Dean x Reader One Shots

Good Morning to You (Fluff) (Imagine waking up next to Dean)

Summary: Imagine waking up with Dean.

Word Count: 1,467

You were warm, snuggled in your cocoon of blankets when you woke up and you felt yourself smile as soon as you registered the smell of the sheets. They were fresh washed and still smelled like a mixture of man, sleep, and laundry softener, which mixed together to make such a beautiful sensation for your nose.

Then you were cold.

Your blankets were gone.

You grumbled and yanked the blankets back over your shoulder, hearing a disheartened grunt from behind you. You were laying on your side, the blankets tucked nice and tight in your hands beneath your chin, so after you regained control of the comforter you felt yourself relax once again, enjoying the warmth.

Dean tugged them back and your entire front side was exposed to the cold morning air.

"Son of a bitch," you mumbled before tugging on the blankets once again, a small chuckle escaping your mouth. Your voice was crackly from the sleep and your words were slightly slurring together because you weren't entirely awake yet, but they were coherent enough when you said, "You always have the comforter, it's my turn."

You yanked the blankets toward you once again, your eyes still closed from sleep, and tucked them between your legs in order to make it more difficult for Dean to take control once again. Smirking when he tried to pull them back, you held your own; it was hard and required a surprising amount of energy to keep from rolling over when he seemed to have pulled with all of his might, but you weren't about to give the comforter back to him.

Of course you were nearly entirely awake by this point so going back to sleep wasn't even an option, but you were far too bullheaded to simply give in. You heard Dean readjust behind you, felt the warmth of his body and he came closer, closer to you, then you jumped when his arms wrapped around your waist and his legs around your knees. His presence so close to you increased the warmth ten fold, and you tried to pull away from him, now at the edge of the bed, but his arms were tight around your stomach, his legs latched on to your own legs like a lobster claw.

"You were cold," he mumbled, his voice also cracking from the sleep and you smirked at the sound. There was something about his voice right after he woke up that made him more attractive to you; maybe it was the near vulnerability there, the lack of the usual gruffness he tried to maintain. Either way, when you had a sensory overload that included the feel of his flesh on yours, the sound of his morning voice dancing in your ears, and the smell of his sleepy breath in your nose, you couldn't help but smile. "I was cold," he pressed his nose to the back of your neck and you pulled yourself forward once again, a final attempt to keep his cold appendages off of you. "It seemed fair."

"Your nose is cold," you heard yourself groan before reaching a hand over your shoulder to push his face away. "Don't put that thing on me."

"What?" He chuckled and you felt his torso flex when he attempted to come closer to you once again. "You don't like the cold? Isn't that something."

You squealed when he simultaneously pressed his nose to your neck and dug his fingers into your stomach—the exact spot he knew you to be especially ticklish—and you jerked away from him so hard that you tumbled off of the side of the bed, landing with a thud only seconds before a grinning Dean came plummeting off after you. He let out of a soft groan when he landed, his hands on either side of you while he was still somehow wrapped in your comforter cocoon with him, then pushed himself up.

His arms were looped beneath your shoulders and he was leaning up on his elbows, his lower body pressed hard against yours when he looked at you, his face only inches above yours when he smiled. You could see the freckles on his face, the bright green of his eyes, even the small flecks of browns and blues that surrounded the area immediately around his pupil and you felt your stomach churn; even in the morning, even when he had morning breath and bed head and sleep bugs at the corners of his eyes, somehow Dean's smile still had the ability to make you feel like a teenage girl all over again. You saw his eyes drop down to your mouth for a split second before he brought them back up to your own eyes, the movement so quick and small that you wondered whether you'd seen it at all.

"Good morning to you," he whispered, the smile still on his face when he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, the kiss small and short and sweet before he pulled back. "I don't know why you decided to roll us onto the floor, but I guess I can be alright with that."

You rolled your eyes and scoffed before bringing a finger up and touching Dean's nose with it, flinching away when he elected to snap his teeth to try and get a bite at your finger. Your eyes widened, your mouth slightly opened when he made the attempt and you were about to say something snarky when he leaned down and kissed you again, this time allowing his hands to loop around your back and pull you toward him. His mouth was on yours, you felt his unshaven scruff rubbing against your cheeks, your lips, tasted the sleep on his breath, felt his warm breathing from his nose against your cheek when he pulled you up and into a sitting position until your legs were wrapped around his waist, your butt on his lap.

You laughed and flinched when you felt his hand jab your side, one of the places he knew to be your jump spot, only breaking the kiss long enough for your reflexes to kick in and finally relax. You leaned back in to him, taking his cheeks in your hands when you pressed your mouth to his once again, shivers running down your spine when you felt his hands, rough and dry and in need of a good lotion (though he was far too stubborn for that), run up and down your sides, your ribs, crisscross the area of your back. He ran them up and down your spine, the movements slow and steady enough that he left a trail of gooseflesh behind his nails and you were certain you were going to jump out of your skin just before you pulled back from the kiss.

Dean was still leaning toward you after you broke the kiss off and you smirked when you saw that his eyes were still closed, his lips still slightly puckered with the expectation of you rejoining him. You pressed a finger to his lips before he opened his eyes and let a quick glimmer of disappointment pass before straightening his back, pulling you right along with him.

"I'm hungry," you whispered, pressing your forehead to Dean's while your hands rested on his bare chest. Your eyes flickered down, quickly covering every ounce of bare skin before they shot back up to meet your high eyebrows. "Can you make me pancakes?"

"I can only do waffles."

You shrugged. "Waffles sound good."

Dean smiled, his ears perking back in the process. "Can they be chocolate chip this time? You got to choose last time, I think it's only fair that—"

"Yes," you sighed and wrapped your arms around Dean's waist, pressing your lips to his for a second before pulling away and leaning back, your arms around his waist the only thing keeping you from falling on your back, entirely. "Yes, chocolate chip waffles sound great."

Dean smirked, you saw his eyebrows raise when a lightning-fast glimmer of mischief flashed through his eyes; you knew what was coming, your mind expected it but your body couldn't react quite quick enough. A small growl escaped Dean's mouth and a squeal yours, and within seconds you were pressed to the ground once again, Dean's hands exploring your chest, your sides, your hips while his mouth was against your mouth; he moved the kisses down to your chin, he nibbled your ear, went down your neck, to your collarbone, and all the while you felt the goose bumps begin to reemerge on your skin.

"Waffles can wait, right?" He somehow managed to get out in between collarbone kisses and you nodded, the grin huge on your face when you laughed.

"Waffles can wait."