Ask Box Closed!
I’ll probably write some stuff up tonight and hopefully, if I stop procrastinating, requests should be cleared out in about 2 weeks.
I’ll probably write some stuff up tonight and hopefully, if I stop procrastinating, requests should be cleared out in about 2 weeks.
I know I said it not that long ago, but requests are really starting to pile up. So I’m going to be closing the ask box soon (in just over 12 hours). If you have any requests, send them to me now so that they will be done!
I’m hoping to clear it out within a couple of weeks, but I guess we’ll have to see how it goes. But I will let you know when requests are open again!



I had a few requests for a Part 2 to an imagine I wrote yesterday, so I wrote one, trying to fit in all the things you guys suggested for it. I’m really glad you guys liked the first one so much!
LINK TO PART ONE: http://imagines-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/84220821934/can-you-do-imagine-the-reader-finding-out-deans-been~~~~~
“Thanks,” you muttered, slamming the door of the pick up truck shut. The driver was the fifth person to give you a lift back to the bunker, each person only able to take you a short distance before their lives carried them in another direction. But now you were almost home, and as you hitched your duffel bag up onto your shoulder, you began the long walk which would take you to the door of the bunker.
As you trudged along, the occasional autumn leaf crunching underfoot, you thought about Dean. You knew that he was the kind of guy to have a lot of one night stands, but you thought that all that had been before you. You thought that what you had was different, and he had led you to believe that he felt the same way. But maybe you had just misread the signs, searching so hard for something that you willed it into existence.
You let yourself into the bunker, your feet thumping down the stairs. “Hey,” Sam called out, coming into view. “Where’s Dean?” The colour drained from your face and you shook your head slowly, locking your eyes onto Sam as if he was the only thing holding you above water. He noticed your mood, the way you held yourself, and his expression turned fiercely protective. “What did he do?”
“I didn’t quite catch her name,” you answered bitterly, swallowing the lump in your throat.
“That asshole!” he exclaimed. He strode towards you, holding you up as you collapsed into him. Your body shook and he didn’t comment on your tears, although it was impossible for him not to notice. He simply held you tighter, slowly rocking you back and forth. “Did you want to talk about it?” Your head was tucked up against his chest, and his words were muffled. Shaking your head, you burrowed deeper into the flannel of his shirt.
The two of you stood there like that for several minutes, Sam anchoring you and providing a solid foundation to hold you up. But the peace you had found was interrupted by a loud bang as the door was flung open. You spun around, bracing yourself for an attack, but slumped again as you realised what had caused the ruckus. Dean.
“What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice almost drowned out by the sounds of his feet clattering down the steps. He began to make his way towards you but you shrank back, tucking yourself into the arm Sam wrapped around you. Dean stopped, his expression pained at the obvious mistrust you had in him.
“Please. Just hear me out,” he begged as Sam’s gripped tightened on you. He started to tell Dean to get out, but you cut him off.
“Do you think you could give us a minute?” you asked quietly. At his look of protest, you held your ground, giving him a look that conveyed your determination to speak with Dean. You had to tell him it was over, that there was no going back from this. And you knew that this particular conversation was one Sam couldn’t be present for. As he walked off, you turned back to Dean. “How did you get here so fast?”
“I left almost as soon as you stormed out.” You frowned up at him in confusion, unsure as to why he’d do such a thing.
“Why? You seemed pretty busy to me,” you said bitterly, a dark look crossing your face at the memory.
“Y/N, I was never gonna let you go without putting up a fight,” he said earnestly, his eyes pleading with you to understand him, to forgive him.
“You didn’t let me go. You pushed me away,” you told him, shutting your eyes for a moment to will back the tears that were building up.
“I know,” he agreed. “I made a mistake. And I’m so, so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself.” You lifted your eyelids, fixing him with a cutting look.
“A mistake happens once. By the sound of things, this has happened a few times.”
“Look, I’m sorry! Just give me another chance and I swear I’ll never do anything like it again,” he promised. You gazed at him dubiously, the hurt pulling at your heart, sharper and more painful then the fangs of any werewolf could ever be. He saw your doubt, and he gave it another shot, seeming to sense exactly what you needed to hear from him in order to be sure of where his loyalties lay. “Do you remember that day in the diner?” he asked, taking a step closer to you. “It was a Wednesday, just after the lunch rush was over. Sammy and I came in and you were working. And when you came over, you wrote down our order in a pink pen. I thought it was a bit weird, and you explained that you were always putting your pens down places and forgetting where they were.” He paused for a minute, searching your face for a reaction, some sign that his words were working. “I told you that of all the angels I’d met, I’d never seen one as heavenly as you. I bet you didn’t realise just how serious I was being.” You smiled in spite of yourself, thinking of the layer of truth in the words he’d first said to you so long ago.
Dean saw the crack in your hard demeanour and reached forward, carefully grasping your hands in his. When you didn’t push him away, he continued on, growing encouraged by your weakening resistance. “And we arranged to meet up that night, but I was so nervous, I almost missed it trying to pick out the right flowers for you. I don’t normally do that kind of thing, but I felt that you were something different, something special.” You glanced up in surprise, your jaw hanging slightly agape. In all the stress and fear of that night, with all the patching up and explanations that had gone on, you’d never realised that he’d bought you flowers. They must have stayed in the backseat of the Impala, left to wilt.
“You bought me flowers?” you asked in a hushed voice. He nodded.
“Yeah, I did. But I never got to give them to you,” he responded. “I was lucky enough to find you alive.” His voice cracked, and he glanced down to compose himself before continuing. “When I saw you on the ground with that monster hovering over you, I knew that I had to protect you, that I wanted to protect for years to come. And I know…I know I haven’t done such a good job of it lately, that I was the one you needed to be protected from, but I would do anything for a second chance with you. Because I love you, and I don’t think I’m ever going to want to protect anyone else as much as I want to protect you.”
You blinked back more tears. But this time, they came from a different place, one of happiness rather than sorrow. “You’d do anything?”
“Anything,” he confirmed. You thought for a moment, wanting so badly to have Dean back, but not knowing if you should grant him forgiveness.
“Alright. I…okay,” you conceded after much consideration. “We aren’t going to be back where we were. In fact, we aren’t even going to be dating straight away,” you told him. “But I want you back so badly, so if you can prove to me that I can trust you, I’ll do it. I’ll trust you again.”
“Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes filling with life at what you had just offered him. And even though this was only the start of his attempt to redeem himself, you could see his resolve, and you knew that this time, he wasn’t going to let you slip away again.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
Hey! I love your imagines. You should do a Sam imagine based on the song "Do I wanna know?" By Arctic Monkeys :)
Anonymous
Hi. OMIGOSH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just listened to Arctic Monkeys for the first time EVER to write this AND THEY ARE PERFECT!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much for converting me!!!
Anyway, I hope you like it!
~~~~~
You lay back on the lumpy motel mattress, the bed frame groaning in protest. Your headphones were in your ears, playing a song which somehow reminded you of Sam. Everything in your life seemed stuck at the moment. The song stuck on repeat, your thoughts stuck on Sam. And you couldn’t move on, not without knowing how he felt about you. But did you really want to know? Of course, he could return your feelings, but at the same time, you ran the risk of rejection. And so you were stuck, your whole life dependent on the answer to a question you didn’t want to ask.
A jolt to the bed sent you shaking the headphones out of your ears. You looked up to find Sam standing at the foot of your bed, nudging it with his toe. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s a Friday night. Why don’t you go out and do something?’
"I’m not really into all that,” you answered, laughing off his question. Little did he know that he was the reason you didn’t go out, that you were so hung up on him you could never fall for someone else. He smiled at you, and the urge to lean up and kiss him was almost overpowering. Moments like this seemed to happen so often, and each time it felt harder to stop yourself. Because you knew that it would be the easiest way to find out his feelings. He would either kiss you back, or you could just wave it off as an experiment.
He turned to go back to his laptop and you watched him walk away, a heavy weight hanging on your heart. Deep down, you wondered if you had missed your chance with Sam. After all, not that long ago, he’d shown an interest in you, and you knew that he had been open to having a relationship with you. But you had been scared, reluctant to go out with him after hearing the failed attempts of hunters to have a normal life. And now you didn’t know if his heart was still open, but you desperately hoped that there was still time before it shut, time to gather the courage to tell him how you felt.
Every so often, when you had had a bit too much to drink, you scrolled through your contacts to find his name. But each time, you had turned off your phone before dialling, putting it away before you changed the nature of your relationship dramatically, be it for better or for worse.
You knew that your crush, your obsession, was bordering on pathetic, but had to knew whether your feelings were requited. Eventually, you were likely to find yourself asking, the cover of night providing the safety to ask the question that daylight scared away. And you were just hoping that he would choose to stay, because he was the one you kept crawling back to.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
Can you do "Imagine the reader finding out Dean's been cheating on her"?
Anonymous
Hi. I sure can! I hope you like it.
And I just wanted to say that reading over my more recent fics, I think I’ve noticed improvement from when I first started writing these. So I’m really proud of myself at the moment.
~~~~~
You ambled along the footpath towards the motel, gazing around at the night around you. The street lamps had just come on, casting a glow across the pavement. As cars sped along the highway, not far away from where you stood, you could see the flash of headlights and hear the sound of their engines.
This was a rare night off for you, a break from the constant researching and fighting that life as a hunter involved. You intended to make the most of it, not rushing anywhere, but just taking the time to relax, to take things in.
As the motel came into view, you smiled to yourself, knowing that Dean was waiting for you inside. The two of you had been dating for around five months. It had all started when you’d been working your shift at the local diner and two men had come in, who you later found out were Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean had flirted with you, causing a flush to creep along your cheekbones. He’d asked to meet you after your shift and you had agreed. After all, it had been a while since someone had shown in interest in you and he seemed like quite a nice guy.
But then he’d been running late, and you were attacked by a werewolf. It’s claws had ripped into you, it’s fangs heading straight towards your chest, saliva dripping off the sharp points. If Dean had shown up a minute later, you would’ve been dead. So you had started hunting with them, never wanting to feel the powerlessness of that night ever again.
You fitted your room key into the lock, twisting the doorknob. “Dean?” you called out, opening up the door. Before you lay a man and a woman in the bed together, passionately making out. You apologised profusely, thinking at first that you had entered the wrong room. “Wait a minute. Dean?” Your expression turned to one of horror as you realised that the man in the bed was your boyfriend, the man you loved. Who apparently didn’t care much for you in return.
“Y/N?” Dean asked, sitting up and pulling the quilt over himself and the woman. “I thought you said you would be out for a couple more hours?”
“I’m sorry, does that suddenly make it okay to sleep with someone else?” you choked out, fighting to push back the tears.
“Who’s this?” the woman asked, holding the quilt up to cover her bare chest.
“His girlfriend,” you answered bitterly, your gaze locked on Dean. An aching had spread through your chest, the betrayal a stab to your heart.
“You never told me you had a girlfriend,” she said, turning to Dean. You rolled your eyes. As if they’d had much of a chance to talk in the hour or two they’d known each other. “Is this why you cancelled on me the other night?” she continued. Your eyes widened, hysteria rising up inside you.
“What? This has happened before?” All the barriers you’d built against the tears were torn down, your emotions a hurricane whirling around inside you. The tears sprang from your eyes, streaking down your cheeks.
“Y/N, I never meant to hurt you,” Dean told you.
“Well, gr-great job on that,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around your stomach. “H-how could y-you do this to me?”
“I still love you, Y/N. You have to believe me,” he pleaded. Slowly, you shook your head at him, watching as he fell silent.
“I trusted you,” you whispered.
“You still can. I’ll make it up to you. I promise!”
“No, Dean, you won’t,” you stated hollowly. “It’s over.” His face blanched, his features losing the hope and fight they’d contained a minute ago.
“You’re leaving me?” he whispered. “But…will I ever see you again?”
“Yes,” you answered. For a moment, a spark of hope filled his eyes again, before dying out as you continued. “Sam’s a very close friend of mine. I’ll stick around to hunt with him. But if you ever talk to me again outside of business, I’ll leave forever,” you warned. Your body shook and you bit down on your lip, working hard to maintain your composure. “Because what you’ve done, Dean…there’s no making up for it.”
You picked your bag up from the ground, stuffing a few loose items inside. Dean called out for you, begging you to hear him out. But you stormed out of the room, off to hitch a ride back to the bunker. The more steps you took, the further away Dean got, and his voice soon died away. And as soon as you couldn’t hear him, you knew that it meant he wouldn’t be able to hear your anguished sobs.
~~~~~
Thanks for reading! Please don’t repost without giving credit.
LINK TO PART TWO:
http://imagines-supernatural.tumblr.com/post/84318320714/i-had-a-few-requests-for-a-part-2-to-an-imagine-i
Your work is freaking amazing. Can you write one where the reader gets caught up in a hunt situation and won't leave till she figures out what's going on and then she really warms up to Sam and it gets really fluffyyy? :)
Anonymous
Hey. Thank you so much! I hope this is what you were after! And sorry about the wait.
I’m actually really proud of this, so I hope you like it!
~~~~~
Sobs wracked your body, your mother’s lifeless form cradled in your arms. She was just sleeping, it’d be fine. If you shook her hard enough, called her name loud enough, she’d wake up. Except she didn’t.
Standing up slowly, you gazed around your living room, ravaged by destruction. The furniture was turned over, the coffee table practically in splinters. The couch - the one you had sat on whilst watching Saturday morning cartoons, where you read on lazy Sundays, the place where your mother had looked after you when you were sick - was completely shredded, the seat cushions thrown around the room and the stuffing coming out.
Stepping forwards, you heard a crunching under your feet and looked down to find the shattered remains of your family photos. On top of the pile lay a photo of you and your mother, taken on your graduation day. Her face was marred by the crack running through the glass, which was ironic considering the fact that you’d just seen her real face shattered, slammed against the wall by an unknown force.
You shuddered, backing away from the room. It was too much, it was all too much. You needed to get out of here, to get away from it all. It couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t. Things like this didn’t happen in real life, and not to your family. These sorts of things were meant to be read about in the papers, watched on the news. Not experienced. But at the same time, you knew that this was nothing like what you’d ever heard of. People weren’t supposed to be thrown about by invisible people. There weren’t even supposed to be invisible people.
You turned around, fleeing back down the hallway towards the front door. However, you were pulled up short, crashing head first into something solid. You backed away in fear, sure that whatever had harmed your mother had come for you. But as you looked up, you realised you could see the thing you had hit, and as it turned out, it wasn’t something, but someone.
Two men stood before you, both wearing formal looking suits. The one you had run into, the taller of the two, had chin length dark hair, and stood beside another man, who was tall but not like the first one, with hair slightly lighter in colour. “Who the hell are you?” you asked, trying to mask your fear.
They both reached into the inside pockets of their suit jackets, pulling out an FBI badge. “Agent Stark and Agent Banner. FBI.” You blinked a little in confusion at their names, but gestured for them to continue. “We were passing through the neighbourhood and heard screams. We thought we’d look into it.”
“It was my mother,” you told them. “She…oh my god, she’s dead.” The reality of it hit you, the force of the realisation winding you. You felt yourself begin to hyperventilate and the taller man touched your arm, guiding you into the kitchen.
“It’s gonna be alright, I promise. You just need to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Can you do that for me?” You nodded, trying to do as he said. Sitting down heavily in a chair, you felt your breathing slowly returning to normal. “Now can you please describe what happened?” the FBI agent asked gently, noticing your calmer state.
“I was just coming home from the shops, and I heard a crash coming from the house, followed by a scream,” you began. “I ran into the house and the living room…it was just trashed. And right in the middle of it all was my mum, and she was just flung across the room and straight into the wall. And she…” you had to swallow before continuing. “She was dead when I got to her.”
“What threw her?”
You flipped up your palms, conveying your cluelessness. “That’s the thing. There was nothing there.”
“Alright, um…?”
“Y/N,” you supplied.
“Alright, Y/N,” the shorter man continued. “Do you think you could tell us if your mum bought anything in the past few days? Probably something old, maybe an antique.”
“What sort of question is that?” you demanded.
“Please, just tell us. Every detail can help, even if it seems insignificant.”
“Well,” you replied, wracking your brain. “I know she was really into going to second hand stores, picking up things she thought were interesting or unusual. She liked the idea that something she owned had a story, a past, as though it was a real person. And I’m pretty sure she went looking in an antique store the other day when she went out, but I have no idea if she got anything.”
The two agents exchanged a glance. “Could you just excuse us for a moment?” the tall one asked. You nodded in consent. As the two of them walked away, you heard them muttering things that sounded like ‘spirits’ and 'EMF’.
“Excuse me,” you interrupted, barging in between the two of them. “When are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”
“What are you talking about?” the shorter man asked.
“Well for starters, my mother was thrown across the room by something invisible. Don’t you think that’s just a little bit weird?”
“It was a lot to take in. You were probably just-”
“Don’t you dare tell me I was imagining it!” you cut him off. “I know what I saw. And I think you do as well. I mean, since when do FBI guys talk about ghosts and ask about people buying antiques during a murder investigation? When are FBI guys ever just driving through the neighbourhood?” You raised an eyebrow at them and stood with your hands on your hips, daring them to contradict you. “And don’t think I didn’t notice your names. Agent Stark and Agent Banner? I’ve seen the Avengers, you know. And I don’t think I need to tell you that it’s an offence to impersonate a federal agent.”
“Look, Y/N,” the taller man began.
“If you’re about to tell me I’m making all this up, then you can just shut your mouth,” you warned.
“No, you’re right. We aren’t FBI guys. My name’s Sam Winchester and this is Dean, my brother,” he explained.
You narrowed your eyes at them suspiciously. “What are you doing in my house?”
“You may want to sit down,” Dean suggested.
“I’ve just seen my mum get - get killed,” you answered. “I can handle whatever you’ve got to say.”
“Alright,” Sam began. “Well, what attacked your mother was a spirit. The reason we were asking about any old objects she might have recently purchased was because we’ve been in town investigating a string of similar murders, and we believe she may have come into possession of the item that the spirit is attached to.”
“That’s-that’s ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Ghosts aren’t even real!”
“How else would you explain it?” Dean asked. You opened your mouth, but shut it again when you realised you had no other explanation. “Exactly.”
“So I suppose you guys are like Ghostbusters then?” you joked.
“No. We’re better,” Dean smirked. He turned on his heel, heading outside to where they’d presumably parked their car. You looked back at Sam.
“So…” you began.
“So,” he answered with a smile.
“Thank you,” you murmured.
“For what?”
You blushed. “You were very sweet to me before. When I was freaking out, I mean.”
“That was nothing,” he replied bashfully.
“Well if that was nothing, I’d like to see something.” You froze. “I mean, you know, I just -”
“It’s alright,” Sam assured you. “I understand what you’re getting at.” You both stood around for a moment, taking turns to glance at each other before darting your eyes away, not wanting to be caught staring. “I should probably go,” Sam said, interrupting the silence. “Dean’ll be wondering where I am.”
“Wait!” you called after him, stopping him from leaving the room. He turned back to face you, waiting expectantly for you to continue. “I-I want to come with you.”
“Y/N…I don’t think that’s the best idea.” You folded your arms across your chest defiantly.
“And why not? It’s probably a lot better for me than staying here.”
“It’ll be dangerous,” he told you. You snorted.
“Yeah, because my home is so safe at the moment,” you answered sarcastically. He smiled ruefully.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Suddenly, you grew embarrassed, worried that you had overstepped a boundary. “Look, if you don’t want me to come, I understand. I just thought that you seem nice and that we could, I don’t know, get to know one another. Maybe you could help me deal with all this…” you trailed off, wiping away a few stray tears.
“Hey, look at me,” he said firmly. You reluctantly tilted your head upwards, shifting your gaze to meet his. “I’d love for us to get to know each other.”
~~~~~
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How many request do you have?
Anonymous
27 at the moment. But I’m hoping that number will be decreased dramatically over the next week or so!
Hey, I'm not requesting anything, I just wanted to say that you're doing so well to run this blog. You seem to spend a lot of time on it
Anonymous
Hi! Thank you so much for sending this message. It really means a lot to me that you said that.
Hey can you do a readerxcharlie please? It has to involve a movie night and the boys too please :3 thank you <3
Hi. I’m so sorry for the delay! But I hope this is what you were after.
~~~~~
You settled down into the soft leather of the couch, the screensaver of the DVD player bouncing around the screen while you waited for everyone to get ready. Sam and Cas had already taken their places on the other seats in the room and Dean was just heading in, his hair damp from the shower he’d just taken.
You heard the pinging countdown of the microwave and as Charlie opened it, the smell of popcorn wafted towards you.
“Hurry up! I want to start the movie!” you called out to her. As she walked in and sat down, you grinned at her, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn and stuffing them into your mouth.
“Hey!” She slapped your hand away, sending the bowl down on the table where it was out of your reach. “Stop eating all the popcorn! The movie hasn’t even started yet.”
“But it’s traditional to eat it all before the movie starts!” you protested.
“I’m pretty sure that only works when you’re actually in a movie theatre,” Sam pointed out. He was leaning back into the cushions, his legs stretched out along the ground in front of him and his arms folded behind his head.
“Hush, Sam! I’m right. I’m always right.”
“You just go on thinking that,” Charlie teased. You playfully hit her arm before leaning in towards her, capturing her lips with your own. As you ran your hands through her red hair, she placed her hands on your hips, pulling you closer.
“Alright, alright. Tone it down, lovebirds!” Dean teased. “Just remember that I’ve got to watch TV on that couch!”
You shot him a mock glare, trying to contain your smile. But you and Charlie pulled apart none the less, with her moving to rest her head against your shoulder. “I don’t understand,” Cas announced, indifferent to what had been happening around him. You glanced up at the angel to find him seated upright on a chair, a confused frown on his face. In his hands was the DVD case, and he appeared to be reading the blurb. “Why would anyone want to watch a film about children killing one another?”
“There’s more to it than that, Cas,” you explained. “The Hunger Games is a very powerful and well-written story. It’s got a lot of social and political messages, too.”
“It still seems like a horrible tale to me,” he answered dubiously.
“Just give it a shot,” Sam encouraged.
“Who knows?” Charlie began. “You might like it so much that you’ll come and see Mockingjay Part 1 with us at the movies!”
“There are more of them?”
“Yep!” you answered. “The Hunger Games and Catching Fire are the only ones out at the moment, which we’ll be watching tonight. But late this year Mockingjay Part 1 comes out, followed by Mockingjay Part 2 next year!”
“Do you think you guys could stop all this crapping on?” Dean complained. “I want to start watching the movie!” He was sprawled across the lounge, his facial expression showing his agitation at the delay.
“Let’s start then,” Charlie stated, pointing the remote at the TV and pressing the play button.
~~~~~
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Hey I love your blog :3 can you write an imagine where there's a zombie apocalypse and they're on the road to a safety camp and dean and the reader are arguing and Sam just pushes their heads together and they kiss or something and he mutters "finally" or something. Idk write something like that.
Anonymous
Hi. I’m so glad you like my blog! I hope you like this imagine just as much, and I’m very sorry for the delay.
~~~~~
You trekked along the dirt road, Dean by your side and Sammy just behind the two of you. The dusty track stretched ahead of you for miles, hopefully leading to the safety camp you’d heard rumours of. The world had been thrown into total chaos, a zombie apocalypse taking over and causing mass destruction. Despite all the things you’d faced as a hunter, you had honestly believed that a zombie apocalypse would only ever exist in the minds of Hollywood producers. But it had happened none the less, and there was no way the three of you could handle the problem on your own.
“God, how much longer is it gonna be?” you muttered, rubbing the sweat off your forehead before it had the chance to drip into your eyes and sting them.
“Could you stop whining?” Dean snapped, holding his shotgun at the ready. “We’ve still got a few hours left to walk tonight, and after that it should only be a couple more days before we make it there. Just be grateful we’re walking at night.”
“That’s only because the zombies can’t go out in daylight and it’s the safest time to rest,” you pointed out.
“Shut up!” Dean whispered fiercely. “They’re all gonna hear us if you don’t keep it down!” You shifted your own gun in your hands, holding at so that it could easily be manoeuvred to face Dean.
“Stop having a go at me!” you demanded, sending a furious glare in his direction.
“Are you pointing your gun at me?” he asked in disbelief. You turned to look at him. The shadows fell across his face, concealing his expression from you. Behind him, the outlines of trees seemed to creep forwards, appearing every bit as menacing as the zombies you were hoping to avoid.
“That depends. Are you going to stop being a jerk to me?” you retorted.
“For God’s sake,” Sam muttered, stepping forward. He put a hand on each of your heads, shoving them together. “Just get it over with already.”
You froze, incredibly aware of the close proximity of Dean’s lips. His breath mingled with your own and you gazed up into his eyes, noticing that they flicked down for a moment to look at your lips. Slowly, you leaned forward, feeling him do the same. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you felt a soft pressure on your lips as Dean met them with his own. Your lips moved against his in a slow, passionate kiss and your hands reached up to tangle in his hair. After a few moments, you pulled back to catch your breath.
Standing with your body pressed against Dean, you let your hands relax their grip on him, and he rested his forehead against your own. Only a few millimetres of space lay between your lips, and you could feel your breath mingling with Dean. He pulled back slightly, looking down at your face before bringing you in for another kiss.
“Finally,” Sam muttered.
~~~~~
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