| Mess | Dean Winchester x Reader

Bloody Teeth And Broken Bones [1]

Y/N - Your Name
Y/LN - Your Last Name
Y/N/N - Your Nickname
Y/H/C - Your Hair Color
Y/H/L - Your Hair Length
Y/E/C - Your Eye Color

You grinned a bloody smile as you leaned forward in your seat, despite being bound to it. A bold chuckle escaped your chapped lips, your voice rasping as the figure in front of you stood twirling a blade. You weren't scared of him, or death, since you faced too much of both. That was part of the job, though, hunting the things that go bump in the night. The things that you wished you hadn't known existed as a kid.

"You done yet, kid?" The figure asked, pressing the blade to your cheek and gripping your head with the other hand. With glossed over Y/E/C eyes, your gaze reached his, the smile still lingering on your usually smooth lips. Your breath trembled as the dry air you were inhaling left a path of destruction to your lungs, which only made you grin even wider. You could feel every cut, bruise, and broken bone he inflicted on your body, proud of the new scars that would soon form. With one final smirk, you finally spoke, leaving him gritting his teeth in anger.

"Not until you've killed me."

  The door to your temporary apartment flew shut as you tossed your duffel bag on the couch and allowed yourself to fall onto the uncomfortably stiff bed you were debating sleeping in. Thinking back to the night before, you shuddered as you remembered how you'd gotten away, replaying the memory in your mind until you were tired of it. When you pushed yourself off the bed, you looked down at your frame. Your usually baggy grey T-shirt was ripped and tattered, your black jeans suffering the same fate. Your favorite leather boots, however, were squeaky clean. You made it a point to keep them safe, since you made a promise to their original owner. You sighed as you ran a blood stained hand through your equally blood stained hair, but you don't rush into the shower as you sludge inside the bathroom. To say that you hated taking a shower was an understatement. It meant you were alone with your thoughts, nothing to count to help calm you down. Normally, isolation wasn't a problem to you, in fact, you practically lived for being alone, but claustrophobia was the embodiment of your absolute nightmare. Only one other thing on this shit stained Earth scared you as much as cramped spaces, but you tried your hardest to repress your memories with him.

"Nothing like the feel of mildly warm water to wake me up." You sighed sarcastically, reluctantly pulling your shirt over your head. "Feels like home."

  You rode your motorcycle in circles, revving your engine loudly to signal your arrival. As a head poked out of the front door, you turned your head to look at it, scrunching your eyebrows together as you realized that it wasn't who you were expecting. In fact, you didn't know them at all. The person shut the door behind them as they jogged down the few porch steps. You parked your motorcycle and felt your back pocket for your knife, then resting your hands on the handlebars as the person neared you.

"Who are you?" You arched an eyebrow at the man in front of you even though you knew he couldn't see it, courtesy of the tinted glass on your helmet that masked your face from view. Flipping the kickstand down to balance your bike, you examined the man with eyebrows raised. He was much taller than you with his hair reaching down to about shoulder length. His features were sharp with his eyes matching his clothes in color; hazel. You had to admit, he was handsome.

"Depends, who are you?" You asked, watching as his eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"What? I can't hear you." He said as he crossed his arms over his chest. You huffed and gently pulled your helmet over your head, shaking your (Y/H/L) and (Y/H/C) hair out before looking back at him. His eyes, slightly wide as he looked you over, making your stomach turn with disgust. This man was bold to check you out while being anywhere near Bobby Singer.