#katy6kgolden

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Hot Chocolate (and Goddamn Marshmallows)

Dean x Reader

Word Count: ~2530

Warnings: It’s SO FLUFFY. Straight up marshmallow fluff. Just a dash of angst for seasoning. Um. No warnings that I can think of. 

A/N: Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for checkin it over. For @katymacsupernatural​ and her 6K Golden challenge! Congrats Katy! 

“I fuckin’ can’t, man, I barely made it here to begin with, Baby was slippin’ all over the place,” Dean grumbles. He holds the phone awkwardly between his shoulder and his ear so that he can pour another glass of whiskey. He only has half a bottle; if he can’t get out tomorrow, he’s fucked.

Even aside from the alcohol situation, tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. He’s supposed to be at Jody’s, drinking eggnog and doing all the Hallmark bullshit with his family, but if the snow doesn’t stop early… well, fuck that, he’ll find a way. He’s gotta make it back for Christmas. 

“The cabin’s still stocked from the last time we were there, right?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah, I won’t starve to death, at least,” Dean says, trying to keep his voice light. It’s the truth, although the cabinets basically contain black beans, a couple packs of ramen, and some skunked beer. Dean won’t starve, but this is just not how he wanted to spend his night. This Christmas was supposed to be different. 

“Still not gonna tell me what was so important up there?” Sam says. 

“Nope.” 

It’s his own fault, really. Sam told him about the Christmas plan a month ago. It had taken Dean a while to figure out where Mom’s stuff had been stored without Sammy realizing what he was up to, and then their last hunt took longer than they’d expected… it was just one thing after another, and he’d been in such a rush to get up here he hadn’t checked the weather forecast. Typical. 

“Fuck,” Sam sighs. “It’s supposed to let up tomorrow, we’ll mount a rescue mission, okay? Donna’s got four wheel drive, I think.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean says gruffly, and he clears his throat, trying to sound cheerful. How many Christmases has he spent, now, telling Sam not to worry? It’s a Winchester family tradition. “I’ll figure something out. Give everybody hugs for me. Tell Jody she better save me some of that pork roast.” 

“Love you,” Sam says quietly. 

Dean kinda likes the big goddamn marshmallow who’s replaced his brother lately. Amazing what Eileen and a general lack of apocalypses have done for the kid’s temperament. 

“Love ya, Sammy. See you tomorrow, one way or another. Hey, don’t do it without me, okay?” 

Sam laughs at him. “Obviously. Bye, Dean.” 

Dean hangs up and looks down at the little box on the table. As much as this situation fuckin’ blows, Sam’s reaction is gonna be priceless. 

He opens the box again, peeking for the zillionth time before he slips it into his pocket. It’s still surreal to think about that ring on someone else’s hand. Mom stopped wearing it at some point after she came back, and Sam probably assumes it’s long gone. 

He’d said something about how Eileen’s practical, they talked about it, she doesn’t want him to go out and blow a bunch of money on jewelry, they can pick out the actual bands together when it’s time… but Dean’s pretty fuckin’ excited to see the expression on his face. And hers, of course. Practical as she may be, Eileen’s a goddamn marshmallow too. 

Dean’s happy for Sam, he really is. Sometimes he just feels a little lonely, watching the two of them; must be nice, having someone look at you like that. They just kinda fit. They finish each other’s fuckin’ sentences, sometimes, or sign the same things at the same time, moving in perfect unison, and Sam just smiles so much more than he used to. Dean looks at the way they are together and thinks it looks comfortable, like a warm fuzzy fuckin’ blanket, and he’s only just starting to realize that sometimes… sometimes he gets really cold, is all. Sometimes he could use a little more warm fuzzy in his life. 

Like, hey, now, for example. He shivers and drains the last of his glass, pours himself a fresh one, and then he shakes off the melancholy and goes to get a fire started. 

There’s no cable, or anything, but they hooked up an old DVD player to an even older TV a couple years back. Dean finds a stack of dusty DVD cases and shuffles through them, rolling his eyes at the selection. Love Actually? How the fuck did that end up here? 

Or… huh. Now he thinks about it, there’s a chance he might have bought it at the dollar store, one time, while feeling mildly tipsy and severely sentimental. He also has a vague recollection of he and Sam both getting a little bit teared up while watching it. Just a little. 

Dean looks down at his drink and sighs. It’s gonna be a maudlin drunk kinda night. Might as well just put on a chick flick, while he’s at it. He tops up his glass, puts in the disc, throws another log on the fire, and settles onto the massive, squashy couch. 

Fuck his fuckin’ luck, seriously. There’s just this cold, dull ache in his chest that won’t seem to go away, and even though he keeps trying to tell himself that it might end up okay, the snow might stop in time, he can’t seem to shake it. Baby’s not at her best in the snow, what are the odds? He can’t ask Sam to drive however many fuckin’ hours to come pick him up, he won’t ask, and he just wishes a single damn thing would go right, for a change. 

He knuckles at his eyes and pours another drink, but no matter how much whiskey he puts away, he can’t seem to warm up. 

***

About an hour in, as he’s eyeing the whiskey bottle and deciding whether he should just go ahead and polish the thing off, there’s a knock on the door.  

“The fuck,” Dean mutters. He’s stumbling awkwardly to his feet, reaching for the gun he’d put on the coffee table, when the door slams open, letting in a gust of freezing-cold air and a flurry of snowflakes. There’s a figure in the doorway: massive coat, bundled up, and they’re carrying two big paper bags, and Dean blinks stupidly for a second, gun still cocked. 

Is that -

“Holy shit,” he blurts out. He sets the gun down and rushes to help her, but she’s already kicking the door closed behind her, setting the groceries down, and by the time he gets over there she’s unwinding the scarf from around her face so that he can see her eyes, sparkling and happy, her flushed cheeks, her bright smile. 

“Good to see you, Dean,” she says, still breathless from the cold. He wraps her in a bear hug, stunned and speechless. 

“Holy shit,” he says again, eventually, as she pulls away to get her gigantic puffy coat off. There are snowflakes caught in her hair and she’s beaming at him, and she laughs at his look of disbelief; she’s got the cutest fuckin’ laugh, Christ. 

“Little birdy told me you might need some company,” she says. She’s giving him this impish smile and he wants to say something clever, but all he can do is wipe a hand down his face and shake his head. 

“Shit, how’d you even get up here? Roads were bad when I got in.” 

“Maybe for your little Baby,” she grins, shrugging off the big coat and stomping snow off her boots. “But it wasn’t a big deal for the truck. The plows will be out tonight, we can hit the road as soon as the sun’s up. I’d say let’s go now but I hate driving in the dark when it’s snowing. it’s like making the jump to hyperspace, y’know?” 

Dean blinks slowly at her. “Wait, seriously?” 

“You know, when the snow comes at the windshield and it looks- ”

“No, I mean, we’ll be able to get out? You’re really… you don’t have to drive me all that way, shit.” 

“I mean, unless you’re set on sticking around? Got big plans?” She glances pointedly over his shoulder to where Love Actually is still playing, and Dean makes a face, but he’s so relieved he’s getting a little bit choked up. 

“Options were limited.” 

“Hey, you’re in luck. I came prepared.” She grabs her big puffy coat and rummages in pockets until she pulls out a DVD case. Dean’s mouth drops open. 

“Die Hard? You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re my favorite.” 

She rolls her eyes and shrugs it off, but she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet a little, like she’s pleased with herself. “Here, help me with these?”

She picks up the grocery bag and brings it to the kitchen, and Dean trails after her with the second, which (judging by the clinking when he sets it on the counter) is mostly booze. She pulls out a pie, first, one of the supermarket ones in its plastic box. His stomach does a happy little flip-flop, and he has to hug her again. He wraps his arms around her from behind and squeezes hard. Her hair smells the same as he remembers. 

“Did you turn into a marshmallow when I wasn’t around?” she teases, and Dean blushes. 

“Guess it runs in the family,” he says quietly, laughing, and he steps away. 

“Huh? 

“Never mind. I might’ve had a couple drinks. Gettin’ sappy.” He leans against the counter next to her as she starts to unpack more food. “Last I saw you, you were in New York. Are you back in this neck of the woods? You shoulda called!” 

“Just came back recently. I guess Jody heard through the grapevine, she’s the one who called me. My dad died,” she says matter-of-factly. “Been staying at his place trying to get everything sorted out.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” 

She shoots him a little sideways half-smile and pulls out a carton of eggnog, a bottle of Jack, and a bottle of peppermint schnapps. “Thanks. I don’t mind being back, mostly, but I’m glad she called. The holidays have kinda been a bummer this year.” 

“I know how that goes,” Dean says wryly. 

“Yeah. Nice to have something to do. When Jody found out I was gonna be alone she about had a cow, so I guess I’m having Christmas with you guys now. Anyway, I can never say no to rescuing a damsel in distress.” 

She winks, and Dean’s so goddamn charmed right now it takes a second to realize she just called him a damsel. 

“Hey,” he protests. He tries to look affronted, but she’s giggling, so it’s probably not working. 

“Should we start with the ‘nog? Or peppermint hot chocolate?” she muses. 

“Dealer’s choice.” 

“Hot chocolate it is. Boil some water?” 

Dean grabs the old kettle while she peers at mugs, trying to find a couple that aren’t too dusty. He sneaks a glance at her out of the corner of his eye; she’s pretty, Christ, and she’s all pink-cheeked from the cold, biting her lip absentmindedly, and… yeah. Dean maybe can’t stop staring. 

She catches him looking, but she just smiles back, shy and sweet, and starts pouring hot cocoa mix into two passably clean mugs. 

“You never told me what you’re doing up here,” she remarks. “Secret Christmas mission, Jody said?” 

Dean fumbles for the ring box and shows her. “Had to get something out of storage.” 

Her eyes go wide and shocked, and her mouth opens and closes silently for a second. 

“Oh,” she says, voice strained, looking down at her hands. “I didn’t realize you were…” 

“No, not for me!” he says hastily. “God, no. Not for me. For Sam.” 

“Oh!” she says, high-pitched. She laughs and fidgets nervously with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh, okay.”  

Dean doesn’t think he’s imagining the look of relief on her face, and something in his chest goes all fluttery. 

“I am very single,” he says, and he can’t quite manage to keep his tone casual. “Just… to make it clear.” 

She nods, trying to hold back a smile, like she’s laughing at him but also maybe (hopefully) like she’s charmed at the same time. 

“Good,” she says softly. 

***

Dean doesn’t remember falling asleep. When he wakes up, sometime in the middle of the night, it takes him a moment to remember where he is. 

He feels sorta dazed, like maybe he’s still tipsy. That’s normal enough. What’s not normal is the person next to him; they’re curled around each other, fully clothed, and she’s tucked under his arm with her hand resting on his chest. They must’ve dozed off during the movie. Dean smiles to himself. 

The fire’s mostly embers at this point, and he should get up, put a log on, before it dies completely. Maybe he should just go to his room, too; find her a blanket and then give her some space. That’d be the gentlemanly thing to do. 

He takes a second to breathe, first. There’s something so perfect about the moment. He wants to memorize the way she feels, curled against his side, the way they fit together, the way her hair smells, the way her breath tickles his neck when she exhales. He feels boneless and heavy-limbed, like he could melt into the couch cushions, but there’s this tightness in his chest, the knowledge that he should enjoy this while he can, because it won’t last. It never does. 

He’s careful when he gets up, trying to slip away without disturbing her, and he’s quiet as he stokes the fire. When it’s blazing again, he grabs a big quilt from the back of a chair and covers her up, tucking her in gently. He turns to head to bed. 

“Hey, wait,” she murmurs sleepily. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“Where’re you going?” she asks. When he looks back, the fire is illuminating the adorable grumpy pout on her face, and she’s all sleepy-eyed and pillow-creased and fucking gorgeous. 

Dean shrugs. 

“Come back?” she asks. 

He slides under the quilt, and she snuggles close. When she tilts her face up to look him in the eye, her skin glows orange-gold in the firelight. She leans in slow, pausing just before their lips meet, and when they kiss Dean feels it through his entire body, liquid heat curling out to his toes. Her mouth is soft, and she makes this sweet, happy sound when he sucks on her lower lip; it makes his head spin, and he cups her cheek in one hand, feels her velvety skin under his fingers. 

Her lashes flutter when she pulls back, her eyes still half-closed. 

“Go to sleep, Dean,” she whispers. “We’ve got a long drive in the morning.” 

She fits herself against his side, nuzzling into his neck, sighing contentedly, and he strokes her hair until her breathing evens out again. 

He likes the way she fits in his arms, and he likes the sweet smell of her hair all mixed in with the woodsmoke. He likes the weight of her on his chest and the heat of her body against his, the way she’s wrapped around him, the way she’s half draped over him like a living blanket. 

Warm and fuzzy, he thinks, and he’s smiling as he falls asleep.

.

.

.

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[deanwinchesterswitch]

Just Me & My Baby

A/N: Written for @katymacsupernatural​’s 6k follower challenge. The fic is based on the aesthetic that Katy made for the challenge.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam (briefly)

Warnings: Sweet, heart-rending Dean (yes, he’s a warning), flangst, mild language

Word Count: 5785

Summary: There have been a lot of missed opportunities, but one weekend will change everything.

Credits: Dedicated to my editor and friend @cleighwrites​. Thank you for the tough love on this one. Every time we work together, you help me to become a better writer. 

Dean watches you bounce into the kitchen, smile plastered on your face, eyes crinkled at the corners, humming your favorite carol. He can’t help but smile himself, just the sight of you soothing the ragged edges of his soul, temporarily calming the nerves that are making him want to crawl out of his own skin like a shifter. Shuddering at the thought, he turns his attention back to you.

You’re singing softly while you pour yourself a cup of coffee, hips swaying to the music in your head. He’s so mesmerized by your backside that he almost drops the cup in his hand when you belt out the next line of the song at the top of your lungs and turn to face him with a flourish. Laughing, you grab your cup and the pot of remaining coffee and slide across the floor, Risky Business-style, gracefully stopping next to him without spilling a drop. 

“Would you like some more coffee, babe?”

Stunned, all he can do is stare as you continue to smile sweetly, waiting for his answer. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised by the maneuver, every move you make is calculated and precise, yet fluid and lithe. There are times during hunts that you take his breath away with how efficient you are, agile, sometimes putting both him and Sammy to shame with your ability to easily take down whatever big bad the three of you are facing. His thoughts veer to more pleasant encounters where that agility has surprised and delighted him, bringing him to heights he’s never dreamed of before. His tongue presses against the backs of his teeth as he thinks about last night, pounding into your wet heat, your leg bent…

“Earth to Dean.” You’ve set your coffee cup down on the table and are snapping your fingers in front of his face. Letting his cup slide between his fingers to land on the table with a heavy thunk, his eyes flick to yours, and you chuckle. “You okay there, Winchester?”

Snagging your wrist, he brings your fingers to his lips, kissing each knuckle before pulling you between his legs and settling you on his thigh. “Perfect.” Wrapping his arms around your waist, he places a kiss at your temple. “So, you got big plans for us this weekend, huh?”

“Yep, but I’m still not gonna tell ya.” You bop him on the nose. “It’s a surprise.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I have a surprise for you, too,” he teases. 

There’s a rhythm to your movements as you set the pot of coffee on the table then pat his chest, in a placating gesture. “Sorry, baby, it won’t be as good as mine. But I’m sure I’ll love it.”

He smiles widely, licking his lips as you begin to bounce on his leg, singing your carol again. “We’ll see about that, darlin’.”

He loves when you’re relaxed and playful like this, it keeps that small sliver of hope inside him alive; lets him believe that there’s still something worth fighting for, something that matters. Finishing your song, you lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder, fingers playing with the buttons on his flannel.

“Love you, Dean.”

The comforting scents of your shampoo and rich coffee tickle his nose, and he presses his lips into the hair on top of your head, breathing you in as he squeezes your hip. “Love you, too.” You tilt your head back to look at him, and he leans in, capturing your lips with his.

“Morning.” Sam clears his throat as he walks into the kitchen.

Dean hears your soft chuckle as he groans at the interruption, you smile into the kiss, then pull away, and he chases your lips not wanting it to end just yet.

“Where’s the coffee?” Sam grumbles, running his hands through his hair to smooth it out.

“Over here, Gimli,” you chuckle. Then whisper to Dean, loud enough so that Sam can hear, “What a grump.”

“That’s ripe coming from a mini hobbit,” he retorts as he walks toward the table.

Sam reaches for the pot of coffee, and you swat his hand away, sliding the pot out of his reach. “Nope. Sugar first.” You tilt your head up and tap your cheek for Sam to give you a kiss. He leans down, but instead of giving you a kiss, he snatches you from Dean’s lap. You squeal like a little kid as he twirls, spinning you in the air.

Dean shakes his head at the antics, watching the two people he loves the most enjoying a rare moment of fun. When Sam tosses you in the air like a toddler, he lets out a full belly laugh at the expression of angry shock on your face, throwing his head back and briefly closing his eyes. When he opens them again, the two of you are standing side by side, staring at him, mouths agape.

He immediately sits up straighter, feeling self-conscious his eyes dart between you and Sam. “What?”

You’re the first to move, rushing over and throwing your arms around his neck, giving him a tight squeeze and whispering in his ear, “I love you, Dean Winchester.” When you let him go, your eyes are bright, glossy, like you’re about to cry, he reaches for you and you spin on your heel yelling over your shoulder as you race out of the room. “We leave in an hour, you better be ready.”

Dumfounded, he turns to Sam. “What was that about?” Sam just shrugs, averting his eyes as he shuffles toward the table again, sitting opposite Dean.”She looked like she was ready to cry.” Sam’s still avoiding his gaze, and Dean huffs, “Sam, what’s going on?”

“Dude, I think she’s just happy.” Sam pours his coffee and breathes out a contented sigh as he takes the first sip.

Dean knows his brother too well, knows he’s trying to hide something. He tries a different approach. “Do you know what she’s got planned?”

Sam finally looks him in the eye. “No, I don’t.” Dean arches an eyebrow, silently pressing for more. “Look, all I know is that she made me promise not to call with any hunts.” He looks over his shoulder at the doorway, before adding, “Are you still going to ask her?”

The question makes Dean’s pulse jump, just thinking about it makes him break out in a sweat. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulls out the small velvet bag, opens it, and dumps the contents into his hand. He inhales sharply and then puffs his cheeks, before slowly blowing out a breath; a nervous, ‘Yeah’ escapes with the air. He twirls the small emerald and diamond ring between his fingers, the gemstones sparkle in the fluorescent lights. Dean carefully puts the ring back in the bag and then back into his pocket. Raking a hand through his hair, his voice is strained, and he can barely get the words out when he asks, “Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“Hell, yeah.” Sam stands, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he passes him, “If she didn’t love you, she would have left your stubborn, grumpy-ass years ago.”

Sam’s blatant observation puts him at ease, and he smiles at him in thanks. “Bitch.”

Sam nods with his own smile, responds, “jerk,” then leaves the room.

Dean is still smiling to himself as he takes a sip of his coffee and immediately spits it back into the cup. It’s cold as hell and tastes like shit now. Dragging the cup across the table as he stands, he also grabs the coffee pot, taking them both to the sink to clean them out, hands shaking slightly, thinking about the ring burning a hole in his pocket.

He’d had it custom made months ago but never seemed to be able to find the right time to ask you. He wanted everything to be perfect. The weekend he’d planned a couple months back was cut short, Donna and Jody needing an assist on a hunt. So, the ring remained hidden but always close at hand, tucked away in some pocket or other. He felt kind of bad riding on the coattails of the weekend you had planned, but he was tired of waiting, and it might be several more months before he had the opportunity again. Taking a deep breath, he goes in search of you to see if he can find out what’s wrong.

You rush down the hallway to the room you share with Dean, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. Hearing Dean laugh like that broke your heart in two. One side elated that he was still able to express that kind of joy, the other side filled with pain that he rarely had the opportunity to feel that happy, that free. You know Sam had been as stunned as you, instantly setting you on your feet to stare at Dean the same way you had. As soon as you get to the room, you close the door behind you and make a beeline to the closet. You hope the surprise you have for him will give him more chances to feel that kind of happiness.

The warmth you hold in your heart for the stubborn yet sensitive hunter keeps the cold of the concrete at bay as you kneel on the floor to shuffle through the pile of your old clothes in the back corner until you find the present you hid there. Carefully removing the tissue paper from the bag, you pull out the onesie and laugh at the saying you’d had custom printed on it. This is my workin’ in the garage with Daddy shirt with a replica of Baby printed underneath the saying. You swap out the onesie for the card, once again laughing at what is written on the front. Congratulations, you are going to be a great DILF! The tears you’d been holding back finally break free, thoughts of what a wonderful dad he’s going to be swirling in your head. You scoot over toward the desk and open the middle drawer, your hand stretched above your head, blindly rummaging through the contents, finally landing on a pen. You’d been thinking about what you wanted to write in the card since you had bought it the day the doctor confirmed your pregnancy, two weeks ago. The sight of Dean laughing with such abandon solidified what you wanted to say to the man that sacrificed so much of himself to make sure those around him felt safe and loved.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you tuck the card into the envelope, sealing it with a kiss before you put it back in the gift bag, and quickly hide it in your duffle next to the new lingerie you’d bought. You know that Dean will come looking for you soon to check on why you had gotten upset. Cheeks still wet with tears, you swipe them away, then head to the bathroom to wipe away every trace of your emotional outburst and grab the last of the toiletries you’ll need for the trip. As you step back into the bedroom, Dean opens the door, his eyes searching your face for signs of distress.

“Hey, babe. I’ll be ready to go in about ten.” You smile and wink at him, walking over to the bed to put your makeup bag into your duffle. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him cross his arms over his chest and arch an eyebrow. He knows that you know that he’s watching you, and he continues to stare you down until you finally look him in the eye.

“What?”

“You gonna tell me what upset you? Was it Sammy? If so, I’ll talk to him about not teasing you like that.”

“No!” The intensity of his stare makes you blurt out the single syllable louder than you intended.

You saunter over to him, tugging at his forearms until he uncrosses his arms, letting them fall to his sides. The purse of his lips and arch of his eyebrow, let you know he’s expecting a little more information. You arch an eyebrow in return and throw him a coy smile, as you grab his hands and bring them to rest on your hips. As you step closer to him, your hands slide along the fabric of his shirt, fingers splaying across his chest. The steady thump of his heart under your right hand sends a shiver down your spine. You hum softly, breathing in Dean’s unique scent, spice, and gunpowder with undertones of motor oil and leather. The beat of his heart escalates as you push up on your toes and skim your body along his to give him a peck on the cheek before backing out of his hold. “I’m just happy, excited about spending some quality time alone with my hunky boyfriend.”

The complement and suggestive flirting appear to have worked to distract him from his original mission. His tongue is pressed against the backs of his teeth, breaths labored, and eyes fixed on your mouth. His mind has clearly moved on to more carnal places.

Smiling your sweetest smile, you reach for his hand and propose, “Let’s get the car loaded up, shall we?” You’re unable to control your laugh when his smile turns into a pout at your alternate suggestion.

Eight hours later, you walk through the door of the cabin, Dean’s appreciative whistle swirling through the open space. A warm hand comes to rest on your lower back, “Damn, babe, how much did this cost?”

The place is even more beautiful than in the pictures. “Not as much as you’d expect.” A friend of a friend had helped you secure some major discounts on the booking. Christmas lights and greenery are strung throughout the home, a large tree sits in the corner to the left of the fireplace, completely decorated, lights illuminating the large room. Two stockings hang from the fireplace mantle, and on further inspection, you find each of your names embroidered on them.

“There’s something in them,” you gasp, shoving your hand inside.

“Hey, aren’t we supposed to wait until Christmas?” his deep voice admonishes, resting his chin on your shoulder, an arm sliding around your waist.

The small package you pull from the stocking is beautifully wrapped in a blue and silver patterned paper, glittery silver ribbon, and tiny jingle bells adorn the top. You lean back into his chest, pouting. “That’s two days away. We can open one present, can’t we?”

The low rumble of his laughter resonates through you as he reaches around you to pull a similar package from his stocking. “Sure, why not?”

Carefully removing the ribbon from the box, you lay it on the mantle wanting to save it as a memento of this weekend. Inside the wrapped boxes, you find that the rental company has gifted each of you a small box of fancy chocolates and coupons for a discount off your next stay with them. The two of you finish touring the place, eating the chocolates, and oohing and ahhing at all the beautiful details of the cabin and the gorgeous view through the long glass wall to the right of the fireplace.

Afterward, Dean brings in the luggage and gifts, while you make a quick and easy dinner of soup and sandwiches, neither of you has eaten since the quick breakfast you’d stopped for that morning. The kitchen is fully stocked with all the food and ingredients you’d requested, which thankfully meant you wouldn’t need to go shopping during your stay.

The weather has been pretty mild so far, just a smattering of snow and above-average temperatures. You hope it will at least snow tonight since Christmas Eve is tomorrow, but you’re content to stay right where you’re at for now. While you took care of the clean up after dinner, Dean had gotten the firepit on the deck going. The two of you snuggle up next to each other; you comfy in your thick sweater, Dean in his standard t-shirt and flannel, cups of hot chocolate in hand, legs and feet stretched out toward the warmth of the fire.

The cool night air is starting to get to you, so you nudge his shoulder with your head. Dean gets the hint and places his cup on the deck next to his chair to bring his arm up and around your shoulders and tuck you into his side. “Someone sure is needy lately.”

You smack his chest and then rest your hand on his thigh, fingers stroking the worn denim covering his leg. “Can you blame me? You’re like a furnace, my own personal space heater.”

“It’s okay.” Resting his head on yours, his warm breath tickles your ear. “I like it when you get all clingy. It makes me feel needed.”

The last sentence is barely a whisper, and a small whimper escapes your lips; you still the hand on his thigh, giving it a squeeze as you lean away to place your own cup on the deck. Dean scrunches up his face as you stand to face him, his brow furrows, a deep ‘H’ forming in the middle, lips pressed in a thin line. The corner of your mouth quirks, watching him, knowing that he’s trying to figure out what he said to ruin the mood.

Bending down, you straddle his legs and settle into his lap, and his hands instinctively grip your hips. Your hands cup his face, thumbs brush along his brow bone, trying to smooth away the sadness and guilt. You lift his head until his eyes meet yours. “Dean Winchester, I will always need you. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

He drops his eyes, mumbling, “You could do better.”

Righteous anger and sadness war inside you, knowing that there is no one more deserving of love and respect. No one more deserving of happiness. Anger wins, and you flatten your palms against the side of his head, the growl rumbling low in your chest brings his startled gaze back to you.

“Now you listen to me, Winchester,” voice stern and commanding as you continue, “and you make this stone one. There is no one that I will ever need more than you. No one that I want to be with more than you. You and I,” you drop a hand to wave a finger between the two of you, “we work; we’re a team. For me, that will never change. I will love you, always.” Lightly slapping his cheek, you smile. “You got that?”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “Yeah, I got it.” He drags a hand across the back of his neck, sliding it around to wrap his fingers over your wrist. Crisp winter air fills your lungs as you take a deep breath, and you close your eyes as you slowly exhale, reveling in the warmth, the scrape of stubble, the lush softness as he turns to place a kiss on your palm. Your right hand is now resting on his chest, the thud of his heart thrumming a steady beat into your palm, the pace quickens as you roll your hips into him.

Pulling your hand away from his face, he cradles it in his, between the two of you. Fingers ghost the back of your hand, making you shiver in delight. You open your eyes to watch, mesmerized, as his middle finger traces a feather-light trail from the tip of your ring finger to your wrist, making your hand twitch at the sensation when he repeats it. He appears to be lost in thought as you watch his profile. You exhale around his name, “Dean,” voice thick with emotion. “I have something to tell you.”

He hums in response, finger still ghosting across your skin. You take another deep breath and brush your lips against his temple and slide out of his lap. His hand tightens around yours, wide dark eyes darting to your face. He looks upset, frustrated, but you know what your about to tell him will quickly change that.

“Where you going?” he huffs, tugging at your hand.

“I want to give you one of your presents.” His tongue rolls across his sinful lips, leaving a glossy sheen as it retreats back into his mouth and an eyebrow arches in question, making you laugh. “All in due time. I have something that I think will make you happier than that.” You pause, the thought never occurred to you until now, that maybe he wouldn’t be happy about bringing a child into the life. Chewing your bottom lip, you add, “Well, I hope it makes you happy.”

“Nothing makes me happier than making you scream my name,” he laughs, the deep husky one that makes your toes curl.

“Stay here.” Not waiting for his response, you slip your hand from his and race into the house, stopping up short as you reach the tree. You take a couple of deep breaths, shaking your hands at your side, trying to release some of the nervous energy that’s threatening to burst from you like a supernova. One last deep breath and you snatch up the bag, then a glass and bottle of whiskey from the side table, and you force yourself to walk slowly back outside.

The fire is blazing brightly, Dean probably stoked it while you were inside. He looks so peaceful, reclining back in the chair, eyes closed, lips parted in a soft smile, the glow of the fire illuminating his face in a haze of soft yellow and orange. You’d be perfectly content to stand there and stare at him all night.

“Whatcha got there, babe?” The rumble of his raspy voice pulls you back into the moment with a startled squeak.

You take one step and stop, feet rooted in place, heart threatening to leap from your chest, breaths shallow and quick, panic setting in. What if he really isn’t happy about this? What if he pushes you away, asks you to leave the bunker, or worse… Your hands grip tightly around the handles of the bag, trying to push those thoughts away. No, Dean wouldn’t do that. You know he wants to be a dad, an alcohol-filled game of truth or dare had brought that fact to light one evening. 

“Babe, you okay?”

The concern in his voice brings you back into the moment. Taking a steadying breath, you smile hesitantly, tears pooling along your lower lashes. “I- I’m just nervous about this gift. I really, really hope you like it.”

His soft, “Hey,” sends a tear rolling down your cheek, and he reaches for you. “C’mere.”

Feet still cemented in place, you breathe out a heavy sigh, pushing the doubt to the back of your mind and take the last couple of steps over to him. You set the whiskey down next to his chair and place the tumbler over the neck of the bottle; the clink of the glass resonates like a church bell in the distance. He guides you between his legs, setting you sideways on his thigh, a large hand on the small of your back, the other cradling your head against his shoulder. The solid strength and warmth of him immediately calm your jangled nerves, and you hear him laugh as you wipe your tears away with his flannel. Calloused fingers brush along your jaw before he grips your chin, bringing your head up so that he can see your face.

“I will love anything that you give me. OK?”

You sniff and nod your head then hand him the bag. He shifts in the chair, getting comfortable again with you still sitting on his leg. A huge smile spreads across his face as you watch him slowly pull the tissue paper from the bag. His eyes meet yours as he reaches in and pulls out the onesie first. His eyes drop back to the gift, and you watch his face intently as he unfolds the small piece of fabric. 

He chuckles as he reads the saying, smiling at you before looking back at the tiny outfit in his hands, rereading it. You can see the exact second his brain finally registers what it means. Stunned eyes dart back and forth between you and the shirt, mouth agape, he tries to speak and chokes on the words. His throat bobs as he swallows, he scrubs a hand down his face and then looks to you once again. “Are you… does this… are we… ?” A single tear momentarily clings to thick lashes before sliding down his cheek in a grand escape, triggering another release of yours.

Laughing through your tears at his inability to finish a sentence, you nod and whisper, “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

The card forgotten, Dean lets out a thunderous whoop, bounding up from the chair, fists in the air, and sends you sliding down his leg to land on your ass with a heavy thud and a startled squeak. 

“Oh, shit, shit.” He scoops you up, pulling you tightly against his chest, arms trapped at your sides and legs dangling. “Fuck, I’m sorry, babe. You okay?”

Squirming, you try and loosen his grip. “I can’t… breathe.” 

“Damnit, shit, sorry.” He quickly sets you down, sliding down on his knees to kiss your belly. Immediately pulling away, concern spreading across his features as he peers up at you. “Fuck, is that okay? Can I- Can I touch your belly?”

A new wave of tears spill down your cheeks, and you genuinely hope that this doesn’t become a trend for the next eight months. You grip his chin, lean down to place a kiss on his forehead, and you thumb the wetness from his cheek as you straighten back up. “Dean, you’ve had permission to touch me wherever you’ve wanted for years, I’m not going to take that away now.”

He lays his head against your stomach, and you cradle it with one hand, fingers of the other hand carding through his hair. He puts the onesie on the chair and then long, thick fingers slide under the hem of your sweater, bringing the cool air with them, making you shiver as they wrap around your hips, thumbs brushing across the bare skin above the waistband of your jeans. He’s talking to your belly, but it’s too low for you to hear what he’s saying. You tug gently at his hair when there’s a pause, “Dean?” He tilts his head up to look at you, grinning from ear to ear, his face awash in wonder, but you need to hear him say it. “Are you happy?”

His smile falters, as he watches you anxiously chew at your lip, apprehension painted across your features. There’s so much he wants to say to you right now, but can’t get the words past the lump stuck in his throat, a hushed, “Yes,” is all he can manage as his fingers dent into the flesh of your hips. 

It seems to be enough, the smile you give him in return is brighter than the sun at high noon, and right then, he knows this is it. There is only one thing that could make him happier than he’s ever dreamed possible. Slipping a hand from your waist, he struggles to get his fingers inside his jeans pocket. Just as he begins to pull the small bag free, you squeal loudly, and the next second you’re gone from his grasp, the moment lost.

A frustrated groan passes through gritted teeth, and he slumps back on his heels, watching as you rush to the railing, yelling excitedly over your shoulder, “Did you see that?”

“See what?” he replies, running a hand through his hair.

“A shooting star!” You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, turning your head to apparently follow the path the star had taken. Resigned, he stands, tucking the small package back into his pocket, laughing as another squeal reaches his ears. “C’ mere, look.” You frantically wave your hand behind you, eyes focused ahead. “Hurry up.”

He cages you between his arms as he steps up behind you, placing his hands on the railing, eyes following the direction in which your finger is pointing, he squints to try and make out what you see. “What is it?”

“The clearing, over there, are those foxes?”

He leans over your shoulder to get a better look, “Yeah, I think they are.” 

You spin in the small space between his arms, jumping up and down, hands excitedly drumming on his chest. “Let’s go.”

Confused, he furrows his brow. “Go where?”

“To the clearing, it looks so beautiful. Let’s go check it out.” Still drumming your hands against his chest, you tilt your head and pout, “please,” drawing out the word. 

Damn, he never could resist that pout, and now that you’re going to be the mother of his child, he knows he’ll never be able to say no to you again. Shit, he’s so fucked. 

“Alright, alright.” He looks to the sky, raising his hands in surrender, and then places them over yours, flattening them against the fabric of his shirt to stop the beating. 

He looks down at you, shakes his head, and then stills, eyebrows arching and lips parting in wonder. The moon is bright, high in the midnight sky, the chilly winter air giving sharp focus in contrast to the ethereal halo of blue and silver the moon casts around you. Stunning, all other thoughts fade into the background. He’s always seen you as beautiful, but right now, you are breathtaking; cheeks flushed, eyes bright and clear, lips begging to be kissed; the mother of his child.

Then you smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, and his heart swells as the realization hits him that a piece of paper and a ring on your finger isn’t going to change anything between the two of you. He’s never going to stop needing you, stop worrying about your safety, stop loving you. He’d still like to make it official, especially now, but he can wait, content in the knowledge that you love and need him just as much. 

You squirm against him, trying to bring his attention back to you. The first brush of your fingers across his bare skin, as you slide them under his t-shirt, makes him yelp in shock at how cold they are. “OK, darlin’, time to go inside.” The drop in temperature had gone unnoticed, apparently by the both of you, too caught up in the events of the evening. Goosebumps pebble his skin as your fingers continue to roam his torso, he slaps his hands over yours again, stilling their movement. “Stop,” he laughs.

The chilly tip of your nose presses against his skin as you push up on your toes to snuggle into his neck, your heated breath, a stark contrast as it fans his ear. “But I want to go to the clearing.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “But first, we need to get you warmed up. Can’t have my baby momma gettin’ sick.” You pull back to stare at him, mouth agape, eyes unblinking. His whole body tenses, eyes locked with yours, mind racing, waiting for a cue from you as to what he needs to do. The corner of your mouth quirks up, and then you burst out laughing. He lets out a sigh of relief, nervously laughing with you but not sure what about.

“Well, that’s gonna take some getting used to.” A hand slips from beneath his shirt to gently rub your belly. The sharp intake of your breath sounds like you’ve been punched in the gut. You jerk your other hand free, slapping it over the other one, pressing it into your stomach, and dropping your gaze. 

Moments later, your wide, panic-filled eyes meet his, “I- I’m going to be a mom. I don’t know how to be a mom. What are we gonna do? Fuck.” 

He doubles over in laughter at the shock plastered on your face. “Babe, did you not think about that before? I mean, if I’m gonna be a dad, then obviously, you’re gonna be a mom.”

“No. Yeah. Not really.” You puff out a loud breath, your eyes darting around the deck, before focusing back on him. “I was so caught up in telling you and how you were going to feel, and then we had those back to back hunts, that I haven’t had time to really process it.” Tears well up, and you blink, sending them cascading down your cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, shh.” He slips an arm around your back and one behind your legs, bringing you to his chest. You curl into him, a hand fisting in his flannel. “Son of a bitch.” The chilliness of your forehead steals the warmth of his lips as he presses them against your skin, he can smell the frigid air of winter in your hair, can feel just how cold you are now, and curses himself for not realizing it sooner. “I gotcha,” he murmurs against your cheek. 

Once inside, he lays you on the couch, covering you with the heavy wool blanket that was draped over the back, cursing again as he watches you shiver. Cold fingers grip his hand as he turns away, “Don’t go. Need my s- space heater.” 

He chuckles and slides your hand back under the blanket, then tucks the edges tighter around you. “Just going to put out the firepit and bring our things in, okay?” You nod, and he places a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll be here.” You blow him a kiss and smile as you close your eyes.

He makes quick work of dousing the fire and gathering the discarded cups of hot chocolate, and the forgotten bottle of whiskey and tumbler. Not wanting to accidentally spill any of the liquid on his present, he takes the dishes inside first and then steps into the cold night air one more time to collect the best gift he’s ever received. He’s the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. Clutching the tiny outfit to his chest, he lifts his eyes to the heavens, praying to the only angel he believes in, asking him to watch over his growing family and help keep them safe. A swirl of frosty air nips at his skin, and he opens his eyes just as a star shoots across the night sky. 

“Thanks, Cas,” he whispers as he turns to step back inside.

Taglist: @cleighwrites​, @crashdevlin​, @wayward-and-worn​, @weepingwillowphoenix​, @amanda-teaches​, @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​

[atc74]

New Traditions

Square(s) Filled: Christmas for @spnbromentbingo, Family for @spntfwbingo

Warnings: Snowstorm, fluff, Dean being domestic, Sam being shy, implied smut

Summary: Dean and Sam arrive in Sioux Falls to spend their new Christmas Tradition with Jody, the girls, and Donna. 

Pairing: Dean x Donna, Sam x Jody

Word Count: 1485

Written for: @spnbromentbingo, @spntfwbingo, and @katymacsupernatural 6K Golden Christmas. I choose the aesthetic below. Katy, thank you and congrats!

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches

Looking for the next level fan experience? Check out Dean, Sam, Donna, and Jody here from @scentsfromthebunker!

Dean scowled as he looked at the road ahead of them. He glanced sideways at his brother, sleeping against the cold, frosted over window. “I know, girl. Not much longer, I promise.” 

“Dude, are you seriously talking to your car?” Sam yawned, stretching his long limbs as best he could in the confined space of Baby’s front seat. 

“We hate the snow, it’s why we live in Kansas!” Dean retorted, turning his attention back to the snow covered highway. 

“No, we live in Kansas, because that is where the Men of Letters built their super secret bunker,” Sam corrected him. 

“Whatever, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They were only about five miles from the Sioux Falls exit to Jody’s. She had decided a few years back that they all needed something to look forward to, so she started a new Christmas tradition for her little hunter family. For one solid weekend, they took three days of uninterrupted family holiday fun. Unless a nearby case popped up. Fortunately, they had been lucky so far. 

Dean pulled into Jody’s drive just as Donna was backing out. She rolled down her window and greeted the Winchesters. “Heya boys. Just heading into town to get a few extras to get us through the weekend. Wanna tag along?” 

“Sure, why not?” Dean shrugged, pulling Baby into the empty garage. They climbed from the car, Sam grabbing their bags and Dean heading to Donna’s truck. 

“This is a sweet ride, Donna. Don’t get me wrong, I love my Baby more than anything, but her rear wheel drive is less than desirable in these conditions,” Dean commented as he buckled up. 

“I’m from Minnesota, Dean. Anything less than four wheel drive is undesirable!” she snorted, kicking the truck into four by four and rolling down Jody’s street. 

With extra groceries, extra liquor and extra Christmas movies, Dean and Donna returned to Jody’s around sunset and a couple extra inches of snow later. “It’s really coming down out there!” 

“They’re predicting a polar vortex now,” Jody commented, pulling a roast from the oven. “Up to ten inches total, then the bottom is supposed to fall out tomorrow afternoon, dropping temps into the mid twenty below range.” 

“This is how much we love you, Jody,” Dean laughed, bringing dishes to the table. “Braving the weather to spend the weekend with you.” 

“Hey!” Donna piped up. 

“With all of you,” Dean corrected himself. 

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“Alex is working overtime at the hospital, and Claire was on her way back from a hunt in Montana when the storm hit. I told her to stay put and booked her a nicer hotel,” Jody commented as she brought the roast to the table. “So looks like it’s just us.” 

“Sorry, the girls can’t be here, Jodes,” Donna empathized with her friend, knowing how important her adopted daughters were to her. 

“Hey, it’s not like they ditched, life happens. We know all too well,” Jody smiled warmly at her guests. 

Over a hearty meal. Donna filled them in on the small town happenings of Hibbing. Sam and Dean took turns telling the ladies about their last few hunts, and Jody gave them updates on the girls. With the exception of talk of ganking monsters, it was as close to a normal meal they got. 

With the dishes soaking and nightcaps poured, Jody led her guests down to the recently finished basement. 

“Jody, this is awesome!” Dean marveled as he explored the newly done space. A fireplace, wall mounted TV and bookshelves took up one side, with a large sectional sofa. She added three spare bedrooms as well, always wanting to have room for an unexpected guest. 

“Thanks, Dean,” Jody replied. She showed them their rooms then headed back upstairs to finish the dishes. 

“I’ll give you a hand,” Sam offered, flashing a shy smile. 

~*~

The next morning arrived with a foot of fresh snow, blanketing her yard in crisp white. Jody and Sam enjoyed a cup of coffee before starting breakfast. 

Jody tiptoed back up the stairs after trying to rouse the two still sleeping hunters, showing Sam the evidence she captured on her phone. “They look so cute!” 

“He looks happy, even asleep. They both do,” Sam smiled. Dean had made a bed of sofa cushions on the floor in front of the fireplace, his arm wrapped tightly around Donna. “Wish I would have thought of that. Give you a little romance for once.” 

“I don’t need romance, Sam Winchester, I just need you,” Jody proclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Quit making out like teenagers, you’re gonna burn the bacon!” Dean rushed to the stove. “Heathens don’t appreciate bacon.” 

Jody blushed, having been caught by Dean. Not like what she and Sam had was a secret, they just hadn’t told anyone. Donna gave her a wink, pouring two cups of coffee. 

Sam was quieter than usual during breakfast, concentrating on his egg whites, when Dean started chuckling. “Hey, it’s not a big deal, guys. We’re all adults. It’s about time we get some from someone that understands the life. Am I right, Don?” 

Jody almost choked on a piece of fruit and Sam looked mortified. Donna leaned toward his chair next to her. “That was more than some. You were rocking this D-Train all night.” 

“Okay, okay! We don’t need details!” Sam scoffed. 

“Hey, if we can’t talk about it, we shouldn’t be doing it, right?” Jody looked at Sam expectantly. 

“I’m cool talking about sex, but I don’t want to talk about the details of our sex life. That’s just for you and me,” Sam softened, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he rose from the table. “I’m not a pig like Dean.” 

“Hey, I’m not a pig, you prude!” Dean grunted. 

“You eat enough bacon, you might be part pig,” Donna giggled, trying to lighten the mood. 

~*~

Dean and Jody worked most of the afternoon, putting together a feast for an early dinner. Donna had gone to the hospital to pick up Alex when her car wouldn’t start. They arrived just in time to sit down to eat. 

“This is incredible, Jodes!” Donna gushed over the spread in front of them. Ham, cheese covered potatoes, green beans, broccoli, salad, and pie. 

“Actually, Dean did most of this,” Jody acknowledged as she passed dishes. “Thank you for cooking.” 

“I don’t get a chance to cook much, not when it’s just the two of us,” Dean commented. “I won’t ever get the apple pie life, but this is close.” He looked up, meeting Donna’s gaze, giving her a small smile. 

“A beast in the bedroom and you can cook? You’re a man of many talents, Dean Winchester,” she giggled quietly. 

“Well, that’s more information than I needed after a thirty-six hour shift,” Alex sassed, finishing her meal quickly and excusing herself to shower and sleep for a week. 

“I stopped on the way back and grabbed a treat,” Donna shot up from her chair, heading into the kitchen. “Dean? Can you give me a hand?” 

They returned several minutes later, Dean’s hair sticking up and Donna’s face flushed. Each of them carried two glasses. “We made eggnog!” 

“Is that a euphemism? Please tell me this is just eggnog,” Sam groaned, taking a glass from his brother. 

“Shut up, bitch.” 

“Jerk.” 

“Hey, it’s Christmas!” Jody scolded, raising her glass. “To good food and great friends.” 

“To family,” Sam smiled at her from across the table. 

“To hope,” Donna blushed, looking into her drink when Dean caught her eye. 

“To a whole year of no one dying,” Dean raised his glass. 

“Dude,” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Boys,” Jody interrupted. “Thank you all for being here. I’m lucky to have each of you. Now, it’s time for gifts!” 

Everyone passed out their gifts, taking a seat around the fire and taking turns opening. Dean smiled, looking around the circle. He and Sam never really celebrated Christmas when they were growing up, their Dad often gone on a hunt. But since meeting Donna and Jody, the tradition had grown and now it felt natural to just be in the moment, enjoying it for as long as it lasted. 

With his brother on one side and Donna curled into him on the other, they sat back with their eggnog and popcorn, Home Alone playing quietly on the television. 

Dean pressed a kiss to the top of Donna’s head as she snuggled in a little deeper. “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals,” she giggled, not as asleep as he thought. 

Jody and Sam joined in and Dean couldn’t stop himself any longer as he started laughing along with the others. Maybe it was the eggnog, maybe it was the normalness, but Dean felt at peace for the first time in maybe forever. Maybe Christmas miracles can happen, even for salty hunters.

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @meganwinchester1999​ @cherrycokegirls1​ @closetspngirl​  @roxyspearing​ @flamencodiva​ @blacktithe7​ @sis-tafics​ @just-another-busyfangirl​ @evansrogerskitten​ @amanda-teaches​ @hannahindie​ @wotinspntarnation​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @winecatsandpizza​ @kickingitwithkirk​  @wi-deangirl77​ @hobby27​ @mogaruke​ @gh0stgurl​ @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid​ @seenashwrite​ @crashdevlin​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @emoryhemsworth​

The Dean’s List/Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @maddiepants​  @adoptdontshoppets​ @supernatural-jackles​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @akshi8278​

The Sam Sin-dicate / Jared’s Menagerie: @supernatural-jackles​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​

[amanda-teaches]

Christmas Time

Summary: You arrange a little Christmas getaway for Dean with a little dancing and a whole lotta loving.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 528

Warnings: Implied smut

A/N: This is for @katymacsupernatural​ 6K Golden Aesthetic Challenge. The song in the fic, “Christmas Time” by Hanson, was suggested by my beautiful name twin, @pinknerdpanda​. This is her all time favorite Christmas album, and I loved it the second I heard it, so thanks for turning me onto it, babe!

“Everybody needs a little lovin’,” he hummed against your ear, the low growl sending vibrations cascading down your left side and shivers running up and down your spine. “Around Christmas time…”

He pulled you closer, his chest brushing against yours, once and then twice, your intertwined hands getting deliberately caught in the middle. “Somehow you got to know you're going to be all right.” His hand was strong and hot against the small of your back, his lips dropping to your neck with a soft moan.

“Do you remember how it used to be,” he sang, his voice rising ever so steadily, your heartbeat quickening to match its climb. “Sitting under the Christmas tree? Oh, oh, ohhhhh. In your heart you'll find the seasonnnnn!”

You laughed, carefree and happy, as he spun you around the room, swinging you back and forth as he sang his heart out to the song. Who would’ve thought “Snowed In” by Hanson was Dean’s guilty pleasure, need-to-dance-it-out album? Certainly not you. Although, you figured the almost empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the small, motel-room table had more than a little to do with it, too.

You chuckled as he spun you again, stumbling slightly in a ruse to pull you even closer. “Dean, what’re you doing?”

He grinned, slow and easy. “Dancin’. What’s it look like?”

“It looks more like falling,” you laughed, bringing your hand up to brush the hair out of his face.

His grin turned devilish. “Oh, I’ll show you falling, baby.” And, before you could even blink, his hold against your back tightened, bringing your feet up off the ground. He carried you, playfully flailing, until you both fell backward on the bed, his body trapping yours under his. He looked down at you again and winked, his smile widening. “That better?”

“You’re such a dork,” you groaned, but there was a smile in your voice that let him know you loved it. Carefully, you wiggled out from under him, moving higher up on the bed until your head was resting against the pillows. The bed was shaped like a stagecoach, perfectly completing the Western-themed room you’d arranged as a late Christmas present for Dean, a present which he whole-heartedly enjoyed.

Determined to show you how much, he moved with you, climbing up your body like a tiger until his face was hovering just above yours. “Oh, I’ll show you dork, baby.”

His lips dropped back to your neck, sucking long and hard now, his hands moving towards your hips with a newfound urgency. You arched your back, begging for more, and pulled his head up towards yours, your hands entangling in his hair while your lips met his.

As the kiss deepened and his hands moved lower, the song continued to play in the background, permeating the edges of your subconscious, and you smiled against his lips.

Everyone needs a little loving around Christmas time

Somehow you got to know you're gonna be all right

Do you really remember how it used to be

Sitting under the Christmas tree?

In your heart you'll

Find the season

Oh, reach down inside your heart

And see all the love

Forevers- @hamartiamacguffin​ @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester​ @katymacsupernatural​ @impandagrl​ @cyrilconnelly​ @impala-dreamer​ @castielhasthetardis​ @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes​ @be-amaziing​ @jalove-wecallhimdean​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @mysterious-398​ @hannahindie​ @emoryhemsworth​ @ohmychuckitssamanddean​ @wi-deangirl77​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ @ericaprice2008​ @masksandtruths​ @roxyspearing​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @sweetpeamoose​ @babypieandwhiskey​ @deans-dirty-writer​ @roxy-davenport​ @heyitscam99​ @starry-chaos @spnbaby-67​ @mogaruke​ @atc74​ @dolphincliffs​ @closetspngirl​ @maddiepants​ @pinknerdpanda​

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[plaid-lover-bay25]

I Promise

Pairing: Jared x Reader, Arlo

Summary: Jared makes it home early for Christmas and decides to decorate your apartment but is that the only surprise he has in store?

Word Count: 2164

Warnings: Christmas fluff, a little fighting but all is resolved

A/N: This was written for @katymacsupernatural​‘s 6k Golden Challenge! This was a struggle, trying to get back into writing. I hope yall enjoy.

Masterlist        Jared Masterlist

 Christmas music blasted through the speakers as you unlocked your front door and stepped inside. You hadn’t been expecting Jared back in town until later that day but here he was happily setting up a tree in your living room. 

  “Jay! How did you get in here?” you questioned loudly as he turned his bright smile on you.

He rushed over and kissed you happily. “I had a little help from Santa’s elf.”

  You rolled your eyes as you figured out that your mom had come and let him in to your small townhouse. Hugging him tightly, you couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you.

  “Merry Christmas, baby.” Jared sang along loudly.

  The giggles began as you watched your boyfriend dance around the room goofily while still decorating. 

  “So, what are we doing today?” Jared asked as the two of you lazily laid in bed.

  You had just woken up to a warm body next to you and remembered he was back. “I don’t know.” you responded sleepily.

  “Don’t you need to go check on Arlo?” 

  Jared nuzzled closer to you and you could feel the stubble beginning to grow longer on his cheeks. “I checked on him before I came over yesterday. He is currently having a sleepover at his uncle Jensen’s house.” 

  You could only imagine what JJ was putting your favorite dog through. He was so good with her but you knew the clips and bows might get to him eventually. “How about we go pick up my favorite guy and we can go take a walk downtown through the lights.”

  “Your favorite guy, huh?” Jared fake pouted.

  “My favorite furry guy,” you smiled as he messed up his hair. “But you are kind of furry yourself.”

  “Really now?” Jared questioned as his hand began to tickle up your side. “You’ve never complained before.” 

  Your laughs echoed out into the hall as tried to get away from his giant hands. “Stop. I was kidding.”

  Jared stopped just as he captured your lips. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and pulled you into him. You desperately missed him while he was away. This only made it worse. 

  He finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and a little dazed. “I’m gonna have a shower, you coming?”

  Arlo was happy to see both of you as you arrived at Jensen’s place. Jared even grumbled over how his dog chose you to lick before him. The three of you were now downtown and enjoying the lights in the not so chilly Austin. Jared held Arlo’s leash in one hand and squeezed yours with the other. 

  Jared’s beanie somewhat concealed his identity but you knew that people would soon recognize him. You took advantage of anonymity for a little longer as you made your way into a little Christmas market. 

  You and Jared browsed through the handmade gifts and foods as you swapped ideas for Christmas presents for friends and family. 

  “Jare, your mom would love this!” you excitedly held up a set of hand carved wooden utensils. It was a set of ten different serving and mixing spoons along with different spatulas. 

  “I got her something already but I think she would love those.” he winked at you.

  As the three of you left the market, carrying your purchases, Jared was finally spotted. The fans asked for a few pics and Jared was all too happy to oblige. He tried to get you to take the picture but the fans were adamant that you were included. Surprised, you joined their group with Arlo in toe as a passerby snapped the photo.

  After spending a few days at your place you figured Jared would want to go home. “We can go tomorrow.”

  “Christmas Eve? We can stay at your place on Christmas Eve?”

  Jared nodded. “Yeah.”

  You sent him a quizzical look. “Baby, your place isn’t even decorated.”

  “We can do it tomorrow. I don’t have much anyway.” he shrugged. “Just a small tree.”

  You were very confused now. Jared had spent all that time decorating your place and then wanted to wake up to a tiny tree on Christmas day. 

  You let it go as the two of you finished making cookies for the Ackles family Christmas party the next day. The two of you had been invited over to join in the festivities.

  You both had slept in after a long night at Jensen and Danneel’s. Jared was the first up and started coffee for the both of you. Arlo was stretched out on the bed next to you as you woke.

  “Yep, you’re definitely my favorite.” you scratched behind his ears.

  Arlo gave a quick yawn and then sniff. He slowly rose from his spot and gave one long stretch before jumping from your bed. You watched his tail disappear before you finally got up yourself. 

  Jared drug you around town all day after a visit with your mom. He apparently thought decorating his place wasn’t priority. You huffed as he pulled you into another shop for nothing in particular. 

  You pulled on his hand as the sky went from darkening to almost black. “I’m tired. I want to go home.”

  “Oh.” Jared realized you were irritated. “We’ll go home. Just give me a sec.”

  “No, Jared. I want to go to my home.” you pouted.

  Jared’s face dropped. “Oh. Well…” he stopped. 

  “We didn’t go decorate like you said and tomorrow morning we’re going to wake up to nothing.”

  Jared watched as you grew more upset. “So I just want to go home. I’m sorry.”

  Your arms were crossed over your chest and you looked about in tears. “No, I’m sorry.” he admitted.

  “I should have thought about it.”

  You dropped your arms at that. You didn’t want to fight. “It’s okay. I just want to wake up to a good Christmas with decorations.”

  Jared smiled down at you. “It’ll be good even without decorations.”

  “I know.” you shrugged. “But you worked hard on my living room.”

  He pulled you close and quietly asked. “Can we please go to my place? I have a surprise and I don’t want to ruin it.”

  You looked up at his face as difficult as it was. You could see the sincerity written all over it. Jared just wanted you to be with him.

  “Okay,” you agreed, “but we have to go get Arlo and all the gifts from my place.

  Jared smiled brightly. “Already there.”

  “What?” you pushed away from him.

  “Everything is already there.” his dimples shown through the scruff as he looked down at you.

  Your smile broke across your lips. “You really are made of surprises.”

  “No, no, you have to close your eyes.” Jared commanded as he quickly covered your eyes with his hand. 

  “Jared!” you stumbled a little. “I’m gonna fall.”

  “I won’t let you.”

  Suddenly, you were being led up the walk to his house, gently coaxed through the door and slowly pulled up the stairs.

  “Why can’t I see the downstairs?”

  Jared opened his bedroom door. “It’s a surprise.”

  You were finally released and you squinted against the light in his room. The bedroom light wasn’t on but there were string lights hung up around the room. Stars dangled brightly from the ropes and you smiled.

  “Babe,” you sighed as you took in the mood lighting, “It’s beautiful.” 

  Jared smiled triumphantly. “Come on, beautiful, let’s go to bed before Santa gets here.”

  Jared’s wink sent you into a fit of laughter but his lips soon extinguished it. 

  “You better wake up before I open all the gifts without you.” was whispered in your ear. 

  Your eyes opened blearily. “Go back to bed.”

  “(Y/n), it’s Christmas morning. Come on.” Jared pulled your arm a little.

  “You’re a child.” you groaned. 

  Jared’s bright smile made you reciprocate as you finally crawled from bed. “Gonna make coffee. Come down when you’re ready.”

  He kissed your temple before leaving the room. You spotted a santa hat laying at the foot of the bed and threw it on before heading downstairs. 

  You were surprised to see rope lights wrapped around the bannister, slowly changing from red to green to gold and back to red. As you made your descent you could see more decorations scattered around the foyer. A simple yet beautiful wreath hung next to the door and a small, snowy village was stationed at the entry table. 

  As you finally made it to the bottom of the steps the den appeared with its glistening lights and enormous tree. It was a real tree and fully decorated. Shiny baubles and golden bows adorned its branches. Your mouth stood open and you were almost in tears.

  Jared appeared around the corner with a mug in each hand. “You like it?”

  “What the hell, Jared?”

  He laughed loudly. “I had a team come in and decorate.”

  “Is that seriously a real tree?”

  Jared nodded and set down the mugs. “Yeah, I know you never had a real one while growing up. Figured we could do it right this year.”

  You were now openly holding back tears. “Jare, baby, you didn’t have to do all this.”

  “But I wanted to. I know you need a good Christmas. It’s been rough.”

  You thought back through the year, losing your job and struggling to find another. Your mom’s health going down hill. It had been a little too much.

  “Thank you for all of this.”

  Jared smiled. “No need for thanks.”

  You fell into his arms and squished yourself as close to him as possible. “I think it’s time for presents.”

  “Agreed.” Jared said as he held you against him. “Me first.”

  You had opened a few boxes of books and a new sweater. Jared had received new headphones and a handmade scarf. 

  “I have a special one. Close your eyes.” Jared demanded.

  You sat and waited patiently as Jared told you to put out your hands. His hand covered your eyes again and he placed a small box in your open palms. 

  "Okay. Open.“ He commanded brightly.

  His hand was removed and you opened your eyes to find a white box with a small bow. You pulled off the lid to reveal a silver circle.

  "Oh, a key ring.” You stated.

  "Not just any key ring. The best one for this.“ Jared produced a key and dropped it in the box.

  You studied the key for a moment, wondering what it meant. "Will you move in with me?”

  The surprise shocked you into silence. Jared awaited your answer and grew weary with your non response. “Only if you want to. I know I’m not home much. Arlo would be more comfortable here with you than traveling with me all the time.”

  You quitted Jared’s rambling with a kiss. “I would love to move in with you.”

  The smile that broke across his face made your heart beat faster. His lips met yours again in a more heated kiss. As he pulled away there was another box in his hands.

  "What’s this?“

  "Something that is almost as beautiful as you.”

  You opened the small box and found another inside. You looked into Jared’s eyes and started to shake your head.

  "It’s a promise.“

  You pulled the box from within and slowly opened its lid. The circle of metal sat delicately inside its place. A small stone sat atop, reflecting its light into the room.

  "It’s beautiful.”

  Jared removed the ring and reached for your right hand, not your left. He gently slipped the ring into place and squeezed your hand. 

  "I promise to love you and cherish you until you don’t want me anymore. I promise to do my best to take care of you and to never let you down. I promise to never give up on us no matter what life throws our way. I promise to love you through everything. Always.“

  You watched as he kissed your hand and then let it go. You admired the small ring and knew what you would do next would be well received. 

  "I have something for you too.”

  Your box was a little smaller but you reached for it under the tree. As you handed it to him, you asked him to sit on the couch with you. He opened the box and peeked inside.

  "What’s this?“ He looked up but didn’t see you. Looking down he spotted you kneeling on the floor.

  "Jared, will you marry me?”

  "Seriously?“

  "Yeah, seriously.” You smiled.

  He huffed. “But I’m supposed to do that.”

  "Sorry, baby. I stole your thunder.“

  He smiled and reached for you. "Yeah, I guess I’ll marry you.”

  "You guess?“ You giggled. "It better be more than a guess.”

  Later that day you posted a photo you had snapped of Arlo and Jared. The two were snuggling on the floor at home and Jared was smiling in content.

  “My two guys. My favorite furry companion and my future forever.💍”

forever tags:  @impalaimagining​ @hetaliameow​ @myfand0msandm0re​ @justjessiehere​ @pinknerdpanda​ @grace-for-sale​​ @goldenolaf25​​ @high-functioning-sociopath8​​ @authoressskr​​ @waywardasfudge​ @cassieraider​ @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester​ @drakelover78​ 

[katymacsupernatural]

Katy’s 6K Golden Challenge

Wow!! I can’t believe it happened, but it did. I have 6,000 wonderful followers! That is huge and amazing, and I am grateful to each and every one of you!!

In honor of this occasion, I have decided to host a challenge!! I have created 10 aesthetics, mostly Christmas related. There is Sam/Jared or Dean/Jensen. If you want a Cas/Misha, let me know and we can make that happen.

All you have to do is pick an aesthetic that I made, and write a fic about it! Super simple, right? 

Here are the rules:

Due Date is January 7th

Word Count: More than 500 words if possible

No more than 3 people per aesthetic 

Send me an ASK with your first choice, and your second, please

You can either save the aesthetic from this page, or I can send you the original. Let me know in your ask, please. 

You get to pick if it’s Dean or Jensen, Sam or Jared

WHEN POSTING TAG ME ALONG WITH USING #KATY6KGOLDEN

Pics are after the keep reading:

Here they are: 

#1 @docharleythegeekqueen

#2 @crispychrissy​ @plaid-lover-bay25  

#3 spnbaby-67 @melbelle45 

#4 ( @mlovesstories​)

#5 @zombiewerewolfqueen​

#6 @waywardnerd67 @horsegirly99 

#7 @superbadassnatural @focusonspn 

#8 @amanda-teaches​

#9  @there-must-be-a-lock @deanwinchesterswitch 

#10 @abbessolute​ @atc74​ @alleiradayne 

[alleiradayne]

Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animals

Summary: Sam and Dean watch Home Alone as they near Christmas. Warnings/Tags: All sorts of Floofs, funtimes, brotherly moments. Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Word Count: 1,188 A/N: For @katymacsupernatural​‘s 6k Golden Challenge, I picked image #10.

“Okay, after binging all of Die Hard in three nights,” Sam started as he slumped into his chair. “Can we lighten up the mood a bit?”

From across the table, Dean’s flat stare caught him off guard.

“What?”

“Don’t you ever speak ill of Die Hard ever again,” Dean ordered. He shifted in his chair to reach for his beer and set the popcorn down in its place. “Tonight’s no less epic.”

A pointed press of the remote started the movie, and Sam leaned back in his chair as the dark screen illuminated with blue text. Sam recognized the curious strings and low, thrumming brass without a second thought, John Williams’ score beyond notorious. As the focus pulled back from the tiny blue silhouette of the house, he grinned.

“Home Alone?”

“You’re god damn right, Home Alone.”

Behind the bowl of popcorn, Sam picked up a cookie from the array they had taken the time to decorate earlier that day. “This was a great idea. We needed a break.”

Dean shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth and nodded. “We deserved a break.”

Sure. But he knew as well as Dean that “deserve” and “Winchester” belonged in the same sentence as little as “break” and “Winchester”. Except that had changed, Sam thought. Everything had changed irrevocably after Chuck. And Jack. Even then, he wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Chuck had definitely died. Or at least, that’s what he thought. A strange gap in his memory yet troubled Sam. Jack had returned at the eleventh hour, as was the Winchester way, and saved the world. And yet, the further he got from that day, the less he worried about it.

Dean’s barking laughter ripped Sam from his thoughts. On the screen, Kevin had been blamed for ruining everything and was being sent to bed early. Something about the innocence of the movie and Dean’s pure enjoyment settled the unease in Sam’s heart. Thirty-seven years. After nearly four grueling decades of survival, of clamoring for a scrap of normalcy in such a chaotic way of life, they finally had a chance to breathe.

“I’m pretty sure this movie taught me a couple new tricks to protect our motels,” Dean started as they watched Kevin walk through the empty house the next morning.

“I don’t recall any flying paint cans,” Sam teased.

“No, but I did use a torch on the door once,” Dean replied. “Roasted a ghoul. To this day, I’m surprised it worked. Son of a bitch came right through the front door.

Sam snapped his glare to Dean. “Why wasn’t the door locked?”

Dean had the audacity to appear chastised. “I wanted the trap to work! Had to bait the thing as best I could. Don’t look at me like that.”

Typical. Sam scoffed as he turned back to the TV to find Harry and Marv casing the house. “You know, we went on a hunt in that neighborhood once.”

“Really?” Dean asked. “That house just sold for like a million and a half. Where is it?”

“Winnetka. Just north of Chicago,” he said. “Oh, I think this is my favorite line in the whole movie.”

Dean turned back to the screen. “Buzz? C’mon—"

“Sh!”

Buzz explained to his cousin the various reasons why Kevin would be fine by himself. Three reasons, in fact. A. 2. And D. Sam laughed, most of all for Buzz’s third reason wherein he explains that they live on the most boring street in America and nothing remotely dangerous will ever happen. If he only knew.

“Why is that your favorite line? Not, ‘Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals’? Not ‘Better come get me, or I’ll call the cops!’ Not ‘Polka, polka’? Why that one?” Dean asked.

“Because,” Sam started as the scene continued. “Buzz is so damn innocent. He has no clue just how dangerous that town really was, even in the fictional universe. And then I also find his bullet point system hilarious.”

Dean looked to the TV, then back to him. “Wait, what?”

Sam grabbed the remote and rewound the movie a minute. “Listen.”

A.

2.

D.

“Holy shit,” Dean barked with laughter. “That is fucking hilarious, why didn’t I catch that before?!”

Sam laughed with him. “It’s subtle.”

“That is a damn good line,” Dean agreed as he shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Sam let well enough alone, rather than rib him any further. Instead, he savored the moments each as they passed. But it wasn’t until the movie finished that he remembered. He no longer needed to cherish every precious second he breathed. He no longer needed to cling to the ease in his heart. He no longer needed to worry about Dean taking care of him, protecting him at all costs. The curious man with the guitar on the beach had assuaged all Sam’s concerns, assuring him that the end had finally come to pass. That after nearly forty years of survival, Sam and Dean could finally rest.

Dean popped another cookie into his mouth as he spoke, drawing Sam from his thoughts once more. “You know,” he paused as he chewed, “this has got to be my favorite tradition. Always has been.”

Sam nodded as he regarded the still-scrolling credits. “Yeah,” he sighed as he sipped from his beer.

When Dean stood, he waited for him. “What’s got your goat? You got quiet there.”

Had he? Sam stood and shook his head. “I’m good,” he stated. “Just thinking.”

Over his shoulder, Dean’s quirked brow scrutinized him. “About?”

“I dunno.” He scratched the back of his head. In the hallway, he took a deep breath and said, “I’m still… processing.”

Dean’s glare cased the hallway before he spoke. “Home Alone isn’t exactly—”

“No, dude, not the fucking movie. The…” Quiet again, Sam shifted on his feet as one hand reached for the other. His thumb dug into his palm where he felt the tight scar tissue pull across the muscles of his hand. “We just wasted a week of our lives watching Christmas movies. I’m… not used to it yet.”

Softened, Dean’s face smoothed. A confident hand grasped Sam by the shoulder as he said, “I get it. I’m not really used to it yet, either. Hell, I’m still waitin’ for the other shoe to drop. But until it does, I’m gonna enjoy the time we have. When that shoe drops—and it will, no doubt about it—we’ll put on our big boy pants and handle it like we always do.”

He was right. Regardless of when or how, their reprieve may end. But until it did, there was no use worrying about it.

For the last time, Sam eased his thumb in his palm and released his hand. “Thanks, man. I needed that.”

He clapped his shoulder once as Dean turned for his room. “No problem, Sammy. Now, go make some more popcorn. We’ve gotta watch Kevin blow some shit up in New York City! That kid was like a baby John McClane…”

As Sam headed for the kitchen, he couldn’t help but smile. It would be a Merry Christmas, indeed.

Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to reblog, too!

If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), send me a DM or an ask!

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

The Whole Thang:

@atc74​  @hannahindie​ @bevans87​  @meganwinchester1999​ @oneshoeshort​ @jonogueira​ @andkatiethings​ @elfinmox​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​ @princessofthefandomrealm​  @just-another-busyfangirl​ @jmekitchens​ @81mysteriouslyme​ @dolphincliffs​  @seenashwrite​  @canadianspnhunter​  @meowmeow-motherfucker​ @staycejo1​ @hobby27​  @pretty-fortune​ @mypopculturediva​ @fanfictionjunkie1112​ @sandlee44​ @4llmywr1tings​ @claitynroberts​ @maddiepants​ @donnaintx​ @blackeyedangel9805​ @rainflowermoon​ @winchesterprincessbride​  @lazinessisalliknow​ @the-is13​ @waywardafgrandma​ @keymology​ @sister-winchesters99​​ @amanda-teaches​

[superbadassnatural]

Evil Amongst Us

Summary: Since Dean got the Mark of Cain, he’d been constantly on edge. It was impossible to keep his new behavior from permanently damaging your relationship. Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x Reader Word count: ~2.9k (wow, didn’t think it would be this long) Warnings: angst, blood, violence, angry Dean in a not-so-sexy way, character death A/N: This was written for @katymacsupernatural​ “Katy’s 6K Golden Challenge”. My prompt is the following aesthetic created by her. I kinda liked writing this. A bit different from what I wrote before. I hope you like as much as I did.

(x) (x)

Dean rolled over to your side, laying on his back. His body sinking down into the mattress, a heavy sigh leaving his plump lips. His bare chest rising and falling as he tried to even his breath.

“Well,” a chuckle left his lips. “That was- wow- that was amazing.” he glanced at the ceiling.

“Yeah, it was is,” you rolled onto your side, propping on your elbow. “It always is though.”

Your eyes scanned his figure. Your finger tracing different patterns along his chest. How come your relationship with Dean have come to this? Years of loving and caring for each other had turned into a relation based mostly on sex and stupid arguments over simple daily decisions.

Ever since Dean’s got the Mark of Cain, he’d become more aggressive. He had constantly been on edge. Any little thing that doesn’t go as he planned is a reason for him to lose his temper. You know he tries to keep it down. He tries effortlessly to hide his anger even more when he’s around you.

After quite some time since he got stuck with the Mark, you noticed he started to change around you. It had become harder and harder to find the Dean you love with all your heart in his green eyes or in the curve of his lips. It felt like he was slowly going away. You miss spending sunday nights watching some of your favorite movies and then cuddling until you fell asleep. You miss the hold of his hands, the constant praises that would just escape his lips, the look in his eyes when he woke up in the morning. And mostly you missed making love with him. When it comes to get in bed with Dean it’s just sex. It’s just away to seek some relief, to get off. He always gives you pleasure, but he’s not just as caring as he was before. There are no more praises, only some animal grunts. Therefore only few I love you’s are exchanged every now and then.

“What?” he ask. His eyes were still glued on the ceiling, but he could see you frown at his question. “What’s going on in this head of yours? You seem to be far away.”

“Just doing some thinking.” you laid your head on his chest. It had been a while since you did that. Lately, after sex he’d get up and go shower or grab something to eat. Sometimes he’d just sleep or take a nap. It was just like you weren’t there.

“About?”

“Us,” you sighed. As your voice echoed through his ears, his gaze fell on you. “About how much we’ve changed and how much I wish things got back to the way they were,”

“I know,” he whispered. You flinched at the touch of his hand on your back. The soft pad of his fingers tracing up and down your spine. “It might seem like I don’t, but I really wish I didn’t have this damn mark on my arm,” he almost exclaimed. “I wish I could be me again and not some shell of a man.”

“Things will get better,” you placed a kiss on his chest. Your lips lingering a little longer on his skin. “I promise.”

____________________________

“I can’t believe in what just happened,” you stormed into the bunker, following Dean down the stairs as you shut the door with a thud. “I mean, I could expect anything tonight, but this? Uh uh, never.”

Dean headed to the kitchen and grabbed a beer for him. He didn’t even bother to look you in the eyes.

While Sam was away in a hunt back in Ohio, you and Dean did some research and found some pretty interesting stuff. One of them was a vampire nest down Louisiana. It had been easier than you’d anticipated. Only four vamps. You and Dean handled it pretty good and fast. Before you could notice you were back in Kansas. You had the brilliant idea to go to a bar and have some drinks under the premise of celebrating your successful hunt. The truth is Dean was on edge today and you felt like he really needed to loosen up a little bit.

After a couple of beers Dean started to lighten up. He even made some jokes and let out a full laugh that you wouldn’t mind hearing everyday for the rest of your life. But after some more drinks he started to get a little erratic, like a small fire had started inside him. He was on edge again.

“Can you talk to me? Or at least look at me?” you challenged.

Dean turned to you with a roll of his eyes.

“What do you want me to say? That you are overreacting?” he snarled, pointing a finger at you. “Because you are,” he took a few steps towards you as his voice lowered. “You always do.”

“The hell I’m overreacting,” you exclaimed. You could feel your blood boiling at his nonchalant. “Yeah, because I should be thanking you for deciding to leave alone at the table we were, after spending a good time enjoying each other’s company, and going to the bartender to flirt with her,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry to remind you but you have a girlfriend. You’ve been dating her for the last three years.”

He didn’t said anything. His squinted green eyes focused on you and every movement of yours. His cheeks were now a bright red. Both from the alcohol and the growing anger. Dean rolled up the sleeves of his flannel, his eyes still on you.

“What am I to you, uh?” you crossed your arms in front of your chest as you waited for him to answer. He only looked down. “Look at me while I’m talking to you. What am I to you, Dean? Am I just a girl that you can get yourself off? Am I just here for your damn pleasure? So you can have your daily fun?” you spat. “Answer me, Dean!”

“I don’t know,” his voice was just above a whisper. You took a full look of him. His jaw was clenched and the tiny bit you could see of the mark was glowing a deep red. You felt a shiver run down your spine. “Look, Y/N, I’ve been through a hell of a time, the last thing I need is you and your existential crisis.” he waved you off as he head towards the war room with his beer on his hand.

“Don’t you dare walk out on me,” you followed him. “I know that you’ve been through a hell of a time but guess what? So have I!” you fumed. “I’m just asking for you to respect me. You don’t wanna be with me anymore? Than fucking say for God’s sake.” you clenched your fists, anger taking the best of you. “I shouldn’t be worrying about my boyfriend - the guy who I’ve been dating for the last three years - flirting with the bartender. I shouldn’t walk out of the bathroom to see some chick dancing with you, wiggling her freaking ass on my boyfriend’s dick. I shouldn’t have to see how hard he was because of other woman was doing to him. Or even worse, I shouldn’t have to drag him out of the bar because he couldn’t be a man and respect the woman he has a relationship with.” your voice rose as you stepped closer. Your chest almost colliding with his. His heavy breath against your cheek.

“You wanna know what you mean to me?” he asked, stepping forward. The sight of the throbbing veins in his neck sent a shiver down your spine. “Nothing. You mean nothing to me anymore. You’re just some weak, pathetic, stupid bitch,” he keeps on walking as he talks, causing you to step back until your back collide with the wall. His body was so close to yours, trapping you in place. “Like you said before, you’re just here for my damn pleasure. You used to mean something to me but now you mean nothing. You suck as a hunter and you definitely suck as a girlfriend.” He slammed his hand on the wall beside your head, making you flinch. You fought with everything you had to not let a single tear fall.

Your hand collided with his face. The loud slap of your hand on his skin echoed through the silent bunker. A small cut was made on the corner of his mouth, causing him to bring his hand to his lips.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that ever again,” you growled. “You can have the bed all to yourself tonight. I’m sleeping in the guest room.” you stated as you walked away from him and headed to the spare bedroom.

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It had been a couple hours since Dean laid on his bed. He was drunk. Only it wasn’t on all of the drinks he had, but on the silence. The stillness of the room and the tussle of his thoughts were keeping him awake. He was tired. So tired of all of it.

His muscles were tense against the mattress. He felt as if his brain was violently pounding on his head. Stupid, hateful thoughts crossed his mind nonstop.

“She doesn’t deserve you.” it was as low as a whisper.

Dean startled as he heard the voice. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of it. Nothing. It was all coming from his head.

“She never really loved you. She’s gonna leave you as soon as she can.”

“Stop.” Dean growled, his hands coming to his head. Fingers pulling at his dark blonde locks.

“Deep down she’s just as bad as you are,” the voice echoed louder. It was always this voice that made him reckless, that increased his desire to kill. “She’s evil.”

“No,” he exclaimed. Even though he was pissed at you, he couldn’t let the mark take the best of him. “She- she isn’t.”

“Yeah, she is. Look at all the innocent blood she has on her hands,” the mark tried to coax him. “She’s no better than any of those monster you hunt. She’s evil, Dean. And all evil must be annihilated.”

Dean’s hands were trembling. The blood was boiling inside his veins. He was feeling the rush he feels when he’s hunting down a monster.

He walked out of his room with the first blade in his hand. Heavy footsteps making their way to the guest room you were. As Dean opened the door his eyes landed on your sleeping form. Soft sobs left your mouth and your body shook every now and then from how much you’d cried before falling asleep.

“She looks like an angel now, Dean, but she truly is an abomination.”

Although his body was hundreds miles per hour, he was frozen at the door. He barely moved a single muscle. You stirred, blinking owlishly.

“Dean?” your voice was a little hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“There’s this thing that I need to do and I-“ he started to walk towards your bed. Your eyes took notice of the blade held in his hand.

“Dean, whatever you need to do, I’m sure you can do it without the blade.” you sat, not sure whether you should just wait for his next move or run.

He sat in front of you. His green eyes were dark. They roamed over your entire body. He could sure feel how scared you were. You don’t scare easy, but he can terrify you with just a glance. He licked his lips, his eyes finding yours.

“I’m sorry,” your eyes widened at his words. As he raised his hand to stab you, you kicked him in the stomach with all you had, causing the blade to meet the flesh of your waist. “You bitch.” he exclaimed with his hand pressing his stomach.

The cut wasn’t deep, but it hurts anyway. You quickly stood up and ran away from him as he still recovered from your sudden move. You were bleeding. You pressed the wound to contain the blood. It wasn’t enough but it would do. You entered Sam’s bedroom, locking the door. You scanned the room in search for something you could use to prevent him from entering. You tried to push Sam’s dresser towards the door.

“Cas, please, I know you’re really busy, but I need your help,” you prayed as you did your best to move the dresser. “Dean’s trying to kill me and I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect myself for too long.” you managed to get the dresser in front of wooden door.

You need something you can use to protect yourself. There were no guns in sight, not even under the pillow or the mattress or attached to the bed. Damnit Sam! Once you started to search for in his drawers, you found an angel blade. You only wish you had your phone so you could call Sam. Heavy footsteps could be heard from the hallway.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” his voice echoed in the room, he was just outside the door. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, sweetheart,” he said. Silence fell. “Alright, remember it was your choice.”

His foot collided with the door with an animal strength. He didn’t managed to open it, but he made a hole in it. Once Dean made sure it was big enough so he would be able to get through the door, he pushed the dresser away, entering the room.

Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it pounding in your ears. You were ready to use the blade, but you didn’t want to hurt him. He wasn’t himself.

“I have to do this, Y/N, so I can feel good again.” he stepped closer to you, grabbing your arm and bringing you closer to him. You stepped hard on his foot, your elbow colliding with the pit of his stomach, causing him to bend and release you.

You speed to war room. Every step you take causes your injury to hurt and bleed  even more. Like you, Dean was fast. He grabbed your left ankle pulling you closer to him. You struggled to get off of his hold. It was in vain. He pressed the blade up on your calf, twisting it while sinking it deeper in your skin. You screamed. You were more terrified than ever. Blood squirted from the wound once he pulled the knife out. You managed to kick him in the face with your right foot, causing him to stumble. You crawled away from him as fast as you could, trying to make your way to the angel blade a few feet from you.

Dean got a hold of you again, turning you on your back. He pinned you to the floor.

“This could’ve been much easier, Y/N, if only you’d listened to me. Now you wouldn’t be suffering this much.” he praised, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear.

“Why?” you cried.

“Because I have to.”

“Please, Dean, don’t do this,” you sobbed. “I love you and I know how much you love me. You can fight this. You are better than this.”

“No, I’m not,” he grabbed the first blade again. “I need to feel good again. And if I don’t kill I’ll feel bed and I’ll have to take it out on me then.”

“Please, Dean, please,” you begged. His dark eyes were locked in yours. There was no love in them, no mercy.

“Trust me, if there was an option I wouldn’t do anything to you, but see there’s bad in you. And you can’t run away from it because it’s in your blood and bad always win,” he almost whispered. “I’m sorry.” A single tear slipped his eye.

“I love you and I will love you forever, but I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done to us. Never.” you snarled.

Dean pressed the blade on your chest. Quick and fatal. A tear fell from your eyes. Dean stumbled back, sitting beside your dead body. Reality setting on him. The rage slowly fading away.

“What have I done?” he cried.

“Dean,” Castiel’s rough voice echoed through the room. “I heard Y/N’s prayer. Guess I couldn’t make it in time,” he glanced at your lifeless form. Your eyes were open and he could still see the fear in them. There was blood everywhere. Up the walls, Dean’s face, hands and clothes. “Why you did this, Dean? You’ve always loved her so much.”

“The mark,” a lost look in his green eyes as he started. Sobs escaped his lips. “The mark- uh- it said that I should kill her. That she was evil. And I- I- I needed to get that feeling out of my system,” he ran his hands over his hair. “I don’t know what had got into me, man. It was like I wasn’t seeing her. I was seeing a monster. A prey,” he cried, still refusing to believe in what he had done to the love of his life. How could he do that to such an innocent, pure girl?

“Dean, I-“ Cas started.

“The mark said that I needed to kill her, so I did.”

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