Supernatural One-Shots

Dean - 9

You woke up with a pounding heart, sweat beading on your forehead. Your breaths were coming in gentle gasps, your hand immediately going to lay against your chest.

Nightmares weren't uncommon in the bunker, something you and the boys struggled with, no matter how desperate the three of you tried to play them off as nothing you all knew the others had them.

Tonight was your turn you assumed.

You took in a gulp of air, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to calm your thundering heart. The vivid images of your dreams ate at you, flashing behind your eyelids like a horror movie.

When your breath slowed enough you thought it was okay to stand, you stood from bed, pondering on if you needed to change. You had thrown on a tee big enough to barely cover your bottom when you all made it home before you crashes into bed. Deciding the chances of one of the boys being up was slim, you made your way toward the kitchen in search for water.

When you turned the dim corner, you were surprised to see Dean standing at the stove, the only light in the kitchen being the light above the oven. His chest was bare, pajama pants hanging low on his hips so that the waistband of his boxers peaked out, no doubt he had the same thought you did--chances were slim someone else would be up at the same time.

He turned his head slightly, acknowledging you with a glance over his shoulder before he faced back to the stove, hands gripping the edge a little tighter than they had been.

You tip toed to the fridge, teeth clenched shut. You pulled a bottle of water and shut the door, spinning to find Dean watching you.

You smiled sheepishly, whispering. "Hey, Dean."

"What are you doing up?" He asked, voice low and gravelly with sleep.

You looked down at your sock feet, rubbing one against the other. "Oh, you know. Hunter stuff."

It seemed childish to admit to the man you had a nightmare. After all, you were an adult who, most of the time, never admitted to the boys that you had them. Telling Dean you had a nightmare made you feel vulnerable, something you weren't ready to do with him.

The silence that followed your answer had you looking back up at him. His eyes were soft, regarding you with a slight frown. He pushed off the stove and walked toward you, his bare feet on the cool floor the only sound.

When he reached you, he took the water from your hand and placed it on the counter before grabbing your hips and tugging you into his embrace. His arms wrapped around your waist as he stooped over to lay his chin on your shoulder, his nose brushing your neck and sending goose bumps across your skin.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the skin of his shoulder and closing your eyes, the sent of him almost overwhelming, but it was something you always took advantage of. Winchester hugs were rare with you, something you never understood, but when you got one, you never wanted to let go.

Your heart thundered, something seeming intimate to you about hugging him this way and the amount of his skin that was touching yours.

"Dean--"

"You don't have to tell me." His voice was deep and muffled, refusing to move away from your neck. "I don't need to know."

You let out a small breath, relaxing more into his arms and he gripped you tighter, straightening his back and lifting you to your tip toes.

"Come to bed with me." Your muscles tightened and your eyes snapped open. His grip on you didn't falter. "Please?"

As much as you wanted to deny him, to try and think further than tonight, you couldn't help but think about falling asleep in his arms. If it would keep the nightmares away, if you would experience a night of not waking up. One night wouldn't change your relationship with him, right?

You let yourself whisper your approval and his hands slid over the dip of your hips to grips your thighs and put your legs to wrap around his waist. Your face flamed at the feeling of his bare skin again the inside of your thighs and the thought of him feeling this way too.

He carried you toward his room and you were afraid he could hear the thundering of your heart. He pushed open the door and quietly shut it with his foot before he slid you out of his grasp, his room dark and cold.

You hesitated in letting him go, unsure if you were to continue holding him, arms slowly falling to his chest. He caught your wrists in his hands, moving your hands gently across the planes of his chest, over his shoulders and up his neck until your hands were on either side of his face.

His eyes were closed and you were practically holding your breath, fingertips trembling on his cheeks. He blew a breath, fanning over your face before he leaned his forehead against your own.

His green eyes fluttered open, but they were focused on your mouth, something that made you suck in a quiet breath. As if he heard it, he stepped away, your hands falling to your sides and you felt as if you were going to fall.

He reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"

You nodded, shuffling to his bed, where you climbed inside and pulled the thick blankets over your knees, too warm to settle into them. Dean stood in the same spot, watching you make yourself at home in his bed, his eyes darkening when your shirt rode to your waist and revealed the line of your underwear.

He took a heavy step toward you and you watched quietly, skin like fire under his gaze. He leaned onto his hands first, his legs following as he crawled into the bed next to you.

You swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his body next to yours. Your hands were shaking in your lap. Why was this affecting you this way?

Of course, you found Dean to be an attractive man, and you two flirted shamlessly with each other, but laying in bed with him. . . Now that was something you never expected, and you weren't sure how to react.

What was okay? Did you need to scoot as far away as possible? Would he kick you out if you hogged the blankets? Would slight brushes of your skin on his be too much? What if you snored, would he make fun of you?

"Why are you so nervous?" He whispered, laying down next to you and you laid down as well, flat on your back, hands on your belly and eyes wide as you stared at the ceiling.

You couldn't feel him, but you could feel a slight tip in the mattress that let you know he was laying close to you. "I'm not nervous. You're nervous."

"Y/N," He almost purred, the blankets shifting as he moved closer, sitting up and leaning over you, his hands bracing himself on either side of your head. "You don't have to stay."

You swallowed and shook your head, voice breaking as you assured him. "I'm okay."

"I won't do anything, okay?" He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your hairline. "You're always safe with me."

You nodded at his words and slowly, oh so slowly, he moved away from you to lay back down. You took a deep breath and moved yourself around to get comfortable. You laid on your side, facing away from the Winchester.

You closed your eyes, tucking an arm under your pillow. As you stared to doze off into sleep, you could have sworn Dean whispered your name. In your sleep delirious state, you felt Dean wrap an arm around your waist and pull you against his chest.

You found yourself snuggling into the warmth of his skin, a small smile tugging on your lips. You fell asleep peacefully with Dean's arms wrapped tight around you, hoping this wouldn't change anything in the morning.

Hey guys!

So, I'm super into writing. Something you can't tell from how often I update. (I find it difficult to write oneshots without having a prompt :( ) However, I have been working on my own book for a while now.

What's my wonderful reader's opinions on me publishing a book with an update once or twice a week? How many of you guys would be interested in reading something like that?