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holylulusworld · 4 years

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This is me trying...

Summary: A break-up always leaves you with an open wound…

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst, language, heartbreak, break-up, sadness, written in Dean’s PoV, fluff

A/N: written for @herstarburststories ‘1541 Followers Celebration’. My song was Taylor Swift’s ‘This is me trying.’

Divider by @writeyourmindaway

Written in Dean’s PoV

I pull the Impala over to slam my hands onto the steering wheel of my Baby. I hate to hurt her, but I hurt my sweetheart even more and I can’t bring myself to not feel my heart clench whenever I think about that day.

I hurt the only woman I ever genuinely loved so deeply that I am afraid there is no coming back from this.

I hurt my love, my everything. – I hurt you.

Sam left for a hunt. He didn’t even ask if I want to join, knowing I’m in no condition to hunt, talk, or even pretend that I’m not a complete mess without my sweetheart.

I hate myself for hurting you. That’s just the way I am sometimes. I panic when someone gets too close to me. Loving you would put you in the line of fire. How could I live with being the reason for your death?

Instead of admitting my feelings like a normal man, I pushed you away. Was I ever a normal man?

I never was a kid. I never was a teen. Hell, I never even got close to being normal but – you didn’t care. You didn’t tell me I’m a broken man. You didn’t tell me I am a man for one night – not the one you stay with.

You never told me I am not good enough. Cause, honestly – this is how I felt for my whole fucking life.

All my failures weigh heavily on me. I couldn’t save my mom. I failed my brother more than once. I was a demon. A careless friend. A stubborn man who never wavered.

So many people died beside me that I believe I am a bad sign and will get you killed. That night, I wanted to kiss you so badly and tell you that there is only you but, I chickened out – once again.

I've been having a hard time adjusting

I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back

I have a lot of regrets about that

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout

Could've followed my fears all the way down

And maybe I don't quite know what to say

But I'm here in your doorway

I am only ten minutes away from your new home. The one you had to move to after I shattered your heart into pieces. That night, I told you that you are nothing but a liability, but truth is – I am the one who depends on you. Maybe I am finally strong enough to admit you own my heart, body, and soul…

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

Sam said I should’ve called you that night but me being me I refused to listen. I drowned my misery in Whiskey instead of being a man and tell you that you made my heart swell anytime you smiled at me.

I came here today to lay my heart into your hands but now, I’m about to drive back toward the bunker.

Fear, that’s something I barely feel since my time in hell, Purgatory, and the way my father raised me. At least that’s what I like to tell myself. But with you, it’s different. Anytime I got too close, I feared you would reject me.

Today is the day I want to admit my feelings but now I am afraid, shake in fear that it’s too late to win your heart. “Dammit, Dean,” I slam my hands onto the steering wheel starting the engine to drive toward the next best bar but then I remember Sam’s words.

‘Dean, if you don’t want to be miserable for the rest of your life try to talk to Y/N. She loved you and if you are lucky enough, she still loves you. Stop hiding your feelings and to hurt people with rejection. Let someone in, even if it’s not me, Dean. I can’t heal your heart…only Y/N can do so…’

I kill the engine once again. My brain fights my aching heart. 'Fight or flight, Dean,' I laugh to myself as I remember the last thing you said to me before you ran out of the bunker, toward a new life without me. 'Sometimes you need to jump and not look if you will land safely,' I push the fear back down into the pit of my stomach before I start the engine.

They told me all of my cages were mental

So I got wasted like all my potential

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad

I have a lot of regrets about that

I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere

Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here

Pourin' out my heart to a stranger

But I didn't pour the whiskey

Fuck, my hands shake when I stand in front of your house. I got no clue what to tell you. I don’t even know if I will be able to face you after I let you go over a year ago.

I knock nonetheless…

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

At least I'm trying

I wait for a heartbeat, and another until the door opens and a tall guy looks at me. My heart drops; joins my fear in the pit of my stomach. “Hi, I uh-sorry,” I stammer, and the guy furrows his brows. “I wanted to see Y/N.”

“Y/N,“ the guy hums, eying me warily. I know that I needed too long when you walk toward the guy to look up at him, smiling.

“I should go,” I run. Fuck, I don’t think I ever ran that fast in my life. Not even on a hunt. My broken heart keeps me going as I can’t see you happy with another man.

“Dean, fuck,” you call my name, but I keep on running toward my car, toward my safe haven. “Winchester, my legs are shorter.”

I stop in my tracks. I take a deep breath. I swallow the heartbreak to turn around and face you.

“Hi, uh-I, I don’t…I’m sorry,”

You watch me for a while, hands on your hips. “I came here to apologize and tell you that I love you,” I mumble the words. A single tear escapes my eye and I hate you see me so weak.

John, my father drilled me to become a soldier. Cold. Emotionless. Deadly. But deep down inside, I’m a vulnerable man wanting someone to love him. Realizing I lost my only chance devastates me.

“I thought a lot about you lately,” I choke out, finally meeting your gaze. “Jody invited us and we talked about hunts and being on the road. We talked about family and all I could think about was you and how much I miss and love you…”

And it's hard to be at a party

When I feel like an open wound

It's hard to be anywhere these days

When all I want is you

You're a flashback in a film reel

On the one screen in my town

“About damn time, Winchester,” I huff when you do something I never expected. You jump into my arms, wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist before you steal the first kiss we ever shared. “Only took you a fucking year,” you press your lips back to mine, devour my mouth and I must admit, you are a hell of a kisser.

“Sweetheart,” I try to speak but you slip your tongue into my mouth whilst the guy who opened the door clears his throat.

“I assume this means I can give your room to my boyfriend?” the guy snickers before he awkwardly turns to walk back toward the house you shared.

“Now, where is Sam? How is Castiel?” I want to answer all your questions but I am too busy to press you to my chest. I sniffle, even shed more tears as you rest your head against my shoulder. “If you ever hurt me again, I will never forgive you. Tell me what you want…”

“You,” I choke out, looking at you in my arms. “Only you, Y/N,” my lips press against yours and I melt against your lips. “Only you, sweetheart.”

And I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying (maybe I don't quite know what to say)

I just wanted you to know

That this is me trying

At least I'm trying

Tags in reblog

#This is me trying...#starburstsnewmilestone #angst #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n

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superbadassnatural · 3 years

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Stranger - part one

Summary: After a disastrous date, Y/N decides to drown her sorrows in a bar a few blocks down the road. Luckily, she meets a stranger that manages to talk some sense into her. Pairing: Dean x Reader (future) // Mason (OMC) x Reader (past) Word count: 3,493 Warnings:little bit of angst, fluff, break-up, Dean being the true gentleman he is A/N: this was written for “1541 Folllowers Celebration” hosted by the sweetest of all @herstarburststories (I’m sorry this took me so long). The prompt is bolded. Hope you all enjoy!

(x)

“Whiskey,” a gravel voice mixed with the sound of the stool being pulled out of the counter. “Neat.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look in that direction. You didn’t want another person to see your face. Not that you cared that strangers saw you crying, but you were already feeling humiliated enough for one night. You downed your shot, closing your eyes as your throat burned.

The music filled your ears. You could only hope this man wouldn’t say a word to you. He was the first person to sit near you since you got here. No one dared to take place even remotely close to you, not even three stools from yours. No one wanted to sit beside a crying mess. No one wanted to feel obliged to ask if everything was fine, even though they already knew the answer.

Sometimes you hated how curious you were. You wanted to know if the man was as handsome as you imagined when you heard his voice. You shouldn’t look. The music. Focus on the music. Loud pop songs echoed in the crowded bar. A group of girls danced and screamed over the dance floor. It seemed to be like a bachelorette party. A few guys hustled pool in the back. Others tried to make their way to undergrads’ panties. Older men sat alone in booths, nursing their beer. On your peripheral view, you watched as the man tapped his glass, asking for a refill. The barman poured him another shot of whiskey.

“Mike, can I get more vodka, please?” You held your glass out for him, batting your eyelashes.

“You already had enough, Y/N,” he walked to you, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“But it did me good, didn’t it?” You raised your eyebrows. “Look, I’m not even crying anymore.”

“I know, but we should get you in a cab.”

“Just one more shot and I promise that’s it for the night,” you stuck out your pinky finger to him. He only shook his head.

“We’ve already done this three times.”

“Fourth time's the charm,” you smirked.

“Only one shot and you’re done,” he warned, pouring your drink. “Then it’s just water for you.”

“Thanks, Mike,” grinning, you took the glass from the counter and downed it.

A sigh escaped your lips as the drink burned its way down your throat. You felt a pair of eyes heavy on you. Placing the empty glass on the wooden counter, you turned to the stranger sitting within two feet from you. Piercing green eyes roamed over your form, studying you until they found their way to your eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as he seemed to stare deep into your soul. It felt as if he was unveiling your deepest secrets. You half-smiled at him with a little raise of your hand in a finger wave. He raised his glass before bringing it to his lips.

“I’m Dean,” he said with a warm smile.

“Y/N,” the sound of your voice helped to remind you of your real condition.

God, he must think you were some lunatic.

You turned away from him, facing the countless bottles displaying in front of you. Your hands flew to your face, fingers trying to clean the smeared mascara under your eyes. On your peripheral view, you noticed the man standing up from his seat. A shaky sigh escaped your lips as he started walking towards you.

“May I?” He asked, hand on the metal stool beside you.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to give him a decent answer. You just wanted to be left alone, but you didn’t want to sound rude. Unlike other people in the bar, he didn’t give you the same pitiful look. His eyes only showed kindness.

“I heard these guys have the best burger in town,” he said. “Is it true?”

Without averting your gaze from the bottles in the display, you shrugged. You could feel his eyes on you. He clicked his tongue, pursing his lips.

“You from around here? Have you eaten here before?” you didn’t answer him. “Right,” he sighed. “Guess we should order and see it for ourselves then.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” you turned to him. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I didn’t come here to flirt. So if you don’t mind-“

“Wow, wow, I’m gonna have to stop you there,” his green eyes widened. “I’m not trying to flirt with you or anything. Don’t get me wrong, but you seemed pretty beaten up so I thought that maybe you would enjoy some company to get your mind off whatever it is that’s bothering you. Now if you don’t want me here, then just say the word and I’m gone.”

“No, uh, you can stay I guess.”

“Good,” he gave you a short nod. “Burgers?”

“Yeah,” you smiled weakly.

Dean ordered a bacon cheeseburger with a portion of french fries. You decided to order the same. The two of you waited in silence. Not that there was a need to say anything. The food arrived along with two beers. A moan escaped Dean’s lips once he took a bite of his burger.

“Hmmm, this is so good,” he grumbled, his eyes closed and mouthful.

Your lips curled into a small smile at the sight of the stranger savoring his food. You took a bite of your burger, repressing a moan in the back of your throat. It wasn’t the first time you’d tried their food, but it had been a while though. They still had the best cheeseburger in town for sure.

“It’s good, huh?” He asked you, lips curled upwards.

“Yeah, it is.”

You finished the rest of your food in comfortable silence. Both too focused on the heavenly taste and the greasy french fries.

“Shit, you shouldn’t be having that,” he said as you took a sip of your beer.

“Of course I should.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he shook his head. “That Mike guy said you already had enough to drink tonight and from now on you would only have water.”

“Oh, c’mon, I’m not even drunk,” you nearly whined. “And why would you care?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I just know that if you get really drunk to the point you won’t be able to walk, then someone might want to take advantage of you.”

“Hmmm, you got a point,” you took another gulp of your beverage and he gave you a sharp look. “But you see, Mike is my friend so he’s not gonna let anyone take advantage of me. Especially you.”

“Me?” His green eyes widened, voice rising about an octave or two. “Especially me?”

“I don’t know you. In fact, you could be pretending to be nice just to drug me or something.”

“I’d never do that,” he sounded truly offended.

“How am I supposed to know you’re saying the truth?”

“Guess you just gotta trust me.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, downing the last bit of your drink. “The last time I trusted somebody all I got was an astronomical heartbreak.”

“Since I’m a stranger, I can’t break your heart.”

“But you could kill me,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a serial killer,” he rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the bottle in his hand and downing the rest of the beer. “I’m not a serial killer.”

“I know,” you chuckled. “You look harmless, Dean. You seem as innocent as a puppy.”

Dean rolled his eyes, signaling to the bartender to serve another round.

“So do you mind me asking what you're doing here?” He asked, green eyes searching for any expression that gave away the reason you were alone on a Friday night.

“Well, since you’re just a stranger and you’re not a serial killer, then I don’t mind you asking,” you pointed. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

“That sucks,” he muttered before gulping his beer. “Guess that’s why you look like you’ve been crying for hours on end, right?”

“Right,” you clicked your tongue. “What about you, Dean? What’re you doing here alone on a Friday night?”

“Relaxing I guess,” he shrugged. “Plus, a friend of mine told me the food here is great. I had to figure that out for myself.”

“Hmmm, I see,” you nodded. “Guess I look terrible right now.”

“I wouldn’t say terrible,” he leaned to your side, his lips curving in a playful smile. “You don’t look terrible, Y/N. You actually caught my eyes when I stepped inside.”

“Then you saw my face and-“

“Then I saw your face and wondered what could have broken that pretty girl’s spirit.”

“Mason happened,” you mumbled, eyes focused on the recently opened bottle in your hands.

“So the douche has a name.”

“I thought he was going to propose,” you chuckled humorlessly before taking a large gulp of your beer. “Can you believe it? How crazy is that? I was sure he was gonna propose and he broke up with me!”

“He might be worse than I thought.”

“Oh, he is. I was sure he was planning a surprise. Who the hell invites someone to their favorite restaurant just to break up with them? C’mon, look at me,” you motioned to your body. “I dressed up for this. I put on a really nice dress just to look good. ‘Cause I knew I’d remember this. I was sure I was gonna come back home with a diamond ring on my finger and we’d have some hot ‘hey, we’re engaged’ sex. I’m ridiculous.”

“No, you’re not. That guy certainly didn’t deserve you. If he wanted to break up, he wouldn’t have given you hope for a brighter future.”

“I was probably reading too much into this.”

“So? He still shouldn’t have done it this way.”

“Can you believe he didn’t even pay the check?” A dry chuckle escaped your lips.

“He’s a dick.”

“You know the greatest loves of all time are over now,” you sighed, taking a bite of the last french fry.

“No, they are not,” he shook his head vehemently, staring back at you with wide eyes.

“How do you know that?”

“How do you know they are?” He challenged.

“Look around, Dean,” you said. “Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt? Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore? Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck? DiCaprio and Gisele? They all broke up.”

“So what?” Dean blurted out, his voice rising. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it does,” you argued. “They’re all beautiful, smart, kind people and they are alone. People looked up to them. If they got divorced, then what’s left for me?”

“You have nothing to do with them,” he said. “And since you care so much about famous people and their relationships why aren’t you talking about Beckham and Victoria? Obama and Michelle? Gisele married freaking Tom Brady. He’s way better than DiCaprio,” he pointed out. “The greatest loves of all time aren’t over, Y/N.”

“But why does it feel like they are?”

Tears started to well in your eyes. Your voice wavered just above a whisper. Dean smiled sympathetically.

“You just had your heart broken by someone you care about. It’s okay to feel this way.”

“You’re a nice guy, you know?”

“I heard that once or twice,” he smiled, his head ducking down to hide the blush that crept up in his cheeks. “Now where’s that restaurant you mentioned?”

“Just a few blocks from here. The fancy Italian one,” Dean nodded. “Why?”

“Not today of course, but I’m gonna take you there again sometime.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Teasingly, your lips curled into a smirk. You were having a blast watching him get all flustered.

“No, what I’m saying is since that’s one of your favorite restaurants, you shouldn’t have a bad memory of it.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, your eyes finding his beautiful green irises. “Dean? Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, anything. Shoot.”

“When I walked down to this bar I had made up my mind that I would get drunk tonight,” you admitted. “It’s much easier to deal with a hangover in the morning than crying myself to sleep. Can you respect that?” You offered him the best pleading look you could muster.

“Yeah, I can,” he nodded, finishing his drinking and calling for another round. “I don’t judge you, alright?”

“You don’t?” Dean noticed a spark in your eyes when you heard his words.

“I don’t,” he smiled. “I’ve been there. It was a long time ago but I still remember how much it hurt. I drowned my sorrows throughout the whole week. I stank alcohol. Then things got better. They always do. You might not see it now, but you will.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Dean only shrugged. Silence fell between you. Dean finished what it was his last beer while you had a few more and some whiskey shots. Every gulp seemed like a better idea. It was. Anything was better than having that dull ache in your chest.

“Why did he do that?” You drawled as a cry broke out. Dean snapped from his thoughts and turned to you. “If he didn’t love me anymore, why couldn't he make it painless?”

“Because he’s an idiot and he only cared about himself.”

“Why people always leave me? Am I this broken that people just feel like they need to go away?”

“No, of course not,” his voice was gentle, his hand reached up to your cheek, fingers wiping the tears that fell freely. “You’re not broken, Y/N.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not broken and if people leave you, then it’s their loss,” a weak smile appeared on your lips. “You wanna hear something?” You only nodded. “What kind of tree fits in your hand?”

“What?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Your mind was too foggy to understand where he wanted to get with that.

“What kind of tree fits in your hand?” He asked again, a playful smile hanging on his lips.

“None,” your eyes casted down to your hands, examining them carefully. “My hand is too small to fit a tree.”

“No, Y/N,” he shook his head, trying to hold back his laugh. “It’s a palm tree.”

You stared blankly at him. Dean could almost see the gears in your head slowly spinning due to the alcohol. When you didn’t laugh, he decided it was better to explain it to you.

“Y/N,” he took your hand in his big one. You hummed. “A palm tree.”

“Oh,” you muttered, gaze fixated on your hand in his. Dean searched for any sign that would give away what you thought of his stupid joke. “Oh!” You blurted.

A wave of laughter came out louder than you expected. His joke finally made sense to you. Dean chuckled. He was relieved you found it funny. At least the drunk version of you did. Your laugh was contagious and the most heartwarming sound Dean had heard in months. He watched hiccups escape your lips with a smile.

“Alright, I think you had enough now,” Dean reached for the beer bottle on the wooden counter, he took a gulp and fished it. “We should get you home.”

“Okay,” you sighed, hands fumbling in your purse in search of your phone. “Here,” you placed it in his hands. “Call an Uber for me. It’s-“

“You’re not getting in an uber like this,” he shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll drop you home.”

Dean placed some bills on the counter, enough to cover your drinks and a generous tip. You hopped off the stool in a quick movement, feet wobbling, legs barely able to hold your weight.

“Hey, easy there,” he said, his hands wrapping on your biceps, keeping you steady. “Can you walk?”

“Mmhmm.”

You followed him to his car. Giggles escaped your lips out of nowhere. Dean only smiled with a shook of his head. He opened the door for you, making sure you wouldn’t bump your head or just fall on the passenger seat. You mumbled your address and were surprised that he understood what you said.

“I… I got a joke too,” your tongue drawled most ridiculously.

“You do?” He chuckled, taking a quick glance at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“I do.”

Dean waited for you to share but nothing came out.

“You not gonna share?”

“What do you call a be- a bear with no ears?” You hooted.

“What?” He smiled at you.

“A B.”

Dean chuckled. It wasn’t the kind of laugh you were expecting though. He glanced at you and noticed your arms crossed over your chest while a pout hung on your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t like it,” you mumbled.

“Of course I did,” he nearly squealed.

He pulled up in the driveway and put the car in park. Dean climbed out of it and circled. A creak echoed through your dizzy head as he opened the door. You hopped off your seat, wobbly feet causing you to lose your balance. Firm, warm hands wrapped on your elbows, keeping you from falling. You were so tired and your legs weren’t even cooperating.

“You sure you can walk?” His emerald eyes scanned you. You only shook your head in defeat, not even daring to meet his eyes. “Okay. Just gimme your keys then.”

Hands fumbling in your purse, you found the keys and handed them to him.

“It’s the bigger one,” you told him.

Dean nodded. Before your tipsy mind could get a hold of what was happening, your feet were off the ground. One arm was under your legs and the other supported your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling into his chest. The warmth of his body irradiated through the layers of clothing. His musky scent was almost inebriating.

“Hmmm, so comfy,” you muttered against his flannel.

Dean walked with you in his arms to the front door. He managed to open it without having to let go of you. Stepping inside, his eyes roamed over the living room.

“My bedroom is in the far end,” you explained, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, eyes closed.

The door to your room was open and Dean was glad for that. He walked in carefully not to have you bumping your head against the doorframe. Dean placed you on the bed. Your entire body relaxed at the feeling of the soft mattress. He removed your boots and you curled up on your side, opening your eyes to see him sitting beside you.

“You okay?” He asked, fingers gently tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Been better,” you said sleepily. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good. I’m glad,” he smiled, his thumb caressed your cheek. “You’re tired. I should get going.”

“Don’t,” you whined, holding his wrist. “Stay, please.”

“Only for a little while.”

“The room is spinning,” you chuckled.

“God, you’re gonna wake up to a killer hangover.”

“Yep.”

You got lost in his jade eyes, enjoying his proximity and the feeling of his fingers on your cheek. Even in your drunk state, you could still make some of his gorgeous features.

“Why can’t I just fall in love with someone like you?” Your voice was barely audible as you dragged out most words. “You barely even know me, but you’re already taking care of me. You’re one of the good guys, Dean.”

“I try, sweetheart,” he smiled.

“I can see myself falling for you.”

“Nah, you can’t,” he scoffed. “You’re probably seeing two of me right now.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled.

“I’m gonna get you some water, then you’ll go to sleep, alright?”

“Alrighty,” you yawned.

Dean headed to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. He felt bad seeing you this way. He could see it in your eyes how much you were hurting over the break-up. He walked back into the room only to find you already asleep, curled on your side. He placed the glass on the nightstand.

Before leaving, Dean searched for some paper. He fumbled in your drawers, finding a block of sticky notes and a pen. He wrote down on the paper and left it on the nightstand, your phone on top of it. Dean exited the room, closing the door behind him, and left the house. He made his way to the car and he couldn’t help but hope he’d see you again.

Tomorrow you’d wake up to a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and several waves of nausea. Then you’d found his note resting under your phone.

You probably don’t remember me, but I’m the guy who brought you home safe and sound. I can help you remember what happened last night. And I kinda owe you a date to that restaurant you like. Just call me: (785) 389-7216 or don’t. I don’t know. - Dean.

Read part two here!

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Forevers: @hobby27 @thewinchesterandreidwhore

Dean Sweethearts:@maya-craziness @akshi8278 @herfalsegod @witch-of-letters @weepingwillowphoenix @deanmonandnegansbitch

#starburstsnewmilestone #supernatural #dean winchester #spn #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #deanreader

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baconcheeseburger · 3 years

Text

It killed you just the same

Summary: Dean runs into a shapeshifter while he is out grabbing some food. The shifter changes his apparence and changes into you. Dean manages to capture and kill it, but at what cost?

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, regret, hurt / comfort, does this shit count as whump?, sad!Dean (oh boy did I hurt the poor guy, I’m so sorry),

Word count: 3203

A/N: Finally! First half (and a short bit at the end) is in Dean’s POV, second half is in Reader’s POV. Both are written in first-person. This was written for @herstarburststories‘s follower celebration. My prompt was ”You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same” Banner and divider were made by me.

Dean’s POV:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My chest is rising and falling like crazy, my lungs are burning so much as if I had just ran non stop for three miles and at the same time I feel like I'm suffocating. I try not to breathe too deep. Try not to inhale the sickening scent that lingers in the old empty factory building I am standing in.

As much as I want to, I just can't bring myself to tear my eyes away. I try to look away with all the strength I have in me, but I just can't do it. My eyes are glued to the limb body in front of me. The small frame is covered in blood from head to toe, the skin cut open in so many places by a knife. My knife. Fuck, there is so much blood….

I have to turn away from this, urgently. This whole thing has already been hard enough, why do I have to torture myself even more? Why do I have to keep staring at the body, keep staring at the damage I have done?

Maybe, deep down, I know that I deserve it, deserve the pain. Deserve to break myself more and more. After everything I have done - and haven't done. I always knew that there would be no happy ending for me, that I would never be happy, or even deserve to be happy. Until Y/N came into my life. I thought that maybe, maybe, I could get some small piece of happiness.

It is so quiet in here, I can hear the blood that is still running over her hand and fingers drip into the puddle of blood around the chair on the concrete floor.

I slowly raise the hand I am holding the bloody knife in and try to wipe it clean on my sleeve. The metallic yet somehow slightly sweet smell creeps its way deeper into my nose and my stomach turns at the thought of whose blood it is. Well, not exactly, but my mind just can't wrap around the fact that it technically isn't her blood, that it isn’t her I killed just moments ago.

The mark is burning hot on my arm, somewhat satisfied yet screaming for more. But my whole body is in pain and at the same time I feel so numb, I almost don’t recognize its pull. I know my thoughts are racing, I can feel them racing around in my head, but I can’t make out what I am thinking. I have no idea. Everything is blurry and yet so clear.

I find myself back in the Impala. Sitting in the front seat and staring out of the front window. One hand on the wheel while I absently claw into my forearm with the other, where the mark still burns. I have no idea how I got in here or how I did everything I had to do in the last thirty minutes. I somehow managed to burn her body - no dammit, its body! - and got rid of every evidence. My body on autopilot the whole time, my mind blank.

This must have been the most fucked up thing I ever had to do. My worst possible fear had become reality tonight. I had, kind of, turned into my biggest fear. Ever since I took the mark and first felt its effects, I am scared to death that I could hurt her, could kill her. In the beginning I even considered sending her away, getting her out of my life, out of harm's way. And I tried. I really tried, believe me. I pushed her away, ignored her and practically treated her like shit, but she stayed with me. Was there for me. Never left my side.

I take a deep shaky breath while my eyes flutter shut. I let my head sink down onto the steering wheel and press my forehead into the leather. I try my best to keep the gruesome images out of my mind, but I fail horribly. I see it over and over again. The pained expression on her face when I stuck the silver knife into her stomach, her pleading Y/E/C eyes filled with tears, her begging and her scratchy voice after all the screaming. I don’t think I will ever be able to forget this.

My throat hurts and my ears are ringing from a scream I didn’t even realize I let out.

I reach into my jacket to grab my keys, but it’s empty. So is the other side. When I can’t find them in the pockets of my jeans either I start to panic. Please God, don’t make me go back in there. Please, please. My eyes search through the interior. Maybe I dropped them. Or I put them on the dashboard. Or maybe I… A relieved sigh leaves my lips when I see them in the ignition. Fuck, I have to calm down so I can get away from here. I just want to leave, want to be back home, want to be with her. Need to be with her. There are no words for how relieved I am that the bunker isn’t far away.

I turn the keys and Baby’s purring instantly calms me down a bit. Not much, but enough so I can drive home safely. I turn her around and drive back as fast as I can.

The smell of blood gets thicker and thicker in here the longer I drive. I open the window as soon as it gets too much, but as it turns out, that was a bad idea. The air that comes in just stirs it up, makes it worse. I jerk the wheel violently to the side, stop the car with screeching tires and open the door. My knees hit the asphalt, I fall forward and start to heave.

When I’m sure I will no longer throw up I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and let my back fall against the side of the Impala. Tears are burning in my eyes, fighting their way down my face. I bury my face in my hands and let go. Let all the pain I am feeling out.

Everything is blurry. I don’t know if I am still crying or if it's the result of the state I’m in. The numbness never left.

Y/N’s POV:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stir awake and lift my head from the book that I still hold in my hands. I must have fallen asleep while I waited for Dean to come back. Speaking of him, what time is it? He should be back by now, he just wanted to grab some beer and burgers.

With a long, loud yawn I turn to my back and stretch. When I roll my head around to ease the pain in my neck, my gaze falls to the door and every bit of sleepiness left in my body is gone. I gasp at the sight before my eyes and immediately jump to my feet.

Dean stands in the door, covered in blood, shaking and crying. My heart dropped. God, what happened to him?

“Dean! What happened? Are you okay?” I run to him and start to roam his body with my hands, searching for any injuries, but except for a few scratches and bruises on his face I can’t find any. It's not his blood, thank god. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move. Just keeps staring at me with wide, heartbroken eyes. It’s almost as if he is looking through me. I have never seen him like that and it scares the shit out of me.

I take his face in my hands and stroke my thumbs over his cheekbones, trying to wipe his tears away. “Baby… Please say something….”

His eyes focus on mine and now he looks at me, really looks at me.

“Y/N…” Dean’s voice isn’t louder than a whisper, almost inaudible, but I am still able to hear all the pain in his voice. His face twists in pain and he leans forward, crashing me against him in a tight grip. He buries his face into my neck and starts sobbing. Before I can react his legs give a way, pulling me to the floor with him.

“Dean!”

I reach my arms around his back and hold him as tight as I can. My heart is breaking with every sob that shakes through his body. I have never seen him so broken. He doesn’t say a word, just grabs me tighter and tighter, clutching onto me like a drowning man.

As much as I want to know what happened to him, I don’t push him any further. Instead I hold him and brush through his hair, try to give him as much comfort as I can.

It took Dean a long time to compose himself enough to talk about the incident.

He tells me that he heard a scream near the parking lot of the diner he wanted to get the burgers from. He followed the sound, only to find a young girl - not older than seven or eight - laying motionless on the pavement, a man standing over her with a bloody knife in his hand. He had slid the kids throat, in the middle of the day in some kind of dark alley. When he saw Dean he grimaced and took off. Dean followed him to an abandoned factory, where he found the appetizing slime pool of shifter skin. And after some time searching around he had found him, but he had changed his appearance. Apparently the shifter knew who Dean was, knew who we were. He had changed into me.

After Dean ends I swallow hard and try to blink away the tears that are trying to escape my eyes. For a while I am just sitting there with him on the floor in the door frame, holding him.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” I help him stand up and when I am sure he is standing straight I pull him with me.

We slowly make our way to the bathroom and when we are there I open the door and let him walk in. I close the door behind us and when I turn around I see him standing in the middle of the room. His hands are still shaking, but otherwise he stood still, not making a single move to undress himself.

I close the space between us and cradle his face again, my thumbs brush over his cheekbones to get rid of the tears that were still running down. His eyes flutter a bit and with a shuddering breath he slightly leans into my palm. I slide my hands down his neck and push them over his chest and shoulders to pull the dirty, bloody jacket off him, throwing it carelessly to a side where he doesn't have to see it.

While I help him undress Dean is stealing glances everytime he thinks I don't see it. But I do and the expression in his eyes let my heart break even more. I wish I could take it all away from him, could take away his pain, his guilt. His fucking mark. I would take it myself in a heartbeat, but he would never let me do that. And I get that. If it would be the other way around, I wouldn’t either… God how I wish we could get rid of it. But we still haven’t found a fucking way.

When he’s left in a shirt and boxer shorts I face the shower, turn it on and set the water to a high temperature. The hot water starts to fog, which slowly starts filling the bathroom.

After I help Dean out of the rest of his clothes I take his hand into mine and guide him under the stream. He places his hands on the tiles and leans forward, head hanging low and water running down his broad shoulders and back.

I fish for his favorite showergel and shampoo out of the drawer where we keep all our shower stuff to bring it with me into the shower. I undress myself, my clean clothes piling up on his bloody ones. Another attempt to make him not see them.

Before I step into the cabin as well I wait for a moment, let him have a minute alone. I watch his shoulders rise and fall in shuddering motions, watch the water drops roll down his skin.

Dean pulls his right hand away from the wall and buries his face into his palm. His left hand clenches into a fist.

I step behind him and squeeze some of the shower gel into my hands. “‘M gonna touch you now, ok?”, I whisper, not really awaiting an answer if I had to be honest. I don’t think he really heard me either, but I wanted to let him know nonetheless, not wanting to startle him.

After I rubbed the gel between my palms I begin to spread it over his shoulders, running my hands up and down his back and press my thumbs down to knead his sore muscles. The more time passes, the more he seems to relax. At least I thought so, until I hear a sound over the patter of the water. I almost don’t register it, but when I feel Dean shaking more again, feel his shoulders quivering, I know what the sound is. Know, he is crying. Know, he is breaking into even smaller pieces than he had already been shattered before.

I place my forehead between his shoulder blades and wrap my arms around his middle, spread my hands over chest and stomach and press my body against his back. It hurts me so much to see him like that, to know that I can’t do anything to take the pain away and make it better.

“Dean. She killed someone, she killed a child”, I whisper, my eyes closed. “You had to kill her; you had to kill ‘me’. But it killed you just the same, and that’s why you have to remember that it was a shapeshifter. A monster. Not me, not the real me.” I press my lips against his skin, plant kiss after kiss on his shoulders and neck, trying to calm him down. "It wasn't me." I squeeze him before I loosen my grip on his body and move in front of him, my hands never leaving his torso. He bites on his bottom lip, closes his eyes and turns his head away, his face twisted in pain.

“Look at me, Dean.” I lift my hands to cup his cheeks. "Please, baby.”

He takes a deep breath and turns his head back, hesitantly opening his eyes, revealing a raging storm of emotions.

“I am here, you hear me? I am here, right here - with you - and I am alive. I'm here to stay. I know, you think otherwise, but even with this god-forsaken mark on your arm, you won’t hurt me. You would never hurt me, not in a million years. No matter what.”

Dean’s POV:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

God, I love her so much. What have I done to deserve this woman in my life? I admire this about her, her optimisms and that she always sees the good in people, but how can she stand here and be so damn sure that I won’t hurt her? I am no good, nothing but a killing machine. Evil. Rather sooner than later she will die and her blood will be on my hands. She should run as fast and far as she can; as long as she is still able to.

I can’t do or say anything. I just look at her, look into her Y/E/C eyes. My heart is clenching so hard it hurts again, even though it is a different - a good - kind of pain. I lean forward and press my lips to hers and try to fight the sigh that is trying to escape my throat.

Shortly after we step out of the shower cabin. Y/N tells me to wait so she could get some towels, so I just stand here, feeling lost. Until my eyes land on the pile of clothes that isn’t laying too far away from me. Her clothes almost fully cover mine, but I can see my jacket peeking out under them. As if an invisible string is pulling me into the direction I begin to walk towards the pile. I get down and rummage through the clothing until I find what I am looking for.

I’m already standing again when Y/N comes back, a slight smile on her lips when she steps closer and puts one of the towels on my head and starts to rub over my hair. The object in my hand behind my back feels heavy.

She is so concentrated on drying my hair, that she doesn’t notice that I am staring at her. When she does though, she smirks. “What?”

Without saying another word I move my hand in front of me. She glances down and immediately looks back up with wide eyes, shock in her face.

And then I plunge forward. Her body collides with the hard wall behind her and she gasps. A silent scream written all over her face as the first blade pierces her skin, gliding through her flesh like butter. There is blood flowing out of the corner of her mouth and she tries to say something, but nothing but a gurgling sound leaves her lips.

Fascinated I watch the life slowly leave her eyes; and when they roll back and her body goes limp… I just smile.

“Y/N, NO!!”

With a loud scream I shoot up. It takes a second, but I can make out where I am. I’m in my - our - room, sitting in bed. My shirt is sticking to my skin and drenched in sweat.

Y/N jerks up, about to grab her gun from the nightstand to defend herself. As soon as she sees me, she looks worried.

“Dean? What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

I can just look at her. This fucking nightmare had felt so real. I can still feel the blade in my hand, can still smell the blood.

When I don’t answer she lifts her hand and brushes over the side of my head. “You okay, baby?”

I shake my head, not able to say a word.

Y/N scoots closer to me and brings me down with her, pulling my head to her chest. I instantly wrap my arms around her waist and pull her as close as I can and let her heartbeat calm me down.

“Shh… It’s okay.” Her hands come up and she starts to stroke over my arm and through my hair. “I’m here. It was just a dream, everything is okay.”

Tags: @akshi8278

#starburstsnewmilestone #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #bacon wrote a thing #mine #my writing

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

1541 Followers Celebration!

1541 because every follower is important to me. Every person had their finger on making this blog what it is: the people that were too shy and sent anonymous requests, the ones that just talk to me in dms, and those who always like my posts. But of course, a special thanks to the ol' followers and the ones who always reblog and comment. You guys are the love of my Tumblr.

It's been a long journey, some hiatus and so many changes. I marvel at how some of you guys stuck with me through all the phases of this blog. But hey, let's get to the fun business!

I'm hosting my first challenge. All the prompts and music are from Taylor Swift's new album folklore, that just fits so much in spn... But will be open for more fandoms as well! Why am I still talking? Just check it out!

Rules:

You can write based on song or pick the prompt (or both).

Send me an ask or dm to claim your prompt and say what you are writing for. Ex: prompt number 7, Dean x reader.

Fandoms: mainly Supernatural, but also open for Marvel & DC (RPF included).

Tag me on the autor notes and use #starburstsnewmilestone

Fluff, gen, smut, angst, crack: your choice! Just tag accordingly.

No max words, minimum of 500.

You don't need to be following me, but I'd be grateful since it's a followers celebration.

NO underage or water play.

Deadline is November, 5 (before SPN ends because I know we all will be crying)

Prompts:

the 1 or “You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.” taken by @superbadassnatural!

cardigan or “I knew you'd come back to me.” taken by @bi-danvers0!

the last great american dynasty or “She had a marvelous time ruining everything.” taken by @jawritter!

exile or “I can see you staring, honey. Like he's just your understudy. Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me.” taken by @deansblackbeauty!

my tears ricochet or “You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same.” taken by @baconcheeseburger!

mirrorball or “Hush, I know they said the end is near.” taken by @ladyofmaidensandwine!

seven or “Your dad is always mad.” taken by me!

august or “Meet me behind the mall.” taken by @msmarvelouswinchester!

this is me trying or “Pouring out my heart to stranger, but I did not pour the Whiskey.” taken by @holylulusworld!

illicit affairs or “Don't call me kid. Don't call me baby. Look at this idiotic fool that you made me.” taken by @negans-lucille-tblr!

invisible string or “Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart, now I send their babies presents.” taken by @itsangelpie!

betty or “The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you.” taken by @deansmyapplepie!

mad woman or “And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry. And there's nothing like a mad woman.” taken by @bcr36!

epiphany or “Some things you just can't speak about.” taken by @samskia-writes!

peace or “Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?” OPEN

hoax or “You know it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart, but what you did was just as dark.” taken by @blue-lion1!

the lakes or “I don't belong. And, my beloved, neither do you.” taken by @deanmonandnegansbitch!

PS: Preference is reader insert fics, but you can write for some couples as: Dean x Cassie, Dean x Lisa, Sam x Castiel, Sam x Anael, Anael x Ruby, Jensen x Jared, Dick x Kory, Kory x Babs, Jason x Roy, Bruce x Diana, Clark x Lois

Tagging people that might join/signal boost: @demonhunterbarbie @bi-danvers0 @kalesrebellion @ladyofmaidensandwine @msmarvelouswinchester @deansrightfulangerissue @superbadassnatural @deansmyapplepie @deanmonandnegansbitch @deanwinchesterswitch @negans-lucille-tblr @holylulusworld @anathewierdo @jay-and-dean @carryonmywaywardbucky @baconcheeseburger @deansblackbeauty @talesmaniac89 @i-sing-for-me @samskia-writes @amanda-teaches @hellscrown @that-winged-rat @impala-1979 @crispychrissy @22sarah08 @mummybear @roonyxx @deanwanddamons @squirrelnotsam @mila-dans @huntertales @alleiradayne @jawritter

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