Safe

Summary: “Imagine having a nightmare and Dean holding you until you fall back asleep.”

Note: [You know that thing artists do, where they re-make a piece of art? I decided to do something like that but with rewriting one of my old one shots. From seven years ago. Yikes.]

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Dean Winchester/Reader Word Count: 250

I bolt upright in bed, adrenaline pumping through me. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it, can feel its beat throughout my whole body.

Just a nightmare, I tell myself. Just a nightmare.

But though the dream was fake, the memory is real. And the fear, the fear is definitely real.

“Sweetheart?” I feel a hand brush across my lower back and jump. “Woah, sweetie. It’s okay.”

[885-word one shot written for this anonymous request: reader comforts Dean after he has a nightmare and they both end up confessing their feelings for each other.]

A sharp gasp pulls you out of your sleep and snaps your eyes open. You lie still in your bed for a moment, wondering where it came from. For a moment you forget where you are, pondering which family member caused the sound, before you remember you’re in the bunker. Tucked safely away underground, two hunters with a lifetime of experience just across the hallway from you.

[900-word one shot written for this request. Sorry if it's really awful, I haven't written in a while and I don't know anything about weddings but I tried!]

You take a deep breath, holding onto your father’s arm, and look at the scene before you. There’s row upon row of benches filled with some of the most important people in the world - not only to you, but literally the most important, mostly due to the fact that a few of them actively participated in the Apocalypse. There are a lot of angels, but also hunters, a couple of demons, and then your side of the family: all humans, and all slightly weirded out by the eerily well-behaved crowd across the aisle.

[685-word one shot written for this request by anonymous. Fits with, but was not inspired by, this imagine. Dean goes with the reader to the ultrasound for his and her child. Complete fluff, so no, it shouldn't make you cry in case you were wondering.]

There wasn’t a lot that really excited Dean. His car. Bacon and cheeseburgers. Pie. Good music. Geeky things like old weaponry or super heroes.

That was about the extent of it.

Until you told him you were pregnant, at least.

[A 1406-word one shot written for this request by deannaj0. A one shot where Sam introduces the reader to his friend Brady so she can have a date for a party.]

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sam asks, sliding into the seat next to you in the lecture hall of your United States Constitutional Law in the Twenty-First Century class. You’re looking really despondent, your chin resting on your hand as you stare aimlessly towards the front of the room, dread written on every feature of your face.

[661-word one shot written for a request by team-free-will05. Your best friend Dean finds out your boyfriend was cheating on you and tells you that you deserve better, and ends up confessing he loves you.]

There’s a knock on your bedroom door and you glance up.

“Go away,” you say, your voice trembling from crying. You know you look awful, your mascara running down your face, your eyes red and puffy, your nose running. Quite frankly, you don’t want anyone seeing you looking this way.

Still, the door opens a crack. “Y/N.” It’s Dean, your best friend. “Just talk to me.”

[1,233-word one shot of fluff written for a request. Reader and Adam have been in a secret relationship but he keeps trying to steal kisses, hugs, etc, and it almost blows your cover.]

“Adam, stop it,” you hiss as Adam tries to slip his hand into yours, pulling your hand away from his reach.

“Why?” he whispers back, giving you his doe-eyes. “Don’t you like holding hands?”

[1,723-word one shot written for an anonymous request. Dean is really overprotective of his daughter, and when Crowley finds out, he uses her as bait.]

“You’re going to stay here, right?” Dean asks you for the millionth time, buttoning up his black jacket and straightening his tie.

“Yes, Dad, oh my god,” you say, rolling your eyes. You’re on your stomach on your bed, flipping through a magazine as your father gets ready for a hunt.

“Hey,” Dean says, throwing you a dirty look. “Don’t call me Dad. You know it makes me feel old.”

“You are old,” you say absently, flipping the page.

[674-word one shot written for an anonymous request. It's Valentine's Day and it appears that Sherlock has forgotten. Also because it’s Valentine’s Day. Just some Sherlock fluff for you all ♥ sorry again for posting so little lately. A bit out of order, but I wanted it to fit for the holiday!]

“Hey, Sherlock,” you say, standing in the doorway of your and his flat, holding a bouquet of pink and red roses behind your back. You knew he’d be too clueless for this sort of thing, so you’d taken it upon yourself to make the day romantic.

He’s sitting in his armchair on the other side of the room in his pajamas and blue bathrobe, thinking something over, but he glances up at you and smiles when he sees you come in.

“Do you know what today is?” you ask him, taking a few steps into the room.

He squints at you unsurely. “The fourteenth of February?”

[2,777-word one shot based off of this imagine from this blog, also for an anonymous request. "Imagine the reader's mom happens to die so they have to stay with the father, Dean, and Uncle Sammy, and her being skeptical at first but then to calm nerves theres a hunting gig that turns into a bonding moment." Disclaimer - I don't know how the transfer of guardianship works so I just sort of made it up as I went along, I apologize if I messed anything up. x ]

“Your mother said in her will that if she passed, your father should be contacted so you can stay with him,” the lawyer told you.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t want to stay with the father you had never met before in your life. You wanted to live with your mom.

But that wasn’t possible anymore. Not when she was dead.

You kind of tuned out the lawyer as he told you what was happening, the arrangements that had been made, how soon you would be meeting the father that had never before been present.

The lawyer finishes and says, “Do you have any questions?”

[547-word one shot written for an anonymous request. The awful title sounds like a kid’s book but the fic is pure fluff, I assure you.]

You’re sitting on the couch at 221B Baker Street reading your favorite book when you start to hear a hissing sound coming from the kitchen.

“Sherlock?” you call. “What are you doing?”

Find Part 1 here. [A/N: Technically the first part was supposed to be a one shot but by popular demand here is part 2. It takes place during the four years after Dean has gone to hell and there is a happy ending.]

You gently rock the baby cradled in your arms, humming Hey Jude to her. The tone is shaky because you’re trying your hardest not to cry. Hey Jude was the song Dean’s mother sang to him when he was younger.

Dean. Just the small accidental thought of him overwhelms you in a flurry of emotion and you have to sit down on the edge as your body is racked with sobs.

Dean is gone. He’s dead. Forever.

It’s worse knowing that he’s in hell.

A Deadly Exchange Part 1

[1166-word one shot (kinda long) based on this imagine from this blog. "Imagine Dean finding out you're pregnant after he sells his soul to save you."]

Ring. Ring. Ring. “Hello. This is Dean Winchester. Please leave a message—” you set the phone back in its cradle on the motel room’s nightstand. Why isn’t Dean answering? That was your third call. He has to pick up, you need him to pick up.

You grab the phone again after a few seconds and dial his number one more time.

Ring. Ring. Ri— “Hello? (Y/N)?” It’s Dean, his voice low and gruff. You can hear a sort of humming in the background that you recognize as the sound of the Impala on the road. “Is something wrong?”

Is something wrong. Well. That would be a matter of opinion, wouldn’t it? you think to yourself sarcastically as you stare at the pregnancy test in your hand.

[602-word one shot based off of this imagine from this blog, because anon requested Sherlock one shots. "Imagine making Sherlock food after realizing he hasn't eaten due to a case and him asking why you care." Credit for the poster edit is here.] 

Sherlock has been in his mind palace for twenty-four hours. You haven’t given him too much thought. He does this sometimes. Disappears from the world for long periods of time without even stopping to take care of himself.

No time to take care of himself... it dawns on you that he probably hasn’t eaten for the day that he’s been working on figuring out the case. He probably hasn’t even noticed that he hasn’t eaten.

You don’t want him to die of accidental starvation, so you go to the fridge to find something for him to eat.

[579-word one shot written for an anonymous request. Anon asked for a fic where Kevin makes fun of Sam and reader for kissing in the bunker and then Dean comes in and teases them too.]

It’s not really a secret that you and Sam are together. Dean knows. Cas knows. Kevin knows. Of course, all of you are living under the same roof, which would make it a bit more difficult to keep it a secret if you wanted to anyway.

Still, you didn’t do a lot of PDAs. Public, in this case, meaning anywhere in the bunker but your bedroom. But today the two of you were alone in the library, researching for a case, and you just couldn’t concentrate when Sam was sitting across the table from you, looking so damn attractive.

One thing had led to another and then Kevin walks in on the two of you wrapped around each other, making out.

[685-word one shot written for an anonymous request. Anon asked for a fluffy Gabriel fic. Disclaimer: I speak not a word of Spanish, I got all the Spanish in this fic from a translator so I apologize if it's not correct. x ]

"Dooooweeeeeooooooooh," you sing, doing your best to imitate the Doctor Who theme as you rinse the rest of the soap suds out of your hair underneath the steady stream of water from the shower head. “Doooooweeee-”

The door to the bathroom opens and you freeze, your heart rate sky rocketing, before realizing you don’t have roommates, plural, anymore, just one.

"You okay? It sounded like there was an animal dying in here or something." It's the familiar voice of Gabriel.