Summary: Sam’s taking on the trials, despite you and Dean begging him not to. You’re there for him at his weakest, and you take it upon yourself to make a decision for the three of you.
Word Count: 1,416
Warnings: angst, trials!Sam, implied smut
A/N: Written for @impala-dreamer and @idreamofhazel‘s 1k/2k challenge! My prompt was “I’m just trying to take this - this curse… and make something good out of it. Because I have to.” It’s also bolded in the fic.
Gunshots rang out through the hall of the bunker, making you jump and stub your toe on the leg of the table where you sat in the library.
“Damn it, Sam!” You clutched your foot and stood up, stomping toward the underground range. “Sam!” You called out, as another shot echoed from the door. “Sam?” A loud thud followed the metallic sound.
Throwing the door the rest of the way open, you scrambled toward Sam’s massive crumpled form, essentially just a heap of unwashed clothing on the floor. Your legs tucked under his head as you cradled his face in your hands.
“Sam… Sammy, c’mon. Wake up.” Tears slipped out of your eyes and fell onto his forehead, so you wiped them away quickly before leaning down and kissing the droplets from his skin.
A soft groan escaped his lips as his eyelids fluttered open. Bloodshot, but still incredibly beautiful hazel irises peered up at you.
Summary: Dean says “I love you” every single day. He just doesn’t do it with words.
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader
Word count: 1248
Warnings: light smut(very light, trust me guys). Fluff, fluff, fluff and fluff.
Author’s Notes: So I was supposed to be working on the second part to “The Promise” (and I’m almost done, guys, I swear) but after a conversation I had with @ravengirl94 last night, this baby happened. It’s entirely written from Dean’s POV (I guess I like doing that *winks*) and it’s in present tense. Frankly, I’ve never done anything like this before but I enjoyed working on it. I hope you all like it. <3
Dean doesn’t like
bombasts and balderdashes. He’s never been particularly good with words and has, at times, trouble expressing his feelings. He has, however, a heart that loves
overwhelmingly and cares deeply, a heart that bleeds and burns but only grows
and flourishes with love for the ones he considers family.
usually say I love you. Not because
he doesn’t feel it or because he’s embarrassed by the sentiment but because he’s
afraid. He’s terrified that the moment he speaks these words the ones he cares
about will be taken away from him.
But he does love. He loves Sam. He loves Cas.
He loves Y/N, the girl with the bright smile and the Y/E/C eyes that came
bursting into his life and made a wonderful mess out of it. And he tells her
that much. In fact, he whispers those three words to her every day with his actions.
Dean says I love you with the way he looks at her,
soft and intense, green orbs always searching for her in the almost empty rooms
of the bunker or in a room full of people. He says it with the way his eyes
twinkle when she smiles at him, with the way he always gravitates towards her
and everything else just fades away because she’s the only
thing that really matters.