Supernatural Imagines

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Hi! I’m so, so, so, so sorry this took so long to write! It’s just, at first, I didn’t realise what you meant, so I saved it in notes. And then when I did realise, I was working in something else but then I completely forgot about it! So yeah, I’m really sorry.

And also, I hope I was right in my interpretation of your request. But regardless, I hope you like it.

~~~~~

Your foot kept up a rhythmic tapping against the legs of your chair as you flipped through a book of lore. With your head propped up by your hand, you blew out a puff of air, the words on the page blurring together before your eyes. Ever since Cas had gone, the fun had gone out of hunting. That’s not to say it was very much fun normally, but now there was nothing to joke about, no laughing and teasing as you researched. Purgatory had changed Dean, and meeting Amelia had changed Sam. And of course, losing Castiel, your boyfriend of several months, had changed you.

He was gone now, and you weren’t going to see him again. You weren’t going to see his smile, or feel his arms around you, or hear the beating of his wings as he appeared in the room, startling everyone by appearing right behind them. You wouldn’t get to see his confused squint again, or make it go away by explaining something.

“Y/N?” You looked up to find Dean hovering nervously over you, having come into your room from his own. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. “I…I have something to tell you.”

“What’s up?” Even you could hear the dullness in your voice, could feel the absence of laughter. Dean glanced at you and you could see pity etched on his face, along with an immense sadness. You didn’t want him to feel sorry for you, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel nervous about whatever he was going to say. As a rule, none of you discussed the past year if you didn’t have to, so whatever Dean didn’t want to say was obviously important.

“Y/N, there’s something you need to know.” You nodded, irritated at his hesitancy. He needed to just say it and get it over with. Dean took a deep breath, before launching into speech. “Well…I’ve been seeing him. Cas, I mean. At first I thought that I was imagining it, but now…”

You sucked in a breath, almost forgetting to release it again. “You what? Are you saying you think he’s back?”

Dean shook his head. “More than think. I know.” You blinked, your eyebrows drawing together.

“But I thought you said he died when you tried to get out of Purgatory,” you said slowly, twisting to look up at him. “Dean,” you said in a warning tone when he didn’t respond. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I lied, okay?” he exclaimed after a few moments of silence. You shot to your feet.

“What?” Your eyes searched his face, seeing the truth that lay there. “Why?” you whispered, your voice coming from far away. Cas. That was all you could think of.

“Because I didn’t want you to know the truth,” Dean answered.

“What truth? Dean, what’s going on?” you demanded. He looked at you sadly for a minute, almost as if he was trying to work out how to break his news to you.

“Y/N, Cas didn’t want to come back.” You sunk back down into your chair, grabbing onto the back of it, clutching it like a lifeline. It didn’t make sense. Cas, your Cas. He couldn’t have just left you. Dean must’ve made a mistake. Castiel would’ve done anything to make it back, to see you again. Your face must’ve broadcast each of these thoughts, because Dean continued. “I tried, Y/N. We were supposed to make it out together. But at the last minute…he let go.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But it’s true,” Dean said gently. “But he’s here now. He’s just gone to get cleaned up.”

“Why didn’t he come to see me?”

“I don’t know,” Dean murmured.

“No,” you repeated, desperate carved into your chest. “He wouldn’t do this. He would’ve come straight back. He would’ve wanted to see me again.” Dean stayed silent, watching you with sorrow.

Something in you snapped, as if the thread tying your heart together had come undone. After thinking Cas was gone forever, you’d finally found out that you might get to see him again, only to find out that he apparently had a different agenda. “I need to get out of here.”

“Hey, hey. What are you doing?” Dean asked, reaching out to stop you as you grabbed your duffel bag and began shoving things into it.

“I need to get out, Dean. I need to think some things through.” You caught a glimpse of his worried expression, and your own face softened. “I’ll come back, Dean. And I’ll be careful. I promise. I just need a bit of time on my own. This is…it’s a lot to get my head around.” He nodded, dropping his hand to allow you to continue.

Around 10 minutes later, you were heading out the door. You paused for a moment with your hand on the doorframe, and you turned back to Dean. “Goodbye.” You walked away before he replied, wiping away the stray tears that had managed to escape. You just wished that your goodbye hadn’t sounded so final.

——

You’d been on your own for three days, staying in some crummy motel in a small town. Although you stood out amongst the locals, you figured no one would come looking for you here.

But then you heard the fluttering of wings and you spun around, grabbing your angel blade off the bed as you prepared to fight whoever it was who had come looking for you. But you realised that the eyes in front of you were not cold and calculating, rather they were a deep blue, the kind of blue you could get lost in. You took in the dark hair, the worn lines of the angel’s face. And finally - the trenchcoat. The blade dropped from your hands. “Castiel?”

“Y/N.” He took two steps towards you, pulling you tightly against him. Burying your head against his collarbone, you began to sob. Until now, you hadn’t realised how much grief you’d been carrying. But now that the relief was hitting you, you realised just how dark the past year had been for you.

“How?” It was a simple question, but all that was needed. You pulled away from him, drinking in every line of his face, tracing over the planes of his features with a delicate finger.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But that’s not important. What matters is that I’m here, with you.” You let your hand fall away from his face, stepping back as if you’d been shocked. “What is it? Have I done something wrong?” he asked in concern.

You clenched your fist, holding back from slapping him. “Are you actually asking me that?” You laughed bitterly before continuing. “You know, I was so glad to see you again that I completely forgot what happened a few days back. You see, Dean came over to me and told me that not only did you choose to stay in Purgatory, but you also didn’t come over to see me when you got back. Instead, you went and took a shower.” Your voice dropped. “Cas, I’ve wanted to see you again for so long. I thought you were gone forever. Do you realise how much it killed me to find out that while I was overjoyed at the thought of having you back, you didn’t even want to say hi?”

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that,” Castiel insisted, reaching out for you.

You shrugged his arm off. “Then what was it like?” He dropped his gaze, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“I did a lot of bad things before I went to Purgatory. I was the reason Dean and I were able to go there in the first place. I couldn’t face you after that. I couldn’t stand to see you look at me, knowing all the terrible things I caused. And I guess…I guess I stayed in Purgatory because I felt as though I deserved it, that I had to stay there as a penance of sorts.”

“Cas,” you murmured. When he didn’t look up, you tilted his head up so that he was looking straight at you. “Cas,” you repeated, a little firmer this time. “There is no mistake you can make that I won’t forgive you for. And that’s what this was - a mistake. Sure, it was a pretty big one,” you conceded, “but you’re still you. And I love you, mistakes and all.”

“Do you really mean that?” he asked hesitantly. You brushed a kiss against his lips.

“Yes, Cas. I really do.”

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! It’s not my best, because I misread something and then I had to rewrite part of it, and it’s getting late so I just wanted to post it. And I’m really sorry for the lack of updates lately. I had a geography test today and I have to learn two sets of lines, as well as work on several assignments. But I’ll hopefully write some more over the next few days.

AND DID YOU GUYS HEAR?? MISHA COLLINS IS CONFIRMED FOR SEASON 10!!!!!!

Please don’t repost without giving credit.

May 8

could you write about the reader being in the shower or just getting done & be walking around the bunker in a towel and the boys walk in on you whilst running lotion on ? or you know something of that sort. :)

Anonymous

Hi. Sorry for the wait! This definitely wasn’t one of my best works, but I think my description and imagery are getting a little better, at least.

I hope you like it!

~~~~~

You stood beneath the shower head, the water running in rivulets down your skin. The steam was filling up the bathroom, rising up from your body. You hummed to yourself as you massaged the shampoo into your scalp, before rinsing your hair out and moving on to the conditioner.

When it had all been washed from your hair, you stuck out your hand to turn off the tap. The steady stream of water stopped and you stepped out of the shower, shivering at the sudden change in temperature. You grabbed the towel off the rack, rubbing it over yourself to dry off. When most of the droplets had disappeared from your skin, you wrapped it around you, tucking in the end so that it wouldn’t come undone.

“Damn,” you muttered, rummaging through the cabinets. You couldn’t find your lotion anywhere and you realised too late that you had run out just yesterday, and the new bottle you had bought was still sitting on the kitchen table with the rest of the shopping that was yet to be put away.

Switching off the light, you padded out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. Sam and Dean were out, so you weren’t worried about anyone seeing you. By the time you had retrieved your lotion, you couldn’t be bothered to head back to the bathroom, so you plonked yourself down on one of the chairs and decided to do it there.

You were just rubbing some of the cream onto your leg when you heard a door slam, followed by voices and footsteps coming down the stairs. You froze, but before you had a chance to go anywhere, the boys entered the room.

“Hey-” Sam began, stopping abruptly when he saw what you were doing. Beside him, Dean had also come to a halt, and both boys were shifting their gazes around the room, looking at anything but you. Sam cleared his throat. “Well, uh, we’re back.”

“That’s for that, Captain Obvious,” you answered, trying to hide your embarrassment as you straightened the towel around you to make sure it covered everything.

“So…why are you…you know,” Dean stuttered, clearly at a loss for words.

“Putting on lotion in the kitchen?” you asked. When he nodded, you continued. “I just had a shower and I’d left it in here. I figured that since you guys weren’t home…”

“Right. Sorry about barging in,” Sam apologised hastily. His cheeks were still a bit pink, and he was clearly mortified. Not that he was the only one, of course.

“You know what?” You stood up, grabbing the bottle of lotion, the bane of your existence at the present moment. “I’m just gonna to go finish this in my bedroom. Maybe put some clothes on while I’m at it,” you added as an afterthought. You pushed past them, scurrying towards your room. As you went, you could feel their eyes on you, but they quickly shifted their eyes away when you glanced back at them.

When you finally shut your bedroom door, you leaned against the back of it and let out a sigh. When they had gotten over their embarrassment, they were never going to let you live this down.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Sorry for the lack of posts these past few days. I’ve been really busy with schoolwork.

Please don’t repost without giving credit.

May 4

ahh can you do an imagine where reader gets possessed by a demon and dean has to torture the demon/reader but he can't do it bc he loves the reader a lot so just exercises her and its really fluffy at the end thanks. I love your writing btw.

Hey. Thank you! I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it.

~~~~~

You felt your body saunter into the room, your hands covering Dean’s eyes from behind. “Guess who,” you heard your voice croon.

“I know it’s you, Y/N,” Dean smiled, leaning into you. You moved in closer so that your lips brushed against his ear.

“Guess again.” Dean tensed, the smile dropping from his face. He spun around, pinning you against the wall with his arm against your throat.

“You’re a demon,” he spat. His arm tightened against your throat, cutting into your air supply. Despite the anger in Dean’s expression, you could still see the hurt in his eyes. It tugged at your heart, making you that much more desperate to regain control of your body, to show the demon who was boss.

You had never been possessed before. Your tattoo had ensured that. But tonight, you had gone for a walk when you had been tackled to the ground, a knife slashing across your tattoo, making the lines incomplete. The black smoke had poured into your mouth, the body of the demon’s previous meat suit falling to the ground. You had come to this town to hunt the demons but instead, they’d hunted you.

“My, my, you’re not just a pretty face,” the demon inside you murmured. “I must say, when we first found out you were looking into us, everyone just laughed. But not me, though. I knew you’d crack onto us eventually.”

“I’m so glad to have lived up to your expectations,” Dean answered sarcastically. “What have you done with Y/N?”

“I wouldn’t worry, Dean. She’s still in here,” the demon replied flippantly. “I can hear her. She misses you.” A pained look flashed across Dean’s face, quickly covered up again by a stormy anger. He grabbed your arms and propelled you across the room, pushing your body down onto the motel bed.

“Dean, I’m flattered!” the demon said in a sultry tone. “But don’t forget that we aren’t alone. How do you think Y/N feels?” You were fuming, and the demon knew it. You could feel her satisfaction, could sense that she was gloating at your anger. But there was nothing you could do. Right now, she was the captain of this ship.

“I think she feels pretty pleased right now.” At the demon’s confusion, Dean smirked. “I drew a Devil’s Trap under the bed while she was gone. I like to take precautions.” You felt the demon’s amusement fade, a murderous rage filling her.

“You asshole,” she hissed, the sound of it inhuman.

“Yes, well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself,” he pointed out. “Now, let’s get back to the important business, shall we? I want to know where your little group has set up base. You’re going to tell me every single detail of your plan.”

“Am I?” Dean simply stared back stonily, refusing to dignify the demon’s remark with a response. “Well, if you want me to tell you anything, you’ll have to make me.” Your body had raised for the last part of that sentence, the demon getting right in Dean’s face before whispering those words in a darkly flirtatious tone.

Dean’s eyes seem to dim slightly, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He reached for his knife, holding it against your arm. But you could tell that he couldn’t do it, and the demon knew it too. “Something wrong, Dean?” she asked innocently. He gritted his teeth, clutching the knife tighter. You fought hard, gathering all your strength to break free from the demon’s control, even if just for a second. You had to tell Dean to go through with this. The information was vital, and you couldn’t get it yourself because the demon was shielding those thoughts from you, surrounding them with an impenetrable barrier.

“Dean,” you whispered. You felt your eyes return to normal, the blackness temporarily fleeing from them. “You have to do it. We need to stop them.” His face softened, a tormented look in his eyes.

“Y/N…I can’t…” You lost control, his brokenness shattering your heart and draining the fight from you. But he had received the message - now it was a matter of whether or not he would listen to it.

“Oh, Dean,” the demon taunted as your eyes flicked back to black. His face fell as he realised you had lost the battle for control, that you were tucked back inside. You were a puppet, and the demon was pulling the strings. “Haven’t you heard? Love is a weakness.” Dean’s face hardened at these words, determination taking over his features.

“No, it isn’t. It’s a strength.” He dropped the knife, and you felt elation swell inside the demon. She thought she had cracked Dean. But then he opened his mouth again. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio,” he chanted. Inside you, the demon grew furious and your body started jerking. “Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica, ergo draco maledicte et sectio.” As he continued, you felt the demon’s control start to slip and your own strength increased. You began to fight through the pain, fighting to help Dean expel the demon. “Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica. Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte, te rogámus, audi nos!” Your head shot back, the black smoke pouring from your mouth and back to where it belonged. Your body flopped back down on the bed and you coughed, your body shaky from the ordeal.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Dean asked, rushing to kneel beside you.

“You…you were supposed to get the info,” you told him softly, your voice lacking conviction due to the weakness in your body.

“I couldn’t do it,” he choked out, brushing your hair across your forehead.

“Why?” you asked. Dean didn’t answer, instead looking around the room to avoid your eyes. “Was she right? About why you stopped? Do you love me?” Your voice was quiet, timid. The two of you had been a couple for a few months now, but never had either of you professed such strong feelings for one another. And as much as you wanted to know his answer, you knew it had the power to either make or break your relationship.

Dean’s gaze finally shifted from the bedside table to you, his green eyes holding yours. “Y/N, after all we’ve been through, how could you ever think otherwise?” A soft smile spread across your features and you leaned up to press your lips against Dean. Your mouth moved against his, and you smiled into the kiss.

“I love you, too,” you murmured against his lips.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading. I’m not really sure about this one, but I did my best.

Please don’t repost without giving credit!

May 3

Hi :) could you do me an imagine where the reader finds out she pregnant with Dean's baby and she's scared that he doesn't want it but he does and it's really fluffy. I hope it isn't to much and I love your account xx

Anonymous

Hi. Thank you! I’m sorry that the ending is a bit rushed, but I’m exhausted and I wanted to get this posted before going to bed.

~~~~~

You sat down heavily on the lid of the toilet, your head between your legs as you tried to calm down your breathing. A stick was clenched in your hand, burning into you as the full implications of it dawned on you. Because on that stick were two little lines.

You were pregnant.

For many woman, this was the kind of thing that induced squealing, that promoted shopping lists to be made and shopping trolleys to be filled with nappies and toys and onesies. But for you, it meant stress and nerves and danger. How were you supposed to raise a child as a hunter? How were you supposed to cover the expenses that came with having a whole new person to take care of? And most importantly…how would Dean react? You had never talked about having kids. It just seemed a given that you wouldn’t, considering the lives that you led. You had seen him with kids; you knew he would make an incredible father. But you also knew that he thought the hunting life was no place to raise a child.

You never thought you’d be in this position. The two of you had always made sure to use protection. So when you’d woken up feeling sick a few weeks ago, you hadn’t thought much of it. You ate a lot of take out, and you just assumed that some of it had been off. But then the vomiting had continued for the next few mornings, and you wondered if you might’ve caught a bug. But it was when you realised you were late that you had started to think that what was wrong with you might not be something that a couple of days of bed rest could fix.

And so you’d offered to run to the shops for a supply run a couple of days ago, slipping a pregnancy test into your shopping basket. But when you got home, you didn’t have the guts to use it. The same thing had happened all yesterday. Today, however, you knew that you couldn’t put it off any longer. If the test said negative, you could stop stressing and pretend that none of this ever happened. But the test had said positive, and now you had a whole lot more to think about.

“Y/N?” Dean called, rapping his knuckles against the outside of the door. “You’ve been in there a while. Is everything alright?”

“I…no,” you whispered, a single tear escaping from the corner of your eye and slipping down your cheek, forming a dark patch on the collar of your jumper.

“Do you think you could let me in?” Dean asked, his voice laced with concern. Silently, you reached out to unlock the door, allowing him to step around the doorframe. When he saw the position you were in, he immediately knelt down in front of you, pulling you into his embrace. “Hey, shh, it’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Don’t be mad,” you pleaded. He frowned back at you in confusion, his eyes searching your face for an explanation. But instead of providing one, you slipped the pregnancy test into his hand, hoping that he would work out the rest for himself.

“Is this… Are you pregnant?” he questioned. You nodded, not daring to look at him for fear of his reaction. You felt his finger hook under your chin and he tipped your head up so that you were face to face. “This is incredible,” he murmured, his face breaking out into the biggest grin you’d ever seen on him. “Just wait until I tell Sammy. I’m gonna be a dad!”

You laughed shakily, confused by his response. “So you aren’t angry?”

“Why would I be angry?” he asked in bewilderment.

“Because I know that we’ve never talked about it and we’re hunters and this is so not the kind of life you should raise a child in and I know how you feel about all that and -”

“Hey,” he said, cutting off your rambling. “That doesn’t matter. None of that matters. We’re going to make this work, okay?” he promised. “Because I love you, and I love our baby. And you, me and Sammy are going to find a way.”

~~~~~

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

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I had a few requests for a Part 2 to an imagine I wrote yesterday, so I wrote one, trying to fit in all the things you guys suggested for it. I’m really glad you guys liked the first one so much!

LINK TO PART ONE: http://imagines-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/84220821934/can-you-do-imagine-the-reader-finding-out-deans-been

~~~~~

“Thanks,” you muttered, slamming the door of the pick up truck shut. The driver was the fifth person to give you a lift back to the bunker, each person only able to take you a short distance before their lives carried them in another direction. But now you were almost home, and as you hitched your duffel bag up onto your shoulder, you began the long walk which would take you to the door of the bunker.

As you trudged along, the occasional autumn leaf crunching underfoot, you thought about Dean. You knew that he was the kind of guy to have a lot of one night stands, but you thought that all that had been before you. You thought that what you had was different, and he had led you to believe that he felt the same way. But maybe you had just misread the signs, searching so hard for something that you willed it into existence.

You let yourself into the bunker, your feet thumping down the stairs. “Hey,” Sam called out, coming into view. “Where’s Dean?” The colour drained from your face and you shook your head slowly, locking your eyes onto Sam as if he was the only thing holding you above water. He noticed your mood, the way you held yourself, and his expression turned fiercely protective. “What did he do?”

“I didn’t quite catch her name,” you answered bitterly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“That asshole!” he exclaimed. He strode towards you, holding you up as you collapsed into him. Your body shook and he didn’t comment on your tears, although it was impossible for him not to notice. He simply held you tighter, slowly rocking you back and forth. “Did you want to talk about it?” Your head was tucked up against his chest, and his words were muffled. Shaking your head, you burrowed deeper into the flannel of his shirt.

The two of you stood there like that for several minutes, Sam anchoring you and providing a solid foundation to hold you up. But the peace you had found was interrupted by a loud bang as the door was flung open. You spun around, bracing yourself for an attack, but slumped again as you realised what had caused the ruckus. Dean.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice almost drowned out by the sounds of his feet clattering down the steps. He began to make his way towards you but you shrank back, tucking yourself into the arm Sam wrapped around you. Dean stopped, his expression pained at the obvious mistrust you had in him.

“Please. Just hear me out,” he begged as Sam’s gripped tightened on you. He started to tell Dean to get out, but you cut him off.

“Do you think you could give us a minute?” you asked quietly. At his look of protest, you held your ground, giving him a look that conveyed your determination to speak with Dean. You had to tell him it was over, that there was no going back from this. And you knew that this particular conversation was one Sam couldn’t be present for. As he walked off, you turned back to Dean. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I left almost as soon as you stormed out.” You frowned up at him in confusion, unsure as to why he’d do such a thing.

“Why? You seemed pretty busy to me,” you said bitterly, a dark look crossing your face at the memory.

“Y/N, I was never gonna let you go without putting up a fight,” he said earnestly, his eyes pleading with you to understand him, to forgive him.

“You didn’t let me go. You pushed me away,” you told him, shutting your eyes for a moment to will back the tears that were building up.

“I know,” he agreed. “I made a mistake. And I’m so, so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself.” You lifted your eyelids, fixing him with a cutting look.

“A mistake happens once. By the sound of things, this has happened a few times.”

“Look, I’m sorry! Just give me another chance and I swear I’ll never do anything like it again,” he promised. You gazed at him dubiously, the hurt pulling at your heart, sharper and more painful then the fangs of any werewolf could ever be. He saw your doubt, and he gave it another shot, seeming to sense exactly what you needed to hear from him in order to be sure of where his loyalties lay. “Do you remember that day in the diner?” he asked, taking a step closer to you. “It was a Wednesday, just after the lunch rush was over. Sammy and I came in and you were working. And when you came over, you wrote down our order in a pink pen. I thought it was a bit weird, and you explained that you were always putting your pens down places and forgetting where they were.” He paused for a minute, searching your face for a reaction, some sign that his words were working. “I told you that of all the angels I’d met, I’d never seen one as heavenly as you. I bet you didn’t realise just how serious I was being.” You smiled in spite of yourself, thinking of the layer of truth in the words he’d first said to you so long ago.

Dean saw the crack in your hard demeanour and reached forward, carefully grasping your hands in his. When you didn’t push him away, he continued on, growing encouraged by your weakening resistance. “And we arranged to meet up that night, but I was so nervous, I almost missed it trying to pick out the right flowers for you. I don’t normally do that kind of thing, but I felt that you were something different, something special.” You glanced up in surprise, your jaw hanging slightly agape. In all the stress and fear of that night, with all the patching up and explanations that had gone on, you’d never realised that he’d bought you flowers. They must have stayed in the backseat of the Impala, left to wilt.

“You bought me flowers?” you asked in a hushed voice. He nodded.

“Yeah, I did. But I never got to give them to you,” he responded. “I was lucky enough to find you alive.” His voice cracked, and he glanced down to compose himself before continuing. “When I saw you on the ground with that monster hovering over you, I knew that I had to protect you, that I wanted to protect for years to come. And I know…I know I haven’t done such a good job of it lately, that I was the one you needed to be protected from, but I would do anything for a second chance with you. Because I love you, and I don’t think I’m ever going to want to protect anyone else as much as I want to protect you.”

You blinked back more tears. But this time, they came from a different place, one of happiness rather than sorrow. “You’d do anything?”

“Anything,” he confirmed. You thought for a moment, wanting so badly to have Dean back, but not knowing if you should grant him forgiveness.

“Alright. I…okay,” you conceded after much consideration. “We aren’t going to be back where we were. In fact, we aren’t even going to be dating straight away,” you told him. “But I want you back so badly, so if you can prove to me that I can trust you, I’ll do it. I’ll trust you again.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes filling with life at what you had just offered him. And even though this was only the start of his attempt to redeem himself, you could see his resolve, and you knew that this time, he wasn’t going to let you slip away again.

~~~~~

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

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

Anonymous

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

Anyway, I hope you like it!

~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~

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

Can you do "Imagine the reader finding out Dean's been cheating on her"?

Anonymous

Hi. I sure can! I hope you like it.

And I just wanted to say that reading over my more recent fics, I think I’ve noticed improvement from when I first started writing these. So I’m really proud of myself at the moment.

~~~~~

You ambled along the footpath towards the motel, gazing around at the night around you. The street lamps had just come on, casting a glow across the pavement. As cars sped along the highway, not far away from where you stood, you could see the flash of headlights and hear the sound of their engines.

This was a rare night off for you, a break from the constant researching and fighting that life as a hunter involved. You intended to make the most of it, not rushing anywhere, but just taking the time to relax, to take things in.

As the motel came into view, you smiled to yourself, knowing that Dean was waiting for you inside. The two of you had been dating for around five months. It had all started when you’d been working your shift at the local diner and two men had come in, who you later found out were Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean had flirted with you, causing a flush to creep along your cheekbones. He’d asked to meet you after your shift and you had agreed. After all, it had been a while since someone had shown in interest in you and he seemed like quite a nice guy.

But then he’d been running late, and you were attacked by a werewolf. It’s claws had ripped into you, it’s fangs heading straight towards your chest, saliva dripping off the sharp points. If Dean had shown up a minute later, you would’ve been dead. So you had started hunting with them, never wanting to feel the powerlessness of that night ever again.

You fitted your room key into the lock, twisting the doorknob. “Dean?” you called out, opening up the door. Before you lay a man and a woman in the bed together, passionately making out. You apologised profusely, thinking at first that you had entered the wrong room. “Wait a minute. Dean?” Your expression turned to one of horror as you realised that the man in the bed was your boyfriend, the man you loved. Who apparently didn’t care much for you in return.

“Y/N?” Dean asked, sitting up and pulling the quilt over himself and the woman. “I thought you said you would be out for a couple more hours?”

“I’m sorry, does that suddenly make it okay to sleep with someone else?” you choked out, fighting to push back the tears.

“Who’s this?” the woman asked, holding the quilt up to cover her bare chest.

“His girlfriend,” you answered bitterly, your gaze locked on Dean. An aching had spread through your chest, the betrayal a stab to your heart.

“You never told me you had a girlfriend,” she said, turning to Dean. You rolled your eyes. As if they’d had much of a chance to talk in the hour or two they’d known each other. “Is this why you cancelled on me the other night?” she continued. Your eyes widened, hysteria rising up inside you.

“What? This has happened before?” All the barriers you’d built against the tears were torn down, your emotions a hurricane whirling around inside you. The tears sprang from your eyes, streaking down your cheeks.

“Y/N, I never meant to hurt you,” Dean told you.

“Well, gr-great job on that,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around your stomach. “H-how could y-you do this to me?”

“I still love you, Y/N. You have to believe me,” he pleaded. Slowly, you shook your head at him, watching as he fell silent.

“I trusted you,” you whispered.

“You still can. I’ll make it up to you. I promise!”

“No, Dean, you won’t,” you stated hollowly. “It’s over.” His face blanched, his features losing the hope and fight they’d contained a minute ago.

“You’re leaving me?” he whispered. “But…will I ever see you again?”

“Yes,” you answered. For a moment, a spark of hope filled his eyes again, before dying out as you continued. “Sam’s a very close friend of mine. I’ll stick around to hunt with him. But if you ever talk to me again outside of business, I’ll leave forever,” you warned. Your body shook and you bit down on your lip, working hard to maintain your composure. “Because what you’ve done, Dean…there’s no making up for it.”

You picked your bag up from the ground, stuffing a few loose items inside. Dean called out for you, begging you to hear him out. But you stormed out of the room, off to hitch a ride back to the bunker. The more steps you took, the further away Dean got, and his voice soon died away. And as soon as you couldn’t hear him, you knew that it meant he wouldn’t be able to hear your anguished sobs.

~~~~~

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

LINK TO PART TWO:
http://imagines-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/84318320714/i-had-a-few-requests-for-a-part-2-to-an-imagine-i

Your work is freaking amazing. Can you write one where the reader gets caught up in a hunt situation and won't leave till she figures out what's going on and then she really warms up to Sam and it gets really fluffyyy? :)

Anonymous

Hey. Thank you so much! I hope this is what you were after! And sorry about the wait.

I’m actually really proud of this, so I hope you like it!
~~~~~

Sobs wracked your body, your mother’s lifeless form cradled in your arms. She was just sleeping, it’d be fine. If you shook her hard enough, called her name loud enough, she’d wake up. Except she didn’t.

Standing up slowly, you gazed around your living room, ravaged by destruction. The furniture was turned over, the coffee table practically in splinters. The couch - the one you had sat on whilst watching Saturday morning cartoons, where you read on lazy Sundays, the place where your mother had looked after you when you were sick - was completely shredded, the seat cushions thrown around the room and the stuffing coming out.

Stepping forwards, you heard a crunching under your feet and looked down to find the shattered remains of your family photos. On top of the pile lay a photo of you and your mother, taken on your graduation day. Her face was marred by the crack running through the glass, which was ironic considering the fact that you’d just seen her real face shattered, slammed against the wall by an unknown force.

You shuddered, backing away from the room. It was too much, it was all too much. You needed to get out of here, to get away from it all. It couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t. Things like this didn’t happen in real life, and not to your family. These sorts of things were meant to be read about in the papers, watched on the news. Not experienced. But at the same time, you knew that this was nothing like what you’d ever heard of. People weren’t supposed to be thrown about by invisible people. There weren’t even supposed to be invisible people.

You turned around, fleeing back down the hallway towards the front door. However, you were pulled up short, crashing head first into something solid. You backed away in fear, sure that whatever had harmed your mother had come for you. But as you looked up, you realised you could see the thing you had hit, and as it turned out, it wasn’t something, but someone.

Two men stood before you, both wearing formal looking suits. The one you had run into, the taller of the two, had chin length dark hair, and stood beside another man, who was tall but not like the first one, with hair slightly lighter in colour. “Who the hell are you?” you asked, trying to mask your fear.

They both reached into the inside pockets of their suit jackets, pulling out an FBI badge. “Agent Stark and Agent Banner. FBI.” You blinked a little in confusion at their names, but gestured for them to continue. “We were passing through the neighbourhood and heard screams. We thought we’d look into it.”

“It was my mother,” you told them. “She…oh my god, she’s dead.” The reality of it hit you, the force of the realisation winding you. You felt yourself begin to hyperventilate and the taller man touched your arm, guiding you into the kitchen.

“It’s gonna be alright, I promise. You just need to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Can you do that for me?” You nodded, trying to do as he said. Sitting down heavily in a chair, you felt your breathing slowly returning to normal. “Now can you please describe what happened?” the FBI agent asked gently, noticing your calmer state.

“I was just coming home from the shops, and I heard a crash coming from the house, followed by a scream,” you began. “I ran into the house and the living room…it was just trashed. And right in the middle of it all was my mum, and she was just flung across the room and straight into the wall. And she…” you had to swallow before continuing. “She was dead when I got to her.”

“What threw her?”

You flipped up your palms, conveying your cluelessness. “That’s the thing. There was nothing there.”

“Alright, um…?”

“Y/N,” you supplied.

“Alright, Y/N,” the shorter man continued. “Do you think you could tell us if your mum bought anything in the past few days? Probably something old, maybe an antique.”

“What sort of question is that?” you demanded.

“Please, just tell us. Every detail can help, even if it seems insignificant.”

“Well,” you replied, wracking your brain. “I know she was really into going to second hand stores, picking up things she thought were interesting or unusual. She liked the idea that something she owned had a story, a past, as though it was a real person. And I’m pretty sure she went looking in an antique store the other day when she went out, but I have no idea if she got anything.”

The two agents exchanged a glance. “Could you just excuse us for a moment?” the tall one asked. You nodded in consent. As the two of them walked away, you heard them muttering things that sounded like ‘spirits’ and 'EMF’.

“Excuse me,” you interrupted, barging in between the two of them. “When are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

“What are you talking about?” the shorter man asked.

“Well for starters, my mother was thrown across the room by something invisible. Don’t you think that’s just a little bit weird?”

“It was a lot to take in. You were probably just-”

“Don’t you dare tell me I was imagining it!” you cut him off. “I know what I saw. And I think you do as well. I mean, since when do FBI guys talk about ghosts and ask about people buying antiques during a murder investigation? When are FBI guys ever just driving through the neighbourhood?” You raised an eyebrow at them and stood with your hands on your hips, daring them to contradict you. “And don’t think I didn’t notice your names. Agent Stark and Agent Banner? I’ve seen the Avengers, you know. And I don’t think I need to tell you that it’s an offence to impersonate a federal agent.”

“Look, Y/N,” the taller man began.

“If you’re about to tell me I’m making all this up, then you can just shut your mouth,” you warned.

“No, you’re right. We aren’t FBI guys. My name’s Sam Winchester and this is Dean, my brother,” he explained.

You narrowed your eyes at them suspiciously. “What are you doing in my house?”

“You may want to sit down,” Dean suggested.

“I’ve just seen my mum get - get killed,” you answered. “I can handle whatever you’ve got to say.”

“Alright,” Sam began. “Well, what attacked your mother was a spirit. The reason we were asking about any old objects she might have recently purchased was because we’ve been in town investigating a string of similar murders, and we believe she may have come into possession of the item that the spirit is attached to.”

“That’s-that’s ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Ghosts aren’t even real!”

“How else would you explain it?” Dean asked. You opened your mouth, but shut it again when you realised you had no other explanation. “Exactly.”

“So I suppose you guys are like Ghostbusters then?” you joked.

“No. We’re better,” Dean smirked. He turned on his heel, heading outside to where they’d presumably parked their car. You looked back at Sam.

“So…” you began.

“So,” he answered with a smile.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“For what?”

You blushed. “You were very sweet to me before. When I was freaking out, I mean.”

“That was nothing,” he replied bashfully.

“Well if that was nothing, I’d like to see something.” You froze. “I mean, you know, I just -”

“It’s alright,” Sam assured you. “I understand what you’re getting at.” You both stood around for a moment, taking turns to glance at each other before darting your eyes away, not wanting to be caught staring. “I should probably go,” Sam said, interrupting the silence. “Dean’ll be wondering where I am.”

“Wait!” you called after him, stopping him from leaving the room. He turned back to face you, waiting expectantly for you to continue. “I-I want to come with you.”

“Y/N…I don’t think that’s the best idea.” You folded your arms across your chest defiantly.

“And why not? It’s probably a lot better for me than staying here.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” he told you. You snorted.

“Yeah, because my home is so safe at the moment,” you answered sarcastically. He smiled ruefully.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Suddenly, you grew embarrassed, worried that you had overstepped a boundary. “Look, if you don’t want me to come, I understand. I just thought that you seem nice and that we could, I don’t know, get to know one another. Maybe you could help me deal with all this…” you trailed off, wiping away a few stray tears.

“Hey, look at me,” he said firmly. You reluctantly tilted your head upwards, shifting your gaze to meet his. “I’d love for us to get to know each other.”

~~~~~

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

Hey I love your blog :3 can you write an imagine where there's a zombie apocalypse and they're on the road to a safety camp and dean and the reader are arguing and Sam just pushes their heads together and they kiss or something and he mutters "finally" or something. Idk write something like that.

Anonymous

Hi. I’m so glad you like my blog! I hope you like this imagine just as much, and I’m very sorry for the delay.

~~~~~

You trekked along the dirt road, Dean by your side and Sammy just behind the two of you. The dusty track stretched ahead of you for miles, hopefully leading to the safety camp you’d heard rumours of. The world had been thrown into total chaos, a zombie apocalypse taking over and causing mass destruction. Despite all the things you’d faced as a hunter, you had honestly believed that a zombie apocalypse would only ever exist in the minds of Hollywood producers. But it had happened none the less, and there was no way the three of you could handle the problem on your own.

“God, how much longer is it gonna be?” you muttered, rubbing the sweat off your forehead before it had the chance to drip into your eyes and sting them.

“Could you stop whining?” Dean snapped, holding his shotgun at the ready. “We’ve still got a few hours left to walk tonight, and after that it should only be a couple more days before we make it there. Just be grateful we’re walking at night.”

“That’s only because the zombies can’t go out in daylight and it’s the safest time to rest,” you pointed out.

“Shut up!” Dean whispered fiercely. “They’re all gonna hear us if you don’t keep it down!” You shifted your own gun in your hands, holding at so that it could easily be manoeuvred to face Dean.

“Stop having a go at me!” you demanded, sending a furious glare in his direction.

“Are you pointing your gun at me?” he asked in disbelief. You turned to look at him. The shadows fell across his face, concealing his expression from you. Behind him, the outlines of trees seemed to creep forwards, appearing every bit as menacing as the zombies you were hoping to avoid.

“That depends. Are you going to stop being a jerk to me?” you retorted.

“For God’s sake,” Sam muttered, stepping forward. He put a hand on each of your heads, shoving them together. “Just get it over with already.”

You froze, incredibly aware of the close proximity of Dean’s lips. His breath mingled with your own and you gazed up into his eyes, noticing that they flicked down for a moment to look at your lips. Slowly, you leaned forward, feeling him do the same. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you felt a soft pressure on your lips as Dean met them with his own. Your lips moved against his in a slow, passionate kiss and your hands reached up to tangle in his hair. After a few moments, you pulled back to catch your breath.

Standing with your body pressed against Dean, you let your hands relax their grip on him, and he rested his forehead against your own. Only a few millimetres of space lay between your lips, and you could feel your breath mingling with Dean. He pulled back slightly, looking down at your face before bringing you in for another kiss.

“Finally,” Sam muttered.

~~~~~

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

Hey there, can I have an imagine where me and my older sister are staying with the guys and Cas asks me for help to get him and my sister together? My name is CJ and I'm 12. Sorry, figured it would be better than me and one of the guys in a relationship. Love your blog <3

Anonymous

Hi. Thank you! I’m sorry for the wait. I hope it was worth it! And I really enjoyed writing this. I loved the idea for it.

~~~~~

You were sitting cross-legged on your bed in the bunker, your sheets in a crumpled mess beneath you. You crunched on some Doritos, the bag crinkling as you stuck your hand in to grab another. In front of you, the TV was playing Friends reruns, and you laughed at the antics of your favourite characters.

For the past few weeks, you and your sister had been staying with the Winchester boys at their bunker. The two of you had been on the run ever since a vampire had attacked your parents a few months back. You and your sister had managed to escape, but the vampire wanted to finish what it had started. Even though your sister drove you from one motel to the next, constantly on the move to stop it from tracking you, it had eventually caught up with you.

You thought you were going to meet your bloody end in that shabby motel room, found by the cleaning lady the next morning as she came in to scrub the mouldy bathrooms and replace the bed sheets with ones which were cleaner but no less threadbare. But then two men had burst into the room, brandishing small swords which they had used to cut off the vampire’s head.

They had introduced themselves as Sam and Dean Winchester as they escorted you to their Impala, allowing the two of you to settle into the soft leather of the backseat. Then they’d driven you back to their bunker, promising that you’d be safe there and that you could stay for as long as you wanted. So you had, and it had become like a second home for you in the time that you’d been there.

They’d taken good care of the two of you, and Sam and Dean had treated you like the little sister they never had. They’d even introduced you to their friend Castiel. You’d been intimidated at first, considering the fact that angels weren’t exactly a normal companion for someone to have, but he’d been very sweet to both of you, especially your sister.

“Y/N.” Cas had zapped himself into your room, causing you to jump and spill Doritos all over your bed.

“Jesus, Cas!” you exclaimed, gathering the chips back into the bag. “Haven’t you ever heard of a door.”

“I’m older than humanity. Of course I’ve heard of a door,” he answered seriously. You sighed, brushing orange cheese dust off on your worn jeans.

“It was a rhetorical question, Cas,” you explained. “Now why did you come see me, anyway?”

“I wish to ask your advice on something,” he stated. You raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

“My advice? What would I be able to help you with?”

Castiel shifted uncomfortably. “It’s about your sister.” You smirked, leaning back against your pillows. So this was it, the reason behind all the conversations and glances he shared with your sister.

“What about her?” you asked innocently.

“Uh, well, I have certain human feelings for her and I wanted to know how best to ask her on a date.”

“I knew it!” you squealed. You jumped up, throwing your arms around Cas. “Oh my god, oh my god, you’re going to be my brother!”

“What has my father got to do with anything?” Castiel asked, his brows knitted together in confusion. “And I think marriage is definitely out of the question. I barely know her.”

You sighed in exasperation. “You barely know her now. But you’ll get to know her soon!” You zoned out, your mind a mess of flowers and elaborate place cards.

“Y/N,” Castiel said, interrupting your mental planning of the bridesmaid dresses. “I still need to ask her on a date. And I don’t even know if she feels the same way about me.”

“Of course she does!” you exclaimed.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked doubtfully. You sat down on the bed, tugging on his arm to make him sit down beside you.

“Cas,” you said, looking directly into his intense blue eyes. “I’ve known my sister my whole life. Trust me, she likes you.” A shy grin made its way onto the angel’s features and his eyes lit up.

“That is very good news,” he said.

“It is,” you agreed, smiling at his obvious joy. “Okay, so if you want to ask her out, you should probably buy her flowers. Nothing fancy like roses though, just some daffodils. They’re her favourite,” you explained. “Give them to her and tell her how you feel, and then ask her to a movie. She likes rom-coms the most.”

“And you think she’ll say yes?”

“Definitely,” you assured him.

Castiel grinned and stood up. “Thank you very much for your advice, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Cas,” you told him. “Now go ask her out! I wanna start planning the wedding.”

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Don’t judge me, but I listened to High School Musical songs while writing this. But hey, they’re catchy!

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