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That’s the main reason you started to etched lines on your arms and thighs. Lines that were deep and red, and are now healed to leave scars. Scars that will always remind of that faithful day you had made it. It’s wasn’t just cutting or self harming, or what people call it being ‘emo’. It’s not that. It’s way more deeper than just that. There’s a whole story under that deep cut. The scar only being the reminder.

One that you specifically can never forget was the first one.

The event that made you start doing this. It was the day your family was killed in front of you. To you, you were the reason it happened. You were just too damn special. The demon killed your whole family as you watched, completely unharmed. You didn’t know how to grieve. You screamed, you cried, you punched a whole in the wall, but nothing seemed to even let you feel just how much it hurt.

So you sat in the unfilled bathtub and you looked to nowhere in particular, then you saw something shine in the corner of your eye. It was the small blade that you had used before to remove the stickers on your phone. It shone too bright to be unnoticed.

You picked it up and your mind went blank. Your hand moved on its own, going to your inner forearm. Time ticked fast, to you, it was extremely slow, and you find yourself making a deep cut. You weren’t looking at your arm, you felt oddly numb. You reached the end of the line and you looked to your side.

You saw the blood ooze out and suddenly you were feeling everything all at once. The pain of the cut, the pain of your family dying, the pain of being left. You felt it all. You stared at your arm in pain, eyes pooling with tears until they all fell down. your cried until you felt spent and tired.

You eventually treated your arm, patching it up, thinking of reasons as to why that’s there in case people ask about it.

That was 6 years ago.

The lines seems to add up. One was when it was your best friend getting killed. One when your boyfriend roughly broke up with you when he knew you were cutting yourself. Since then, you started to cut else where so it didn’t look like it was on purpose. You were embarrassed about them but now you couldn’t stop.

Even when you started hunting, you didn’t stop. Hunting made it more powerful even.

The weight on your shoulder built up and the world seemed to have a way at you. You were running out of places to etch a line so you started to make them smaller but deeper or you would make one that you knew will heal and disappear a few days after, seeming like it wasn’t there at all. The problems you knew you could get over deserved the small fading cuts. They didn’t need to be that all of a reminder but you knew you had to do it. To make you feel something, anything.

Hunting brought you everywhere. You have gone to every state, not having a home to go back to, just your trusty black mustang and your own skin. But that all changed when you found yourself beaten up after a case that so happened to be taken by another set of hunters. They took you in, Sam and Dean Winchester.

They offered aid to your wounds, food to eat, and most importantly, a roof to call your home, somewhere to go back too, even your horse gets a roof.

You were more than thankful, but then you got scared when they saw your scars. You would say they’re battle scars from hunting, some are true, most are not. Even getting some sort of blessing, you still found that cutting was still your outlet. As the years went by, you were getting good at making up reasons as to why there’s a scar here and there, some got faded too, but they’re there, and you’d tell the brothers it’s from this hunt or this hunt, which of course they did not question. Scars comes in the package deal of hunting.

A few days ago, you three were on a demon hunt, one that you always get serious on due to your past experiences with demons. In this one, they had killed a lot of people, and when you three found them, they were taking children. It reminded you of your younger siblings.

Their cries and pleas were in your mind as you killed the demon but in the peak of success, there was another demon who had just made himself present and killed the remaining kids that were supposed to be safe and back with their families.

Your eyes widened, tears glossing them, your mouth falling open as you gasped inaudibly. Everything seemed to have stopped that moment. You froze, blood running cold, and your heart clenched, as if it just had been taken out of your chest. You couldn’t scream, you couldn’t find your voice. You watched everything in slow motion as Dean killed the last demon there. You were frozen in the spot and Dean knelt to your level, bringing you up with him.

Sam looked at you, horror in his eyes as he saw you look at the children on the floor, their blood pooling at their bodies. You shook, not in fear, but with the coldness everything has become.

Dean sat you on the back seat and you stayed still. He knelt in front of you, holding your face between his huge calloused hands. “Sweetheart, please talk to me, look at me.” He begged. You weren’t there as far as concerned. Your eyes were blank and cold, and even if you were staring right at Dean’s bright green eyes, he couldn’t see you. Your eyes were lifeless.

He shook you, trying to pull you back to him but you’ve already managed to build thick walls around you once again. Dean cursed under his breath as he saw you were now impenetrable, years of getting you to open to them, lost in one second. “(Y/n)…” Sam whispered as he knelt beside Dean, taking your other hand in his, caressing it gently. His were soft, a little rough on the edges but it was soft.

Dean sighed, seeing as nothing can make you speak, not yet. He stood up and made his way to the driver’s seat and Sam situated you in the backseat. He sat up front and they both looked at you from the rear mirror. You were pale, emotionless, cold, and lifeless.

Dean drove as fast as he could to go back to bunker. The ride was silent, too silent to build any comfort, and it was too much for Dean to bear.

Once you got to the bunker, you went out the car and into your room in an instant, leaving everything behind in the car. The brothers watched you walk, like you weren’t in any control of your own body. “Shit, Sam, she’s too far gone.” Dean muttered. “We can get her back, you can get her back.” Sam said. “I don’t know if I’m capable of that. Just one moment and the happy bubbly (y/n) we had is gone.” Dean sighed.

“You love her, I think you’ll be able to do that.” Sam said, encouraging his brother. “I hope so, Sam–I hope so.”

You went inside you room and sat in bed, not even bothering that blood has seeped through the sheets. You couldn’t care less. You stared at the wall, feeling numb all over again. Like that day 6 years ago. You didn’t move for more than 5 hours. You didn’t eat or drink anything, you were just there, all numb. Sam and Dean decided to leave you for now but Dean got the best of him.

It was 2 am and Dean went to your room, seeing the light seeping through the gap. He sighed and knocked. When he received no response, he held the door knob and slowly twisted it, pushing the door opened. He looked inside and saw you in bed, your hunting knife in hand, and cutting your forearm deeply.

“(Y/n)!” He panicked.

You heard him knock, you heard him enter, you heard him panic, but it didn’t seem to cut you out of your reverie. He immediately took the knife from your hand, tossing it far away, and getting any cloth to cover your cut. You looked down and saw the blood drip to your bed. You looked up, terror in your face, and saw Dean’s eyes locked with yours.

Your eyes widened, suddenly going back to life.

You then felt it all. The pain from the cut, the pain from the events that just happened a few hours ago. You broke down, your tears suddenly like streams. You sobbed against Dean’s chest as he hugged you tight. “Sam!” He screamed and after a few moments, Sam rushed into your room and shock was evident in his sleepy eyes.

He immediately went and got the first aid kit and went beside you. You were crying hard, screaming in pain inflicted to you by many factors coming to you all at once. Sam managed to stitch you up as you trashed against Dean’s body. He held you to him, squeezing you to let you know he’ll be there. He watched you hurting and it pained him, tears welling at the sides of his eyes. His bright green eyes now clouded to darker one.

Sam cleaned up your wound and didn’t say anything. He kissed your head and squeezed your hand before leaving you alone with Dean.

You shook as you cried and Dean soothed you, running his hand through your hair and down to your back. “I’m here, sweetheart, talk to me, look at me.” He said, tilting your chin up. “Please.” You did and you met his loving eyes. That made you sadder.

“Dean, I didn’t mean for you to see this.” You quietly sobbed. He hushed you and brushed his thumbs on your cheeks. “I didn’t want you find out that I’m cutting myself.” You said. He softly held your arm. “Did you do all these?” He softly asked, scanning them with his eyes. You nodded and closed your eyes, preparing yourself to see the disappointment in his. “Look at me, (y/n).” He breathed and you opened your eyes.

“I’m not going to put you down and tell you that you shouldn’t have done this, I respect you choices, but (y/n), please, from now on, stop harming yourself.” He whispered, looking everywhere in your face. Tears in his eyes started to make their way down and you let his words sink into you. “I don’t like seeing you in pain, it hurts me to see you like this. I know you have your reasons and I won’t judge them, but please, stop this.” He said and looked directly in your (y/e/c) eyes.

“I love you, have been for a while, and I want you to know I’ll be here, Sam’s here too, you’re not alone in this anymore. There are a lot more ways to lash out your pain, just not to yourself, please, (y/n).” He almost pleaded. You closed your eyes, blinking the tears away. You looked at him and nodded. “I promise, Dean.” You whispered.

He softly cupped your cheek and leaned in. You closed your eyes and waited for his lips to touch yours. Another slow second passed and his lips were on your plush ones. He stayed there, not moving. You leaned in a bit and slightly opened your lips. He smiled a small one and opened his mouth as well, kissing you softly but the same time deeply.

He moved his one hand to cup your head and pull you just a little closer to him. You let out a moan as you felt aching in between your legs, and the good one at that. Dean pulled away and looked at you with so much love, you think he just filled the void you didn’t think you had.

You were about to lean in and kiss him when he pulled away slightly. You frowned, afraid you’ve done something. “It’s not that I don’t want to, (y/n), you’re hurt right now.” He said, cupping your face and pecking your lips. “I want you now, Dean.” You silently said. He smiled and pecked your lips. “How about this, sweetheart, come with me in my room and I’ll make you feel good. I don’t want you to sleep here. I’ll change the sheets tomorrow.” He said.

You nodded with a small smile. He pecked your lips again and held your hand then pulled you towards his bedroom, just two doors down yours.

He closed the door behind him and you stood in front of the bed. “I’m all bloody right now, I don’t want to mess up your bed.” You said. He smiled. He reached for your shirt and slightly tugged at the hems. “Can I?” He asked. You nodded. He slowly took your shirt off, making sure not to touch your wound.

He removed your jeans and you were left in your underwear in front of him. He looked at you from head to toe. “You’re way more gorgeous than I imagined.” He breathed and stepped forward to you. You blushed. He kissed you and his lips made their way to your neck. He left wet sloppy kissed and he ran his hand up your thigh, over the few scars there.

He pulled away and looked at you. “I’ll be back, stay here.” He said and rushed outside. A minute later, he came back with a few towels and a small basin full with warm water. He cleaned you up, all the blood that had stuck to your body, your own blood mixed with the demons and the people who died that day.

You watched him worship your body and you felt happy. Loved. Thankful and grateful. When he was done cleaning you up, he brought the blood soaked towels and the basin full of water and blood back to the bathroom and cleaned them. He came back to you and smiled at you, seeing you completely. “I want to see you, Dean.” You said, blushing a bit. He chuckled and nodded.

He pulled his shirt over his head and pulled his jeans down, leaving him in his boxers. He moved his hands to your back and he looked at you when it reached the clasps of your bra. “Can I?” He asked. You blushed and nodded. “Don’t be shy, (y/n), you’re absolutely beautiful.” He said. Your bra was on the floor and he immediately cupped your breasts, earning him a moan.

“Even with my scars?” You asked. “Everything.” He smiled. “Sit and lean on the headboard for me?” He asked and you nodded, climbing on his bed and leaning against the headboard. He crawled in front of you and parted your knees. “This is all about you, (y/n).” He said and you nodded.

He hooked his fingers on your panties and slowly pulled them down your legs. You were about to shut your legs close when he softly held your knees. “It’s okay.” He said, looking at your eyes. You nodded and parted your knees. He crawled in between your legs and kissed you, moaning against your lips as he tasted you.

He pulled away and pecked your forehead. He brought your good arm up and he kissed every scar on your forearm. He did the same to the other but very gently as you had your new cut healing there. He kissed your hands. “I love you, even will all of these scars, but promise me, (y/n), you’ll never cut yourself again, okay, sweetheart?” He asked. You nodded. “I won’t cut again, Dean. I promise.” You smiled.

He smiled and he continued to worship your body, kissing down your stomach. He kissed the scars on your thighs and you shivered as his fingers ghosted over your core.

He propped himself on his stomach and he gently put your legs on his shoulder, hooking his arm on your thighs. He pulled you to him and you felt his hot breath against your clit. You let out a breath and closed your eyes. He left a sloppy kiss on your clit and his tongue slid through your wet folds. He moved his tongue from your entrance to your clit and you moaned out his name.

He looked up at you, watching you tilt your head back in pleasure. Eyes closed shut, mouth slightly agape. He listened to the noises you make, concentrating as he looked for a spot that makes you buck your hips to him.

He sucked your clit into his mouth and you cried out in pleasure. He watched you grip the sheets with your good hand and you moaned out his name like that’s the only thing that you knew, frankly, the only thing that mattered that moment. He moved his tongue to your entrance and he slowly fucked you with his tongue. “Dean!” You gasped and your hand flew to his hair, pulling slightly.

His hand moved to wrap around your thigh further and he placed his fingers on your clit. He began to rub circles that matched the way his tongue slid in and out of you and you arched you back, pushing yourself to him. He groaned at the taste of you and he couldn’t get enough of you. He was clearly getting drunk on you, especially the way you feel and look beneath him.

He felt your walls contract on him and he quickened his pace, making you feel everything. Your senses heightened with his worshiping tongue and you couldn’t think coherently, clearly getting high on him and only him.

The moment existed with only the two of you present. The love he felt for you was enough to make you whole again, to bring life back to you.

“Look at me, (y/n).” He said against you. You forced your eyes open and you looked at him. He watched you intently and with another thrust of his tongue and his fingers on you, you came hard around him, screaming his name.

He watched you come apart and he swore that was the best sight ever.

He lapped up all you had to offer and then he kissed his way up to you, lingering in every stop. “Jesus, (y/n), you’re so delicious, I love the way you taste, so sweet. I love you, (y/n).”  He said when he was directly hovering you.

He leaned down and kissed you long and passionate. “I love you too, Dean.” You admitted to yourself for the first time. “I know I do.” You whispered. The smile he gave you reached his eyes, showing you the small lines beside them and that made you extremely happy.

He made you happy, he’s the reason you stop etching lines on yourself.