Supernatural Imagines

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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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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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OMG! I love your blog soo much! ik this is kinda depressing but could you do one where your pregnant with your bf baby but when you tell him he leaves you so you go to with Sam and Dean but you end up having a miscarriage and dean helps you through it and admits he loves you?

Anonymous

Hi! Im glad you like my blog! I’m sorry for the long wait, but I hope it was worth it.

TRIGGER WARNING: miscarriage.

~~~~~

You slumped against the door of the bunker, bringing your arm up to knock against it. It was autumn, and the wind had a chilly bite to it. You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter against you. Your hand came to rest on your stomach and you felt the small bump that lay there. The feel of it brought on memories of earlier that morning, triggering more tears to fall from your eyes.

A small click caught your attention, and Sam jerked the door open, automatically dumping holy water on you. You flinched at its coldness, trying and failing to suppress another sob. “Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?” Sam queried. He noticed the bags you had dumped unceremoniously at your feet and he picked them up, hauling them inside the bunker. “Come inside,” he coaxed gently. You stepped inside the door and he helped you out of your wet jacket. When you started making your way down the steps, Sam wrapped his arm around you, helping you down.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, walking into the room. He noticed the tear stains running down your cheeks and rushed over to you. “Y/N, what happened? Is everything alright with Jake?” The sound of his name brought on a fresh round of sobbing. “Okay, not the best thing to mention,” Dean said, leading you over to a couch.

“Y/N, please tell us what happened. We can help you,” Sam told you earnestly, sitting down beside you as Dean crouched in front of you.

“H-he br-broke up with me!” you sobbed.

“Uh, I think we have some ice cream in the freezer,” Sam told you. “That helps girls through break ups, right?” You shook your head at him.

“You don’t understand.” You glanced up at the two of them. “I’m pregnant,” you whispered.

“That son of a bitch!” Dean shouted, shooting up from the ground. “So he broke up with you because you told him you were pregnant?” You nodded in confirmation, causing Dean to start pacing the floor. “When I get my hands on him, I swear to God…” he muttered under his breath.

“Dean!” you gasped. “You can’t threaten him!”

“Damn right, I can! That jerk left you when you needed him most!”

“But this isn’t going to help at all!” you insisted.

“Then what will?” Sam asked.

You looked down shyly. “Well I was wondering…do you think that maybe I could stay here for a little bit?” You peeked up at the boys from under your eyelashes, gauging their reactions.

“Of course you can,” Sam assured you, acting as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “The bunker is your home too, for as long as you need it.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

—-

A few weeks later, you woke up in the middle of the night, your stomach aching with the fiercest cramps you had ever experienced. You sat up slowly, the sheets feeling slick beneath you. Ever so carefully, you pulled back the covers, exposing the blood stain covering the bedding. You screamed, not caring that it was the middle of the night and that the others would be asleep. “SAM! DEAN!” you shrieked, your voice taken over by panic.

The boys burst into your room, waving around guns as though expecting there to be some sort of monster to deal with. When their search turned up empty, they looked down at your bed, their eyes going wide when they saw the blood around you.

“Oh God,” Dean murmured, the two of them rushing over to you as you blacked out from the pain.

—-

A steady beeping woke you up, accompanied by total whiteness. At first you thought something had gone wrong with your vision, but then you realised that you were in a hospital. Blinking, you noticed Dean sitting in a chair at your side, with a doctor standing at the end of your bed.

“Good. You’re awake,” he said.

“What happened?” you asked groggily. The doctor’s smile dropped, turning into an expression of sympathy. “My baby. Is it alright?” The doctor just stared back at you for a moment, and your heart dropped into the depths of your stomach.

“I’m very sorry to say this, but you have had a miscarriage,” he informed you. A buzzing sound filled your ears and you had to blink a few times to make sure you didn’t pass out again. You barely heard the doctor as he said, “I’ll just let you have a few minutes alone with your partner.” As he walked out, you didn’t even bother to correct him. It didn’t matter. Nothing did. Your baby was gone.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Dean called. Slowly, you turned your head to look at him. Seeing his look of sorrow, you gave into the waves of tears that had threatened to overcome you ever since the doctor had started to speak.

“My baby, my baby,” you repeated over and over, as if the words alone could be enough to bring it back.

“I know,” Dean whispered, pulling you firmly into his arms. “But we’re going to get through this, alright? Sammy and I are going to be here for you every step of the way. It’ll get better.”

“How?” you wailed, grabbing onto his shirt as though it was a lifeline. “How can it ever get better after this?”

“Because I’m going to make it get better,” Dean murmured, pulling back to look you dead in the eye. “I’m going to help you out as much as it’s physically possible.”

You gazed back at him, trying to clamp down on the sobs that were wracking your body. “Why?” you asked timidly, your voice sounding like that of a little girl. “Why are you so nice to me? Why have you helped me so much over these past few weeks?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Because I love you.” Your breath caught in your throat, and you sat in stunned silence for a moment. But finally, you came to your senses again and wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his embrace.

“Dean…I think I’m falling in love with you, too,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his body. You felt that maybe, just maybe, things could get better again with Dean by your side.

~~~~~

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Could you do one where dean asks the reader to be his girlfriend and she hesitates to say yes and she explains that its not a good idea because she's insecure and anorexic and he cheers her up and promises itll get better? I love your writing and I could use some cheering up. Super fluffly please?(:

Anonymous

Hi. I’m so, so sorry this wasn’t done sooner. I really hope it cheers you up. And if you need anything, message me.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: hints at anorexia, reader talks about their insecurities.

~~~~~

You were curled up on your bed in the bunker, watching reruns of your favourite TV show. You had the blankets tucked up around you and the remote clutched in your hand. Someone knocked on the door and you pressed the mute button. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Dean’s voice answered. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” you replied. He opened the door and stepped into your room, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Nice,” he said, nodding in approval at the band posters you had pinned up on the walls.

“Thanks. What’s up?”

Dean coughed nervously, coming over to sit at the end of your bed, being careful to avoid your feet. “I don’t really know how to say this,” he told you, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. His eyes darted around the room and you smiled up at him encouragingly, patiently waiting for him to say what was on his mind. “Y/N, we’ve known each other for a while now. And…I really like you. And I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me?” he asked carefully, each word coming out slowly.

You froze, staring at Dean like a deer in the headlights. “Oh, um, Dean…I’m flattered. Really, I am. It’s just…”

“Oh,” he said in disappointment, looking down and swallowing. “It’s okay, I understand. I just…never mind.” He started to get up, but you reached out to grab his arm.

“I don’t think you do understand,” you told him. “Dean, I really like you. I’d love to go out with you. But…”

“What is it?” he asked, concern spreading across his features. He say back down on the bed, his eyes focused intently upon you.

“Dean, I have a lot of insecurities. I mean,” you lowered your voice, “I can barely eat without hating myself. How am I supposed to be in a serious relationship with all those problems in my life? So many girls come up to you in bars and pretty much everywhere else, all looking to get your number. How am I supposed to compete with that?” You looked down, trying to hide the tears that had sprung to your eyes. “How am I supposed to handle that kind of pressure?”

“Y/N, look at me.” Dean’s hand reached out, gently cupping your chin and turning your face towards him. “None of those girls is any match for you. Trust me. You blow them all out of the water with your awesomeness.” You smiled at him weakly, sniffing back the tears. “And the other stuff you mentioned? We can get through that. Together. I promise I will never leave you on your own in this. Things are gonna get better.”

“Do you really think so?” you whispered, your voice cracking. Dean’s hands came to rest on your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears that had leaked from your eyes.

“I know so,” he confirmed. You wiped your sleeve across your nose, glancing him at him, at the determined look in his eyes.

“Then…maybe I’ll take you up on that date,” you told him, a soft smile spreading across your face. Dean grinned back at you, his eyes lighting up in joy.

“Awesome.”

~~~~~

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Can you do an imagine where Dean finds out that the reader has been abused (physically or sexually) in the past and that's why she flinches away from the boys' touches? And it has Dean helping her get through it and them falling in love? Lots and lots of fluff if it's not too much to ask! Thank you in advance!

Anonymous

Hi! I’m sorry it took me so long to write this. I hope it’s what you were after.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of sexual assault.

~~~~~

“Take that, Dean Winchester! I just won yet another game of chess!” you taunted.

“Yeah, well, it’s a stupid game anyway! There’s no action,” Dean grumbled.

“You’re just saying that because you lost.”

Hearing the commotion, Sam entered the room. “You tell him, Y/N,” he said, clapping a hand on your shoulder.

You flinched away from him, causing both of the brothers to look at you in confusion.

“Your hands are really cold,” you said hastily in an attempt to cover up your reaction.

“Really?” Sam frowned down at his hands. “I hadn’t realised. Sorry.”

“You know what?” you began. “I’m just going to go to my room. I think it’d be unfair if I challenged Dean to another game. I’m clearly way out of his league.”

“Alright. I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner,” Sam said.

“Thanks,” you answered, heading out of the room, Dean’s eyes following you the whole way.

Later that night, you were sitting on your bed reading when you heard a knock on the door.

“Yeah?”

Dean’s head poked around the door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” you answered, sliding in your bookmark. “What’s up?”

“I want to know what really happened before.”

“Sorry?”

“You know what I mean, Y/N. When Sam touched you, you flinched away from him. Why?” he asked gently.

“I told you before. His hands were cold,” you stated, unable to meet his eyes.

“Y/N, Sammy had been in the kitchen near the oven for at least half an hour. His hands weren’t cold,” Dean said. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you do this in the past. You always sit on the other side of the table, you claim to be coming down with something when one of us tries to hug you, you pretend that the reason you jump when we’re around is because you didn’t realise we were in the room. Why all the excuses?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered stiffly.

“Y/N, you don’t let Sammy and I touch you. I just want to know why.”

You met his gaze. “Do you really want to know?”

“I do.”

“Okay then. Well, a while ago, my boyfriend took me out for dinner. It was our six month anniversary and he really wanted it to be special. So he took me out to this really fancy restaurant and he ordered the expensive wine and he had the band play my favourite song. It was very romantic,” you explained. “And afterwards, we went back to his place, and he had candles set up and rose petals and everything. He…he took me to his bedroom and he told me that I looked beautiful, and that he’d waited all night for this. And I told him no but he-he just kept going…” Your words cut off abruptly, making way for the sobs that were wracking your body.

“Please don’t tell me he did what I think he did,” Dean whispered. Your silence seemed to tell him all that he needed to know.

“That son of a bitch!” he yelled. You flinched away from him, startled by his anger. Dean noticed this and said, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. But you have to know that I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I’d never do anything like that.”

“I believe you, Dean. It’s just hard. I trusted him…I loved him,” you whispered, tears still slipping down your face.

Dean handed you a tissue from the bedside table. “Hey, I’m here for you, okay? And so is Sam. We won’t let anyone hurt you again. And we’ll help you through this.”

“Thank you, Dean,” you murmured. “And thanks for being so considerate,” you added, nodding down at the tissue.

“Anytime, Y/N. I’m going to try to help you in any way that I can. Including backing off for a while.”

“What?” you asked in confusion.

Dean scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I, uh, I really like you, Y/N. And I was gonna ask you out at some point. But I guess you probably don’t want that, considering.”

“Dean, just because of what he did to me, doesn’t mean I don’t still have feelings.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I like you too. And if you’ll have me, I’d love to go on a date with you,” you said.

“Really?” Dean’s face broke out into a grin.

“Really. But just…promise me we’ll take things slow, alright?” you murmured. “I’m not ready for physical stuff yet.”

“I promise,” Dean answered. “I’ll never do anything you aren’t comfortable with. If I overstep any boundaries, you just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you answered, the beginning of a smile working its way onto your lips.

For the first time in a long time, you were able to say that word and mean it.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! I’m so sorry if you’re waiting on a request. At the moment, I’ve got about 20 waiting and I’m doing my best to get them all done. Hopefully I’ll catch up over the next couple of weeks!

Please don’t repost without giving credit.

Hey there! So I just found your blog and it's amazing but Can I have a one shot where the reader and dean are fighting and dean leaves to cool off and he comes back still mad and slightly drunk do the fight escalates and he hits her or bruises her, she locks herself in the bathroom and he passes out The next morning he finds her and he begs her for forgiveness and the it get super super cute and fluffy I'm sorry it's long but thank you!! Love the blog :)

Hi! Thank you for that! It means a lot to me. Sorry for the delay. I hope this is what you were after.

TRIGGER WARNING: Dean hits the reader, there is a huge fight, swearing.

~~~~~

“Dean, can you just leave it? It was one mistake!” you exclaimed, storming into the motel room.

“No, Y/N, I can’t. Do you have any idea how many people could’ve died because of you?” he yelled, coming in after you.

“Of course I fucking do!” you screamed back. “Don’t you think that that thought is constantly going through my mind? But no one did, so can you please stop trying to send me on a guilt trip?”

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t do something that stupid in the future!” Dean shouted.

“Why are you being such an arse about this?”

“I’m being an arse about this?” Dean asked in disbelief. “Really, me? Have you tried looking in the mirror lately?”

“Did you seriously just say that? God, I can’t even look at you right now!”

“Fine then. You won’t have to,” Dean yelled back, leaving the motel room and slamming the door behind him.

You slumped against the wall, tears pricking your eyes. You knew you shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it, but once Dean had started lecturing you about your mistake, you couldn’t back down and let him win. And now you were left in the motel, alone.

Three hours later, you heard a key in the door. Turning around, you saw Dean stagger into the room.

“I suppose you’ve gone and gotten drunk,” you said coldly. “Is that your solution to everything?”

“Don’t piss me off, Y/N,” Dean warned.

“Why not, Dean? Would that be stupid of me?”

“I’m not in the mood for this, Y/N.”

“But Dean,” you began innocently, “you’ve just been out to the bar. I thought that was the magic cure for everything. Isn’t that what Daddy taught you?”

“How dare you?” he hissed, his hand lashing out so fast you didn’t even have a chance to register what was happening. Your cheek stung and realisation struck you - Dean Winchester had just hit you.

You brought your hand up to cover the throbbing flesh. Dean’s eyes widened, as if he was only now realising what he’d just done.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he began, reaching out for you.

You slapped his hands away. “Get away from me!” you shrieked, turning and fleeing into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“Y/N, please. I don’t know what came over you. I’ll never lay a hand on you again, I swear. Just come out. Please,” Dean pleaded from the other side of the door.

“Just leave me alone!” you sobbed, curled up against the wall.

“I’m not leaving until you come back out.”

“Just go!” you choked out.

After several minutes, you heard Dean stumble away from the door and you breathed a sigh of relief. At that moment, it hit you that you were actually scared of Dean Winchester.

It was with your cheek pressed against the cool tiles of the bathroom floor that you finally found yourself drifting off to sleep half an hour later.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you did was look in the mirror. An ugly purple bruise was smeared across your cheek, ink staining the paper of your skin.

Listening against the door, you couldn’t hear anything and assumed that Dean was still asleep. You crept out to the kitchen, careful not to make a noise.

You were just pouring out some cereal when a voice from behind stopped you.

“What have I done?” it whispered. Turning, you found that Dean stood across the room, his eyes fixed on the side of your cheek.

“I’m an arsehole. An absolute, fucking arsehole!” You flinched at the sound of his raised voice, the memory of last night burned into your mind. When Dean noticed that you’d backed away, all strength seemed to drain from him.

“You’re scared of me,” he stated in a whisper. “Oh God. What have I done?” His eyes shone with unshed tears and he dragged his hands down his face.

“Y/N,” he began, “you have to believe me. I never meant to do that, I swear. I’m so, so sorry. And I’m never gonna be able to forgive myself for it. Ever.”

You cast your eyes away. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. About your dad.”

“Y/N, that was no excuse for what I did,” he said firmly. “There is no excuse for what I did. It was unforgivable. But I want you to know that if I could go back and change one thing, that’d be it.”

You peeked up at him. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t even have to think twice.”

You looked down at your hands, and were startled when Dean added, “I’ll miss you.”

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“I’m leaving,” he stated simply.

“Dean, don’t go,” you murmured.

“Y/N, you don’t deserve what I did to you. And you shouldn’t have to put up with me every day after what I did.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.” He looked like he was about to cut you off, so you rushed on. “Dean, I trust you. Not as much as I did before last night, but I still trust you. I can see how cut up you are about this. So stay, because I don’t think you’ll do it again. But for the record? If you ever hurt me like that again, I’m gonna pack my bags and leave, because I’m worth so much more than that.”

“Y/N, I promise, I won’t let you regret this decision,” Dean swore.

“I hope you mean that,” you replied.

“I do, Y/N. I do.”

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! And sorry, I couldn’t resist that little reference at the end.

I just want to say that even though this wasn’t necessarily an example of an abusive relationship, if you ever are in one, you do deserve more. So please allow yourself to have the life you deserve. If someone hurts you like this, you owe them nothing.

Please don’t repost without giving credit.