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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 3 months

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Lonely Dancers

main masterlist | misc. jackles characters masterlist

SPOILERS! this story is set after the events of the movie and it (vaguely) spoils the ending

summary: when your boyfriend cheats on you, it leads you to tom hanniger

pairing: tom hanniger x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.7k

warnings: language, cheating, mentions of death/murder, hearing voices (briefly, very end of the fic)

author’s note: happy valentine’s day! i wrote (and barely edited) this very quickly because i wanted to publish it while it was still valentine’s day in my timezone! enjoy!

music: lonely dancers by conan gray — incredible song by an incredible artist! go pre-save the upcoming album!

Tears were still clouding your eyes as you sat at the bar. You’d driven here after walking in on your boyfriend with another woman—your two best friends had both betrayed you in the most gutwrenching way.

“Crappy Valentines?” the man a few seats down from you asked.

“Somethin’ like that,” you scoffed.

“Well–”

“Look no offense, but I’m really not in the mood to be hit on, okay? So kindly fuck off and let me drink in peace.”

He nodded curtly; “Ten-four.”

You finished the glass in front of you and gestured to the bartender for another. You downed that one quickly and again asked for another immediately after.

“Cheated on, huh?” the man from before asked and you finally turned to look at him. He had a small, sad smile on his plush, pink lips and his green eyes seemed to look at you with sympathy.

“What makes you say that?” you asked.

“I, uh, I know the look,” he replied. “How about the next rounds are on me?” he offered, you smiled a little in thanks. “I’m Tom, by the way.” You told him your name, figuring it was the least you could do.

“So, Tom, I’m guessing your Valentine’s Day hasn’t been much better than mine?” you asked.

“What makes you say that?” he quoted you with a bit of a smirk.

“You’re drinking alone in a bar attached to a cheap-ass motel,” you retorted.

“Touché,” he laughed. “So maybe my day’s been shitty too… or maybe I just came here to hit on the lonely hot chicks.”

You narrowed your gaze at him, stifling a laugh; “Maybe. But something tells me you came here for the booze and not the chicks.” His smile faded a little at that but he was quick to plaster it back onto his face. “So how about we drink together for a bit and when I’m buzzed enough we head over to the dance floor and act like our day hasn’t been hell?” you suggested.

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

You both got to talking and eventually, you told him the whole story. He held back most of the comments he wanted to make; hope he drops fuckin’ dead, for example, or who in their right mind would do that to such a gorgeous fuckin’ woman!?

“Well, he sounds like a major dick,” he commented.

You listened to his story too, though he clearly wasn’t being as open with you as you were with him. But, you couldn’t blame him. His issue seemed to be about trauma linked to the actual day and less about something that happened recently.

After nearly half an hour of talking, he took your hand and led you to the beat-down jukebox in the corner.

“Does this shitty thing even work?” you scoffed.

“Let’s hope it does or this dancing thing is gonna be pretty awkward,” he joked. He managed to get a song playing. “May I have this dance?” He turned from the jukebox and looked at you, but quickly noticed the tears welling in your eyes. “Shit, you okay?”

You sighed with a nod; “This was kind of… our song,” you admitted.

“Of all the songs for me to pick,” he scoffed quietly, mentally kicking himself. “I… don’t know how to switch it.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly, a sad smile gracing your lips though the tears stayed in your eyes.

“How about we dance to it anyway?” he offered. “That way it’ll become our song and the next time you hear it you won’t think of that cheating bastard, you’ll think of the somewhat good-looking guy you met while drinking yourself half to death?” He smirked and wiggled his brows a bit, making you let out a laugh.

“Somewhat good-looking, huh? Have you looked in any kinda mirror recently?”

He shrugged, still smirking; “Didn’t wanna seem too cocky; had to downplay my looks a little, gauge your reaction.” You let him put his hands on your hips as you both started swaying to the music.

“That so?” You put your hands on his shoulders before you trailed them to the back of his neck. “And what’d my reaction tell you, handsome?”

“That this song is now officially ours,” he replied. “And every time you hear it you’re gonna remember my handsome face instead of that ugly asshole’s.”

“Thanks for that, Tom.” You smiled up at him, continuing to let him guide your movements. “I’d much rather think of you.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and his grip on your waist changed to wrap around your torso. The song was slow so he didn’t feel the need to change anything about the way you two were dancing—he just held you and gently swayed back and forth with the rhythm.

When the song ended the next one that played was more up-beat and “danceable” so you pulled away a little.

“Oh my god, I love this song!” you exclaimed, beginning to dance a more energetically while you still kept your hands on him.

He chuckled at your reaction and began dancing more too. His hands went back to your waist and he twirled you around. With your back pressed against his chest he turned up the heat a little; trailing his hands forward and up your body slowly. You smiled widely, enjoying the feeling of his touch over the thin fabric of your long-sleeved crop top. He twirled you back around, your hands catching your weight on his chest.

He looked down into your eyes; “Just thought I should gauge your reaction again.”

“And what’s it saying this time?” You smiled up at him, keeping your hands on his chest.

“That it might be okay if I kiss you right now?”

You nodded before he leaned down to place a kiss on your eager lips. Before he could, however, your phone rang and you pulled back to check it.

“Damn it,” you mumbled, seeing the name.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Tom asked and you nodded. You were about to answer but he whipped the phone from your hands and hit decline. “Stop,” he said when you reached for the phone, “forget that guy! He clearly doesn’t know how to love a woman like you—someone so gorgeous, funny… talented dancer.” The last one made you laugh through the sting of fresh tears. “And I hope he drops fuckin’ dead! How about we just keep dancing so I don’t have to see those tears slip down your pretty face, huh?”

“Guess I’m all yours tonight,” you replied.

“That’s more like it!” He took you back into his arms before he kissed you.

You woke up the next morning to the sound of someone knocking on your apartment door. You sighed and grabbed your pepper spray before going to answer it. When you looked through the peephole, however, you smiled and placed the weapon down on the table by your front entrance.

“Hey Tom, what’re you doing here?” You smiled after you opened the door. He held out the bouquet of roses he had been hiding behind his back.

“Happy belated Valentine’s Day,” he said. “I hope I made it a little less shitty for you and that you won’t hate this holiday the way I do.”

“Thank you,” you replied as you took them from him. You stepped aside so he could walk in. “I’m gonna find a vase for these, why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”

He nodded and made his way to your couch. He knew the layout of your home and where you lived because he had driven you home last night (well, earlier that day, technically) and made sure you got inside safely. You had offered to let him spend the night but he had declined politely, saying that as much as he enjoyed your company he didn’t want the two of you to become a one-night-stand. “Besides,” he had said, “I’ve got something important I’ve gotta do.”

The idea that Tom’s ‘important thing’ may have been just getting you flowers made your heart swoon in a way that you’d never felt before.

You hurried and put the flowers in a vase before you went over and sat next to Tom on the couch. He smiled at you before you turned on the TV.

“Wanna watch something?” you asked but your eyes widened when you looked at the screen; “Oh my god.”

“Two individuals brutally murdered last night…” the news reporter went on to say the names of your ex and his new girlfriend (your former best friend). “Officials say it was a robbery gone wrong, due to a missing engagement ring presumably still in the romantic, heart-shaped box it was purchased in barely two weeks ago from a local jeweler. No suspects are in custody—”

Tom shut the TV off as tears began rolling down your cheeks.

“Th-They’re both dead…” you barely whispered. The thought of the two people you cared most about being killed for no fucking reason made a scream erupt from your throat. Tom pulled you into his chest and you sobbed, gripping his shirt with all your might.

“I-I’m so fucking sorry,” Tom whispered.

After a (very long) session of tears and Tom’s gentle shushing, Tom was making breakfast in your kitchen as you sat at the table.

“It could’ve been me,” you said. “I-If he hadn’t cheated on me, if we hadn’t broken up, I would’ve been in her shoes. I’d be dead.”

“Thank god you aren’t,” Tom said.

“Maybe if I had answered his call–”

“Don’t think like that,” he interrupted. “Just be grateful that you weren’t there and that you’re okay. This isn’t your fault at all in any fucking way, you understand me? It was just a robbery gone wrong and as tragic as that is, that isn’t on you.”

You smiled a little, though tears were still slipping down your cheeks. He had a point and even if he was technically still a stranger, he seemed to care about you.

“We’ve got her now, Tom. She’s all ours.”

“What’d you say?” Tom looked at you over his shoulder.

“Nothing.” You smiled sadly at him. “Just…thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

#tom hanniger x reader #my bloody valentine 2009 #my bloody valentine #jackles character #tom hanniger #jensen ackles characters #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean

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not-supernatural · 5 months

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reference the network fighting for dean's right to be on the bottom during that sex scene with cassie, isn't jackles also partially to blame for the fact that dean is Like That? I remember years ago seeing a quote on here where he talked about how dean should probably be a lot more aggressive in bed but isn't because jensen isn't comfortable acting that way lol

I figure you or one of the other spn historians would know what I'm talking about because if not I just made this up but I swear jackles is weird enough that I feel this is true 😅

hmm i can't find anything about that right now, but i wouldn't be surprised if he said that. but, to be fair, he is on top with cassie when they roll over so jensen wasn't all that shy to film it that way

#ask

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lol-jackles · 7 days

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hey lol-jackles - love your blog and find your insights very interesting & entertaining as well!…thank you for your thoughtful n clear responses…pls keep em coming!…. 😊 😊…

My ask is about the recent statements made by misha at cons where he’d called the network homophobic and made generally crass n downright vulgar comments about dean n cas, the characters on supernatural, i n order to pande to some subsections of fandom….

Im wondering whether there are avenues for a fan or jensen or the network or writers or creators of the characters itself to sue misha for some of the untruths he tells at con's and has been for years? -i.e can misha be also sued for his statements- civil or criminally?… or is there just absolute immunity at fan-conventions?…. I clearly don't know very much about how cons bts or how a lot of it works as im more a viewer/consumer of the media - but am curious to know your thoughts 🤔 😊😊…thank you!…

Live your blog!…

Thank you friend.

Misha is too low tier to bother suing and no, there is no such thing as “convention immunity” even if NDA are involved since NDAs can legally be broken if crimes are committed. And suing will only drive attention to Misha’s shenanigan through the Barbara Streisand effect: people who were previously unaware becomes aware.

The best avenue is simply not offering acting gigs to Misha and it’s notable that SPN alumni have not offered roles to Misha on their own shows. One would think Misha’s crude humor would fit in with The Boys but we’ve heard nada so far.

Sometimes I wonder if Misha’s aggressive take on Destiel is to rile up the shipping stans to pressure (future) SPN producers to include him in the revival. And when Destiel is not acknowledge in the revival, writers/producers will get the blame.

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writethelifeyouwant · 2 years

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Birthday Surprise

Summary: When Y/N is hurt on a hunt, it’s not major, but she still decides to stay home in the Bunker to recover instead of joining Sam and Dean on the next one. Down a person, and needing some magical assistance, the boys enlist the help of Rowena. Dean is brooding the entire hunt, blaming himself for Y/N’s injury, and nearly getting himself hurt due to his distraction. Rowena, fed up with Dean’s baggage, decides to give the man an early birthday present in the hopes of making him feel better about everything.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: kinda sorta dub-con? Tags: brooding Dean, Dean’s self-loathing, Sam & Rowena bromance, the gift of knowledge, the consequences of knowledge, unintended consequences, masturbation, public masturbation (kind of), simultaneous orgasms, kissing, implied oral sex, surprise fluff Word Count: 5,432 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomkinkbingo - “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” | @spndeanbingo - Childhood Sweethearts | @supernatural-jackles TMAS - Dean Winchester

A/N: Commissioned by the wonderful @pink-sparkly-witch 💖 the idea is her brainchild and what a fun idea it is!

“You boys go, I’m fine,” Y/N stresses again as she pushes Sam and Dean out the door and into the garage.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? Because I can stay, and we can call Jody and Don–” Dean offers for what has to be the fourth or fifth time, but Y/N shuts him down yet again.

“Dean, I swear to God,” she groans, dragging a hand down her face in advert irritation. “It’s literally a sprained ankle. I have an Ace bandage, I have ice, I have Advil. I’m just not in the mood to stay cooped up in a motel room while you two run around saving the world. I’d much rather stay in the bunker where I have Netflix and a clean bathtub.” And with that, Y/N pokes Dean in the ribs abruptly so that he yelps and jumps backwards, landing just far enough away that she can swing the door closed behind the brothers Winchester with a resounding thump.

\Now, time to see about that bath, she muses to herself as she hobbles back through the bunker. And maybe another cup of tea.

“Hello, boys,” Rowena greets Sam and Dean as the door to their motel room opens for her, Sam standing to one side courteously and swinging his arm wide in invitation for the witch to enter. “How are you, Samuel?” She greets the taller of the brothers with a smile, and Sam bends down dutifully to allow her to kiss his cheek in greeting.

“Good, Rowena, thanks,” he smiles easily. “How you been?”

“Oh, well enough,” Rowena waves idly, setting down her bag and lowering herself elegantly onto the rickety wooden chair that Sam has pulled away from the table for her. “And you, Dean?” She raises her voice ever so slightly and calls out curiously, leaning forward to better see around the partition that divides the room’s amenities from the beds.

Dean is lying back on one of the beds, atop the puce-green paisley quilt, his legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over his chest. His head is tilted back against the brim of the headboard, his eyes shut in feigned rest, and he hadn’t moved a muscle since the witch arrived, however, it was still obvious that he wasn’t asleep, simply ignoring their present company.

“Just peachy,” the eldest brother grunts, eyes remaining stubbornly shut. Rowena rolls her own eyes towards Sam in exasperation, as if to say ‘what bee’s gotten in his bonnet’? Sam shoots a tight-lipped look of disdain toward his brother and then shifts a look of apology to Rowena.

“He’s grumpy because Y/N’s back at the bunker with a minor injury, and he’s blaming himself for no reason,” Sam stage whispers, as if he’s trying to spare Dean’s feelings but knowing full well the other man can hear him, which Dean illustrates by flipping Sam the bird from his still-unmoving position on the bed.

“Oh,” Rowena frowns sympathetically. “Is the poor dear alright?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Sam chuckles under his breath. “Dean just has a complex about everything being his fault when she’s on a hunt with us.”

“It’s not a complex if it’s actually my fucking fault,” Dean hisses under his breath, but Sam chooses to ignore him for the present in favour of catching Rowena up to speed on their present predicament.

There have been a string of strange deaths in the town of Jenson, Kentucky and Sam and Dean have a strong suspicion after speaking with some of the locals that it has to have something to do with the collection of colonial artefacts that had recently been unearthed from storage and put on display for the town’s founding anniversary. The early settlers of the area were largely Scottish, and just possibly, some of Rowena’s old acquaintances. Maybe even friends or distant relatives–her grandson had tried to make the crossing to America after all, if unsuccessfully. Sam knows that Rowena recognising the names on the original town charter and settlement rolls is a long shot, but with Y/N back at the bunker and no real clue what they were dealing with yet, he thought it was at least worth a shot to see if Rowena was amenable to helping them out. And they’re in luck.

She and Sam collect their things and head out to visit the historical society library, where they can have a look at the documents, leaving Dean to sulk on his lonesome for the time being.

“If you decide you want to cheer up and actually help, give me a call,” Sam slaps Dean’s booted feet by way of a farewell.

Dean grunts unenthusiastically but knows he needs to pull himself together. He doesn’t want Sam all on his own if whatever’s been killing people turns up where he happens to be going. “Call me if you find something,” he shouts after Sam. “Don’t let her turn you into a frog or whatever.”

“Charming, Dean,” Rowena grimaces lightly, too proud to stoop to the bait, and waltzes her way out of the motel room. “Come along, Samuel.”

Dean makes a silent whipping motion in retaliation that makes Sam feel a strong urge to stick his tongue out at his older brother, but he quashes down the immature impulse and settles for an unimpressed look before he grabs his shoulder bag and follows Rowena outside, the motel room door slowly drifting closed behind him.

Y/N putters around the bunker on her hobbled ankle easily enough. Sure it still hurts if she puts her entire weight on it or bends the ankle too far to the side, but the injury is really more of a nuisance at this point than an actual pain. If she continues her regime of keeping it elevated with an ice pack for a few hours a couple of times a day she thinks she’ll be up and running again in no time.

Glancing at her phone while she waits for the water in her pot to boil on the stove, Y/N wonders what Sam and Dean might be up to right now. They’ve been gone a few days already, and she knows Sam called Rowena in two days ago for some extra backup because he suspects the thing making the unsuspecting Kentuckians disappear may be magical, Scottish, or likely, both. Sam and Rowena have an odd kinship, sort of like what Dean has with Cas when he joins them for a hunt from time to time. Y/N likes Rowena just fine, and in reality, so does Dean, but he pretends not to. Given their rocky history, Y/N doesn’t blame Dean one bit, and honestly, it’s quite funny watching him go all grumpy whenever she’s around. His grumpy pout is equal parts cute and sexy in Y/N’s eyes.

Reasoning that it’s been a few hours since Dean had texted her to say that they were heading out into the woods to find the original dig site of the artefacts that they think might be causing the unexplained sidewalk drownings, Y/N decides it’s not too clingy to give her boyfriend a call. Just to get an update. She’s not worried or anything. The water comes to a boil with an advertising bubbling over onto the stovetop, producing a shrill hiss as the foam hits the open gas flames tickling the bottom of the pot, and Y/N quickly jumps into action, putting in the pasta and turning on the extractor fan to keep down the bubbles. Dinner now safely progressing again, she grabs her phone and flips it open to recent calls, hitting Dean’s name and letting it ring.

“Hello?” Her boyfriend’s gruff, slightly tinny voice answers the call after a few rings.

“Hey there,” Y/N smiles.

“Is everything alright?” Dean asks quickly, an edge of concern in his tone, and Y/N can’t help rolling her eyes.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one out hunting ancient Scottish fishing equipment or whatever,” she scoffs lightly, and Dean chuckles under his breath. Y/N can imagine how his cheeks might blush a little under his stubble as he responds.

“You know I worry about you when we’re gone. Fuck knows what’s hiding in some of those old boxes.”

“Well, there’s a comforting thought,” Y/N smirks to herself. “I’m fine, Dean. Promise. I just wanted to see how it was going with you guys.”

“Sam and witch-bitch have me out here spelunking through hillbilly backcountry looking for rusty fish hooks that are just as likely to kill me as give me tetanus, so you, I’m awesome,” Dean groans. It sounds like he might have found somewhere to sit down for a minute, and Y/N thinks she can hear running water in the background too.

“You’re going through caves on your own?” she raises an eyebrow unhappily. “You guys should really stick in a group if you’re going into Appalachian caves, it’s really easy to get lost up there.”

“Caves?” Dean asks.

“You said you were spelunking, that means cave exploring,” Y/N points out.

“Oh, well,” Dean clears his throat. “I’m doing whatever the river version of that is, then. No caves, don’t worry.” The running water in the background makes a little more sense now. “And we’re not really split up. I can see Sam’s antlers further upstream, we’re just spread out a bit to cover more ground.”

“Oh, well that doesn’t sound so bad the–AHH!” Y/N yelps in shock as the pasta water bubbles over again, making an evil hissing noise and splashing a bit of the boiling water onto the hand she had leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Y/N!? What’s wrong?!” Dean demands, his voice suddenly serious and sharp as iron.

“It’s fine,” Y/N pants, quickly turning down the gas on the stove and grabbing something to stir the pot with in order to dissipate the bubbles. “It’s fine,” she repeats, a little less breathlessly. “I let the water boil over and it startled me. It’s fine.”

“Y/N…” Dean growls, warning her that she had better not be lying to him.

“Telling the truth! I promise,” she giggles. “You’re just distracting me from cooking, as usual.”

“Well, I am very distracting,” her boyfriend responds in an instantly flirty manner like it’s an automatic response he has no control over. Sometimes Y/N thinks he really doesn’t.

“Yes, you are,” she agrees, teeth sinking into her lower lip thoughtfully. “Maybe when you’re done spelunking later tonight you can distract me some more. Netflix is getting boring.”

“Oh, is that so?” Dean grins, his cocky smile practically visible even over the phone. “You need something different to concentrate on tonight, sweetheart? Something a little more… entertaining?”

“Well, if you’re not too busy,” Y/N shrugs even though she knows he can’t see her, trying to play it off as if she’s not overly eager for the attention. Downright desperate would be a better description actually, but Dean doesn’t need that ego boost just now.

“Oh, for you baby, never too…” Dean trails off. Y/N hears a splash, and what might be a garbled shout in the distance. “I’ve gotta go.”

The line goes dead, and Y/N stands mutely in front of the pasta. It’s nearly ready, but she’s not really hungry anymore.

Dean helps Sam limp back through the motel door, the taller brother’s arm slung over Dean’s shoulder and his arm wrapped around Sam’s waist, carefully avoiding the gash in his side. Rowena glides along behind them, unconcerned as if she’s bored by the proceedings. Goddamn Kelpie had gotten the jump on Sam while Dean had been on the phone to Y/N. Yet another injury that can be added to the list of things that are Dean’s fault.

Sam sits gingerly on the edge of the bed while Dean goes for the whiskey and the first aid kit, and Rowena sits opposite Sam on the other bed, giving him a sympathetic once-over.

“Does it sting, dearie?” she asks as Sam peels off his t-shirt, wincing when the cotton unsticks itself from his skin where the blood has already dried.

“Yeah,” Sam grunts, raising a brow at the witch. “How’d you know.”

“Kelpies have highland nettle essence in their tails,” she explains sagely in her lilting voice. “Getting whipped with the end isn’t fatal, but it’ll sting and itch something fierce for a while.”

“Great,” Dean grunts, kneeling in front of Sam to inspect the wound. He uncorks the bottle of whiskey with his teeth and splashes a little over the area to wash off the tacky blood. Sam grunts, biting back the pain, and Dean’s face twitches in a conflicted mash of a smirk and a grimace; half big-brotherly pride, half big-brotherly guilt.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam huffs in exasperation, noticing the look on his brother’s face.

“If I hadn’t been on the phone–” Dean begins to argue, already beating himself up, but Sam cuts across him angrily.

“No! Cut the crap, Dean! You were at least a hundred yards away when the thing grabbed me. You wouldn’t have stopped its tail slicing me if you hadn’t been on the phone unless you can teleport like Cas and forgot to tell me about it,” Sam raises a stern brow in challenge and Dean almost lets himself be cowed but tries again to protest.

“I was distracted worrying about Y/N, if I hadn’t wandered so far away then maybe I’d have gotten back quicker,” Dean reasons.

“And maybe the Kelpie would have gotten the jump on you instead’a me? Is that what you’re sayin’?” Sam asks angrily. Dean merely shrugs, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he roots through the first aid kit looking for gauze and medical tape. “Dean, we’re both hunters here. We’re both shouldering the risks of going after these things. And it’s the same with Y/N. She knows the risks of hunting and she takes responsibility for herself when she’s out here with us. You’re not going to be the only one to ever get hurt while we’re hunting, and quite frankly you shouldn’t be, otherwise, you’d probably be dead. It’s not like these are serious hurts, I don’t even need stitches!”

“Y/N is in this because of me,” Dean growls defensively as if Sam’s suggestion that he’s not responsible for every little paper cut anyone around him gets is actually offensive. “She never woulda known about hunting or monsters or been around any of that crap if we weren’t together, so anything that happens to her is on me. And anything that happens to my little brother? Of course, that’s on me too!”

“Tell you what is gonna be your fault, is when I punch you in the face in a minute for being such an idiot!” Sam scolds Dean, tearing the first aid kit away from him in irritation to finish tending to his own wound. “Go call Y/N so she knows nobody died. She’s probably worrying her head off right now.”

Dean glares at Sam but ceases arguing, hauling himself up from the floor between the beds and stomping outside to call Y/N and let her know they’re all okay. Mostly. Sam rolls his eyes at the back of the slamming door as Dean exits to the parking lot, and the shake of Rowena’s red curls catches his attention.

“What?” he asks, eyeing her contemplative look with a hint of apprehension.

“Oh, nothing,” she sighs heavily. “I was simply lamenting the fact that he feels so burdened by it all.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam scoffs, wincing a little as he spreads some antibiotic ointment over his cut. It’s not deep, but it is beginning to itch like a motherfucker. “I’m a big boy, I can handle myself. And Y/N is just as capable. I think he’s worried that deep down we secretly blame him too, or something. But I guess there’s no way to convince him we don’t if he doesn’t want to believe it.” The younger brother shrugs in resignation.

“Oh…I don’t know about that,” Rowena muses. “A way for him to know that you two don’t blame him, you say?”

“Yeah…” Sam looks at the witch hesitantly while a smile blooms across her rose-pink lips.

“His birthday is next week, right?” she checks and Sam nods affirmatively. “I may just pop out and get you boys something for dinner. And maybe a little treat, as an early birthday celebration.”

“Rowena–” Sam stands and starts to go after her, but she holds up a hand to stop him.

“It’s nothing nefarious, Samuel. It’s a simple spell, temporary. He’ll never know until it kicks in.”

“Until what kicks in?”

“It’s a sort of mutual feeling,” Rowena explains. “Something that won’t let him read thoughts so much as emotions, sensations. I can do it with wee Y/N since I sense that’s who he feels truly upset about. Am I right?”

Sam nods slowly. It actually sounds like exactly the kind of thing that could convince Dean that they’re telling the truth when they say they’re alright and that they don’t blame him. And having the stick removed from his ass would probably make Dean better able to concentrate when he’s hunting if he’s not worrying so much about Y/N instead of looking after himself.

“He won’t know until it’s done?” Sam checks. Dean is not a fan of magic, he’d never agree to let them spell him if he has a choice in it.

“Won’t suspect a thing,” Rowena smirks.

Dean wakes up feeling a wave of energy that he almost never experiences first thing in the morning. He sits up on the crappy motel bed with a sore back but somehow simultaneously feeling like he’s gotten a sound night of ten hours of sleep on his memory foam mattress back in the bunker. There’s a faint hum in his ears like he can hear his blood as it drifts through his body, pumping from heart to head to toes and back up the circuit. There’s a slight twinge in his ankle that he doesn’t remember being there when he went to bed, but it really just feels like pins and needles or like he’s slept on it funny. Getting up gingerly, he puts his weight on both feet and finds a dull soreness in the limb but nothing debilitating.

Weird, he thinks to himself, yawning as he stumbles towards the coffee machine and bangs through making a pot. The cupcakes Rowena had brought last night with dinner are still sitting on the counter next to the machine, two empty holes in the container and two more cupcakes still sitting there, appetisingly. Dean grabs one and crams it into his mouth over the course of two bites while he makes his way to the bathroom to get cleaned up for the day. In the shower, he contemplates doing something with the half-there morning wood he’s sporting but is suddenly desperate to get his coffee and get on the road to start the drive back to Kansas–and Y/N.

It’s a nearly fourteen-hour drive, so it will be a fucking long day, but they can do it in one if he speeds on some of the country highways, Dean reasons. There’s a foreign warmth in his chest that’s making him feel like he absolutely has to get back and see Y/N today. As soon as possible. Somehow, he can just tell that she’s really missing him right now. Not that he’s not missing her, because of course he is, but this doesn’t feel like his feeling. And that thought alone is fucking weird. How the hell would he be feeling a feeling that isn’t his own? It should make him feel a little pig-headed, imagining that Y/N is desperately missing him, but he tries not to beat himself up about it.

Y/N told him she missed him when they were on the phone last night, after all. It’s not like he’s imagining it or just inventing it out of thin air. There’s always a bit of a pull when they’re apart from each other. That’ll happen when you wind up dating/living with the first girlfriend you’ve ever had. There were other girlfriends between Y/N and Dean separating and them getting back together, considering they had only been eight the first time they ‘dated’. But there’s always been a sense of fate drawing them back together, of them not being meant to stay apart for too long. Fuck, when did he start thinking about it so sappily? Obviously, Dean’s always felt that way, but he doesn’t remember ever thinking about it in exactly those terms before. What is going on?

Dean sips his coffee, not even remembering pouring it for himself in the fog of thoughts and feelings his brain has become this morning, and he decides not to worry about it too much. It’s kind of nice, actually, feeling so confident in how much they love each other. Thinking about Y/N isn’t leaving him with the same bitter taste of ‘what if…’ that it typically does, and he doesn’t know why, but he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

Y/N looks around the bunker at a loss, feeling a profound sense of boredom and a deep longing for Dean to be home already. She checks the clock on the wall of the library again, in the vain hope that more than a few minutes have passed since the last time she looked up, but no luck. Checking her messages, there’s nothing new from Dean in the past few hours, which makes sense because he’s driving. She hadn’t been lying to him on the phone yesterday when she’d said Netflix was starting to get boring. She’s watched as much Friends as she can stomach right now, and she promised Sam she wouldn’t download the new Game of Thrones episode without him, so she’s at a bit of a loss for what to watch to while the hours away.

With a smirk to herself, Y/N thinks about what Dean would do in this situation. Just watch porn. Deciding to head to the kitchen for a snack, Y/N makes her way to the refrigerator and stands in front of the industrial silvers coolers, scanning the shelves for something that appeals. She really isn’t particularly hungry, she realises as she stares aimlessly at the food. Except for… There’s a small throb low in her stomach, but it isn’t hunger per se. It is a desire. A need. The ‘what would Dean do’ possibility floats back across her mind and Y/N purses her lips.

You know what, why the fuck not?

Dean stares blankly at the mostly empty highway through the Impala’s dashboard, eyes unconsciously darting back and forth across the lanes of traffic and fields of dirt that will be wheat or corn when spring hits in a few months. They go over a pothole that he doesn’t notice in time to swerve around, and the chassis jostles beneath him. Randomly, a twinge of arousal thrums through him, deep in his hips, like a pulse of bright heat. Just for a second, and then it burns out again. He feels a look of confusion cross his face, wondering where the hell that had come from. Sure he loves his car, but not that much.

Must have been the pothole, he thinks after a brief interrogation of his thoughts over the past few minutes, unable to come up with another explanation.

Y/N settles back into the memory foam mattress comfortably, on Dean’s side of the bed, pulling his pillows around her to surround herself with his familiar scent. Under the comforter, she slides her sweatpants down her legs and then brings her fingers back up to her panties, teasing the small bundle of nerves between her legs through the fabric while she browses for something… stimulating to watch on her phone. It takes a few minutes of scrolling and lazy touching, but she eventually settles on something that looks like it will be more than suitable.

Pulling her hand back out from beneath the covers, she reaches out for the toy she left out, now eager to get down to business.

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat again, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He’s driving his car with his giant little brother crunched into the seat next to him and Metallica on the radio. Perfectly normal, everyday situation. Nothing exciting or even remotely arousing about his current set of circumstances. But for the past ten minutes or so, he’s felt himself growing steadily more and more alert in the pants department. And try as he might to think of dead puppies or wendigos or Sam, he just can’t seem to shake the feeling.

There’s a sharp twitch of arousal and suddenly he’s at full mast, nothing slow about the build-up like the past few minutes, and his hips jerk off the seat in surprise.

“Dude, what is going on?” Sam demands in irritation, looking up from his phone and across the bench seat at his brother. Dean feels himself blush in humiliation and frustration at not understanding what the fuck is happening to him, praying that Sam won’t notice anything untoward.

His hopes do not pan out.

“Dean, what the fuck?!”

Y/N is definitely not bored anymore. She’s gone through the first video, and a second, and she’s very much enjoyed her new entertainment material. Way better than Friends. Since it’s still a while until she’s expecting Dean and Sam back though, she decides to just go ahead and make an afternoon of it, working herself up and then backing off when she starts to get a little too close to the edge. The constant buzz and pressure from her clit-sucking vibrator are perfect for helping her to just relax and enjoy the pleasure washing over her. It’s been a while since she’s had the opportunity to really enjoy edging herself, so she’s milking this chance for all it’s worth.

With a pang of desire between her legs, she clicks on the video title that has just popped up on the screen with enthusiasm. Doggy Fucking In My Classic Car. The car isn’t the right decade or manufacturer, but it is black, with a black interior, and the guy in the video is lean with short, light brown hair. It’s close enough. When he goes down on the girl in the backseat and memories flood her mind, Y/N lets herself moan loudly in appreciation.

Dean moans. He flat-out moans. Like he’s in a fucking porno.

“Seriously!? Dean, what the fuck?!” Sam shouts in disgust, giving Dean a look as if he’s a piece of trash they just fished out of the bottom of a lake.

“I don’t know!” Dean shouts back, slamming the centre of the wheel in anger and accidentally honking the horn at a passing Honda, which honks back at him angrily. “Fuck,” he shudders, his dick actually jumping in excitement, and the pressure around its crown seems to be increasing somehow and Dean thinks he actually might start crying it feels so good and so frustrating at the same time. Because it’s been doing this for a fucking hour.

“Dean!” Sam shouts, hand shooting out to grab the wheel and redirect the Impala because Dean’s just let go of the wheel entirely and almost let them swerve into the next lane of traffic. Dean is panting, his hands pressing desperately into his lap as if somehow the pressure will keep him from feeling like he’s about to cum in his jeans. It only makes it worse. With a monumental effort, Dean makes himself focus back on the road and retakes control of the wheel from Sam long enough to ease them off onto the shoulder of the highway, parked safely out of the way.

“You’re gonna have to drive, Sammy,” Dean grunts, fumbling with the handle of his door and toppling out. He makes his way to the passenger side and collapses against the frame of the door that Sam leaves open for him. “Fuuuck,” he moans again, biting his lip, trying to keep quiet, but it’s becoming exponentially harder by the second. He’s gonna cum, he realises in horror. Right here, on the side of the road, with his brother right fucking there, sitting in the car two feet away. And Dean’s gonna cum in his pants.

He wants to reach in and jerk himself off, help himself get there and get it over with, but he can’t exactly do that when his hips are currently at Sam's height while he’s slumped against the car, panting heavily, breath catching in his throat. Almost. There.

Y/N stretches out with a sigh when she’s finished, having worked herself through a couple of tiny orgasms following her big fall over the edge. It’s always easier to force herself into multiple when she’s been edging, and now every bit of her body feels warm and floppy and nice. Rolling over onto her side, she pulls Dean’s pillow under her head and cradles it in her arm, letting her eyes slide shut for a nap.

Dean is going to hang Sam from the fucking rafters. And he’s gonna put a magical hit out on Rowena. He can’t fucking believe they would put a spell on him like that. How fucking invasive. For Dean and Y/N! Yeah. Sam and Rowena are dead meat. But Sam says the spell will only last for forty-eight hours, so that’s a relief at least. And Dean since the damage has already been done, Dean is going to take advantage of it while he can. No use crying over spilt spellwork.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dean bangs through the door to the bunker and down the ironwork stairs with more excitement than belongs to him because he now knows that part of what he’s feeling is coming from Y/N thanks to Rowena’s spell. Said girlfriend comes skidding around the corner into the hallway and runs into his arms with relief.

“I missed you,” Y/N mumbles into Dean’s shoulder, and it’s so so weird to feel the love that’s radiating off of her as Dean and as Y/N. It’s overwhelming, the depth of feeling that’s there, and it makes Dean’s breath catch in his chest as he crushes her to him, pressing a long kiss to the top of her head, smelling a comforting combination of her shampoo and the sweet scent she gets when she’s just woken up from sleeping.

“I missed you too, baby,” Dean smiles, tilting her chin up and dropping a small kiss on her lips. Sweet and chaste. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” he whispers against her mouth, and Y/N jerks back, startled. He levels her with a cocky smirk as she blinks at him, her face pinching in embarrassment.

“How did you know?” Y/N can’t look him in the eye, and Dean chuckles under his breath at how cute and innocent she can be sometimes. No one would ever think she could get embarrassed if they saw her in the bedroom the way he’s seen her.

“I’ll explain,” Dean grabs her hand and starts pulling her toward their bedroom. “Did you use your toys?” he asks, eyes darkening as he takes in the disarray of their bedcovers and the slightly open nightstand drawer.

“Yeah,” Y/N answers breathlessly, the shadow of a giggle.

“The sucking one?” Dean asks knowingly. He had run through the possibilities in his head endlessly on the drive home, and considering the sensations he’d been privy to, that’s the toy that seemed to fit the most. He can see now why she likes it as much as she does.

“Seriously, how the fuck do you know?!” Y/N demands, letting Dean push her down on the bed and kissing him back eagerly when he climbs over her.

“I’ll explain,” he repeats elusively, kissing down Y/N’s body and peeling her clothes off as he goes until she’s spread out and naked beneath him. He presses her thighs open, exposing the glistening folds of her cunt. He wonders if that’s from her afternoon’s activities or if that’s just appeared since he’s come home. “First, I need to know what it feels like to have this pussy fucked on my tongue.”

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smellingofpoetry · 2 years

Text

Normal Again

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Castiel

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: "The first time it happened had felt like a bad nightmare."

Square/s Filled: "Dean Winchester" (TMAS Bingo - @supernatural-jackles), Hospital AU (@anyfandomaubingo)

Warnings: mention of mental illness, mental hospital, pills, angst, nightmares, hurt, sadness, mention of smut, mention of nudity, mention of the series finale

Rating: +18

Words count: 3708

Beta: endlesswanted

A/N: Hello there! It has been a while since my last story, unfortunately, I'm quite busy at the moment so my writing had slowed down. I had this story in mind for quite some time and I've finally been able to finish it. I was inspired by an episode of Buffy, I don't know if some of you watched it or not, but I always loved that one in particular. This story talks about some delicate subject, so I totally understand if some of you would prefer to skip it. I did my best with the warnings, but feel free to let me know if I missed something. That being said, let me know what you think about the story and I hope you'll appreciate it. Enjoy! 🖤

Dean Winchester Masterlist - Masterlist

The first time it happened had felt like a bad nightmare. It wasn’t even the worst he had in all those years, and nothing really had happened. It was just him sitting on a bed in an almost empty room, but he could feel this heaviness on his chest.

He could feel his own fear.

The worst part was how real that nightmare had felt. He had become quite good at shaking his bad dreams off, but this one was different. He could still feel it deep down on his bones even hours later.

Once the feeling went away, he blamed it on the hunt he had just done and moved on until more dreams found their way to him. He kept quiet, deciding to deal with them on his own. It wasn’t his first bad dream, but then he started to have them even when he was wide awake. He had one of them even while working a case and if he hadn’t snapped out of it the moment he did he would have probably lost her.

That night, once they were back, he all but hid in his room until she made her way to him. She sat down next to him without saying a word. Her small hand grabbed his, lacing their fingers together. Dean closed his eyes while the guilt came back in full force.

“Talk to me, De.”

He sighed hearing her pleading tone, knowing full well he couldn’t keep to himself what was happening, not anymore.

“I’m having these dreams. I don’t even know if I can call them that anymore.”

Y/N looked up at him, confusion was written all over her face. He bit down on his lip, trying to figure out how to explain what was happening to him when he wasn’t really sure himself.

“They started like dreams, but now I’m having them even when I’m not sleeping.”

“And you were having one of those while we were hunting?”

Dean nodded his head, feeling his eyes sting a bit. She got a bit closer then, holding his hand a bit tighter.

“What are they like?”

“They feel so real, like pieces – missing pieces.”

“Of what?”

“Someone’s story.”

“Whose?”

“Mine.”

“No, please. I don’t want them anymore. Please –”

Dean whimpered, trying to push himself against the wall as much as he could to get away from them.

“No more, please.”

One of the nurses bent on his knees, sighing in defeat.

“Don’t make it even harder, man.”

Dean backed away a bit more when the door of his room opened, and the doctor came in. He signaled the two nurses to leave them alone, and Dean waited for them to get out before glancing toward the doctor.

“Did you take your pills, Dean?”

He looked down then, shaking his head while he hugged his legs closer to his chest.

“They’re for your own good.”

“But I don’t want them.”

“Alright, we’re going to worry about that later. For now, you have a visit.”

Dean's interests peeked up at that, so he glanced at the doctor again before shifting his eyes towards the door. A few seconds later two figures came into the room, making Dean’s eyes go wide with surprise.

“Hey, son.”

His dad tried to smile, but Dean’s attention was already focused on the other person who waved at him, unsure.

“Sammy?”

“Hey, Dean.”

“You’re back?”

“For a little while, yeah.”

The doctor waved to John, signaling to both go outside.

“Why don’t we give them some time, uhm?”

Y/N moved on the bed to face him this time. He was worried and, somehow, that wasn’t even the right definition to describe him, but she knew to have never seen him that upset.

“What happens in these dreams?”

Dean swallowed, trying to avoid her eyes as best as he could, which ended up worrying her even more. He closed his eyelids for a few seconds, not sure he had in him the courage to tell her.

“It’s bad, Y/N.”

“Nothing of what you’re going to tell me will make me look at you differently.”

He raised his eyes and the moment they landed on her he knew that she was telling the truth. So, he nodded, and taking a deep breath he let her know.

“I’m in this place – a hospital.”

Y/N tightened her grip on his hand. Fear was starting to creep on her, but she kept her mouth shut giving him all the time he needed to speak on his terms, even though all that wait was going to kill her.

“I’m there to be treated because I –” he paused to take a deep breath.

“I think I’m sick.”

Why was her heart beating so fast for a stupid dream? Maybe if he wasn’t so terrified then maybe she could have relaxed a bit.

“But they’re treating you, so that’s a good thing, right?”

Y/N desperately searched his eyes, trying to find reassurance but the moment Dean looked at her she knew it was worse than she was picturing it.

“The hospital –”

“Yeah?”

“– it’s a mental hospital, Y/N.”

They were sitting on the floor with their backs on the wall, and suddenly it seemed to be back to when they were just kids, and they spent their summer nights talking to each other about their future.

“Are you here to take me home?”

Sam’s heart cracked a bit under the weight of his big brother's question. To be honest, he couldn’t tell what hurt more between his words and the lost look on his face.

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have to get better first.”

Dean frowned, glancing down at his pale gown. He tried to process his little brother's words but sometimes it was so hard to concentrate on something.

“But I don’t like it here.”

“I know you don’t.”

“What if – what if I take my medicine and promise to be good, will you let me come back to the bunker, then?”

Dean looked at his brother, while Sam seemed to be confused by the question.

“The bunker?”

“Yeah, home.”

Sam frown deepened, not sure what he was talking about let alone know what to say to him.

“Dean, there’s no bunker.”

“Yes, there is. That’s where we live, me and you.”

Dean shook his head with force while slowly getting up. Sam sighed, getting up too but smart enough to not get too close to him to not upset him even more.

“No, we’re not, Dean. you’ve been here for a few years now, remember? While I live in California where I went to college.”

“No, no, you left college after Jessica died and we – we –”

Sam took a step forward; hands raised in surrender to let him know he didn’t want to hurt him in any way.

“Jessica is not dead; she lives with me in California. I already told you that last time we saw each other.”

Dean shook his head, pacing inside the small room trying to make sense of his foggy thoughts.

“No, no, you’re lying. I thought you were on my side.”

“And I’m, Dean.”

“Then why are you lying?”

He shouted, stopping in the middle of the room to look at Sam, who stood still watching him helplessly. Dean stared at him with teary eyes, waiting for him to say that it was just a stupid mistake.

“Say something, damn it!”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just like everybody else. You’re just trying to find a new reason to leave me again.”

He was about to take a step forward when two strong arms took hold of him. The nurse tried to calm him down, leading him towards the bed.

“Alright, calm down now.”

“No! Leave me alone!”

Sam got a bit closer, wanting to do something to help him but not knowing what he was supposed to do in a situation like that.

“Please, let him go. We were just talking. We just – I – please.”

But the nurse ignored him, taking a syringe from one of his pockets and pushing the needle inside Dean’s arm.

“No! No! Please, no! Sammy, please. Tell them it’s not a lie, please. She can’t be a lie – she can’t!”

“Who?”

Dean slowed down his movements while the nurse secured him to the bed. He stood still, staring at the ceiling. A small tear rolled down his cheek.

“Y/N –”

Y/N tried to push down the lump in her throat but the scared look on Dean’s face made her panic rise.

“We have had worst nightmares, why is this one having such an effect on you?”

Dean glanced in her direction, gnawing the inside of his cheek. He sighed, knowing she had the right to know.

“Because it feels real – too real.”

Y/N frowned at his words. All their nightmares felt real, she knew that well enough. So, she also knew there was more to it than he was telling her.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

He rubbed at his tired eyes with his fingertips, hanging low his head.

“It’s starting to become hard to say what’s real and what’s not.”

“When did all of this start?”

“It started after the last witch hunt.”

Y/N got up from the bed, pacing the room trying to think of the best way to deal with this new situation. She stopped in her tracks after a few seconds before heading to the door.

“Alright, I’m going to wake up Sam and we’re going to figure out what’s happening.”

“Y/N –”

She turned around at the sound of her name, trying to pretend she was keeping it cool but his next words made her waver.

“Yeah?”

“I feel like I’m already slipping.”

Dean stood still staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. His wrists and ankles were still secured to the bed, and yet he could feel Sam’s presence next to him, but he hadn’t had the strength to do much more than stare at the wall and think of her.

How could people think she was a lie?

Something is mind created?

Something not real?

She felt so real to him.

Even now, watching a damn wall, he could remember every single detail of her, from the sound of her voice to the colors of her eyes or the dimples on her cheeks. He could still remember how it felt to kiss her and be kissed by her, the softness of her skin under his hands, the weight of her body pressed against his, her warmth welcoming him.

And her smile – oh, that damn smile of hers.

He could still remember the way she made him feel every time he laid between her arms. She made him feel wanted.

So, how could all of that have been just a trick of his mind?

“She cannot be just a dream –”

Sam shifted in his seat at the sound of his brother's voice. For a minute he got really scared there, so he spent the last hour watching over him, just in case. He moved forward just a bit, being careful to not startle him.

“Tell me about her.”

At that question Dean’s lips curved upwards before his eyes went in search of his little brother, finding him right where he had left him.

“Y/N is – she is smart, like really smart. And loyal, one hell of a hunter, and a real pain in my ass sometimes.”

Sam chuckled at that, making Dean smile too.

“She’s also the kindest person I’ve ever known.”

“How did you two meet?”

“You know that story, Sam. You were there.”

Sam smiled sadly, nodding his head in approval. Of course, he was there, he should have known. It warmed Sam’s heart to know that he was in every one of Dean’s stories, even though they didn’t really spend that much time together anymore. So, it made sense for him to be there too. Sam patted Dean’s knees, trying to play along if that meant he could have his brother back for five more minutes.

“Yeah, I know, but I want to hear it anyway.”

“It was during a hunt. Bobby sent her as a backup, and I might have tried some of my moves on her once the job was done.”

“Did they work?”

“Hell no!”

They ended up laughing at that, with Sam studying Dean’s face who seemed to be lost miles away from where they were.

“So, how did you two end up together?”

Dean went back to stare at the ceiling, hoping he could see her again between all that white.

“It’s stupid.”

Sam smiled, thinking that surely couldn’t have been more stupid than talking with his brother about an imaginary girl. At that point, stupid was overestimated.

“I’ll decide that.”

“She held my hand when I was at my worst, and she never did let go ever since then.”

Y/N and Sam were looking for an explanation for what was happening to Dean, but they were going blind, which made everything even harder.

She rubbed her heavy eyes, feeling the tiredness catching up with her. Sighing she closed the tenth book of the last hours before getting up.

“I’m going to check on Dean.” She announced Sam, who simply nodded his head without stopping to read the page ha was focusing on. She couldn’t really blame him. They were running out of time, and of books for that matter.

She walked along the corridor until she reached Dean’s room. He was where she left him a few hours prior, on his lap a bunch of photos. Y/N closed the door behind her, leaning against it.

“None of the things that happened here had happened there, except for mom. That happened there too, and I think it was the first crack in my – in his mind. Then Sam went away, and I think he just – he just let go.”

Dean trailed off, gazing at one of the pictures he had in his hand while Y/N remained silent, not sure what to say to make him feel better, which hurt her more than she was ready to admit.

“Dad is still alive, and so does Jessica. Sam is close to becoming a lawyer. Cass apparently is my doctor and Benny’s one of the nurses at the hospital. The only one who’s nice enough.”

“So, no demons or angels, or any kind of monsters?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“And every person you’ve met here is there too?”

Dean sighed, putting aside the photos he was still holding.

“Everyone, but one –”

Y/N frowned, tilting her head to the side like that would have helped her to understand better. They stared at each other for a few seconds when finally she understood.

“Everyone but me.”

Dean nodded, watching her lowering her gaze to try to hide her teary eyes from him like she always did.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’ll be lost without me?”

She looked up at him then, trying to joke about it even though her smile didn’t reach her eyes, not really anyway.

“Yeah – yeah, you did tell me that.”

Dean whispered, a lopsided smile on his lips. He cleared his throat, turning to his nightstand to watch the picture of the two of them together.

“He’s scared. The other me, I mean.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s afraid to lose you.”

“But you said –”

“According to the doctors, he created this whole world in his head where he takes shelter from reality. The world looks a lot like my life, and he really believes that that’s real, which is why dad – John – I mean, his dad took him to the hospital in the first place.”

Y/N walked the few steps dividing them, going to sit on the edge of the bed.

“So, I’m for him what I’m for you, even if I’m not really in that world?”

“You’re real.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but –”

Dean sighed, throwing his head back against the headboard. She looked at him in silence, watching him gnawn on his bottom lip until he finally spoke again.

“I share his same fear.”

“Dean, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” she said while grabbing his hand that she squeezed to reassure him.

“But I might go to a place where you’re not there, and then what? It’s bad enough to end up chained to a mental hospital bed, but being without you? Hell, no!”

Y/N widened her eyes at his words. Did he just say –? No, she must have heard him wrong.

“You are chained where, now?”

“Not the point.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but then she decided against it. So, instead, she crawled in his lap, lacing her arms around his neck.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

“But what if –”

“I’ll find my way to you then.”

Dean smiled at that, wrapping his arms around her middle dragging her closer and hugging her a bit harder.

“What if the other Sam is right and all of this isn’t real? What if you’re no – you’re not –”

Dean’s voice died down while his eyes filled with warm, fat tears. Y/N’s heart shattered under the weight of his words, so she let her hands travel along his arms first, then his shoulders to finally reach his face. She cupped his cheeks with her hands, grazing his skin with his thumbs.

“Can you feel this?”

Dean nodded, which was enough for her to keep going. She let her lips wander to his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, and then his mouth.

“And this?”

“Yeah.”

He rasped out, letting their breaths mingle together until she deepened the kiss. Dean kissed her back, granting her access and letting their tongues graze together. Y/N let her hands travel under his shirt, pushing it back bit by bit. Dean took the hint and helped her remove the piece of clothing.

Y/N let go of him just long enough to get rid of her shirt. She grabbed his hands then, guiding them towards her naked skin. Dean put them on her hips and slowly let them travel up her body along her ribcage.

“I can feel your warmth under my fingers.”

His hand traveled up some more, reaching her covered breasts that he gently squeezed. Y/N unhooked her bra, letting it fall between their laps before feeling his hands on her again.

“Let me show you how real I’m.”

They were all gathered in his room with Doctor Novak trying to explain to them – to him – what was going to happen. He wanted Dean to get rid of his other world like it meant nothing. And maybe for the doctor it didn’t but for Dean...

According to Doctor Novak, they had to increase the dosage of Dean’s medicine, promising that once they started to work, he would be able to go back home.

Dean, though, stopped to listen to him after a few words, knowing that speech by heart. He glanced at his dad a few times before deciding to focus on Sam instead.

Was that hope in his eyes?

Dean felt a lump in his throat while he grabbed Sam’s hand in his. Sam squeezed it back, glancing up to his brother with a weak smile on his lips.

“Come here –”

Sam saw Dean pleading him with his eyes, so he scooted closer, sitting on the edge of the small bed.

“I’m so proud of you Sam. Do you know that? So damn smart – you’re stronger than me, you always have been.”

“Dean –”

“I – I can try to accept not being right in my head –”

“Dean, please.”

“No, no, listen. I can come to terms with the fact that all the things I thought I lived and felt, the monsters, the people I’ve met, were just a trick of my mind, but I can’t – I can’t survive at the mere thought of her not being real.”

“Don’t leave me – I can’t do it alone.”

Everything around them felt silent, while the eyes of the other people in the room focused on the two of them, John and doctor Novak sharing a worried look.

“Dean?”

“Sam, what’s going on, son?”

The brothers simply ignored the two other men too focused on their own conversation.

“Yes, you can.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“Hey, I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right here, and you can come to visit me every time you want. I’ll be here listening to you. No, I can’t promise to answer you back, but I’ll hear you no matter what, alright?”

Sam nodded his head while his eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t be sad. I’m just not cut out for this world, but you – oh you – you’ll do great. So, go live for me too, yeah?”

“Tell her to take care of you for me, would you?”

Dean’s teary eyes lit up at Sam’s words while a smile crept on his lips. Sam smiled back before he leaned forward to hug him. Dean hugged him back even tighter, while the tears fell down both their cheeks.

“I love you so much. My baby brother.”

And little bit by little bit, Dean’s mind faded away.

The last few days had weight on all of them, but thankfully Sam has managed to find a solution with a little help from Rowena. After that, they all went back to their lives with a sigh of relief for avoiding finding out what would have happened otherwise.

Dean’s nightmares had stopped altogether after Rowena’s spell, and yet sometimes he could still hear a faint whisper in the distance. Rowena had told him that he could still have some side effects for a few days, so he hadn’t worried much about it and simply moved on.

He was in the kitchen, a few months later grabbing some food, when he heard it again. He turned to Sam, bread in hand and with a raised eyebrow.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You sure?”

“Uhm – yeah?”

Dean shrugged, going back to prepare his sandwich.

“Weird, for a minute I really thought you had said something to me.”

Forevers Tags:

@440mxs-wife @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @morganaah

Supernatural Tags:

@flamencodiva @keep-beating-my-dear-heart @leigh70 @littlewhiterose @pastelpeaxch @snowlovespie @stixnstripesworld @hobby27

Dean/Jensen Tags:

@akshi8278 @awkward-and-indecisive @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @siospins2 @stitchintimefan @universallyraylangivens @waynes-multiverse @woodworthti666 @sexyvixen7

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