#wrapped in fuzzy blankets and surrounded by gentle candlelight

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

i have no idea how this crossover would work, but pls imagine a dcu/marvel crossover that leads to kate/kara. like, ive read some p good kate/stephanie brown fics before, but pls imagine kate/kara danvers

hoooomygod though. 

so like. the whole thing before secret wars, and all the universes smash into each other (I HAVE SO MANY AUS THAT UTILIZE THIS) so some of Marvel’s characters wind up in DC land and have to make their way and Kate and a few others wind up in National City and all of these superheros and everyone is way more chill about aliens only no they’re not. and there’s ANother archer how dare

Kate has a crush on Kara because she’s so cute!!! and sweet!!! and not really smol but with like a tiny smol cinnamon bun spirit!!!! and just how could she not!!! Kate is only human. and maybe she’ll have better luck dating someone who is not a superhero??? new world, try something new, right?

But Kara is super awkward and she’s probably straight, way to go, Hawkeye, falling for straight girls again, Kara is just adorable and awkward with everyone ok? ok

but Supergirl

Supergirl has caught Hawkeye no less than three times and stopped no fewer than two cars from hitting her; she has rescued Hawkeye from at least one burning building and stepped in between her and no more than four bullets.and she’s started to???? make eyes???? at Hawkeye??? and Kate doesn’t know what to do with this because she’s Supergirl, okay, she’s a superpowerful VERY ATTRACTIVE ALIEN and yeah it would be great to date her or whatever because then Kate wouldn’t feel weird about asking to be bench-pressed because that’s weird to ask a coworker but not weird to ask your girlfriend

and SO MUCH INTERNAL ANGST because she really likes working with Supergirl and she has so many fewer injuries but also she is hopelessly in love with Kara Danvers  like it’s so obvious to everyone BUT Kara. Cat is even like UGH KATE CAN YOU REEL IN THE HEART EYES I’M GOING TO BE ILL (because Kate does...things???? that utilize her pi skills and helping break news stories idk ok)

and like. Kara really likes Kate!!! But she is crazy about Hawkeye and all the shit she gives Oliver and her willingness to throw her very!!! breakable!!! human body in between other people and danger!!!! and Kara has a few nightmares about her not reaching Hawkeye in time and how has this woman managed to live so long with such a lassiez-faire attitude about danger?????

and Kate flirts with her at work and it’s nice, Kate is funny and sarcastic and makes the best coffee but she’s just--Kara feels bad about thinking this, but Kate is normal. And Kara can hurt normal people, she’s too dangerous and powerful and has too many people coming after her. Hawkeye stares danger in the face and makes sarcastic remarks about danger’s fashion choices

(and Cat Grant is SO DONE with these idiot nerds my god)

and I feel like EVERYONE knows that Kate is Hawkeye and Kara is Supergirl before either of them figure this out Tommy knows Alex knows J’onn knows Jimmy knows Peter Parker knows (because sure he’s here why not) LITERALLY EVERYONE KNOWS

and then idk maybe something kryptonite related happens and Kara stays home from work and Kate is just going to bring her chicken noodle soup it’s an old family recipe she’s just checking on Kara like a friend it’s not weird Cassie shut up

only maybe Kara has carelessly left out her costume (but of course Kate would at first be like “Maybe Kara and Supergirl are together???” because CLEARLY this is the most logical thing) but then holy shit nope Kara IS Supergirl and she realizes Kate is Hawkeye because she has broken ribs or something 

and they all lived happily ever after 

only when they fight bad guys together they turn into a 110% married couple with Kara constantly being like “do you HAVE to stand so close to the edge of the roof???” and Kate being all “wow was it really necessary to FLY those five feet WOW.”

[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​​