Supernatural Memes, Jokes, Preferences, One-shots Etc. [REQUEST IS CLOSED]

Kiss Me (Dean x Reader) Fluff

Just a sudden idea I don't want to miss. And I know it's been long loooong months since I updated this book. Well, accept my peace offering, I guess? *hides in the closet* *grabs my stash of cookies and gives it to y'all beautiful readers out there*

This is set in season 6 when Sam went to the cage.

Trigger warning: depression, self-harm and strong language.

Song: Bésame mucho (Kiss Me A Lot) by Andrea Bocelli. Let me tell y'all, that i'm more into the metal scene. But when our conductor in choir/teacher made us listen to this song "The Prayer", his version of the song with Celine Dion immediately made me fell in love with his voice. Disability is not a hindrance for him and I feel proud for him. By the way, he's an Italian Opera singer.
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One shot summary: Y/n decided to cut herself and her one and only bestfriend hunter, Dean tried to comfort her.

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I stare into the ceiling as tears continuously fell then another wave of sob starts attacking me again. Like a tsunami attacking a fragile hut.

Those words, events and pent-up feelings i'm trying to bury all these years resurfaced again. God knows how much friends and family members I've buried because of my occupation. Hunting. I tried to quit. But it seems like a fucking disease. A cancer. It's inevitable. It's like a stage four cancer. So in the end, I have no choice but just to embrace it.

I grabbed my Jack Daniels at the side of my bed and starts chugging it like there's no tomorrow. Wiping my alcohol-stained lips in an unlady-like way, I got up and went to my bathroom.

I look in the mirror. I look like an utter shit. Mascara ran down my face eyes puffy from crying, and cheeks flushed. I washed my face first and touched my scar just above eyebrows. One of the painful reminder about my past. I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed my switchblade. I smiled briefly and bitterly and slashed my wrist. I didn't gasped from the pain. It's nothing compared to the scar, bruises and broken bones I got from hunting after all these years. I got used to it. Biting my lower lip, I do it. Again and again and again.

I can feel the throbbing ache but I ignore it. Suddenly, I heard a knock then a voice bellowed followed. I tensed.

Dean.

"Shit!" I cursed and wiped my bloodied wrist and hurriedly put back my switchblade where it came from.

"Coming!" I yelled. Dean's stoic face greet me as I opened the door. I immediately turned my back to him so he can't see my puffy eyes.

"What took you so long?"

"N-nothing. Sorry. I was doing something earlier."

"Sorry to interrupt, then. But looks like you already forgot what we're going to do today. We're going to interview the victims, remember?"

"S-sorry—"

"Hey, something wrong? Face me." And he did. He noticed puffy eyes and my wrist and he held it up.

"What the hell happened?" I yanked it and crossed my arms out of embarassment.

"That's very unprofessional of me. You shouldn't have saw that. Let me freshen up and dress for a few moments so we can go to the—"

"Hell no. Just say it. Right here, right now. I wouldn't let you out unless you tell me what the hell happened." He said in an authoritative voice almost sounding like a dad. He sat at the end of the bed and look at me expectantly.

"What about the victims—"

"It can wait. Now, tell me." He crossed his arms and stared at intently. I sighed.