#i lost my queue

[starduststorms]

insp: x

[ghostwinchesters]

tagged by: @samwincstr​ thanks, babe

rules: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine some people

Tagging: @eruthiawenluin @taliawinters @sahwen @fishtears-unicornknights @fan-male @kvitulven @wendigosammy @elliwhat @interstellarstorms if ya feel like it + @ anyone else who does

Air

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch small animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

Fire

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

Water

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

Earth

i wear glasses/contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love the chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

Aether

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

[pinknerdpanda]

Merry Manda’s Christmas “Drabbles” - 2020

It’s that time of year! I asked if ya’ll would be interested in a 4th installment of Merry Manda’s Christmas “Drabbles” and ya’ll said yes! So let’s do the damn thing!

Alright, alright, alright!

First off, if this is your first year with me, I started this as a way to celebrate the birth of this dumpster fire of a blog - which turns 4 very soon. I honestly can’t think of many things I’ve done consistently for this long. So...yay me? Anyway, if you want an idea of what this has looked like in the past, you can check out my previous work here: 2017 2018 2019 . 

Doing these Christmas/Holiday Drabbles - and I use that term lightly because very few have actually been drabbles - has been the highlight of my year in the past and has allowed me to write some of my favorite fics I’ve done. And given the fact that 2020 has been utter SHIT, I figured we could all use some Merry and Bright. So here’s where YOU come in:

Send me an ask with your favorite Winter/Christmas/Holiday/Seasonal thing and your pairing. It could be a song, an activity, a movie - whatever. Tell me your favorite thing about this time of year and if it strikes my fancy, I’ll do my damnedest to write you a thing. But wait - there’s some fine print:

Reader insert only - no ships please.

For the last three years, I’ve written exclusively for Supernatural, But this year I will be writing for Supernatural AND MCU.

For SPN I typically write for Sam, Dean and Castiel. Other Characters will be considered, but include a TFW backup just in case.

For MCU I have only really written for Bucky, but I am open to and wanting to write for Steve, Sam and possibly Thor. I will consider other characters, but include one of the above as a backup, again, just in case.

I can’t guarantee I will write a fic for every ask submitted. I try very hard, but sometimes life gets in the way or my muse is a selfish bitch and won’t cooperate.

While I love the song despite it’s controversial nature/message, I will not be writing for the song “Baby It’s Cold Outside”. This is only because I have had it requested three years straight and there’s only so many ways to make it new and exciting. Also, I don’t like getting yelled at by Nonnies who take issue with it. I don’t want to offend anyone, so I’m just trying to avoid conflict as best I can.

Send me the asks!

Signal boosts are greatly appreciated!!

If you want to be tagged in my Christmas Drabbles, send me an ask and I will add you to the list.

The Merry Manda Drabbles tag list will be for both SPN and MCU. I will be using my normal tag lists as they apply (Weirdos = everyone, Hunters = SPN, Heroes = MCU).

If you want to be tagged in only one fandom, please include that in your request and I will add you to my permanent tags for that fandom. 

[pinknerdpanda]

This Means War - Part 3

Word Count: 

Part 3: 949 Series: 4.6k 

Characters: Reader, Bucky, Sam, Steve, Natasha

Pairing: Reader x ??

Warnings: Shenanigans, Language, Bickering Bucky and Sam, Sexual Innuendo

Beta’d by @shy-violet-soul - thank you so much, love!

Summary: Sam and Bucky have been battling for Y/N’s affections since they met. How will they fare when she sets a bit of friendly competition to pick the best suitor?

A/N: Series co-written with @princessmisery666​ who will posting the final part tomorrow (4/11/20). If you want to be tagged and are not on either of our taglists, just shoot us an ask. 

This was written for @princessmisery666‘s Triple Celebration Challenge. Our prompts were “Everything hurts and I’m dying.” “Don’t be so dramatic.” and  “Did you just lick me?” and will be bolded when used. Also my co-creator made the bomb-ass title card. Thanks babes! This has been a blast to work on with you!

Catch up! Part 1 | Part 2

This Means War

Part 3

For smart men, they were pretty dumb. How they hadn’t caught on to her scheme she would never know. The second task Y/n had for set them was to prove they could work as a team, without arguing. 

She wanted to switch bedrooms, there was an empty room on the same floor as Steve, two floors above her current room. She claimed the room was better for “feng-shui”, the sunlight hit that room better. It was all a crock of shit, yet Sam and Bucky had spent the last hour and a half hauling her solid oak wood furniture around and positioning it wherever she asked. 

Then re-positioning it when she stated the “angles were off.”

To their credit they hadn’t fought. They’d made snarky remarks to one another but had mainly been civil in discussing how to best maneuver the heavy furniture.

Y/n had propped herself against the doorframe of her new bedroom, arms folded across her chest as she watched the boys work. They’d both removed their shirts - taking the opportunity to flex and show off - and Y/n wasn’t mad about it in the slightest. Watching their muscles ripple and flex under a small sheen of sweat, she had to admit it was a rather enjoyable show. There were worse ways she could have spent her day. 

“What about now?” Bucky asked, taking a step back from the seventh attempt at moving her large bed to the correct place. Hands on his hips he raised a questioning brow and she knew she needed to be careful. He may have been on to her scheme. 

“Y’know,” she tilted her head to the side as if to get a different perspective. “Something still isn’t quite right.”

Y/N put a thoughtful finger to her lips, tapping lightly as she surveyed the room. She stared longer than was necessary, and it was almost comical watching both men hold their tongues and not get annoyed with her. 

Steve slipped into the small gap between her and the door, “ah you finally decided to move up here,” he acknowledged.

She hummed her reply as if still too deep in her thoughts to answer properly.

“You won’t mind my snoring then?” Steve questioned. 

She snapped her fingers, “damn it that’s what I forgot!” she threw her hands in the air, a fake apologetic expression as she looked to the boys. “Guys I’m so sorry, I forgot Cap snores. He did warn me. I’d be able to hear him in here.” 

They stared at her for a long moment, not quite catching on to what she was getting at. 

“Can we move it all back?”

She had said ‘we’ - but there was certainly no ‘we’ in Team, she hadn’t lifted a finger except to direct them into the correct positions.

“What!” Sam asked clearly perplexed at the same time Bucky groaned, “right now?” 

“Why don’t you two take a break?” Steve suggested walking further into the room, “I’ll help her move it back.”

“NO!” They chorused together. 

“We got it,” Sam assured him. 

Bucky agreed, “yeah go do some Captainy stuff.”

Steve shrugged but took the hint and wandered out of the room, Y/n followed after him, “I’ll go get you both a drink.” 

She hadn’t made it two steps before she heard Sam whine, “everything hurts and I’m dying.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Bucky responded and she could hear his eye roll, “but same!”

----

Two hours, eight trips back and forth between floors, two sweaty Avengers and a hell of a lot of complaining later, Y/n surveyed the fruits of their labor.

Brushing her hands together she smiled warmly at Sam and Bucky, their chests heaving as they lay prone on the floor.

"Good work, guys. We really knocked that out of the park!"

"We?" Bucky scoffed, too tired to layer on an ounce of charm. 

Y/n shrugged innocently, biting back the smile threatening to jeopardize the effect of the gesture.

"Well, I appreciate your help all the same. This is exactly how I imagined it!" She clapped her hands together excitedly.

Sam grunted. "It's exactly like it was before we touched anything."

Y/n frowned. "I mean, if you think I'm more trouble than I'm worth, I understand. You can always back out. I -"

Bucky's groan cut her off as he scrambled to his feet. 

"Of course not, doll. Don't listen to feathers over there. You're no trouble at all. I'm in this for the long haul. Sam, however…"

Sam was on his feet, limping over and pushing Bucky out of the way before shooting Y/n a tired but brilliant smile. 

"Sam, however, has no problem kicking an old man's ass," he winked at you, ignoring Bucky's growl. "It's no trouble at all, darlin'."

Y/n ducked her head. It may have seemed she was hiding her blushing cheeks, but it was really to conceal her shit-eating grin. She had them eating out of the palm of her hand.

Clearing her throat, she looked up again, blinking at them sweetly. "I'm so glad to hear that, gentlemen." She checked her watch, eyes growing wide. "Oh! We're just in time for the next challenge. Get showered and dressed. I'll meet you in the conference room in half an hour!"

Y/n threw her door open, gesturing for them to leave. Sam shook his head as both men allowed her to usher them into the hallway. Bucky stopped and turned to face her.

His brow furrowed. "Conference room? Isn't that where Banner's giving his seminar on gamma radiation?"

Y/n's smile grew impossibly wider, a wicked glint in her eye as she nodded. 

"See you there, boys!"

To Be Continued...

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

FYI I’ve updated my tag list, so if you don’t see your name below and want to, send me an ask. Weirdos are for everything, Heroes is MCU and Hunters is for SPN.

Weirdos:

@hannahindie​ @amanda-teaches​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @masksandtruths​ @princessmisery666​  @jamielea81​ @foxyjwls007​ @becs-bunker​ @super100012​ @shy-violet-soul​ @emoryhemsworth​​

Heroes:

@arrowsandmixtapes​ @bethbabybaby

[pinknerdpanda]

Merry Christmas, Asshole

Word Count: 1,172 Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam and Cas mentioned Warnings: Dean being a pain in the ass, the fuck word, fluff Requested by: @feelmyroarrrr​ Beta’d by: @shy-violet-soul​ - thank you my love! xoxo

A/N: This was written for my Merry Manda’s Christmas Drabbles. 

Gif credit x

Merry Christmas, Asshole

“Too bendy.”

Of all the absurd objections he’s made over the last 30 minutes, this one takes the cake.

“What does that mean, Dean? Too bendy?” You sigh, exasperated.

Dean shrugs before flapping his hands around the tree in some semblance of a gesture.

“I don’t know. Will it even hold any ornaments?” He flicks a branch and frowns. 

You groan, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to suppress a snarky retort.

“Ok, too big, too fluffy, too skinny, too tall, too pointy, too sad, too bendy,” you place your hands on your hips and kick at the dirt at your feet. “This is getting a little ridiculous.”

Dean simply shrugs again, the nonchalance of the gesture grating on your nerves. You roll your eyes and stomp off, in search of a tree that’s not too whatever. The trudge of Dean’s boots behind you is soft but steady. He knows better than to crowd you when you’re upset, but he doesn’t want to leave you by yourself, either. It’s irritatingly endearing.

Looking through the rows and rows of pine trees you finally spot it. It's absolutely perfect. Not too tall or fluffy, but not skinny or bendy either. It made all the other trees you’d thought perfect before look like garish cartoons. This is the tree. 

You turn to Dean triumphantly, only to have your joyous bubble burst when you find him scowling at the conifer. As hard as you’d tried to grit your teeth and endure his piss poor attitude toward your little outing, you’ve had it. That little crease between his brows and frown pulling down the corners of his lips - that’s the proverbial straw that breaks your proverbial back.

“What?!” You roar at him. He jerks his gaze to you, clearly startled. 

“Y/n,” he coos, confused.

“No, Dean! What the hell is wrong with this one?” You shout. A young family down the row shuffles along, clearly wanting to avoid the tense scene. “What are you going to say next - it’s too green?!”

Dean’s gaze flicks to the tree before he meets your eyes again.

“Well now that you mention it…”

You’re stomping off before he can even finish his thought. The anger is radiating off you in pulsating waves so strong it feels like crowds of people yards away from you are already beginning to part as you approach. 

“Y/n! Wait!” 

Dean grabs your arm and you stop, jerking yourself free and whirling on him.

“All I wanted was a Christmas tree, Dean. I didn’t ask for presents or a fuckin’ sleigh ride or a single glass of eggnog. All I wanted was a tree with some lights and a few little ornaments. And you,” you jam a finger in his chest, “have been such a pain in the ass today, now I don’t even want that. Thank you, Dean. Thank you for ruining Christmas for me this year. I hope you’re fuckin’ happy, you asshole.”

You’re halfway across the parking lot before remembering that asshole or not, he’s still your ride back to the bunker. Finding the Impala, you pace back and forth, stewing in your aggravation as you wait for him to catch up.

On your third lap of pacing, Dean appears, his head down and his shoulders slumped. Without saying a word, he unlocks the car and starts it before leaning over to unlock the passenger side door. You slide in the seat and slam the door closed, angling your body away from him as he backs out of the parking lot and steers you both home.

The ride to the bunker is silent, except for the sound of tires on pavement and the steady hum of the heater keeping the cold air at bay. You’ve got the door open and slammed shut behind you before he’s even turned the engine off.

A small part of you knows you’re overreacting. That, in the grand scheme of things, this is really not that big of a deal. But it doesn’t seem to quell the frustration and disappointment running rampant throughout your mind. 

The familiar scent of old books and coffee hits your nose as you step inside the bunker and begin to descend the metal stairs. The whirring of 50 year old machines you’ve grown accustomed to is accompanied by the faint sound of music. You’re too focused on marching straight to your room to take note of the song.

Just as you pass by the library, however, the soft twinkle of lights stops you in your tracks. Stepping inside, you find the room has been transformed as if by magic. Strings of white Christmas lights line the walls, casting a warm glow on the rich wood tables and floor. Four woven stockings are hung on the far wall, each painted with a name. Sam. Cas. Dean. Y/n.

Just to the right of the stockings is the most beautiful fir tree you’ve ever seen. Its lush, green needles are wrapped carefully, branch by branch, with white lights, making it seem to glow from the inside out. Red, green and white ornaments hang in meticulously spaced intervals and a lovely golden star crowns the very top of the tree. The music you’d heard earlier, you now recognize as The Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack. Your favorite.

 It looked like something from a magazine and the sight steals the breath from your lungs.

“I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

Dean’s breath against your ear startles you, but when you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind, you melt into him. He hums, holding you a little tighter as the tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

He loosens his grip as you turn in his arms, facing him. He lifts a hand to your cheek, brushing away the tears, first from one side and then the other.

“When did...how..” you stutter, drawing in a shaky breath, trying to calm the overwhelming emotions inside you.

“I had Sam and Cas set this up while we went out and then had them make themselves scarce for the evening,” he smiles. “I was trying to surprise you, but I think I might’ve gone about it the wrong way.”

You sniffle, pressing your forehead against his. 

“Thank you so much. I’m sorry I yelled at you, Dean. You didn't ruin Christmas. This is...this is perfect.”

He pulls back. “No. You’re perfect.”

“I called you an asshole,” You snort, sniffing again. “Scratch that, I screamed that you were an asshole in public.”

Dean grins. “I know. That’s why I love you.”

He kisses you slow, his lips soft and firm against yours and you hum approvingly when he parts them. You can taste the salt of your tears on his tongue as he kisses you breathless.

Dean pulls away, but presses two more quick kisses to your lips before smiling down at you again.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.”

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him again, chastely. 

“Merry Christmas. Asshole.”

---

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :) 

My Forever Tags - Stay weird. I love y’all:

@wheresthekillswitch​​ @pretty-fortune​​ @arryn-nyxx​​ @emlostinwonderland​​ @becs-bunker​​ @cookie-dough-lova​​ @impandagrl​​ @maddieburcham1​​ @trexrambling​​ @beachballsizeladyballs​​ @hannahindie​​ @rosie-winchester​​ @winchesterprincessbride​​ @that-writer-one​​ @fandomismyspirit​​ @angelsandwinchesters​​ @cfordwrites​​ @charliebradbury1104​​ @mogaruke​​ @luulaachops​​ @supernaturaldean67​​  @barbedwireandbubblegum​​ @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​​ @muliermalefici​​ @galaxy-jellyfish-queen​​ @canadianjelly​​ @kathaswings​​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @lorilane33​​ @bethbabybaby​​ @myfanficlibrarium​​ @akshi8278​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @boxywrites​​ @atc74​​ @anticipate1003​​ @super100012​​ @lovesj2m​​ @masksandtruths​​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​​ @growningupgeek​​ @there-must-be-a-lock​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @amanda-teaches​​ @cassieraider​​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​​ @its-my-perky-nipples​​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​​ @sandlee44​​ @paintrider13-blog​​ @arses21434​​ @petra-arkanian-1497​​ @sasbb23​​ @princessmisery666​​

[pinknerdpanda]

Perfect

Characters: Dean x Reader Word Count: 2,006 (including lyrics) Warnings: Fluff, self-doubt, a teeny-tiny bit of angst if you squint, flustered!Dean, the song “Baby It’s Cold Outside” (see A/N 2 after the story) Requested by: @sandlee44​ Beta’d by @shy-violet-soul

A/N: This was written for my Merry Manda’s Christmas Drabbles - though this is decidedly not a drabble. Ya’ll...I just have too much to say to be concise. Brevity is not my strong suit and, for that, I apologize. Ok, I lied. I’m not sorry. Enjoy a little Dean fluff this holiday season. 

X

Perfect

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face, surveying the labors of his work. He’d spent the last two hours meticulously arranging and rearranging the room. He still wasn’t happy with the way the fuzzy, white blanket was draping across the arm of the sofa. It was too...something. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath as he picked up the blanket, shook it out and placed it again. He wanted it to look perfect without appearing like he’d spent too much time making it seem that way.

The candles had been the most difficult part of the setup. At first he’d lined them up fastidiously, spending way too long making sure they formed a crisp line around the couch. Taking a step back, he’d hated it and fought the urge to toss every last candle into the snow. After searching online for the most aesthetically pleasing configuration, he’d chosen to group them in odd numbers in various spots around the space.

There weren’t many things Dean Winchester had spent this much time agonizing about. Then again, there weren’t many things worth the effort.

But you were.

He’d fallen hard over a game of pool a year ago. You’d kicked his ass and laughed when he asked for double or nothing. The mischievous gleam in your eye as you sauntered away from him had his heart in knots and his mouth dry as sand. He’d been falling ever since. 

He’d wanted to ask you out for months, now, but somehow always found his courage failing him. He felt ridiculous; he fights demons and monsters every day of his life, for Christsakes, but you - with your shiny hair and bad dad jokes - had him shaking in his scuffed boots.

Until last night.

The hunt had almost ended badly. The vampires turned out to be shacked up with a coven of witches and their combined power had sent you both reeling. But, you’d both made it out with minor scrapes and bruises and a hell of a lot of dead monsters in your wake. When he found you wiping blood off your chin with a dirty bandana you’d dug out of the trunk, the words had come out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop them. Maybe it was a lifetime of what-ifs and abandoned futures, or maybe it was the thought that he could have very nearly lost you before knowing the feeling of your lips against his, but the courage he’d been lacking met him head-on. Well, sort of.

“Y/n, I know this isn’t the best time,” he’d ducked his head, bashfulness trying to crawl it’s way out, “but I really like you. I know this life is messy and there’s no promise of what tomorrow will bring...I mean, I guess that’s true for everyone, not just hunters. Although, it definitely holds true for people like us. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, I mean it’s almost Christmas, and they say it’s one of the most romantic times of the year. And if you’re not interested, I’ll never mention it again, but I think you might be…”

You’d cut him off, trying to hide a blushing smirk from your face. “I’d love to go out with you, Dean.” You crossed your arms over your chest, looking down. “I was starting to get worried you’d never ask.”

Dean had never been so elated in his whole life.

But that was yesterday. 

Today, with the excess adrenaline from the hunt now waned, and his unrealistic expectations of what a perfect first date with you should be, the anxiety was getting the best of him. He’d known immediately that he’d wanted to hang back at the cabin he’d rented rather than go out to a loud bar or busy restaurant. The fact that he already had a romantic fireplace setup was a stroke of luck he’d never expected to have. But now he worried if you’d think the idea too forward. Maybe he should call one of the nearby restaurants to see if they had reservations left.

Dean pulled out his phone to make the call when he heard a knock on the door. He glanced at the clock - 7:30 pm. Of course you’d be on time. Dean tucked his phone back into his pocket and rubbed his hands on his jeans. He gave the room another glance and sighed. It’s now or never.

---

The chilly December air was thick and froze your breath as soon as it left your lungs. You fiddled anxiously with the hem of your sweater as you waited for Dean to answer the door. If it wasn’t for the glossy black car sitting outside, you’d wonder if you were at the right cabin. Maybe you should have worn something nicer, but Dean had been vague about the details of your date, so you opted for comfort - a pair of jeans, an oversized sweater and tall boots - over fashion. Standing here at his door, however, you wished you’d dressed up a little more.

Just as you raised your hand to knock again, the door swung wide, startling you. Dean smiled, and you were a little relieved to see that he looked just as flustered as you felt. Who’d have thought the Dean Winchester would get nervous about a date.

“Hey,” he breathed, his cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

“Hey yourself, Winchester.”

Dean stepped back and held his arm out, a silent invitation to come inside.

The cabin was small, but stunning. Flames danced along the tops of dozens of candles spread out across the room. A cream colored, fuzzy, woven blanket hung over the arm of the sofa next to a small wooden table containing two steaming mugs. The room was silent except for the soft crackling of fire devouring a small stack of logs inside the fireplace and the sound of your heart hammering inside your chest. 

Dean rubbed his hands down the front of his pants, nervously, and smiled at you. The candlelight flickered across his handsome face as he stepped forward.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, reaching out and running his knuckles down your arm. 

You ducked your head and cleared your throat. Your face suddenly felt extremely warm and your pulse jumped behind your ribs. 

“So, uh...what’s the plan?”

Dean held out his hand and cocked an eyebrow at you. The air seemed to sizzle with electricity as you placed your palm in his and he led you to the couch. 

“Well, I thought - since it’s so cold outside - maybe we could stay in,” he flinched as he motioned for you to sit. “I mean, not that you have to stay here, I know that sounds...you know what? Nevermind, we can just go out, maybe grab a bite to - “

Squeezing his hand, you cut him off. “Dean, stop.” You smiled reassuringly at him as you sat down. “I know what you mean. I think that sounds nice.”

Dean’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a breath before smiling broadly at you. He stood there, looking tenderly down at you, as though in a fog, for several seconds before he snapped abruptly. Shaking his head gently to himself, he took a step toward the pair of mugs on the table and grabbed one in each hand.

“I made you some hot cocoa,” he said, handing you a mug and lowering himself to the seat beside you.

The warm scent of chocolate tickled your nose as you took a small, tentative sip. You hummed in delight.

“This is delicious. Thank you.” 

Dean wrapped his hands around his own mug, fingertips playing along the rim as he stared down into it. 

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was so low you almost missed it, but you didn’t and his words surprised you. Your cup suspended in midair, the attempted second sip now forgotten as you stared at him, confused.

“What?”

Dean turned the mug between his palms, his brows creased. 

“I’ve just,” he paused, his tongue darting out to sweep across his lower lip. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, and I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

“What makes you think it’s not?” You brought the cup down, resting it gently on your knee.

“I don’t know. It’s like when I’m with you, I feel like a bumbling idiot. You deserve to be wined and dined and, and, and, ” he paused again, his gaze finally finding yours, “cherished.” He gulped. “But this -” he gestured limply around the room with one hand and looked down again. “ - this just feels awkward. Or something.”

The ceramic clinked against the wood as you set your drink aside. You carefully reached for Dean’s mug, unwrapping his calloused fingers from their hold and depositing his cup next to yours. Dean tensed when your hands closed over his, his mouth falling open slightly. 

“Listen. This?” You mirrored his earlier motion. “This is beautiful. You went to a lot of trouble planning this and I feel like a really special girl to be seated on this couch next to you. You’ve got to get out of your head, Winchester.” You smiled warmly at him, gripping his hand a little tighter. “I like you, Dean. A lot. So whatever pressure you’re putting on yourself to impress me? Just forget it, ok?”

Dean’s lips pressed together in a tight line, his brows still creased, but he nodded. He pulled his hands from your grip and stood. Your heart dropped a little as he turned from you and walked across the room. A few seconds later, the quiet was replaced with music and Dean stood in front of you, offering you his hand again. Two singers began their gentle, musical debate, a song you loved despite the kerfuffle in recent years surrounding it.

I really can't stay (but baby, it's cold outside) I've got to go away (but baby, it's cold outside) This evening has been (been hoping that you'd drop in) So very nice (I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice)

“May I have this dance?” He crooned, his face having relaxed somewhat and his lips curved in a shy smile.

As Dean pulled you gently to your feet, the firelight glowed in his eyes, making their green depths twinkle in the darkness. He rested one hand on your waist and held your right hand with the other. Your fingers splayed across his back as you pressed in close to him, following his lead as he swayed with the music. Sighing, you rested your head against his shoulder and you felt him take a deep breath.

You smiled against the fabric of his shirt, and couldn’t stop yourself from singing along.

You've really been grand But don't you see?

Dean dropped his head to rest against yours as he joined you, quietly singing along with the responses to the woman’s half-hearted protests.

There's bound to be talk tomorrow (think of my lifelong sorrow) At least there will be plenty implied (if you got pneumonia and died)

Pulling back, you looked up into his beautiful eyes, unwilling to resist the smile playing along your lips as you sang the last lines together.

I really can't stay (get over that old out) Baby, it's cold Baby, it's cold outside

Dean beamed down at you, his face mere inches from yours. Without giving yourself the chance to back out, you leaned up, placing a chaste, but lingering kiss against his lips. Dean’s grip on your waist tightened gently as you broke apart, his eyes flicking anxiously as he looked at you. The second kiss was anything but chaste, your lips parting as he pulled you tighter against him and sighed into your mouth. 

Another song began but you’d stopped swaying, both of you lost in the taste and feel of each other. When you pulled apart a time later, Dean closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to yours and sighing happily.

“Dean?” 

His eyelashes fluttered open, his pupils wide as he looked at you.

“This is perfect.”

----

A/N 2: Look, I know everyone has feelings about this song, and I’m not here to debate it. I think I got an ask last year telling me not to write about this again because the song is “problematic.” I understand the concerns regarding consent and though I see the song differently, I know some people have a problem with it. Just understand, this is the third year in a row I’ve gotten a request to write a fic with this song, and I’m simply fulfilling the request of a lovely follower. I hope you understand. Thank you!

----

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :) 

My Forever Tags - Stay weird. I love y’all:

@wheresthekillswitch​​ @pretty-fortune​​ @arryn-nyxx​​ @emlostinwonderland​​ @becs-bunker​​ @cookie-dough-lova​​ @impandagrl​​ @maddieburcham1​​ @trexrambling​​ @beachballsizeladyballs​​ @hannahindie​​ @rosie-winchester​​ @winchesterprincessbride​​ @that-writer-one​​ @fandomismyspirit​​ @angelsandwinchesters​​ @cfordwrites​​ @charliebradbury1104​​ @mogaruke​​ @luulaachops​​ @supernaturaldean67​​  @barbedwireandbubblegum​​ @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​​ @muliermalefici​​ @galaxy-jellyfish-queen​​ @canadianjelly​​ @kathaswings​​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @lorilane33​​ @bethbabybaby​​ @myfanficlibrarium​​ @akshi8278​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @boxywrites​​ @atc74​​ @anticipate1003​​ @super100012​​ @lovesj2m​​ @masksandtruths​​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​​ @growningupgeek​​ @there-must-be-a-lock​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @amanda-teaches​​ @cassieraider​​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​​ @its-my-perky-nipples​​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​​ @sandlee44​​ @paintrider13-blog​​ @arses21434​​ @petra-arkanian-1497​​ @sasbb23​​ @princessmisery666​​

[pinknerdpanda]

Yippie-Ki-Yay

Word Count: 1,080 Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean Warnings: Fluff, friendly competition, Dean being Dean Requested by: @princessmisery666​ Beta’d by: @shy-violet-soul​ - you are a lifesaver and a light in my life. I love you.

A/N: This was written for my Merry Manda Christmas Drabbles. This is a one shot, but I wrote it as a pseudo continuation of a story I’ve done the past two years for my Christmas drabbles. If you’re interested, you can read them here: The Bet & The Bet: Round 2. But this can definitely be enjoyed as is. Also, I’m the reader. I’ve never seen Die Hard. It’s on my Christmas Bucket list this year. lol

Gif Credit x

Yippie-Ki-Yay

“No cheating, Jolly Green! Keep your eyes to yourself!”

You fling an elbow behind you and connect with the youngest Winchester’s stomach. He lets out a soft groan but starts chuckling and you’re sure you hadn’t really hurt him. Though you kinda wish you had - at least a little bit.

“How is that cheating?” 

You’re too focused on the task at hand to look at him, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. That cheeky, adorable, competitive bastard. 

“Spying on the competition? Totally cheating.” You dip your finger into the gooey, green substance and fling it in his direction.

“Hey!” He grumbles before tossing a few brightly colored sprinkles back at you.

“Stop distracting me, Sam! This whole thing was your stupid idea!”

And it had been.

It all started on the drive home from Boise when you were discussing your favorite Christmas movies. Yours was a classic - National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Who doesn’t love watching Cousin Eddie emptying the shitter into the sewer in his bathrobe? The scene at the end where Clark goes nuts on everyone never fails to make you double over in a fit of laughter.

The brothers, however, had said in unison - as they often do - “Die Hard.”

“That’s not even a Christmas movie!” You’d argued.

The looks you’d received from both Sam and Dean showed you just how disgusted they were with your response. Matching expressions of incredulity bore down on you from the front seat and you wished you could have burrowed into the soft leather of Baby’s backseat instead.

Dean whipped his attention back to the road, but Sam had continued to stare.

“Well, it’s not. It’s about, like, bombs and stuff, right?” 

It had been the worst thing you could have said in your defense. Well, the second worst.

“Have you ever seen Die Hard, y/n?” Sam’s gaze narrowed at you.

“Well, no.”

That was it. That was the worst.

Dean had nearly ran the car off the road at your admission.

“Are you fucking serious!?” He’d shot a death glare back at you after maneuvering the vehicle back to safety.

“I just, I dunno, I never did.”

“Well that changes as soon as we get back to the bunker.” Sam’s tone had been drenched in finality. 

That was the worst thing he could have said. Nothing made you want to not do something more than being told you had to.

You’d crossed your arms, arching an eyebrow as you’d glared back at him.

“No.” 

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Sam snorted. 

“I mean, no. I have lived this long without seeing it. So I don’t see any reason that has to change now, just because you said so.” You’d tipped your chin up, looking pointedly away from his stupid face.

“Alright, how about this,” Sam had turned his large frame in the seat to face you as best as he could in the limited space. “How about we have a little friendly competition and the winner gets to pick the movie we watch that night.”

How you’d ended up making that “little friendly competition” into a cookie decorating contest, you can’t remember. All you know is that you have this in the bag. You think.

“30 seconds, bakers!” Dean barks from his perch at the table before taking a swig of beer.

You quickly put the finishing touches on your cookie art, drape a napkin over your work and step back just as the timer dings. Sam grunts and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s happy with the result or not, but you’re hoping for not.

“Alright! Let’s do this!”

Dean makes a big show of flicking out a napkin and tucking one corner just inside the collar of his flannel shirt.

“Ladies first,” Dean gestures for you to step forward.

You look at Sam, jerking your head towards his brother.

“You heard him, Sammy. You’re up.”

Sam tips his head to one side, his lips folding into a deep, dissatisfied frown as he rolls his eyes. Dean wheezes, clapping his hands, clearly approving of your joke.

“Hilarious, y/n.” Sam’s tone couldn’t have been drier.

“Alright, alright,” you step forward, placing your tray in front of Dean. “Don’t get your panties in a knot, Winchester.”

You tug the napkin off the tray with a flourish, revealing three snowman cookies. Each one has a different expressions on their fluffy white faces and their scarves are intricately designed with shades of green, red and yellow.

Dean grins at you, obviously impressed.

“I don’t know, Sam. You may be in trouble.” Dean tsks. “Let’s see what you’ve got, little brother.”

Sam approaches the table, tray in hand. Up to this point you’d felt pretty secure in your work, but at the moment Sam’s dimple is mocking you as he shoots you a self-satisfied grin. Bastard.

Sam hadn’t bothered with a napkin to elicit any kind of suspense so he just places the tray next to yours and stands back. He crosses his arms over his chest before turning and winking at you.

You lean over to find a tray of four, simple, round sugar cookies. Each cookie bears a single word, and while you don’t really understand the meaning, you have a feeling you are doomed.

“Yippie-ki-yay, motherfucker!” Dean reads the cookies and roars with delight. “I think we have ourselves a winner! I’m gonna go get the movie set up. Saddle up, y/n. You’re about to be schooled.”

Dean chuckles, grabbing one of your beautifully crafted snowmen and biting his head off cleanly. He grunts approvingly before grabbing another.

“Damn, these are good!” His voice fades as he saunters out of the room

Sam’s lips twitch, clearly trying to suppress a broad, victorious smile. It’s so adorable, you can’t help but giggle.

“Well played, Samantha,” you sass, “well played.”

Sam’s hands find your waist, pulling you forward as he presses a sweet kiss against your lips. He grips your hand and leads you out of the room and after Dean.

“Come on babe. A deal’s a deal.” He grins.

“Well, I suppose there are worse ways to pay up,” you offer. “Remember that time you had to slide down the stairs?”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. “You mean the time you were checking out my ass right before I almost died.”

“Oh, Sam.” Leaning up, you place a kiss against his cheek before whispering in his ear. “I was checking out your ass long before that night.”

---

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :) 

My Forever Tags - Stay weird. I love y’all:

@wheresthekillswitch​ @pretty-fortune​ @arryn-nyxx​ @emlostinwonderland​ @becs-bunker​ @cookie-dough-lova​ @impandagrl​ @maddieburcham1​ @trexrambling​ @beachballsizeladyballs​ @hannahindie​ @rosie-winchester​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @that-writer-one​ @fandomismyspirit​ @angelsandwinchesters​ @cfordwrites​ @charliebradbury1104​ @mogaruke​ @luulaachops​ @supernaturaldean67​  @barbedwireandbubblegum​ @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​ @muliermalefici​ @galaxy-jellyfish-queen​ @canadianjelly​ @kathaswings​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @lorilane33​ @bethbabybaby​ @myfanficlibrarium​ @akshi8278​ @emoryhemsworth​ @boxywrites​ @atc74​ @anticipate1003​ @super100012​ @lovesj2m​ @masksandtruths​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @growningupgeek​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @amanda-teaches​ @cassieraider​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @its-my-perky-nipples​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @sandlee44​ @paintrider13-blog​ @arses21434​ @petra-arkanian-1497​ @sasbb23​ @princessmisery666​

[pinknerdpanda]

Pride and Ice Skating

Word Count: 1,200 Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam Warnings: Fluff, ridiculous reader being ridiculous, long-suffering!Sam Requested by: @amanda-teaches​  Beta’d by: @shy-violet-soul​

A/N: This was written for my Merry Manda’s Christmas Drabbles. Thank you Name Twin for always being incredibly supportive and wonderful. I hope you enjoy this little slice of ridiculousness.

Gif Credit x

Pride and Ice Skating

“I’ll take one pair, please.”

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, wishing you weren’t standing so close to the man on your left. The bored teenage boy behind the counter blinked at you.

“What size?” His words would have been monotone, had his voice not cracked on the last word.

You leaned across the counter, mumbling your size to him quietly. He shrugged and turned around to find a pair that would fit you. Happy to have that part over with, you turned to your left and flashed Dean a cheeky grin. He rolled his eyes.

“One pair of size 10 skates for the lady,” he croaked, far too loudly, slamming them on the counter. “That will be $5.”

Jerking the skates from his grasp, you practically threw the crumpled bill at him and turned around. Dean chuckled just as you began to storm off, making your already warmed cheeks flame even more. Stomping down the path toward the frozen lake, you practically ran over Sam in your haste.

“You sure you want to go through with this?” He asked, steadying you gently.

Nostrils flaring indignantly, you wrenched free from his grasp. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sam snorted. “Maybe because you don’t know how to skate?”

You glanced back over your shoulder to find Dean strolling toward you casually, a pair of black rental skates slung over his shoulder. The air of smugness radiating off of him was infuriating.

Turning back to Sam you hissed. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t need to know that!”

Sam shook his head, holding his hands up.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” you hummed as you walked past him to find a bench to sit on.

---

“She looks like she’s in a good mood,” Dean mused as he reached his little brother.

Sam scratched the back of his head, scrunching up his face. “Yeah, something like that. Is this really necessary?” 

“Necessary?” Dean scoffed. “No. Fun? Yes.”

“Dean, you’ve never been ice skating before.”

“No, but I’ve been roller skating. It’s basically the same thing, right?” Dean grinned, slapping his brother in the chest before moving around him. 

Sam’s lips pressed in a fine line as he turned to watch both y/n and Dean work off their shoes and fitting their rentals on. While he could only see their backs from where he stood, the ridiculous indignant pride was evident in both of their movements. He shook his head, shoved his hands in his pockets and began making his way toward them, muttering to himself.

“This is going to be a disaster.”

---

Tying the last lace and double checking it was perfectly secure, you took a deep breath before standing on shaky legs. A myriad of worries buzzed inside your head. What if the ice isn’t as solid as it was supposed to be? What if I fall in and freeze to death? Are my giant feet going to be the cause of my untimely demise? Is today the day I lose a finger? Why did I think this was a good idea?

The last one bolstered your resolve. Why had you thought it was a good idea? Well, you hadn’t - obviously, you still don’t - but Dean, being the cocky little shit he was, had forced your hand. Somewhere between Lebanon and Minneapolis the topic of figure skating had come up. Dean blathered on about the illegitimacy of skating as an Olympic sport, and you - being, well, you - hadn’t been able to keep your mouth shut. 

“I suppose you could do better, Winchester?”

“Can, and have.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re taking a case in the frozen tundra of the great, white north, then, huh? I guess you’ll get to show off your incredible skills.”

“Laugh it up, y/n. I bet I could skate circles - or figure eights or whatever - around your ass.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe it is, sweetheart.”

That bastard always had a way of getting under your skin and normally, you didn’t mind. Most of the time when he baited you like that you were able to roll your eyes and walk away, but this time, you couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

And so, you took one cautious step toward the ice. The frozen ground beneath your blades crunched as you took another, and another. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

Except it was.

Actually, it was worse.

As soon as the tip of your left skate made contact with the gleaming icy surface of the lake, your foot slipped from beneath you. With your right foot still planted on the edge, you wound up in a sort of spread eagle split like position on the ice. Your back was cold, your thighs - now spread at an unfortunate angle - ached and you didn’t have to look up to know Dean had seen every devastating detail; likely in slow motion, much as it had felt to you.

The worst part was having no earthly idea how to get up. Clearly the ice was not your friend, but it seemed, with each passing second, that it was now your home. Any moment now the hypothermia would overtake you and you would lie here forever. Maybe they would just leave your body right here like they do hikers that died trying to climb Everest; a macabre monument to the feat you’d tried and failed to accomplish.

The tsk tsk tsk sounds of metal on ice brought you out of your rather disturbing train of thought and you glanced up to find Dean making his way toward you. Surprisingly, instead of the smug satisfaction you expected to find on his face, you found a look of concern and - was that regret?

“Y/n? Are you - “ his question was quickly cut off as his skate slipped from under him and he, too, toppled onto the ice next to you. He grunted as his head landed on the cold, slippery surface.

Neither of you spoke for several moments. The sound of your breaths seemed to echo, the air freezing them instantly just above your heads like little fluffy clouds.

Dean barked out a laugh - loud and full of joy. You whipped your head to the side, finding his face lit up brighter than a Christmas tree.

“What’s so funny?” You hissed, a sudden surge of anger overtaking you.

Dean sucked in a breath just as you felt his hand find yours, gloved palms fitting together lovingly.

“We’re idiots.” He chuckled, turning to meet your gaze. The look on his face warm, despite the cold enveloping you.

“That’s for damn sure,” Sam’s voice startled you and you both raised your heads to find him quickly snapping photos of you and Dean sprawled pathetically across the edge of the ice.

“Sam!” You yelped, trying to cover your face.

He bellowed, taking one last photo before stowing the phone in his pocket and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now, if you two dumbasses are done proving whatever point it was you were aiming for, can we please go home? It’s fuckin’ cold out here.”

Dean looked at you, a loving smile playing across his lips. 

“Yeah, y/n. Let’s go home.”

---

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :) 

My Forever Tags - Stay weird. I love y’all:

@wheresthekillswitch​ @pretty-fortune​ @arryn-nyxx​ @emlostinwonderland​ @becs-bunker​ @cookie-dough-lova​ @impandagrl​ @maddieburcham1​ @trexrambling​ @beachballsizeladyballs​ @hannahindie​ @rosie-winchester​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @that-writer-one​ @fandomismyspirit​ @angelsandwinchesters​ @cfordwrites​ @charliebradbury1104​ @mogaruke​ @luulaachops​ @supernaturaldean67​  @barbedwireandbubblegum​ @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son​ @muliermalefici​ @galaxy-jellyfish-queen​ @canadianjelly​ @kathaswings​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @lorilane33​ @bethbabybaby​ @myfanficlibrarium​ @akshi8278​ @emoryhemsworth​ @boxywrites​ @atc74​ @anticipate1003​ @super100012​ @lovesj2m​ @masksandtruths​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @growningupgeek​ @there-must-be-a-lock​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @amanda-teaches​ @cassieraider​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @its-my-perky-nipples​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @sandlee44​ @paintrider13-blog​ @arses21434​ @petra-arkanian-1497​ @sasbb23​ @princessmisery666​