“Now I just want you to know,” he said as he picked up his queue, “that I’m not the best at this game.” 

“I’m not so good either,” you laughed walking around the table, eying the rack on the table.

“Really?” he responded glancing at you. “Because from the looks of it, you know what you’re doing.”

“Oh,” you said waving him off. “No. This is like my third game in my life?” The lie came easy, and you twirled your hair through your fingers and leaned your head to one side trying to sell it. “I just play for fun sometimes, when my opponent is cute enough.”

Dean, or his name might have been Dan...smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but notice that his ears flushed a slight pink at your not-so-subtle flirtation. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill.

“How about we make this more interesting? A twenty to whoever wins?” 

You eyed the money, catching the twinkle in his eye as he watched you, and you nodded once. “I could do twenty,” you agreed. 

“Alright!” he said happily, slapping the money on the edge of the pool table and he pointed at you as he walked towards the opposite side of the table. “Ladies first.” 

------------

[x]

And suddenly, as if you had spoken your thoughts aloud, there he was standing on the sidewalk across the street from you; appearing as if out of nowhere.

Your jaw dropped as you stared at him, hardly able to let yourself believe it was really him, Dean. He looked across at you warmly, and gave you a small nod as if to confirm to the voices in your head that you weren’t seeing things. 

A grin spread across your face, and you took a quick glance down the street before taking off, running the short distance towards him. 

You didn’t see the pot hole, however, as you raced along the pavement, and your foot caught in it twisting your ankle and bringing you face down with a hard and embarrassing ‘oomph’.

All you could hear as tears uncontrollably welled to your eyes was a deep, soft, chuckling, and you quickly wiped your face with your sleeve as you righted yourself, only to see Dean with his shoulders shaking and smiling the biggest smile you had ever seen. 

------------

[x]

“...said she didn’t suffer.”

Sam’s consoling words faded away, and Dean was standing suddenly in a vortex of nothingness--no words, no sounds, only the sinking feeling that had suddenly exploded in his chest from Sam’s news; a bomb that had detonated on top of his heart heavy and blazing, and the last time he had seen you, just yesterday, suddenly replaying itself over and over in his mind.  

----------

[x]

“Okay,” Dean bit, shifting on his feet as he talked to you. “So this is really what you want, huh?”

Your throat was tight as you looked up at him, and you chewed hard on the inside of your cheek--the place where you had been chewing for the past hour and a half now gnawed raw; the sharp iron taste of blood coating your tongue. 

“It is,” you said thickly. “At least, I think it’s what I need--what we need.”

Dean’s eyes dropped from yours and to the ground, and he shifted his weight to his other foot.

“We need, huh?”

“Dean we’ve--”

“No, I know,” Dean said, nodding. “I know.”

------------

[x]

You came down the hall slowly, brushing the bangs of the black wig you were wearing out of your face. You were careful not to brush your fingers over your eyelids, which were now covered in dark black liquid eyeshadow. 

Dean turned as you came into the bunkers library and his eyebrows knit; his head slowly tilting as he took in everything you were wearing. His eyes widened as his eyes swept from your feet to your face, back to your feet again. 

“Well?” you said, watching him as he looked at you adorned all in black. Your belt, the only thing that wasn’t black, was a string of tarnished metal skulls, and it hung loosely around your waist. 

“I, uh...” Dean smoothed his hand down his face, hiding a smile that had grown unexpectedly. “You look...” 

“Pick a word, Dean. Any word.” 

Dean’s hand left his face, and his smile was big on his face. He shook his head. 

“Scary,” he said finally, laughing. “But it suits you.”

-----------

[x]

“Wait,” you said slowly, looking at Dean, “really?”

Dean nodded, confirming himself and his sea-glass eyes met yours again; serious and intent.

“Really,” he said.

[x]

You stood back from them, watching the sparkling colors burst, silhouetting the brothers and glittering in the sky. They fell in sparks, extinguishing before they reached the ground, and as you stood there watching your best friends, your family, you couldn’t help thinking that this was perfect; and that no matter how bad things got, you would always have tonight.

------------

[x]

“It looks like a nice motel room though,” you said squinting behind Dean at the glass lamp on the ceiling and the white (white!) carpet behind him.

“I guess,” Dean replied. 

He turned his head and smiled and you heard the door creak open as Sam came into the room. Dean’s eyes followed his brother from the entryway to the middle of the room. His face had sobered and his grin vanished as Sam said something you could barely make out.

“What?” Dean’s gaze was intent on Sam now, listening to him as he spoke low and serious. You watched him nod at his brother and you knew that your time with him was up.

Dean looked back to you and stood, holding his phone closer to his face.  “I guess I gotta go,” he told you. 

“Sounds like it.”

“Alright. Well,” Dean glanced down as if a message had just appeared on his phone, “I’ll see you when we gank this mother.” 

“Be safe,” you said.

“Always am.”

Your smile was frozen on screen as he hung up the video chat, and Dean watched it as your face faded away into a blank screen again before he uttered, quietly, the words he was too afraid to say with you listening. 

----------

[x]

He wasn’t suppose to be in here, in your room let alone on your computer. He had left all the lights off but the one that hung over the glass-topped desk, it’s orange glow surrounding him as he typed. It had taken him four tries to figure out your password. 

Now he bent over the computer screen with his eyes wide and brow furrowed, so immersed in this alien version of you that glared through the words on the screen that he did not hear the front door open, or your footsteps come down the hallway and stop cautiously just outside the door.

It opened with a start, and you were silhouetted in the door frame. 

“Dean?” Your voice was surprised and Dean looked up to meet your eyes as you came into the room towards him. “What the hell--” your mouth had been dropped open as you entered, but it snapped shut; surprise replaced by fear when you realized what he had been reading. 

“So,” Dean began. He leaned back in your swivel chair, his hands folded on the laptop in front of him and stared knowingly at you. “Were you ever gonna tell me about this?” 

[x]

Fight-Part 2

Title: Fight-Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,569

Song Inspiration: Fight Song-Rachel Platten

A/N: This is part 2 to the Fight Series. Read part 1 first!

Part 1

[x]

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

------------------------

You could taste the irony tang of blood in your mouth, feel it gliding slick and sticky down the front of your skull and over your eyebrows; its path unstopped as it slowly slithered past your lips and down your chin.

It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that you were both bound and gagged, like a pig on it’s way to slaughter, in the black lightless trunk of a moving car.

It, the car, sped down the road it was traveling, every exiguous jut in the road jolting you carelessly from floor to ceiling. The rope that bound your limbs together was thick and twisted; unbreakable and it splintered into the soft skin around your wrists as you tried to wrench yourself free of them.

Sweat had broken out all over your body, making a damp spot in the middle of your back, the polo shirt clinging to it like a moth on flypaper and you were breathing hard through your nose, the panicked sound throbbing in your ears alongside your wild heartbeat.

Oh. My. God. I LOVE the imagine Fight! Omfg it’s so good. I need more!!!!!!!

Yay!! So glad you liked it! Thank you so much!! Part Two is coming soon!! 

Read Fight Part 1 here!

Write On Me

Title: Write On Me

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 2,659

Song Inspiration: Write On Me-Fifth Harmony

Anonymous Request:Could you do one with Sam where you two have a special gift (t was a tumblr post AU at some point) where what ever you write on your skin shows on his and vise versa and you've been "pen pals" your whole lives but never met until one day you do?

A/N: I am falling in love with AU’s, homeboys! I just love ‘em! Also, a little tiny bit of my HP obsession crept into this one...I'm not apologizing.

See the imagine that tells the before story, here! p.s. See an extended version of this imagine here!

[x]

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

------------------------ The familiar itchy prickling feeling roused you from your bloody zombie filled dream. You sighed, turned onto your back, and flung your arms over your head to rest lightly up against your pillow.

It was early, before your alarm early; the light coming in through your shaded window still pale blue through your closed eyelids. You felt the itchy prickling feeling on the inside of your arm again, small pin pricks; like you had run your arm through a patch of long dried grass that you were allergic to.

You ran your fingers along the place where they would appear, smiling and thinking about, as your skin raised and curved in the familiar scrawl, how much like the Dark Mark it was, and maybe you were actually an evil wizard belonging not in the extra long twin bed you lay in five small steps from a snoring stranger, but to a magical school where good battled the dark.

Like it was bringing you to life, you blinked your eyes open now, drinking in the cool easiness of the morning. Birds chirped and tweeted outside, and the quiet snores from Lucy in the next bed told you she was still fast asleep.

You sat up, back resting against the headboard and looked down at your arm.

Fight-Part 1

Title: Fight-Part 1

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,656

Song Inspiration: Fight Song-Rachel Platten

Request from sonja02521: Could you do one based off of the song “Fight Song’?

A/N: Bet you didn’t think your request would be a series, did ya? I’m sorry it’s taken me forever to get this written. I hope you like it! Welcome to part 1!

[x]

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

------------

The hair that hung over your face was like an invisible spider web, and you brushed your hands over it trying to rid yourself from it just as the bell over the door chimed again. The fingerprinted glass swung open and shut as you focused on brushing your hair behind your ears, and finally, when you had found the little invisible culprit, you blew it out of your hand and onto the floor.

You sighed, frustrated, as you looked towards the threshold from where you stood behind the grimy counter. It was bad enough that you had to be here, in this drug store, pretending that you were indeed not a hunter of supernatural beings, but an actual dim-witted Walgreens employee; but the amount of people that were there today was getting a little ridiculous.

A child, hardly tall enough to see over the counter approached you and handed you a candy bar, his big glassy eyes looking up at you as you scanned it and gave it back to him. “That’ll be three twenty eight,” you said, rather robotic. After a minute of rustling in his pockets, the small boy rose to his tiptoes to hand you the money using cupped hands. It was all in change.

“Great,” you muttered. You pushed the button to open the cash drawer, it shot out immediately with a clang, and started sorting the coins, counting in your head to make sure that he had given you the correct amount.