Dean Fanfic - Tumblr Posts

I'm here for you.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 825

Warnings: Spoilers for season five, feels.

A/N: Hope y’all like it~ 

It was in that moment, that heart-shattering moment, in which you saw every last bit of Dean’s reserve crumble to dust as Sam, possessed by Lucifer, made his exit. Dean put his hands to his head in complete and utter despair, and in that one moment you saw a person you had never seen before. All of the hunter’s tough layers had peeled off and for the first time, you saw how much of a mess he actually was, how much pain he had had to endure in his life and how he had never allowed all that pain to exit his body. It was like seeing the tallest building crumble, a proud ruler kneel, an empire fall. And without a second thought, you rushed to his side to help him. You knew you were but the tiniest rock trying to hold back a flood, but you were all Dean needed in that moment. You put your arms gently around him, pulling him closer and gently stroking his back.

“Sam’s gonna be okay, Dean. He’s strong enough to pull through, he’s strong enough to take control over Lucifer and get this over and done with. I… I know he’s not coming back if he succeeds, but he will be remembered as the greatest hunter of all time. The smartest, the best,” you whispered, and he didn’t reply, but he hugged you closer to him, embracing you tightly. His breathing was uneven, and the tears were still flowing freely from his eyes, but he remained silent, and you took that as a silent invitation to go on with your consoling speech.

“And you’ll have his memory always with you,” you pulled away from his hug slightly to place your hand over the left side of his chest, where you could feel his heart flutter under his shirt.

“Right there,” you smiled up at him, a tad shyly, and while he did not smile back, he nodded.

“That still won’t be good enough. Sammy can’t be replaced by some memory, no matter how good that memory is,” he said, his voice deeper than usual from crying. He chewed on that plump lower lip of his unconsciously, and you couldn’t help but find your gaze drawn to the movement of his lips. Before you did anything rash, you shook your head ever so slightly to clear it, and then you took a deep breath to continue talking.

“I know a memory will never be adequate. I know nothing could ever be as good as Sam was; nothing could ever fill that hole inside you, but… for what it’s worth, I’ll always be here for you. Promise.” Pain flashed through his eyes for a millisecond. A new kind of pain, not the soul-wrecking one he’d been feeling up to that moment.

“How do you know that? How can you know that you’ll be here? You can’t promise things you know aren’t up to you. Sam was here for me yesterday, but now he isn’t.  Now, Satan’s wearing him as a meat suit and I am losing him. I have already lost him,” Dean managed to choke out between sobs, and a new wave of tears flowed out of his eyes. He grit his teeth as he shut his eyes tightly.

“I want this to end,” he whispered so silently you barely heard him, but that one simple phrase of his held so much meaning that the very force of his words caused you to shiver.

“Dean…” you murmured his name softly, and when he didn’t look at you, you repeated his name, slightly more forcefully this time.

“What is it?” he asked cracking his still teary eyes open, and you offered him the tiniest of encouraging smiles.

“I can’t promise you that I’ll always be here, but I can promise you I’ll try my best to be here for you for as long as I can,” you said, and his brilliant green eyes flickered with the tiniest spark of hope.

“Thank you,” he muttered, because he knew that when you gave your word you tried your damnedest to keep it. Your small smile grew into a grin, and you couldn’t help but notice his eyes travel down to your mouth. When your lips met Dean’s, it felt like a train wreck and a lullaby all at once. It was almost overwhelming. His kiss was forceful, needy, but there was an undertone of tenderness to the way his tongue explored your mouth and his teeth nipped on your lower lip. This was the first kiss you’d shared, and odds were it’d be the last, but the caress of Dean’s lips on yours felt comforting and wonderful, and you didn’t care that he was kissing you mostly because he needed an outlet for all of his pent-up emotions. Your heart beat for him, and you had given him your word. You’d be there for him no matter what ne needed.

Please, kill me.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 864

Warnings: Feels, spoilers for season ten, cursing

Summary: Dean asks something of Y/N, something she’s not sure she can do...

A/N: Hope you like it!

“Y/n,” Dean called out to you, voice surprisingly steady, as if he was struggling to keep it that way.

“I have something to tell you,” he said when you had made your way to him, sitting down on a chair next to him.

“Go on,” you said with a small smile, your gentle voice softly urging him on. You had realised the severity of the situation because of the look in his green eyes. You had never seen him like this, and it took you a bit by surprise. He was frowning, and his whole face had a clouded expression of thoughtfulness, but his eyes were practically talking to you. They were full of despair, and full of something else, too; something you couldn’t quite place, but it was there and the hurt it radiated was almost palpable.

You reached out and gently squeezed one of his hands, trying to reassure him.

Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if composing himself. For a second, you were cut off from the torrent of emotions pouring out of his eyes, and this time when he opened them again, you were prepared.

“I...” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I want to tell you something. It’s... something very important.” He took one last deep breath before finally saying what he had wanted to tell you from the start.

“If... if anything happens to me; if I ever become the same murderous son of a bitch I was when I had the Mark... I... want you to do something for me,” he said, fixing you with a steady gaze. “In the line of work we’re in, you know that it’s entirely possible for the same thing to happen to me again. I don’t want that. I don’t want you and Sam and Cas to see me go through all that again. It’s not fair for you; it’s not fair for me; and most of all it’s not fair for the people I would mercilessly kill and their families.” Here, he paused to regain his bearings, and he tiredly rubbed his eyes with his free hand, the one you weren’t holding.

You were almost unable to breathe. You had the slightest idea of what he wanted you to do for him, and you were hoping he’d say something else, something less serious.

“I want you to kill me,” he stated, and that six-word sentence seemed to be your whole world in that moment. Like a mantra, it played again and again in your head. You were clutching Dean’s hand so tightly that you felt the hunter tense.

“I... I can’t... I could never do what you’re asking of me... Ask Sam...” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“You’re the only one I trust to do this. I know Sam. He’d never kill me, not if I begged him. You... you have to. For your own good. Please.” Dean was desperate now. He had been expecting a negative reaction, but he was determined to get his way.

When you expressed your disagreement again, he sighed, but didn’t give up.

“Please,” he repeated. “It has to happen that way. Not only for you and Sam and Cas, but for myself too. I won’t ever be a normal person again; I can’t take it anymore. So... if it ever comes to that... Kill me,” he said.

This time, you nodded. “Okay.” Your voice was small, hesitant, but it was all Dean had at the moment. And it was enough

“Thank you,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah... you’re welcome,” you whispered, smiling softly. You didn’t really want to smile, but it was either that or bursting into tears, so you decided that the first option was better.

“This means so friggin’ much to me, thanks,” he said, and you could only nod in reply.

You bit hard on your lower lip, and you felt a tear escape your eyes. Dean leaned forward and wiped it away with his thumb.

“Hey... hey, I’m sorry... but I had to say it. I needed to make sure that the world would be safe from me if anything happened again,” he said, and you leaned into his touch.

“Yes... I know. But that won’t stop me from being upset over it,” you murmured.

“But you will do it. If it’s the only option left, you will,” he said, almost as if trying to reassure himself.

“Yes,” you whispered, feeling another tear trickle down your cheek.

Instead of replying, Dean leaned forward to press his lips against yours. At first, it wasn’t much of a kiss; it was more of two pairs of lips touching each other. But then he opened his mouth, and you opened yours, and it was a heated tangle of tongues and limbs as you tried to come impossibly close to one another. When you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily and you had somehow straddled him in the passionate haze of the kiss.

“I said I will do it, but Dean, I don’t want to. I never want to get the chance to.”

Again, he didn’t reply. He just pulled you into another whirlwind of a kiss.

Weapons down

Pairing: Sam x reader or Dean x reader

Word Count: Sam: 972 Dean: 1092

Warnings: Feels and cursing for the Sam one.

A/N: This story has five lines of common beginning, and then it branches off depending on whether you prefer Sam or Dean. Just thought I’d try it out. Enjoy!

 “Weapons down, or I’m gonna shoot you to oblivion!” you yelled at the two men whose silhouettes were outlined in the doorway of the warehouse.

They put their weapons down only because of sheer surprise, and while they looked around to pinpoint the source of the voice that startled them, you had the time to study them.

 Sam

You made your way to them, frowning. “Who are you?” you asked, making sure that your gun was trained on the taller one of the two.

“We’re FBI agents and-” started the shorter and apparently older one, but he was cut off by the other.

“We’re not FBI agents,” he stated and, perplexed, you frowned.

“I’m confused. Are you with the FBI or not?” you asked.

“We aren’t,” said the taller one at the same time the shorter one said “We are.”

“Wow, that’s a really enlightening thing to say,” you commented. “Care to explain?”

“We aren’t with the FBI,” said the taller one and, this time, the other agreed with a nod.

“Then who are you? And what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother Dean, and we’re here because we’ve been informed that some very dangerous people live in this warehouse. We’re here to prevent them from causing any harm,” he explained, and immediately you felt like you were a five-year-old being patronised by an annoying adult.

“The name’s Y/n. And what do you think I’ve been doing here? A party? I’ve been dealing with the vampires,” you said, and you smiled proudly at them.

“Are you sure you’ve dealt with them properly?” asked Dean.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course. I’ve beheaded them and then buried them so that nobody will ever come across the bodies. I’ve been here since yesterday, and I need some rest,” you said, walking past them and into the sunlight.

“You don’t have a car,” Sam called out from behind you. “There was no car outside the warehouse when we got here. So how did you make it here?” he asked.

“I walked. I crashed my car a week or so ago and I haven’t had the time to replace it. It’s waiting for me in a yard somewhere in Colorado,” you explained with a shrug. To tell the truth, your opinion on that matter was anything but nonchalant, as your car had been the only place you had ever called home, but being pessimistic just wouldn’t do. Instead, you had decided to use the public transport to make your way to Wyoming to deal with the vampire nest, because hunting would always be your priority.

“That’s unfortunate. Well, you can come with us. We’re heading to the nearest town,” Sam offered, completely missing his brother’s glare.

“Really? Thank you. I’ve got a motel room there, so I can rest before heading to Colorado to retrieve my car and all my hunting stuff,” you said with a grin, only then realising that this was the first mention of anything hunting-related between you and the Winchesters. You had just both automatically assumed that the other was a hunter.

That was certainly not the last time though. Over the years, you started hunting together. At first it was just a call here and there or a chance meeting when you accidentally took on the same cases, but as the months went by you grew closer. You even started living in the bunker with them when you weren’t joining them on cases.

Hunting with them had been the best time you had ever had in your whole life.

But all good things must end, and your time with the Winchesters was no different.

It was on a sunny but chilly day in mid-March that was entirely inconspicuous and normal that this good thing in your life ended.

“We’re back!” you heard Sam and Dean announce when they entered the bunker. They both seemed rather excited for the hunt to be over, and it pained your heart to see the smile wiped off their faces when they saw you.

You were standing near the entrance, clutching a suitcase in one hand and your car keys in the other. There was a vacant, sad, look in your eyes as you nodded at them.

“Hey,” you muttered sadly.

“What’s wrong?” Dean was the one to ask but Sam was the one to rush up to you and pull you into a hug. You let the suitcase drop and hugged him back tightly, fighting to keep back tears.

“I’m leaving,” you announced in a small voice.

“Leaving... what?” Sam asked.

“Leaving the bunker. Leaving the hunter life. I can’t do this anymore. I’m physically and mentally exhausted. I just want to see the world,” you muttered, casting your gaze down on the ground.

“No. You can’t leave,” Sam said, voice almost shrill in a note of panic.

“It’s... it’s not temporary. It’s just a break. For a couple of years, I’ve decided I want to travel and see everything the planet has to offer before returning,” you said, leaving the probably out of the conversation. You weren’t sure you ever would return. Part of you hoped so, while another just wanted to leave and never come back.

Sam, probably realising that no matter what he said he could never stop you from leaving, only hugged you tighter.

“Do you promise you’ll come back?” he asked.

“I do,” you said, and now that you had given your word you probably would.

“I love you,” Sam whispered in a broken voice. “Don’t leave,” he murmured hopelessly.

Unable to listen to him anymore, you pulled away slightly from his hug and pulled him into a kiss. You touched your lips to his hesitantly at first but with increasingly more passion until you both had to pull away for need of air.

“I love you too. But I have to go. I’ll be back,” without further ado, you nodded at Dean, reached down to grab your suitcase and left, paying no heed to the tears rolling down your cheeks.

You turned to look at the bunker one last time.

“Goodbye, Sam Winchester. And may we meet again.”

 Dean

One was tall, with long hair, but it was the other who caught your attention. Shorter than the other man but still tall, something about his posture and the way he carried himself drew you in. So when you stepped out into the meagre light the rays of the sun peeking in through the door offered, you addressed him.

“Who are you and what do you want here?” you asked him, and he frowned as his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the room.

“I’m Agent Bickler and this is my partner Agent Sullivan. We’re with the FBI,” he said, making eye contact with you. Never tearing his gaze away from yours, he took a badge out of his pocket and let it drop to the ground. He kicked it towards you and you kneeled to pick it up, eyes and gun firmly fixed on the man who had told you was an FBI agent.

“I don’t think so. These badges aren’t real, and even if they were, what would an FBI agent be doing out here, in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere?” you asked, raising a challenging eyebrow at the light-brown-haired man.

He rolled his eyes and was about to reply when the other man talked, drawing your attention.

“You’re right. We’re not FBI agents. We’re here because some very dangerous people are in this warehouse and we want to make sure nobody innocent will get hurt. So could you please leave? It’d be much better for all of us if you didn’t get killed in the process,” he said, and for a second you contemplated pretending not to understand, pretending to be a civilian.

You decided against that though, as it would only offer confusion and maybe these two hunters -they were obviously hunters, you thought- would be so desperate as to use force to extract you from the warehouse that had been a vampire nest before you had dealt with it.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you two are hunters. That is quite obvious from you pretending to be FBI. And you must be here for the vampires,” you said, and saw realisation dawn in both their faces as they figured out the fact that you were a hunter too.

“Well... I’ve taken care of that problem; don’t worry. All the vampires are dead and buried,” you told them with a bright smile, finally lowering and holstering your gun.

“You’re a hunter?” asked the one you had been talking to in the beginning. His question was more of a statement, you realised as your gazes met again, though he obviously doubted your abilities.

“Yes, I am. I’ve been a hunter for the biggest part of my life, so there’s no need for you to check to see if the vampires are truly dead and gone. But if you want to waste precious minutes of your time, go ahead and be my guest,” you said.

“That won’t be necessary. We believe you,” said the taller one.

“I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean,” he introduced.

“Wait... Sam and Dean Winchester?” you asked with a frown. “I’m Y/n L/n. I’m, as I said, a hunter. My grandfather taught me everything I know about hunting, and he was the strictest of teachers. He never said the same thing more than once. The only thing he had ever repeated was this ‘Don’t trust the Winchesters.’ Why should I trust you?” you crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at the two men standing in front of you.

“Because we’re hunters. And hunters stick together. We’re each other’s best chance of staying alive,” Dean said, and you had to admit he had a point. Hunting on your own was an extremely lonely thing to do, and you craved some real interaction despite your better judgment.

“Let’s go then. I have a room at the motel just outside town,” you informed them, walking past them and into the glare of the sun outside the warehouse.

“Our room is there too,” Sam told you as they followed you.

“Great. See you there,” you said, climbing into your car and setting off towards the motel.

Little did you know then, that encounter with the Winchester brothers meant the end of your lonely hunting years and the beginning of a new phase in your life, which you loved more than anything else that had ever happened to you. Soon, you became very familiar with the brothers, but you had always felt more comfortable around Dean. You loved them both, but Sam was just a friend, while Dean... well it was different with Dean. It had always been different with Dean, but it took you some time to understand just how different things were.

“Where’s the pie, Y/n?” you heard Dean call out as soon as you entered the bunker’s kitchen.

“Right here, Dean. How could I ever forget the pie?” you asked, handing him his pie. He looked pointedly at Sam after what you said and accepted the pie.

“Thank you,” he said with a grin before grabbing a fork from a drawer and starting to eat.

“You’re welcome,” you said with a chuckle. “I don’t get why you like pie that much though,” you commented, and Dean sent a murderous glare your way. “Don’t listen to her, you’re precious to me,” he muttered to his pie while glaring at you.

Both you and Sam laughed and shared an exasperated look.

“At least Y/n never forgets the pie,” Dean said, again looking at his brother.  “And for that I thank her very much,” he said, turning to face you. Already, he was done with the pie, and he set the foil plate and the fork down on the table, walking up to you. He leaned down and in one swift, sudden, moment, had his lips pressed against yours; soft and warm as he pulled you into a roller coaster of a kiss that made your heart beat fast and heat to rise to your cheeks. Dean tasted of pie and in that moment you understood why he liked it so much.

You broke apart after Sam cleared his throat. Dean glared at him. “What?” he asked.

“Get a room,” Sam said.

“We have one, but you’re in it,” Dean said moodily and Sam, obviously not in the mood for a fight, sighed and walked out of the room.

“What was that for?” you asked once Sam was gone.

“It was for the pie. And I’ve wanted to do it for a long, long time.”

Ready Aim Fire

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Word Count: 1020

Summary: Dean shows Y/n how to shoot a gun.

A/N: Happy birthday to Dean Winchester! May he have all the pies he wants.

gif not mine, credit to whoever owns it.

“You say you want to be a hunter, princess, but do you even know how to shoot a gun?” Dean asked, making eye contact with you. You, stubborn as ever, rolled your eyes and crossed your arms on your chest. “No, I don’t. But nobody was born knowing how. Somebody had to teach them. Somebody even had to teach you. So, why can’t you show me how to shoot a gun? I might surprise you,” you said, voice challenging.

He held your gaze for a long minute, apparently trying to decide whether to try to teach you how to shoot or not. In the end, you won, and he nodded.

“Very well. I’ll show you,” he said begrudgingly, pushing himself off the doorframe, which he had been leaning against.

“The shooting range is this way, follow me,” he muttered, walking out of the kitchen and heading to the shooting range.

“Here we are,” he announced, pushing the door open. He turned the lights on and they flickered into life, illuminating the distant targets on paper and the grey concrete walls.

“Our goal for today is to make sure your stance is proper and that you can hit the target. Proper stance will soon be forgotten in an actual fight, but we want you to improve on your aim right now,” he explained irritably, trying not to lose his patience.

“And I ought to warn you now, before it’s too late; being a hunter isn’t a field trip. It’s dangerous. It could cost you your life, the life of the people you care about. The reward is only emotional, and the recognition is nonexistent. You have the chance to turn away now. You have the chance to live a normal life, free of worry about ghosts and demons and angels. If you walk away right now, this whole thing will be just a distant memory,” here, Dean turned to face you. His expression was grave and serious. “If you walk away right now, you can have a family and friends.”

You looked up at him defiantly. “I’ve been living a normal life all my life, and I’m bored out of my wits. That’s not what I want for myself. Now, teach me how to shoot a damn gun,” you said and, with a sigh, Dean took his gun out of its holster.

“Watch closely,” he instructed, “You’ll have to copy my movements when it’s your turn, so pay attention. Your feet have to be shoulder width apart and slightly bent, and your arms have to be fully extended,” he said, reciting the information from memory. He himself adopted the stance and squared his shoulders. He cocked the gun, pressed the trigger and a bullet flew straight through the head of one of the silhouettes on the targets.

Dean then turned to look at you, carefully handing you the gun.

You nervously walked up to where he had been standing and tried your best to replicate his picture-perfect stance. You took aim as best as you could and squeezed the trigger. The bullet barely managed to hit the very edge of the paper target. To your surprise, Dean had a look on his face that said ‘not bad’.

You turned back towards the target to examine your shot, which really wasn’t all that bad. “Quite good,” Dean’s voice said from directly behind you, his breath tickling the back of your neck, and you gave a tiny squeak in surprise. You hadn’t realised he had walked up to be standing where he was now. You heard him give a low chuckle at your reaction, and that small sound sent shivers down your spine. Admittedly, Dean Winchester was a very attractive man, and standing as you were at that moment, with his toned chest almost pressing against your back, awoke a fire deep in your belly.

“You still need to work on your stance a little bit,” he said, his hands ghosting touches on your arms and lower back and waist as he gently guided you into the proper position. When he was satisfied, he instructed you to extend your arms in front of you, and you did as asked. From behind you, he mirrored your movements and extended his arms as well, to correct your grip on the gun.

“Now, shoot,” he muttered in his deep voice, and you aimed carefully before pressing the trigger. This time, you managed to hit the outer rim of the target’s body, and you grinned in success, turning to face Dean. Having forgotten about your proximity, you uttered a small ‘oh’ when you found yourself chest-to-chest with the hunter. He grinned down at you and carefully took the gun from your grip, putting the safety back on and tucking it back into its holster.

“You could be a good hunter,” he commented casually, before leaning down closer to you to cover some of the distance between you. “Providing you’d stick to hunting with us, I can make you into one of the best hunters ever,” he said, but you weren’t paying attention to his words; only his lips. Your eyes were locked on them and you felt as if you were in a trance. Apparently, he’d noticed, because he brought his hand up to your chin, softly nudging it up so that your gaze met his.

Dean leaned down, you stretched up, and your lips met in a wonderful, mesmerising kiss that set your nerve edges on fire. He deepened the kiss by tilting his head and opening his mouth just wide enough so that his tongue could lick your lips and enter your own mouth. At that, you gave a small moan and snaked your arms around his neck for stability. The kiss went on like that for quite some time until you both pulled apart, panting, but very happy.

“So, what do you say? D’you really wanna become a hunter?” Dean murmured in a voice that was huskier than normal. You nodded.

“Oh hell yes,” you whispered in reply, and leaned up to kiss him again; the second time just as magical as the first.

Possessed

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Word Count: 940

Summary: Sam is possessed by a demon, and you try your best to help him.

Warnings: Some curse words.

A/N: I hope you like it!~

You glared at Sam -no, not Sam, the demon, you had to remind yourself- who had been tricked into walking into a demon trap. The tall hunter’s shirt was soaked through with blood where his anti-possession tattoo had been mutilated with a knife, and a smirk of superiority so unlike Sam’s usual warm smile was plastered on his face.  

“What do you have to say for yourself, sweetheart? Because it’s getting really boring here, don’t you think?” said the demon trough Sam’s voice. Wrapping your mind around the fact that Sam’s usually gentle and friendly voice could hold so much scorn had taken some time, but now, after spending about an hour with the demon inhabiting your friend’s body, you could listen to him talk without flinching and being overcome by a murderous urge.

“I want my best friend back, you bastard,” you growled, moving closer to the mark on the floor and pointing Ruby’s demon-killing knife, which the Winchesters had lent to you before the mission, at the demon.

The demon laughed. It was more of a manic, wicked, cackle than a laugh, and then it looked at you through Sam’s hazel eyes with disdain.

“Oh, you’d never lay a finger on your handsome friend’s body over here,” said the demon, dropping you a wink. “Plus, if you want me gone so much, you can go on and exorcise me. You know the words, sweetheart, don’t you?” the demon added, assuming a deep, husky, provocative tone of voice as he spoke.

Never losing eye contact with you, the demon made Sam’s hands run all over his broad chest, unbuttoning a few buttons of his red plaid shirt as it did so, putting Sam’s chest on display.

Trying to suppress the feeling of giddiness that came over you when you saw the hunter’s bare chest, you mustered all your hatred towards the demon in one heated glare, which made you narrow your eyes and grit your teeth as you tried not to stare at Sam’s chest.

“Oh, I can exorcise you. But I need information first. About Crowley’s whereabouts. Tell me. Where is he?” you asked, gathering all of your self-control and willpower to make your voice sound nonchalant as you spoke. Your gaze, while still full of hatred, held authority, and your posture -seemingly relaxed, but actually tense and ready to attack should the need arise- exuded superiority. To accentuate the fact that you weren’t bluffing -which you actually were, because you’d never touch a blade to Sam’s skin- you ran a casual finger along the serrated blade of the demon-killing knife, smirking.

The demon caught the bluff though, and gave another one of its expected hysterical cackles. “You’re not gonna hurt this body. I can see it in the way you’re trying too much not to stare at his chest; in the way you’re stalling for time and trying to trick me. But honey, I’m a demon. I can’t be lied to. The thing is, you’re so painfully in love with the man I’m possessing that it’s so obvious it hurts. So obvious to everybody but you two. So no, you’re not hurting Sammy over here, so I’m-” You were so angry you saw red. You raised your voice over the demon’s, cutting it off mid-sentence, and spewed out an exorcism, not caring that in doing so you were completely neglecting your actual goal.

With a howl of pain, the demon left Sam’s body and you hurried up to him as he collapsed to the ground, kneeling next to him and helping him sit up.

“Sam... are you okay?” you asked him, and he stifled a groan, but nodded.

“I’m fine...” he managed to say. “But... we were supposed to gather information about Crowley,” he said. On impulse, you gripped his face between your hands and looked him square in the eye. You could lose yourself in his hazel, ever-changing, eyes. Depending on the lighting, they could seem green, or blue, or brown, and you could spend hours thinking about them, but right now you had to focus.

“I don’t care about that, Sam. You are so much more important to me than any piece of information that demon could have given us,” you said.

He frowned and stayed silent for a bit. Neither of you moved an inch, and you could feel his breath hot against your face.

“Is what the demon said true?” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Do you... Are you in love with me?” he asked cautiously.

You were taken aback by his question. You had expected something along the lines of ‘let’s go find Dean’ or ‘it’s okay that you didn’t get information from the demon about Crowley, but we have to figure out what to do next’, so you were surprised. So surprised that you blurted out your response without thinking.

“Yes,” you said, and his eyes widened imperceptibly in surprise.

His face broke out into a grin that held so much happiness it made you smile as well. “That’s excellent. Because... because so do I,” he said, his voice trailing off in a whisper as he leaned in closer to you.

Your lips met hesitantly at first but then, as you both were drawn closer to each other like moths towards the light, it was magic. He was a great kisser, and he elicited small sounds from you as he nipped and sucked on your lower lip. Your lips tingled where they met his, and you had never felt better.

And, as you pulled away, you smiled, because you had not only gotten a friend back, but a lover too.

Say You Won’t Let Go

Summary: What does Dean feel when the woman he loves is dying?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1198 (with song lyrics)

Warnings: Slight language and angsty angst. Sorry!

A/N: This is for @katymacsupernatural‘s Writing Gif Challenge. My gif is below. I got inspired by the song “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur, so it’s included in the fic. The lyrics are italicized. It’s a bit of sweet angst from Dean’s POV. It’s unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine!

Keep reading