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Dean Winchester x plus size reader x Sam Winchester
A close call makes the boys realise that they need to enjoy the little things.
Warnings: injuries, blood, frostbite, concussions, hunt gone wrong but no death, NO WINCEST, implied polyamorous relationship, angst
WC: 1.2k
Square Filled: Christmas light tour @spnchristmasbingo
Minors DNI
SPN Christmas Bingo
Hunting was exhausting. It was dirty and gross and both physically and mentally taxing. But there was something about December and the holidays that made monsters act up even more than other times of the year. Cas had once said it had to do with the winter solstice but you thought that was a load of crap. Monsters were just being monsters and the only reason they went nuts at this time of year was because they knew hunters would be slacking off due to the cold and the early sunsets.
Sam and Dean practically carried you into the shitty motel room they had found for this hunt. You were bleeding and probably concussed with a hint of frostbite on the tips of your fingers and toes. Your head rolled as you were placed on the couch, the ancient springs beneath you groaning with your weight.
The brothers had a wordless conversation, their eyes meeting over you as Dean held you up, one of his large hands planted on your sternum, the other gripping the back of your neck. Sam quickly scurried away, heading straight for the incredibly stocked first aid kit you kept in your bag.
“C’mon sweetheart, keep those pretty eyes open for me.” Dean pleaded, his voice strained with emotion. It was too close of a call for him.
“Yer the one with purty eyesss.” Your words were slurred, a sure sign that you were about to pass out. Sam’s hands trembled as he ripped open the pack, gathering up all of the bandages he could and grabbing a bottle of whiskey they had been keeping as a celebratory drink for the end of the hunt. He ended heavily on his knees in front of you.
“I need to take your shirt off, is that ok?” You slumped forward and your forehead collided with the younger brother’s but you did not flinch, your body having gone numb long ago.
“You tryin ta get in ma pantssss? Cause that’s a yes from me.” You giggled, trying to reach for him but a strong arm moved to wrap around your chest, pulling you backwards. Dean’s lips fit against your ear, whispering soothing words that you couldn’t quite comprehend before turning to his brother.
“Just cut it off her, we need to stop the bleeding.” Swallowing hard, Sam nodded. The plaid was quickly sliced away, exposing your soft stomach to them. They simultaneously sucked in a breath, it was bad, really really bad.
As Sam worked, desperately trying to stop the bleeding and disinfect the wound with the expensive alcohol, your face fit itself into Dean’s neck, whining into his skin with each stitch. He held you as close as he could, wanting to take your pain away but knowing he wasn’t able to.
He hummed softly, his own eyes squeezed shut, not able to stand seeing you being slowly pulled back together. He blamed himself, he was the one that lost sight of you for a second, allowing for the shifter to grab you and inflict pretty severe damage. Dean would never forget that feeling of the monster that took your face telling him all of your deepest and darkest secrets as it taunted them, saying you were already dead, bleeding out in the snow.
His calloused fingers fit against the curve of your neck. He could feel the thready beat of your heart, but it was enough for now. You were alive and safe in his arms.
Sam felt like he couldn’t breathe, he literally held your life in his hands. Logically, he knew his hand was more steady than his brother’s, his stitches straighter but he wanted to throw the needle and thread towards Dean and comfort you instead.
His heart had stopped when the shifter emerged from the shadows. Everything about the visage was perfect but he knew it wasn’t you. It could never have the same softness of your eyes, your playfulness even in the most dire of circumstances. Dean froze but he didn’t. He let the rage consume him, already mourning your life.
But then, they found you; half-conscious and pale from the blood loss, yet you were alive. The squeeze of pain and anger around his heart had lessened as he held you close in the back of the Impala, keeping your head up and against his collarbone as your soft body fit between his muscular legs.
Your breaths were getting deeper as you went limp in Dean’s arms. They let you fall asleep, knowing you were mostly out of danger. Sam tied off the last stitch and wrapped it in bandages, pulling the torn edges of the plaid back over your exposed skin before he breathed a sigh of relief.
“That was too close.” He remained kneeled between your legs, hands unconsciously squeezing your knees as he usually did when he was anxious. Dean couldn’t meet his gaze and he knew he was blaming himself for what happened.
“I thought she-“ Dead. He couldn’t say it because saying it would make it real. Sam slumped forward, his head falling onto your plump thighs.
“We need a vacation.”
——————
Your head throbbed painfully like your skull was too small to fit your brain. You groaned, your arms flailing as you attempted to gain some type of awareness of your surroundings. Soft blankets engulfed you, keeping you in a cocoon of warmth.
You licked your cracked lips as you attempted to remember what happened before you fell asleep. There was a hunt, as per usual, you got separated from Dean because of a stupid hidden revolving door and then, blackness.
Your eyebrows scrunched in concentration as you tried to remember anything else. But the gentle vibration underneath you and the soft rock from the radio was quickly lulling you back to sleep. “Hey beautiful, glad to see you’re finally awake.” With a great deal of effort, you forced your eyes open.
Sam was leaning over the back of the front seat, looking visibly shaken. You noticed how his hands had been cleaned raw, the skin inflamed and red. “Who died?” You tried to break the tension with a joke but the way that Dean’s shoulders tensed and Sam’s gaze dropped to the floor told you everything you needed to know. Swallowing, you spoke again. “How close was it?”
“Too close.” Dean didn’t even bother to look at you. Sam glanced at his brother before turning back to you.
“Don’t run off like that again.” He almost cooed, reaching down to cup your jaw. You nodded into his hand, your head suddenly getting heavy. “Stay awake just a bit longer for me, we need to get some food in you before we can give you any more meds.”
“I need more motivation than food to stay awake.”
“How about Christmas lights?” Dean finally looked back at you, a sad smile on his lips before he gestured for you to look out the window. With Sam’s help, you sat up against the leather seats, a blanket quickly wrapped around your torso before you were able to get cold, and looked outside.
Houses surrounded you, each one bigger than the last, with perfect lawns and pristine gardens, even beneath all the snow. Lights were everywhere, intricately braided together to create colourful patterns that lit up the whole street. Dean drove slowly down the way, letting you take in every bulb and every lawn ornament.
“Wow.” Your breath fogged up the window, briefly obscuring your view but your focus remained on the incredible decorations. “You were right Dean, this was good motivation.” You didn’t see it but the brothers glanced at each other, making a silent vow.
Picture from Pinterest | Divider from @firefly-graphics
Summary: You ended up getting attacked in the middle of a snowball fight. Leading up to a cute meet with a not-so-stranger from your regular coffee shop.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Prompt: Meet Cute for @holylulusworld‘ Spin The Bottle Challenge
Squares filled: Snowball fight for @spnchristmasbingo // Christmas for @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story Bingo // Clothes Sharing for @spnfluffbingo //
Warnings: Fluff, meet cute, Christmas love, cuddling, first kiss
Word Count: 770
A/N: Last day of 2022, last fic of the year. It took me 5 months to start writing again but I hope that 2023 is fill with more inspiration and less writer’s block. Happy New Year!
You woke up in Winter Wonderland. Everything was as white as it ever could be. You were in love.
Christmas morning in Winter Wonderland, your dream came true. Getting up and changing real quick so you could enjoy this before the city woke up and became crazy.
You had crossed the street to avoid some kids that were already playing in the snow, without realizing that there was a snowball fight going on, on the other sidewalk.
You were hit square in the face by not one but several snowballs, the sudden attack made you stumble and fall into a small water pond that was starting to freeze.
Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam
Word Count: 2737
Prompt: Mistletoe
Written for: @spnchristmasbingo
Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)
Warnings: Throws fluff in your face.
A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!
Main Masterlist
Where we left off….
“You— you want to stay here because— of me?” She questioned, and narrowed his eyes at her the way he always seemed to do when she wasn’t catching on to whatever it was he was saying as fast as maybe he wanted her to, his dimples always showed when he did that, and fuck if it wasn’t the most beautifully distracting thing she’d ever seen. She’d never get tired of staring at them.
“Yes, I like you Y/N, a lot, and… I don’t know, if you’re not opposed to dating an old man, I’d like to see where this goes between us?”
Y/N blinked and stammered at him for a moment, and if he’d not been watching her so intently, she probably would have pinched herself to see if she was dreaming or not.
“Really?“ She questioned in utter disbelief. "You want… really?”
Summary: Dean enjoys time spent with family, learns a new skill, and is reminded of how big of a tease his girlfriend can be.
Warnings: A teeny bit of angst at the beginning, FLUFF, sexually suggestive flirting, mild language, canon divergence
Word Count: 2998
Beta: @princessmisery666. You're da bomb!
Credit: @talesmaniac89 made the gorgeous title card and divider
Part Four: Sweetest Things
Saturday morning, Nicole slips from their bed in the blue hour, leaving Dean to sleep. She meant what she said about him not joining them if he doesn’t want to, but after their talk a couple of evenings ago, she hopes with even more of her heart that he will. If he does decide to join in on the fun, it will most likely be under the pretense of making sure they are not destroying anything in his kitchen. She doesn’t expect him to do a complete one-eighty and become the epitome of holiday cheer, but she’s optimistic that spending some time with their found family will help to jump-start his spirits a bit.
Quietly dressing in a plain white v-neck tee and her half of the set, she drapes Dean’s matching pajama bottoms over the back of the desk chair. Whether he will wear the new attire or not remains to be seen. Running a hand over the fabric, she reflects on their conversation.
After her hasty exit from the library, she’d gone to her studio to finish packaging the last of the orders, needing to ship them out before leaving on their trip. That’s where Dean had caught up to her.
~~~~
“Hey, you alright?”
“Shit,” Nicole jolted, and the jewelry case tumbled to the floor as she brought a hand to her chest, the necklace gripped tight between her fingers.
“Sorry,” he exclaimed and picked up the box for her. “I did knock.”
“No. It’s alright. I was concentrating…” With the box back on the table, she placed the necklace inside and slipped the chain through the card tabs to hold it perfectly in place. “Of course.”
“What?”
“I’ve tried for the past ten minutes to get that to lie flat, and the minute you…” She huffed, “Never mind,” and turned to face him. “You wanted to talk?”
“I came to see if you were okay.”
“I’m fine. I wanted to get the last of these orders packed up so I could give my hunky boyfriend my full attention.”
“Nico…” He pressed his lips together, and his expressions warred between addressing her ‘hunky boyfriend’ comment and concern for her. Concern won out. “What was in the bag?”
Tears had begun to well, so she waved him off, “Nothing important,” and placed the necklace in its shipping box.
“Seemed like it was.”
The dimples of discontent made an appearance, and she’d dropped her head and rolled her lips between her teeth to contain the laugh that bubbled in her throat and dispelled the sadness. “I can get another one.” She’d loudly slapped a label on the package to distract from the intake of breath she’d taken before facing him again.
“Done!” The pursed lips and furrowed brow had let her know he was not impressed. Before he could continue to push the matter, she’d taken his hands in hers as she stepped closer and kissed the tip of his chin. “Do you want to talk here or in our room?”
Though he was the one that had asked to talk, it had taken some nudging to get him to share what he was feeling. As she sat on the bed, he sat in the desk chair—a beer held loosely in one hand while the fingers of the other flexed against his denim-clad thigh, a small tell, one he rarely showed. She urged him to join her on the bed when he made a joke that fell flat.
“It’s just the two of us, Dean. You know you can trust me.” With an arm thrown over her legs and head nestled in her lap, she’d combed her fingers through his hair. He took a couple of deep breaths, and with a calculated guess of where he was headed, she softly chided him. “No more jokes. Tell me what’s going on.”
He gripped her hand and tugged it from his hair to hold it against his chest, and though smothered in layers of fabric, she still felt the rapid thud of his heart. She remained silent, brought her other hand up, and brushed a lock of hair from his face. Knowing it soothed him, she began to card through his hair again.
“I- I feel kind of lost. You and Sam… you seem to have adjusted to the change. I’m not sure what to do with myself or where I fit anymore.”
~~~~
She’d felt crushed by his words, and the more he laid bare, the worse she felt. He needed her support, and she hadn’t been there for him. Still awake hours after Dean had fallen asleep in her arms, she rehashed everything he’d said. While her presumptions of the emotions he has been grappling with were fairly accurate, comprehending how deeply those struggles have affected him cut deep. She’s still furious with herself for not seeing it sooner.
Yet, no matter how much she wishes to, she can’t change the past. All she can do is move forward and find a way to help Dean do the same. She’s more confident than ever that the road trip is precisely what he needs. Out of the bunker and on the open road, they will have an opportunity to reconnect. Hopefully, what she has planned will help Dean find a new perspective. She can’t choose for him, but she will do her damnedest to help him find a path, a purpose in this new life of theirs, that will make him happy and feel fulfilled.
Yesterday, he declined her offer to go into town with her and grab some lunch after running some errands. He told her he wanted to finish reading a book she knew he’s read at least twice before but would meet her for dinner at Las Canteras. The excitement of having her favorite meal at her favorite restaurant with her favorite person in the whole universe sidetracked any questions she had about what he was actually going to be doing.
Hearing a soft snore, she turns and smiles. Lying on his stomach, he has one arm shoved under his pillow while the other is twisted behind his back. It looks uncomfortable, but she has seen him sleep in worse positions. Knowing he’s naked beneath the sheet covering his lower half makes it difficult to leave the room, but she finally tears herself away, softly closing the door behind her. There’s a lot of prep work to be done before everyone arrives.
Sam must have just headed out for his run as the smell of coffee greets her when she steps down into the galley, and she silently thanks him for making a pot of the life-affirming brew. She’s still surprised by how actively involved Sam has been regarding her holiday plans and makes a mental note to ask him if it has anything to do with his new relationship.
Before she left yesterday morning, Sam helped her set up several folding tables in the hallways outside the kitchen. They will need way more surface space and seating than the modest kitchen offers. One set is for the decorating station, and the other is for the packaging station. Everyone will be getting a treat bag to take home. At her request, he’d hung a couple of temporary cordless speakers from the ceiling while she and Dean were at dinner. She wants to be able to play music to help keep things upbeat and fun and already has a playlist saved on her phone.
Dean shuffles in a couple of hours later, grunting, “Morning,” squeezing her hip as he passes behind her, making a beeline to the coffee machine. A huge grin splits her face, seeing that he’s wearing the new pajama bottoms. He’s also chosen to wear a white t-shirt, and the material pulls taut across his broad shoulders as he reaches for his coffee cup. Replying with a simple “morning” in return before biting into her bottom lip to keep any naughty comments in check, she opens the fridge to pull out ingredients for his breakfast. He’ll let her know when he’s ready for conversation.
Swiveling in the seat when she places the heaping plate of food in front of him, he pulls her into his lap. “Smells like a bakery in here. Aren’t we baking cookies together?”
She contentedly snuggles into him, slipping an arm around his back and laying her head on his shoulder. “We don’t have a lot of oven space, so I made the sugar cookies and gingerbread. That way, the kids will have something to keep them occupied. They can decorate those while we work on other goodies.”
“Always thinking ahead. That’s my girl.” The deeper rasp of his morning voice and the low chuckle warm her from the inside, and she kisses his neck. “Organizer extraordinaire.”
“Yeah, well, there are going to be a lot of bodies in a small space. You’ll be glad for my planning skills when you don’t have to corral those little cuties all day.”
“Oh, I adore your detailed obsessed brain, but a bit of spontaneity never hurts.” She shifts in his lap, and he forestalls any forthcoming debate from her by asking, “Did you know Donna’s going to teach me how to make donuts?” before shoving an entire strip of bacon in his mouth.
”I did.”
“Hmpf. I thought she was asking so she could bring me food, not because she was going to put me to work.”
“Well,” she runs a hand over his chest, “once you learn the basics, you can start trying different flavor combos. Create a Dean Winchester Special?”
He nods, contemplating her suggestion as he swallows a bite of eggs. “Maybe. When’s everyone supposed to be here?”
Lightly grabbing his wrist, she twists it to read his watch. “They’ll probably start trickling in, in about thirty minutes or so. We aren’t officially starting until ten, though. That way, everyone has time to get settled and get greetings out of the way. Remember, you’re all meeting Stacey for the first time, too.”
A grunt is his only response as he continues to dig into his food. She pinches a bit of fabric between her fingers and gently tugs, pulling it away from his thigh. Tilting her head to look at him, she gives him a heartfelt smile. ”You didn’t have to wear these, you know.”
“I wanted to. You’re right. They are soft.” He shrugs. “And they have pockets.”
“Of course, they have pockets. What good are pants without pockets?”
“They’re pajamas.”
“So?”
Shaking his head, he smiles wide and kisses her forehead with syrup-sticky lips. “Oops, sorry.”
Nic squeals when he licks at her flesh to try and remove the sugary goo, slapping his chest when he chuckles.
“Ewww!” They both startle, hearing Sam’s groan of disapproval. “You two are disgusting.”
Nic slithers off Dean’s lap, leaning back down as she turns. Instead of kissing him, she slowly slides her tongue over his lips and exclaims, “Yum!” winking as she straightens.
Dean roars with laughter, Nic giggles, and Sam grumbles, “It’s too early for this crap. I’m gonna go take a shower.”
Watching Sam’s hasty departure, Nic lets the happiness in her heart seep through her veins and settle in her soul. Hands framing his face, she leans in to give Dean a proper kiss, only pulling away when her phone loudly vibrates on the metal island.
It’s late afternoon, and Nic’s cheeks hurt from smiling. The day has been filled with laughter and love. Everyone welcomed Stacey with open arms, and Nicole was happy to see her new friend comfortable and relaxed amongst the good-natured but sometimes overbearing throng of hunters. The twins are napping in one of the spare rooms, and Alex, Claire, and Gertie have taken Miracle out for a walk.
Sam throws an arm over Nic’s shoulders as he steps up beside her. “Gonna take your advice.”
“About?” she asks, curiously looking up to see a sly smile and apprehensive eyes.
“Gonna show Stacey around the bunker after everyone leaves. Explain exactly what our lives entail.”
Giddily wrapping her arms around his waist in a tight hug, she exclaims, “I’m so happy for you.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see how it goes,” he mutters, voice laced with doubt as he stares at his feet.
“It’s going to work out, Sam. I know it.”
He squeezes her back and then wanders over to wrap an arm around Stacey and pull her into his side. The adoring look they give each other makes Nic’s heart nearly burst. The answer to her question about his involvement in the festivities playing out right in front of her. If she could, she’d hold a mirror up to Sam to show him it’s as sickly sweet as she and Dean in the kitchen earlier.
Now, looking around the room at her family and friends, she can’t help but feel blessed. Eyes landing on Dean, her smile grows impossibly wider. Donna and he had just finished frying up their last batch of donuts which were cooling on one of the tables in the hall, waiting to be frosted. Leaning against the door frame, his eyes roam over the people in the room, lingering for a moment on each one. Arms loosely crossed over his chest, he wears a genuine smile. Not the one he plasters on pretending to be happy while attempting to shove down a shit ton of pain and emotional trauma. The eye crinkles and full-body laugh made several appearances today, but there’s a tenseness lingering in his shoulders.
Pulling her phone out, she snaps a quick picture of him before switching the song on the playlist. When his gaze catches hers, he winks, and she blows him a kiss. Catching the change, Dean blinks, eyebrows popping up before furrowing as he listens to the new tune. The look of confusion as he tilts his head and lush pink lips part around a silent ‘what’ is adorable. A sexier, more enchanting specimen of humankind has never been created.
Dean’s eyes stay glued on her as she sashays her way over to him, snatching a snickerdoodle from a tray as she passes. He turns to the side as she takes the step up to him. With a small gyration of her hips, she grips his wrists, pulls his muscular arms around her, and rests her hands on his biceps, careful not to drop the cookie.
Large warm hands rest on the small of her back, and a cheeky grin curls his lips. “I thought you hated country music.”
“I do, but…” The steel guitar transitions into the final verse, and grinning, she sings along.
Well, I don’t need Santa to bring me nothing, all I need is your kissin’ and a huggin’, sure could use some kissin’ and a huggin’ now.
Wriggling against him, she puts a little extra twang into her voice, feeling the muscles beneath her hands loosen and relax.
You and Christmas cookies are the sweetest things around. You and Christmas cookies are the sweetest things in town.
Dean growls when she licks the cinnamon sugar from her lips after taking a large bite out of the sweet confection she holds and pulls her closer, letting her feel what her little show has instigated. Eyes focused on her mouth, he ducks his head, but she pushes the rest of the cookie between his parted lips before he can connect with hers.
“We have company,” she teasingly chides.
“They won’t miss us,” he mumbles around the mouthful of cookie. Hands now squeezing the globes of her ass, he quickly swallows the food and gives her a hungry kiss. Snickers and jeers fill the room, along with a shout to get a room. They each laugh into the kiss as they simultaneously flip off their loved ones surrounding them.
Sam and Stacey are packaging cookies at one of the tables in the hallway behind them, and as she and Dean finally pull apart, Nic hears Stacey quietly ask Sam, “Are they always like this?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Sam grouses in response.
“I think it’s sweet,” Stacey sighs.
Winking at Dean, Nic places a hand on his chest. “Would you mind going to pick up lunch?”
“You coming with?” Thick pink tongue wetting his lips, followed by the scrape of glistening white teeth over his bottom lip, desire dripping from his voice like warm molasses, sends her pulse skittering. He glances over her shoulder, then leans in to husk conspiratorially, “We could sneak in a quickie in the car.”
“No can do, buckaroo,” she hums in response, attempting to keep her own desire in check. “I promised Alex and Claire I would show them how to make gingersnaps.”
He groans softly against the side of her face, “You just gonna leave me hanging?”
She nips his ear and giggles, “Doesn’t really feel like it’s hanging,” resisting the urge to cup his sac. Her antics may have backfired on her, though. He chuckles as she squirms against him, and she hates that he knows.
“Problem, gorgeous?”
“No problem at all, handsome,” she purrs, licking along the thick muscle of his neck to try and keep the upper hand.
“Son of a-”
Sam clears his throat, and Nic ends their heated whispered conversation with a quick peck to Dean’s cheek, stepping back out of his embrace. Dean’s hands tighten on her waist before she can escape entirely, and he dips to give her a final fervent kiss, slapping her ass, before releasing her when she squeaks in surprise.
“Where’d you order from?” he calls over his shoulder.
“Cornerstone,” she hollers at his retreating back. “Thank you! I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”
The group in the kitchen breaks into laughter and applause; Sam sputters, Stacey chuckles, and Dean stops dead in his tracks before shaking his head and continuing down the hallway without a word. Nicole licks her lips, tilting her head to watch thick meaty thighs and beautiful bowed legs saunter away.
“It’s almost Christmas, Daddy!” Dean’s daughter pointed to the mall Santa. “He’s handing out candy canes!”
“I know! Isn’t that awesome?! After we get done shopping for Sam, we will use someone else’s credit card to get you a whole bunch!” He took her hand in his as she skipped alongside him.
“Someone else’s money? Why?” YN looked up at him.
“Its- it’s a joke, honey.” Dean laughed inwardly knowing he stole someone’s credit card number. YN didn’t need to know that, though.
“Oh. Okay.” She shrugged.
As they passed the mall Santa again, the line to see him was short, so Dean oblidged his daughter and let her meet the white-haired man.
‘Fank you, Santa! I wuv my candy cane!” YN waved goodbye to the hefty man.
As they walked away, Dean scooped his little girl into his arms.
“Weeee!” She yelped in surprise.
“I’m gonna tell you a secret, my precious baby girl.” He took a breath for her to stop giggling before he continued. “You’re MY candy cane.”
“No, I not! I’m YN!” She started laughing again.
“Yes, you are!” He tickled her sides as they exited the shops. All out of candy canes when they meet Santa “You’re my candy cane, sweetheart.”
Summary: Sending the Winchesters off on a world saving hunt, you ask for help however you can think of.
They were all packed and ready to go. The trunk of the Impala was full of everything they might need to stop this large demonic force bent on destroying the world. Again.
“Tell me again, why can’t I go?” You pleaded with Dean, pulling him aside as Sam and Cas climbed into the Impala. “I’m a good hunter. I can take care of myself. Please. I need to be there. By your side.”
Dean shook his head, his fingers brushing against your chin. “Y/N, you’re one of the best hunters I know. And that’s why I need you here. Safe at the bunker. In case this all goes down wrong, at least I know you’re here.”
Your arguing wasn’t going to get anywhere, and you couldn’t hold him up any longer. But it still stung that you were being left behind, while they went off to save the world. “Stay safe. Come back to me, please.”
His arms wrapped tight around you, his lips pressed against the top of your head. “I always do,” he whispered into your hair. “You can’t get rid of me.”
One last kiss on the cheek and he was in the Impala, leaving you to watch as they drove away. A tear slipped down your cheek as you prayed that it wouldn’t be the last time you would see them.
Beta: @wayward-and-worn. Thank you for helping get things on track.🤗😘🤗
Credit: @talesmaniac89 made the gorgeous title card and divider
Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful friend, Stacey (@princessmisery666). As you know, this past year has been rough. Your friendship and support through all of it are so greatly appreciated. Love ya!!!❤️❤️❤️
Part Three: Hail the New
Dean wakes the next morning to an empty bed.
Last night she’d found him in the library where he was waiting for her. She draped her arms over his shoulders, leaning down to whisper, “I’m sorry”, and kiss his cheek. He’d responded in kind before rising, capturing her hand in his and letting her lead him to their bedroom.
Not long after they’d officially become a couple, she’d made him promise they would never go to bed mad at each other. Said that they had enough bullshit going on in their lives that they didn’t need to bring it into the bedroom. He’d initially thought it was cheesy but had come to appreciate it over the years.
The thought of not falling asleep next to her would always leave him feeling sick. With her lying in his arms, he feels whole. She keeps his inner demons at bay. On the rare occasions they are separated from one another, he usually chooses not to sleep. Instead, he stays up reading, watching movies, or roaming the bunker's cold vacant hallways, his thoughts always landing back on her.
She’s feisty and stubborn, calls him on his bullshit, and takes him down a peg or two when needed. He loves her all the more for it, but when their stubbornness is pitted against each other, it’s like hell on earth. Again.
He doesn’t feel guilty about his reasons for not wanting to do the whole Christmas thing. However, he knows that despite the trials she went through growing up, Nic still enjoys the season, and he does feel guilty for putting a kibosh on her plans, especially after initially agreeing to them. It’s not that he hates the holiday, but as he said, nothing good ever happens to them. Like Nic, he hoped this year might be different, but he can’t seem to ‘get into the spirit’.
Part of their agreement is that if there are things left to discuss, they will address them when they wake up the following day. He knew if he talked to her, she would listen… really listen, not judge him. He just hadn’t found the will to do it yet. Deciding not to let it drag out, he’d opened the way for a discussion as they’d gotten ready for bed.
~~~~
“Are we okay?”
“Of course we are,” she smiled, shimmied out of her jeans, and tossed them in the laundry pile.
“Because, you know, I could explain, for the millionth time, all the reasons why Christmas sucks.” Miracle trotted into the room, and Dean closed the door behind him as the pup settled into his bed.
She’d paused, shirt half unbuttoned, the creamy skin of her thighs bared when she’d thrown her hands in the air, and bit back, “Dean, what’s the issue?”
He bit his lip and tried to steer his wayward thoughts about his head being squeezed between those muscular, gorgeous thighs back to the conversation he’d started. He cleared his throat and shrugged, “I just want to make sure you understand why I don’t want to celebrate.”
“I believe I do, but you know you can talk to me about it, right?”
Dean nodded as she removed her jewelry and placed it on the nightstand. When he didn’t respond further, she continued.
“I know that growing up the way you did that the holidays sucked for you. Mine weren’t always that great, either. I thought, well hoped,” lips briefly pressed together, she yanked the bedcovers down, “that since we now have a home and no big bad threat looming, we could try something new.”
He wanted to talk to her and explain the emotions that had been plaguing him the past few weeks. How left behind, he felt while she and Sam seemed to be moving forward and navigating their new lives with minimal struggle. Wanted to tell her about the loss of purpose he felt since ‘the family business’ had been relegated to a side hustle. Wanted to let her know that he was ready to start putting himself first once in a while but that he didn’t know where to start. It might not exactly be how he’d envisioned it, but the fairytale he talked about wanting but never believed he would have is coming true, and he doesn’t feel like he has a place in it.
“Dean?”
She popped the last button on her shirt, and he decided that discussion could wait for another time, so he deflected. “I can think of some new things I would prefer to try.” She laughed when he shot finger guns at her. When she snorted, he laughed with her. Once their amusement settled, he reached across the bed. “Seriously, though, we’re good?”
“Yes,” she winked and let her shirt drop to the floor, “we’re good,” then slipped her hand into his.
~~~~
After a couple of rounds of blissful activity, she had asked if he wanted to discuss anything. Curling around her, he assured her that he was fine—he was good.
So much for putting myself first.
He told her that he didn’t have anything to talk about, and though he still isn’t ready to have what he is sure will be an intensely charged conversation, it’s a little disconcerting when he finds her pillow vacant and the sheets cold. She rarely leaves the bed before him, and he worries that maybe he has missed something. He aggressively tosses the covers aside, and the sudden movement causes Miracle to sit up, an expectant tilt to his head as he stares from his bed across the room.
“C’mere, buddy,” Dean pats his chest, and the pup scuttles across the floor, hopping onto the bed. Turning his head to avoid a full-face lick, he catches sight of the note propped against the light on his nightstand. He gives Miracle a big hug before reaching over for the folded card.
Flipping it open, he throws his head back with a roar of laughter, reading the first line, ‘You were VERY good!’, causing Miracle to bark and howl in response. The dog pounces around, pulling and twisting the bedding, and Dean takes a moment to calm him before reading the rest of the note.
‘Sorry, I’m not there. Needed to run some errands. I’ll bring back some pie.’
Tilting the small card, he smiles, seeing the shiny imprint of her lips as a signature, and brings it to his nose. The faint aroma of the honey-flavored lip balm she wears dispels the last of his uneasiness.
“Whelp,” Dean sighs, rubbing the top of the shaggy mutt’s head, “looks like it’s you and me again today, boy. What should we do?”
Bored out of his mind, Dean absently flips through channels. It’s a barrage of Christmas movies, holiday cooking shows, and ads hawking cheesy decorations, cheaply made toys, and useless gadgets. Pressing the off button, he tosses the remote onto the table. Miracle lifts his head from Dean’s lap at the disturbance and looks up excitedly.
Running his hand down the dog’s back, he mutters, “I don’t know about you, bud, but this isn’t cutting it.” Since their lives have calmed, the days of idleness are running together into a neverending blur of sloth. He’s not sure how much longer he can handle it before he goes all serial killer.
Looking at his watch, he jolts with concern. It’s almost 3:00, and he still hasn’t heard from Nicole. Donna had texted him a couple of times, asking off-the-wall questions like what his favorite donut was and his preferred choice of toppings. Not random at all, but whatever, he’s always down to talk about food. His phone vibrates as he reaches toward his back pocket, chuckling as the word ‘home’ appears on his screen beneath Nicole’s name as if she read his mind.
“Let’s go see our girl,” he smiles at Miracle, who trots happily next to him out of the room and down the hallway.
Nic is setting bags on the wooden table as he and Sam walk into the kitchen from opposite directions. “Hey, glad you’re both here,” she smiles. “Would you mind getting the rest of the things out of my car while I put the groceries away?”
She turns into his embrace when he grabs her hips, wrapping her arms around his neck, and whispers, “I brought you two pies.”
“Sweet talker,” he smiles into the light peck he plants on her lips. Sam clears his throat, and Dean pulls her closer, intensifying the kiss.
Nic lightly slaps his chest when he finally lets her go. “You just can’t help yourself, can you.”
Wiggling his eyebrows, he teases, “Not when it comes to you.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Raising her own brow, she fixes him with a stern gaze, letting him know that she knows the deeper kiss had been more about annoying Sam than a greeting of affection to her.
With a smirk, he turns to Sam, “C'mon, Sammy. Let’s do as the lady asked.”
As they head out of the room, she laughs to herself, hearing Dean chastise his brother. “Did you hear that? Two pies. Nic NEVER forgets my pie.”
With the brothers helping, the groceries were put away in record time. Setting the last jar of peanut butter in the cupboard, Nic laments, “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Well, you bought enough food to feed a pack of wolves, so why don’t I make some sandwiches?”
“That would be wonderful.” She squeezes his ass as she passes behind him. “Thank you.”
“Hey, watch it, Grabby McHandsy.”
Smiling sweetly, she pouts, “I couldn’t help myself.”
“You two make me sick,” Sam huffs, but Dean hears the undertone of amusement and laughs.
As he begins to pull ingredients from the fridge, Nic asks Sam to help her with the rest of the packages on the table.
Carrying a plate of food for each of them, Dean joins them about ten minutes later in the library. Nic pours him a drink as he sets a plate down in front of her. “Who are those for?” he asks, spying the stack of brightly wrapped boxes on the other table.
“Just a few small gifts for family and friends. There’s one for you,” she tosses out and hums between bites, “Best food ever.”
“It’s just a sandwich.” Dean amusedly shakes his head. “You always say that.”
“That’s because it’s always true.” Holding her glass in salute, she cheers, “To the best chef I know. Thank you.”
Setting his plate down, he hands the final one to Sam. Moving to the end of the other table, he sifts through the boxes, looking for one with his name on the tag. Shaking it when he finds it, he asks, “Can I open it?”
“Yep.”
The too-quick response makes him eye her skeptically. “It’s not a gag gift, is it? Nothing’s going to pop out and try to scare me? Cause you know, I don’t scare that easy.”
“Cat,” Sam coughs, trying to hide his smirk behind his hand.
“Yorkie,” Nic mumbles, biting her lip as she turns away.
“Very funny. Two comedians, huh? You do remember that I nearly died, right?” he huffs.
Nic smiles sweetly and pouts, “I do, babe, and I’m thankful every day that you didn’t.”
“Hmph,” he rolls his eyes in annoyance, “whatever.”
“Go ahead. Nothing weird is going to happen.”
Excitedly ripping off the paper, he then places the box on the table to open it. Peeling back the layer of tissue paper inside reveals red and black checked flannel, and he teases, “Are you regifting the shirt you stole from me?”
“Ha! Now, who thinks he’s on Comedy Central.” She pulls out the material and stands, holding the garment up to him.
“Pajama pants?”
“Yeah, I thought they would be fun to wear for-” She cuts herself off, clears her throat, and then grabs an unwrapped box, quickly opening it to show him the contents. “They match mine, and I thought they could be part of a new tradition. They’re soooo soft and will keep us warm on movie nights. But it's not a big deal if you don’t like them.”
Her wide grin and sparkling eyes do a number on his heart, and he can’t help but return her smile as he leans down to kiss her. “Thank you.”
Taking the box from her, he sets it on the table next to his, noticing a name he doesn’t recognize on one of the packages, and asks, “Who’s Stacey?”
“A new friend and Sam’s girlfriend,” she matter-of-factly replies.
Sam chokes, spitting the bite of the sandwich he just took back onto his plate, and Nic quickly covers her mouth, trying not to snort as she laughs.
“I knew it!” Dean blurts, pointing a finger and leveling a smug look at his brother before snapping his head back in her direction. “Wait, how did you know?”
“After a post office run a while back, I decided to treat myself to a coffee from the bookstore cafe that I like. I caught sight of Sam through the window as I was crossing the street. He and a curly-haired woman were making lovey-dovey faces at each other.”
Dean snickers when Nic puckers her lips, imitating kissing noises, and Sam huffs that he was doing no such thing.
“Anyway, I knew Sam would clock me the moment I entered, so I came home and waited for him to tell us about her, but he never did. A couple of weeks later, I was in town again to pick up some holiday cheer I had ordered. She was in the cafe, sitting at the same table. I knew Sam was still at the bunker, so I decided to introduce myself. See if I could find out how serious things are and whether I needed to have the ‘don’t hurt my best friend or I’ll have to kill you’ talk with her.”
Sam slumps in his chair, his cheeks almost crimson, and Dean can’t help the proud smile splitting his face. She loves to tease Sam almost as much as he does. Watching his brother’s discomfort grow as Nic continues to speak fills him with wicked glee.
“She was leery of me at first. Thought I might be a jealous ex or a significant other he lied about not having. Once I told her I was in a relationship with his brother, we bonded over having something in common. After all, dating a Winchester isn’t exactly a piece of cake.”
Both men straighten with righteous indignation, but Nic rambles on between bites of Dean’s sandwich that she begins to eat. He opens his mouth to scold her for stealing his food but quickly snaps it shut, reminding himself that she hasn’t eaten since early this morning. He can make another one for himself later. Besides, watching Sam’s flustered irritation is too enjoyable to interrupt.
“She’s a writer… fiction. Good at it, too. She’s let me read some of her stuff. We exchanged numbers and emails and met for coffee several times. I like her. She’s smart, unpretentious, has a sharp sense of humor, and a lovely English accent.” She winks at Sam over the last comment. “We became pretty fast friends, so I invited her to join us on Saturday.”
“What’s going on Saturday?” Dean suspiciously questions.
“The entire family is coming over.”
“The entire family? Wait. Is that why Donna has been texting me about donuts?”
“Yep, Jody and the girls, Donna, Garth, Bess, and the kids.” She chuckles, looking over at Sam, “and Stacey.”
Sam’s shoulders roll, and his chest puffs, but she preempts his bitching. “You know, she believes in the supernatural. I know you haven’t told her what we do, but you might be surprised about how accepting she would be of the facts.”
“Everyone? In my kitchen? Absolutely not!” Dean grouses as he strides around the table, the delight in Sam’s embarrassment shoved from his mind.
“I thought we could have a cookie exchange. Bake some treats? Just spend some time together.“ Nic quickly blocks his exit, placing her hands on his chest. “Look, none of us had a normal childhood. Or anything remotely considered traditional. The good memories are few and far between. It doesn’t have to be a Christmas celebration. We’d be creating our own tradition. We can call it whatever we want. You know, hail the new,” she cheers. “It’s deep-fried dough and piles of sugar. We’ll have pizza and beer. All the things you love!”
Dean inhales sharply, and he’s sure she can feel his heart pounding against his rib cage. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he runs the other through his hair. She’s trying to find a compromise—a way for both of them to enjoy the emotionally charged time of year.
A warm hand cups the side of his jaw. “You don’t have to join us, but I hope you will. Just think about it?”
“Yeah… I can do that.” Pulling her into a hug, he whispers, “Can we talk later?”
Arms wrapped tight around his waist, she nods against his chest, whispering back, “Of course.”
Shoving the emotions back into their designated compartments, he brushes a lock of hair back at her temple, then steps back.
“So what’s in this bag?”
“Shit.” Nic’s hand shoots past his in an attempt to grab the bag’s handle first but ends up knocking the package clear off the table. As their hands grapple to catch it, they both miss, and it lands heavily on the cement floor. The sound of glass shattering fills the space.
Dean’s eyes widen as Miracle rushes over to see what the commotion is about. Nic squats down to grab his collar, “No,” she admonishes him, picking up the bag with her other hand.
Nic looks up at Dean, eyes misted over as she asks, “Will you please take him while I make sure there’s no glass on the floor?”
“What was in the bag?”
“N- nothing.”
“Nico-”
She looks back at the floor and sniffs, “Just take him, please.”
She’s clearly upset about the broken item, but unsure how else to help, he takes hold of the dog’s collar and gently tugs, “C’mon, boy,” taking a few steps away.
After looking over the area, she stands with the bag in hand. Swiping a hand across her cheek, she mumbles, “Floor’s clear; gonna go throw this out,” and practically sprints from the room.
Turning to find that Sam looks as shocked as he feels, Dean asks, “You know what was in there?”
“Not a clue,” Sam shakes his head and shrugs.
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Dean growls, “Son of a bitch.”
Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam
Word Count: 2k
Prompt: Christmas Proposal
Written for: @spnchristmasbingo
Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)
Warnings: Things are discussed…. Mention of Dean’s past.
(Also, I know this is a bit of a different take on the prompt itself, I hope this is okay.
A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!
Main Masterlist
Dean’s POV:
Dean shifted under the weight against his chest. He was warmer than he should have been. Warmer than he’d been in years. It was nice, and he was doing all he could to hold it together and not move an inch, because somehow, he knew, he just knew, the moment he opened his eyes to reality, the moment he let himself wake up, that moment would be over, and he would be cold again; alone.
Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam
Word Count: 2737
Prompt: Snowball fight
Written for: @spnchristmasbingo
Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)
Warnings: Throws fluff in your face.
A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!
Main Masterlist
“Has the plow come through yet?” Dean questioned as Sam walked through the door, shivering and kicking snow from his boots out of the still open door. Y/N shuttered, pulling the blanket she had draped over her lap tighter against the bitter bite of the cold wind that blew through the door.
Summary: Readers love of candy canes drives Jensen to distraction
It was the last scene shot before you were off for the Holidays. All of you were antsy and tired, and more than ready to head home for a couple of weeks. However, you had this last day of filming to finish, and it was lasting forever.
You had just finished wrapping up your scene but had decided to stay and watch until everyone was done. It was a simple scene between Sam and Dean in the bunker’s kitchen. A moody conversation before rushing off to fight a monster. It should have been easier. But for some reason, things were not going well.
Sitting down in your chair, you pulled off the wrapping of the candy cane you had plucked from the snack table earlier. You loved the sweet treats and had pocketed a couple to keep in your trailer as well.
Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam
Word Count: 1.5k
Prompt: Snowing On Christmas
Written for: @spnchristmasbingo
Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)
Warnings: It’s getting warmer… Inside at least…
A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!
Main Masterlist
As much as she’d had to drink the night before, she thought she would have slept better, but nope! Instead, while she slept off the copious amounts of liquor Sam had poured into that horrible eggnog, her dreams were filled with soft, pink lips, and swimming green eyes.
Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam
Word Count: 2k
Prompt: First Christmas Together
Written for: @spnchristmasbingo
Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)
Warnings: Feelings!!!
A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!
Main Masterlist
As holidays go… it really hasn’t been a bad one. As of her holiday track history, that was really saying something. In fact, she can’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much.
Hi! How are you? For the mood boards, there is a picture limit? I'm sorry if this is stated somewhere but I couldn't find it. Thank you! Happy holidays
There really isn't a limit, whatever you want to do is fine. :)
SPNChristmasBingo @spnchristmasbingo - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
