Supernatural Imagines & Preferences ^Completed^

Passion Dies (Dean×Reader)

Plot: You and Dean are always fighting and you've had enough of it.

Part 1

You and Dean were fighting alot lately and it was destroying your relationship. Dean would get home, see something he that he could make a fuss about, then start yelling. You hated when Dean yelled because it made you cry, causing him to yell more. Every fight ended with him sleeping in the Impala. Sam always tried to comfort you, but it never helped.

"Why am I always the problem? Sam, it's my fault isn't it? I did something I have no clue I did and he's pissed. Dean probably wants me go-" Sam cut you off.

"(Y/N), he doesn't want you dead or gone. You didn't do anything wrong, either. He's stressed and he doesn't know what to do. I know he shouldn't be taking it out on you. Dean can be rude, (Y/N). You just have to learn to live with the moodiness," Sam explained as he held your shaking frame. Tears rolled down your face. Dean should be holding me while I cry, not Sam. You understood him though. You knew Dean was moody and an all around dick when he was stressed.

Dean's POV

God, I'm such a jerk. She doesn't deserve to be yelled at. She doesn't do anything wrong. She has never done anything wrong. I need to go apologize, but I couldn't. Wait, what if she's packing her things? What if she's about to leave? I jumped out of the car, locking the doors behind me. I ran inside, seeing Sam rubbing (Y/N)'s back with her cuddled into his side.

"What the fuck?!" I stomped over and ripped (Y/N) off of Sam. She struggled against my grip. "What the hell is going on here?!"

"Sam's comforting me because you're an asshole," she said sniffling. I let go of her arm, watching as she ran to our room with more tears forming in her already streaked face.

Your POV

You grabbed your duffel bag off the floor, opening the dresser drawers. You started randomly grabbing at your shirts and stuffing them deep down in the bag, making sure to leave room for everything else. Once all of your shirts were stuffed away, you reached for the pants that were housed in the next drawer. Suddenly, your hand was grabbed away from it. Sniffling, you looked up to see Dean's face inches from mine.

"(Y/N), don't do this. Please. I-I need you. I'll fix it...I'll fix everything," Dean whispered wiping away tears from his eyes. You ignored him, ripping his hand off out of yours. You continued to pack your belongings. You could feel Dean watching, his hand continually going after yours. You managed to pack everything, walking out of the room in silence.

"Babe. Babe! Please don't do this! I told you I'd fix it." Dean latched his large hand around your tiny wrist. You shook your head.

"You always say that and you never fix it. It's never fucking fixed," you screamed in his face as you walked to the library to retrieve your phone. You smiled sadly at Sam, who looked like a lost puppy. Dean was following closely behind you until you walked out the bunker door, slamming it in his face. Your Harley was parked directly next to the Impala, so you took that opportunity to pull out your pocket knife and quickly slashed all four tires. You sighed, jumping onto your Harley. Good luck finding me.
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