It was just too complicated. Yeah, the younger hunting
community did seem significantly more progressive than John’s old
buddies, throwing around f slurs and laughing over beers, but Dean
was in his thirties. His late thirties.
No one came out at this age, and if he did, he was sure they would
think he was faking, having some bizarre mid-life sexual crisis or
trying to get attention. Moreover, he was a legend among
hunters: he didn’t want his going both ways to become the
talk of the town, their variation of celebrity gossip, even if it
wasn’t in a completely negative context.
So he could never be with Cas. It just wasn’t practical.
Still, he couldn’t help but feel that familiar sense of longing
as he watched Cas stitch up his trench coat, delicate fans of dark
eyelashes over soft, tired bags and prominent cheekbones, stubble
sprinkling his jaw.
Man, it would be great if Cas was human. If Dean was just a
normal guy who’d met him in a park or a grocery store, who could
have worked out his sexuality in his teens or twenties like any
normal fence-sitter, instead of worrying about his brother’s life
or the damn apocalypse.
Or even if it wasn’t, even if things were just as they were now,
Dean couldn’t help but think how amazing it would be to hold him in
his arms late at night while he slept, press his nose to that dark
mess of hair and breath in the soapy smell of shampoo. Maybe
start to see a grey hair or two.
That was another pleasant thought: Cas going grey, Cas the
silver fox. He’d always had a thing for mature guys, though
he’d absolutely never admit it, and he was surprised to find the
idea of getting old together with Cas a pleasant one.
But then, he’d blown his chance to have human Cas, hadn’t he?
Cas had been human once, been ready to settle down in the
bunker for good, and Dean had kicked him to the curb. He’d
spent every day regretting it.
“Dean, are you okay?”
Dean blinked, remembering Sam was there. He was sitting
perpendicular to Dean at the long wooden table, open laptop and book
of lore in front of him, looking at Dean with concerned, puppyish
Even Cas paused in his mending the wounded sleeve, looking up to
see what this latest drama could be.
Dean cleared his throat. “’Course I’m okay. Why
wouldn’t I be?”
“I dunno,” Sam shrugged. “You’ve just been sort of
spacing out for a really long time. You looked kind of upset.”
“Bullshit,” Dean scoffed, a tad defensively. “M’not
“I noticed, too,” Cas pointed out. “But it’s been a
rudimentary aspect of his personality since I’ve known him, so I
generally elect to ignore it.” There was a brief pause as
Dean mustered a glower. “If you’d like, I could read his
“No!” Dean cried, horrified by the suggestion.
Sam ran a palm over his face, clearly trying not to laugh.
Sadistic bastard. “It’s fine, Cas. I’m sure
Dean is just…distracted.”
Cas nodded hesitantly. “Very well. Let me know if
this changes, Dean: I should very much like to help.”
“Yeah, don’t count on it,” Dean muttered, pretending to go
back to his laptop.
God, Cas was a sweetheart. Oblivious, but a sweetheart.
Dean could see now that all he’d ever wanted to do was help.
To help Dean.
So many missed opportunities, over the years they’d known each
other. So many times he’d noticed that mouth, full and
chapped and supple, when he could have closed the gap between them
and let the warmth consume him. So many times he could have
said something, anything, to convey to Cas how he felt.
Dean froze suddenly as a realization dawned on him then: if
he could look back on moments five years ago that he could have told
Cas how he felt but didn’t, five years from now, would he feel the
same way? Would he still be hooking up with the same sexually
frustrated housewives that liked to boss him around the way he
craved, or odd bull named Larry, only to come home feeling empty and
full of regret? Would he still be watching Cas from afar and
wishing he’d said something, anything, to convey that he loved him
as more than a friend? To convey that he loved him at all?
It’s too late, said that nagging little voice in his
head. Too complicated. He isn’t even your
Dean realized he didn’t care. He’d spent his whole life
watching people wait for some idyllic scenario to come along to show
their loved ones how they felt: John promising he’d give his
boys the life they deserved after he got his precious revenge, Mary
studiously avoiding them until she could mold their lives into what
she’d envisioned for them over thirty years prior.
Dean wasn’t going to repeat their mistakes. He couldn’t.
Think of the hunters! the voice persisted. Do
you really want them knowing you like guys?
Dean scoffed inwardly. At the end of the day, who fucking
cares? He’d met gay hunters before. One of them was a
goddamn witch. The hunting community had changed a lot since
he’d last been involved.
And yeah, he was sure there was still some homophobia lurking, but
was he really gonna let that stop him? Besides: there
might be some young hunter kid scared to come out of the closet, who
might be inspired to if he knew Dean Winchester was bi.
Dean could have really used someone like that when he was younger.
“Cas, do you wanna go get burgers?”
Dean blurted the phrase out without thinking, causing both Sam and
Cas looking up in surprise.
Dean swallowed, suddenly feeling very awkward as silence hung
thick in the air.
“I mean…just if you want to, that is,”
he added, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously as he felt
his ears grow hot.
Cas blinked. “Certainly. You know I love burgers,
Dean stared at him, then chuckled awkwardly, not really processing
that he’d just said yes. “Yeah, that’s, uh. Kinda
why I asked.”
There was a long silence before Cas offered, “Shall we go
Dean blinked, still in a haze as he registered the question. “No
no. I mean, uh. We can if you want to,
but I was kinda thinking we could go tomorrow night.” He
swallowed, palm rubbing over his trachea. “Y’know. Make
a date of it.”
Dean chuckled awkwardly again as Cas’s eyes widened, expression
unreadable. He was peripherally aware of Sam’s comically
baffled facial expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He
looked as though if you poked him with your finger, he would fall
Finally, Cas said quietly. “I would love that, Dean.”
“…Great.” Dean cleared his throat, nodding slowly. A
nervous smile spread over his face. “Great! Uh,
tomorrow at eight, then?”
“That would be wonderful, Dean.”
Dean had to resist the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.
Everything about this was incredible. The fact that he’d
just asked Cas out on a date. The fact that he’d said ‘yes.’
The way Cas said his name.
Dean. Dean. Dean.
Dean thought he could listen to that voice say his name forever
and never get tired of it.
He and Cas sat there in mutually baffled silence for a moment or
two longer, before Sam’s exhausted, relieved sigh broke the spell.
The light on your desk was the only light on in the whole house. Papers were scattered on the wooden desktop with your laptop opened in the corner, Spotify filling its screen. You had your hands in your hair, tears welling up in your eyes and frustrating sighs leaving your lips. You couldn’t do this anymore, you couldn’t take any more work, you were so stressed out. All you wanted to do was curl up in a ball, cry and sleep until all the stress was over. When you were little you thought growing up would be fun: you could stay up until late at night without your parents saying you had to go to bed, you would have your own home, you just wanted to feel free. Never would you imagine as a little girl that the world would be so hard, had so much stress factors and to be honest would just suck. Finally, the tears fell down your face on the paper, the black ink fading out screwing up all your work. You sat up straight, wiped away your tears and started writing again, you had to finish this paper for your boss. After a while, you slowly felt two hands slide around your waist and a chin resting on your shoulder “babe, you should sleep for a bit you’ve been working on this paper the whole night” your boyfriend for 4 years Joe told you. You let out a frustrating groan “I have to finish this Joe, please leave me alone” Joe turned your chair around so you faced him. He carefully touched your cheek trying to wipe away the dried tears, making you look down at your hand that was resting in your lap. He tilted your chin up so you had to look in his eyes. “Please stop working, I’m making enough money for the both of us” You didn’t want Joe to pay for you, you wanted to be an independent woman. You wanted to buy things for yourself with your own money, not Joe’s. “We already talked about this Joe, I don’t want to stop working” you told him, “At least come to bed for now, you really need to rest. I’ll call your boss tomorrow to tell you’re sick and you won’t be on your work”. He convinced you to change into your PJ’s and get some sleep. You let out a sigh when you laid down in bed and immediately felt Joe’s arms around your waist. You turned around kissing Joe on the lips “Thank you” you said. Slowly your eyes started to close and sleep toke over.
Ivan looked out over the bright city from the top of the skyscraper. Thunder rolled in the distance as clouds hung overhead, though no rain has fallen yet. His dark blue cloak kept the chilling wind off of him as he surveyed the city below. Adjusting the hood on his scarf, he heard a small beeping coming from the device in his ear. A quick press of a button and the voice of his co-worker, Firefox, came through the speaker.
Request: Please may you do a oneshot where the reader is on her period but she tries to hide it from the boys but they find out in a really embarrassing way and just loads of fluff please thankies >.<
Request: Could you please write a oneshot where the reader is 18, really small (5'0") and is an introvert, the boys team up with her dad on a hunt and something happens that puts a target on her back so the boys take her to the bunker where she’ll be safe while her dad kills the monster and some fluff of them getting her comfortable with them so that she can relax and be herself
Request: Hii! I’ve asked you this before, but I don’t know if you got it cos I sent it on a Tuesday, and I understand if you don’t want to write it but I just want to ask one more time to be sure that you got it. Okay, so if you want to, can you write an imagine where the reader has epilepsy but TFW doesn’t know until Dean finds you shaking on the floor. And then they try to calm you down and they take care of you. Fluffieeee
Request: Heyy! Can you write one where the reader has epilepsy but TFW doesn’t know that until she gets an “attack” and they’re trying to help her and everything like that? Fluffiiiieee! (I have epilepsy but I haven’t found any imagines or fanfiction about it with them, and you’re an amazing writer so I thought maybe you could do one)
Request: Can you do a oneshot with TFW when they hear fall out boy’s song, ‘Just one Yesterday’?
This will probably transform and appear as a chapter somewhere in the 80s, but for now it’s a ways off JUST spoiler-free enough that I can post it.
Still mad that this didn’t come out exactly how I wanted it though, I was aiming for OTP, not Plot.
The only problem Feliciano frequently had with America was that the other nation was far too powerful for one so young. He only knew how to use his fists and fleets to get the world to cooperate with him, and when he did try to use diplomacy he usually navigated the process like a penguin on hot sand.