Ever since you found out that Dean had a massive thing for Daphne from Scooby Doo, you began compiling your outfit without him noticing— minus the wig. Halloween was the only time in the year girls could dress scantily and people wouldn’t say a thing, so this Daphne out was kind of— yeah. So Dean’s jaw dropped when he saw it.

Oh, oh, shit.

This wasn’t on his bingo card. His girl — his gorgeous girl — was dressed up, all dolled up as his favourite cartoon character. The boots, the headband, the ascot— he could barely keep a lid on himself. Oh, this was something out of his wildest dreams, oh, fuck. Dean never knew he needed this.

You had him on his knees, especially with how the outfit made your legs look longer and how the top bit was kinda busty— oh, yeah, he liked what he was seeing, very much so. Dean bit his lip, appreciating, well, all of you in that outfit. Somebody warn his girlfriend, he felt himself getting hot.

Hot for that outfit and you in it, that is. “Oh, gorgeous.” He honestly could’ve started a new religion with how you were looking— oh, yeah, you looked like a stunner, his eyes were feasting. He stood up from the couch, beer abandoned.

Dean was so very glad that Sam was out on a solo hunt because he’d instantly be able to see the teenager-esque hormones coursing through his veins at the sight of you as he approached you, took your hand and spun you around. “Look at you.” Yeah, just look at the way that ‘fit hugged you.

He loved.