Oneshots, imagines, and ideas, oh my! *discontinued*

Soupernatural Preferences (2)

I am working on a request right now, and it will be done on time. For now, this is just something I typed up on my phone a while back and emailed to myself, I decided to edit it and put it out. I also have a very rough Sherlock imagine, the last seven minutes in heaven. If you want that, then just let me know. Anyways, this is part two to he finds out you cut (Soupernatural preferences)

Warnings: Trigger warning, self mutilation, and kissing. Do not read if you struggle with self harm. If you need to talk, message me. I know what it's like. There are also several hotlines available to help if you so desire, as well as websites. I have a few links and numbers below. (If they don't work, paste them into your browser)

Dean

You stared at the ceiling, tears dried on the side of your face. It had been at least two hours. Sam came in a little bit after to tell you he had stormed out, and to ask what was wrong. You sent him away. With a sigh you got up, deciding to go after him. You pulled on your coat and started walking to the nearby bar, where you saw the Impala parked out front. You took a breath before you went in, and you spotted him instantly. He was hunched over the bar with a glass in his hand, completely ignoring the bar skank with her breasts pushed out. You sat down on his other side. "Beat it, horella. I'll take a gin." After you had your drink, you looked at him. "Are you going to talk to me, or what?" He shook his head.

"I don't know, Y/N. You gonna talk to me?" You sighed. "I don't see why I need to talk to you. I haven't done anything wrong." He let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, you kill yourself and still tell me you're in the clear."
"I'm not going to kill myself."
"So what, you just do it for the laughs?"
"No, that isn't it. Look,-"
"What did I do?" He finally looked at you, his eyes red and puffy. "Dean." You whispered. "What did I do? I want to know, because it isn't alright, and if it's me doing something, then we need to take a break. For good." Your eyes went wide. "Dean, don't talk like that. It wasn't anything you did. It's...something I never got out of the habit of doing. I become a real emotional fountain when I don't, so-" He pulled your chin towards him

"Rain your chick flick emotions down on me, Y/N. I can't stand you scraping your knee on a hunt, so the idea of you mutilating yourself under my nose kills me." You gave him a sad smile and rubbed his cheek with your hand. "It isn't that easy." He shook his head. "It never is. But this time, it really is. Just promise me that you'll stop." Tears brimmed in your eyes. "I can't." He sighed and slammed a twenty down on the counter before pulling you out of the bar and pushing you into the impala. "Dean, what are you-"
"Shh." He sat down in the driver's seat, pulled out his pocket knife, and cut across his arm deeply. You gasped and tore off your over shirt, pressing it to his wound. "Dean! What the hell?!" He pushed you away lightly. "Look at it, Y/N. You see that? You feel that? That's how I feel." You covered your mouth with your hands.

After a few minutes of silence, you finally nodded. "I promise." He grunted and started the car, pushing it into drive. "Damn right. And i'm checking the room for blades."

Sam

The next day, Dean came and got you for breakfast. You hadn't slept at all, after you woke up an hour later. Sam didn't look at you when you sat down, and the waitress came by to take your order. "And you sweetheart? What do you want to drink?"
"Black tea with two sugars." Sam met your eyes and gave her your order at the same time. He looked disappointed. "Sam, let's just be rational about this."

"I am being rational, Y/N. You aren't."
"Dean would agree that-"
"He's pissed too." You looked at him, and he nodded, earning a sigh. "You can't dump me on the side of the road just because I have issues."
"Dump you? Why the hell would you think that we would just leave you?" You shrugged, uncomfortable. "It's not the first time that's happened. It really isn't a big deal, I'm always clean, and-"
"Are you serious? I though you were smart." Dean sat forwards. "You really think we care if you're clean or not, Y/N?" He laughed in exasperation. "That's fuckin' stupid."
"Sam-"
"I can't be with you if you don't value your own safety." He shook his head. "And you can't hunt with us anymore." You sat there, shocked. "We're taking you home after we eat."

You didn't eat, you just stared at the table, and when it was finally time to go, you kind of shambled out to the Impala. The drive to your house was silent, and you got out.

"Y/N, wait." You looked back, hopeful. "You uh, forgot your bag." Sammy held it up without looking at you. You sighed and strode up to him, pushed the bag down, and kissed him forcefully. It was a pleading kiss, an angry kiss, and you pulled away, steaming. "Whatever I need to do."
"Stop."
"Whatever I need to do." You repeated. He sighed and looked back at the Impala. Dean was leaning on his door. "What do you think?" He shrugged. "This isn't mine anymore." He looked back at you for a moment, and then shook his head. "No." That's all he said. He got back into the Impala, followed by Dean, and they left, leaving you gobsmacked in your driveway. They said they wouldn't, but they did.

You ran inside, straight to your bathroom, and pulled out a blade. You stared at it, and let it hover over your arm. Would you do it? Could you do it? You shook your head and let out a small scream, storming out as you threw it into the sink. Instead, you walked back out to your living room and sat on the couch, tears running down your red face.

Three weeks later

You sighed and slammed the trunk of your car closed. You had just finished up a fairly simple hunt, a salt and burn with no real issues. You were, however, covered in blood. Most if it, fortunately, was not yours. You heard a car stop behind you, and you jumped a little bit. You turned around, prepared to offer an explanation, to find dean smirking at you. "Look at you Y/N, back in the Pussy wagon." You rolled your eyes. He had never liked your car because it was bright yellow.

"Did I beat you to it, Dean?" You smirked back and wiped your hands on your jeans. "Sorry about that."
"You look like hell, Y/N." You stared at Sammy, even though Dean was talking to you. "Yeah. Feel like hell, too." He walked over to you. "I want this, Y/N. I want you covered in something Else's blood, looking sexy as hell with your hair messed up. I want you throwing things at my brother at night and waking up with me in the morning." You smiled. "Whatever it takes?" He wiped off your mouth with his sleeve. "Whatever it takes." He smashed his lips to yours, and you could almost drown out the sound of Dean complaining about it.

Castiel

You stormed out of your room and went over to Dean's. "What the hell Dean? You told him?" He shrugged. "I thought you had told him already and he was being clueless." You shook your head. "Now he's all upset, even though I don't do it anymore." Dean sighed. "Look, if you're always afraid of showing your scars to everyone, nobody's gonna want to be close to you." You sighed and leaned against the wall. "Damn you and your brother wisdom. Who the hell came up with that, anyways?" He shrugged.

After a while, you went back to your room to see Cas sitting on your bed, holding a bouquet of roses. "Cas..." He stood up. "I offended you, and that wasn't my intention. Dean told me that I should do something nice, like flowers." He awkwardly thrust them at you. "I just did not like the thought of you hurting yourself." You smiled, eyes damp, and set the flowers on the bed. "God, I love you." He looked at you, confused. "Why would such an expression make you say that?" You shook your head and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Why wouldn't it?"

*1-800-273-TALK - A 24-hour crisis hotline if you're about to self-harm or are in an emergency situation.

*To Write Love On Her Arms (http://www.TWLOHA.com) - A non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicide.

*1-800-SUICIDE - Hotline for people contemplating suicide.

*1-800-334-HELP - Self Injury Foundation's 24-hour national crisis line.

*1-800-799-SAFE - Domestic violence hotline.

*1-877-332-7333 - Real Help For Teens' help line.