This is a repost of my earlier post (if anyone’s confused).
~~~~
You dropped your spoon back into your empty bowl of ice cream, suddenly hating yourself for devouring it as quickly as you had. As you sat there alone, in the dimly lit kitchen of the bunker in the middle of the night, all you could think about was the scales ticking over, adding yet another kilo to what was already considered more weight than acceptable.
“Y/N? What are you doing up?” You jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice, turning to see him entering the room in his grey robe, his hair tousled and his eyes drooping with exhaustion.
“I, uh, couldn’t sleep,” you mumbled, looking down and hoping he wouldn’t notice the bowl in front of you, empty save for a few melted dregs of ice cream.
“Me neither,” he answered, treading towards the freezer. As he opened the door and looked in the top drawer, you saw a frown cross his features. “Huh,” he said. “I thought we still had a tub of ice cream left in here. Guess Sammy will have to pick some up when he’s in town tomorrow.” Immediately, a sense of guilt washed over you, filling you right to the pit of your stomach. Hastily, you got up from the table, attempting to leave the room before anymore could be said. But in doing so, you managed to knock your empty bowl with your hand, sending the spoon clattering to the ground.
“Woah, hey, easy there,” Dean said, bending down to pick it up for you. As he righted himself, he noticed the bowl on the table, and you saw the realisation dawn on him.
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears springing to your eyes. “I didn’t mean to eat it all. I’m just so sorry.” As you went on, the words became harder to get out, competing with the sobs that were starting to form in your throat.
“Hey, hey, what’s going on, Y/N?” Dean asked, concern evident in his features as he guided you into a chair. “What’s all this about? Why the tears?”
“Because I ate it all,” you explained, unable to meet his eyes. “God, I’m such a pig,” you added in an undertone.
“Hey, you are not a pig,” Dean responded, crouching down to look into your eyes. “And who cares if you ate all the ice cream? I was going to if you didn’t. It’s no big deal.” You scoffed, angrily brushing away the stray tears that had spilled over the lower lids of your eyes.
“Yeah, for you maybe,” you retorted, eyeing his figure enviously. “You can eat anything you want and it doesn’t matter. You don’t have this,” you told him, grabbing at your stomach with your hands. “You don’t have to worry about buying clothes and them not coming in your size, or the looks of people in a diner when you decide to order a burger or the look of the cashier when you add chocolate to your groceries. You don’t have to worry about any of that because you aren’t FAT.” By the end of this, the sobs had become more pronounced, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to choke out any more. You didn’t want to either, knowing how pathetic you sounded.
“Screw them,” Dean answered, and you could hear the anger underlying his words. Surprised, you looked up, and saw him gazing at you with his jaw locked, a muscle twitching further back. His eyes held yours and behind the anger, you saw pain too. “Why should any of their opinions matter?” he demanded, continuing to hold your gaze. “If anyone is looking at you and thinking bad thoughts, then they’re clearly all idiots because you are freaking gorgeous, Y/N.”
“Wh-what?” you replied, shocked at the turn this conversation had taken. “N-no, I’m no-“
“Dammit, Y/N,” Dean interjected, shooting up from his crouch in frustration. “Why do you degrade yourself like this?” Seeing you recoil, he softened his tone, attempting to put you back at ease. “I just meant that you’re beautiful, just the way you are. And who gives a damn if you’re packing a bit of extra weight? You make the best goddamn pie I’ve ever tasted and I’ve never met a hunter who’s as good a shot as you, or who cares as much about the people they’re trying to protect. You make everyone else around you feel important, like they matter. That’s what made me fall in love with you.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “That’s what made you…what?” Dean froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard by what he’d let slip, but regained his composure quickly enough.
“I’m in love with you,” he repeated, once more crouching down to meet your level. “And it hurts me to hear you talk that way about yourself, to know that you even think that way about yourself. Because I think you’re beautiful, inside and out. And I just wish that one day, you could learn to see yourself the way I see you.”
~~~~~
Please don’t repost.
Can you write a readerxdean imagine where the reader is pretty similar to dean and they go on a road trip and they're singing and dean confesses he loves the reader and super fluffy?c:
Anonymous
Hi. I hope you enjoy this imagine!
~~~~~
The Impala flew down the straight stretch of black road, with no sign of anyone else around. You loved it like this - Dean behind the wheel, you in the passenger seat. Both front windows were down and you were each resting an elbow on the window frame, allowing the wind to whip inside, ruffling your hair and shirts.
You dug through Dean’s box of cassette tapes, smiling as you found the one you were after and put it in the player. As the sound of AC/DC filled the car, Dean looked over at you and grinned, tapping out the beat on the steering wheel. “You have excellent taste in music,” he told you, turning back to the road.
“I know,” you agreed, leaning back against the seat. As the chorus came round, you and Dean grinned at one another, before proceeding to belt out the lyrics.
“Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap
(Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap)
(Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap).”
Dean was head banging, and you had turned the dashboard into a drum kit. It was so freeing, to just rock out and forget about angels and demons and ghosts for the time being. You and Dean could just relax and act like teenagers at a concert for a while, instead of worrying about the fate of the world.
As the song finally died out, the two of you laughed, trying to catch your breath. “God, I love this,” Dean murmured.
“Me too,” you smiled, looking in the rear view mirror at the endless expanse of road stretching out behind you.
“No, I mean it,” he insisted. “I-I love you.” He held his breath, looking at you out of the corner of his eye to gauge your reaction.
“As you damn well should, Winchester,” you smirked. But then your expression softened, and you reached over to squeeze his knee. “But don’t worry - I know the feeling. Road trips with you are my favourite things in the world.”
~~~~~
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Your blog is amazing!! I've had a hard time sleeping recently so could I possibly get an imagine where the reader (a hunter and Dean's girlfriend) can't sleep so Dean comforts her and helps her get to sleep and it's just hella fluffy! Thank you :)
Anonymous
Thank you! And I hope that your sleeping habits improve!
~~~~~
It was another one of those nights. No matter how much you tossed and turned, you just couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Blanket off, you were too cold. Blanket on, you were too hot. You punched your pillow repeatedly, but it just never seemed to go into the right shape for you. Sighing, you flipped over once more and squeezed your eyes shut, figuring that if sleep didn’t come for you, you were bloody well gonna go after it.
“Geez, what’s happening on your side of the bed?” Dean muttered sleepily from beside you.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snapped. “Is my not being able to sleep amusing to you?” Immediately, you felt bad. “Sorry. I’m just really tired. I’ve been trying to sleep for hours now.”
“Maybe I could help you sleep,” he suggested.
“Dean,” you said, a note of warning in your voice.
He brushed you off. “Nothing like that. I mean it. Maybe I could sing to you,” he joked. Groaning, you turned away from him.
“You’re not helping!”
“Hey, come on. I’ll be serious now. Come here.” He looped his arm over your waist, pulling you towards him so that your back was flush with his chest. With the blanket off, you found that his body heat was just the right temperature for you. You leaned into him, feeling his hand reach up to your forehead to stroke your temple lightly. “Is this helping?” he whispered. You nodded, shutting your eyes as you allowed him to soothe you.
Just as you started drifting off to sleep, you noticed that Dean was humming a tune that sounded an awful lot like ‘Some Kind Of Monster’ by Metallica. You smiled and drifted off to sleep like that, with Dean’s arm around you and the notes of Metallica in your ears.
~~~~~
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Great blog! Could you write an imagine where the reader has a crazy/cruel father and Dean and Sam confront him and then rescue the reader and she travels with them? Thanks!
Anonymous
Hey. I hope this is what you were looking for.
TRIGGER WARNING: Abusive father, a fair amount of swearing directed at the reader.
~~~~~
“Y/N! Get the fuck in here!” your dad boomed from the lounge room, where you could hear a game of football blaring through the television speakers. Scurrying into the room, you took in the pizza boxes and empty beer bottles scattered across the floor, before your eyes finally came to rest at the foot of the lounge where your father sat.
“Yes, Dad? What do you need?”
“Get me another beer,” he demanded. “And when you’re done, clean up this room. I can’t believe you let it get so filthy.” You did as he asked, grabbing another beer from the fridge and a garbage bag from one of the kitchen cupboards.
“Here you go,” you told your dad, plastering a fake smile on your face as you handed him the new beer.
“Shut up. I can’t hear the game,” he grunted, not even glancing in your direction as he snatched the bottle from your hand. You ducked your head in shame, internally scolding yourself for not having the better sense to not interrupt him during a match.
Lowering yourself to the floor, you started picking up the rubbish. Within minutes, the bag was bulging, and you couldn’t believe the room had gotten so messy after only a few days. But as you picked up the trash from the floor, you noticed stains on the carpet from the grease of the pizzas and the dregs of the various beers, which you knew you’d have to clean.
Sighing, you tied up the bag and headed out of the room, intending to grab some soap and sponges to clean the floor with. But just as you were dumping the rubbish bag by the front door to take out to the bins later, you heard a knock. Glancing quickly in the direction of the lounge room, you decided not to disturb your father during the game, so you answered the door yourself.
“Good afternoon,” a handsome man greeted you. He and his companion appeared to be only a few years older than you, and they didn’t seem to be carrying any boxes, so you wondered why they were on your doorstep, if not to sell anything. “I’m Agent Bon, this is my partner, Agent Scott. We were wondering if you knew anything about the murder that happened a few doors down.”
Your eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, taking in the badges they held up and their formal attire. “I-I don’t really get out much,” you started. “I’m probably not the best person you should be talking to. You should probably just leave.” You started to close the door, wanting to be rid of these two men. They had to leave before they saw inside, before they started asking questions. Your dad would flip out if he knew federal agents were in the area. And of course, you knew who he’d blame for it.
“What are you hiding from us?” the taller man asked, reaching out to stop you from shutting the door completely. There was only a small gap left to see through now, and through it you could barely just make out both of their features.
“Please, I don’t know anything!” you pleaded, feeling a sob rise up in your chest. “Just leave me alone!” The two men exchanged a glance, and were about to question you further when a scream from the lounge room cut them off.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS TAKING YOU SO LONG, YOU LITTLE BITCH? I asked you to do one simple thing! Is that too much to ask?” You flinched, both at the loud volume and the harsh nature of his words.
“Who is that?” the first man asked, pushing the door open a little further to get a look inside.
“N-no one!” you insisted, fighting against him as he pushed the door all the way open and stepped into your house alongside his companion.
“Is that your father?” the taller man asked in horror and disbelief. You didn’t answer, but your face must’ve said it all, because they both stormed into the room where your father was, turning off the TV and demanding his attention.
“What the fuck are you two doing in my house?” He demanded, half rising out of his chair. When he caught sight of you edging timidly into the room, he turned on you. “Did you let them in here, Y/N? Because if you did, I swear -”
“Actually,” the first man interrupted. “We let ourselves in.” Your father went silent as the men flashed their badges, both of them staring at him stonily. “How do you live with yourself?” he continued. “Your daughter is not a slave, nor is she an outlet for your anger. She is a good person, and you should be treating her with respect!’
You backed out of the room, not wanting to have the attention focussed on you. No one had ever spoken about you like that before, and you didn’t know how you should react to it.
"How dare you speak to me in such ways in my own house!” your father exclaimed from the other side of the wall. “I’ll have you know -” His voice cut off suddenly, and as you peeked round the edge of the doorframe to see why, you saw that the FBI agents had positioned themselves to show off the bulge of their guns.
“If you don’t mind,” the taller one said pleasantly, “we’ll just be going now.” And like that, it was over. Well, for them anyway. Your father would never forgive you for this. Once the men had left, there’d be no stopping him.
“Okay, moment of truth.” Startled, you glanced up, finding the two men standing close to you, keeping their voices low so as to not be heard. “Do you want to come with us? We can get you away from this, help you live a better life.”
“Wh-what?” Why on earth were FBI agents asking you this? “But you guys are the FBI! Besides, I-I don’t even know you,” you said shakily.
“Well, truthfully, we aren’t actually FBI agents. But we are investigating the murders in the area. We’re here to help.”
“That’s right,” the other man continued. “I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam. And if you want, we can take you somewhere safe, somewhere you won’t have to put up with all this crap.” You were stuck, with no clue as to what to do. As much as you wanted to leave, how could you be sure that they could be trusted?
“But my dad…” Your fear of him was too strong, and you knew that you couldn’t go if there was any chance he might follow. But then again, it couldn’t be much worse than what you’d have to deal with when these guys left, could it?
“We’ll sort him out,” Dean assured you. “Don’t you worry about that. We’ll take care of everything. So what do you say?” His green eyes held yours, steady and reassuring. And even though you’d never met him before, there was something in the determined stares of him and his brother that said they’d never let you down.
Brushing a few stray tears from your cheeks, you nodded, swallowing and trying to match their own determined expressions. “Let me just grab my stuff.”
~~~~~
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hi can i get a dean imagine where your in a car accident after a fight with dean about a hunt and he feels awful about it and fluff? thanks doll :)
Anonymous
Hey. I hope you like it!
~~~~~
“What the hell was that, Dean?” you fumed, storming into the bunker. You whipped around, folding your arms across your chest and fixing him with a furious expression.
“Oh, you’re one to talk,” he retorted. “What were you thinking? When we have a plan, we stick to it. If I hadn’t saved you -” You snorted, your expression turning to one of utter disbelief.
“Saved me? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Glaring at him, you took a step closer and drew yourself up to your full height. Through gritted teeth, you said, “Dean, you have a hero complex. And you know what? I was perfectly capable of handling myself until you showed up. The reason that hunt nearly got us both killed was you. Not me.”
Dean reeled back as though he’d been slapped, and you took his brief silence as a moment to exit the bunker, making sure to slam the door behind you. Getting behind the wheel of your car, you pulled away from the bunker. Away from Dean. But the further you drove, the more your anger left you, and in its place the guilt set in. You knew Dean had only been doing what he’d thought was right. You had no right to treat him like that. He’d only been trying to help you.
Making your decision, you made a U-turn, knowing that the back roads were generally pretty quiet, so no one would get in your way. But in all the time that you’d been thinking, you hadn’t even noticed the car that had turned onto the road behind you. You sped off towards Dean, only registering the other vehicle just before the moment of collision. There was the squeal of brakes, and a large smash, and then you blacked out, feeling shards of glass from the windscreen cut you as the airbag slammed into your chest.
—-
When you woke up, you had the strangest sensation that something was tugging against your arm. For a moment, you panicked, and strained to free yourself from its grip. But as consciousness set in properly, you realised that it was an IV, not an attacker. You slumped back against the pillows, realising that you must be in the hospital.
But then something did grab your arm and you froze, turning to look at whoever it was who had you in their clutches. “Dean…” you breathed, relaxing once more as you took in the sight of him. Who else would it have been?
“Y/N, thank God you’re alright,” he answered, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “They told me you’d be okay, but I didn’t want to believe it until I saw you for myself.”
“I’m fine,” you answered, remembering why you’d gone on that drive which had resulted in the accident in the first place. Dean was evidently remembering it too, as you noticed that the guilt had carved itself across his features.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t been fighting with you -”
“Dean,” you interrupted. “It wasn’t your fault. You were only trying to help me, and I was a bitch about it. In fact, just before I crashed, I was turning around to come see you. I didn’t mean any of it - the things I said were horrible. And none of them were true, you have to know that.” You paused, taking a moment before you said the most important thing you had to say. “Dean, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“Y/N, I’m just glad you’re alive. Of course I forgive you,” Dean told you, moving the strands of hair off your forehead so that he could stroke your temple. You smiled at him, loving how he could be so tender and gentle around you even after the things you’d said to him.
“You’re too good for me, Dean Winchester,” you murmured, leaning into the hand that was now cupping your cheek.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. There’s nothing special about me,” he answered, giving you a sad smile.
“Dean,” you said seriously, looking him dead in the eye, “there’s everything special about you.”
~~~~~
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Okey first of all your blog is awesome! Could you write a a Dean imagine where you dance on "Island in the sun" by Weezer?
Anonymous
Thank you so much! Actually, I listened to this song for the first time when I wrote this, and it’s actually pretty catchy. Also, I haven’t really written something like this before, so I hope it’s alright.
~~~~~
You sighed, slamming the lore book shut and watching as a cloud of dust rose up from the pages. You and Dean had been researching for hours, and you still had nothing. But now, the words had blurred into one another and you were seeing the passages without taking anything in. If you were going to have any chance of finding anything out about this creature, you were going to have to take a break.
Standing up, you headed to the radio in the corner of the room, tuning in to your favourite station. As “Island in the Sun” by Weezer came on, you smiled, and an idea popped into your head. “Come on,” you said to Dean, pulling him up from his chair.
“What are you doing?” he asked, staring at you in confusion. “We have research to do -”
“Shhh,” you interrupted, placing a finger over his lips. “Just go with it.” You pulled him into the centre of the room and started swaying in time with the music. Soon enough, he picked up on what you were doing and placed his hands on your waist, leaving you to wrap your arms around his neck.
For once, you were able to do something carefree, something that didn’t involve danger, where there was no pressure to succeed. It was just you and Dean, dancing around the room with stupid grins on your faces. And by the time the final chorus came on, you both sang along.
“On an island in the sun
We’ll be playing and having fun
And it makes me feel so fine
I can’t control my brain.”
You both laughed, pulling away from one another as the final notes of the song died out and the radio switched to a different track. Dean mockingly bowed, as if the two of you were at an old fashioned dance. You grinned, curtsying back. “Who knows?” you joked. “Maybe this will be our song!”
Dean smiled softly at you, gazing at you with a tender expression. “Who knows?”
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
Could you write an imagine where the reader surprises Dean by baking all of his favorite pies at once because you see how drained he is and it's just super fluffy?
Anonymous
Hi. I hope you like it!
~~~~~
The sound of the Impala’s engine faded into the distance, leaving the bunker in silence. You knew that Sam was reading up on some lore, but you didn’t want to distract him. So you were left to your own devices until Dean got back tomorrow. He’d left to go interview some witnesses, to try and shed some light on the monster they were hunting.
As you’d said goodbye to him, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He’d been working so hard the past few weeks, and the strain was starting to show. His eyes were lined with bags and he walked as though a large weight was on his shoulders, forcing him to slump and drag himself along. You also knew that he’d been having trouble sleeping lately, which couldn’t have been helping.
You bit your lip, frowning slightly as you thought. You had nothing else to do today, so maybe you could do something for Dean, a nice surprise to take his mind off hunting for the time. Smiling, you headed into the kitchen and grabbed an apron, hoping that you had all the ingredients you would need.
—-
The next day, as you heard the Impala pulling back into the bunker’s garage, you darted out of the kitchen, a huge smile on your face. You had been in a baking frenzy all night, and couldn’t wait to show Dean what you had prepared for him. Sam had even come in at one point and - after you’d explained what you were doing to him - helped for a little while.
“Dean!” you squealed, throwing your arms around him as he came through the door.
“Hey, Y/N,” he laughed wearily, hugging you back. “I take it you missed me?”
“Yep.” You grabbed his hand, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen.
“Hey, I’m drained right now. Do you think we could do this later?” You glanced back at him, taking in his exhaustion. It wouldn’t hurt to wait, you supposed… “Hang on,” Dean added. “Do I smell pie?” You grinned, knowing that there was no way he’d want to go to sleep now.
“Maybe,” you sang, going ahead of him into the kitchen. “Although it rather use it as a plural.” As Dean saw the table, his jaw dropped. Laid out before him were several fresh pies, the most recent one still steaming. “Just a little something I did to surprise you,” you told him. “There’s apple pie, pecan pie and cherry pie.”
“I love you!” Dean exclaimed, swinging you around in his arms. You laughed, begging him to put you back down again. When he did, you looked up at him and saw that through the exhaustion, he was genuinely happy to see what you’d done for him.
“I just thought you could do with a little something to cheer you up,” you said. “I know the last few weeks have been tough on you…” Dean smiled, and it was clearly genuine, despite the tiredness he obviously felt.
“Y/N? You’re awesome,” he uttered.
~~~~~
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Hi! I hope this is what you were after!
~~~~~
Clutching the rim of the toilet seat, you felt the contents of your stomach empty yet again. You leaned back, your nose wrinkling at the smell of vomit. You flushed the toilet, flipping the lid down to rest your head against it. The porcelain was cool against your cheek, and it was a welcome relief from the constant nausea you felt.
The stale taste in your mouth was a familiar one, as you had spent the mornings of the past week in this bathroom, heaving up the contents of your stomach. You knew that you should tell Dean about it, but you didn’t know how to. You had no clue as to how he’d react. Would he even want a baby? So you had decided to keep your vomit sessions secret, until you worked out the best way to tell him.
Just as you were getting up to wash your mouth out, you heard the door open behind you. Turning around, you found Dean framed in the doorway. “You alright?” he asked, coming over to rub your back gently as you gave your teeth a brush.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied, having spat out the toothpaste and water. “Must’ve just been something I ate.” You were avoiding his eyes, and Dean knew it. He took hold of your chin, turning your face to look at him.
“Just like yesterday morning?” he asked. “And the morning before? And the morning before that?” You squirmed out of his grip, trying not to look guilty. He was eyeing you closely, and you knew that he knew you were hiding something. He knew you better than anyone else, and you had been stupid to think you could hide this from him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Another lie, and is one came out tasting worse than the vomit. Maybe now was the time to tell him, just get it over with. Like ripping off a bandaid.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said quietly. “I know that you’ve been sick the past few mornings, but I didn’t say anything because you didn’t. But it’s gone on for too long, and I want to know what’s wrong.”
You took a deep breath, taking a quick glance up at his eyes. Those green eyes held so much love for you, trusted you so deeply. You could do this. You could tell Dean. He loved you, and he’d love the baby. He would.
“Last week,” you began, “when you and Sam were on a hunt, I went to the doctor because I wasn’t feeling so well. And…Dean, I’m pregnant.” You held your breath, waiting to see his reaction. He was still for a moment, and you worried that it was too soon, that he would freak out. But then his face split into a huge grin, and he wrapped you in his arms.
“We’re having a baby?” he exclaimed. He pulled away from you, running his gaze down your figure before letting his eyes rest on your stomach, where your baby was. There was so much wonder in his expression, and you wished you had told him earlier. He was filled with a joy that you’d never seen in him before.
“Yes, Dean,” you laughed, delighted by his reaction. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know how you’d react.” He reluctantly dragged his gaze away from your stomach so that he could meet your eyes. He must’ve sensed that you’d harboured some uncertainty about the situation, because he murmured, “Y/N Y/L/N, you make me the happiest man on Earth.”
~~~~~
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I love your blog! I was wondering if I could request a Dean imagine where the reader and dean had a baby and the reader gets up during the night to check on it and finds a demon in its room.
Anonymous
Thank you! I hope you like this imagine.
~~~~~
The bed sheets felt so good as you climbed into bed, sinking your head into the pillow as the mattress cradled your body. Your eyelids drooped, and it barely even registered when Dean climbed into bed beside you, tucking you under the covers. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before settling himself on his side of the bed. “How was she?” he murmured.
“Mmm, yeah, I got her to sleep,” you replied drowsily. “She won’t sleep through the night, though. God, when people said that we’d get no sleep with a baby, I didn’t realise how literally they meant it.”
Dean let out a humourless laugh. “God, I know. I love her, but man I wish she would stop crying.” You were about to agree, but you felt yourself being pulled under, and you welcomed the much needed rest.
Only a couple of months ago, you had finally become a mother, a title you couldn’t be prouder of. But what you hadn’t expected was just how exhausted it would make you. Many days had passed where you’d drift off to sleep when you were supposed to be looking after the baby, before jerking upright and realising what had just happened, and hating yourself for leaving your baby unattended, even for only a few minutes.
Even on the nights when you did go into a deep sleep, it didn’t last very long. Tonight was no exception. Barely three hours after you’d drifted off, you were woken by crying coming from the baby monitor on your bedside table. Groaning, you sat upright, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Dean was still asleep, so you went to check on your daughter yourself, wanting to let him sleep as much as possible.
Your heart just about stopped as you turned into the nursery. Standing in front of the cot was a man, leaning over your baby. “Dean!” you screamed, as the man’s attention turned to you. But as he faced you, you saw that his eyes were black, and you knew that this was no man. It was a demon.
“Please, leave her alone,” you pleaded. “She’s just a baby! Take me instead!” The demon took a step towards you, using his power to force you up against the wall. Your breath cut off and you started choking, watching helplessly as he turned back to your little girl. A rushing sound filled your ears, making it almost impossible to hear the crying coming from the cot. You were sure that you were going to pass out, and you had no idea what the demon would do to your baby when you did.
But just as the darkness starting creeping in on the edge of your vision, a figure darted into the room, headed straight for the demon. Dean. Slowly, your heart rate returned to normal. Everything would be okay now that he was here. He was going to fix everything.
You saw him stab the demon and then you were free, slumping back against the wall with a hand to your throat, gasping for breath. Dean was there in an instant, cradling your face and asking over and over again if you were alright. Nodding, you stumbled over to the cot, where your baby was crying.
“Hey, it’s okay,” you gasped, picking her up and rocking her in your arms. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s alright.” Gradually, the cries began to die down, and soon she was sleeping in your arms.
“Is she alright?” Dean murmured, reaching for her. You handed her over, checking her for any physical signs of harm.
“I-I think so,” you shakily replied. “But what if he’s done something to her?” You thought of Sam and what had happened to him when he was six months old. Dean must’ve been thinking along the same lines, because he said, “I’ll get Cas to come check her out. Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll look after her.”
“Dean -” you began to protest.
“No,” he interrupted. “You’re exhausted. Please. Just let me do this.” Seeing the pleading look in his eyes, you consented, turning to leave the room. You had just reached the doorway when you heard a muffled sob behind you. Looking back, you saw Dean’s body shaking slightly, but he kept a firm grip on your baby.
“Dean, what’s wrong?” you asked, hurrying back to his side. He shook his head, at a loss for words.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” he finally choked out. “I thought it would be like Mum all over again. Like Jess. When I heard you scream, all I could think was that I would run in here to find you burning on the ceiling.”
In that moment, he looked so broken and lost. All you could think of was that little boy, one who had lost far too much, and gained so much responsibility. Dean deserved a better life than hunting, and just as he’d gotten one, this demon had shown up in your daughter’s room to remind the both of you that sometimes, happy endings just aren’t possible.
“Dean,” you said firmly, looking him directly in the eye. “I am still here. I know what could’ve happened, but it didn’t. I’m still here, and I’m not going to leave you,” you promised. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”
Dean looked up at you, a desperate look in his eyes. But there was hope there too, like he thought that the two of you could do this. He knew that you weren’t going to leave, unlike so many other people in his life. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too.”
~~~~~
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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.”
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.