I’m going to start a collection based on this post and this post. I shouldn’t because it’s silly but I’m weird and like silly stuff. So here we go. First one of Team Free Will with Koala-Couch-Blanket!Dean and the other too.
I think it won’t be sillier, maybe cuter, who knows…
Summary: The reader finds out that she’s pregnant and has to find a way to tell Sam.
Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy. Brief mention of depression (like, literally one sentence). Angst. I think that’s all, but forgive me if it’s not.
A/N: Yes, I know that this is quite a common trope, but I just couldn’t help myself :) Enjoy my rendition of Sam finding out that you’re pregnant!
It was hard to put into words how you had felt for the past few weeks. Extreme fatigue and nausea had been keeping you sidelined from hunting for too long now. You felt off, almost as if there was something that was completely changed within you.
Of course Sam and Dean picked up on your behavior change. After being their roommates and hunting partners for almost three years now, they were used to your normal and abnormal mannerisms. Dean never vocalized it to you, but he thought you were experiencing side effects of depression. You never ruled that out - after all of the horrors you had seen, you were sure that it was a possibility.
Sam on the other hand, was very vocal about his thoughts that you were physically sick. He had seen you at your rock-bottom worst, and he thought that this time it was different.
The relationship you had with Dean was brotherly. You teased one another, fought one another, but ultimately, loved each other unconditionally. He was family to you.
In contrast to Dean, Sam was not so brotherly. You felt a spark when you were around Sam - you had never felt so loved when Sam was around. The way he would pull you in for an embrace kiss the top of your head was more emotionally charged than just a friend would do.
also there were so many throwbacks to the “oldschool” spn in 12.19. Dean’s mixtape, the Colt, Team Free Will, all of which were dismantled in one way or another.
The Colt being broken was almost cathartic in a personal way, just because it felt like they were saying “we’re not doing things the old way anymore”.
While Dean’s mixtape aka his gift to Cas was briefly returned (WHICH CAS TOOK OUT OF HIS BREAST POCKET RIGHT WHERE THE HEART IS IT’S COOL IT’S FINE), Dean reaffirmed its status and that it was for Cas and regifted it (THE MIX TAPE IS DEAN’S HEART. DO YOU UNDERSTAND. IS IT CLEAR THAT I AM NOT CALM ABOUT THIS GESTURE ON BOTH SURFACE READING AND META READING).
And Team Free Will…. All I can say is that they’ve all had a lot of character development from those who once formed Team Free Will against Lucifer, and now that it’s been broken apart, there’s only waiting to see the new Team Free Will they’ll form against Lucifer’s baby, if that happens at all.
Unlike the old Team Free Will which was Dean and Sam’s codependency issues + Cas tagged on the side because they need him to do things for them, the newly formed Team Free Will will ideally be Dean, Sam, and Cas as individuals who don’t need each other to survive, but choose each other while also knowing that they can have healthy relationships with other people outside of their little group.
Hopefully. Hopefully this will mean that the old way is finally going to be dismantled like we’ve been promised many moons ago (*sadly stares towards carver’s general direction*) in order to build a new way out of the old pieces.
… as soon as he’s back from the Dead… like the second he’s back. No. That’s OOC and frankly a bit underwhelming and overrated to me tbh.
I want Dean to pull Cas into a hug, one of those tight hugs that may be a bit suffocating to someone just back from the dead. I want Dean to bury his face in the crook of Cas’s neck and just breathe, trying to comprehend that “Cas isn’t dead. Cas isn’t cold like a corpse. He’s warm. He’sAlive”
I want Cas to wrap his hands shakily around Dean, hugging him back, a bit unsure because he just came back from the dead dammit and Dean’s there hugging the life out of him (ironic I know)and after getting a grip of his surroundings, I want Cas to rub Dean’s back soothingly, just wordlessly reassuringly saying “Dean, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m alive”
Dean pulls back not too far back, unsure of the amount of time he spent with his eyes closed, just breathing Cas in it was just a few minutes. And if the trench coat was a little wet, no one mentions it.
“Dean… I… what happened?”
“You… We came out of the Space Vagina and you followed us out. But then Lucifer was there, he had the Angel blade, and he- You were- Cas man why did you follow us in? You knew the plan. What the fuck were you thinking?!” It should sound angry, it had a right to, but it doesn’t come out that way. Dean didn’t mean it that way anyway. It comes out fearful… pleading…
Cas is explaining whatever ‘the fuck he was thinking’ but Dean stops listening half way through. He just looks at Cas, still not believing that Cas was alive. He’s breathing. He’s back. He didn’t leave me, isn’t gone forever. Dean tears up a little again at that thought.
Of course, Cas notices and stops talking and just tilts his head in that very Cas way of his, squinting.
“ ’s Nothing buddy, it’s just…” Dean looks down and trails off, not being able to say it. But, Cas understands. Of course he does, Cas always does.
He smiles. A small, sad smile.
“Good things do happen Dean.”
Dean looks up, giving a half sob, half chuckle.
Now Dean surges forward and kisses Cas, overwhelmed by his feelings of Love for Cas. Besides, this was long overdue anyway. By 5 fucking years Dean…
The kiss isn’t urgent but slow, deep and intense. It’s full of fear that Cas might’ve been gone forever, relief that he’s back, happiness (giddiness??) that Cas knows just the right things to say that cheer Dean up even if it’s not by a lot it’s the thought that counts and a promise, a promise of more, a promise of later.
And finally, and most importantly, their first ever kiss is full of Love that Dean just couldn’t find the words to express, Dean didn’t want to find the words to express because even a thousand words aren’t enough to tell Cas how Dean feels about him, can’t begin to carry the depth of his love. Besides, actions speak louder than words.
“Hey, babe?” You smiled, walking into the library where Dean was on his laptop. “I made you something to eat.” It was just about lunch time, and wanted to surprise him. Setting the plate down, you hoped that he enjoyed what you made.
His green eyes darted to the plate for a moment before looking back to whatever he was doing. “You use that mustard I like?” He asked simply.
“Yup!” You told him, glad that you had remembered.
“Not bloody, right?”
You shook your head. “No, I’ve gotten pretty good at that. I’ve worked it out to timing it perfectly.” As of late, you hadn’t had any issues with the burgers you made coming out too raw for anyone. “Seasoned the burger with salt and pepper while it cooked, as well.” That was something that you’d learned damn quick to do, as it brought out more flavor.
Turning to head back to the kitchen to clean up, you smiled as Dean picked up his burger and took a bite. “Awe, come on.” He groaned, getting up to walk past you. “Barely any mustard, none of my damn pickles, and could have been cooked a couple minutes longer.”
You let out a soft sigh, hoping that you could do something else to make it up to him.
Dean would never admit it out loud but since he was sleeping next to Cas, he had less and less nightmares. The one time he dared mention it to Cas, the angel only smiled back fondly, glad his human could, at last, get some rest.
Summary: Trapped in the bunker, Dean makes one last phone call before coming to terms with his fate. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 750 Warnings: Feels, very little dialogue. Possibly spoilers; takes place directly after 12x21.
A/N: This is my contribution to @mrswhozeewhatsis‘s Louden Swain Mini-Bang. My chosen song is St. Louis. I don’t know why I had such a hard time putting what was in my brain onto the page; I was trying to go with the spirit of the song. Michelle, if you feel like this doesn’t fit very well, feel free to exclude it from what you give Rob!
While Sam and Toni wasted oxygen arguing about who had caused
their current predicament and came up with useless ideas on how to free them
from this tomb, Dean meandered away from the war room and to his bedroom.
He went straight for the note on his nightstand, the one
that he hadn’t touched or moved since he set it down after reading it the first
I love you, but you’re
wrong. About them. The Brits will kill you and Sam, and I can’t stand back and
watch it happen. I’m sorry.
She had left while he was gone. Had made excuses about staying
back to research, and when Dean returned, before Ketch and not-Mary came and
locked them in this “tomb” to die, she had made her escape. This place that he had called home – and when
she had come along, it felt complete.
The argument they had before she left had been a big one.
Dean let the angry images flow through his mind while he meandered to the
closet and ran his fingers over the few items of clothing she had left hanging
there. They had both said things they shouldn’t have, even if they meant them.
Hell, they had always been so alike in that aspect: meant every single word,
whether those words should have been spoken or not.
They yelled, she shoved chairs, Dean punched a wall. It was
over all of this; she had been so sure that the British Men of Letters were playing
all of them. Dean sided with Sam and Mary, and that’s what had started the
They’re my family.
Honestly, it had been a heated argument up until Dean said
that. Sam and Mary were his family, yes, but so was she. She accepted him for
the way he was and loved him anyway. Even after dancing around it for years,
after trying to stay away from each other, they had finally given up and
accepted that they couldn’t be apart – that they didn’t want to be apart.
But then Dean had said that.
He moved on from the closet to the vinyls he kept in his
room. He selected one and let it drop softly on the player. The opening notes
of “The Rain Song” by Led Zeppelin played soon after. It was their song, one
she had pretended to hate every time he played it, claiming that the song was
far too long. Despite her protests, she would hold his hand and lean against
his chest and let Dean sway her back and forth in the privacy of his room.
He had tried to apologize. He played their song and took her
hand and tried to tell her everything would be fine. In turn, she withdrew her
hand and got into the bed. Shaking her head and mumbling something about him
spending time with his family while he could.
Dean’s normal MO was to push all of this away. To deal with
it tomorrow. He snorted, thinking
about how many times he had attempted to push feelings away until tomorrow.
He had run out of tomorrows.
Finding his phone, Dean dialed a familiar number. The call
went directly to voicemail, as he expected it would. He wasn’t sure what he was
going to say, but when the beep sounded, the words just poured out of him.
“Hey, it’s me. I – you were right. About the Brits. Ketch has brainwashed my mom, Lady Toni what’s-her-face and Sam are arguing in the
war room – oh, we’re trapped in the bunker, by the way. They’ve locked
everything from the outside, they’ve stopped the air pumps. This is it. I’m
going to die in here, and we could have stopped this. We could have prevented
this. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t. And I’m sorry for
what I said. You are family. I know you and me, we say things we mean, even if
we shouldn’t say it, but that was one thing I did not mean. You’re – you’re everything.
When I get off the phone, I’m going back out there with Sammy and that bitchy
Brit, and I’m gonna try to find a way out of this. But in case I don’t – well,
there are some things we don’t say out loud, right?”
He started the record player again, set his phone next to
it, and left the room. Whatever there was left to say, he’d have to let Zeppelin say it for him.
Summary: You and Dean find a small infant while clearing a crime scene. She suddenly becomes the center of the world.
Warnings: mild angst, mention of blood, life-threatening wounds. Dean being his perfect paternal self??
A/N: thank you so much for reading!
You both stood over the crib. Fingers which, only minutes ago, had been poised over their two respective triggers, now lay at rest by your sides. Each of you more wordless than the other. Instead of the monster you’d been expecting, there was a nursery. A soft raspberry-colored room, with accents of pinks and whites. Stuffed animals were spread sparsely throughout the room, and a small bookshelf to the far left held just a few children’s books that’d been read thousands of times to unborn ears.
And here you stood, Dean beside you, as your eyes remained glued to the infant laying inside the confines of the crib. Her parents were gone, torn apart brutally in the early morning. Tragedy had befallen the sweet baby in front of you, and all you could think about was how peaceful she seemed, how innocent and unknowing she was in all of this. Her jaw moved up and down as if she was still sucking on a binkie, and the gentle sound that came from her not-possibly-more-than-two-month-old form melted your heart.
Summary: You’re pregnant and Dean’s being super caring. Sadly, this also means he’s cooking healthy, nutritious food for you and the baby. All the healthy food, for months. Until you’ve had enough.
Word Count: 1100+
Munch. Munch. Munch.
You were stuffing your face with cookies, and ice cream, and pizza. Yes, all three of those. Yes, at the same time.
Sure, a few months ago you would have judged something like this as disgusting, super unhealthy, a great recipe for a heart disease… But, after countless weeks of kale, cabbage, spinach, carrots, lean meat, and lentils… you just didn’t care anymore. You wanted all the junk food, now.
The pregnancy book was staring at you from the table, and you stared back, glared even as your lips wrapped around a spoon of chocolate ice-cream. Take this, you stupid book.
A/N: Get it, babel-yawn? Like Babylon and the Tower of Babel but it’s morning so yawn? And Breakfast at Tiffany’s? But not? Nvm I’ll show myself the door. Also I blame google translate. Hey but you know what’s super? You! And feedback ;)
“Natashaaa! Oh Natty dearest!” you sang as you sleepily waltzed into the kitchen.
Natasha blew a strand of hair out of her face and turned the page of her newspaper, trying to tune you out.
You plonked down onto the seat next to hers and peered over her paper.
Her eyes were cold, but she couldn’t hide the faint smile struggling to appear on her lips.
A/N: This was requested by an Anon! I hope you all love this! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much <3 <3
Being in the bunker with the Winchesters was proving to be a challenge for Chuck. He missed seeing you all the time. Defeating Amara was the only way he could protect you. He was willing to do anything for you. The bunker was one of the safest places on Earth for the time being.
Chuck snapped his fingers without a second thought, bringing you to the bunker. When his eyes fell on you as you stood before him, he could only smile. “[Y/N],” Chuck spoke softly, causing you to turn around.
You spun on your heels facing your husband. A smile immediately spread across your face as you threw your arms around Chuck. “Hey Chuck,” you beamed. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Is everything okay?”
Gif is from Google Search credit goes to its owner.
morning you wake up to your phone buzzing. Eyes closed, you feel around your
nightstand for it and, still half asleep, you answer with a groan. “This
better be good.”
voice like sandpaper covered in honey sends a shiver down your spine.
You shoot up off the bed.
What are you doing?”
“I just woke
up, actually,” you say, your heart racing.
“Hey, well, I
was wondering if you’d like to meet for coffee?”
say, trying and failing to sound cool about it.
Was there a
hint of excitement there too? You wonder.
“Is there a
place you like to go to?”
Bakery on 2nd? Meet you there in an hour?”
“I’ll see you
An hour later
the sweetness of donuts and the sharp smell of coffee hit your nose, mingling
into the familiar smell of Bob’s. Walking to the counter you spot Dean
sitting at a table along the far wall. You wave before putting put in
“Hey,” you say,
coming to stand by the table.
“Hey,” he says,
half rising from his chair.
You sit down,
watching his green eyes watch you. “I
was surprised you called.”
I wrote Sam smut. I needed to cleanse myself with some Dean.
note, congrats Michelle! I’ve been a big fan of yours for a while (fuck, just
check my fic recs tag), and I’m so happy for you!
Fandom: Supernatural Pairing:
Dean x Reader Challenge:
@luci-in-trenchcoats 2k Follower
Challenge x Words: 630
Summary: Dean’s really protective of his baby Warnings: Some swearing, because I can’t control myself Prompt:
New rule. You steal my Baby, you
The club isn’t the best place to find a lover So the bar is where I go Me and my friends doing shots Drinking fast then we talk slow You come over and start a conversation with just me And trust me, I’ll give it a chance
It is the end of a successful hunt–all his bruises and scrapes were hidden under his clothes, no blood got on his shoes (impossible to get out of leather), and no additional victims had been added to the body count. Perhaps low criteria for success, but it is what it is.
And now, it’s time to celebrate.
Dean is well aware that conversations can be conducted entirely through nonverbal communication; he and Sam do it all the time. He didn’t realize, however, that they could be conducted across a crowded bar with a woman he’d never met before, especially after several shots of whiskey.
She’s chatting with a frat boy and damn if she doesn’t look bored out of her mind.
‘Bored?’ his raised eyebrow asks.
‘Getting there,’ her shrug suggests.
‘Need some help?’ says his quick glance at her date.
‘Hell yes,’ replies her enthusiastic nod.
A quick flash of his FBI badge has frat boy gone in a skinny minute. The pentacle tattoo peeking out the low neckline of her blouse and the gun-shaped bulge at her hip starts a verbal conversation that goes ‘til last call.
“Why can’t you be both?” He asked you. “Just because you’ve gained some weight doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful. Who says you can’t be fat and beautiful? Fat isn’t a bad word, Y/N. Not at all.”
You wrapped your arms around him. “Maybe. It’ll take more than just that to feel okay, though. I think I’m going to move back in my old room for a few days. I can’t take sleeping next to him in next to nothing and him not touching me.”
Sam nodded. “Anything you need, sweetheart.”
You cried yourself to sleep in Sam’s arms, and he made sure you were really out before slipping from your arms. After he covered you up, he went to find his brother. He couldn’t stand to see you hurting, and he knew that Dean wasn’t doing this on purpose. Running his hand through his hair, he quietly shut the door. His shirt had a wet spot on it, but he didn’t care about that right now.
Sam found Dean in the library, feet up on the table, leaning back in his chair. The laptop was open on his lap, but from where Sam was, he couldn’t see what his brother was watching. Dean spotted Sam from over the back and shut the top, putting his feet down. “So?” He asked, looking worried.
Sitting, Sam shook his head. “She feels like shit, Dean.” He told him honestly. “Says she doesn’t think you’re attracted to her anymore.” Dean stared at him, confused. “I’m not gonna sit here and tell you word for word what she said, I’m not gonna tell you to go wake her up, but I will tell you that it’s bad enough that she’s moving out of your room for a few days.”
“What?” Dean felt like he was punched in the gut. “Why?”
“Why don’t you let her talk to you?” Sam suggested. “Or maybe think about how you’ve made her feel unattractive.” He added before getting up to get himself a cup of coffee, leaving Dean to think things over.
because somehow, some way, i can predict the most ridiculous aspects of spn years in advance
these aren’t serious, major plot points that i work out. they’re the stupid little things that people tag as “#spn crack” and then they come true
for instance, the poop emoji being used in response to someone being upset. there’re more recent examples that i don’t have right off the top of my head, but i know others have pointed out
in season 11, however, the word “useless” was brought into question, as i’d basically worked up 3 years of what i believed chuck was going to be like when he came back
would you believe it
Gabriel would LOVE a fancy trumpet, though. A heavenly noisemaker? Just think of how annoying that could help him be!
but imagine with me:
you’re 8 years old. it’s christmas morning. you wake up a little late, along with your older sibling who’s, say, 14. under the tree there are two presents left. one that clearly looks like a sword, and a small box.
the box is labeled for you, the other for your older sibling. they unwrap what was clearly a kickass sword. eagerly, you open your own box.
inside is a toy trumpet you don’t know how to play and some socks
your dad claps you on the back and says “imagine the possibilities, kiddo!” and then turns to your older sibling and talks about how cool they are
About your reactions to last night's episode (12x21: There’s Something About Mary)...
We know many of you are pissed off, especially about the first 5 minutes,
(and beyond)…but we feel it’s necessary to remind you:
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Being friend with Sam and Dean Winchester had been the best part of your life. But then they were gone, and you had nothing to distract you from the physical and verbal abuse from your parents. Years pass, and your parents suddenly vanish. When Sam and Dean come help to find them, you aren’t sure what they will do when they discover your dark past.
“Dean?” You breathed out, not even attempting to move away from
his grasp. Just seeing him there made you realize how much you had missed him.
How much he truly meant to you. He looked rough around the edges, with dark
circles under his eyes. It made you realize that you had done that to him. You
had messed with his emotions, made him hurt when you had just been trying to
protect him all along. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I was planning on helping a friend, no, not a friend.
Family. I was planning on helping family with a hunt. But when I arrived at his
motel room, all I could smell was your distinctive perfume. I could see the
guilt on his face, and I knew right away that he had run into you. What I want
to know is what made him not say anything in the first place?” He said softly,
his face carefully schooled to show no emotions.