Hey Sammy. I've got to talk to you about something
So it's like this alright... You know how I love pie the best?
Yes I know how you love pie the best
Yeah and I always did since I can remember. And if anybody ever even asked me to eat cake-
You'd throw a bitch fit
I'd politely decline. Shut up Sammy I'm talking. Anyway all my life it was pie and not cake.
But imagine that one day this cake came into my life... this really amazing cake. Like it looks like the most delicious thing to sit on a plate - plucked from God's own dessert tray, if you will.
And I'm like "DAMN! I need to eat this cake right now." And it's not like I don't still love pie, right, like pie is still awesome. But this cake looks so good that I might never eat pie again
I can see myself making sweet love to this cake for the rest of my life
Summary: Just like his freckles and bowlegs, Dean’s slight pudge has always been a part of himself that he’s never felt completely comfortable with. After a few miserable days of unsuccessful dieting and choking down rabbit food, Cas reminds him exactly how beautiful he is.
“You’re getting kinda chubby!”
Charlie makes this remark lightly, offhandedly, as she passes by Dean on the way to breakfast that morning: Dean had been stretching his arms overhead in a yawn so that his cotton shirt rode up over his stomach, which Charlie takes the opportunity to poke.
Startled, he looks down just in time to see the disconcerting way in which her fingertip sort of smushes into the soft, freckly flesh.
Dean halts in his tracks, blinking comprehensively. “Wait, what?” is all he can think to say.
Charlie, who’d been nonchalantly continuing on her way down the hall, turns to look at him. “Well, you don’t have to sound so offended about it,” she laughs. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way or anything!”
Dean folds his arms defensively. “Then what did you mean, Charles?”
“First of all, I answer only to Charlie, Ms. Bradbury, or the Illustrious Queen of Moondoor. Next, I just meant you put on a couple pounds. Maybe getting a bit of a tummy. It’s no big deal.”
Dean looks comprehensively down at his stomach. Now that he thinks about it, he has been eating more these days – he’s been going through sort of a “nesting period” during his relationship with Cas: lots of baking pies, burgers, etc. He didn’t think it was noticeable.
Taking note of the gravity of his expression, Charlie laughs, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “You don’t have to look so glum about it! It’s cute.”
Dean glowers at her, tugging self consciously at his t-shirt. “M’not cute,” he mutters grouchily. “I’m a warrior.”
Charlie laughs again. “Alright, warrior. Hurry up and take care of your morning breath – Kevin’s making waffles again!”
With that, Charlie skips off down the hall, leaving Dean to steep in his juices. He lets Charlie laugh it off, of course – he knows she didn’t mean any harm – but the fact is, Dean’s always known he’s had a little bit of pudge around his midsection, and he’s always been the slightest bit insecure about it. Just like his freckles and bowlegs, it’s one of the things about himself that he’s never particularly liked.
His one solace was convincing himself that these features weren’t as noticeable to everyone else as they are to him. Now, that seems to have changed.
Dean pulls up the rim of his shirt, noting sourly the way in which his pudge protrudes slightly over the waistband of his pajama pants.
This is Captain the Betta. He spent 6 months in a small petco cup because he ugly and only had 1 eye. You can see how little color he had and how skinny he was. When I first brought him home he couldn’t/wouldn’t use his tail to swim. He would just lay on his leaf hammock by the surface.
3 months later and he is unstoppable. He is gaining color and using his tail to swim now. He patrols his tank and guards his ship and treasure. He is a completely different fish. Its amazing what clean, warm water and a good diet will do.
This is wonderful, I love stories like these! It’s so great to see you giving this poor little guy the life he deserves. Thanks for sharing :)
Summary: Everyone’s two favorite things: baking and (oral) sex with Dean
A/N: written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing ‘s Favorite Things Challenge! (sorry I was so agonizingly close to the deadline) also, it’s my first time writing smut for Dean, so be kind to me… also i’m not here for the “Dean’s favorite pie” discourse, so don’t hit me up with messages about what his actual favorite is. I don’t give a shit.
Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving), baking with dean (yes that’s a warning), minor angst, mostly smut tbh
The smell of baking pie sits heavy
on the air, growing stronger with each pie you pull from the oven. You slide the hot tin onto the table, and
stare at the collection of pies and cookies you’ve baked over the last four
hours. So far you had two apple and one
pecan pie, a dozen chocolate chip cookies and a dozen of your own personal
enough, was all you could think. The
stress of your argument with Dean was still weighing on your shoulders. Cherry
was Dean’s favorite, was the next thought.
You eyed the bowl of fresh cherries you’d pitted and washed when you’d
first started baking. When you’d rolled
out of the bed this morning, you’d been disoriented until you realized you were
in your old bedroom, without Dean. Then
you’d remembered the argument from the previous night. Which was why you’d started baking at six this
morning when you usually found yourself sleeping in Dean’s warm arms until