Dean x Reader One Shots

Confetti Cupcakes (Fluff) (Imagine Dean convincing you to stay)

Summary: Imagine having confessed your feelings to Dean and him admitting he didn't feel the same way... then a week later he realizes what a liar he was.

Word Count: 2,644

It was the most embarrassing moment of your life and it was one that would certainly get sliced from your memory if there were some scientific miracle that allowed selective memory deletion. The way he looked at you, the way he moved away from you in the seat when you finally said the words you'd been dying to let out, the way he shook his head and tried to let you down as softly as possible... all things that you couldn't get out of your mind regardless of how much you slept, the quantity of alcohol you consumed, regardless of how loud your music was or how many movies you watched while sitting alone in your bedroom.

Because you were always alone in your bedroom, now. He didn't come in, tried to avoid being stuck in a room alone with you, and while you appreciated his attempt to make everything less awkward after everything was thrown out between the two of you, you didn't like it.

You couldn't like it.

It was impossible for you to be content if the situation called for the two of you to be separated.

He was your best friend before you went and threw that away. It was selfish, you knew it while you spoke and after you spoke and before you spoke, you always knew that trying to take more from the relationship was going to be nothing more than selfish, but you did it anyway. You couldn't handle being only friends, couldn't stand having to be with him without being with him, so when you were selfish enough to risk throwing that all away for a romantic relationship...

Dean Winchester responded the way you always, from the pit of your stomach, knew he would.

You were going to leave, it was decided a full two days ago. You'd started packing up your bedroom a while ago, which put a bit of a positive spin on the fact that Dean refused to come into your room after you confessed your feelings and dealt with his rejection.

But it needed to happen. You'd rather be alone in the world than in a bunker with two men that you used to be so close to, faking relationships you fucked up, and feeling more alone than you ever would have if you were truly alone.

So when you were sitting on your bedroom floor while wearing nothing more than a pair of short shorts and a tank top, your legs outstretched and spread to the sides while pictures and books sat between your thighs, you jumped at the sound of your door opening. When you looked over and saw Dean poke his head in, his eyes squinting while they tried to readjust from going from the darkness of the hallway to the light of your bedroom, you cleared your throat.

"Dean," You stared at him a few seconds before gesturing with your hand to silently tell him it was okay for him to come in, an invitation that he (surprisingly) accepted. You turned back to your pictures and continued trying to sort them, fit them into the envelopes you bought a couple days prior for this exact thing. "What're you doing up?"

"Are you packing?"

"It would seem so."

You heard the springs of your bed creak behind you when Dean sat, his presence in the room weighing like an anchor on you while you picked up your pictures and put them into the envelope. He was silent, the only sound you heard was his soft breathing, but his eyes stuck on you like flies on flypaper and, try though you did, you couldn't handle much more of the tension. After thirty or so seconds of your silent sorting and his quiet staring, you set down the envelope and turned to Dean, your eyebrows high while you asked, "Can I help you with anything?"

He shook his head and lowered himself off the bed, electing to sit on the ground beside you instead. He pointed to the pictures.

"Have you always had those?"