at first billie was squeezing dean’s heart to try and crush it but cas blocked her hold on dean. and then that’s when dean realized billie was going to crush his heart instead by killing cas in front of dean before she killed dean, too.
“she’s gonna get through that door and she’s gonna kill you and then she’s gonna kill me” dean says, hopelessly. and while it isn’t actually billie who kills cas, dean still has his heart crushed by watching cas die in front of him.
and so when he gets stabbed in the heart with the rebar, it feels like nothing. his heart has already been crushed.
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"at least i dont look like a lumberjack" castiel im so sorry you were stuck in a long-running dark fantasy show you were clearly born to be a reality tv diva
a/n: yes, i am aware of how cliche this fic is, but what can i say? i am a sucker for worried and protective!dean winchester.
masterlist | comfortember masterlist | AO3
There was no way you could be a hunter if you feared death. It was funny, talking about being afraid of death as if you hadn't met him and known him personally for a short while. There were many stakes that came with fighting off the supernatural, and that was injuries, and blood loss, lots and lots of blood loss.
You, Sam, and Dean had figured it wouldn't hurt to go out on a hunt, and it just so happened to be a pack of not so friendly werewolves, many of them unhappy that you had stepped into their terf. That's how you ended up thrown against the wall of the rotting building where they were squatting.
You had hit your head hard against the rusted metal, you were pretty sure you had a concussion as you attempted to reach around and touch the back of it. Your vision was fading in and out and you watched the two brothers kill the mutts, not before you had blinked, and everything went black.
The next thing you knew, you had woken up in yours and Dean's shared bed, Dean hunched over, hand clasped in yours as he rested. You knew your boyfriend was concerned, despite his difficulty to express it.
"Dean?" You rasped. His head rose slowly, his eyes blinking a few times before his gaze finally settled onto yours. "Thank god you're okay." Was the first thing he said, bringing your knuckles to his mouth as he placed a kiss in them. "Of course I'd be okay, Dean. You're not getting rid of me that easily."
He let out a watery laugh, "I wouldn't dream of it, Sweetheart."
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The following below are fandoms that I'm in as well as a few characters that I'm willing to write for. Feel free to ask about someone who's not named on the list (I'll most likely only list 4 per thing for space reasons (I could go on forever with MCU people alone)).
Masterlist | DOs, and DON'Ts
I do the following for imagines and requests:
X Reader
X OC
Character Ships
Male X Male
Male X Female
Female X Female
Any X Gender Neutral
Below the line is the fandom list + at most 4 characters (With the accepting of LoA)
Legends of Avantris (Main Parties)
Once Upon A Witchlight
Icebound
Edge Of Midnight
Uprooted
Stardust Rhapsody
Others to come
Baldur's Gate 3
Halsin
Astarion
Gale
Shadowheart
Others
Marvel Cinematic Universe
Tony Stark
Bucky Barnes
Natasha Romanoff
Wanda Maximoff
Others
Summary: Y/N desperately needs her beauty sleep. After lots of begging and attempts at the perfect puppy-dog-eyes, she finally convinces Dean to stop at a motel.
Square filled: only one bed
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word count: 2,188
Warnings: mostly fluff I guess, some funny bits, flirting, lots of eye rolls
A/N: Surprisingly, I had never written this trope before! I’m not gonna lie, I had fun writing it. This fills my square for @spndeanbingo.
(x)
“Please,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes. Dean averted his eyes from the road to look at you. “Pretty please.”
“I'm gonna kill Sam for teaching the puppy-dog-eye thing,” he rolled his eyes.
“Is it working? Who does it better?” you wiggled your eyebrows excitedly.
“Sam’s been doing this his whole life; he had years of practice. Of course, he does it better,” he pointed out. “Sam looks like a kicked golden retriever puppy, and you-” he chuckled. “- you look like an angry chihuahua pretending to be sad, so you can go to the dog park and scare all the dogs away.”
“I've always wanted to be a chihuahua.”
“You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know,” it was your time to roll your eyes. “C’mon, Dean, there's a motel in a few miles. We can crash there. I'm tired. I desperately need my beauty sleep and my feet hurt and I need out of these uncomfortable clothes.”
“Well, my head hurts from hearing you ramble, but I'm not complaining, am I?” he glanced at you, pursing his lips.
“It's late and it's raining. Do you really want to put Baby through this rain? I bet she's cold.”
“Nah, she likes it when it rains. She thinks it's romantic,” his lips pulled up into an asymmetric grin. “If you want to, you can go into the backseat, change into your pjs and get some of your beauty sleep. I promise I won't look while you change. Unless you ask me to.”
“Dean, c’mon.”
“If I pull up at the motel and we crash there for the night, will you stop whining?”
“I'll never whine again for the rest of my life. Cross my heart.”
“Hey, careful there.”
“Please,” you batted your eyelashes. “Do it for me. I know that, deep down in that cold heart of yours, you love me.”
“Okay,” he sighed. “You won.”
“Have I mentioned you are the bestest friend in the world?” you grinned.
“Nope.”
“Well, you are the bestest friend in the world.”
Dean drove for a few more miles. The rain cracked on the hood of the Impala. The sound was relaxing and lulling. The neon sign greeted you, and Dean turned left to head into the parking lot.
“Really? Mirth Motel? What kind of name is that?” he grunted.
“I don’t know, Dean,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “At this point, I couldn't care less about the name of the motel. As long as it has beds and a shower, it's fine by me.”
Dean took a few turns in the parking lot, struggling to find a spot he could park his car.
“Oh for fucks sake, everyone decided to stay here tonight?”
“Stop complaining,” you nearly whined.
“There isn't a single spot where I can park Baby. There better be a room available for us.”
“Stop being so grumpy. There's a space available right there.”
“Where?”
“There!”
“Thanks,” he huffed.
“You're welcome,” you pouted.
Dean parked the car, cutting off the engine. He sighed and glanced at you.
“We’re far away from the entry,” he pointed out. “There's no way to get inside without getting ourselves wet.”
“Fine by me,” you shrugged. “As long as I get to take a shower as soon as I step foot in there, it's okay.”
“Okay.”
You and Dean climbed out of the car quickly with duffle bags over your shoulders. You made a beeline to the entrance of the building, the rain mercilessly pouring down on you. Dean immediately went to the front desk, some of his wet hair stuck to his forehead. You took a few steps back, grabbing your phone and deciding to text Sam to let him know you had made a stop at a motel.
“Two queens, please,” Dean smiled at the old lady behind the counter. She nodded and checked on the system.
“I’m sorry, dear, we don’t have any room available with two queen-sized beds,” she offered him a sympathetic smile. “But we do have a room that will settle you for the night just fine.”
“Okay,” Dean frowned as the woman handed him the keys with a smirk. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome, dear. It's on the second floor. Have fun,” she wiggled her eyebrows.
Dean turned to you with wide eyes. You glanced up from your phone.
“All good?” you asked.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Got it.”
“Great. Shall we?”
Dean gave a short nod and led the way.
“Dude, we’ve been to a lot of crappy motels, but this one takes the cake,” he mumbled as you climbed up the stairs. “Why the hell couldn’t I just park the car and get in a room like every other motel?”
“I don’t know, Dean, but complaining won’t make any difference,” you chided. “And we’re gonna stay here for less than twelve hours. We’re gonna be on the road first thing in the morning, so please, just stop complaining, or I’ll smack your head in the wall.”
“Fine,” he rolled his eyes.
Dean twisted the key in the lock, swinging the door open. He stepped inside, flicking on the lights; you followed suit. Dean sighed and threw his head back with a roll of his eyes. You frowned with a tilt of your head before looking over his shoulder.
“Of course there’s only one bed,” you blew out a breath. “Are we in a movie? ‘Cause now it certainly feels like we’re in a movie.”
Dean placed his bag on the table; you did the same.
“I expected more from a place called Mirth Motel,” he said. “I am certainly feeling mirthless.”
“Very funny, Dean,” you rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m gonna take a shower now, and when I get out, you better not be in a sour mood.”
“Whatever. I’m gonna go get us some burgers. Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
Grabbing the keys, Dean walked out of the room. You picked up everything you needed and headed to the shower. The water pressure wasn’t nearly as good as the one you had in the bunker, but, right now, it was everything you needed.
By the time Dean got back, you were laying on the right side of the bed - knowing he’d rather sleep on the right -, reading your book. He held the paper bag in one hand and two beers in the other.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, placing the food on the table. “The burgers are still warm, but I think the beers might need to go in the fridge for a bit.”
“Want me to wait for you?”
“Nah, there’s no need to.”
“Okay, I’m waiting for you,” you said, and he chuckled. “What? There’s no fun in eating alone.”
“It’s gonna get cold.”
“We microwave it.”
“Right,” he smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hmm, this delicious,” you nearly moaned, mouthful.
“Yeah, it is,” Dean smiled as he finished his burger, taking a long swig of his beer. “Look, if you want to, I can sleep in the backseat of Baby. I don’t mind. She’s comfy.”
“No, Dean, it’s okay,” you assured him, hand reaching out to his thick forearm. “The bed is big enough for both of us. It’s a king-sized bed, after all. We’d be in trouble if Sam had come with us.”
“Yeah, we would,” he chuckled. “He hogs all the blankets.”
“And all the space. That giant.”
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
“One-hundred percent sure,” you smiled. “Unless you are the one who doesn’t want to sleep with me.”
“Huh? I- uh- of course, I wanna sleep with you,” he stumbled over his words, his voice trembling. You blurt out laughing. “No. I mean- I don’t mind sleeping with you on the same bed. Clothed and all. Not, uh, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and, uh- yeah, not that.”
“Easy, tiger. No need to get all flustered,” you chuckled. The point of his ears turned pink as his cheeks blushed. He took a long gulp of his beer. “For the record, I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you. I mean, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and all. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”
His wide green eyes lifted at you before averting your face again. Dean cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.
“Would you?” you asked.
“Would I what?”
“Mind sleeping with me butt-naked.”
“Oh. No, of course not,” he stammered, shaking his head nervously. “Not even a bit.”
“Good,” you nodded. “It’s good to know we’re on the same page.”
“Yeah. Yeah, uh- I’m gonna go to sleep then,” he announced, awkwardly standing to his feet. “I’m tired.”
“Okay, you do that. I’ll be right after you.”
“Okay, good. Great.”
Dean locked himself in the bathroom, doing who knows what. You chuckled to yourself with a shake of your head. You loved making him feel embarrassed. Dean would get all cute whenever he felt uncomfortable. His eyes would widen, and he would lose every ability to talk. When his cheeks turned into a bright pink along with the tip of his ears, then everything was chaotic. It was nice to make him blush.
You laid on your back. The mattress wasn’t that comfortable. You didn’t expect it to be memory foam, but you hoped it would be a little comfier than it actually was. Your eyes were glued on the ceiling, your hands over your stomach as your finger tapped the back of your right one. An awkward silence filled the atmosphere as Dean, too, laid on his back without saying a word. His green eyes stared up as he chewed on his lip.
“Penny for your thoughts?” you said quietly, glancing at him.
“The ceiling is moving.”
“What?” you looked up with wide eyes. The ceiling was perfectly still.“Are you high?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure I've been staring at it for too long, and now it’s moving.”
“You’re so weird.”
“Thanks, you too,” Dean turned on his side, glancing at you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that shirt.”
“My shirt?” you bit your lip to keep yourself from bursting into laughter.
“No, my shirt. You stole it.”
“You don’t remember, do you? You gave it to me as a birthday present.”
“It isn’t your birthday for the next month and a half.”
“You said it was an early gift,” you said firmly.
“I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I had given it to you,” he said. “But what do I know, right?”
“What do you know,” you licked your lips, turning to him.
“It looks better on you anyway,” he shrugged.
“Yeah, it does.”
Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a moment, then backed up to your eyes. You drew a sharp intake of breath. His emerald green orbs seemed to unravel all the mysteries of your soul. You swallowed thick, avoiding his gaze. Slowly, Dean’s hand reached to yours under the blankets, his thumb caressed your skin. You looked up at him, his eyes locked in yours. As a way to avoid the growing tension between the two of you, you gave him a playful smirk and placed your feet on his legs.
“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling away; his hand didn’t let go, though. “Why are your feet so cold?”
“I don’t know,” you smiled innocently “You’re always hot, so now you’re gonna warm my feet since the blanket isn’t doing its job.”
“Jesus, it’s like the feet of a corpse.”
“Hey!” you smacked his shoulder. “Don’t say that.”
“Well, maybe if you wore some pants instead of shorts and actually put on some socks, your feet wouldn't be this cold.”
“You’re not fun, ” you pouted.
“If I had my feet against your shins, you wouldn't be too happy about it either.”
“Just admit you love having me this close to you,” you teased, a playful smirk on your lips.
“G’night, Y/N,” he turned his back on you.
“My feet are still cold,” you whined. “What should I do?”
“I don’t know. Use my calves maybe. Just don’t put those dead feet on my back.”
“Can I put them on your ass? I bet it would get them warm pretty quick.”
“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbled, you could almost hear his eyes rolling.
“Is that a yes or a no?” you insisted.
“That’s a no. Now shut it and go to sleep.”
“Fine,” you huffed. “Good night, Dean.”
Eventually, your feet got warm, and you pulled away from Dean. Some time, in the middle of the night, he found your back turned to him and decided to snuggle closer. His strong arm draped over your waist, knees tucked behind yours. Dean was laying on his back when the sun rose, and you rested your head on his chest, his arms once again securing you close. Of course, none of you would talk about waking up in each other's arms for the next four hours you’d be in the car. Perhaps you would only mention it once you were back at the bunker, forced to face what was said and done at the Mirth Motel.
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