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.
Hey I love all your imagines they are awesome! I was wondering if you could do one where you came back from a hunt (and dean has the mark of Cain still on his arm)and dean blames you for doing something wrong even though it was something small and he hurts you really bad and after he feels sorry and tries to make it up to you thank you!!
Wow. I can’t believe it’s been two years since I last posted on here. My final years of high school were just so intense. But as of two days ago, I have officially finished my HSC (final exams). So I’m free! And I can finally get back into writing again.
I hope this is what you’re after, and please forgive me if the quality isn’t the same. I’m very out of practise.
Thanks @alexamer1234-blog for the request.
~~~~~~
Dean slammed the driver’s side door of the Impala, stalking off out of the garage and into the Bunker itself, not even waiting for you as you climbed out of the passenger’s side and hobbled after him, wincing every time you placed weight on your right leg. Looking through the vamp’s nest, your foot had slipped through a loose floorboard, most likely spraining your ankle.
“Dean, could you please just stop for a minute and talk to me?” you panted, the exertion from trying to hurry with an injury taking its toll on you. He was standing at the table when you finally caught up to him, cleaning off his blades, and he whipped around at the sound of your voice.
The look on his face forced you back a step, a dark combination of malice and rage, and despite everything you knew about him, every ounce of trust you had in him, you found yourself glancing at the weapon in his hands, praying that he would put it down. “What do you want to talk about, huh?” he demanded, taking a menacing step forward, counteracting the backwards step you’d just taken. “About you screwing up back there? About how you almost got us killed?”
You flinched, listening as his voice rose with each accusation. “Dean, what are you talking about?” you queried. “How did I almost get us killed? We were perfectly fine! We had those vamps cornered and you know it!”
“Oh, we had them cornered, did we?” Dean replied, carefully placing the knife on the table. Somehow, watching him do that terrified you more, a bad feeling in your gut. His anger you could take. But this, this sense of calm, this was not something you were used to at all, and certainly not something you wanted to familiarise yourself with. “What about when you fell, huh? Just about brought the whole place crashing down, alerting all those freaking vamps that we were there. You’re just lucky I was there to save your ass.”
“Excuse me?” you exclaimed, regaining your composure as anger flooded your veins. “I wasn’t ‘lucky’ you were there; I can hold my own, thank you very much. And I did not let all the vamps know we were there. Hell, I barely even woke one of them. And as for me falling, yeah, I tripped. But you know what? It was a goddamn mistake, and right now, my ankle freaking kills and I could do with a little concern instead of you acting like a dick!”
“What did you just call me?” Dean challenged, his eyes turning dark. You felt your composure falter, and you felt yourself longing for an escape, growing uncomfortable at the way this conversation was unfolding. “I may be a dick, but you, Y/N, you are a pathetic excuse for a hunter.” Your eyes began burning and you swallowed hard against the growing lump in your throat. This wasn’t like Dean, not at all. The Dean you knew would never speak to you like this, would never even think that way about you…would he?
“The Mark,” you stated, your head suddenly clearing. “This is the Mark talking. This isn’t you, Dean. The Mark is messing with your head.”
“DON’T BLAME THIS ON THE MARK,” Dean roared, his body looming up before you, an immense wall of strength, and you suddenly found yourself remembering just how much taller and stronger than you he was. “My head is clearer than it’s ever been. The Mark is making me realise things I should have seen a long time ago.”
“Well if you think that, you’re more of an idiot than I thought,” you retorted, your voice only shaking slightly. And then a flash of movement, a glimpse of red, raised skin, a crack filling the room, and searing pain erupting across your cheek.
You collapsed into one of the chairs, the force of the blow and the sheer pain sending you reeling. Glancing at Dean, who was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, you fled the room, clutching your cheek as tears began to fall down your face and blur your vision. Pushing past the pain in your ankle and now your cheek, you sought the safe confines of your room, where you locked the door before falling back against your bed, wishing that you’d had the chance to grab some ice on your way out, anything to dull the pain.
Ten minutes went by, half an hour, before there was a knock at your door. “Y/N,” Dean’s quiet voice came through the door. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You have no idea how freaking sorry I am.”
“Fuck off,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from sobs.
“Y/N…please,” Dean begged. And for some reason, against all your better judgement, you stood up, moving towards the door to let him in. You weren’t quite sure what it was, what made you think he could be trusted. But there was something in his voice, something raw and desperate…something genuine. You got the impression that maybe this was the Dean you knew, one you could reason with.
You opened the door to find Dean waiting outside, a packet of frozen peas in his hand, which he passed to you wordlessly. Equally silent, you reached out a hand to grab them, exposing the angry bruise covering half of your face.
“Y/N…” Dean gaped, a look of horror flooding his expression. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I can’t…I just, I don’t know what came over me. You know I’d never hurt you like that. I was just so, so angry. And I just don’t know what came over me.”
“I do,” you finally spoke up, your eyes flicking up to meet his. “It was the Mark, just like I said. It…it does things to you. It’s changing you, Dean. And not in a good way.”
“I know,” he uttered, his voice coming out strained. “I know, I can feel it. And believe me, I never would’ve taken it if I’d have known this would happen. I wish there was some way I could take it back, that I could make this right. But I just don’t know what to do.”
“I do,” you repeated, taking in his features. His shoulders, slumped and defeated. His eyes, shocked and haunted, seemingly unable to look away from the pain he’d inflicted upon you. “We’re going to call every hunter we know, go through every book in that library.” Dean’s eyes shifted to your own, clouded with confusion, unsure of where you were going with this. “We’re getting that damned Mark off of you.”
~~~~~
Well, thanks for reading! And thanks to everyone who stuck by me for the very, very, VERY long time I was inactive for.
Please don’t repost.
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.”
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
i think i'm in love with your blog omg. all those imagines, they're just perfect. simple as that. you're definitly a good writer. also, could you do an imagine when the reader is sam and dean's little sister (she's 18), its her senior year and even if she hunts with them she have to go to school, but one day they found out that she's bullied, they found out because the football players have beat her and they fix it with those guys (fluffly pls)sorry for the english again, i am french, thanks :)
Hi! Thank you so much. You have no idea how much that means to me!
TRIGGER WARNING: Bullying.
~~~~~
You walked through the corridors with your shoulders hunched and your head hanging low, trying not to draw any attention to yourself. Even though you were a hunter, your brothers made you go to school regardless. They said it was because they wanted you to have the life they’d never gotten. And you didn’t blame them at all, because you could totally see where they were coming from. It was just…well, you hated school. But it wasn’t the teachers or the homework or the gross cafeteria food or anything like that. No. It was the other students, and in particular, the football team.
They were always calling you horrible names and fixing crappily photoshopped pictures to your locker. And while you did have your own little circle of friends and were fairly well liked by a number of your peers, it didn’t stop you from hurting whenever the football team chose to attack again.
Of course, Sam and Dean knew none of this. As far as they were concerned, school was just peachy for you. And you wanted to keep them in the dark about it, because if they found out, they would take serious action. And somehow, you didn’t know if it’d be strictly legal. Besides, it was your senior year. In a few short months, this would all be over, and you’d be free to travel with Sam and Dean, leaving the petty politics of high school behind.
Feeling a buzzing in your pocket, you pulled out your phone, seeing the screen lit up with a text from Dean. ‘Just got back in town. We’ll pick you up from school this afternoon,’ it read. You smiled, hardly able to wait until you could see them again. When they were around, you felt safe. You felt like you could forget all about the bullying, even if for just a few hours.
“Hey, wonder what’s got Y/N all happy,” Dan jeered. Looking up, you found that while you’d been checking your phone, the football team had found you, forming a loose circle around you. Glancing around, you realised with a sinking heart that the corridors were empty aside from them, with everyone else in class.
“Let’s find out, shall we,” Nate grinned, snatching the phone from your hand. “Ooh, a text message from Dean! Who’s he? Your boyfriend?”
“As if!” Liam exclaimed, while around him the team collapsed into laughter. “Look at her. Do you think she’d ever be able to get a boyfriend?”
“Please give me my phone back,” you said quietly, fighting to keep your voice from shaking.
“Oh, you want it back, do you? Well, here you go.” Nate held out his hand with the phone in it. But just as you reached out to take it, he snatched it back out of your reach. “Got you that time!” he laughed.
“Please,” you pleaded, jumping up to try and take it back. Tears pricked your eyes, but you forced them away, knowing that to cry now would only make this a thousand times worse.
Whenever you faced monsters, you felt strong, totally in control. Fighting was something that could be taught, and you knew that Sam and Dean were the best teachers in the world. But facing these guys in the school corridor…they made you feel weak. This was a different kind of battle, one that couldn’t be fought with a bit of research and the right technique. This was a battle that you had to fight everyday, and knowing how futile it was, you had simply stopped trying to fight it.
“You know,” Dylan said thoughtfully, analysing your features with his arms crossed over his chest, “Y/N’s nose doesn’t quite match up with the rest of her face.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Chad agreed. “Here, let me fix it for you.” Before you could even register what was happening, his fist had smacked into your nose, and you felt blood trickle down to your lip. You stood frozen in shock as Troy reached out to punch your cheeks as well for good measure. Never before had they resorted to physical violence, and you had no idea how to react.
You felt their eyes sizing you up again, but before anyone could take another swing at you, the bell rang, and you got the hell out of there. Their voices called after you, taunting you, but you blocked them out, heading to the front of the school where you knew Sam and Dean would be parked with the Impala.
You slid into the backseat, keeping your head down to hide your face from them. “How was school?” Sam asked.
“Just drive, please,” you answered, close to tears. You wanted nothing more than to be as far from that school as possible.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked. When you didn’t reply, they both turned back to look at you in the backseat. “Y/N?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered. Dean’s hand reached out and took a hold of your chin, tilting your head up so that they could see you properly. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Dean said through gritted teeth, “Who did this to you?”
“No one! Can we please just leave,” you said through the tears that had started to fall. But your eyes unwittingly flicked towards the football field, where the football team was warming up before practise.
“The football team?” Sam asked. You nodded, knowing that there was no use trying to hide things from them anymore. Through your sobs, you told them everything, beginning a few weeks ago with snide comments, and ending with today, when their fists had joined in on the fun.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sam asked gently.
“Be-because I was scared!” you whispered. “They made me feel so weak.”
“You just wait here, alright?” Dean said, getting out of the car.
“Where are you going?”
“Where do you think?” Sam responded, climbing out of the car himself. For several minutes, you waited there, not daring to look out the window for fear of what you might see. But finally, Sam and Dean opened the doors and got back into the car.
“Here you go,” Dean said, passing your phone back to you. As he withdrew his hand, you noticed that his knuckles were slightly bloody.
“What did you do to them?” you wanted to know.
“Let’s just say that they won’t bother you anymore,” Sam replied.
“That’s right,” Dean added. “No one makes our sister feel weak and gets away with it.”
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
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.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
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.”
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
hi can i get a dean imagine where your in a car accident after a fight with dean about a hunt and he feels awful about it and fluff? thanks doll :)
Anonymous
Hey. I hope you like it!
~~~~~
“What the hell was that, Dean?” you fumed, storming into the bunker. You whipped around, folding your arms across your chest and fixing him with a furious expression.
“Oh, you’re one to talk,” he retorted. “What were you thinking? When we have a plan, we stick to it. If I hadn’t saved you -” You snorted, your expression turning to one of utter disbelief.
“Saved me? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Glaring at him, you took a step closer and drew yourself up to your full height. Through gritted teeth, you said, “Dean, you have a hero complex. And you know what? I was perfectly capable of handling myself until you showed up. The reason that hunt nearly got us both killed was you. Not me.”
Dean reeled back as though he’d been slapped, and you took his brief silence as a moment to exit the bunker, making sure to slam the door behind you. Getting behind the wheel of your car, you pulled away from the bunker. Away from Dean. But the further you drove, the more your anger left you, and in its place the guilt set in. You knew Dean had only been doing what he’d thought was right. You had no right to treat him like that. He’d only been trying to help you.
Making your decision, you made a U-turn, knowing that the back roads were generally pretty quiet, so no one would get in your way. But in all the time that you’d been thinking, you hadn’t even noticed the car that had turned onto the road behind you. You sped off towards Dean, only registering the other vehicle just before the moment of collision. There was the squeal of brakes, and a large smash, and then you blacked out, feeling shards of glass from the windscreen cut you as the airbag slammed into your chest.
—-
When you woke up, you had the strangest sensation that something was tugging against your arm. For a moment, you panicked, and strained to free yourself from its grip. But as consciousness set in properly, you realised that it was an IV, not an attacker. You slumped back against the pillows, realising that you must be in the hospital.
But then something did grab your arm and you froze, turning to look at whoever it was who had you in their clutches. “Dean…” you breathed, relaxing once more as you took in the sight of him. Who else would it have been?
“Y/N, thank God you’re alright,” he answered, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “They told me you’d be okay, but I didn’t want to believe it until I saw you for myself.”
“I’m fine,” you answered, remembering why you’d gone on that drive which had resulted in the accident in the first place. Dean was evidently remembering it too, as you noticed that the guilt had carved itself across his features.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t been fighting with you -”
“Dean,” you interrupted. “It wasn’t your fault. You were only trying to help me, and I was a bitch about it. In fact, just before I crashed, I was turning around to come see you. I didn’t mean any of it - the things I said were horrible. And none of them were true, you have to know that.” You paused, taking a moment before you said the most important thing you had to say. “Dean, I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“Y/N, I’m just glad you’re alive. Of course I forgive you,” Dean told you, moving the strands of hair off your forehead so that he could stroke your temple. You smiled at him, loving how he could be so tender and gentle around you even after the things you’d said to him.
“You’re too good for me, Dean Winchester,” you murmured, leaning into the hand that was now cupping your cheek.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. There’s nothing special about me,” he answered, giving you a sad smile.
“Dean,” you said seriously, looking him dead in the eye, “there’s everything special about you.”
~~~~~
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Okey first of all your blog is awesome! Could you write a a Dean imagine where you dance on "Island in the sun" by Weezer?
Anonymous
Thank you so much! Actually, I listened to this song for the first time when I wrote this, and it’s actually pretty catchy. Also, I haven’t really written something like this before, so I hope it’s alright.
~~~~~
You sighed, slamming the lore book shut and watching as a cloud of dust rose up from the pages. You and Dean had been researching for hours, and you still had nothing. But now, the words had blurred into one another and you were seeing the passages without taking anything in. If you were going to have any chance of finding anything out about this creature, you were going to have to take a break.
Standing up, you headed to the radio in the corner of the room, tuning in to your favourite station. As “Island in the Sun” by Weezer came on, you smiled, and an idea popped into your head. “Come on,” you said to Dean, pulling him up from his chair.
“What are you doing?” he asked, staring at you in confusion. “We have research to do -”
“Shhh,” you interrupted, placing a finger over his lips. “Just go with it.” You pulled him into the centre of the room and started swaying in time with the music. Soon enough, he picked up on what you were doing and placed his hands on your waist, leaving you to wrap your arms around his neck.
For once, you were able to do something carefree, something that didn’t involve danger, where there was no pressure to succeed. It was just you and Dean, dancing around the room with stupid grins on your faces. And by the time the final chorus came on, you both sang along.
“On an island in the sun
We’ll be playing and having fun
And it makes me feel so fine
I can’t control my brain.”
You both laughed, pulling away from one another as the final notes of the song died out and the radio switched to a different track. Dean mockingly bowed, as if the two of you were at an old fashioned dance. You grinned, curtsying back. “Who knows?” you joked. “Maybe this will be our song!”
Dean smiled softly at you, gazing at you with a tender expression. “Who knows?”
~~~~~
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Could you write an imagine where the reader surprises Dean by baking all of his favorite pies at once because you see how drained he is and it's just super fluffy?
Anonymous
Hi. I hope you like it!
~~~~~
The sound of the Impala’s engine faded into the distance, leaving the bunker in silence. You knew that Sam was reading up on some lore, but you didn’t want to distract him. So you were left to your own devices until Dean got back tomorrow. He’d left to go interview some witnesses, to try and shed some light on the monster they were hunting.
As you’d said goodbye to him, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He’d been working so hard the past few weeks, and the strain was starting to show. His eyes were lined with bags and he walked as though a large weight was on his shoulders, forcing him to slump and drag himself along. You also knew that he’d been having trouble sleeping lately, which couldn’t have been helping.
You bit your lip, frowning slightly as you thought. You had nothing else to do today, so maybe you could do something for Dean, a nice surprise to take his mind off hunting for the time. Smiling, you headed into the kitchen and grabbed an apron, hoping that you had all the ingredients you would need.
—-
The next day, as you heard the Impala pulling back into the bunker’s garage, you darted out of the kitchen, a huge smile on your face. You had been in a baking frenzy all night, and couldn’t wait to show Dean what you had prepared for him. Sam had even come in at one point and - after you’d explained what you were doing to him - helped for a little while.
“Dean!” you squealed, throwing your arms around him as he came through the door.
“Hey, Y/N,” he laughed wearily, hugging you back. “I take it you missed me?”
“Yep.” You grabbed his hand, tugging him in the direction of the kitchen.
“Hey, I’m drained right now. Do you think we could do this later?” You glanced back at him, taking in his exhaustion. It wouldn’t hurt to wait, you supposed… “Hang on,” Dean added. “Do I smell pie?” You grinned, knowing that there was no way he’d want to go to sleep now.
“Maybe,” you sang, going ahead of him into the kitchen. “Although it rather use it as a plural.” As Dean saw the table, his jaw dropped. Laid out before him were several fresh pies, the most recent one still steaming. “Just a little something I did to surprise you,” you told him. “There’s apple pie, pecan pie and cherry pie.”
“I love you!” Dean exclaimed, swinging you around in his arms. You laughed, begging him to put you back down again. When he did, you looked up at him and saw that through the exhaustion, he was genuinely happy to see what you’d done for him.
“I just thought you could do with a little something to cheer you up,” you said. “I know the last few weeks have been tough on you…” Dean smiled, and it was clearly genuine, despite the tiredness he obviously felt.
“Y/N? You’re awesome,” he uttered.
~~~~~
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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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