Supernatural Preferences and Imagines

A Bar Scene- Young!John

You had escaped from your family. And hunting. That life... it just wasn't for you.

You wanted to make a living for yourself. You wanted to find happiness. You wanted to leave the horrors of your past behind you.

Of course, that was unrealistic. Your dreams were nightmares: werewolves, vampires, ghosts, and demons finding ways to torture your mind even when you were far away from them. But you made due.

You decided to become an author. One day you brought out a journal and a pen and went to work. Soon your pages were filled with stories of hunts and illustrations of monsters. It wasn't leaving your past behind you but it helped you make peace with it.

Eventually, you were published. You weren't the most popular novelist— but your stories enraptured your audience. Your works were described as, "chilling page-turners that leave the readers wanting more!" Yet they were merely ghost stories.

Your publishers 'wanted more.'

Backstories, intricate plots, just... more. Or they wouldn't publish your stories anymore.

Naturally, you went to the bar. Maybe you would get some inspiration while drunk.

You downed a shot and flipped open one of your journals.

"Bad day at work?" someone asked you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man sit down next to you. He ordered a beer.

You sighed. "More or less."

You turned to him— surprised to see that he wasn't that bad looking. He was quite good looking, actually. Young. About your age. Definitely tall, dark, and handsome. "The name's John Winchester," he said.

"Y/f/n," you responded. He nodded and took a sip of his beer.

"So, what's the problem?"

You scoffed. "I'm not going to spill anything to a stranger I just met at a bar of all places."

"I've already got your name." John shrugged. "You've spilled something."

You frowned. He continued, "I was only asking because it looked like you needed some help. I was willing to offer it..."

"Fine," you responded. "My publishers say my books need new content."

"What do you write about?"

"Ghosts, mainly."

"Hmm... Ponder this: a story that starts with two strangers meeting at a bar. Just like us. They get drunk, make to go home together-"

"-Are you implying something?"

"-Let me finish." John smiled. It was playful but his eyes indicated he was down to business. You motioned for him to continue. "But they see a woman standing by the side of the road. She is wearing white rags and has dark hair. Since they're nice people, or maybe just too drunk, they pull over and give her a ride home. However, the home is haunted and they can't escape."

"What's their backstory?"

"The man is a war veteran who drinks to forget. The lady is a girl with a troubled past."

"And how will the plot be any different? How will the readers find it interesting?"

"Easy," he said slyly, with a matter-of fact tone. "It starts with a bar scene."

You scoffed. "Every story has a bar scene-"

"Romeo and Juliet?" he asked. "Does it have a bar scene?"

"A party technically..."

John shifted so that he was facing you. He took another sip of beer. "You think too much."

"You talk too much."

"Ah... but I am helping you aren't I? What is the one thing all of your stories don't have?"

"A decent plot line, apparently," you muttered. He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know! Romance, maybe?"

"Make the main characters fall in love."

"I've never been in love. How could I write it?"

John is silent. The bartender pours you another shot. You down it.

"Maybe I would be willing to help you out again," said John. "Let's meet somewhere— a cafe, perhaps? I'm free Saturday at thirteen hundred hours sharp if you would like to meet me at the cafe on 15th."

"Is this a date?" you asked.

"Perhaps it is," he responded. John paid for his drink, then wrote down a number on the receipt. "Give me a ring whenever."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me. I'm just doing this so I can get some free books out of you— signed, preferably." He winks.

Against your will, you blush. "I guess I'll give them to you on Saturday."

"Saturday it is, then."