A/N: This was supposed to be a ficlet or just a little something about what I would write if I actually wrote something, but instead, I actually wrote something! Prompt provided by @wingedcatninja.
Prompt: Dean x Reader, hurt/comfort
Summary: Dean and the Reader are BOTH hurt on a hunt and Sam has to take care of them. They get… needy.
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Warnings: Nothing. It’s just so freaking fluffy.
Word count: 2322 words
After much squabbling (Dean was hurt worse, but you kind of had to pee), Sam carried you to the bathroom, then helped Dean get settled in his room, then carried you from the bathroom to your bedroom. He left you with an apology and a set of guilty puppy eyes, then raced off to find supplies.
You got changed into comfy clothes all by yourself, thank…Pete, maybe? Can’t thank God anymore, so might as well thank a random dude named Pete. It was about as effective. Anyway, a severely sprained ankle and bruised/possibly cracked ribs made things difficult, but not impossible. Mostly. You’d gotten off easy. Dean had broken his leg. Luckily, it was just a hairline fracture that would heal in a few weeks, but he was non-weight-bearing for a while. As were you. And the little clinic you’d visited for the x-rays was all out of crutches. Hence Sam running around like a one-armed paperhanger to help you both.
A/N:This was a 15-minute sprint game in the SPNFanFicPond discord server yesterday, where we got a bunch of prompts from a generator and had to try and fit as many of them into one story as we could. With 15 minutes to write, I got most of this written, which isn’t too bad for me. The prompts I used were: - Profession: Burlesque performer - Theme: Strip poker - Dialogue idea: [text] I just saw you leave with [her/him/them]. Not beta read or anything because I’m a heathen.
Summary: What Dean doesn’t know will give you the advantage in this game!
Pairing: Dean x reader
Warnings:None
Word count: 323 words
The greatest thing about strip poker with Dean Winchester was how much money you could make off him without even trying.
“Aw, c’mon!” he cried when you put down a full house and grinned with glee. “How do you keep doing that?”
“A girl never tells her secrets, Dean,” you replied coyly.
When Dean won the next hand, you happily removed the tie you’d been wearing and tossed it on top of the jacket, vest, pants, and socks that were already on the floor. Although it was true that Winchesters always seemed to wear dozens of layers, you always managed to wear more. Dressing in outfits that required accessories, like pantsuits, helped. While Dean was down to one shirt and his boxers, you still had your shirt, bra, and panties.
Dean’s eyes traveled over your form, resting on your newly exposed cleavage as you unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on your shirt. “Good thing it’s a bit warm in here, I guess,” you mumbled, fanning yourself with your shirt a little.
Dean cleared his throat and then busied himself with collecting and shuffling the cards. “Uh, yeah.”
Your phone chimed as about 15 notifications came in all at once. “I should get a new phone that knows how to tell me when people are trying to reach me, and not tell me once an hour that they failed.” Pulling up your messages, you saw a text from Sam.
>>I just saw you leave with Dean. Gonna fleece him in strip poker, again?
<<Just got this message, and yes. He’s down to his skivvies.
>>Are you ever gonna tell him you used to be a burlesque dancer and know how to strip professionally?
You looked over at Dean, who was trying to look like he was studying his cards, but he was really studying the bare skin you had just flashed when crossing your legs.
