#donna hanscum fic

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Prompt from @thesassywallflower for @spnfanficpond Secret Santa): Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Pairing/characters: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum, Sam Winchester, Jody Mills, Claire Novak, Kaia Nieves, Patience Turner, Alex Jones

Chapter warnings/tags: finale-fix it, there was no rebar, explicit (eventually), fluff (? Idk), angst (? light), domestic (can’t get much more domestic)

Chapter WC: 2200

Author’s notes: There will be multiple chapters written in 3rd person POV, shifting perspective in each section.

Many thanks and love to my dear friends @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker​ I love you both like whoa. Text divider by @talesmaniac89.

“Dude.” Sam is beaming from the inside out. He might be overreacting, but he doesn’t think so.

“Dude.” Dean grips the steering wheel tightly.

Sam doesn’t notice at first that Dean looks like he might pass out. “Dude, I always had a feeling she was interested in you, but monster auctions and apocalypses-”

Dean doesn’t start the car right away. He sits staring into the mid-morning winter sun, white-knuckling the steering wheel until he drops his hands to the bench seat in frustration and booms, “Dude, what?!”

Sam’s taken aback. “What, what?”

Dean blinks at his brother, his mouth agape. “Sam...” he pauses and scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “Donna...”

Dean pauses again, regripping the steering wheel with one hand as he squints into the shine of the sun again as it bounces off the bright, studded tire-packed snow of Donna’s side-street avenue.

He sighs and shoves the key into the ignition, shaking his head.

“Donna, what, Dean?” Sam asks, daring his brother to actually speak in full sentences on the issue of why he thinks he shouldn’t have something normal. “Are you trying to tell me I didn’t walk in on you two ready to jump each other’s bones?”

Dean’s eyes go wide as he eases away from the curb, fitting a pair of aviator lenses over the bridge of his nose.

“Sam, Donna is a beautiful... beautiful woman, okay?” He tosses his brother a look of exasperation that Sam can see burning through the mirrored lenses. “But she isn’t here for guys like me, alright?”

The older Winchester turns his attention back to the road ahead of him, grumbling about Sam being ‘on something’.

“Guys like you? What does that even mean?” Sam asks, knowing full well what Dean means, but he is not going to let him get away without talking this through once and for all.

“Sam.” Dean chuckles in that condescending, Sammy, you just don’t get it way, and Sam grits his teeth because he does get it and he’s tired of Dean’s excuses. “The longest relationship I’ve ever had was Lisa, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Cas wiped that away.” Dean shrugs as he continues to list all of Cosmopolitan magazine’s Reasons He’s Mr. Wrong, but Sam hears the jagged edges of grief twisting Dean’s voice.

“I got no real money, I’m probably a mama’s boy, and I can’t even count the number of kills...” Dean shakes his head again and sighs again as he pulls into the parking lot of the dollar store. “If I’m not fuckin’ psychotic, I’m the poster boy for instability, dude, seriously.”

Dean cuts the engine, but Sam doesn’t move. He waits in silence as Dean continues to avoid the direction Sam is inevitably headed.

Yet, Dean remains in the car, so Sam takes another chance.

“What about me?” he asks.

Dean groans, whipping his shades off and rolling his eyes. “Aww, man, come on.”

“No, you come on. You keep saying I should have something normal now that all this shit has settled. Why me and not you?”

Dean glares at his brother, motioning with his sunglasses as if he’s arrived at his final and damning point. “Because you deserve it.”

“Sure, I do. So, why don’t you?” Sam presses because Dean has no point from where Sam’s sitting.

“I just said!” Dean’s eyes are wild like their dad’s were when he couldn’t find the words to say ‘I can’t talk about this right now.’ It used to scare them both, but Sam’s grown out of that fear, and it never worked for Dean against him anyway.

“Fine,” Sam says. He has a list of his own. “Every time I fall in love? Murdered.”

Dean groans and squirms in his seat.

“Werewolf. Demon-”

“None of that’s on you, Sammy, you know-”

“You wanna discuss the demon blood?”

Dean pulls a face. “No.”

“No. Right.” Sam sets his jaw and the brothers stare out the window for a beat.

“Dean. If anyone gets you and...” Sam motions around the cab of the Impala and toward the trunk. “It’s Donna, man, why can’t you see that?”

Dean swallows, tilts his head, and does all the things that postpone words.

“Just follow her lead.” Sam softens his tone. “She’s a grown woman — a hunter. She can make her own informed choices.”

Dean draws a deep breath before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not saying, go in there and sweep her off her feet, just... promise me you won’t fight her if she wants to sweep you off yours.”

Dean huffs a laugh and looks at his brother sideways. “I mean she prob’ly could.” He shrugs. “CrossFit and all that shit.”

Both brothers chuckle until Sam brings them back to the point.

“Promise me,” he says.

Dean looks at his brother for a few beats then half shakes and half nods his head. “OK...”

When the door slams behind the brothers’ exit, the women at the dining table slowly turn to look at their hostess.

“Uffda. What got into them, huh?” Donna shakes her head and shuffles to the dining table.

She looks a little punch-drunk.

Donna has had a crush on Dean from the moment she met him undercover at that health spa. When she found out what he really did and subsequently began fighting beside him, her feelings for him grew incredibly complicated.

Donna has never detailed her timeline of Dean Feels out for Jody, but they’ve talked about their experiences with the hunting lifestyle, that Sam and Dean are like family to both of them, and that the hunting life gets lonely.

After Second Doug left Donna, Jody knew she was angry and sad. She told Jody that she thought about going back to when she didn’t hunt and that she still wonders if that’s even possible.

Deep down they both know it isn’t.

“Girls, can I have a minute with Donna?” Jody asks.

“Sure... yeah... of course,” the four girls’ voices blend together as Donna settles in a chair at the table next to Jody.

Jody quietly watches Donna as the girls shrug into their coats before heading out the front door for a walk. Donna doesn’t directly answer Jody’s question, but it’s clear they’re thinking of the same things.

“What happened?” Jody asks quietly, closely eyeing her friend’s profile. “I heard Sam being all ‘awkward-Sam’ and you calling out something about mistletoe?”

“I’ve always wondered what he’d be like, ya know? Would he cuddle and tell me I’m beautiful?” Donna sighs a little and Jody can’t help but sigh a little, too.

“Would he fix that leaky pipe under the sink and open jars that no matter how much I work out, I just can’t open?”

Donna huffs a laugh and her bottom lip begins to tremble.

Jody reaches for her hand and squeezes. “Pretty sure he’d do all those things and then some.”

Donna blinks rapidly, clears her throat, and tilts her head back to stop the sudden wave of emotion.

“He looked at me like-” she lowers her watering eyes and levels Jody with her soft gaze and her voice a whisper of awe. “I can’t even explain it. No one’s ever looked at me like that.”

Jody tries not to swoon her face off. “Like what?”

“Like he wanted to eat me alive.” Donna breathes a nervous chuckle and shakes her head.

Jody sighs through a smile of her own. “I bet he does,” she replies, watching Donna get comfortable with the possibility that her long-time friend and fellow monster hunter could want her the same way she’s always wanted him.

“Dean’s a good man, Donna,” Jody fills the silence.

After a few moments, Donna nods. “You’re right. He is.” Donna agrees with her confidante before continuing. “He’s also smokin’ hot.”

Jody busts out laughing. “Oh, my god, I’m glad you said it before I did!”

Donna hoots, adding, “And I’ll bet my life savings he’s somethin’ else in the sack.”

Jody and Donna are still laughing and about to break into the bottle St. Brendan’s when the girls come back from their walk.

“What the fuck?” Dean whispers under his breath, having no idea where to look or what to focus on first.

There are racks and shelves and bins and baskets overflowing with items of all shapes, sizes, and origins labeled white elephant gifts. Dean’s familiar with the concept, obviously, even though he’s never taken part.

This stresses him out because he didn’t ask Donna the price range and because he doesn’t want to be the clueless old man who buys soap on a rope for a 25-year-old girl.

“Can I help you?”

Dean turns to find a helpful, kind-looking face and he grins in response. “Well, I sure hope so…” he pauses, glancing down at her name tag. “Dawn.”

The clerk blushes and her dark eyelashes flutter. She’s just a kid, but it boosts his self-esteem a little that she didn’t roll her eyes or outright ignore him. Dean begins to tell her about Donna, Jody, and the girls as Sam wanders up, looking as bewildered as Dean feels.

“Well, these 3-packs of socks are great. They’re fuzzy and warm — perfect for sleeping — these li’l magnetized planters with succulents are great for people who like plants, but plants don’t like them; there’s always novelty mugs, adult coloring books and colored pencils... Any of that sound good?”

The brothers look at each other and shrug, relieved.

“I like the planters and the...” Sam gestures toward the shelves. “Succulents?”

The clerk giggles politely because she’s not as charmed by Sam as she is by Dean. Obviously.

“I’ll take the fuzzy socks,” Dean says.

“Good choice,” the clerk replies, snagging their selections and dropping them into a basket to carry to the checkout. “Do you have boxes and gift wrapping?”

The brothers shake their heads, and Dean leans in conspiratorially. “We don’t, but I bet you do,” he replies with a wink.

The clerk giggles and blushes again.

After the dollar store, they hit the liquor store for the items Donna requested.

“The fuck is…” Dean squints at his phone screen. “Glueween?”

“Lemme see,” Sam tries to wrestle Dean’s phone from his grip, but Dean plays keep away.

“Oh, what, you speak umlaut now?” Dean tucks his phone under his arm inside his jacket.

Sam rolls his eyes and gives up. “Judging by your shit pronunciation and admittance that it has an umlaut, I’m guessing it’s Glühwein.”

Dean smirks and mutters, “Such a nerd.”

Sam turns and makes his way to the German section. “It’s a hugely popular seasonal beverage, Dean, not some obscure witches’ brew.”

Dean mimics Sam’s walking and talking as he trails behind him as if he’s still 12 years old because familiarity is comforting and annoying Sam is amusing to him.

They pass by a row of coolers, so Dean pulls a couple of 6-packs. He spots a lone carton of eggnog that reminds him of a Christmas Eve not so long ago but many apocalypses past.

“Lemme know if it needs a little extra kick.”

“Here it is,” present-day Sammy says, swiping a spouted bag from the shelf. “Last one. Wow.”

They easily snag the couple of other requests from Donna on the way to pay.

“You got the last one!” the man at the register crows. “Can’t have Christmas without Glühwein.”

“You’re right about that!” Dean replies with manufactured enthusiasm. Never having heard of Glühwein or how to pronounce it before five minutes ago, he’s working up the gumption to drink it later. The last thing he wants to do is offend Donna.

Or anything in the ballpark of bad. What he wants is to make her happy. Make her smile, laugh… give her a bunch of orgasms.

“What if I hurt her?” Dean thinks aloud as he and Sam pile inside Baby.

Sam shrugs. “I’ll kick your ass,” he replies.

“Psshhh, as if you could,” Dean mumbles, pulling onto the road to head back to Donna’s.

“I’m not plannin’ to hurt her, just so we’re clear,” he obsesses. “But-”

“Dean…” Sam sighs heavily. “Everybody gets hurt at some point in relationships, it’s inevitable. Just try to balance it with-”

“Comfort,” Dean says, rolling into Donna’s driveway.

She texted him between the white elephant and booze shops to tell him to pull into the drive because of snowmageddon and street plows but what he really read was that she was asking him to make himself at home.  

He lets the car run for a few extra minutes, watching Donna through the front picture window, dancing with Patience and Alex. They’re spinning in circles, singing, and laughing.

“She’s so fuckin’ beautiful.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sam replies gently.

Dean turns off the engine and glances at his brother one last time before climbing out of Baby’s front seat and gathering the bags from the trunk. “You sure ‘bout your matchmakin’ skills, Sammy?”

“Yes,” Sam answers without hesitation or another word of explanation.

“OK, then,” Dean says, looking down into the trunk. “We got Christmas to do.”

Chapter Three

Please don’t leave without telling me what you think!

[watermelongirl01]

Sweet Rescue - 01

Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: None, I think.

A/N: I hope you like it, please let me know if you do!

Your parents always warned you about the dangers of driving late at night, but did you listen?

It all happened too fast. As you were waiting for the red light to change, out of nowhere you felt a violent impact on the left side of your car, launching you across the empty street. Shattered glasses splattered down your face and you instinctively squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the worst, only opening them again until your car finally came to a stop. 

The front of your car was completely destroyed, which is likely the reason why your legs felt trapped. You tried to move them to get out of the car, but it didn’t work. Your eyesight started to get blurry. You reached up to touch the side of your head and immediately felt a wave of nausea wash over you when you looked at the blood on your fingers.

There was no room to move, your throat felt dry and tight, refusing to let you scream for help. Your phone was nowhere to be found, and with each passing moment, your eyelids grew heavier, as if sleep was pulling you under.

You weren’t sure what the handsome firefighter was trying to tell you, you weren’t even sure when they arrived at the scene, let alone who called for them. 

The only thing you were sure of, was that the man in front of you had the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire existence.

Suddenly, the shock wave left your body, and all the noise came back. The blaring sirens and flashing lights complicate your vision, their brightness finally blinding you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you blinked again. The dryness in your eyes stung a bit, giving you a hint of how long you had been frozen at that moment.

“Sweetheart?” A deep and raspy voice caught your attention. 

“You have pretty eyes.” He flashed a smile at you.

You saw how he gestured for the other firefighters to help him get you out of the wrecked automobile.

“Don’t move your head, sweetheart, my friends here are going to take good care of you.” He pointed at two women who seemed to be the paramedics.

——

“Oh God, I came as soon as I heard.” A worried redhead barged into your hospital room. “Are you okay boss?”

Charlie has been there since you opened the bakery. Doesn’t do a lot of baking but she’s really good at managing business.

“I’m okay, they just wanted me to stay the night to monitor my contusion.” You reassured. “I will be discharged in a couple of hours. Just remind me to never drive at night again.”

The redhead sat on the end of the bed. “What happened?”

“A drunk driver, luckily the street was empty, it was just me, so it wasn’t a big accident.” You quickly explained.

“I heard the firefighters got you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “Pretty? Hot? Spill it.”

You chuckled while shaking your head. “Pretty hot, I would say.”

“We’ll have to thank them to save the best boss ever.”

“Oww, I knew you cared, Charlie.” You said placing a hand on your heart.

“Well of course, if you die I become jobless.”

“Touching words Charlie, they are really heartwarming.”

“No, really boss, I’m glad you’re fine.” She smiled softly, grabbing your hand between hers. “I should come back to the bakery, and make sure Donna hasn’t burned anything, but I will come back in a few hours to get you home, got it?”

“Got it.”

You waved goodbye to her and smiled to yourself. There was nothing much to do but stare at the white, sterile walls around you. No phone to distract you, it was probably destroyed in the accident. You’d been planning to replace it anyway, though not before buying the new refrigerator for the bakery, paying the bills, and—oh right—baking the wedding cake for your aunt, along with cupcakes for that birthday party. Damn it, you were way too busy to be hospitalized.

Before you could spiral further into your thoughts, a throat clearing from across the room caught your attention. You looked up to find a tall, green-eyed man staring at you.

Those eyes

“Hey, I'm Captain Winchester, I don’t know if you remember me, but I —.” You interrupted him.

“The firefighter who pulled me out of the car, I remember.”

He smiled widely. “You do?” He chuckled a little. “I came to drop some patients and found out you stayed overnight, so I came to check on you.”

“Yeah, apparently they wanted to monitor my head injury and the concussion, but they will discharge me in a minute.”

“It was a pretty nasty cut, huh?” He pointed at the baby pink Hello Kitty band-aid covering your tiny wound.

You laughed a little embarrassed. “Hey, it could’ve been dangerous, I almost died out there.”

“Not on my watch, sweetheart.” He leaned on the end of the bed, getting closer to you. You struggled to breathe.

Your hand traveled at the tiny band-aid in your head, suddenly remembering your choice of style.

“You know, they didn’t have normal ones, so they gave me no choice.”

“The hospital didn’t have regular band-aids and forced you to use a Hello Kitty one?”

“Yup, those bastards.” You frowned, not able to hide your smile.

He narrowed his eyes at you, calling your bullshit.

“Fine, I chose it, but it was because it’s the only band-aid that fits my personality.”

He chuckled. “That I can see.”

Captain Winchester stayed for about half an hour, chatting with you. He would have stayed longer, but one of the paramedics—Jo, as you had learned—came looking for him.

“Dean?” You looked up in surprise at the blonde girl standing in your doorway. Captain Winchester seemed equally caught off guard. “The guys are waiting for you. They want to rest.”

“Oh, sorry,” Dean muttered, glancing at his watch in confusion. “I kind of lost track of time.” He turned back to Jo. “This is the lady from the accident. Jo is, well, you know her.” He gestured to you. “Jo’s the paramedic who helped you.”

“I remember. Thank you so much, Jo,” you said, offering a genuine smile.

Jo nodded, her expression briefly softening. “That’s my job, but glad to see you’re okay.” Her focus quickly shifted back to him, barely acknowledging you.

Dean gave you a small smile, his fingers tapping on the bed rails. “I should get going, but I’m glad you’re alright.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Need a ride? There’s room on the truck.”

Jo raised an eyebrow at his words, clearly confused by his offer.

“Oh, my friend should be on her way. But I appreciate it, really.” You smiled at him.

He returned the smile, more warmly this time. “Alright. see you around, then.”

“Bye, Captain,” you said, your voice soft as you watched him leave.

——

“See you around? Are you stupid, Dean?” 

“Jeez Sammy, I’m sorry, my mind blocked for a moment, okay?.” Dean looked up at his brother, feeling slightly offended.

“Clearly, how are you gonna see her around if you didn’t even ask for her number.”

“I’ll ask Cas, he’s a doctor there, maybe he can get me her phone number?.”

“No, he can’t, it’s against the hospital policies.” 

“What if I invite him a beer in exchange?” Sam shook his head in disbelief.

“A bribe? That's illegal.”

“No, it’s not.” His fingers grabbed the bacon on his breakfast plate.

“Of course it is Dean.”

“It’s not illegal if you don’t get caught.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.” Sam massaged his temples with his fingers.

“Fine! I’ll ask Jo if she can do a follow-up and help me get her number.” The older brother took a bite out of his bacon, shrinking his shoulders. 

“No, bad idea, don’t ask Jo.”

“Why not?” Dean looked at this brother in utter confusion.

“Just don’t, trust me.”

Dean's mouth opened to argue back, but before he could say something a soft voice interrupted him.

“Excuse me? I'm looking for Captain Winchester.”

And there you were, looking beautiful, a different band-aid adorned your forehead, this time it didn’t have a Hello Kitty on it, it was simple in a pretty cherry red color. You were juggling with a bunch of pink pastry boxes, Dean recognized the logo, it was from his favorite bakery.

“You’ve found him.” You smiled when your eyes found his green ones. 

He immediately stepped forward to help you with the boxes, noticing there were at least six of them, each in a different size.

"This is for you," you said, offering him a warm smile. "Well, for all of you," you added, glancing at the curious firefighters who were watching. "It’s just a small way to say thank you for saving my life."

"Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t have to do this," he replied, smiling at you.

“It’s really no trouble,” you said with a shrug, your voice softening. "I didn’t know what to bring, so I grabbed a little bit of everything, pie, cupcakes, cinnamon rolls, cookies, I hope you like it." You clasped your hands together. "It was baked with a lot of love and a big thank you."

"How do you know it was baked with a lot of love?" came from Jo’s voice, echoing from the doorway as she leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

Dean winced, but you didn’t seem bothered by her tone.

"Uh, I baked them." you said, smiling softly.

"Do you work there, sweetheart?" Dean asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, kinda," you chuckled lightly. "I actually own the place."

"You own the bakery with the best pies in town?" Dean asked, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

"I don’t know about the best pies in town," you said with a small laugh, "but yeah, I own it."

"Awesome." He said.

"Excuse my brother." A deep voice said from behind him. A tall man with long hair stepped forward and offered his hand with a smile. "He really does love your bakery. I’m Lieutenant Sam Winchester."

You shook his hand, handing him a piece of paper as you did. He glanced at it, looking slightly confused.

"I wasn’t sure what would be enough," you explained, suddenly feeling a little shy. "But being there during the accident, seeing all of your faces, it just made me feel like I had another chance. So, I wanted to give you something to show how much I appreciate what you did for me."

You took a deep breath, watching his expression carefully. "For the next year, you can go to my bakery and get anything you want. My treat."

Sam blinked, surprised. "What? That’s too much, Are you sure?"

You nodded with a smile. "Yes, absolutely. I’ve already talked to all my employees. If I’m not there, they’ve been instructed to let you take whatever you want every morning. No charge."

"That’s really kind of you," a voice said from behind you. "We really appreciate it."

"Sweetheart, this is Chief Singer, Bobby Singer." Dean said, introducing you.

"A pleasure, Chief. You have the finest firefighters in town." you said with a smile.

Bobby grinned. "That I know." he replied, clearly proud.

You glanced at Dean, suddenly reminded of your to-do list. "I really should get going. I need to take care of some things for the insurance company."

"Let me walk you out, sweetheart," Dean offered.

You nodded, gathering your things as you made your way toward the door, stopping to say goodbye to everyone in the room.

"Thanks for the pie, beautiful," Dean said teasingly.

You felt your cheeks flush. "Thanks to you, for rescuing me and for checking on me."

"Always," he said, his smile softening. "I’ll be there tomorrow, first thing in the morning."

"I’ll make sure to be there."

"You better." he said with a playful grin.

And he stood there watching her leave the fire station,  her red high heels clicking against the gray concrete floor and hips moving side to side as she walked out.

“Oh my god, you really like her.” A voice coming from behind him said.

“Shut up, Sammy.” 

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s been a year already.” The younger sibling looked at him, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It’s okay to move on.”

Dean simply nodded. 

[dumb-zombie-girl]

I'm writing a supernatural fix it fic in my notes app and when i get done would anyone be interested in me posting it on here?

[golby-moon]

I did a thing and jumped in (definitely not way too late what) to do Art Stuff for the @deancas-stabfest bang :0

I'm actually pretty happy with how this banner turned out. I usually go for weirdo angles on banners to force myself to practice or something but for this one, I just did a simple a top-down view of the table. hopefully made up for it by trying to copy the initials table carving style from the show?

what originally drew (hah) me to the bang at all was the visual elements section of this fic. I joined the bang a little after claims actually and took on more of a pinch hitter role as the sudden urge to draw a bunch of characters enjoying a Christmas dinner hit me over the head. first time drawing a lot of these characters so just in case from front to back we have Patience, Donna, Jody, Kaia, and Claire on the left, then Dean in the middle, and then Jack, Alex, Eileen, Sam, and Cas on the right

(idk what like 80% of the food is supposed to be either. I did draw a turkey, some pies that look kinda undercooker, Winchester Surprise, a plate of cookies, idk some bread stuff, bean casserole thing...mystery meat?? I think I did have something in mind for each of these things but idk can't remember them now lol)

food is...not my strong suit

the fic this is made for is called "Everlasting" by @entropic-saudade for the deancas stabfest (now offering femslash options)

[ladylilithprime]

Day 22: Ladies

(Takes place in the Faerie Court of Avalon, NJ series. Donna Hanscum is a selkie sheriff. Amelia Everett Richardson is a veterinarian specializing in magical animals and animal forms. Matthew Pike is their foster son and best friends with Jack Kline Winchester, who is the adopted son of the faerie whose magic helped Amelia transition in exchange for her first born child-- Amelia's suggestion. The child's sire is either John Castiel Novak or James Constantine Novak, who are twins and Sam's husbands, and donated their sperm to the cause by way of artificial insemination.)

I NEVER THOUGHT that I would say I miss morning PT," Amelia Richardson groaned as she carefully eased herself down into the embrace of the large, overstuffed armchair that had pretty much been declared as her chair from the moment she had been invited to move in. They had just returned from another appointment with Meg, an almost 900-year-old dragon woman who had taken charge of Amelia's health care for the time despite technically only being a registered nurse at the hospital. Immortal credentials were hard to transfer over despite the Magical Revelation, but everyone Amelia had asked said Meg was more than capable, which was good enough for her. With a swing by Lighthouse CommodiTeas for a couple drinks and to drop Donna's foster son, Matt, off for a sleepover with his best friend, that meant that Donna and Amelia were going to have the apartment to themselves... and here Amelia was, sore and exhausted and wishing she was still doing the PT from her brief stint in the Marines again!

"Do you really?" Donna asked, eyebrows raised skeptically. Amelia thought about it, then made a face.

"No," she admitted and sighed. "I miss having the stamina to go up two flights of stairs without being winded. Not really looking forward to the long haul effort it's gonna take me to get back in shape after the munchkin pops out, either."

She placed a hand over her extended abdomen and immediately felt the roll and flex as the baby inside her womb shifted position and pressed back. There was still at least half a month to go on the incubation period, and while Amelia had no desire to rush things along and risk the baby's health from coming out earlier than intended, she also knew that she was quite ready to have the whole thing over and done with.

"It'll take longer than you'll like, but it won't take as long as you think," Donna promised with a pat to Amelia's shoulder as she passed. "Hungry?"

"Yes," Amelia admitted, a little sullenly. It felt ridiculous to be hungry when they'd just had lunch three hours ago. "Do we have any salt and vinegar chips left?"

"I got a few more cans yesterday," Donna called back as she disappeared into the kitchen. She was back a moment later with a can of the requested chips and a bottle of the Green Machine fruit smoothie, both of which she handed to Amelia. "Don't give me that look, Meg said to keep your iron levels up for the baby on account of the faerie magic at work."

"I know, I know," Amelia sighed. She obediently opened the smoothie bottle and gulped down a third of it before going for the chips. "So, we have the place to ourselves with the only kid still here being the one inside me... I know I can be a little oblivious, but this feels like a set-up for either a romantic evening or a serious conversation."

"Kinda," Donna admitted, ducking her head a little sheepishly. She dragged the ottoman over and sat down on it in front of Amelia, then lifted the other woman's feet into her lap, gently tugging off her shoes and rubbing soothing fingers over the marks left behind by them on Amelia's swelled feet and ankles. "This thing between us... it's working pretty well, right?"

"Yeah?" Amelia bit her lower lip, wrestling with the sudden spike of anxiety. "I mean, I kinda thought so. I know this... me living here... only really started because I had that dizzy spell right at the end of the first trimester and Meg put her foot down about me living alone while gestating..."

"Charlie would've offered to take you in as a roommate if I hadn't volunteered first," Donna admitted, ducking her head a little. "I almost had to arm wrestle her for it. And it wouldn't have made a difference in our dating, except for the driving back and forth. I kinda worried that you'd think I was jumping the gun, going from dinner out to moving in after just two months, but...."

"But I was already head over heels for you and jumped at the chance to move in with my gorgeous girlfriend, who actually wanted me to move in," Amelia finished with a crooked little smile that probably didn't do anything to hide the way her heartrate had picked up. She hesitated, then added softly, "Sometimes I wonder how things might've gone between us if we'd met earlier... before I was a real woman...."

"You were always a real woman, Lia-love," Donna broke in gently but firmly. "You might not've realized it at the time, but--"

"I was an angry shell of a person trying too hard to be a man because that's what was expected of me even by me," Amelia interrupted, shaking her head. "And as much as it pains me to say... you really wouldn't have liked me back then. I was a complete asshole, too lost in my own pain to care how much pain I put the people around me through. Being a woman... being allowed to be a woman... has made me a better person overall, and being with you just makes me keep wanting to work at being better. Because you deserve the best, and while I don't exactly think that's me, I'm just so damn grateful you're willing to settle for me anyway that I'll keep trying to be the woman you deserve in your life."

Donna's eyes were suspiciously bright as she reached out and fumbled to take Amelia's left hand in hers. She brought it up to her lips for a kiss, then turned it enough to kiss the base of Amelia's bare ring finger. And then, to Amelia's astonishment, Donna brought their twined hands together to touch the little gold locket she wore in the hollow of her throat.

"I showed you what's inside the front cover of this locket, right?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion. Nonplussed but feeling the unexpected weight to the question nonetheless, Amelia nodded, heart in her throat. "There's a compartment in the back... behind the engraved iris blossom. It's enchanted to have an expanded interior... because it's where I keep my pelt."

Amelia felt her heart practically slam to a stop in her chest before picking up triple its normal speed in shock. "Didi--"

"I don't expect you to do anything with this information," Donna went on, looking up into Amelia's eyes earnestly. "I keep it here because I never know when I might need to 'fursuit up' for an emergency, and I know you well enough to know you respect that and wouldn't try to hide it or anything... you'd probably bite the head off of anyone who did try and take it, knowing what's in it."

"Damn right, I would!" Amelia choked out, her vision starting to go a bit blurry around the edges. She'd take on anything and anyone that put her Donna in danger! "Why--"

"This thing we have is working real well," Donna said with a slight shrug, squeezing Amelia's hand gently. "I just wanted you to know where it is. So you'll know if something happens and it needs looking after."

The dam broke and Amelia burst into tears, too overwhelmed to do anything but cry and clutch at Donna's hand. She felt her girlfriend - was she her wife now? Fianceé? - lean forwards and draw her into a tender embrace. She collapsed against the other woman's chest and sobbed, choking on a wet laugh when the baby protested the suddenly squished position with a sharp kick.

Thank you, she wept, unable to voice the words properly. I love you. I promise I won't let you down.

And the kiss Donna pressed into Amelia's hair felt like a truer benediction than that of any god.

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

☀️ on sunshine ☀️

charliedonna fic - 7250 words - rating: M - read on ao3

art by myself and @limbel - view full piece

“The two biggest rays of sunshine this side of the Atlantic,” Dean grins. “It’s fitting you two are finally meeting.”

Charlie knows all too well what it is to smile for everyone but herself. And after months of running across Europe to retrieve the Book of the Damned, she’s grateful for a change of pace when Dean suggests they spend the weekend with Donna and Jody in Sioux Falls. So now it’s spring, Donna is beautiful, and from the second Charlie lays eyes on her she wants to figure out who really lives behind Donna’s sunny smile.

thanks to @magdaclaire for the beta!

Charlie meets Donna for the first time, and is greeted with the widest smile she’s ever seen.

On the drive up, with ABBA playing in the background because Charlie has Dean wrapped around her little finger, Dean had promised a change of scene in Sioux Falls, a change of pace. Getting out of the tense coffin of the Bunker would be good for both of them: it would let Charlie unwind after being on the run for so long and it would let Dean forget, hopefully, about the mark burning its way through his arm.

Jody has a proper backyard, he’d said. Actual sunlight, and some room to breathe. And Donna is stopping by for the weekend, too, so you’ll get to meet her as well. Donna’s awesome, possibly the smiliest person I’ve ever met. 

He’d looked over at her then, eyes off the road, fondness rolling off him in a way he always hides when the others are around. Well, maybe apart from you. 

So it’s a smile she’s greeted with from Donna now, just as Dean had said. A welcoming, friendly, gorgeous one, as Donna holds open the door and beams hello.

“Hello you two! Jodes, they’re here!” she calls to the hallway behind her, before turning back to them and stepping down to wrap Dean in a warm hug. 

“And you must be Charlie,” she grins, disentangling herself from Dean and turning to where Charlie is standing beside him.

“Hi,” Charlie replies, giving her a little wave. The second she does it it feels stupid but Donna returns it easily, before taking Charlie’s wrist lightly and pushing it aside so she can wrap Charlie into a proper hug, just like she had Dean. 

Charlie barely has time to consider the feeling of the worn pads of Donna’s finger gracing the skin of her arm before she’s wrapped in her embrace wholeheartedly, everything suddenly the orange of Donna’s flannel. 

Donna doesn’t just smile, then, she follows through with affection. How much of Charlie’s body can she feel in the lack of space between them? She probably thinks nothing of it, if she introduces herself through hugs full of so much love. So Charlie should think nothing of it either. 

So Charlie thinks nothing of it as Donna releases her again, and leaves her cooling in the afternoon spring air. 

“Didn’t want to crush you or anythin’,” Donna chuckles, motioning to the wrist she’d moved aside what now feels to Charlie like a lifetime ago. 

“Yeah,” Charlie smiles a little breathlessly back. “I get it. You give really good hugs.”

Donna beams at the words, and as light seems to pour out of her, teeth dappling the rays, Charlie suddenly understands how a smile can be equated to sunshine. 

“Oh, you really think so? Well, I try my best. And you know you’re not too bad yourself - I find folk like you who are all wiry and strong are always the best huggers.”

Charlie is saved from trying to find an acceptable response to that by a fond voice coming from further within the house. 

“Donna, don’t tell me you’re leaving our guests on the doorstep again!” 

A woman steps into the light of the doorway just as Donna turns a bashful look towards Charlie and Dean. 

“Jody,” Dean greets her warmly, taking Jody’s cue and stepping up into the house, dropping his and Charlie’s bags to wrap her in a real bear hug.

Charlie lingers on the step slightly, not sure there’s enough room in the front corridor for her. 

“Come on in, Charlie,” Donna says quietly with a nod of her head beckoning Charlie inwards. She shuffles herself to the side so Charlie can walk properly into the house. The doorway is still small, though, and Dean and Jody are still hugging, so Charlie only really has space to press herself up against Donna to squeeze inside. 

As she passes, Donna’s breath heats the side of her neck, the ghost of the slightly awkward smile Donna lets out condensing itself onto her skin. They were closer when they hugged, setting themselves against each other with a friendly warmth. But this, somehow, feels more intimate. 

Charlie slips past and is finally free within the berth of the corridor, with Dean and Jody moving further up and taking the bags with them. Donna still lingers next to her.

“And this is Charlie,” Dean says, gesturing between Charlie and Jody. “Jody, Charlie; Charlie, Jody.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Jody says, squeezing Charlie’s hand in a hearty handshake. Her demeanor is slightly rougher than Donna’s, maybe, but her eyes are still sparkling with camaraderie. 

“And you,” Charlie replies as she flashes a smile. “Dean says such awesome things about both of you. He could barely speak about anything else the whole drive here.”

The women turn to look at Dean with a fondness he doesn’t appear to really know what to do with. 

“Oh, you know I love you all,” he huffs, eyes cast down to where he’s scuffing his feet along the carpet. He clears his throat and looks up, only to make a beeline to the bags and the stairs. “Where’s the best place to put these?”

“I’ll show you,” Jody says, exasperated smile evident in her voice. She grabs a bag out of Dean’s hand and slings it over her own shoulder before heading up the stairway, closely followed by Dean.

Charlie is left standing next to Donna in the hallway, the space around them suddenly feeling abundant and empty. Empty, in particular, of reasons for them to be standing so close together. 

Out of politeness more than any real want, Charlie reshuffles herself to lean against the wall, facing Donna. It isn’t a long time that passes, then, but enough for Charlie to take Donna in properly. She’s got an orange and pink flannel on - lesbian colors, Charlie’s brain helpfully and needlessly supplies - tucked loosely into sturdy bootleg jeans that cling to her wide thighs. The seams are stitched in yellow and look almost ready to burst. 

The fire that that image starts up in the furnace of Charlie’s belly is fierce and quickly ignored. She lets her gaze glide away like she used to do with the windows of lingerie stores at the mall. 

Donna brushes a stray strand of wavy hair that’s fallen out of her low ponytail behind her ear, and it draws Charlie’s eyes back to her again. So far, Donna hasn’t stopped looking at her. She shoots Charlie a small smile. 

This silence, after the bustle of their arrival, should be awkward. Maybe it is, a little. But there’s something about Donna that puts Charlie so at ease she doesn’t really mind.

“Would you like a drink?” Donna offers with a smile, gesturing towards what must be the kitchen.

“Sure,” Charlie says back, making sure to shoot her a grin. 

Donna pads through to the kitchen with Charlie in tow, flicking on the coffee machine at Charlie’s nod.

“So did you arrive today too?” Charlie asks.

“Oh yeah, drove down this morning. Got here in time to have lunch with Alex before she went out for the weekend with her friends.”

“Alex is Jody’s kid, right?”

Donna smiles. “Yeah, basically. Although she’s feelin’ more and more like mine too, what with me spending so much time down here recently. It’s like I live here as much as Stillwater now.”

Suddenly, the orange and pink flannel doesn’t seem as irrelevant as Charlie first thought. Donna driving for hours to live with Jody and a kid who feels like her own - maybe she’s unavailable in a completely different way than Charlie expected. 

And as much as she loves Dean, it’s definitely the kind of thing he’d neglect to tell her.

“Oh, are you and Jody together?”

Donna turns to her with a chuckle. “Oh, no, nothing like that. That’d be cute, but, uh. Jodes is just teachin’ me how to hunt and we’re good friends, is all.” She pauses, before adding, “not that I have any problems with it. At all.” 

Her last words come out glittering, more meaningful than the rest. Charlie isn’t oblivious, but it’s not enough to go on, either. Not for the first time, Charlie mourns how girls in bars are so much easier to work out than any of her friends.

Again tucking her hair behind her ear with one hand, Donna passes Charlie’s mug to her with the other. It’s handpainted, by the looks of it, with swirls of pink, purple and blue decorating the sides.

Charlie admires it before taking a sip of the coffee. It’s horrific; she doesn’t like coffee. Donna made it for her though, so it tastes a little better than normal. “It’s a pretty mug, did you paint it yourself?”

“I sure did!” Donna says proudly. “Me, Jody and Alex went out for a girls pottery painting night. Had a real nice time painting mine, but Alex’s is by far the best.”

She shows off the mug she’s drinking her own coffee from, which has three recognisable little figures painted around the sides. Jody, Alex and Donna are labeled neatly above each one. 

Charlie whistles. “Wow, she is good. And mini you is so cute!”

Donna smiles, the upward curves of her lips then hidden as she takes a sip of her coffee. Her eyes linger on Charlie until they don’t, until Charlie realizes she should probably glance away too.

“What about you,” Donna asks with a satisfied sigh after her drink of coffee, “you got anyone?” 

Charlie shakes her head. She steadies herself too, for what she’s about to tell Donna, like she always does. It’s still instinctual, universes later. “No, not anymore. I traveled with this girl, Dorothy, for a while, but I had to come home in the end and she wanted to stay out there, so.”

That’s the simplest way of telling it, she’s figured.

“That’s rough, I’m sorry,” Donna says, face falling in sympathy. Charlie reckons it’s the first time she’s seen Donna look anything other than joyful since she arrived. 

The smile flickers back a second later though, and Donna nods encouragingly. “But hey, it just means there’s somebody else right here who’s perfect for you. Everything’ll work out.”

There’s an assurance in her words that unearths Charlie a little. She is suddenly aware that with Donna, she doesn’t really know where she stands. But Donna is looking at her like she really is hopeful for Charlie. In the breezy light of the kitchen, maybe Charlie can invest in a little blind optimism too.

“You really believe that?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Donna shrugs. “I have to.”

There’s something more to Donna, Charlie estimates, with the fixed determination in her eyes and the supposed levity of her smile. She’s holding on.

The heavy footsteps of Dean and Jody plodding down the stairs and across to the kitchen break the hush of their conversation and the intensity of their gazes. Donna jumps into cheery action, offering coffee to Dean and Jody. 

“You two getting along?” Dean asks, happily accepting the mug Donna passes to him. 

Donna smiles at Charlie. “Oh, you betcha! She’s a real sweetie.”

A heat spreads across Charlie’s cheeks, one she knows will be fluorescent against the weedy paleness of her skin. Damn ginger genes. She takes another sip from her coffee, hoping to hide her flush with her mug. She glances over to Donna as she does so though, and shoots her the warmest look she can muster in exchange.

“The two biggest rays of sunshine this side of the Atlantic,” Dean grins, oblivious to it all. “It’s fitting you two are finally meeting.”

“Keeping two old grumps like us smiling is quite the feat, but you two sure do it,” Jody heartily concurs, raising her mug slightly as if in toast.

Donna ducks her head and chinks her mug with Jody’s, as Charlie chuckles, reaching up to mess with Dean’s hair. “Well, someone has to.”

“And you do it brilliantly,” Dean says softly, the tenderness of his words completely undermined by his forceful batting away of Charlie’s hand. 

“We left your bag on yours and Dean’s bed by the way, Charlie,” Jody says. “You’re in Alex’s room and she has a double, but there’s no room for a mattress on the floor.” She gives her an apologetic grimace. “I hope that’s alright.”

“You’re welcome to stay in my room if you’d rather,” Donna chimes in, looking towards Charlie. “It’s just one bed still, but it’s a little bigger.”

It’s a kindness, another obvious example of the way kinship just seems to stream out from Donna and light the surroundings. But it’s also a dangerous game: sharing a bed, sleeping with her. One that never ends well, and that she’ll fall for all too quickly. 

The implications of Donna’s suggestion ricochet around Charlie’s head. Dean, on the other hand, is safe and easy, and doesn’t send Charlie reeling when he does something as simple as hold the door open for her.

“Thanks, but I’m sure me and Dean’ll be okay,” she smiles instead. 

Donna’s eyes darken for a second, but her kindness doesn’t. “No worries! If he starts getting smelly though, you’re always welcome.”

“Old and smelly,” Dean laments. “Is this all I am to you now?”

“Always,” the three women laugh fondly. Dean just sighs and shakes his head. 

Jody collects the now empty mugs of coffee from everyone’s hands and pushes them towards the sink, before gesturing out the window. 

“I’ve got some new fruit trees growing in the backyard if you guys wanted to take a look before it starts getting dark?” she asks, much to Dean’s immediate joy.

“Sure!” Charlie agrees, eager just to see something green and alive after the gray and gray and gray of the bunker. 

She’d had houseplants in her old apartment, before she had to move. And then move again. And then run across Europe. She misses them now, and she’d tried to petition Dean to get some for the bunker once, before he pointed out there was no sunlight down there. Nothing can live without sunshine, after all.

Sometimes, Charlie thinks that’s why they keep her around. 

“Just make sure to say nice things,” Donna chuckles, “Jody’s real protective over those trees of hers.”

Charlie hesitates in her movement towards the door. “You’re not coming?”

Donna shakes her head with a laugh and gravitates towards the sink. “I’ve had the tour already, many times. I’ll stay and clean up.”

She takes the cuffs of her flannel, and unbuttons and rolls the sleeves up in one swift motion, revealing the thickness of her lower arms. The light brown hair which sweeps up them is just visible in the light.

Charlie feels a little dizzy with it.

“As Donna keeps telling me, if you’ve seen my plum trees once, you’ve seen them a thousand times,” Jody says, her chuckle echoing Donna’s. 

No one else seems to care about Donna’s forearms, or the way Donna’s fingers deftly tuck the cuffs of her sleeves up in the fold of fabric around her elbow. 

“Good job we’re seeing them for the first time then,” Dean grins placidly as he heads out the door. 

Charlie makes a beeline to follow before she embarrasses herself when Donna calls out behind her. 

It’s just them in the kitchen. Unlike in the corridor, with its emptiness, the kitchen feels warm and full. And Donna feels too far away. 

“Charlie?” she says, and Charlie whips around to face her.

“Yeah?”

Donna’s large hands clutch the mug she’d given Charlie earlier, the one painted in swirls of pink, purple and blue, as she runs the tap over the sink. Her knuckles are a little bruised.

So are Charlie’s, lately.

“I know you’ve been all over, but now… I think you’re right where you need to be.”

She’s earnest and soft about it, in a way that sends shivers across the hairs on the back of Charlie’s neck. Charlie finds a smile working its way onto her face. She nods, something like gratitude and something like agreement, the words raising a blush on her cheeks. 

Donna smiles again, then switches her attention back to the bubbling water and coffee stained mugs.

Just as Charlie turns away to join the others outside, she catches Donna’s reflection in the glass of the window above the sink. If it were a horror movie, this image would be haunting, different as it is from what Charlie’s come to expect from the other woman. Turns out in real life it’s just sad.

When she thinks no one can see her, Donna’s smile drops. 

**

The evening falls, and it falls visibly, which Charlie realizes is something she is no longer used to. 

In the bunker, the lights are artificial and bright and decidedly on , until she decides to turn them off. They never change, never waver, never indicate the time of day or if the moon is out. The library’s ambient lamps are the closest they get to evening.

And she hasn't realized how stark a difference it is until she spends dinner half listening to the conversation and half watching the sunset through the mirror facing her opposite the window. It isn’t a special sunset: the clouds aren’t spun purple and the sky is never tinged that tender pink. But still, it’s the first sunset she’s seen in two weeks, maybe. 

And she watches the light melt across Donna’s face the whole time. 

It’s not long after the sun has sunk completely below the horizon that the four of them turn in for the night, with three of them having traveled for hours earlier and Jody confessing she considers any night she gets to sleep before 11 o’clock a huge success. 

Dean teases her for it, but Charlie can tell he’s really all too eager to follow suit. The second he gets the chance, he pulls his hearing aids out from his ears with a sigh of relief and flicks them off, dumping them on the bedside table of Alex’s room where they’re sleeping.

“You could just not wear them around Jody and Donna you know, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind,” Charlie points out to him as he rubs at the back of his ears with a pout. 

Dean waves her off. “I just haven’t worn them for that long in a few weeks, it’s fine. Besides, I don’t wanna make things hard.”

“You don’t make things hard, it just makes things different,” Charlie says, stepping right in front of him to make sure he can understand her. “No one minds switching a few things up to make it easier for you.”

She tells him this because she believes it wholeheartedly, and it’s true. It’s times like these, though, that she wishes she believed the same for herself. It’s not like she doesn’t think that Dean and Sam don’t want her around, or wouldn’t drop everything to help her out, because they’d proved that theory wrong a long, long time ago. It’s just the instinctual little things to make herself smaller, more easily digestible, that are harder to shake. 

The princess only ever gets saved if she smiles enough, right?

Charlie smiles at Dean, determined to make him understand that she cares, and he scrubs the backs of his ears again, but more out of bashfulness than ache this time. 

“Alright, alright. Stop being good to me, Bradbury, I don’t know what to do with it.”

“You could get changed and brush your teeth,” Charlie says hopefully. “I want to go to bed.”

Dean rolls his eyes but ambles off to the bathroom, and Charlie takes the time to get changed herself. She throws on her pajamas and then stands in the mirror for a moment, lifting her t-shirt to see her stomach, where the bullet wound is meant to be. 

Castiel healed it weeks ago now, but it’s still strange. The pain of it plays so frequently in her mind; she wakes up remembering it and the nightmare tears through her like the bullet did. In a way, how angels can heal a wound so completely isn’t all kindness. There’s no proof, then, that it still hurts inside. 

Dean wanders back into the room in his pajamas and with minty fresh breath. It’s a Led Zeppelin long sleeve shirt he’s wearing, one Charlie had picked out for him last time they swung by a Goodwill. He barely ever wears t-shirts now, and he rolls his shirt sleeves down too, especially around Charlie. Charlie pretends she doesn’t notice.

“Strange, isn’t it? Took me years to get used to it,” Dean says sympathetically at where Charlie’s hand still ghosts her stomach. He can be quick when he wants to be. 

“It’s odd,” Charlie says. “Like the wound was never there. I know it was, but only I know it was.” 

“Messes with your head, having nothing to show for the pain,” Dean nods perceptively. He perches on the bed, looking up at Charlie with his big labrador eyes. “But it’s still a good thing, though. That you don’t feel pain.” 

Charlie is all too aware of the intricacies of the singular and plural you in the English language, but she swears that in that moment, Dean means it for her specifically. 

“Yeah,” she replies. She wonders if not feeling the pain is the same as not feeling anything.

The conversation dips as they both settle under the duvet, taking a moment to get comfortable. Dean switches off the big light.  

“So,” he eventually murmurs. “Do you like them?”

The words feel loud in the quietness of the night, and Donna and Jody are only walls away. But Dean can't really hear himself if he whispers, and he definitely can't hear Charlie if she does, so when she speaks she murmurs too, facing Dean in the bed so he can read her lips in the lamplight.

“Of course I do,” she says. “I never expected not to.”

“You and Donna seem to get along well,” he smiles, and Charlie isn’t sure if there’s more meaning she should be reading into that than she is. 

She takes up the edge of the duvet in her hands and twists it a little, mostly for something to do. 

“She’s really nice, yeah,” she says carefully. She looks up at Dean then, and feels the carefulness drop away in the warmth of a shared bed with her best friend. “She’s really pretty, too. How did you forget to mention she’s so pretty?”

Dean chuckles. “I thought you would figure it out for yourself, it’s not hard to see.”

“No,” Charlie says, the word coming out as a deep sigh in a way she hadn’t quite intended. “It’s not.”

Dean brings his hand up to near hers on the edge of the duvet, and takes up the little creases she’s been folding into it and squeezes them like an accordion. Charlie can just make out the way his Adam's apple bobs, just the way it always does when he wants to say something but is struggling to.

She waits him out. You’ve got to be patient, to hear Dean Winchester.

“I’m sorry about the way things have been going lately, Charlie. You know that, right?”

He’s staring at the patterns they’re both tucking into the blanket. This was not the way she thought the conversation was about to go.

“Yeah, Dean, of course.”

“What with Dorothy, and the mark, and you going on the run… it’s nothing like what you should be doing.”

He’s refusing to meet her eyes, but in the gold of the lamplight they’re turning an earnest hazel.

“I don’t blame you, Dean, if that’s what this is.” She pauses for a second, the question fizzing on her lips before she gets it out. “Is that what all this is?”

His gaze snaps back up to meet hers, surprised. “No, no. I wanted you to meet Donna and Jody, spend some time together. I thought it would be nice for you.”

“And Donna’s really lovely, and Jody’s kind. And I got to play ABBA all the way here. It’s good, Dean.”

He sighs, obviously unsatisfied with her answer; rolls away slightly to look restlessly towards the ceiling. His hands stay by hers on the duvet, tapping against the folds.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, loud enough for him to hear her say something, if not make out the words. 

He gestures to show he didn’t understand her, but shows no sign of moving to face her. She asks him again, louder this time. Starts tapping it onto his wrist in morse code too, but he cuts her off before she can finish by turning back towards her with an intensity he didn’t have before.

“I want you to be happy, Charlie.”

Charlie stills next to him, the duvet she'd been fiddling with on the bed laying flat between her fingers. 

She does what she always does. She meets Dean’s eyes and smiles. 

“Who says I’m not?”

**

For the first time in months, Charlie wakes up slowly and freely, not to the scream of the alarm but instead to the morning light glowing in warmly from behind the curtains. She didn’t quite close them fully last night, so a slither of clear sunlight arches its way across the room. As she stirs, breathing in a deep, relieving breath, she follows its trail along the walls and ceiling. Little rainbows spiral out from it where it hits the mirror.

She looks beside her, and Dean is still slumbering away. His breaths are deep and even. Although the mark is still visible from underneath his rucked shirted sleeve, for the moment he seems peaceful. It’s nice, that Dean’s face isn’t creased in repressed ire, that Charlie can see all this without even having to flick on a light: this morning, this is just how the world is.

No more bunker, no more shitty motels , Charlie thinks as she stretches luxuriously out under the clean cotton sheets which Jody’s own hands undoubtedly strung up on the washing line. I should live somewhere else. After all this, I’m gonna live somewhere else.

When she does check the time, it reads a comfortable half past eight. Dean won’t be up for a few hours if he can help it - although maybe he’ll be stirred early like her by the light of a genuine sunrise. He must’ve seen even less of them than she has in recent years. Maybe, if he got out of that damn hole in the ground, he would photosynthesize a little and see that the sun was already out there.

As she wiggles gently out of bed, careful not to disturb Dean with her movements, Charlie lets her mind stray to what Donna’s house might be like. Does her bedroom face east and get the sun in the mornings? Is it cluttered and cozy with trinkets and souvenirs, or swept clean and neat? Probably a mix of the two, Charlie decides. Homey, while still being organized, with everything important kept within reach.

It’s as she ponders this that she pads airily down the stairs. In the kitchen, with the large window opening out upon the vivid spring planes of the fruit trees in the backyard, Charlie helps herself to a breakfast of berries and yogurt that Jody recommended last night. It’s all green outside, dewy with the morning. The sour bite of the berries tickles her tongue.

Everything is growing here. Everything is alive.

Charlie is so involved in her cloudless thoughts as she strolls back up the stairs to the hallway, that she doesn’t quite notice Donna stepping out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her until her own forearms make contact with Donna’s still lightly damp skin. 

“Oh, sorry-!”

“No worries,” Donna grins with a smile, not bothering to move too far away. She’s tossed her hair over her shoulder and now the ends, darkened with water, are creating small wet patches on the side of Charlie’s pajama sleeve. 

This morning, Charlie can’t find it in her to mind. 

Donna’s had her hair up in a sensible low ponytail the entire time Charlie’s seen her so far. But after the wet of the shower, it’s curling around her face and down her back in tight ringlets. Somehow they bounce slightly as Donna moves her head, even under the weight of the water. 

Charlie has spent years learning how to keep her friendships with women exactly that - friendships. She is an expert in all things platonic, so she doesn’t even think about how little the towel is really covering Donna’s freshly showered, lavender smelling skin. She keeps her eyes fixed on Donna’s face, on the water-shining rosiness of her cheeks and the single strands of hair that fall in lazily gorgeous curls in front of her eyes.

Charlie swallows down a swallow.

“Your hair is curly? I’ve only ever seen it straight.” 

Donna nods, her face falling from her always friendly smile to one of frustration. “Oh, you betcha. Takes me hours to straighten the damn stuff.”

“But it looks so pretty curly,” Charlie says, maybe a little softer than she intended in an attempt to hide the pout she knows is otherwise audible in her voice.

But Donna is pretty, that’s plain as day, and has been since Charlie slipped closely past her through the door yesterday. And it’s not just the natural curls of her hair that bring this further into the light; with all the layers of flannel removed, all the shields down, the round curves of Donna’s figure are even more evident. 

Charlie forces her gaze back to the (admittedly relative) safety of Donna’s smile. Rather than the wide, sunshiney thing she’d been greeted with so far, it’s morphed into something softer. A little surprised.

“Oh, I dunno-”

“No, it looks real pretty. You should wear it down curly, it suits you.”

Charlie finds herself reaching out to thread a tangle of Donna’s hair through her fingers and brush it neat before she can catch the action and stop it. Donna’s hair is silky, freshly conditioned, and it slips easily between her fingers. 

Donna’s eye catches hers and it’s only then she pulls her hand away, jerkily. 

“Sorry, that was weird,” she starts, feeling the heat flood to her face. 

Donna shakes her head slightly, the gentle radiance of her smile still lingering. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Your hair, it’s soft,” Charlie manages. The words scratch a little as they make their way up her throat. She shouldn’t be doing this.

“Thanks.”

Donna reaches out, now, twisting the longer front strands of Charlie’s hair around her own finger. Yesterday’s flat-iron curls give in to her movement as her hand brushes just slightly against Charlie’s cheek, and the quiet damp of her skin sends a shiver, barely a shiver, through Charlie. 

Her hair’s a little greasy, Charlie knows, she needs to shower. But Donna’s lips quirk up as she strokes her thumb against it. “Yours is soft too.”

“Thanks,” Charlie whispers, just about. 

Donna pulls her hand back away and stray hairs follow the action, ginger turning gold in the morning light chasing after the loss of contact. Some wild part of Charlie runs to strings of spit, her lips pulling away from Donna’s and their connection still not leaving her completely. 

Oh, Bradbury, this cannot be happening right now. 

She sways back, falling out of Donna’s space, away from the lavender scent and the ever-drying blonde curls and the warm blush blossoming on the tops of Donna’s shoulders above her towel. 

“I just always wanted curly hair as a kid, you know. And all my favorite characters had curly hair, I was always kinda jealous of people who had it. People say all kinda things about ginger hair but I’ve just always loved curly.” Charlie gets the distinct sense she’s rambling, and perhaps even more hysterically than normal. 

“Yeah, well tell all that to my ex-husband,” Donna laughs almost sourly, wrapping the towel a little tighter around her again as she starts towards the guest bedroom that seems to be decidedly hers. “Come sit with me as I get ready, I don’t mind,” she calls back to Charlie.

Charlie doesn’t bluescreen often, but she’s pretty sure she hears the dull thunk of the error sound at that comment. Donna has an ex-husband, and she knows Charlie’s a lesbian, and Charlie just ran her hand through her hair, and Donna’s inviting her to sit in her room as she gets dressed as casually as gals who actually are pals.

“You sure?” she asks, wandering to the door. She’s giving Donna an out, if she wants one. Don’t they all normally want one?

“Of course, hon!” 

So Charlie lets herself walk through the door and flop down onto the bed, grabbing a cushion to fiddle with, something to keep her eyes busy as well as her hands. Donna shrugs a bathrobe on over her towel and Charlie knows she doesn’t really need to look away, but she does anyway. The cushion has little purple flowers embroidered all over.

“I can’t imagine not liking your curly hair,” Charlie says, mostly as a means to get the conversation going again, but also decidedly to pick at the thread she thinks might unravel a little more of Donna’s mask. The darkening of her face in the kitchen window has a cause, and whatever the cause is, Charlie wants to hunt it down and eclipse it. It’s instinct.

“Oh, Doug liked me best however I wasn’t,” Donna chuckles disparagingly, as she slides her towel off underneath her robe and lays it on the bed next to Charlie.

The towel is damp, still. Charlie can feel its coolness next to her. Damp with the water that once sat on Donna’s skin, smelling still of the lotion Donna rubbed between her hands before smoothing it over her arms, down her stomach, the wavy cellulite of her thighs.

Charlie wants to reach out and touch it. Charlie wants an excuse to use that towel after her own shower, like kissing through a shared bottle of beer.

“I wore my hair curly, he liked it straight. I put on a full face of makeup, he liked me natural. I gained a few pounds, he told me…” Donna trails off, the reverie clouding her face completely. 

Anger flushes hot through Charlie, a burning passion building on her already quickening heartbeat. “He was wrong, you know,” she says. 

Donna turns, looking surprised at the change in Charlie’s voice. She smiles at the intensity of it. “You’re kind, Charlie. A lot of people say that, but I can never seem to shake the feeling he’s right.”

“I’m not being kind, Donna, not right now. I’m telling you the truth,” Charlie insists. She takes Donna’s hand and pulls her down to sit on the bed next to her. “You’re beautiful.”

It’s only as she says those words that she realizes the potency of them, and how Donna’s hand is now in hers, and how she’s only wearing a bathrobe. Charlie wants to recoil, suddenly, and take it all back. But that would be a lie. And Donna’s been told too many of those already.

The other woman’s eyes are wide as she looks at her. Full of so much, and so much of that incredulous doubt.

Charlie steels herself and raises her hand and brushes it through Donna’s hair again. “I say a lot, but I mean this. Believe me.”

“I would like to,” Donna says, decidedly lightly for a room full of gravity. “Of course I want to. But I can’t.” She shakes her head slightly, like she wants to clear it. When she looks back up at Charlie, her eyelashes are dewy with tears. Her throat bobs beneath her smile.

Charlie caves in, her anger turning to a porous sadness inside. “But it’s over, Donna. He’s over.”

Donna draws in a teary breath. “Maybe people, relationships, can be over. I don’t think words ever are.” She shoots Charlie a grin; it’s a false, self-deprecating thing. 

“You’re still smiling,” Charlie says softly. She runs her thumb over Donna’s, smoothing over the skin like it will smooth over the tired corner’s of Donna’s lips. “Honey, you don’t have to keep smiling.”

Donna wavers in front of her, the expressions on her face flickering like heat on the horizon. Charlie can’t quite make her out, anymore, underneath it, but at the same time Donna feels more touchable than she ever has before. 

“Don’t I?”

Charlie shakes her head. “No, love, you don’t.”

Like rain spilling down and pouring after the bitterest summer drought, Donna cracks. Her face falls completely, her lips pulled downwards in pure, luxurious upset. The tears that had been locked into place around her eyes pool forward and fall. The rosy apples of her cheeks relax too, the smile lines shifting into creases of sadness. 

The mask cascades down around them both, and Charlie sits and holds Donna’s hands, and the absence of her smile feels like being let in on something special and sweet, something secret.

“Thank you,” Charlie whispers.

Donna looks up at her through watery eyes; the light of the morning hits them and the sheen of her tears is clear as glass. 

“What for?” Donna asks, voice gooey and lips still trembling.

“For letting it be me you let the smile fall for.”

Donna heaves in a shuddering breath at that, like she’s scared that what Charlie said just made it real. “It’s not usually anyone, I’m not usually like this,” she sniffs. She glances back up again, and then seems to catch something in Charlie’s eyes, not averting her gaze. “You’re not usually like this either though, are you?”

It goes against every instinct for Charlie not to flash a grin, feels like short circuiting not to come back with a witty remark. But she shakes it off, letting it fall away like Donna did. 

“No,” she admits. “I smile so much my cheeks ache, most days. But without it, it feels like - what do I do?”

Donna nods, taking Charlie’s hands in hers now. Charlie isn’t sure she knows she’s doing it, and she’s not sure who she’s doing it for, but it’s spreading warmth up her arm. “Gives you someone to be, a way to hold everything together.”

Those words tilt Charlie’s world slightly to the left before righting it completely again, like she can feel the gears of her mind clinking right back into place and running smoothly.

“You put it into words,” she breathes.

Donna strokes a thumb across the aching inside of Charlie’s palm. It’s a movement intended to soothe, but it just draws Charlie closer in. With every circle Donna graces against the sensitive skin of Charlie’s heart line her gravity is stronger, more magnetizing. She’s no longer sure where the comfort they’re sharing in each other ends and the sparking press of her fingertips tapping along Donna’s thumb begins. Every flare of contact begs another. Now, everything about Donna is comforting - but nothing about the way she makes Charlie feel is safe. 

Donna worries at her plush lips. They’re a little chapped, and downturned too, finally relaxed. When she wets them with her tongue and leaves them shining and rosy in the morning light Charlie feels the inner workings of herself break and give way.

Donna speaks and her voice is low. “Sometimes it just feels like… I’ve just got to be sunshine.”

And that’s what they are for everybody else at the end of the day, aren’t they? But this morning, by god can that be broken with the dawn.

“I don’t want sunshine,” Charlie whispers. 

“Really?” Donna asks, like she still doesn’t quite believe her. Like she’s sitting here, inches from Charlie’s mouth, realizing she doesn’t have to be who she thought she had to. Charlie wants her to realize it all. Charlie wants Donna to realize her .

“There’s a sun already. Can you see it, through the curtains?” she breathes. “Can you feel it on your back?” 

Charlie lets her hands roam to the tie of Donna’s robe. No inhibitions, no pretenses, she pulls the knot away. Donna leans into her touch, into the cool freedom of the unbroken air. Her skin is still slightly damp; Charlie can feel it all along the insides of her wrists as she takes the edges of the robe from Donna’s shoulders and pulls it tenderly down her soft arms, until it falls away and gives in completely. 

The sunlight pours through the windows onto the fullness of Donna’s back, descending upon the upper curves of her arms. The robe lays around her on the bed. Kneeling naked in the fresh white of the robe upon the flat of the sheets, it looks like Donna has parted the sea. 

Or maybe it looks like wings, spread out across the ground. Like Icarus, and Donna is still glowing, silhouetted in the warm light. Never has flying too close to the sun prompted such sweet a fall.

Charlie feels Donna inhale, feels the intake of breath and expansion of Donna’s stomach against hers with it. 

“I can feel it,” Donna murmurs. 

Her breath is hot and quivering against Charlie’s cheek. 

“I can feel everything.”

With that it’s like Donna’s bashfulness evaporates under the warmth of the sun, and she surges forwards with her hands under Charlie’s t-shirt. Charlie lifts her arms as soon as she catches on, feeling the light hit her skin as she raises them upwards past the shadows. Donna coaxes her t-shirt off of her, over her head, and for the split second Charlie can’t see Donna it’s like being taken out of orbit, out of gravity. When she resurfaces Donna’s eyes are the first thing she sees; the warmth on her arms is the first thing she feels. 

She drops her arms in all their sunlight, runs her hands through Donna’s hair instead. Clutches her close, until Donna becomes more than silhouette and more than a ray of light and is a body, soft and damp and lavender in her arms. Donna is kneeling but Charlie is reverent. She wants Donna’s lips, she wants to taste the lavender and saltwater, she wants to leave that string of spit hanging between them, but she takes it slow. 

She sighs forward, pressing kisses along Donna’s rounded collarbone. Donna melts into her, her hands roaming across Charlie’s back, grazing her lips along Charlie’s bony shoulder. The pads of Donna’s fingers are tracing along her spine. Charlie pulls herself closer, every fuse within her shorting.

“Don’t want sunshine,” Charlie mumbles again, into the soft slope of Donna’s neck. “I want you. Just you.”

Donna breathes, one hand still on her back but the other cupping her cheek upwards. “You have me.”

Their eyes meet in startling clarity, the world dipped in salted caramel all apart from them, together, suspended. Charlie has some of Donna’s hair in her mouth.

And then they’re kissing and Donna’s knee is slotting between Charlie’s legs and her lips are touching hers, and she doesn’t just taste of lavender and saltwater she tastes of something true and real and god, Charlie knows . Charlie knows it all, she knows what Donna means. She can feel everything. 

Beneath the smiles, naked and silhouetted and tender, she can feel everything.

[sastielsfandom]

Happy Birthday to Sam Winchester, I wrote this, an idea I've tried writing for the past few years:

Summary: Castiel is throwing a surprise party for Sam and Jack. Sam knows about Jack's surprise party, just as Jack knows about Sam's surprise party, neither suspect it's for both of them. And are unaware of them help Castiel has acquired to help pull this off.

Or just some birthday fluff for Sam and Jack!

[turboheller]

FIC REC!

a wonderful little slice of life with superb characterisation, soft girls being soft, and big, gorgeous smiles all round. i loved it. go ahead and click the link below to find out for yourself how good it was!

THIS IS SO VERY LOVELY AND I THINK YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO READ IT ACTUALLY

and go show @shealynn88 some much deserved love <3

[glygriffe]

Last Resort

Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Donna, Jody (background Sam and Dean) Event: Sicktember 2023 Prompt: 5- Preventative Measures (Not Taken) Word count: 405 Tag: Crack

Donna left her desk to look through the window of her office. She squinted. The rain was creating a gray curtain on the street, muting the color outside, and the drops fell relentlessly on the glass, blurring her vision even more. From what she could see, most of the few people outside were moving briskly, even if they had appropriate wear for the weather.

The door of her office opened. She glanced to see Jody in the doorframe, battling to close her umbrella while holding her insulated traveling mug. Donna smiled.

“Heya, Jodes!” "Hi, Donna. The boys are not here yet? I thought I saw their car parked on the other side of the street.”

Donna sighed and turned back to the window, still squinting. “Oh, they were here alright. But they said this case required stronger coffee than the ‘weak dishwater’ the department is offering. They went to the coffee shop. You just missed them.”

Jody chuckled. “My, those two are getting picky as they grow older!” Donna looked pointedly at Jody’s traveling mug. The second sheriff quickly shook her head and pointed to her cup. “That’s tea!”, she protested.

Donna turned back to the window. “There they are.”

Jody went up on her tiptoes to see above Donna’s head. Sam and Dean were walking almost leisurely in the heavy rain. The coffee shop was not far, but Sam’s hair was already getting limp and he had to push the wet locks out of his face.

“Have you ever seen them with an umbrella?”, asked Donna. “Claire says it’s not manly enough for them. I think it was just not practical when they were youngsters living on the road and they never formed the habit to carry one.”

Donne made a pout, half approving, half questioning. “Couldn’t they wear raincoats instead?” Jodie’s expression told her she might have a good point.

“They’ll catch their death, I’ll tell ya. They’ll die of pneumonia long before the Musca we’re after could touch them.” “Maybe I could convince them to go see Alex at the hospital for a flu shot next time they come ‘round my house?”

Donna pouted again, more dubious this time.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’d had a better chance if we did a surprise attack, you, me, all the girls, and Claire with a dart gun.” “Do they make flu shots in dart format?” “I was thinking more tranquilizer.”

Donna’s smile turned from amused to wicked. “Now you’re talking!”

[myloversgone]

I love them with my whole heart ❤

For my 7k Followers Celebration ↳ anonymous requested: Dean & Donna

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Prompt from @thesassywallflower​​​ for @spnfanficpond​​​ Secret Santa): Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Pairing/characters: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum, Sam Winchester, Jody Mills, Claire Novak, Kaia Nieves, Patience Turner, Alex Jones

Chapter warnings/tags: finale-fix it, there was no rebar, fluff, domestic, mistletoe, Dean in a black merino wool sweater, pie

Chapter WC: 1850

Author’s notes: LAST CHAPTER BEFORE WE EARN OUR RATING!

This is multiple chapters written in 3rd person POV, shifting perspective in each section. Many thanks and love to my dear @brrose-apothecary​​​ and @stusbunker​​​​.

Text divider by @talesmaniac89​.

Donna’s pleased as punch with how the party turns out. She hasn’t had a gathering like this since she learned about vampires, and it feels good to have joyous energy back in her home.

In the kitchen, she starts to get a canister of coffee going with the buzz of people meeting and laughing together in the background. She senses a wave of melancholy creeping in, and her breath catches in her chest, and then she feels Dean.

“This plant’s burnin’ a damn hole in my pocket, D,” he murmurs against her cheek from behind as he braces his big, strong, skillful hands on either side of her against the linoleum countertop.

“Oh, yeah?” Donna breathes, languishing in his presence as he settles flush along her body from shoulder blades to ass.

“Mhmm. But I ain’t gonna leave it layin’ around for just any ol’ mook in a wool sweater to get his hands on ya.”

Donna huffs a quiet laugh and whispers his name, dropping her chin to her chest.

Dean pauses but doesn’t move away from her. “S’this too much? Too fast?”

Donna shakes her head and slides her way around to face him resting her hands against his broad, solid chest.

Dean Winchester is a killer, so they say. He’s a wall of unforgiving brutality, stealth, and deadly as a cougar. Yet — when he looks at her, when he touches her, when he says her name — Donna’s never felt more delicate and farther from harm.

“No. I just- I can’t believe we finally,” she stops herself, closes her eyes, and shakes her head again like it’ll jog the words loose.

Dean is quiet as he wraps his arms around her.

“Well, we’re here now,” he says, sliding one knee between her two until she’s pleasantly crowded against the counter and he’s resting his cheek on the crown of her head. “Did I tell ya you look like a Christmas present?”

Donna chuckles and shakes her head, sneaking the tips of her fingers up under his sweater to get at the waistband of his jeans.

“Like my Christmas present,” he murmurs, twirling a wave of hair out of his way to run a single finger along one of her crystal straps then spreading two fingers on either side of her strap to graze her bare skin. “Soft,” he whispers ducking in to kiss her jaw, her chin, and then her lips.

Donna sighs into the kiss, her fingers dancing over the hot skin of his torso. Their lips press and slide and twist, slowly finding a rhythm of their very own.

Kissing Dean makes her feel everything she expected and nothing she could ever imagine. They have a history, they’re attracted to each other, but, also, Dean is a physically gifted man, and she can’t wait to find out what else he can do.

“Too many people here,” he whispers against her lips. “Wanna get you alone.”

Donna shivers, bringing one hand up and around the back of his neck. She splays her other hand wide in the middle of his back and swipes her tongue across his bottom lip.

“Tonight,” she replies, leaning back a little to look up at him. “But can we take this slow? I don’t wanna come off like a prude, or a tease, or-”

Dean chuckles and sighs in a satisfied kind of way before tucking her hair behind her ear and closing in to brush his nose with hers then rests forehead to forehead, nodding.

“We got time, let’s stretch out and enjoy it,” he says.

Donna grins, tracing the underside of Dean’s collarbone over the soft wool and feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. “Thank you. I should finish this coffee and get back to the party.”

Dean nods again, unraveling from her body while holding her with his gaze. “I’ll go find Sammy.” He winks, retrieving his beer from the kitchen island and turning toward the dining room.

Donna watches all 6’ plus of lean, hard-earned muscle and that peach of a booty, swagger out through the dining room and disappear into the din of holiday guests.

Donna’s dining and living rooms, and even the enclosed but totally not insulated or heated back porch, are full of people and twinkling lights. When it became apparent that everyone Donna had ever met was going to show up to her party, Donna asked Jody to bring the electric fireplace up from the basement so that people could hang out back there.

Dean’s considering starting a fire in what appears to be a firepit in her snowy backyard when Sam joins him.

“Dude, Donna knows a lot of people,” Sam whispers conspiratorially like they’re surrounded by ghouls and not a bunch of blue-haired, half-buzzed Midwesterners.

“Yeah, well, D-Train’s a god damned delight. What’d you expect?” Dean shoots a tight smile and halfnod to one of the said blue-hairs before popping a bacon-wrapped little smokie into his mouth.

“Did you know there’re fireworks tonight?” Sam asks.

“Nice. Then I’ll start a fire in that pit back there.” Dean nods toward the backyard.

“Are you kidding me?” Sam’s face lights up like it did when they were kids.

Dad would never let us do anything like this. Thanks, Dean, this is great.

“What time’re the fireworks?” Dean grabs another little smokie.

“Eight, I think?”

Dean nods, looking down at his watch, and chewing thoughtfully. “OK, we got like an hour, then. I’ll wait ‘til she gets coffee made to talk to her about it. I guess I was, uhh, distracting her before.”

Sam snorts. “You two are like a couple of teenagers.”

“Now you know what you and Eileen put me through. She comin’ up?”

Sam nods. “Tomorrow.”

Sam and Eileen have slowly been rebuilding what was at one time almost something. Dean admires their tenacity. They’ve been through so fucking much, and they just keep getting back on that horse. Together.

Jody appears beside them with a plate of assorted appetizers and used toothpicks. “You should hear the girls from Donna’s church gossiping about you and Donna in the kitchen.”

She reaches for the little smokies, and Dean snorts.

“Wait’ll they get a load of us by the firepit. ‘Specially if she wears that puffy li’l jacket with the furry hood?”

Dean spaces off into soft, cuddly Donna dreams for a second until Jody echoes his snort. She and Sam are both staring at him like he’s some kind of pervert.

“What? Have you ever seen her in that coat?”

“I have, Dean, and she’s adorable, you’re right.” Jody pats his shoulder. “Can I help clear snow?”

The three semi-retired hunters begin to make a plan to take the braver members of the party out into the cold for the fireworks when Donna joins them.

“Why aren’t you mingling? This is a mingling thing.” She chastises the three of them. “Even Claire’s mingling.”

Jody and Sam both turn their attention to Claire and Kaia, who are chatting with Wendy, Donna’s niece. But Dean keeps his eyes on Donna.

He starts to pull her aside but not all the way into the kitchen because they’d end up making out again, and apparently that’s scandalous for a Christmas party. “Hey, I was thinkin’ about gettin’ your firepit goin’ for the fireworks at 8. Whaddaya think?”

Donna’s beautiful face splits into sunshine. “I like the way you think, cowboy.”

Her new nickname makes his belly flip and his dick jump. He begins to reconsider backing her into the kitchen. “Cowboy, huh?” he purrs back, wrapping his hands around each side of her ribcage.

Donna shrugs and smirks. “Thought I’d try it out and see how it works.”

“Works for me,” he mutters, taking another step and dipping in to press a quick peck to her lips. “Be back in a bit.”

Dean, Sam, and Jody get the firepit burning just in time for the show.

The oohs and ahhs of Donna’s guests are hushed by Dean’s natural ability to focus on what he wants and nothing else. Right now, his focus is 100% on his little bubble with Donna.

He doesn’t think about wasted time, either, because that road leads to so many other regrets. Instead, he holds her close from behind as the Christmas fireworks light the snowy sky and the furry little pom-pom on her beanie brushes his nose.

She’s wearing the coat he likes, and he slides one hand under the hem to smooth the satiny feel of her top.

“Gonna be real sad to say goodbye to this thing,” he murmurs in her ear.

Donna chuckles. “Don’t have to say goodbye, just goodnight. Besides, there’ll be more where that came from.”

Dean groans and squeezes her tighter.

She said she wanted to take things slow, and he honors that. He wants to show her that he’s serious about making efforts and that ‘being present’ thing.

Turns out, though, processing and feeling all the shit of real life brings Dean a sense of satisfaction and closure. It’s a fucking gift that keeps on giving with Sam and with Claire, and he hopes that’ll be the case with Donna as well.

“Thank you so much!”

“G’night!”

“Merry Christmas!”

“Best Christmas party yet, Donna.”

As Donna’s guests file out, the brothers, Jody, and the girls clean up and store the leftovers.

“Ooh! There’s wine left.” Dean cheers then stirs the wine in the crockpot before scooping some out for himself.

“You couldn’t even pronounce it 12 hours ago.” Sam looks at him like he’s a fraud.

“Yeah, well, people change, Sammy. It’s called growth.” Dean smirks at his little brother over the rim of his Frosty the Snowman mug.

Donna walks into the kitchen in stocking feet with a sigh and a grin a mile wide. “I’m gonna wash my face and change into my jams before we do white elephant.”

She’s met with a chorus of ‘me too’ from Jody and the girls. Sam says something about saving wine for them as he ladles out some for himself.

“Gimme ten minutes.” Donna shoots Dean a pointed look.

When she returns, any regrets Dean had about her changing clothes are dashed. She’s wearing an oversized Zeppelin hoodie and flannel pants, and all her shiny, sweet-smelling locks are twisted up in an enticing as fuck disaster on top of her gorgeous little head.

“That my sweatshirt?” he asks, pressing his tongue to the back of his teeth to stop from drooling.

Donna bites her grinning lips and drops her librarian-spectacled gaze to her fluffy bunny feet as she struts toward the kitchen. “You loaned it to me a couple years ago.”

Dean flicks his gaze to Sam who’s poking through the gifts with Kaia before he hops up from the loveseat and darts into the kitchen. Donna’s bent over, pulling a tray out of the fridge.

“We’ve got pie!” she calls out, standing and turning smack into Dean just as he catches the edge of the pastry-filled tray.

“Oh, princess,” he breathes, taking in her surprised but clearly aroused gaze and the motherload of holiday sweets. “You have outdone yourself.”

And Donna grins again.

Chapter Five

Please don’t leave without telling me what you think!

[watermelongirl01]

Sweet Rescue - 02

Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: None, but let me know if I missed something.

A/N: Please, please let me know if you like it, I appreciate all your comments.

5:00 am.

You woke up from a restless sleep, you had something in mind and there was only one thing you wondered about.

Did you have enough pie?

Captain Winchester had said he would be there first thing in the morning and expressed a deep love for your pie recipe. You knew you shouldn’t let on how excited you were about seeing him again, and it was probably best if he didn’t know you cared that much.

But you did care, So fuck that. 

You needed to be sure to have all the pie you needed.

5:30 am.

You slipped into your robe and made your way down the stairs that led directly from your apartment to the bakery below. 

Sure, you could’ve used your kitchen upstairs, but where was the fun in that? Living right above your shop meant you didn’t have to worry about dishes, especially when Donna would be downstairs to help in the shop’s kitchen.

You opened your apartment door and descended the familiar stairs. The cold and the quiet darkness greeted you as you reached the bottom. The large glass windows of the shop let in just enough light from outside to guide your steps toward the kitchen door, where the smell of dough still lingered in the air.

6:00 am

You preheated the oven while you start with the pie fillings.

The kitchen was getting warmer and warmer and your arms started to get sore from kneading the dough.

6:40 am.

The first batch went to the oven.

7:30 am

You set the pies down on the table.

You’d probably gone a little overboard, apple, pecan, cherry, peach, pumpkin, rhubarb, sweet potato, banana cream, lemon meringue, and a few experimental flavors you hadn’t even tasted yet.

Damn, you really went all out.

You sat in front of the pies, trying not to overthink it, but the self-doubt crept in. Was this too much? You didn’t want anyone to think you were some obsessive bitch. Your mind spiraled, Maybe you should’ve just stuck to the basics, and the lecture looped on repeat, getting louder and louder.

Then, you heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway, followed by the rhythmic stomp of boots hitting the ground.

Your eyes went wide with horror. Charlie was here.

Panicking, you ran, making sure everything was off as you rushed upstairs. You jump into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

——

“Oh hey, boss.” The redhead flashed you a grin as you walked into the bakery.

“Hey, Charlie. How’s everything going?” You returned the smile, trying to shake off the lingering nervousness.

“Just opened. Looks like you’re ready for the day, showered and everything.”

“Yeah, I slept through my alarm, so I figured I’d better be presentable.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Was it really for looking presentable, though? Or for washing away the evidence of the hundred pies you baked? Did you even sleep last night?” She placed a hand on her hip, her teasing grin never fading.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You furrowed your brows in exaggerated confusion, trying to play it cool.

“Oh, come on. Poor Donna walked in and nearly had a heart attack when she saw all those dishes.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“Well, poor Donna will be getting a bonus this month.” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, I already made sure of that.” She grabbed her apron and tossed yours at you. “But seriously, what’s all this about?”

“The hot firefighter,” you said nonchalantly.

“Oh, he’s coming today? That’s why you baked for an army?”

“I just didn’t know which pie is his favorite,” you muttered, a little defensive. “Be honest, am I an over-the-top weirdo?”

“Oh, honey, you’ve always been one.” She smirked. “But don’t worry, I’m sure you will be his favorite pie flavor.”

“Oh, shut it.” You rolled your eyes as you headed for the kitchen.

“I’ll let you know when your hot firefighter arrives,” Charlie called after you, her voice full of mischief.

——

“Excuse me, I’m looking for the owner of this place.”

The redhead frowned in confusion, looking up to meet a pair of bright green eyes.

“Oh, you must be the firefighter,” she said with a smile, her expression lightening.

“How did you know?” Dean asked, a little surprised.

“A hunch.” She smiled again and knocked on the door behind the counter. “Hey, boss, the hot firefighter is here.”

Damn Charlie.

Dean’s gaze followed the sound of the door opening, his eyes falling on you as you emerged from the kitchen. Your ponytail was neatly in place, your skin glowing, and your perfect lips tinted in a soft pink.

“Hey, Captain,” you greeted, your smile warm.

“You can call me Dean, sweetheart,” he replied, his eyes twinkling.

“Dean it is.” You took two large pastry boxes and set them down on the counter with a graceful motion. “I pre-selected some pies for you, but feel free to pick anything else you like from the display.” You gestured toward the desserts on the display refrigerator.

“You sure about this?” Dean raised an eyebrow, eyeing the boxes. “Sweetheart, this is a lot of food. You’re losing money.”

“It’s okay, really,” you said with a reassuring smile.

“You sure?” he pressed, clearly not convinced.

You nodded. “And it's not entirely free. It's for the small price of saving my life.”

“But that’s my job.” He chuckled. “Tell you what,” he added, suddenly more serious. “I’ll take all of this if you agree to go on a date with me tomorrow night.”

You flashed him a bright, teasing smile. “You have yourself a deal.”

“Amazing.” Dean lifted the pastry boxes effortlessly. As he looked around, he noticed a box of bakery business cards sitting on the counter. “Is this your number?” he asked, pointing to the cards.

You shook your head. “It’s the bakery’s number, you call there if you want a three-floor cake for your quinceañera.” you said, reaching under the counter for your card. You shoved Charlie out of the way with a playful shove and handed it to Dean. “This one’s mine.”

“I’ll make sure to call you,” he said with a wink.

“You better,” you replied with a sly smile

“Bye, redhead.”

Charlie looked at you with a big smile on her face. “Look at you, all lit up like a Christmas tree.”

——

Jo sat in the common room, watching Sam arrive alone. She raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Hey, Sam!" she greeted. "Did you come in alone?" In all her years at the firehouse, she'd never seen the brothers show up separately.

"Oh, yeah. Dean wanted to stop by the bakery before shift, and I had some errands to run here." Sam explained.

"He went to the bakery and left you behind?" Jo’s tone was more indignant than she intended.

"Well, it's not like that. I do have my own car." Sam tried to clarify, but Jo wasn’t listening. She was too focused on Dean’s absence.

"Amazing. All that just to chase the baker’s skirt?" Sam blinked in surprise.

"Uh, no. I actually think it’s more than that," Sam replied, shifting uncomfortably.

"What do you mean?" Jo asked, leaning in, skeptical.

"I just think he’s ready to date again after the Amara thing." Sam said quietly.

That left Jo momentarily speechless. But before she could react, Dean walked into the firehouse, holding a box of your baked goods. Behind him, a few of the firefighters eagerly followed, eyeing the treats.

"Unbelievable. All this for a dozen of overpriced cookies?" Jo muttered.

"Oh, they’re not overpriced," Dean said with a grin. "And totally worth it. You should try one."

Jo shook her head, refusing the offer.

Dean smirked at Sam while holding up a card. "And guess who has a date tomorrow?"

Jo sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned and headed towards the locker room.

"What’s her deal?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam.

Sam just shrugged.

A sudden emergency interrupted the brothers' conversation, forcing Dean to leave everything on the kitchen table, your personal card included, resting there on top of the pastry boxes.

“Don’t touch my pie!” he shouted, rushing toward the truck.

In the chaos, as firefighters scrambled to manage the scene, your card was knocked to the floor and landed near Jo’s ankle boots.

She looked down at it, her mind racing. For a moment, she considered picking it up, but she quickly dismissed the idea. Instead, she nudged it away with her foot, pushing it down the kitchen aisle. No one would notice, and no one would be hurt by it. Dean would have more time to heal, away from any distractions, and you wouldn’t become just another notch in his belt.

It wasn’t that she hated you, but seeing that card made something twist uncomfortably in her chest. She wasn’t blind to what was happening between you and Dean, but she wasn’t about to let him fall for someone like you, not when he needed space, not when he still had so much to work through. But that moment wasn’t just about protecting Dean’s heart, no, it was about protecting her own, too.

She quickly washed away any sign of guilt on her face and followed everyone to the trucks.

——

"Where the hell is it?" Dean was frantically tossing items around the kitchen.

"Oh, God, Dean!" Bobby's voice cut through the chaos. "What are you doing? Look at this place."

"I left it here, and now it's gone."

"Food doesn't last long around here, son."

"No, not the food, the number. Her number." Bobby raised an eyebrow in confusion. "She gave it to me, and now it has disappeared. I haven't called her yet, and she's gonna think I’m just another player."

"But you kinda are," Bobby said.

It was true. Since the whole Amara thing, Dean had been... well, a little too generous with his attention to women, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his way. But this was different. Bobby had never seen Dean like this before.

"Not the point, Bobby." Dean sighed, clearly frustrated.

Bobby, looking a little too pleased with himself, placed a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Let me tell you what, son. Your truck’s almost out of gas. Why don’t you and the boys take it to the station, and fill the tank? And hey, make sure you take the street that passes near the bakery, just to, you know, say hello."

Dean’s eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face as he grabbed his jacket.

"You’re a genius, Chief."

Dean quickly gathered the crew and jumped into his truck, headed straight for you. Bobby stood watching him go, a satisfied smile on his face. He glanced at the pie Dean had been saving for himself, shrugged, and cut himself a piece before heading to his office. After all, he was alone. No one would ever know.

——

“Uh, Boss?” Charlie’s voice floated in as she gently knocked on the kitchen door.

“Yes, Charlie?” You didn’t look up, still focused on decorating your cupcakes.

“Remember that hot firefighter?” she asked, peeking in.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop piping icing. “Yeah?”

“I think you might want to go outside,” she said, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Confused, you looked up from your work. “What? Why?”

Donna appeared beside Charlie, quickly swiping the pastry bag from your hands. “I’ll finish these for you. Go on.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Fine.” You stood up, but Charlie stopped you.

“Let me fix this.” She patted your head, brushing away what was probably powdered sugar. “Go.”

Still confused, you walked toward the door, but as soon as you saw the red glow outside, everything clicked. Your glass door was tinted red from the reflection of a massive fire truck parked in front of your shop. 

And then you saw him.

Dean.

He was wearing his navy firefighter jacket, the one with the logo of his station on the sleeve. He looked unreal.

You opened the door, trying to act casual, though your heart was racing. You took a quick glance at the fire truck again, then back to him.

“Captain?” you chuckled, your voice betraying a touch of nervousness. “Everything okay?”

Dean took a step forward, glancing around before entering your shop. “Sorry about blocking your driveway, Sweetheart. I just... didn’t want you to think I’m some player for not texting you.”

You blinked, caught off guard, but nodded for him to continue. You had noticed his lack of texting, but with the craziness of the shop, you hadn’t had time to think about it.

“I lost your number,” he said, a genuine tone of sorrow in his voice.

You smirked and held out your hand. “Your phone, Captain.”

He pulled out his cell and handed it to you without hesitation.

“No password?” you teased, glancing at him while you added your number.

“Got nothing to hide, especially not from you, sweetheart,” he said with a playful grin.

You raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see.”

“Date’s still on for tomorrow. I’ll text you the details.”

“Just don’t lose the phone,” you shot back, your lips curling into a smile.

He grinned. “Oh, that’s funny, sweetheart.” Then, before you could say anything else, he leaned in and brushed a kiss on your cheek. “See you then.”

“Bye, Captain,” you called after him, a flutter in your chest as you watched him walk away.

“Marry him.” Donna said behind you, you just rolled your eyes and laughed.

Dean got inside the truck and looked at his brother with a big smile on his face.

“What?”

“Oh, you’re going to fall so hard.” 

“Is that a threat, Sammy?” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Whatever lover boy.”

——

You paced back and forth in your living room, anxiety bubbling up as you glanced at the clock. You’d already changed outfits four times, and you still weren’t sure if you’d chosen the right one.

Donna and Charlie had decided to stay past their shifts to help, but you were still second-guessing yourself.

“I’m sure he’d like you even if you were wearing a potato sack,” Donna said, her voice light as she sipped her wine.

“You think?” you asked, eyeing yourself in the mirror.

“Of course. Girl, he’s smitten,” Donna replied, her confidence unwavering.

You traced the hem of your red dress, frowning as you considered her words. You glanced in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the red dress you’d finally settled on. It hugged you in all the right places.

“Hey, the bakery’s closed,” Charlie said as she entered, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw you. “Oh, he’s going to lose his mind. You look very hot.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“I’m glad we stuck with this one after the hundred dresses you tried on.” Charlie’s teasing tone made you roll your eyes.

Before you could answer, your phone buzzed. You checked the screen, it was Dean. He’d arrived.

Donna and Charlie wasted no time, ushering you toward the door before you could glance at yourself in the mirror one more time. 

You stepped outside, and there he was leaning casually against his Impala, a bouquet of flowers in hand. The sight of him stopped you in your tracks. His head turned at the sound of the door, and his breath visibly caught the second he saw you.  

Dean’s gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, his green eyes lingering as if he were memorizing every inch of you. He straightened up, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment as his lips curved into a lopsided smile.  

“Hey, Sweetheart.” he said, his voice deeper than usual. “You look…wow.”  

Heat bloomed in your chest as you walked toward him. “Hi, Dean. These are beautiful.”  

“They’re nothing compared to you,” he said softly, handing you the bouquet without breaking eye contact.  

“Let me get them in water so we can get going.” You turned to head back inside, but before you could, Charlie popped her head out the door.  

“I’ve got it,” she said, grabbing the bouquet and shooing you back outside. You didn’t even notice she followed you downstairs. 

Dean opened the car door for you, His hand brushed your back lightly as you slid inside, the small touch sending a spark through you.  As you slid into the passenger seat, you smiled at the familiar scent of leather of his car apparently named Baby.

Even at the restaurant, he was attentive, pulling out your chair for you to sit on.

“Tell me about you,” he said, leaning forward. “I want to know everything.”  

You smiled, your nerves starting to ease. “Well, I inherited my bakery from my grandparents. It’s been my passion since I was little. My parents moved away, so it’s just me keeping the place running.”  

Dean nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. There was something in the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.  

His expression softened. “That’s impressive. Takes guts to keep something like that alive.” he said quietly, and the sincerity in his voice made your breath hitch.  

“What about you?” you asked, trying to shift the focus back to him.  

“When I was four, my family was in a fire,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with something deeper, you instinctively reached out, placing your hand on his. He dropped his gaze to where your fingers touched, his lips curving into a small smile.  

Dean’s expression softened as he took a deep breath. “When I was four, my family was in a fire. I’ve admired firefighters ever since and followed them around. That’s how I met Bobby, our chief. He took me under his wing and helped me get started as a Junior firefighter. And now years later, I’m the Captain.”

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re really determined, aren’t you?”

He chuckled. “Guess I am. But when I’m not on shift, I work on cars. Baby keeps me busy, and I fix up my friends' cars too. If I wasn’t a firefighter, I’d probably be a mechanic.”  

“Funny. If I wasn’t a baker, I’d have been a ballerina,” you said, grinning.  

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Oh, really? I think you should still do it. You’d look amazing in a tutu.”

The evening unfolded with laughter, easy conversation, and lingering glances. There was undeniable chemistry between you two, sparks flying every time his hand brushed yours, every time you caught his smile. 

When dinner ended, By the time he walked you to your door, the tension between you was palpable.  

“Thank you for tonight,” you said, smiling up at him. “But next time... I think we should go for a burger.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “So, the rumors are true.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What rumors?”

“That you’re going to be my downfall.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve been dying to do something all night.”  

Your breath caught as he tilted your chin up, his lips hovering just a whisper away.  

“Can I kiss you?”  he asked, his voice rough and quiet like he was holding back everything he felt.

Your heart thundered in your chest, and all you could manage was a soft, “Please.”  

He leaned in slowly, as if giving you the chance to pull away but when his lips finally touched yours, the world seemed to stop. His kiss was soft at first, a hesitant brush of warmth that sent a rush of heat through your entire body.

But when you tilted your head, leaning into him, he deepened the kiss with a quiet groan. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, while his other hand cupped your face as if you were something fragile.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, every motion speaking of the longing he’d been holding back all night. He kissed you like you were the only thing he wanted in the world, savoring your lips every second.

The faint taste of whiskey lingered on his lips, mingling with the intoxicating scent of his cologne. The combination overwhelmed your senses, making you dizzy with how right it all felt.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you struggling to catch your breath. His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek as if he was reluctant to let go.

“You’re even more dangerous than I thought,” he said, his lips brushing yours again in the faintest tease of a kiss.  

“Dean,” you murmured, laughing softly, “you’d better not be married.”  

The sudden tension in his body was subtle but undeniable. Something flickered in his eyes, gone almost as quickly as it appeared.  

“Just joking,” you added quickly, brushing it off.  

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “I know.” His hand trailing down to his side as if it pained him to stop touching you.

Still, before he left, he stole one last kiss, this one softer, a lingering moment that left you breathless all over again.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and full of affection.

“You’ll see me tomorrow, Captain.”

Tags: @aylacavebear @deans-baby-momma @ladysparkles78 @spxideyver @lunaleah @muhahaha303

[shorething]

Does anyone have any fic recs for Dean and Donna being best friends? I'm watching Plush and I can't get over how perfectly Donna compliments Dean's goofiness and how much Dean genuinely likes Donna's cheeriness. Need more of them!!

[ladylilithprime]

One Size Fits, Some Exclusions Apply

Series: Fluffy Faerie Tales

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: background Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: General

Tags/Warnings: Half-Fae Sam Winchester, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Selkie Jack Kline, Sam Winchester Is Jack Kline's Adopted Father, Brief Allusions to Canon-Typical Violence, Selkie Donna Hanscum, Foster Mom Donna

Summary: Thanks to the efforts of Nox and Sam, Matthew Pike has been rescued and relocated to Avalon and a new foster mom who has some concerns. Cas does his best to be reassuring.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Prompt: Day 21: Reward

Read on AO3

IT WASN'T A particularly big deal in the grand scheme of things. Graduating second grade was a milestone, but a fairly basic one. Having perfect attendance wasn't so much a moral success as luck of the draw when it came to catching or not catching the usual schoolyard cold and flu germs that got passed around. Grades were low stakes even at the highest mark, not that anyone would dare say that to a child's face or in range of their proud parent unless that person was a complete idiot.

And frankly, as excuses to have a party and offer complimentary cupcakes at Lighthouse CommodiTeas, Jack's end of second grade graduation was as good an excuse as any and a better reason to celebrate than more emotionally fraught reasons.

Jack sat at his usual table at the front, devoid of the now-obsolete homework and, instead, hosting a medium-sized travel terrarium with a mildly nervous tarantula huddled inside beneath a carefully constructed hide of tree bark and moss. The tarantula was being regularly checked on by its owner, Matt, who sat across from Jack and nibbled on his cupcake. Next to them sat Kaia, Jack's friend from karate, also eating a cupcake and asking questions about the care and needs of the tarantula as she wrote down a list for designing a new, bigger terrarium that would live in Matt's new room.

"I don't know if I should be concerned or not, honestly," Sheriff Donna Hanscum admitted from where she sat at the corner table across the room nearest the kitchen. "I don't want to discourage his interest, but, well... it's a spider, not a cat or a dog. And what if his focus on his pet is just his way of avoiding dealing with anything else?"

"My understanding is that Matt had this tarantula for some time before the... incident that resulted in him coming into your care," Cas said with as much delicacy as he could muster. The inciting incident had occurred on his day off, so he had only heard about it after the fact from Jimmy and been peripherally present for the fallout. "He may very well be focusing most closely on caring for his pet in order to avoid his own trauma, in which case showing care for the tarantula may help establish that, when he is ready to accept, care will be offered to him, too."

"Yeah," Donna sighed, looking down at her cup. Hellfire mocha with raspberry syrup, if Cas recalled correctly. "I just... I guess I'm worried that I won't be any good at this foster mom thing, y'know? I mean, I always thought I'd at least have a mate before having pups."

"Not something I can help you with," Cas said dryly, which at least made Donna laugh a bit. "You care about him and want him to be safe and happy, which is most important. Communicate with him, check in, listen to him... parenting is never going to be a one size fits all sort of thing, though from what I recall from working retail even 'one size fits all' was a misnomer."

"Usually is," Donna agreed. "But I get your point. Just gotta be open to listening when he's ready to talk."

"Exactly," Cas nodded. "And you aren't completely on your own in this, either. You have your pod, and your friends, and Matt will have all of you plus Jack and Kaia."

"Y'all really are great friends," Donna said with a smile. "Don't know too many other kids who would use the excuse of graduating second grade to throw a covert 'welcome to your new home' party for a kid they just met."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Cas lied as he plucked the chocolate and pretzel spider off his cupcake and took a bite.

[deancasbigbang]

Arms Around His Angel

Author: blackhorsedances

Artist: stonelions

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Benny LaFitte/Garth Fitzgerald IV, Gabriel/Kali. Charlie Bradbury/Meg Masters; Jody Mills/Donna Hanscum. Past Dean and Lee Webb; Past Dean and Lisa Braeden; Past Dean and Benny LaFitte. Sam Winchester/Jess Winchester.

Length: 45831

Warnings: N/A

Tags: Alternate Universe. Inventor Castiel, Rancher Dean Winchester. Top Cas/Bottom Dean. Angst. Miscommunication. Hurt/Comfort. Smut. Fluff. Happy Ending.

Summary: “What’s Jack doing, Sam? Garth says he and Honeybee are out most days from breakfast until well after lunch. Jody says he packs peanut butter and banana sandwiches.” Sam shrugs. “He says he’s out visiting Mister Cas. I think he probably found the fort we built that one summer, and is holed up out there with sandwiches for his imaginary friends. Let it be, Dean. The heifers are out in the north pasture. The steers are in the east pasture. There’s nothing out by the fort to worry about.” “Snakes, Sam. There are snakes to worry about.” Sam looks at Dean across the kitchen island, and shakes his head, hair flopping over into his eyes. “You’re the one that told me that a mule will kill a snake faster than you can say ‘snake’, and I believe you because I’ve seen Honeybee do it. Let him be. Ben will be out of school in a couple of weeks, and he’ll be following Ben around like a puppy.” “Heh, you’re probably right.” Dean runs a hand down the back of his neck. “I know I am, Dean. You worry about all of us, but you worry too much. You can’t watch over everyone all of the time.”

Link to Fic | Link to Art

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Prompt from @thesassywallflower​ for @spnfanficpond​ Secret Santa): Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Pairing/characters: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum, Sam Winchester, Jody Mills, Claire Novak, Kaia Nieves, Patience Turner, Alex Jones

Chapter warnings/tags: finale-fix it, there was no rebar, fluff, domestic, mistletoe, Dean in a black merino wool sweater, 

Chapter WC: 2100

Author’s notes: This is multiple chapters written in 3rd person POV, shifting perspective in each section. Many thanks and love to my dear @brrose-apothecary​ and @stusbunker​​. 

Text divider by @talesmaniac89.

Donna and the girls are still dancing when Sam and Dean come in from the rapidly darkening and chilling outside. Sam makes a beeline for the kitchen with the box from the liquor store, and Dean crosses the living room to the tree with a couple of colorful, tissue-filled gift bags.

The girls’ impromptu dance party has Donna feeling warm and euphoric, but the weight of Dean’s gaze and the way he's just out of her line of sight makes her skin feel hot and tight. Just when she thinks she should cut things short and get in the shower, Elvis’ Santa Claus Is Back In Town fills the air.

Donna recalls a time when her ex-husband Doug was still attracted to her and told her his fantasy was for her to do a “sexy dance” to it for him. She never did it because she lacked confidence. But here, safe in her own home with some of the people she loves and trusts the most in this world, she smiles and pushes her hands up into her already messy hair. Donna sways and dips her hips to the heavy beat, and the girls sing along, pretending their thumbs are their microphones like they’re rock stars.

“You gonna see me comin' in a big black Cadillac, oh-whoa-whoa-whoa it’s Christmastime, pretty baby!”

Donna laughs and spins until she sees Dean watching her. His eyes are twinkling gold and evergreen, his heavy lips twist in a smirk, and his arms are folded across his chest. As she sways toward him, his gaze roams her face and drags downward. It makes her breath stick in her chest, and she gasps, but she’s still grinning.

Dean drops his arms open and licks his lips like he did that morning just as she comes to a stop beside him to retrieve her phone from the charger.

“Havin’ fun?” he asks. His voice is close and warm, but it makes her shiver in the best way. She closes her eyes and draws a deep breath. She can’t hide it from him anymore, and she doesn’t want to.

“I am,” she replies, pocketing her phone. When she looks back up at him, what she sees redefines the word swoon, and her breath catches again. “Thank you for coming.”

Her sudden expression of gratitude seems to surprise him. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Thanks for havin’ us, D.” His small, wondering smile, turns to a grin.

Dean reaches up and does that cliched brushing of a stray hair from her forehead. She closes her eyes for a brief moment to savor how close he is and the way he’s touching her. She knows she must look a mess, but she doesn't care about that.

Except she has other guests coming soon.

“Alright, folks,” she says, pulling her gaze from Dean’s... everything and twisting her hair on top of her head with an elastic from her wrist. “I’m gonna hop in the shower and get dressed. People’ll be here in less than two hours.”

Alex claps her hands together and asks Patience to help her start getting the buffet set up.

“What can we do?” Sam asks Donna as he hands Dean an open beer.

Dean’s still eyeing her like she’s personally on the buffet, and she likes that he’s doing it. Sam seems slightly less surprised and uncomfortable with their eye fucking than he did this morning, so that's a good sign.

“Welp, you two strapping gents can get the coolers ready on the back porch with ice and drinks.”

“Copy that,” Dean says, and she has to make a concerted effort not to giggle like he’s said something incredibly thrilling.

Instead, she calls out to Jody in the kitchen. “Hey, Jodes?”

“Yeah?” Jody replies, peeking around the doorway.

“Can you show the boys where the coolers are?”

“Sure thing!” Jody chirps. “Turkey’s done, by the way!”

“Oh, good.” Donna sighs. “Okay, well, I’m off to shower.” With that, she turns and all but sprints down the hall.

She closes her bedroom door and falls back against it, breathless. Since this morning’s events, Donna decided to wear something other than a Christmas sweater tonight. First, though, she needs to try it on.

“Uffda,” she mutters to herself before striding toward her antique wardrobe and opening the doors with purpose. She spots the sumptuous top she had in mind right away. As she begins to examine her selection, there’s a gentle knock at her door.

“Hey, can I help?” Jody walks into the room, and her eyes go wide as she closes the door behind her, whistling low and long. “Whoa.”

“Yeah?” Donna turns back to the wardrobe and closes one of the doors to check out the situation in the full-length mirror.

Jody appears behind her in the reflection. “Donna, that is gorgeous. How have I never seen this?”

Donna shrugs. “Never had the occasion. Or the courage.”

She and Jody study and appreciate the red satin bustier and its delicate crystal straps.

“Wendy talked me into it. Still has the tags on it.” Donna snorts as she walks to her bed to lay it next to the jeans she plans to wear.

“Well, if Christmas Eve isn’t the best time to debut a red satin bustier, I don’t know when is,” Jody says, joining her.

“Right?!” Donna whips her henley over her head and lets it drop to the floor before removing the festive top from the hanger to fit it over her sports bra.

Jody steps in to help adjust the top, and once they have it fastened, they face the mirror again.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Jody says. “Perfect color, perfect fit, and with those jeans-” Jody playfully smacks her friend on the shoulder. “I cannot believe you bought this! But... god, it looks amazing!”

Donna feels like she might bubble over with excitement. She loves the way it feels against her skin, the way it hugs her ribcage, and holds her breasts. It’s luxurious.

“Ya know, it didn’t really cost that much,” Donna says, feeling like she needs to make excuses for treating herself.

“Look at your tits!” Jody exclaims, and Donna does. Again. She can’t stop looking at her tits, honestly. “That alone is worth a million dollars — come on.”

Donna nods. “They do look pretty fantastic, don’t they?” she says.

“And...” Jody pauses then lowers her voice, despite glancing at the securely closed door, before she continues. “Not that I have any idea whether he’s a boob man, or...” Jody gestures around Donna’s hips and backside. “Regardless, that man out there is going to lose his shit.”

Donna tilts her head and purses her lips. “Ya think?”

“I know,” Jody replies. “Now. What’re you doing with this glorious mane of yours?”

Donna chuckles, tossing the bustier back to the bed, and begins to tell Jody about her beauty plan for the evening.

Claire sidles up beside Dean as he dumps a bag of ice into a cooler. “So, uh, you got something other than lumberjack chic for tonight?”

Dean arches a brow and crumples the wet plastic bag into a ball. “No, smart ass, Donna said we didn’t need anything special.” He turns and tosses the ball of plastic into the garbage before grabbing another bag.

“OK, well...” She pauses, shifting her weight beside him as he fills a second cooler. “I may have brought you something. Special.”

Dean looks over at her to find her eyes wide and her lip thoroughly chewed. He chews the inside of his own lip as he balls the second plastic bag to toss it toward the can, misses, and swears under his breath.

“Claire, you should really save your money. We’ve talked about this.” He gives her a pointed look as he flips the lids of the rest of the coolers open.

“It wasn’t that expensive.”

Dean sighs and turns his full attention on her with his hands on his hips.

She’s still so young, and it’s times like these it really shows. She’s a busted-up kid, orphaned by the age of 16. But she has great fucking instincts with zero trust in herself. That’s a Hell of a combo.

He wishes he could teach her things. He wants to tell her that she’s worth so much. He figures the best way to do that is to lead by example.

“OK, well...” He surrenders his hands. “Where is it?”

Claire barely suppresses her excitement as she produces a plain paper bag from behind her back. Dean chuckles and feels a little heat in his cheeks as she hands it to him.

“The fashion blogs all say they’re really versatile,” she starts to babble, a blush darkening her own cheeks. “It’s warm but like not too warm-”

Dean’s heart skips a beat. It’s not often he receives gifts, and as gifts go, this is a nice one. He flicks his gaze to hers and arches a brow. Inside the bag is a black merino wool sweater.

“It’s not like it’s cashmere or something. You’ll still be manly.” She rolls her eyes half-heartedly.

Dean huffs a quiet laugh and shakes his head as he reaches to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her in for a hug. “Thanks, kid.”

“Sure. Now you can be all handsome for Donna,” Claire teases, poking him in the side.

“What the...” Dean scoffs, rearing back in mock disbelief. “Does everybody know about...”

Claire’s eyebrows shoot toward the ceiling of the porch. “About...?”

Dean narrows his eyes and tucks his tongue into the side of his cheek.

“Got the drinks,” Sam says as he walks out onto the porch. “Jody said to do soda in one cooler, White Claws in another, and beer in a third but leave the fourth cooler with just ice.”

Dean squeezes Claire’s hand in his before turning to Sam.

“Hey, look, Claire got me a sweater,” he preens, making Claire roll her eyes again with a giggle.

“Oh, cool, you gave it to him?” Kaia says as she walks out with a case of soda.

“Dude. Are you gonna wear that?” Sam asks, looking like he doesn't understand sweaters, but Dean thinks he’s probably just jealous.

“Fuck, yeah,” Dean replies, brushing past his brother. “You just wish you had one, too.”

Claire and Kaia laugh and Sam shakes his head.

Donna exfoliates from head to toe, and carefully shaves, paying close attention to her more delicate areas. She doesn’t necessarily intend to get naked with Dean tonight, but this routine is a surefire confidence booster. She wants to feel her most feminine and beautiful.

Outside the shower, she uses her favorite scented body lotion and slips into her sexiest pair of panties. They're a shimmery pink, and she likes the way they complement the red of the bustier.

In her bedroom, she sits at her vanity for make-up and hair. She spends just as much time on her lips as everything else combined — red to match her top. Lastly, she removes the shower cap, unwinds the rollers from her hair, and brushes and situates her waves.

“Alright, D-Train, this’s it.”

Donna pulls on a pair of trouser socks, shimmies into her soft, worn blue jeans, and finally dons the bustier. Before walking out into the fray, she steps into her black ankle boots and draws a deep, cleansing breath as she takes one last look at herself in the full-length mirror.

Dean smooths the soft wool under his hand and checks his hair in the bathroom mirror once more before walking out into the hallway. A light, fresh scent like the respite of lime after a shot of tequila wraps him up, and then she says his name.

When he turns toward her voice, he’s almost knocked flat on his ass.

“Well, look at you, handsome,” Donna says with a beautiful, blinding grin framed by the most luscious cherry lips Dean has ever seen. She's all curves, smooth skin, and bouncy golden hair packaged in an outfit so hot Dean can barely breathe. It's just jeans, but...

“Holy shit,” he breathes. “You look fucking amazing.”

Donna’s throaty chuckle chases heated blood straight to Dean’s dick. As Donna saunters closer in the dimly lit hallway, that heat gradually spreads to all of his extremities, making him feel soft and heavy and ready to pull her down with him.

“This is nice,” Donna says, tracing the delicate tips of her first three fingers in a soft line from the tip of the shallow v-neck of Dean’s sweater down his torso. Her hand drops away after just a few inches, and Dean immediately feels the loss.

He nods. “Claire,” he says, reaching into his pocket.

Donna hums and smiles. “She does love her uncle Dean.”

The moment is something that might be captured in one of those Hallmark movies with Christmas lights that make everything shine and the beautiful blonde look like a walking, talking present from under the tree. The biggest difference is Dean’s internal wish to get that present alone so he can slowly unwrap it and play with it to both of their hearts' content. The Hallmark channel is a family channel.

“Found the mistletoe,” Dean murmurs, twirling the small, berried branch between his thumb and forefinger as he holds it aloft. He dips to look at Donna from underneath. “Is it time? Or do we have to wait ‘til midnight?”

Donna smiles so wide, her big, sparkling eyes are framed by a spray of sunshine. “That’s New Year’s Eve,” she replies quietly, taking a tentative step closer.

“Ahh,” Dean whispers, letting her close the distance. “Well, then...”

She rests her hands against his chest, and he dips further with his eyes closed until he feels the warm, lush press of her lips against his.

Chapter Four

Please don’t leave without telling me what you think!