Dean X Reader Angst - Tumblr Posts

Crushing

Dean x gn!reader

Summary: y/n has found Dean in a compromising position, Dean has found out about y/n’s crush. Not everything ends well.

a/n: Sorry! I just love some angst sometimes, and I love writing angst. Let me know what you think. Or even request a fic :)

warnings: angst, implied sex/adult themes

word count: 945

“You’ve got to get over this crush thing” Dean yelled, his arms waving up and down in the space between the two of you, the argument escalating. Why oh why did he have to find out the small crush you had been harbouring, which had developed a few months after you first met him.

The argument had started about ten minutes earlier, when you had walked into the bunker, finding Dean on top of a scantily clad woman. Her blonde hair was a mess, sprawled out across the floor, Dean’s hands were in it, grabbing and pulling as he made out with the unknown woman. Her lipstick was smeared all over his face, his shirt was undone, the sleeve halfway down his arm, his belt was unbuckled, and you watched him groan and moan as he grinded his clothed cock against the woman’s leg.

The short gasp and the small wail that you accidently let slip, betrayed your presence in the room. Dean and the woman turning their heads to look at you. You froze, tears welling in your eyes, your fight or flight kicking in, fear and hurt flooding your body. You span around and ran, but as you left you heard Dean sigh, before muttering “I have to deal with this, look I’ll call you later Maria.”

You could hear his feet thumping on the floor behind you, before he aggressively grabbed your arm, pulling you back, a small squeak escaping your lips, as he turned you round to look at him. You didn’t look at him though, you didn’t want to see his face, his green eyes, his slight brown stubble; you didn’t want to see the bright red lipstick stains peppered over his face, you didn’t want to see his swollen lips from the heavy make out session. To be honest you didn’t want to see Dean at all, you wanted the ground to swallow you hole, to go back in time, never meet Dean, never fall in love with him. You just wanted to be alone.

“Look at me y/n!” Dean growled, roughly grabbing your chin, with his hand, a hand that had been touching that woman, and playing with your hair; it made you feel dirty, like you wanted to peel your skin off. You pulled away from his touch, your eyes still not meeting his green ones, the ones that previous to today you could spend hours getting lost in.

“You’ve got to get over this crush thing” Dean yelled, his arms waving up and down in the space between the two of you, the argument escalating. Your heart shattered, it felt like only yesterday when you had fallen asleep in the library and Dean had picked you up and carried you to bed, it felt like only yesterday when he kissed you on head and tucked you on the bed whispering “I love you, y/n”. It felt like only yesterday; but it wasn’t it was two months ago. That night gave you hope, it made your heart flutter, hopes that one day Dean would be your future. But now, that hope has died, the butterflies that lived in your stomach, poisoned leaving you in cramps. The heart flutters you felt before warping and making your heart feel like it would almost stop.

“Look, y/n. I don’t feel… whatever it is I’m supposed to feel for you”

“But you told me you loved me!” You finally found your voice, yelling at him, fury spreading through your veins, covering you body in hard armour. You were going to at least fight for this, fight for the two of you, even if nothing had fully bloomed yet.

“I love you, y/n” He assured, your heart healing slightly, hope bubbling up from the pit it died in, but then he continued. “I love you so much… just not in that way.” You gasped, stepping back slightly like you had been shot, you felt like you had been shot; and Dean was the one pulling the trigger.

“I don’t want to lie to you, y/n. I care about you, I always will, but you and me, are never gonna happen.”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Every sentence, every word was like another bullet piercing your heart, shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces. Your head starts to spin, bile rising in your throat, a slight burn left in its place. You finally look into your ‘shooters’ eye, the different hues of green swirl together in a mixture of sadness and pity. Dean tries to reach out to comfort you, but you slap his hand away.

He signs, lowering his arm. “y/n” He whispers, “you need to move on.” He finishes, turning around and leaving you alone, in the corridor of the bunker, alone like when you first met him, alone like you have been for most of your life.

Your body gave into the void, it felt like you were falling forever, your knees smashing into the floor, the pain shooting through your body, yet the physical pain hurts less then Dean’s words. You were wounded, but no one could fix you. A thousand pieces it a lot to put back together, and there were some pieces sure to be lost. Leaving a hole, a void never able to be filled. Even if you painted the pieces gold, nothing could mend your broken heart.

You sat on the floor, a puddle of tears surrounding you, hoping that it would get deep enough to drown out your hurt, your fears, your anger. You were alone again, with nothing but a broken heart and the words of the one who loved you bouncing around your head.

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Wish, I could have told you sooner

Day 2: No dialogue

Dean x reader

Summary: Dean wishes he had spoke sooner

a/n:I said this would take longer than 30 days XD. Heres day two! Very angsty. I love angst (if you couldnt tell).

warnings: Angst, and more angst

word count: 625

Dean stared at the bright phone screen. The phone displaying all his messages sent to you, the little green text boxes haunting him, teasing him even. Every single one had been sent and delivered, yet never read; and he knew deep down, that they would never be read. Dean was in his own world, nothing around him mattered, he was numb yet felt everything at the same time, though his eyes still stayed fixated on the screen in front of him. It was only when the texts and screen started to become difficult to read and became blurry, did Dean realise he was crying. Tears dropping onto the messages, magnifying the words.

Dean always used to say no chick flick moments. Normally, he kept his heart caged, locked up with his emotions; but today all his rules went out the window. Before he would have scrubbed furiously at his eyes until they were red and raw, but to the point where he knew his tears had been erased. But today he didn’t care. He didn’t care who would see him; he just continued to sit there, allowing his tears to dribble down his cheek before dripping onto the phone screen.

Dean was warm in his suit, he never really dressed for the nines. But today was different. He felt uncomfortable, and restricted. The impala felt smaller and didn’t feel like home. Baby pulled up by the green grass, the driver Dean had hired not speaking a word. Dean clutched at the flowers in his hands, knuckles going red and purple. He could tell he was nervous, his hands were getting sweaty, so he gripped the flowers tighter. He took one last look at his phone, before slipping it into his suit pocket. The inward battle to get out of the car was almost too great, and he nearly asked the driver to turn around, so he could go back to bed; but he knew you would want him to be there. So, he slowly clambered out the car, his legs were wobbly, and he felt like a baby dear learning to walk, but he put one foot in front of the other, walking towards the green grass, to where the others were stood.

It felt like Dean had been stood for hours, yet in reality it was 5 minutes. He spotted his brother first, and bobby. Before he saw the brown stained wood, formed to perfection. It was quiet and no one said a word. Dean was asked if he wanted to help carry you out, but he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to believe in was you being carried.

He watched as you were lowered softly and gently into your new home. He hardly paid attention to anything else. He felt like someone else was in control of him, almost as this was all a bad dream. He pinched himself yet didn’t wake up. It wasn’t a bad dream; it was a real-life nightmare.

He watched as people started to turn and walk away. He watched as your gravestone was placed, and you were covered with dirt. He watched until he was the last one left. He watched until he collapsed into a heap. Head leaning against the cold stone, which bared your name, Tears gushing down his face, his hands still clenching onto the flowers, like they were the only thing keeping him alive. He cried for hours, until the heavens opened, and his tears were inconspicuous from the rain. He cried for your loss, even when the evening came, and the sun started setting. He cried. He stayed until he was exhausted, his tears running out. He didn’t get to tell you everything he wanted to, and now he never would.

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