A/N: What is it with me and one shots that turn into series??? Anyways, this is my first Sam series, and I have to give a huge shoutout to my beta @idjitmonkey for helping me to avoid Sam sounding like Dean (#DeanGirlProblems). This is the first part of what will probably be a 3 or 4 part series for @impala-dreamer and @idreamofhazel ‘s Sam fic challenge. My prompt is the quote “We are far from perfect, but we are
good.” I haven’t used it yet, but trust me, it’ll be used later. Let me know if you want to be tagged for future parts!
Sam smelled it first. The smoke. The
charred flesh. The smoldering fabric. It was an all too familiar smell, a scent
no one should have to be familiar with. But the scent came first, and with it,
the memories tattooed in his brain, permanent and infecting his body with a
Next came the realization. It’s happening again. Sam’s heart flew
into his throat as tendrils of gray curled from underneath the door to the next
room. He kicked the door open and the blaze towered over him in an arc like a
tidal wave, but even through the flickering forest of scorching flames, he saw
clearly who this time was pinned to the ceiling.
Your mouth hung open in a silent
scream, eyes wide and panicked but long since dead. Sam called out your name,
lungs bursting in his chest with the force of his shout, but he made no sound.
Sam woke up to sheets soaked with
It had been the same nightmare for
one-hundred and sixty-four days.
You know those characters who are seriously badass that every single time they so much as breath, you’re on your knees thanking the heavens for their awe-inspiring badassery? They’re so badass that they deserve their own playlist. You know those songs that when you listen to them, you immediately picture this badass fight scene in your head? Or when you listen it you think of things that are also badass like black leather jackets? These songs are for those times. Enjoy jamming out to these sick, obviously badass, beats. I use the word ‘badass’ way too much in this paragraph, but then again, one cannot have too much badassery.
Summary: You and Dean babysit your niece, Isabelle.
Warnings: Some suggestive content, not a lot though. Oh, and a tON OF FLUFF.
A/N: Again, this is just another random idea I’ve had that I decided to write. I think this idea is so cute, and I hope you all enjoy! Just a reminder, feedback is greatly appreciated! :)
There was one thing you knew for certain- Dean Winchester did not want kids. Of course, he’d joke about not being able to change diapers without gagging, but you knew, deep down, he was afraid of becoming his father.
His mind was set, or so he thought.
“Babysitting? Really Y/N?” Dean whines, looking down at his button down shirt and nice pants.
You give him an apologetic gaze. “I know, I’m sorry. I know we had plans, but my sister really needs one tonight.” You make your way over to him, running your fingers over the skin he exposed while unbuttoning his shirt. “I promise I’ll make it up to you…” you murmur in his ear, and suddenly, he’s on board.
A half and hour later, you and Dean stood in your sister’s living room, changed in casual t-shirts and jeans.
“Thank you so much, Y/N, Dean”, your sister says gratefully, grabbing her purse and heading to the door. “Numbers are on the fridge, and Isabelle is in her crib right now. She should be fine for a couple of hours. There’s bottles in the fridge, and the diapers are in her room-”
“We’ll be fine, relax. Go have a fun night”, you giggle, gently pushing your sister out the door.
As soon as the door clicks, you and Dean plop on the couch. Soon enough, you both doze off to the soft lull of ‘The Office’ from the TV.
The sudden cry of the baby startles the two of you. You groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “I’ll go get her”, you say as you begin to stand, but Dean stops you. “I’ve got it. You’ve had a rough week.”
Your heart swells with gratification and love. “Okay.”
You do begin to worry when the crying hasn’t stopped for a solid five minutes, and you decide to check up on them.
The sight that greets you when you walk in has you bent over with laughter. Dean, holding Isabelle as far away as possible from him, is awkwardly humming Led Zeppelin and trying to shush the crying baby in his arms.
“Don’t laugh at me”, Dean pouts, but his voice sounds slightly desperate and humiliated.
Still slightly laughing, you head over to your confused boyfriend. “Here, hold her like this.” You adjust his arms so that Isabelle’s head is cradled on his shoulder and his arms are wrapped securely around her. “Then just rock her, up and down, just like that”, you praise as Dean, awkwardly at first, rocks the baby.
Isabelle’s crying softens into quiet whimpers before sleep overtakes her again. Dean gently places her back in her crib as you two quietly head out back into the living room.
“You’re a natural”, you say with a grin as soon as the two of you are back on the couch. Dean just scoffs, the tips of his ears slightly red. “I’m being serious.” You rest your head on his shoulder. “You’d be a great dad.”
Dean stiffens at first, but relaxes as he gazes at you. Maybe having a kid wouldn’t be too bad, he thought– as long as you’re the mother.