Supernatural Preferences & Imagines

Dean Winchester Imagine

American woman, gonna mess up your mind.

It was a not-so usual day for you; see your husband off to work, clean the house, go on a grocery run, work. Yet, this daily and familiar routine, it was not quite what you expected of yourself. You mean, you wanted something more exhilarating—fun.

Not being a typical housewife.

Sighing, you watched your husbands car roll away before running up he stairs as fast as you could in those tiny heels. Damn, they hurt. You quickly changed and grabbed your car keys before heading out, leaving a note on the coffee table.

Dear Lee,

I love you, I really do. But this just isn't working. All of it. I can't be your perfect housewife, I can't be the nice cleaning lady you get to hit whenever you want. I'm sorry, I am. But I'm not at the same time. You and I both knew I couldn't stay like you wanted me to forever. And, for that, you deserve this.

Fuck you, damn you to hell.

Now, I'm long gone by the time you read this. Don't look for me. Don't call or write. In fact, don't mention me or think of me. Lee, we weren't meant to be. You weren't perfect, I wasn't perfect. We were two lost souls that just wanted a good and healthy thing in life for once. Well, we got it alright. Yet, I just don't think this routine is "healthy." Me just being silent and you doing whatever. This isn't the 1960's.

Bye, Lee. I hope you find someone that completes you—unlike I. Right now, I'm finding—searching thoroughly—for my other. After you read this, I wouldn't mind if you threw it in that sooty fireplace. Hell, I never cleaned that thing. Just where you could see it. Also, I knew you weren't happy, Lee. I've caught you cheating thrice and did nothing about it. I felt the same way. Wanting a way out.

I finally found one, and I feel better than ever. I hope you will, too. Being free is a curse and blessing—let's both hope it's a blessing.

Sincerely, with all heart,

[Y/N]

Your car hummed to a stop, the engine sputtering to silence. You grabbed a wad of bills and went inside the bar, getting stares. It was nothing you didn't expected, after all men stared at you while you were married. "Bourbon on the rie." You ordered after looking up at what they had. The bartender nodded before fixing it up and serving it to you. "5—" you handed the bill over, putting the rest in your back pocket.

Suddenly, you saw a small stage; a karaoke stage. "How much?" You asked, nodding your head to the stages direction. "3 dollars—" you handed over the ones. You took a minute to down your drink, the liquid burning down your throat. You told him for another one after you got back and went on stage, telling the DJ. Clearing your throat, you began.

"I walked forty-seven miles of barbed wire, I got a cobra snake for a necktie," you began, people already beginning to turn their attention to you. "A brand new house on the road side, and it's a-made out of rattlesnake hide." Two men walked in, the shorter one of the two stopping and nudging the other on the shoulder. "Got a brand new chimney put on top, and it's a-made outta human skull," you sang, getting into it, a smirk evident on your lips. The words appeared on a screen behind you, bolded and keeping up with you—or you keeping up with it.

Being here, at this pub at a corner street, beat being at home. It gave you adrenaline and eagerness. It was different and out of the blue. A whole new world and experience. Although you used to show up at clubs and pubs quite often, it had been years since you last been at one. You forgot how much being a bit tipsy and singing was fun. But, bring alone wasn't as much fun and amazing as doing a goofy duet.