Supernatural ONESHOTS

Beautifully Reckless

aye, forgive me? School sucks, I'm sorry! <3 But, hopefully this and my new things will make for it lovelies!

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Triggers/Warnings: Mentions of death (lots), mentions of blood, mentions of self-harm, mentions of suicide, cussing, mentions of mental illnesses.

Based off the imagine:

Anyway, sorry for all the long and crappy waiting guys. Love you lots! 

-

Each stroke of the clock ticking, tocking, echoed louder and louder, endlessly.The old lumpy bed, creaking under your fragile weight. Facing the left towards the tired nurse, her blank-blue eyes emptily gawking at you, sugary white and lilac purple poka-dots scrubs carelessly thrown on her busty figure.

"Miss Y/N," The busty blonde woman, mono-toned voice drowning in your sensitive ears, making your spine crawl out of your grimy white skin. "Arms out please."

You shivered, aware you've already failed the inspection, unraveling your arms out from your sides, deep and shallow red tinted lines trailed all over your pale flesh. Pearly pink and purple scars painted your wrist, vertically and horizontally.

The thick woman eyed your wounds, "Self-inflicted cuts again?" You nodded, the woman sighed, scribbling the observation down. "What'd you use this time?"

Nonchalantly, you pointed to the sharp edge of the chair in the corner, puke yellow and rusty red, coating in nail marks and teeth cresces. "It was a little tough to cut, almost slit my vien open, again."

"Miss Y/N," The nurse looked at you, worried and irritated with your reckless behaviour. "Please, distribute your feelings in a healthy manner. None of this, unforgiving and selfish acts."

You leaned back, allowing your back to hit the mattress, "What's the point, we die in the end anyway?"

The nurse looked down at her papers, rereading the questions for you. "What have you been feeling lately, Y/N?"

"Shitty." You spat, the nurse opened her mouth, of course to correct you misleading adjective but you covered it up, "Hopeless. Depressed."

Writing down the information, the nurse carefully asked you many obviously stupid questions, while you seethed awful, provoking answers. She sighed, then motioned two heavy men, one with big brown eyes, long thick beach blonde hair and the other one with a large patch of black hair slapped on his chin, model-like cheekbones, striking out and thin. "Escort her to the Ward-E, please as I fill in for Dr.F.Sanders."

-

Chaos was raging in a firey blaze as you strolled in, all greedy and hungry eyes torn your powder blue scrubs off and ravaging you. The lust was strangling the eyes and throats' of lunatics, making you feel uncomfortable and excited at the same time.

Not many women were placed in the Ward-E, the socially dysfunctional ward. Not many women were "mentally unstable". You were perfectly sane, "just a little sad", your sister, Janie, tells you. If she only knew. But she never will, she'd never understand. No one will nor can.

You found yourself sitting by yourself in leather puke green loveseat, the inchy bleak sweater rubbed against your tender and open wounds, making every little movement fragile. You eyed every little dent, every chipped nail, blood stain in the dusty brown walls. Every fragile window, holding a poem within its murky fingerprints and cracks bleeding out numb minding stories, and each line is delicately written but strongly explained.

The stories that hide, shadowing within these walls, behind those cold doors and barred windows. Unbearable- unbelievable. The endless shouting, angered screams, haunting laughters, sweet lies and bitter truths, always leaving you empty. Draining you emotionally and mentally.

"Heya," A rigid, deep, Southern-ish accent greeted, "Mind if I sit next to ya' sweetheart?"

You pulled yourself away from your watering thoughts, pladding your eyes over to the source of the voice, a smirk of pink tinted lips and a strong- cleancut jawline. A careless dirty blonde fluffed on his skull. Very handsome, but good God those eyes. A look of danger, a deep green streak of rebellion and wildfire painted in his eyes, framed with thick long lashes and dusty freckles around them.

He looks interesting, but lethal. Ah, what the hell?

Whadda I gotta lose, you thought, holiness tarnished and sainty for self-pride and respect ashes on the ground, gray- colorless.

"Not at all, honey." You composed your snowy pale skin together more, squeezing your tiny frame against the armrest. You felt his weight dip the couch slightly. Cool leather and earthy fresh soap seem to drip off of him and into your senses, making you shiver in a mouth-watering way.

"I'm Cliff," The handsome man said, "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Y/N," You eyes sailed over his descent and chiseled body, from those strong bow-legs, those thick arms, veins rushing with lust and fire, to that tight and proud chest, back to his fitting jawline and pink lips.

Timelessly staring into space, wondering, thinking- overthinking.

Until Pillus, the smallest man there, 5′2, came around screaming "Welcome to the insanity hellhole!"

Cliff chuckled, a bit dryly. "I'm sure ain't that bad, sweetheart."

"Ya' got no idea, pretty-boy." You cracked a sly smirk. "I've been here a long time,"

"How long?" Cliff pressed on, eagerness digging a 7 foot grave in his somber tone.

"Well, stud-muffin, it's been about," You pondered for a moment, a little skeptical of why Cliff wanted to know. "3 years. 2 months and 8 days." And every single day was bleak or bloody.

"Wow. You've been contin' that long, sweetheart?" Cliff smirked, those wild green eyes staring at your through those lashes. You nodded, as he pressed on again. "Why is that, I mean, um. Comparing to everyone else in here- you kinda seem... normal."

You chuckled at his silliness, and judgement. "Ah, ya' know the old sayin', 'don't judge a book by it's cover.'" You showcased the inside of your arms, lifting the inchy long threads off your skin as if it was a curtain, showing off your beautiful red paintings. "It's frowned upon to want death closer than ya' own family."

Cliff's breathe was strangled, "Y-Yeah, I can understand that." And he does, really understand it.

"Anyway, multiple times I've tried. Cutting mostly but a few times I tried the pills but they found a way to redeem me shortly-... I'm sorry. I'm ramblin'."

"It's okay, I don't mind it, sweetheart." Cliff gently smiled at you, kind of sadly. "Has anythin'- well," Cliff paused before find the right words, "weird happened here, within the last 2 to 4 months?"

You throat almost bubbled over a laugh, "Honey," You smirked widely. "Look around where we're at, there's no trace of normal within these walls."

Cliff couldn't argue there, it was a stupid and obvious question. "What about freaky-deaky accidents?"

"Such as?" You arched an eyebrow at him.

"Ya' know, like, uncommon deaths." He bit his tender bottom lip, thinking. "Strange deaths. Deaths that no one could even think of."

"Well, um." You blinked, remembering any strange deaths, 'freaky-deaky' accidents, but as if fire was thrown into your mind, making your scalp burn and your throat sting, one struck out, uncommon- unexplained death.

You felt your tone easy slip into a whisper, "Old man Hughes."

-

(there will be part 2 and so on... *musically skips away into the abyss*)