In A World We Can Call Our Own

Anything for You - Heartbreak (Dean x Reader)

“I slept with Lindsey,” he said, eyes locked in yours, voice void of emotion. “Happy now?”

“‘Happy now?’” you scoffed. “Are you serious? At least try to pretend you’re sorry.”

“Well, I am sorry. But I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

Your hands trembled as they balled into fists. You looked up, blinking away your tears. You wouldn’t cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve a single tear from you. You could cry once he’d left your house. Not now.

“Why?” your voice wavered. “Just tell me, why would you sleep with her and waste our relationship over one night?”

“I was drunk.”

“Cut the bullshit,” you snarled. “You were drunk, not unconscious. You knew what you were doing. It’s not like you thought she was me, ‘cause we certainly don’t look alike. Not ever our skin color is the same. Let alone our personalities. And it’s not like you tripped and fell naked into her bed.”

“I was drunk, and it clouded my better judgment.”

“Did it happen before?”

“No.”

“Was she the only one?”

“Yes.”

“God, you’re so stupid,” you scoffed with a shook of your head. “We’ve been together for four years. Four fucking years. You decided to waste all that in one night. You took our plans, our promises, our future and threw all of it in the trash.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Fuck you.” A snarl left your lips.

“I know I screwed up. You deserved a whole lot better than that. But couldn’t you see we were burning out?”

You glowered, eyes snapping at him. “Don’t you dare try to find any excuse for your mistake.”

“I hope one day you can forgive me.”

His eyes cast down, face ridden with shame.

“Do you regret it?” your voice trembled.

Alex remained silent. He wouldn’t meet your gaze. He didn’t move. He only took shallow breaths, chest barely rising and falling.

“Do you regret it?” You already knew the answer to your question. Yet the masochist in you had to hear him say it. You needed him to voice it, or else you would forgive him too easily.

“No.” His voice was as loud as a whisper.

“You’re gonna regret it eventually,” you said matter of factly. “Maybe not today, not tomorrow. Maybe not even next week. But you are going to regret it. One day you're gonna wake up and realize the one person who was loyal to you and loved you with their whole being is gone. Then you’re gonna be miserable. That’s when you regret it. When you realize how pathetic and heartless you are.”

He stood there silent. There wasn’t much he could say. He didn’t want to prolong this relationship. It was pointless to try and justify his actions or beg for forgiveness.

Pointing towards the door of your bedroom, you said through gritted teeth. “Get out of my house.”

Alex didn’t fight. He strode out of your room and down the stairs with nothing but a frustrated sigh and zingering eyes. The front door slammed shut. A thud echoed within the walls.

Your knees trembled before giving out and hitting the floor. A sharp pain coursed through your chest. You gasped, breaths shallow and rapid.

“Oh, my god.”

Tugging at the fabric of your shirt over your heart, you allowed a burning tear to fall. It hurt everywhere. Small needles pierced through your chest so deep. You could barely breathe as more tears rolled. Alex had plunged a keen knife into your aching heart and twisted as he watched it bleed.

Tears burned down your cheeks as your heart twitched and clamped within your ribcage. You sobbed, one hand latched on your chest and the other on your stomach. All you could see was the look on his face every time you closed your eyes. Not an ounce of remorse.

But couldn’t you see we were burning out?

His words echoed in your head and splintered your heart. The ache was almost unbearable.

The loud purr of the Impala sounded through the open window of your bedroom before getting cut. Dean was home.

You didn’t want him seeing you like this. Your hand came up to cup your mouth and muffle your sobs. You stared at the open door, trying to get your legs to stand so you could shut it.

“I’m home, and I brought ice cream,” Dean announced, followed by the thud of the front door shutting.

Your mouth opened, but no word came out. You prayed Dean, your roommate and best friend, would go straight to his room. But that wasn’t likely. He’d probably seen your car parked in the driveway, and he was going to check on you.

“Y/N/N? You home?”

More tears were shed. Logger boots sounded heavy on the stairs. Bowing and shaking your head, you closed your eyes tight. Opening them, you found Dean standing on the threshold. He heaved a deep sigh. The edge of his eyes softened as his lips pursed. He knew this moment would come eventually. He only hoped you wouldn’t be the one getting hurt.

You opened your mouth several times, but no sound came out, your throat sore, the ache too much to handle. Dean walked into the room. Green eyes fixated on you, he held out his hand. You shook your head, teeth scraping your bottom lip.

“I can’t,” you said, voice hoarse.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “Take my hand.”

Hesitant, you took it, and he helped you to stand. Dean tucked his arm under your legs, and the other supported your back as he held you to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing. He sat on your bed, back rested on the headboard, with you on his lap.

“I’m sorry.” He kissed your temple, his fingers running up and down your arm. “He’s an ass.”

You shook your head. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not, sweetheart.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“I don’t. But I do know it’s not your fault.”

Dean leaned to meet your eyes, but you nuzzled into his chest, hiding from his gaze.

“Tell me what happened.”

“He cheated.”

His heart quickened, thudding against your ear. Dean drew a deep breath as his jaw ticked, nostrils flaring.

“Son of a bitch.”

“It’s not his fault. I-I let him.”

“No, sweetheart. It’s not your fault. It’s his.”

“He asked me to come to his friend’s party, and I said I had to study. If I’d been there, he wouldn’t have slept with Lindsey.”

“No, baby. He would’ve waited for you to go home or get distracted, only then he would leave to get his dick wet. He was going to cheat whether you were there or not.”

“Dean-“ you sobbed. The fabric of his shirt was wet with tears and snot.

“You did nothing wrong.” He lifted your chin; bloodshot eyes met forest greens. “He didn’t deserve you or your heart. And I know that doesn’t make it hurt any less, but try to get that through that pretty head of yours.”

You gave him a single nod.

God, how Dean wished you’d look at him differently. He could give you the love you deserve. He could make you the most adored woman to ever walk on earth. All he needed was for you to give him a chance. He could try and heal all the damage that was left. He would kiss your tears away and hold you until your heart was glued back together. He just needed you to say the word.

For now, he was going to hold you and pick all the shattered, tiny pieces of your heart. Once the tears had dried, he was going to help you place them together.

“He had my whole heart, and he broke it either way,” you sniffled.

“I promise you I’m gonna help you put it together after I go kick his ass.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

“You wanna know what’s the worst part?” Your voice was strangled. It hurt your throat to speak. Dean hummed, his hold on you tightening. “He wasn’t mad at what he did. He was mad because I found out.”

“He’s gonna get what he deserves, sweetheart,” Dean promised. “And remember, Alex was never worthy of you nor an ounce of your love. You’re better off without him.”

Nuzzling into his chest, you focused on his scent and his words. Dean was the best friend you could’ve ever asked for.

“No, please,” you protested, grabbing his wrist when he placed you on the bed by his side and attempted to stand up. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m gonna get us the ice cream I bought, I’ll be right back. Why don’t you turn on the tv? We could watch Modern Family. That episode we love. The one they sing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’.”

Your face lightened up slightly, eyes shining and this time it wasn’t because of new tears breeding.  

“Lake Life!”

“That’s the one.” Dean smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

You watched as he started to walk out of your room to head to the kitchen. When he reached the door, you called.

“Dean?”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

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Dean was glad Y/N asked them to celebrate Christmas this year. They rarely did it before and this time it gave him a push to play matchmaker again. He hoped it would finally work. Trying to match Sam and Y/N was exhausting. It was a wonder to him how two of the smartest people he knew could be so oblivious. To say it pissed Dean off was an understatement.

Sam and Y/N had been shamelessly flirting for years now. Had they acted on it once? No. Whenever Dean tried to push Sam towards Y/N, she would somehow get farther away. Dean had to endure giggles, stammering, short-circuited brains, and Sam’s blushed cheeks. Everything would be so much easier if they were together already.

Dean took matters into his hands. He was going to get Sam and Y/N under the mistletoe this year. Even if he had to lock the two idiots in a cubicle and only let them out once they had kissed.

“What are you doing?” Sam frowned, head tilted to the right, as he found his brother on a stepladder. His tongue peeked between his lips, his eyes narrowing at whatever he was hanging on the ceiling.

“Nothing.” Dean shrugged, nonchalant.

The oldest Winchester patted his jeans and climbed off the stepladder. He looked up and smiled, satisfied with his work.

“Mistletoe? Really?” Sam grimaced. “Why?”

“Because we’re feeling Christmassy this year.”

“You—” Sam pointed, lips twisting. “—feeling Christmassy?”

“Yeah, of course. Look at the size of the tree Y/N got. If we’re doing Christmas this year, then we’re doing it right. Traditions and all,” Dean said, determined.

“Yeah, but why the mistletoe?”

“For reasons.” He hitched his shoulder. “You never know who might end up under the mistletoe.”

Sam rolled his eyes and headed to the library.

With a smirk, Dean folded the ladder and stuffed it under his armpit. His hands were full as he strode toward the kitchen. He spent most of his morning hanging mistletoes around the bunker while Sam and Y/N went out for their morning run. They jogged together, they spent hours in the library reading and talking nerd. Sometimes, when Dean was in the same room as them, they wouldn’t notice him. They were too lost in their own world and everything else became white noise. They looked at each other like they were in love. But God forbid they kissed. Sometimes Dean wondered if he lived with two teenagers because they clearly didn’t act like adults.

The door to the bunker creaked. Heavy footsteps echoed within concrete walls as Sam and Y/N walked down the stairs.

“Hey,” Y/N panted once she spotted Dean in the war room. His eyes lifted from his laptop.

“You two look disgusting.” His lips twisted as he watched how sweaty his friend and his brother were. Surprisingly, Dean would be happy if the reason they looked like that was that they were having sex. It wasn’t. They had just come back from their morning run.

“Oh, shut up.” She flipped him off, following Sam to the kitchen.

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull. Dean waited and silently prayed they would stand under the mistletoe he had hung not so long ago.

“One Mississippi. Two Mississippi,” he started. “Three Mississippi. Okay, screw this.”

He got up and headed to the kitchen—his footsteps dead silent—stopping at the threshold. He thanked his lucky star for Y/N having her back to him. Sam leaned on the counter and laughed at whatever she was telling him. For a brief second, Sam’s eyes left her face and found his brother. Dean pointed to the ceiling before Sam returned his gaze to Y/N. The younger Winchester looked up with a frown. A mistletoe hung on the ceiling above their heads.  

“What?” Y/N chuckled before following his gaze. “Oh, a mistletoe.”

Sam looked at her, his cheeks flushing slightly. He knew his brother not only planned that but was watching everything.

Her eyes got lost in the sea of his hazel orbs. A small smile tugged at her lips. Y/N leaned on her tiptoes, hands gently reaching for his neck, thumbs brushing his jawline. Sam’s head bowed. His eyes fluttered closed right after hers. Her soft lips met his gingerly. Large hands dropped to her waist and pulled her closer, sending any ounce of reluctance away. He deepened the kiss. Her lips glided over his almost teasingly. Sam breathed her in, relishing in the way she smelled and the way she tasted against his mouth.

Y/N pulled away slowly, placing a light peck on his lips. Blinking her eyes open, she stared up at Sam. He smiled back at her, slightly out of breath.

“Yes!”

Their heads snapped in the direction of the oldest Winchester. Dean stood by the threshold of the kitchen with a smug smile on his lips.

“Finally,” he chuckled, fist-bumping the air.

Y/N let out a laugh, head falling against Sam’s chest. His smile became even brighter at the feeling of her pressed to his body. He didn’t want this moment to end just yet.

“Let me guess—“ she turned to look at Dean. “—the whole mistletoe fest we have around the bunker was your doing.”

Dean smiled proudly, nodding. “Yes.”

“You really went all out, huh? There’s mistletoe hanging everywhere.” She chuckled.

“Hey, I was on a mission, okay?”

Sam and Y/N looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

“Just keep things PG, alright?” Dean asked as he headed back to the war room, mentally patting his back.

Mission accomplished.

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