#sam winchester x demon!reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ultravi0lence14 · 19 days ago

Text

DEVIL ON MY SHOULDER

DEAN WINCHESTER X DEMON!READER

WARNINGS: bloody fluff, slight descriptions of gore, spn level violence

SUMMARY: supernatural creatures knew to fear the winchester’s. they were ruthless and didn’t stop for no one. that and their little guard dog who bites anyone that comes too close to dean.

WC: 1.9k

LITTLE MONSTER’S CABINET OF CURIOSITIES

the cool night air whistled against the thick of trees, a dense fog looming over the winchester’s as they wait for the final member of their little team.

it was late at night, a gloomy storm taking over the small town sam and dean currently resided in. vampires were always a messy job, but it almost seemed to go a little more smoothly when you were around.

sam always asks dean how the two of you ended up together, and honestly, the eldest couldn’t answer that question. you were a demon, which the two didn’t have a problem with. they were just a little concerned about your love for bloodshed and mayhem.

they’d first met you and thought you were a little different than other demons. less cocky, more shy and quiet. you stayed to yourself and didn’t really interact much, which dean thought was great, for his love for demons wasn’t really taking up room in his heart.

you didn’t really give much for sam and dean to go off of, until that one werewolf case were you ripped it’s head clean off with your hands. you’d heard the howl and sprinted off into the woods without even saying a word. sam and dean were confused, a little angry, and concerned for your well being. they eventually found you against a tree, your clothes, face, hair, and hands drenched in blood.

they thought something had happened to you, thought they’d find a gnarly scratch on your body before sam noticed the decapitated werewolf a couple feet away. when looking a little closer, he also noticed you’d jammed a silver knife into it’s heart, pulling it clean out and holding the blade limp in your hands with the heart skewered on the end like a shish-kebab.

that moment was when sam and dean realized their new, quiet demon companion was actually a blood thirsty monster killer; and dean didn’t know if he should be proud or terrified.

after that werewolf hunt, you started showing off your strange, tendencies a little more. dean had to stop taking you to the morgue, for you offered to help a coroner conduct an autopsy and almost poked at one of the organs if dean hadn’t pulled you back.

you were also the resident nurse, always stitching up sam and dean when they got injured during hunts. sam always asked you how you were so good at stitches, yet you’d never answer, always shrugging your shoulders and going back to the task at hand. what sam didn’t know is you watched those surgery videos online, eyes wide and interested as you watched someone get cut into.

dean started off by calling you ‘little freak’, on edge around you and worried he’d wake up one day to find you over his bed with a knife. but that worry turned into contempt, and that edge he felt turned into a soft, blinding love.

that little freak he met and saw covered in blood turned into his ‘little monster’, his pretty girl drenched in the blood of their enemies, looking so pretty with the sheen of crimson on her skin.

you two were attached at the hip — well, dean was actually attached to your hip because he couldn’t leave you alone without you going off and doing god knows what. but it wasn’t like you weren’t a little clingy and very protective when it came to dean.

he’s had to hold you back a few more times than he’d like to admit when girls would flirt with him at bars. he’d be at the bar ordering drinks and you’d notice a girl starting to touch his arm, running her fingers down his skin, and you’d absolutely lose it. you almost always had to be held back by dean for you’d pounce and scratch their eyes out if he hadn’t. he’d only allow you to do any damage when it came to the creatures they hunted.

a wendigo took a swipe at dean, you’d be walking out of a cave, carrying it’s head to your lover. a vamp tried to bite him, you’d rip their heart clean out of their chest and hold it proudly. there were multiple times were dean had to tell you to leave things be, for he’d end up coming home to glass boxes full of the innards of supernatural creatures.

though you were still as curious as a cat, and dean would sometimes find you outside the bunker, covered in mud while trying to dig for different insects and little critters.

this hobby was shown on your walls, all the moths and insects you found being displayed in shadow boxes. you tried to hold out a caterpillar to dean once, and he almost keeled over as he saw it wiggle around in your mud caked fingers.

you were a little creepy, always scaring away hunters that came to visit sam and dean. but the eldest didn’t mind, he liked all your little quirks. you were different, a beautiful swirl of a feverish macabre that held a grotesque smile. but you were you, and dean loved you for all your creepy ways.

though right now he was worried. like most demons, you could teleport to wherever your hearts desired; and somehow, you ended up blipping away and out of dean’s sight with no intention of where you could be.

“stop worrying dean, she’ll be fine.” sam reassured for the thousandth time, his back against the impala as he watched his brother pace back and forth.

scoffing, dean stopped in his tracks and raised a solid stare into his brothers soul. “yeah, i know she’ll be fine dumbass. i’m just worried about whoever comes in contact with our own personal patrick bateman.”

“stop worrying,” sam scolded, eyes moving to look at something behind dean’s shoulder. “look, here comes your raven queen now.”

it was like the fog was bending to your will, cascading around you like a sinister halo. crows cawed in the sky as dean watched in awe as your low cut doc martin’s squelched through the damp earth, white socks a little dirty. you had on a pair of black tights and a denim skirt, with a black and white striped shirt that he could see flickers of mud on also. the hood of your black hoodie was pulled over your head, making you look like an angelic grim reaper.

a smile lit dean’s features as you walked over to him, silent as your hand briefly interlocked with his. “hey, little monster.” he greeted, free hand moving up to take off your hood to see your beautifully pale face. “please tell me you didn’t leave any dead bodies where you just came from?”

a small, dark smile graced your lips, sending a fraction of a chill down dean’s spine. “only ones that deserved it.”

dean sighed, about to scold you about going alone on hunts when a snap of teeth was heard close by. the hiss of fangs and blood thirsty growls of vampires could be heard a little ways into the woods, and dean looked over at sam to see his brother had the same look in his eye.

they needed to go. now.

with a nod of his head, dean alerted his brother to start scaling through the forest. yet the youngest wasn’t quick enough for you had already sprinted off into the dark foliage, your frame turning into a fog filled shadow before it disappeared completely.

“god,” dean breathed, running off behind you as sam followed suit. “we really need to teach her to stop doing that.”

it didn’t take long before they found you in another clearing, fighting off six vampires while another three were at your feet. you were already covered in blood, and dean could see the blood streams leaking down your face. and neck.

looking over at his brother, sam just shrugged before jumping into the fight, dean not too far behind. it didn’t take fairly long to have three more vampires down, yet the remaining were pesky little buggers. though that still didn’t deter you, your movements precise as you ducked and clawed at the bloodsuckers around you.

dean was too busy looking at you, his crimson soaked princess, to notice that a vamp had snuck up behind him. in an instant, his neck was in a chokehold, fangs snapping closer and closer to his neck as dean tried his hardest to fight the creature off.

almost about to except defeat, dean felt the vampire go limp behind him, his weight dropping onto his back from a force he couldn’t see. ducking out of the vamps hold, dean turned around to see you standing idly still. a heart was clutched in your hand, blood dripping down your fingers and arm as you held it out in front of you, inspecting the dormant organ.

you were truly ethereal, a god given to him from the deepest pits in hell. you were doused in blood from head to toe, a killer queen at it’s finest. you were a reckoning, a rabid beast that no one but dean could tame.

you were his living dead girl.

you would spill countless litres of blood for him, go to the ends of the earth slaughtering anything that came in his path. dean would watch you come into the bunker everyday with mud or blood caked on your body if it meant he got to see your pretty face.

“can i keep it?”

“no, pretty girl, you can’t keep it.” dean sighed, walking over to your looming frame as he pushed your arm down from the crook of your elbow. “leave it here, we can’t take that home with us.”

“why not?” you pouted, blood pooling around your lips and chin at the movement. the only portion of your face not covered in vamp blood was your eyes and small splotches on your face, yet dean couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“because, little monster,” he spoke softly, one hand holding onto your bicep while the other lifted to wipe at the blood on your lip. “there’s too many things in your room. and, that’s a little gross, don’t ya think?”

his thumb was prodding at your jutted out lip, blood soaking his fingers as he wiped away the crimson water.

“no, it’s not.” you shook your head, only the tips of your hair moving, for the top near your scalp was soaked down with blood. “i find it fascinating.”

“and i find you fascinating.” dean breathed, leaning in to smash his lips on yours in a bloody kiss. you tasted slightly metallic, yet your sweet sent of black dahlia’s and cloves broke through onto his tongue. dean heard a thud behind him as you dropped the heart on the ground, blood soaked hands wrapping around his neck and clutching the hair at the back of his neck. the strands were getting painted in blood, yet dean didn’t seem to mind.

you weren’t one of those girls made to walk through wildflowers and daisies; no. you were made to walk through cemeteries, black roses and ivey crawling up your legs as you made your way through the dead and decaying land. you were a creature of hell. a muddy, bloody, and beautiful sight to dean winchester.

the only small thing you needed to work on was your impulse control.

TAGS: @starzify @floralscented @deansbeer @haunteres @foolinthera1n @bluemerakis @figthoughts @taurus-0-queenie-33 @vaiieydoii

NAT BABBLES: me & @titsout4jackles created this feral little monster!! we love her down so bad and have too many creepy and crazy idea’s to go with her!!!

#supernatural #dean winchester x demon!reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #imagine #supernatural x reader #ultravi0lence14 #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader

337 notes · View notes

hanaridulsetcheese · 3 months ago

Text

the boy at the library ~ sam winchester

In a small town somewhere in America, you were at the local library completing your weekly shift. Sam Winchester was busy trying to do research on a case he and his brother were trying to crack but when he couldn't find a book he was looking for he decided to ask for help.

"Excuse me," he said awkwardly, towering over you. "Do you know where I can find a book on demonology? It's for research purposes." he awkwardly smiles.

You looked at the tall boy standing at the front of the desk, he seemed to be about your age, maybe a year or two older. Usually, you were not one to find attraction to people immediately but this boy was entirely captivating.

His brown hair was slightly tousled and his shirt was untucked and messy. He had such a cute college boy look to him but his eyes told a different story, his eyes looked as if he had seen through the life of ten men at once.

"Yes, it's in this aisle, what's the book name I'll help you look? " you walk out to him and lead him down the array of aisles.

Sam was taken aback for a moment, his heart skipped a few beats as you agreed to help. He was used to having people be instantly intimidated by his tall built physique and cold demeanour and yet, you seemed different.

"Great," he said, clearing his throat and trying to remain cool. "The book is called 'Tales of Demonic Encounters.' It was written by a Reverend named Thomas Harries. Ever heard of it?"

"As a matter of fact I have. " you immediately lead him down the stream of books in the aisle and pick out the book he wanted. It was tucked amongst the mass of other religious and mythology series the library had in stock.

The book you pull out was on a higher shelf but you were still able to reach it. It was a thick leather bound book with a collection of dust on it. Sam stands directly behind you and places a large hand atop of yours to help you remove the book. A slight blush flushes a little across your cheeks at the contact.

Sam tries his best to stay calm as you retrieve the book. Your scent fills his nostrils, a mixture of sweet roses and something distinctly endearing.

He feels your hand beneath his, smaller and more delicate than his own. His heart races as his fingers brush against your skin, the contact sending a spark through his entire body. He releases your hand before taking the book from you, your fingers lingering on each other for a few more seconds than necessary.

"Thanks," he says, looking at the book in his hands before looking back to you. "You're a lifesaver."

"Say, what's a boy like you doing studying about demons? " you lean against the shelves and cross your arms against your chest.

You eye Sam up and down and notice a slight pink tinge on his cheeks similar to that of yours. "You seem like a more law type of guy- " you raise an eyebrow waiting for his name.

Sam feels a wave of nervousness wash over him as you ask the question. He knew he couldn't give you a straightforward answer, not without raising suspicion. He had to think fast. "Oh, you know," he says, forcing a convincing smile. "Just a hobby of mine. I'm interested in mythology and such. “

He glances down at your crossed arms, his eyes lingering on your figure for a moment before he looks back at your face. "The name's Sam Winchester. " he says, his voice a little quieter now.

"Sam, cute. " you stick a hand out at him, "Y/N. " you say, giving him a small smile. Sam takes your hand in his own, his grip firm but gentle.

"Y/N. " he repeats, savouring the way your name rolls off of his tongue. "That's a beautiful name. Suits you. " he lingers for a moment, not wanting to let go of your hand just yet.

"So, a demon hobby, huh? I dabble a little in mythology as well. " you shrugged, peeking at the stack of notes he had in his hand.

Sam notices you glancing at the notes. They were mostly sketches of demonic symbols, and the occasional drawing of a grotesque demon head. He realises that he has to be careful, he couldn't let you see the truth.

"Oh, yeah," he says, casually hiding the notes behind his back. "It's a fascinating subject, you know? Not for everyone, I suppose. But I find it intriguing."

"No, I understand. People think I'm crazy for wanting to major in mythology and dark arts. They look at me like I'm going to do some demonic thing to them. " you laugh slightly, gesturing to yourself, clad in a plain white shirt with a red flannel over it and some jeans. "Do I look demonic, Sam? "

This was said as a joke but you noticed something changed in Sam's demeanour. He tried to remain calm, but your mention of demonic things puts him on edge. He knows that he has to play his cards right.

"Demonic? No, not at all," he responds, forcing a smirk. "Quite the opposite, actually. You look kind and friendly." He glances down at your outfit, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Besides, I think you'd make a terrible demon," he adds, his tone lighthearted.

"A terrible demon? Why'd you reckon? " you place your hands into your back pocket and look into his eyes. They were this pretty blue colour that you couldn't help but get sucked into. You notice him also observing you in the same way.

"Well," Sam says, his gaze still fixed on yours. "Demons are cunning and manipulative. They prey on people's weaknesses and desires. But you seem different. More authentic, and honest." he takes a step closer to you, his tall frame towering over you. "It's refreshing, in a way. Almost, entangling... alluring."

"Oh. " you trail of feeling a little spark of excitement in your stomach as he steps closer. His smell wafts through your nose, very cinnamon centred with a hint of oak. He towered over you, your face barely peeking over his shoulder.

Sam notices how much smaller you were than him. It was endearing, in a way. It made him feel protective, wanting to keep you safe. He leaned down closer to you, almost unconsciously. The air between you grew heavy with tension.

"Honesty is important," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I think demons can be a tad dishonest every now and then."

"You seem to speak from personal experience? " you tilt your head, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Sam freezes, realising that he said too much. He mentally scolds himself, cursing his slip-up. He steps back, creating a small distance between you. He tries to keep his face neutral as he laughs it off.

"No, not really," he said quickly, forcing a smile. "I just have a lot of experience talking to people, that's all." He glances down at the book he borrowed, then back up at you.

"Oh I understand Sam. " you peek out of the aisle to make sure no one saw you two.

"Sit. " you take a seat on the floor and gesture to Sam to sit beside you. He complies, the space just barely enough for his long legs. Sam feels a mixture of nerves and curiosity as he sits down next to you, his knee barely brushing against your leg, sending a small shiver down his spine.

Taking the book from his hands and laying it between you so you both could see, "What are you looking for in here? "

He glances down at the book and ponders your question. He couldn't tell you the truth, not about demons anyway. He had to come up with something plausible. "Just doing research," he says eventually. "Studying up on some demonic lore, nothing too fascinating."

"Come one Sammy, give me more than that. Maybe I can help. I do study these types of things. " you lightly bump his shoulder, giving him a smile.

He looks at you, seeing the genuine offer to help. He knew he should keep you at arm's length, keep you safe. But he couldn't resist your smile, your kind eyes. "Okay, fine," he relents. "Honestly, I'm trying to find out more about demons and what they're capable of."

"Any specific type you're looking for? From my knowledge of the type of mythology I study there can be different types. " you continue to explain your studies to him. There was a warm feeling in you as you noticed him listening intently to you, his eyes never leaving your face. You were passionate about the subject, and your excitement about it was contagious.

He felt his heart beat faster as you spoke, hanging on to every word. It was endearing to see you so animated and knowledgeable. "Different types of demons? I never realised," he said, despite already knowing what you're saying. "I thought they were all the same, just evil creatures of the night."

"Well they are, but you see they all have different purposes. Some make deals with humans, you know selling your soul and stuff - "

Sam's eyes widen as you mention demons making deals, a sudden jolt of adrenaline shooting through him. He tries to keep his composure, praying that his reaction didn't give anything away.

"Deals?" he asks, as casually as possible. "Like, making deals for people's souls? That kind of thing?"

"There's this myth that if you sell your soul to a crossroads demon, they kill you off after ten years. " you whisper.

Sam's heart races at the mention of crossroads demons. He knew all too well the truth about them. "Crossroads demons," he says, his voice low. "They're tricky bastards, that's for sure. Do you believe that? The ten year deal, I mean."

"Well, it's a myth right? " you laugh but then notice the serious look on Sam's face. "Can I be honest with you Sam? "

Sam glances down at you, his face serious but also curious. He doesn't know what to expect from the question, but nods at you to continue. "What is it? "

"I do believe that there's something out there, like the supernatural. Ever since I was a kid I felt like that. I thought by studying about it in university, it would help me understand. "

Sam looks at you in disbelief, not knowing what to make of your confession. He had never met someone so open about this kind of thing. To be so willing to believe in the supernatural without much evidence was...refreshing.

He leaned in closer as you spoke, hanging on your every word. "You've always felt that way?" he asks. "Since you were a kid? You've never wondered if perhaps it's just your imagination?"

"I think it was maybe just my imagination but hey, it's still interesting to learn about I guess. "

Sam smiled at your response, finding your unwavering belief in the unknown fascinating. Your willingness to explore this world of shadows and demons without fear was admirable.

"Interesting is one word for it," he says, his tone slightly humorous. "Most people run for the hills at the mention of anything supernatural."

"True. " you agree, laying your head against the book shelf behind. "What got you interested? "

Sam leans into the shelf as well, his body just barely touching yours. He tries to keep a level head, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

He thinks for a moment, before replying. "Let's just say interest runs in the family. " he says. "There's so much out there in the shadows that people don't understand. It's like a mystery waiting to be unravelled."

"A mystery waiting to be unravelled. " you are unaware of the reality of his words. Sam chuckles as he watches you ponder.

"What's funny? " you lift your head to look at him only to find him smiling at you.

Sam shakes his head, his smile growing wider. "It's nothing, just a thought," he replies, his eyes never leaving yours. He can't help but stare at you, admiring the innocence in your gaze. It was refreshing to see someone so curious and open-minded, someone who wasn't aware of the dark secret he carried.

"Share your thoughts with the class, Sam. " you place your hand on his.

Sam's heart skids in his chest as you place your hand on his. The feeling of your skin against his sends electricity coursing through his body. "Well - " he starts, his voice slightly more strained than usual. "It's just that I find it amusing that you're so interested in the supernatural, and yet you have no idea how close to the truth you actually are."

"The truth? What? Some demon is coming to get me? " you joke.

Sam lets out a strained laugh, shaking his head. "No, no," he says. "Just...you've got a good eye. You're looking in the right places. You never know what you might find."

The irony is not lost on him. Here he was, a professional demon hunter, sitting with a girl who was oblivious to the monsters that lurk in the shadows.

"And why would I want to find it? Look I may be interested in these things but hey if a demon showed up on my doorstep I'd shit myself. "

Sam laughs heartily at your comment. He imagines your reaction. "Well, I can't blame you there," he says, still chuckling. "Seeing a demon up close and personal is no joke. Most people would have a heart attack on the spot."

You noticed the honesty in his words and began to wonder, "Yeah, it must be scary. "

Sam nods at your response, his expression becoming a little more serious. "Yeah, it is," he says, his voice quieter now. "Demons are vicious creatures, dangerous and unpredictable. They'll stop at nothing to...well, let's just say they're not here to be your friend."

"Sam are you alright? " You turn fully towards him and take a hold of his hand. There is a tired look in his eyes that grows more prominent now in the dull light of the library.

Sam's hand instinctively holds onto yours, his grip firm but gentle. He looks down at your intertwined hands, letting out a soft sigh. "I'm just tired," he confesses, his voice weary. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in ages. It's like I can't escape..."

He catches himself, realising he's said too much. He quickly tries to put on a smile, trying to hide his exhaustion.

You couldn't help but caress his cheek, feeling slightly bad for the boy in front of you. He seemed like a genuine person who has been through a lot.

"I know how that feels, I have ADHD and sometimes it doesn't let me sleep at night. " you say, trying to be vulnerable towards him to show him that you were genuine.

Sam leans into your touch, the feeling of your hand against his cheek soothing. He glances at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and comfort.

"You have ADHD? I never would've guessed." he smiles at your attempt to relate to him, appreciating the gesture more than you could know.

"Was it all the fidgeting or the non-stop talking? " you laugh a little and so does he, a dimple popped out on his cheek that makes you look at him fondly.

"Maybe a combination of both," he says. "You're surprisingly bouncy and talkative. It's cute."

"Thanks. " you shrugged, "Most think I'm annoying. "

Sam looks at you, a look of disbelief on his face. "Annoying? Those people must be idiots." He shakes his head, still smiling at you. "You're not annoying. Far from it."

"You're nice Sam. " you brush your hands through his hair before your eyes land on the clock on the wall. "I've got to get back to my shift. "

Sam helps you gather up the notes he had borrowed, feeling a pang of disappointment as you prepare to leave. "Okay, yeah, of course," he says, still a little reluctant to see you go.

He gazes down at you, his eyes lingering for a moment. "Before you go," he says suddenly, a flicker of courage sparking inside of him. "Can I ask you something?"

"What is it? "

Sam's heart thumps loudly in his chest, his mind suddenly racing. He knew he was taking a risk here, but he had to ask.

"I was wondering if I could have your number," he says, his voice slightly shaky. "Just in case I need some more myth and lore advice sometime."

"Oh, yeah sure. " you smiled and pulled out a pen from a stack of the notes he had and wrote down your number on the top page of the stack before noticing a symbol he had scribbled down on it.

"I know this symbol. " you gently pull out the page and examine it closely. Sam looks surprised at the fact that you had recognised it.

"You know that symbol? " he asks, his tone a mixture of disbelief and caution.

"Hades. " you say, nodding your head. "Ancient Greek, I'm talking like really ancient. This was used as a summoning tool to get one of Hades' men to show up. People who had the means to call upon him used this to get a one way ticket to the underworld, kinda like skipping the whole dead line and passing all those judgement people. "

"That's what this is? A summoning tool? " he glanced back down at the paper. "How did you get that so fast? "

"I study this Sam, kind of my speciality. " you say.

Eyes widen as you easily identify each symbol, one after the other. Sam can't help but feel a pang of worry mixed with fascination. Were you simply a mythology enthusiast, or was there something more to your vast knowledge?

"Okay, so all these symbols have something to do with summoning one one Hades’ men, Thanatos, but there's a piece missing. "

Sam's mind races as he takes in your words. He swallows hard, trying to keep his cool. "What piece is missing? " he inquires, keeping his voice steady.

"I'm assuming that's what you're looking for? The missing piece? You're not going to find it in this book then. " you say.

"Not in this book, why's that? “ he asks.

"This book is filled with Christian lore. You're not going to find anything here. You need ancient Greek lore. "

He sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Damn," he mutters. "Ancient Greek lore, huh? Any idea where I might find something like that? “

"Follow me mister, I do still work here after all. " you walk past the book aisles to the other side of the library where the ancient Greek and Roman books were situated. "Here they are. "

Sam’s mind was still racing from your earlier revelation. He takes in the unfamiliar titles surrounding him as you stop in front of a shelf filled with ancient Greek and Roman texts.

"I hope you can read ancient Greek. " you laugh. "I'll leave you to it though, my supervisor will kick my ass if she doesn't find me at the front desk. Let me know when you're done though. "

Sam chuckles at your joke and gives a nod as you prepare to leave. He watches you go, appreciating the help you've given him so far. "Hey, wait," he calls out suddenly, a thought crossing his mind.

You stop in your tracks and turn back to him, "Yes? "

Sam hesitates for a moment, wondering if he should ask his question. But then he decides to just go for it. "Since you're so knowledgeable about all this lore, can I ask you one more thing? " he inquires, his eyes searching yours for a response.

"Fire away. "

Sam chews on his lower lip as he considers how to phrase his question. He didn't want to sound crazy, but he had to ask. "Alright," he begins, his voice slightly shaky. "Hypothetically, if someone were to want to call upon Thanatos, how would they do it? “

"Summon Thanatos, seriously? " you wanted to laugh but then noticed the serious expression on Sam’s face. You cleared your throat and grabbed the pile of notes from his hand and assembled them onto the table.

It all formed pieces of a really weird puzzle and only the first piece was missing. "There you go, until you find the missing piece you can't do anything though. Whatever you have to do, it needs to be done in this order. "

Sam watched intently as you arranged the notes into a makeshift puzzle. He was impressed with your ability to piece together seemingly unrelated information, forming a clearer picture. He reaches out to the table, his fingers brushing across the notes. "And if I find the missing piece? " he asks, a hint of anxiousness in his voice.

"You call upon Thanatos, I presume. " you confirm. "That's what these symbols are. All demons are trapped in hell which is the underworld for the ancient Greeks. Get the right piece and I guess it's like opening a door for them. "

Sam nods slowly, absorbing your words.

"I'm assuming this isn't some kind of project. " you look at Sam with a serious and concerned expression laced on your face.

Sam's eyes meet yours, and he hesitates for a moment. He could feel your concern, and it tugged at him. He knew he shouldn't keep you in the dark, that you deserved an explanation, but before he can form a response, he's interrupted by a ringing sound from his pocket. He pulls out his phone and glances at the screen, his expression hardening.

Sam answers the call and turns away from you, his voice barely above a whisper as he speaks into the phone "What do you have, Dean? "

He listens for a few moments, his free hand running through his hair in a frustrated gesture. He glances over at you momentarily, making sure you weren't listening. After a brief moment Sam gets off the phone, his voice now hasty and laced with worry.

"I need to go," he says abruptly, his tone urgent. "Something's come up."

"Oh alright, well don't forget your stuff. " you help him gather the pages again and watch him stuff it into his bag.

Sam nods in thanks, his mind clearly elsewhere. He slings the bag over his shoulder and turns to look at you. "Sorry to cut this short," he apologises, his voice tinged with regret. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Don't worry about it, whatever that was sounded important. " you smile and watch as he walks away fast from the library. You look out the window and watch him get into a black car with another guy as they drive away in a hurry leaving you to your shift.

~~~

"Find anything? " Dean asks Sam as they speed through the road.

Sam shakes his head, his mind still on the conversation with you. He was frustrated that he didn't have the answer yet. "Not yet," he replies, his voice tight. "But there was this girl at the library, she was surprisingly familiar with the symbols. “

"A girl huh? She's pretty? " Dean smirks at Sam before returning his eyes to the road.

Sam scoffs and rolls his eyes at Dean. Trust him to focus on that aspect.

"She's...interesting," Sam replies, trying to downplay it. "She knew a lot about the symbols, more than most people. “

"You think she's a demon? " Dean asked seriously.

Sam paused for a moment, considering the possibility. While it seemed far-fetched, it wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility. "No," he finally answers, shaking his head. "She seemed normal. Human."

"What'd she give you? Anything useful that would explain all these walking corpses around town? "

Sam reaches into his bag and pulls out the stack of pages filled with scribbled notes and symbols. "She was able to identify these," he says, shuffling through the pile. "And she explained what they were but we're still missing a piece. It’s like a puzzle. "

"Man, I hate puzzles. " Dean complained.

Sam nods in agreement, especially when your life, and other people's lives, depended on them. "Yeah, tell me about it," he mutters, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. "But we have to figure it out. People are dying, Dean. We have to stop it. "

"Yeah I know. She say anything about the missing piece? Where do we find it? “

Sam shakes his head, sighing in frustration. "No, but she did say something about ancient Greek and Roman lore. So we might need to dig through some of Bobby’s old history books."

"Oh yay, love me the Olympics. " Dean rolled his eyes and pulled up to the motel they were staying at. They both rush into the room and shut the doors and windows immediately.

Sam sits down at the small desk, opening the laptop and immediately launching an online search for information on the mythology. He types in keywords related to their case and scans through page after page of search results, hoping to find something useful.

Dean cracks open a beer and begins looking through Bobby's old journals trying to find something useful to them. After about two and a half hours of searching they came up with nothing. "Damn it man. You're saying this library chick knew this stuff immediately? "

Sam shuts the laptop in frustration, rubbing a hand over his tired face. They had been at it for hours and still had nothing. "Yeah," he confirms. "She seemed to recognize the symbols right away, and knew what they were used for. It's like none of this was a surprise to her. "

"Sounds fishy man, are you sure she was human? " Dean takes a swig of his second beer.

Sam sighs and shrugs, his mind still lingering on your knowledge of the symbols. It was impressive, but it did raise a few questions. "I don't know," he admits, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"You said she studied these things? Like as a degree? "

Sam nods, recalling what you had told him at the library. "Yeah, she said she was interested in these things, and she had studied them extensively. "

"Look, I know you're developing some sort of attachment to this girl but we might need her help, Sammy. " Dean looks at his brother, Sam's face was conflicted. He too didn't want to drag an innocent girl into this.

Sam frowns,he knew Dean was right, but the thought of putting you in danger didn't sit well with him. "I don't want to put anyone in harm's way," he argues, his voice a mix of concern and determination. "But you're right. We need her help, she's the only lead we have right now."

Sam hesitates for a moment, but he finally pulls out his phone and dials your number and waits anxiously for you to pick up.

You were about to close up the library when your phone rang all of a sudden. Fishing it out of the bag you answered the call, waiting for the caller to speak first.

As the call connects, Sam takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. "Hello?" he says into the phone, his tone laced with urgency.

"Hi, who is this? " you ask.

"It's Sam Winchester," he replies, his voice serious. "The guy from the library earlier today. Look, I need to talk to you about something important."

"Oh hi Sam, what can I do for you? " you asked, locking up the library and heading to the car.

Sam takes note of the sound of keys in the background. "Are you still at the library?" he asks.

"Almost about to leave, why? Did you forget something here? " you asked, now in the car tossing your bag in the backseat. There was a slight ringing in your head followed by a sharp pain. You reached back to your bag and brought out your painkillers.

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Sam reassures you. "But there's something I need to talk to you about in person. It's pretty important. Can we meet? "

"Yeah sure, how far are you from the library? " you manage to say after swallowing the pills.

Sam looks out the motel window, his gaze fixed on the street outside. "Not too far. We're staying at the Starlight motel. Room 4B. Can you come over here?"

"Oh, alright. Who's 'we' by the way? " you ask, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot.

Sam grimaces, realising that he hadn't really explained the situation fully to you yet. "Oh uh...my brother Dean's here with me," he admits, his voice slightly apologetic.

"Oh I see. I'll be on my way shortly Sam. " you say goodbye and make your way to the motel a little weary of why Sam sounded so urgent. For the sake of protection, you pulled pepper spray from the bag and walked up to the motel room, knocking on the door.

Sam and Dean hear the knock at the door, and Sam jumps up to answer it. He glances through the peephole and sees you standing outside. He opens the door and immediately his eyes widen at the sight of your pepper spray. "Whoa, easy there," he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Sorry, momma taught me to be safe. " you laugh and enter the room, pepper spray still in hand. There was another guy there you assumed to be Sam’s older brother. He was a little older than Sam, slightly shorter with green eyes.

Dean watches you as you enter the room, his expression a mix of curiosity and scepticism. He takes note of the pepper spray in your hand, silently assessing if you were a threat. But when you mention your mother, he barks a laugh. "Smart woman," he comments with a smirk. "Never hurts to be prepared. “

"I'm Y/N. " you extend your hand to the guy and he shakes it, telling you his name. You then turn to Sam, "What is it that you called me for? "

Sam motions for you to take a seat on the bed. He sits down next to you, while Dean stands by the window with his arms crossed. "Alright, this is going to sound a little strange," Sam begins, looking at you intently. "But there's something we need to ask you about. “

"Alright then, ask away. "

Sam glances at Dean, silently asking if he should reveal the truth fully. Dean just shrugs nonchalantly. Sam takes a deep breath and turns back to you. "Have you ever heard of demons before?" he asks, his voice measured and serious.

"Demons? " you laugh, looking back and forth between the brothers, "Like the ones in myths we were talking about today? "

Sam and Dean exchange a glance, amused by your scepticism. "No, not myths," Sam answers bluntly. "We mean real, authentic demons. Straight out of Hell."

"What? "

Dean leans against the wall, a cocky smirk on his face. "You think we're pulling your leg, don’t you?" he says, looking at your doubtful expression.

"We'll yeah, just little. " you eye Dean up and down.

"Look. demons are real and we need a way to stop them. " Dean blurts out, Sam gives Dean a warning glare. He had wanted to ease you into this revelation, not just dump it all on you at once.

"What he means is that we're hunters," Sam explains, his gaze fixed on you intently. "Hunters of supernatural creatures, like demons, monsters, and witches."

"Hunters? " you tilt your head, taking in the information.

Sam nods, his expression serious. "Yeah," he confirms. "We track and kill things that go bump in the night. We've been doing it our whole lives."

"Wait, this may sound crazy but do you know Bobby Singer? " you ask.

Dean immediately averts his gaze from you to Sam. "You know Bobby? " Dean stares at me.

Sam pauses, a little taken aback by your question. He glances at Dean, who looks equally surprised. "Yeah," he answers slowly, his curiosity piqued. "We know Bobby. How do you know him?"

"Bobby is my uncle. Well my dad's family friend, I used to see him a lot when I was little. He used to tell me stories all the time about how he was a hunter and he used to kill monsters like what you’re saying now. Of course he was a drunk so nothing he said was real but it still made me interested in mythology. "

Dean looks at you quizzically, his mind racing with questions. "Why hasn't Bobby ever mentioned you? " he asks, his voice laced with suspicion.

"He and my dad had this fight when I was twelve, never saw him since. "

Sam's eyebrows furrowed, "What happened between them? If you don't mind me asking. " he asks, his tone softer now.

"Something about a hunting trip gone wrong? I think my dad must've messed up and Bobby got angry. They used to go deer hunting often. "

Sam and Dean exchange a knowing glance. They both knew about the disastrous hunting trip Bobby had gone on with John. They had heard it from Bobby many times over the years.

"Must have been one hell of a hunt," Dean mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

"Wait but what does that have to do with demons? My dad hunted deer with Bobby, not monsters or whatever. Those were just stories. "

Sam takes a deep breath, knowing that the explanation was about to get more complicated. "It's a little more than that," he begins. "Bobby was involved in a different type of hunting. Supernatural hunting and now I think that your dad was involved too. "

"You're joking, right? " you look between the brothers confused.

Dean snorts with a sarcastic laugh. "Hell, I wish we were," he says, his expression serious. "But we've been hunting these things all our lives. Demons, ghosts, werewolves, you name it."

You swallowed hard, trying to hide the fear. "So what do you want from me? I'm not some type of demon or anything. "

Sam quickly senses your fear and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "No, no, we know you're not a demon," he reassures you. "We just wanted to ask you about those symbols. "

"Oh. " you eased up a little. "Well those are to summon Thanatos from the underworld like I explained. "

Dean leans forward, intrigued. "How do you know so much about these symbols? "

"Mythology 101 at Harvard. " you say, shrugging as if it were nothing.

Dean raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Harvard, huh? Brains and beauty."

You blush at his words and fail to notice the annoyed look Sam gives his brother. He didn't miss the way Dean was eyeing you up and down.

"So anyway, what do you need me for? I already explained what there was. " you asked.

Sam rubs the back of his neck, slightly hesitating before speaking. "Well, we're trying to figure out how this thing got to earth and why someone would have wanted to summon it."

"And you think that I could help? "

Sam rubs his forehead, the exhaustion from the long day catching up to him. "We don't have anyone else to ask right now," he admits. "You said you know a lot about this, so we thought you might be able to give us some answers. “

You notice the exhaustion on both Sam and Dean's face and nod, agreeing to help them.

"Can you read ancient Greek? " Dean asks, placing one of Bobby’s old journals in front of you.

"Yes I can, a little rusty but I can do it. " you glance at this book and pull out a blank page to scribble down whatever you decipher. "This might take me a while, it's a lot and let's just say the grammar is terrible. “

Dean chuckles at your comment, his impatience showing. "Take all the time you need, sweetheart, we got all night. “

You continue pouring over the text, the brothers leave you at the table and do some research on the laptop. You were all busy for what felt like about three hours.

Sam and Dean had gotten so engrossed in their research that they lost track of time. Sam glances over at you at the small table and notices you diligently working on the ancient text. "How's it going over there? " he calls out.

"I'm almost done. " you say, scribbling the last few words on the page.

"That was quick," Dean comments, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Thanks, I was the top student. " you walk over to them at the coffee table and sit next to Sam, placing the page of translated Greek in the centre.

"Damn, that's some impressive writing skills you got there, sweetheart," Dean smirks.

Sam gives Dean a warning glance, silently telling him to cut it out. "Dean," he says, his tone stern. "Give it a rest, will you? " Dean rolls his eyes and nods.

"Okay so from what was written the missing piece isn't a symbol but more of a chant that you say out loud as you assemble the pieces together. It’s a ritual. “

Sam rubs his chin thoughtfully, taking in your translation. “So if we do this, we summon whatever is bringing those corpses back? Thanatos, you said? “

You nod, confirming his words. "Yeah. it says you have to do it thirty minutes before the full moon rises and guess what moon it is tonight. "

"We have about an hour until we need to do this. " Dean says, looking at the time.

"Damn, you're right," Sam mutters.

You watch as the brothers scramble to get everything ready for the ritual. They pull out weird looking items in jars and bags with different types of smells. "You just casually have these things? "

Dean looks up from loading his shotgun with salt rounds and gives you a smirk. "We travel a lot," he says, his tone nonchalant. "We're always prepared."

Sam gathers the supplies and sets up a circle on the ground, carefully drawing symbols and diagrams around it. As they prepare the final items for the ritual you take a seat on the couch and rub your temples, trying to subside the oncoming headache.

With fifteen minutes to spare before they start you pull Sam to the side while Dean is busy. "Hey, are you okay? " you ask him, noticing the fatigue on his face.

Sam pauses, he can see the concern in your eyes, and appreciates your thoughtfulness. "Yeah, I'm okay," he replies, his voice a bit weary. "Just a little tired, and worried about what we're about to do."

He suddenly takes hold of your hand and intertwines your fingers, surprised by the comfort your touch brings him.

"It must be scary? Having to deal with all of this. "

“It is scary," he admits, his gaze meeting yours. "We've seen and faced things most people wouldn't believe exist. But we don't have a choice. We do this, or innocent people get hurt. Or worse."

"You're heroes. " you smile up at him.

Sam can't help but smile back, a hint of pride in his expression. "Thanks," he says, his voice softer now. "But we don't always feel like heroes. There's a lot of pain and suffering we've seen. Sometimes, we question if we're making any difference at all."

"One less demon on earth, I'd say that's a big difference. " you nod and place a soft kiss on his cheek. "It's almost time, you should join your brother. "

Sam's breath hitches and he savours the moment for a brief second, before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, you're right. "

You watch as they wait for the right moment to begin the ritual. Sam effortlessly says the chant as Dean readies himself for whatever may come with a blade in his hand. You move behind the couch, away from them to be safe and out of the way.

The room suddenly turned cold and the pain in your head grew more intense. Your vision clouds with green mist and as you make out a figure standing in the middle of the symbol that Sam drew.

You blink to clear the mist from your eyes and notice the figure at Dean’s foot, dead. Confusion washes over you and you realise that the whole thing was over.

Finally, Sam looks over at you and gives you a small nod. "It worked," he says, his voice filled with relief and exhaustion as if everything lasted a long time.

You stare as the brothers clean out the mess. Dean drags the figure outside to bury its body before you could get a close look at it.

You were left with Sam alone in the room. "I can't believe that just happened. " you say stunned.

"Yeah, believe me, it’s a lot to take in." Sam agrees.

"Wait until you find out about the angels. " Dean shouts from outside.

Sam chuckles at your astonishment. “Thank you for staying out of the way, it put up a good fight, you would’ve gotten hurt. “

You nod, having no idea what he was talking about.

"You okay? " he asks, genuine concern in his eyes. "You holding up alright? " Sam closes the distance between the two of you. In the dim light of the room, he takes a moment to look at you, his gaze lingering on your face.

"I'm going to be honest Sam, that sacred me but I didn't shit myself so I think I'll be fine. "

Sam throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh at your unexpected response. There’s a hint of relief in his expression as he looks back at you. "I appreciate your honesty," he grins, still chuckling. "Most people wouldn’t be so calm after witnessing a demon exorcism."

"I'm definitely not going to be able to sleep tonight but that's nothing a little alcohol can't fix. "

Sam's expression softens. He can only imagine the shock and adrenaline rushing through your body right now. "You sure you want to go the alcohol route? " he says, a hint of worry in his voice.

"What other route is there Sam? I just saw the supernatural in real life, found out everything my drunk uncle Bobby told me was real. I think I deserve a drink. Heck, you deserve like five for dealing with this all the time. "

Sam lets out a sigh, knowing that you had a point. He can't really blame you for wanting to drown out the traumatic events of the night. “Well I wish I could catch a drink with you but there is still a lot to do. “

"There's more? I thought it was over. "

Sam shakes his head with a weary sigh.

"I wish it was that simple. There's still a lot of work to be done. We have to figure out who summoned this thing in the first place. It wasn't just a random occurrence. Someone wanted that thing on earth, and we need to find out why. "

"I don't suppose you'll be needing my help then. " you smile sadly.

Sam frowns at your assumption. He can't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of you not being involved anymore.

"Well then Sammy, you know where to find me should you find yourself needing any assistanc. " you pulled him in for a kiss.

Sam is taken by surprise at your bold gesture, but he doesn't resist, letting himself be pulled in, his hand coming up to cup your face gently as your lips meet his. For a moment, all the chaos and danger of the world fade away.

"See you around. " you walk out the door leaving Sam staring.

Sam watches you walk out the door, his lips still tingling from the unexpected kiss. "Yeah, see you, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice laced with a hint of wistfulness.

~~~

spotify links -

soft boy dean

the winchesters

profile

295 notes · View notes

chevroletdean · 1 month ago

Text

sibling!reader dealing with demon!dean headcanons (req.) ── ✮⋆˙

Pairing: None, just platonic Winchester!Reader (fem) and her brothers Genre: Angst, fluff To note/warnings: Hurt/comfort, grief (temporary character death, as in Sam and Reader think Dean died), canon level violence A/N: A great way to start the year is definitely getting a cool request by @midnight--raine! Tysm, dear, your praise means a lot to me <3 and I 100% agree, Demon!Dean is terrifying. Still my favorite arc ever, because I’m a sucker for the nitty, gritty, dark and scary, but yes. Credit & links: dividers ──〃★ request here

Sam’s heart breaks twice that day. For one, there is the crushing grief that comes with watching the life disappear from his brother’s eyes. Then the realization: How could he possibly tell his sister what happened? Dean’s death is tearing him apart, and he knows it will absolutely destroy her.

There’s no easy way to deliver the news. But, alas, he’s spending a good amount of time sitting alone in the Impala, Dean’s lifeless body in the backseat. The ride back to the bunker was the hardest ever, the silence nearly driving him insane. Sam is thinking back and forth on what to say, what to do.

He knows waltzing in, carrying the corpse is not an option. If anything, Sam doesn’t want her to see Dean like that at all. Though he figures she’ll probably want to see for herself.

She probably already knows something bad happened the second Sam enters the bunker. Of course she does, her brothers have trained her to stay alert 24/7, to look at her surroundings with a keen eye — Dean would be so proud of her people reading skill right now. Sam’s by himself and his expression… he’s devastated, though he tries to keep it together for her sake. It can only mean one thing.

It feels wrong right away. She can tell. It’s obvious when he doesn’t answer her questions. “Where’s Dean?” Silence. It speaks volumes. “It’s not funny, this is a dumb prank.” Sam still can’t bring himself to speak up.

She runs past him, straight outside to look for Dean, even when Sam tries to stop her.

Sam’s glad he thought of draping a jacket over Dean’s body before talking to his sister. She shouldn’t have to see her brother so lifeless, after all. This view alone, even just through the car window, is enough to traumatize her.

What happened isn’t his fault, but Sam still apologizes over and over again. He can just stand there and feel guilty while he’s holding her shaky form.

It’s not their first rodeo with death and while it doesn’t make it any less sad, her tears convince Sam even more that he has to fix this, somehow.

That night she can’t sleep. Nothing can console her, not even Sam. Though she is grateful to have him at her side.

It’s the same for Sam, honestly. With both of them restless, they dig through the library, they try to find anything to bring Dean back.

In the end, she’ll probably fall asleep right at the desk, her eyes heavy and sore from crying and reading. It’s not a peaceful slumber by all means, it’s more like her brain and body just shut down.

Sam carries her to her room, but the second he tucks her into bed and wants to leave again, she wakes and sobs again.

She’s terrified to spend the night alone, nightmares haunting her. If it were for her, she’d be up and in the library again, but Sam manages to make her agree to a compromise: She will try and get some rest and he will stay with her.

None of them get another wink of sleep that night, she’s staining Sam’s shirt with tears while he’s busy brushing his fingers through her hair.

The next couple of days are rough. The bunker feels like a graveyard, Dean’s presence is definitely missing.

She finds herself wanting to prank her brother like every morning — she’d always exchange his shampoo bottle with the ketchup bottle, shed secretly put a Celine Dion cassette in the Impala. Now, there’s no point for any of that.

Instinctively she grabs onto any piece of Dean she still has. She takes one of his shirts to wear, his scent still lingering in the fabric. She doesn’t touch the piece of pie in the fridge, which she’d usually steal, but she wants to keep it there, preserve it, just in case Dean will magically return.

When Dean’s body disappears, it’s like losing him all over again at first. He’s suddenly gone, again, and panic sets in. And it feels even more permanent. However, it’s also a glimmer of hope, right? He has to be somewhere, so is he alive after all?

Sam’s more reluctant to get his hopes up high. He’s dealt with heavy losses before. Seeing his sister motivated to find Dean is a double-edged sword. It’s the first time since Dean’s death that he sees her eyes sparkle again. But he’s also scared she’ll break down even more when this turns out to be another tragedy.

It’s because of that very reason that Sam’s working on this without telling his sister. He hates keeping secrets from her, he hates lying to her, but he can’t bring himself to feed into her delusions only for her to end up even more hurt. So, when he’s able to track Dean down, he’s not telling anyone.

It bites him in the ass. While Sam’s out trying to find Dean, Dean’s already on the way to find her.

She looks like she’s seen a ghost, honestly. Wide eyes staring at him and filled with tears. Suddenly all her hunting skills are out the window. She doesn’t care to throw holy water at him, she doesn’t think of nicking him with silver. Demons, skinwalkers, none of it exists to her in that moment. All she can think about is her big brother being back.

She jumps right into his arms, scolding him, whining and sniffling and hugging him with a death grip.

Dean’s quiet, eerily so, but that’s not enough to make her suspect anything just yet. Maybe he’s tired, maybe she’s confused, it’s so much all at once. She refuses to let go of him, afraid he’ll slip away again, so she drags him to the kitchen and happily presents the piece of pie to him.

Dean doesn’t even touch it. Hell, he’s not even looking at it.

She quickly texts Sam, letting him know Dean’s back at the bunker. Then, when she looks up from her phone again and sees Dean not eating, she’s starting to get doubtful.

Dean not digging into pie? Is he sick or something? “You okay?”

There’s a grin on Dean’s lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and it feels off. It feels dangerous. “Never felt better.”

The wheels are turning in her head and her blood runs cold. She didn’t do any of the routine checks. Why didn’t she do any of the routine checks? Sam and Dean have taught her better, but she was so caught up in the moment and…

Her phone buzzes and Sam’s reply is simple. ‘That is not Dean.’ Her eyes widen. ‘Demon. Get away.’

The three or four seconds she spent looking at her phone are what almost gets her killed. It’s plenty of time for Dean to grab the kitchen knife and aim it at his sister instead of the pie.

She manages to dodge, somehow, although Dean makes it sound like he just enjoys playing with his prey. As his eyes turn jet-black, she knows she’s in trouble.

“I’ll give you a headstart, sis,” he hums and even his voice sounds so twisted, so wrong.

“Headstart?,” she echoes. “Dean, please, you don’t wanna—”

“Ten… Nine…”

He absolutely wants to. Sam’s right, this isn’t Dean. Not their Dean.

She bolts out of the kitchen as fast as she can. The bunker is big, but the problem remains that they all know it inside and out — where can she possibly hide? Should she lock herself in the dungeon? Should she ditch the place altogether?

“Six… Five…”

Panicked, she just makes a run for it, not knowing where to quite yet, but knowing it had to be away. As far away as possible. She scrambles to find a weapon, anything to fend off a demon, though she hates the thought of fighting against Dean. Not only would she not stand a chance against her brother, she could never bring herself to harming him or his vessel.

“Ready or not here I come.”

She’s definitely not ready. He could’ve given her a minute, an hour, a freakin’ year, nothing could prepare her for such a chase.

Stupidly, she decides to hide in Dean’s room. It’s far from the safest option, but it’s where her feet have carried her. She can’t really think of any room in the bunker that could protect her from the demonic version of her brother, but here at least, she’s surrounded by happy memories, right?

She’s holding her breath, clutching Ruby’s knife in her trembling hand.

It’s only through a trick that she’s able to survive. Of course, Dean finds her, but she’s fast and able to (a) distract him long enough to make preparations and (b) then lure him to the dungeons.

Dean’s not dumb, he knows there’s a devil’s trap. But he didn’t know there were two of them. She’s haphazardly drawn one he didn’t see until he is standing in it.

Bless all the times she has cursed in the past. She has complained to Sam so often whenever he had forced her to practice drawing pentagrams. She’ll make sure to thank him for it later.

Speaking of the devil, Sam returns just a bit later. He must’ve broken several traffic laws racing back to the bunker, but between that and his sister’s safety, she obviously came first.

He thought she’d be pissed at him for lying to her, but she has a priority too right now: Turning Dean into a human again.

It’s definitely not an easy task. More specifically, it’s downright nauseating to witness the purification process. Dean’s clearly suffering, the pain must be agonizing, but they are able to heal him.

Dean’s back, and he’s human again and it’s all she could’ve ever asked for.

Now, for Dean? Shit, he won’t be able to look into the mirror for a very long time. He always sees himself as the family’s protector. His siblings are his world and to think he attacked his baby sister? It’s killing him.

He feels so guilty he’s not able to look her in the eyes, let alone talk to her or touch her.

Which is why when she hugs him, clinging to his form sobbing, he thinks he doesn’t deserve that kind of trust. His greatest fear is that she’s now scared of him. She’d have every right to be, he attacked her with a damn knife.

“It wasn’t you. It was your body, but not your mind. I mean, that thing comes up with all sorts of dumb things, but not that kind of dumb.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that, of course she’s already back to sibling banter. How she manages to pretend like nothing happened is beyond him.

The events stick with him for a very long time, they never fully disappear from his conscience. He wishes he could wipe the memory of your panicked eyes from his brain, but that image will still haunt him in his grave.

Something has changed though. His shampoo is shampoo and his cassettes are his cassettes. There’s always pie in the fridge and she’s not playing any pranks on him anymore.

It makes him feel even worse. Especially when she explains to him that she’d rather be nice to her pain-in-the-ass brother and have him alive than be mean and have him dead.

“You know one thing doesn’t have anything to do with the other, right?”

It almost sounds like she’s blaming herself. As if Dean’s death was her punishment for bickering 24/7. It’s not right, if anyone should be feeling guilty, it’s him. And he does. God, he does.

It’s very obvious that she’s more afraid of losing him again than she is of the monster he’s become.

He’s set out on playing double the amount of pranks on her then, in hopes of getting some normalcy back. Of reminding his little sister that he’s still here, he’ll always be there. He’ll always be her pain-in-the-ass brother that’ll look out for her and keep her safe and play pranks on her.

When one morning he finds his toothbrush in a jar of pickles, bristles soaked in the vinegar-y liquid, it’s a small victory. Her post-it note with a smug smiley drawn on it is a step in the right direction.

Dean Winchester Taglist (Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist): @ladysparkles78 @ariasong11 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

@zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46

@midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda @foxyjwls007 @lyarr24

@whump-loverz @cassieriddle713 @ilovedeanwinchester4

Sam Winchester Taglist (Put a book emoji 📚 in the comments to be added to the Sam x Reader taglist): @s7nburn @whump-loverz

Please note: Ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts!

#dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #demon!dean x reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sibling!reader #sister!reader #supernatural headcanon #spnhc #angst #spn angst #dean angst #sam angst #dean hc #sam hc #chevroletdean writes

191 notes · View notes

marvelfanfn2187a113 · 10 months ago

Text

Useless

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Demon Dean & little sister!reader

Requested by @abiball027

Synopsis: Dean does some things as a demon that everyone regrets.

Warnings: demon blood addiction, demon Dean gets the reader addicted to demon blood, kidnapping, this one’s kinda dark guys, angst with a happy ending.

Your body was on autopilot as it led you through the bunker. You didn’t even realize you were headed to Dean’s room until you stopped in front of his door, unable to go further. Your hand twitched towards the knob, but you stopped yourself from reaching out to grab it.

There was nothing in there you wanted to see. You didn’t want to look at Dean’s body again; you couldn’t.

You staggered in surprise when the door flung open. Dean’s frame filled the doorway, and it was all you could do to stay upright.

“De…what…” you caught sight of Crowley in the room behind him, and you directed your next words at the king of hell. “You—did you bring him back?”

You didn’t want to wait for an answer; in fact, you were a split second away from throwing yourself at your big brother when Crowley stepped between you.

“I wouldn’t do that; he’s still adjusting.”

“Adjusting? Crowley, what did you do?” You demanded, before shaking your head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’ve gotta tell Sam.” You turned to go, but Dean’s hand shot out at an inhuman speed, and he held your arm in a vice grip.

“What—Dean?” You looked up in surprise at your big brother.

“No Sam,” he demanded, but his eyes seemed unfocused. That is, until he blinked and they flashed black. You wrestled your arm from him and stepped back, your hand going to the demon knife at your belt. You pulled it out, directing it at Crowley.

“You…” your voice shook with anger, and you nearly choked on it. “You let one of your filthy demons possess my brother?”

“Not exactly.” Crowley shrugged.

“What—“

Dean interrupted you.

“It’s all me, sweetheart.”

“That’s not possible.” You shook your head. “It can’t be.”

“Oh it’s Dean alright,” Crowley said. “Because of the Mark of Cain, he can’t be killed. I merely brought his soul out of its little…hibernation. Or, chrysalis, I suppose is a better analogy. And now he’s evolved into…well, this.”

Dean and Crowley’s matching grins turned your stomach.

“W-we…” you swallowed, trying to let your mind catch up with your racing heart. “We can fix this. We know how-how to cure demons. I can get Sam and we—“

“No!” Dean’s sudden tone change made you flinch. “I don’t want to be cured, and you’re not going to get Sam.”

“I-I don’t understand.” you shivered.

“No. You wouldn’t.” Dean chuckled darkly. “You wouldn’t understand power.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. You’ve always been the weak one, so you wouldn’t understand what having power feels like.” Dean’s eyes flashed black again, and you flinched. “Well I’ve got power now, and I like how it feels.”

“Stop it.” You shook your head, turning to Crowley. “Dean wouldn’t say this stuff. What did you do to him?” You yelped in surprise when Dean’s hands once again grabbed your arms.

“It’s all me, N/N. The new me. The better me.”

You tried to break free from Dean’s grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Crowley stepped forwards, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“We should get out of here while Moose is still gone.”

“You’re right.” Dean didn’t release his grip on your arm. “But I’m bringing her with.”

“What?” You and Crowley asked in horrified unison.

“Dean, you agreed to leave it all behind. You said you didn’t want—“

“I said I didn’t want Sam stopping me,” Dean interrupted Crowley. “She’s not strong enough to do anything to me.” Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Dean continued. “But, with a little help, she could be useful.”

“Help?” Crowley frowned. “How could she do anything for us?”

“She can…” Dean’s eyes flashed black—it seemed to be his new favorite trick. “If I give her a taste of power.” Dean shoved you towards Crowley. “Hold her still.”

Crowley took hold of your arms without question, although he was clearly hesitant.

Dean took the demon knife out of your hands easily, and he sliced a small cut on the heel of his hand.

“What are you—“

Dean took advantage of your mouth being open by pressing the heel of his hand to your lips. You froze up as Dean’s other hand came up to plug your nose.

He’d completely cut off your air, and you struggled as the metallic taste of Dean’s blood invaded your mouth. He and Crowley easily held you still, and Dean kept his hand there for several seconds before moving it so that his palm was covering your mouth. No more blood was going in, but you still couldn’t breathe.

“Swallow and I’ll let you go,” Dean said. You continued to struggle, but it was useless. “C’mon little sister, just swallow.”

You struggled until you felt dizzy and your lungs were screaming. You swallowed almost without meaning to, the bitter taste of Dean’s blood invading your senses. Dean and Crowley released you simultaneously.

You backed away from both men, stumbling against the wall as you gasped for breath. You didn’t even know what to say; you were too confused, too hurt, too scared.

“What was that?” Crowley asked, sounding as confused as you felt.

“Like I told you,” Dean growled. “With a little power, this little rugrat might be useful. And since I’m the one controlling the power…” Dean waved a hand over his cut wrist, and it healed itself. “I’m the one who she has to listen to. The perfect little sidekick.”

You didn’t need to hear anything more. You turned on your heel and tried to run, but Dean grabbed onto your arms and flung you against the wall. The back of your head hit the wall, and suddenly you couldn’t see or feel anything.

…

You awoke to the gentle purr of the Impala, and for a long moment you couldn’t tell what was going on. Were you on a hunt? You couldn’t remember. Then you tried to move your hands to rub your face, and they stopped, impeded by something metal. Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was your hands cuffed to the back of Dean’s seat. Crowley was in the passenger seat, and the memories came back almost instantly.

“She’s awake,” Crowley said.

“Ahh, good morning sweetheart,” Dean grinned, a sickeningly sinister smirk that looked nothing like your big brother.

“Where are we? Where are we going?” You looked out the windows, but the road sides were no help to your poor sense of direction.

Dean just chuckled.

“Wherever we want.”

…

The three of you drove all day, and once the sun lowered behind the horizon line, Dean pulled into a seedy motel. He opened his door and came around to your door. He didn’t unlock your cuffs; instead, he pulled a flask from his back pocket and unscrewed it, bringing it up to your mouth. You knew it was his blood before the liquid touched your lips, but again your struggles were futile as Dean held his hands over your mouth and nose until you swallowed.

“See, that’s not so bad,” Dean cooed even as you shuddered. “A few more of these and you’ll be so hooked, you’ll be begging me for another hit.”

Crowley watched with an unreadable expression as Dean freed your wrists from the handcuffs and led you inside the motel. Within minutes, Dean had you cuffed to the air conditioner in his room, and he and Crowley were off to party at the nearest bar. You tried to wiggle around to reach into your pocket, only to discover that Dean must’ve taken your phone and lock picking kit while you were knocked out. With nothing to focus on, you became acutely aware of the hunger pangs that were becoming more frequent: you hadn’t eaten since you’d been in the bunker. But soon, a different hunger took hold of you. It was unfamiliar, and it hurt worse than normal hunger. Fear began to nag at you, but you shook it off. You couldn’t be hooked on demon blood already, could you?

You couldn’t be sure, and that only flamed your panic. This whole situation was crazy, and you didn’t know how to adjust; Dean, a demon; you, kidnapped; and demon blood being fed to you no matter how much you tried to resist. Your mind played around with the idea that it wasn’t really Dean—that Crowley had lied and it really was some random demon inside your brother’s corpse—but you knew that Crowley, as devious as he was, had no reason to lie.

And that meant that it really was your big brother, trying to turn you into a demon blood addict just so that he could use you.

“We’re back!” Dean crowed triumphantly, snapping you out of your thoughts as he entered the motel with Crowley at his heels. A fast food bag was tossed into your lap, and Dean reached over your head and released you from the handcuffs. You chowed down on the burger without hesitation—you were too hungry to be ornery—noting in the back of your mind that Dean had remembered exactly how you liked your food; maybe he was still in there somewhere.

To your dismay, the food could only satisfy so much, and that unfamiliar pain lingered. You felt your eyes unintentionally slipping towards Dean’s flask, and unfortunately Dean noticed too. A wide grin split his face as he looked from you to his flask.

“Knew it wouldn’t take much to have you hooked,” he said, and when you started to shake your head in a panic his gaze softened—if only slightly. “Hey now,” he soothed, coming to sit by you and pulling out his flask. “It hurts, right?” At your hesitant nod, he continued. “I know it does. Now let your big brother take the pain away, ok?”

His tone was so familiar, and yet so unfamiliar at the same time. Soothing words that Dean might say to you before stitching up a wound—but that was not what was happening now. Dean’s voice was gentle, but his eyes held a dead indifference that had never been directed at you, not from Dean. Everything felt so wrong, and you were so overwhelmed and hurting that you could do nothing but cry softly as Dean lifted the flask to your lips and forced the liquid down your throat. He didn’t even bother to plug your nose, as you were too tired to fight him—you swallowed with no protest other than the tears tracking down your cheeks.

White hot shame filled you along with the demon blood. You had more fight in you than this, you knew you did. But this was different.

You’d never expected to be fighting against your brother, and that thought alone drained all of the fight in you.

“There it is.” Dean’s smirk turned your stomach, and you were already starting to regret eating that burger. “See? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You tried to turn away from him, but he grabbed onto your shoulder.

“C’mon, I’m gonna cuff you near the couch so you can get some sleep.”

Dean cuffed your hands to the nightstand next to the couch. You could lay on the couch with your arms stretched over your head; it was uncomfortable, but better than the floor you supposed.

To your surprise, you fell asleep quickly, drained from the long day on edge. But it was a fitful sleep, and some time in the middle of the night you awoke panting. It took you a moment to realize what was different; you weren’t handcuffed anymore. You looked down in your lap to see the cuffs in three pieces. You stared down at your hands; had you done that?

A groan from one of the beds had you flinching as Dean sat up. His eyes found you in the dark, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the black abyss that used to be your brothers bright green eyes. Then he blinked, and the green was there, but it wasn’t the same.

“Go back to sleep,” he demanded, and you were laying back down when he suddenly got up. You felt your body shaking as Dean approached you; you’d never been more scared of anyone than you were of Dean right now.

“Seems the demon blood is working,” Dean chuckled as he held up the broken cuffs. His eyes flickered to you. “How does power feel, little sister?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question. You didn’t feel powerful. Sure, you could break steel without even meaning to, but you had no power over your situation; if anything you felt more helpless than you ever had.

Unless…

Remembering Sam’s powers when he’d been drinking demon blood, you pushed your hand out in front of you. Before you even made contact with Dean, he staggered back and fell—you had telekinesis!

You jumped up from the couch and ran for the door. It had the door-block on it, but it tore loose when you yanked the door open. You took one stride out into the night air before strong arms wrapped around your midsection and flung you backwards, back into the motel room.

“Your powerful, little sister,” Dean chuckled darkly. “But not more powerful than me.”

You backed away, not even looking where you were going as you tried to escape your approaching brother. Your foot caught on the desk, and you went down hard, but you kept backing away, using your hands to scoot back. It didn’t do much, and when Dean reached you he gripped your shoulder and dragged you to your feet. He shoved you back down onto the couch, and turned and walked out the door without another word. You sat there in confusion until Dean returned—presumably from the Impala—with thick chains in his hands.

“This should hold you for a bit longer.” He smirked. “At least until I can get you so addicted to blood that you won’t leave.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you insisted.

Dean just laughed.

…

The pain was all consuming; you could think of nothing else. You were hungry, too, and thirsty, and your back ached from sleeping on the couch; but none of that mattered. All you could think about was blood.

You found yourself suddenly much more sympathetic towards Sam; sure, you’d felt bad for him—you knew his addiction had hurt like crazy—but you’d never felt it before. It was a new kind of pain in a world where you thought you’d experienced every kind.

What made it hurt worse was knowing that it was your big brother inflicting this pain, and not to get you un-hooked on demon blood; he was doing it to teach you some kind of sick lesson. Or maybe he thought it would get you even more addicted; if so, it was working.

After your little stunt trying to run away, Dean had chained you up to the wall, gagged you, and left with Crowley. That was yesterday; he hadn’t returned, even when night came and went. He knew the withdrawal pains would hit you like a truck; you figured that was the point.

What if it wasn’t a lesson? What if he was just sick of dragging you around, and he left you there? His words wouldn’t stop echoing in your head…

“You’ve always been the weak one…”

You’d always felt that way, but to hear Dean—even a black-eyed Dean—say it out loud hurt more than you wanted to admit.

And the fact that, even with demon blood in you, you couldn’t break out of the chains Dean put on you seemed to aid his description of you.

Were you really so pathetic that you were only useful when pumped full of demon blood?

“Hiya sweetheart, did you miss me?”

You’d been so lost that you didn’t even notice Dean enter the hotel room until he was right in front of you, unlocking your cuffs and pulling the gag down. When he was done, you felt your hands grip onto his arm of their own accord, and your eyes found his pleadingly. You wanted to pretend you didn’t know what you were pleading for—food, maybe? Water? But you and Dean knew all too well.

“You did miss me,” Dean said with a grin. “Is this what you want?” Dean held up a fast food bag. You hadn’t eaten in a day, you should have wanted it.

But you didn’t even look at it.

“No?” Dean put the bag down and picked up a water bottle. “How about this? Not this either?”

“Dean…” you mumbled, your eyes slipping down to your hands. “It…it hurts, Dean.”

“Aww.” Dean chuckled. You knew he was patronizing you, but you didn’t care. You just wanted him to make the pain go away.

“What about this?” Your eyes lifted to see Dean pulling out his flask. You saw a hand reach out for it, surprised when you realized it was your own. Dean wouldn’t let you touch it, though. He pulled it out of reach, shaking his head. “Don’t touch, sweetheart. That’s my job.”

You didn’t move as Dean opened the flask and lifted it to your face. You wished you could pretend that he was forcing you to drink the blood, but it wasn’t true anymore. He really had gotten you hooked.

The only question now was what would Sammy do when he found you?

…

The next few weeks fell into a regime. You tagged along while Dean and Crowley dragged you to town after town, bar after bar, motel after motel. After the first week, Dean stopped using the chains; he didn’t need them anymore. The resourceful, smart Winchester in the back of your mind knew that he was training you like a dog—when you listened, he let you drink from his flask; when you disobeyed, he let you suffer—but there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t resist the demon blood anymore, it hurt too much. And a part of you—the part desperate to please your big brother—didn’t want to. Dean thought you were useless without powers, and you didn’t have it in you to disagree anymore. The only reason Dean even wanted you around was that you had powers. Without that…

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Crowley approached you and Dean.

“We need to talk,” he said to Dean.

“So talk,” Dean said with a shrug. “She won’t bother us.” Dean waved offhandedly at you.

That’s all you were now; the sidekick, the tool, meant to stand aside and keep quiet.

“I don’t think you want her to hear this.” When Dean didn’t respond, Crowley sighed and continued. “Moose called.”

You stiffened, and Dean noticed.

“Go take a walk, N/N,” Dean said. You didn’t argue—you’d given up on that—but you did hesitate. Dean blinked, his eyes flashing black, and you flinched. “I said take a walk.”

You left without another word, but your brain was going a million miles a minute.

Sam called? Was he coming? Would he fix Dean…and you?

…

You returned to Dean when he waved you over.

Like an obedient little puppy, you thought disgustedly. You thought you’d given up on your pride and your dignity weeks ago, but the thought of Sam returning to see you like this brought it all rushing back.

“Here.” Dean pulled out his flask when you approached him. You stiffened and you had to force your head to turn away from your big brother. Dean scoffed, “One mention of Sammy and now you’re all high and mighty?” Dean’s fingers clenched around your jaw, and he turned your chin to face him. “Let me make this clear; drink now, or I won’t let you for the next two days.”

Your breath caught in your throat; the most he’d ever cut you off was for about a day, and that had been one of the most painful days of your life. You couldn’t do it, you knew you couldn’t.

Dean let go of your face, and you tilted your head up slightly, your lips parting just a little. It was all the assent that Dean needed.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffed, uncapping his flask.

What had you gotten yourself into?

…

You’d been getting better and better with your powers. Dean had had you practicing, mostly on random demons that Crowley let get too close to him.

The better you got, the more you began to think that Dean was right; you had been useless before, never able to help your brothers. Now you could help—now you had power.

Every time you got better with your powers, Dean would flash you a wide grin—it was cocky, not at all like his old proud smile—but it was good to see nonetheless. It felt good to do something for your big brother. It felt like you were finally repaying him for everything he had done for you.

“Pick a side!”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Crowley’s outburst. You had followed Dean into Crowley’s demon meeting after Dean murdered one of Crowley’s clients. After weeks around Crowley, you tended to tune him out, but now he seemed heated, and Dean was tense beside you.

“Or what?” Dean asked before shoving a Crowley across the floor. Crowley got up in a huff, glancing around as if to see if his demons had noticed—of course they had.

“This—“ Crowley gestured between himself and Dean “—is over. You’re too unpredictable.”

“Ok,” Dean said, a nonchalant smile gracing his lips. “How’s this for unpredictable?” And suddenly he was looking at you, eyes boring into you as if you could read his mind. To your surprise, you could; or at least, you knew what he wanted. He wanted to piss Crowley off—he wanted you to exorcise all of Crowley’s goons. You’d only ever exorcised one at a time, which was a far cry from the five that surrounded you now.

Still, your big brother wanted something from you, and you were going to do your best.

You closed your eyes in concentration, holding your hand out as almost an anchor. You could feel the power pulsing through your blood, as if the demon blood was intertwining with your own. You heard screams of pain from the demons, but you blocked them out, hyper-focused. When the screaming stopped, you opened your eyes to see five empty vessels strewn across the floor. Your attention turned to Crowley, your hand still outstretched.

He staggered back a half step, but Dean reached out and pushed your hand down.

“Hey, easy—not him sweetheart.”

Your attention turned to Dean at his words, and there it was; that proud grin. Your lips twitched up even as you thought that you missed the way the old Dean would let you know he was proud of you. The way that he’d smile a real smile, and ruffle your hair, and say, “Good job, kid.”

Instead, this Dean smirked and pulled his flask out of his back pocket, holding it for you to drink from even as he turned his attention back to Crowley.

“You want unpredictable? You want this to be over? Good; I don’t need you, I never did.” Dean capped his flask and turned to go.

He didn’t even look back to see if you would follow; he knew you would.

…

You sat on a stool beside a piano in an empty bar, watching Dean play around with the keys. It had been hours since he’d let you have a drink, but every time you tapped his arm he just snapped at you to leave him be. You were doing just that—sitting quietly and watching your big brother—when the door to the bar opened.

“Sam!” You jumped up before you’d even fully registered that it was Sam who’d walked in the door. When you started towards him, Dean’s voice stopped you.

“No.”

It was just the one word, but it was enough. Your body acted almost if its own accord, stopping the instant the word was out of Dean’s mouth. You’d gotten used to obeying him without question lately, and it was a habit you weren’t so sure you could break.

“Commere,” Dean said, and again you listened, going to stand beside him as he stood from the piano bench.

Your eyes drifted to Sam, who was looking from Dean to you in utter confusion.

“Good.” Dean’s voice brought your attention back to him, and you saw him reaching into his back pocket for his flask. Your stomach dropped to your toes; that was why he wouldn’t let you drink earlier. He suspected that Sam was coming, and he wanted you to be desperate enough to drink in front of him. Your heart caught in your throat as you stared up at Dean, as if he could somehow undo what he’d already done. He just smirked at you as he uncapped the flask and held it up.

Your body was screaming for it—you’d been achy, pain stiffening your muscles for at least an hour—you needed it. Keeping your eyes downcast so that you didn’t have to see Sam’s face, you took a half step closer to Dean and let him tilt the contents of the flask into your mouth.

“What are you doing?” Sam lurched forward, recognizing the substance immediately. “Dean, you can’t! Y/N, stop!”

“Aww, it’s not her fault, Sammy,” Dean chuckled as he pulled the flask away and capped it. “She was never gonna be strong enough to stop me.”

You ducked your head in shame even as your nerves were screaming for more blood. You couldn’t bear to even look in Sam’s direction.

“Dean, what did you do?” Sam demanded, panic lacing his tone.

“Made her useful!” Dean insisted, still grinning like this was all a great joke. “You should see her now, Sammy. She exorcised five demons all at once today, I bet she’s pretty tired out.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched up in a small smile at Dean’s words. He was bragging on you to Sam—it was nice to hear.

“Useful?” Sam’s scoff brought the shame back. “Dean, she’s not an object! She’s not some kind of tool for you to use! She’s our sister!”

“So what? She was useless before, a weak and pathetic tag-along. I finally brought some purpose to her life.”

You bit down hard on your lip to keep it from quivering. You kept your gaze down so you didn’t have to see either of your brothers.

“Dean, stop it!” Sam yelled.

“Fine.” Dean shrugged. “You want me to stop? Try and bring her back. She won’t go, I’ve got her hooked more than you ever were.”

Dean stepped back, watching from the other side of the piano while Sam approached you. You kept your eyes on your shoes even as you heard Sam approaching.

“Honey, hey, look at me.” Sam came to a stop mere inches from you. Your breaths picked up as tears blurred your vision, but you forced yourself to blink them back and look up at your brother. The hate that you were expecting wasn’t there, neither was the disgust or the anger. Instead, Sam’s eyes were gentle; understanding. “I can help you. You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“But…” Dean’s words swam around in your head, and they were all you could think of. “But without this I’m useless. I wanna be useful. I’m useful, Sammy, I’m powerful!”

Sam’s gaze never wavered.

“But are you happy?”

You stopped. You’d been so worried about being useful to Dean, that you hadn’t even thought about…

Your head shook slowly from side to side, the tears returning. Sam’s gaze softened even more.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Sam,” you whimpered, finally letting the tears fall. “I-I didn’t mean to—but I can’t st-stop.” You covered your face with your hands as you sobbed, and you flinched when you felt Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“Shh, hey…” Sam pulled you into his embrace, and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head as he rubbed your back. “Honey it’s ok. We can fix this, I just gotta take you home.”

“She’s not gonna leave me, Sammy,” Dean mocked. “I’ve got her hooked.”

“You’re coming too,” Sam directed at him. “I didn’t just come for her. We can cure demons, Dean.”

“Did you even stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn’t have left? And I certainly wouldn’t have gotten our little sister addicted to demon blood just to cut off her supply.” Dean jeered, laughing. “I mean, what kind of brother would do that?”

“Enough, Dean! I’m bringing you back whether you want to come or not.” Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of demon cuffs.

“Do you really think those will hold me?” Dean scoffed.

“We’re about to find out,” Sam sighed.

A hiss filled the air, followed by smoke that separated both of your brothers from your sight.

“Sam! Dean!” Your cries were followed by a fit of coughing when you breathed in the gas. A hand on your shoulder turned your attention to Dean, who was trying to drag you towards the door.

“Sammy,” you protested, searching through the gas for your brother.

“He’s fine,” Dean growled, pulling harder. “Now come on.”

“No!” You yanked your arm from Dean’s grasp. He didn’t try to grab you again; he didn’t think he had to.

“Y/N, come. That’s an order.”

You gritted your teeth, shoving down the pain in your body that begged you to listen to Dean.

“Screw your orders.”

Dean’s eyes flashed black as he advanced on you.

“You little—“

You didn’t hesitate—you lifted your hands and used the telekinesis that Dean had given you to fling him across the room. You turned your back, not even bothering to see where he landed.

…

You found Sam easily, and the two of you made it out of the building after Dean. The minute Sam stepped foot out the door, a man came out of nowhere and knocked him out.

“Sam!” You knelt next to your big brother, glancing in fear at the man who’d hit him. He hesitated when he saw you were just a kid.

“Stay out of my way, or you’re next,” he warned before turning to face Dean. You remembered Dean mentioning that a man was after him; you had no doubt that Dean would win this fight, so you turned your attention to waking Sam up—he was your only chance at bringing Dean home.

“Sammy, come on,” you urged. He only stirred once Dean and the other man were finished their fight—Dean won, but he didn’t kill the other man, to your surprise.

“Just stay here,” Sam instructed, shaking off his headache as he stood, demon cuffs held with his injured arm—you wondered suddenly how he’d been hurt—and holy water in the other hand.

You stayed back as Sam approached Dean from behind. It was over in mere seconds—Dean, distracted by the holy water, was unable to fight off the cuffs that Sam slapped on him.

“Dean, stop! It’s over.”

…

You got into the passenger’s seat after Sam ushered Dean into the back. Sam was outside, passing off the First Blade to Crowley.

“You picked the wrong side,” Dean said, and the sound of his voice made you flinch.

“Says the one in the handcuffs,” you shot back, but your voice was much too shaky for Dean to take seriously.

“Oh, this won’t last,” Dean said, lifting his hands. “And once these come off, you’re going to regret using those powers on me.”

…

You breathed easier when Sam returned to the Impala, and the three of you were off. Sam and Dean were arguing about Dean’s fight with that man, Cole. Sam was convinced that because Dean let him live, there was still some good in him.

“Letting him live was the worst thing I could’ve done to him,” Dean chuckled. “And that’s nothing compared to what I’m going to you.” Sam swallowed nervously, but Dean continued. “Or to our little sister.” You nearly jumped out of your seat when Dean kicked it.

“Stop it,” Sam demanded. “She…she didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, she picked her side,” Dean insisted. “And she picked wrong.”

…

You were shaking by the time the Impala reached the bunker. Sam kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, recognizing the symptoms; you needed more blood.

“Stay here,” he instructed as he stepped out to get Dean. “I’m gonna get him settled downstairs and I’ll come back for you.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later Sam returned and led you to your room.

“You know what I have to do, right?” He asked gently. You nodded.

“Tie me down and lock me up, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I don’t want to, but—“

“But there’s a demon in the bunker, and I’m about to go through extreme withdrawals,” you finished. “I-I know Sam. It’s not your fault.” Your gaze was glued to your fidgeting hands.

“Hey, look at me.” When you met his gaze, Sam continued. “It’s not your fault either. I know you didn’t want it.”

“I started to.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Af-after a while, I started to want it. The power…all of it.”

“It’s ok.” Sam pulled you close, and his embrace made you feel more at home than you had in weeks. “I know how that feels, but we’re gonna fix it. I’m gonna be right here.”

When he pulled away, you took a deep breath.

“I’m ready.”

…

You were wrong. Dead wrong, and so was Sam. Sam was killing you, you were sure of it.

Of course, that was the withdrawal talking, but you were too far deep in your pain to know that. All you knew was that you’d never hurt this much in your life, and the way to make the pain go away was right downstairs, but Sam wouldn’t let you near it.

“I need Dean,” you cried for the thousandth time. “Sammy, please!” You were in too much pain to even notice that Sam wasn’t there, and he hadn’t been in to check on you in a while. In fact, you were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the door opening, and the very person you were begging for walking in.

“I told you you picked the wrong side,” Dean chuckled, his voice grabbing your attention.

“Dean,” you whimpered, in too much pain to be scared or curious that he’d gotten out. “Dean, please.”

“You know—“ Dean sighed as he began to undo the straps holding your legs. “You talk too much.” Once both your legs were free, Dean made his way near your head. You swallowed hard as Dean picked up a knife that you’d left on your dresser. “So I think I’ve found the perfect punishment for you. I mean, you did use your powers on me. Did you think I was just going to forget that?”

“P-punishment?” You asked nervously.

“Yeah,” Dean glared down at you, his eyes flashing black. “First, I’m gonna cut off your tongue. Then, I’m gonna give you so much blood, that you won’t be able to think straight. Then you’re gonna help me kill Sammy, then Crowley. And if you ever disobey me again, I’ll slit your throat.” Dean grinned. “How’s that for a little brotherly love?”

Dean’s knife was inching closer to your mouth, his other hand gripping your face to keep you still, when the lights went out. Dean released you, and a tense silence filled the bunker for a moment or two before the emergency lights clicked on, red light casting an eery glow throughout your room.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” Dean said to you. “Now that I know where Sammy is, you can wait; after all, you’re not going anywhere.”

All you could do was watch as Dean turned and walked out, intent on killing your brother.

…

You were struggling against the restraints to no avail when Sam came bursting into the room.

“Did he hurt you?” Sam demanded, alarmed when you suddenly burst into tears.

“I-I thought he was gonna kill you,” you cried.

“It’s ok, I’m ok,” Sam assured you as he started to undo you restraints.

“Don’t!” You insisted. “I’m…I don’t think I’m clean yet.”

Sam halted his movements, his eyes trained on your face.

“He didn’t hurt you?” Sam asked.

“He didn’t get the chance.” You sniffled. “W…where is he?”

“Chained up again,” Sam sighed. “Cas is watching him. I think…I think maybe he’s almost human now.”

“Go to him,” you insisted. “I’ll be ok here until I’m clean, really.” Somehow, Dean’s threats had strengthened your resolve to stay away from demon blood. “Go bring our Dean back.”

…

“I want to see her.”

Sam was adamant. “You can’t, not yet.”

Dean sighed, rubbing his newly-freed hands over his face.

“Why not?”

Before Sam could answer, a cry of pain could be heard from your room. Sam cringed.

“She…she’s still in detox. She could go nuts if she sees you, even though you’re not a demon anymore. We can’t take that chance.”

Dean didn’t argue; he knew Sam was right. Still, the next two days were complete torture as he was forced to stay away from you, listening to your pleas for him. Every time you called out his name was a reminder that it was Dean’s fault that you were hurting.

“I’m sorry,” he found himself whispering over and over under his breath every time you cried out; he was desperate to tell you in person.

After those awful two days, the screaming stopped. Dean was already halfway to your room when he was stopped by Sam.

“She’s ok,” Sam insisted. “I think she’s clean. I just took her restraints off.”

“Ok,” Dean said simply, trying to move past Sam and toward your door. Sam moved in front of him.

“She’s sleeping. She needs it.”

Dean deflated, discouraged.

“What is this, Sam? Are you really trying to help her, or do you just not trust me?” He knew he was being unfair, but he had to know.

“It’s not about you,” Sam assured him, clearly pushing away his hurt at Dean’s implication. “She needs rest. Besides, I…I don’t know how she’ll react to seeing you again, and I don’t want to push her faster than I need to.”

Dean was silent for a long moment, before finally asking the question that had been nagging at him for days.

“Do you think she hates me?”

Sam looked pained, as if he had expected the question.

“Right now I…I almost wish she did,” Sam said. “Because I think she hates herself more than anything.”

…

You’d been awake for about twenty minutes, but you hadn’t moved. At least, your body hadn’t moved; your mind was going at a breakneck speed. You remembered briefly that Sam had said Dean was cured, but you couldn’t be sure if you’d imagined it in your withdrawal fog. You were pretty sure that most of yesterday had been a hallucination. Sam had insisted that he wouldn’t let Dean in, yet there he had been, jeering at you, saying again and again that the second you were clean, you’d be useless again.

You knew it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. But the hallucination had been right anyway.

The sound of the door opening had your head turning, but your mind still hadn’t left its dark corner.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, and even though the door was only open a little, you could see Dean standing behind him. That only lasted for a moment before Sam squeezed himself into your room and shut the door behind him. “How are you?”

“He doesn’t want to see me?” Your eyes remained glued to the door where Dean had been standing, even as you sat up.

“What?” Sam frowned. “Of course he does, I just…I wanted to check with you first. Are you gonna be ok to see him?”

You nodded. “If…” you were suddenly nervous at the thought of seeing Dean after everything. “If he wants to.”

“Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?”

Shame bubbled up in you as you thought about the past few weeks, and you ducked your head, unwilling to answer Sam’s question. He didn’t push it; instead, he turned to go, leaving the door open so that Dean could take his place.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean greeted gently, and you heard rather than felt your breath pick up at the sound of his voice. You kept your eyes downcast.

What did Dean think of you? You remembered how disappointed and angry he had been with Sam when Sam had gotten hooked on demon blood. Would Dean hate you now? Would he finally see you as the burden you’d always been, now that you didn’t have powers anymore?

“Sweetheart, would you look at me?” When your eyes met his, you saw not anger or disappointment, but sadness. That was too much for you. The tears came suddenly and soundlessly. “Oh, kiddo…” Dean sighed, reaching his hands out to comfort you. However, you’d spent too much time with the rough, angry demon Dean to see comfort in his hands. When you flinched back, Dean stopped immediately, returning his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry, I…” Dean’s voice cracked. “I didn’t come here to scare you, I just wanted to apologize. I know that doesn’t make up for what I did, but…but I wanted you to know.”

You looked up suddenly, not surprised but doubtful. You’d expected an apology from Dean, but you hadn’t expected it to sound quite so sincere; you’d expected underlying disappointment at least.

“You…” you swallowed. “You’re not upset with me?”

“With you?” Dean was confused. “Why would I be upset with you?”

You ducked your head as the tears returned.

“I-I was weak,” you choked out. “I’m still weak.”

“Hey, hey.” Dean tilted your chin up with his fingers, his hands as gentle as could be on your skin. “None of this—not one bit—was your fault. I did this to you, and I don’t blame you, not for a second. Understand?”

You were shaking your head.

“I-I should’ve—“

“There was nothing you coulda done to stop me,” Dean said, self-loathing lacing his every word. “And I know how impossible it is to stop on your own after you’ve started, I’d never blame you for getting addicted.”

You stayed silent as you processed his words. Once you had, you felt the need to speak again.

“I don’t blame you either,” you insisted. “You weren’t the same—demon you. It wasn’t anything like you, it wasn’t your fault.”

Dean looked dubious, but he also didn’t bother to argue. Comfortable silence reigned for several minutes before he spoke again.

“How do you feel?”

“Starving,” you answered honestly, to which Dean smiled.

“You wanna take a little trip? You and me, I’ll take you to get some food.”

The idea of Dean bundling you into the Impala and driving off—without Sam nonetheless—had terror gripping your heart, accelerating its pace. You didn’t blame Dean for what he’d done, but the memories were still all too fresh.

“Or,” Dean countered, instantly noting your panicked expression. “Or I could go and get something to bring back, and you, me, and Sammy could have a movie night?”

You nodded—that sounded perfect. Dean was just turning to go when you stopped him.

“Dean? Does…is there any part of you that wishes I’d stayed that way?”

“What way?” Dean’s brows drew together, whether in concern or confusion you couldn’t tell. “You mean, addicted to demon blood?”

“I just mean…” you struggled to force the words out. “I mean…useful.”

Deans face fell, and you regretted asking.

“What?”

“I-I mean, I don’t really do anything around here. At least then, I—“

“Stop.” You weren’t sure if it was the seriousness of his tone, or the fact that you’d spent the last few weeks obeying his every word, but you shut up immediately when Dean spoke. “I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Dean said slowly and deliberately, and again you stayed obediently silent. “Nothing about what I did to you was good, ok? And you are not useless. Actually,” Dean waved his hand in front of his face dismissively. “Forget about use. Sam was right, you’re not some tool, ok? You’re important to us, and not because of what you can do. But even if it was about that, you do so much for us. You’ve been with me and Sammy through everything, and that matters way more than you moving stuff with your mind, ok?”

Despite the tears that were still falling, you felt a smile tug at your lips.

“Ok, Dean.”

“Ok,” Dean said with a firm nod. “Go find Sam, and I’ll head out for food.”

You stood almost mechanically and headed for the door without a word. Dean recognized your stance with a silent horror.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice was shaky as he reached out and grabbed your hand. “That…it wasn’t an order, ok? I’m not making you do anything, I—“

“I know,” you interrupted, understanding his horror. “It’s just…habit, I-I guess. Shut up and obey, you know?” You wished you hadn’t added that last part when you saw Dean stiffen ever so slightly, swallowing hard.

“I’m so—“

“Don’t apologize again,” you pleaded. “I forgive you, ok? I-I guess I just need to unlearn some things.”

Dean nodded, but you could tell he was still beating himself up inside. You took two strides and reached him, pulling him into an embrace. His arms enveloped you entirely, and you realized that you’d forgotten how much you missed him.

“Tell me if I can help with that, ok?” He said.

“Ok,” you promised. “Now go get me some food, I’m starving.”

Dean’s chest rumbled next to your ear as he chuckled.

“Yes ma’am.”

Taglist:

@mrvlxgrl @nyotamalfoy @chocorade @inlovewhithafairytale @aestheticdaisies @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

Fic Taglist:

@just-levyy @mfstargirlsworld

#dean winchester #the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #demon dean #demon dean x little sister #demon dean x reader #sam winchester x sister!reader

967 notes · View notes

deans-yn · 4 months ago

Text

as a bi girl i’m tired of pretending im not attracted to meg the demon

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #castiel #castiel x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #megstiel #meg the demon

151 notes · View notes

lila-lou · 10 months ago

Text

✨Beyond saving - Pt. 2✨

Summary: Dean is back and no longer a demon. But with all the emotions he has to deal with now, he would rather die.

This is part 3 of "Beyond saving".

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!, Mention of rape, Language, Angst, Hurt

Word Count: 5518

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As the hours stretched on, the pain seemed to deepen, sinking into your bones and settling in your soul. At first, you lay on the floor, tears flowing freely as you grappled with the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to consume you.

But as time passed, a numbness set in, dulling the sharp edges of your agony and enveloping you in a cold, empty void. You lay there, lost in the darkness of your own thoughts, the weight of your suffering pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

After hours and with trembling limbs and tears streaming down your face, you forced yourself to your feet, the pain in your broken wrists and ribs a constant reminder of the brutality you had endured.

With each step, you felt the weight of your pain bearing down on you, threatening to crush you beneath its unbearable burden.

You made your way towards the bathroom, each movement filled with agony.

As you sank into the warm embrace of the bathtub, the water enveloped you like a soothing balm, offering a brief respite from the relentless ache that gripped your body. But even as the comforting embrace of the water washed over you, the pain remained.

Your wrists throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, the broken bones protesting with every movement. Each breath sent sharp spikes of pain shooting through your ribs, the fractured bones protesting against the strain of simply existing. And between your legs, your pussy throbbed with a raw, tender soreness, a painful reminder of Dean's brutal assault.

As you lay there, staring blankly at the water stained crimson with your own blood, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness wash over you. It wasn't just your body that bore the scars of Dean's cruelty, but your heart and soul as well.

Your face bore the imprint of his violence, your Skin bruised and swollen. And beneath the water, your bruised buttocks throbbed with pain, the memory of his forceful kneel still fresh in your mind.

As Sam and Cas returned to the bunker, a sense of urgency filled the air. Sam's heart raced with fear as he noticed the dried blood staining the kitchen floor, his mind racing with dread at the thought of what could have happened to you. Without hesitation, he began knocking frantically on the bathroom door, calling out your name with increasing desperation.

"Y/N, open up!", Sam's voice was filled with concern and panic as he pounded on the door, his hands trembling with fear. "Please, we need to make sure you're okay!".

But there was no response, only silence echoing back at him from the other side of the door. His heart sank as he exchanged a worried glance with Cas, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him like a heavy stone.

"Cas, we need to get this door open", Sam urged, his voice laced with urgency as he turned to his angelic friend for help. "Something's not right. I can feel it".

With a determined nod, Cas focused his powers, channeling his energy into the door with a burst of light. In an instant, the lock clicked open, and Sam pushed the door open with a sense of dread gnawing at his insides.

But as he stepped inside, what he saw took his breath away. There you were, lying motionless in the bathtub, surrounded by water tinged with the faint traces of blood. Sam's heart clenched with fear as he rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch you.

"Y/N, can you hear me?", Sam's voice was thick with emotion as he gently shook your shoulder, his eyes wide with fear. "Please, say something. Anything".

But you remained silent, your eyes vacant and distant as you stared blankly ahead. Sam's heart sank as he realized the depth of your pain.

As Sam pleaded with Cas to heal you, desperation crept into his voice, his eyes pleading with the angel for help. But despite Cas's best efforts, his healing powers seemed ineffective against the depth of your injuries. You looked terrible, completely broken, your body bearing the physical and emotional scars of Dean's cruelty.

Gently, Sam scooped you up in his arms, wrapping a towel around you with Cas's help, mindful of your fragile state.

As he held you close, he could feel the weight of your pain pressing against him. With each sob that wracked your body, his heart broke a little more, his own tears mingling with yours as he whispered words of comfort and reassurance.

"You're safe now, Y/N", Sam murmured softly.

With each step, each movement, you cried out in pain, your broken body unable to withstand even the slightest touch.

Again Cas tried to heal you. His touch enveloped your broken body, his powers surging forth with a gentle glow. With a focused determination, he began to mend the shattered bones in your wrists and ribs, his efforts slowly easing the physical pain that wracked your body.

As the warmth of his healing magic spread through you, you felt a glimmer of relief wash over you, the sharp edges of your agony blunted by his divine intervention. But even as your physical wounds began to heal, the scars that marred your soul remained untouched, a constant reminder of the darkness that had consumed you.

With a heavy heart, Cas realized the limitations of his power. Despite his best efforts, he could mend your broken bones, but the wounds that lay within you ran far deeper than he could reach.

"I've done what I can for your injuries", Cas murmured softly, his voice filled with regret as he regarded you with a solemn gaze. "But healing your soul… that will take time".

Sam's heart ached as he watched you, his own eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and sorrow. He longed

Three long weeks passed before you found the strength to speak again, the weight of your silence bearing down on you like a heavy burden. With trembling lips, you finally opened up to Sam, your voice barely above a whisper as you recounted the horrors that Dean had inflicted upon you.

"I… I couldn't stop him", you began, your voice trembling with emotion as you struggled to find the words to convey the depth of your suffering. "Dean… he… he hurt me, Sam. He hurt me in ways I can't even begin to describe".

Sam's eyes filled with tears as he listened to your words, his heart breaking with each revelation. He reached out to you, his hand offering silent support as you continued to speak, recounting the brutality of Dean's actions with a raw honesty that left him reeling.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N", Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea… I never thought Dean could… could do something like that".

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you struggled to come to terms with the reality of what had happened. "I… I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive him", you admitted, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at him the same way again".

From that moment on, everything changed. The lightness and laughter that had once filled the bunker were replaced by a heavy silence, the weight of your pain casting a shadow over everything you did. Even the thought of Dean filled you with a sense of dread and betrayal, and you found yourself withdrawing further and further into yourself, your hope for redemption slipping away with each passing day.

Six months had passed since Sam had succeeded in healing Dean from the darkness of his demonhood. As Sam carefully uncuffed him in the dimly lit basement, a sense of trepidation hung heavy in the air. Dean’s first question, as the shackles fell away, was for you.

“Where is she?”, Dean’s voice was filled with a mixture of concern and longing as he scanned the room, searching for any sign of your presence. But Sam’s expression remained firm, his resolve unyielding as he stood between Dean and the truth.

“Not now, Dean”, Sam replied gently, his voice tinged with sadness. “She’s… she’s not ready to see you yet”.

Dean's heart sank at Sam's words, a heavy weight settling in his chest at the thought of your absence. "I understand", he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm… I'm not sure I'm ready to see her either. Not after what I did".

Sam's gaze softened with empathy as he looked at his brother, understanding the depth of Dean's guilt and remorse. "She's been struggling, Dean", he explained gently, his voice filled with concern. "It hasn't been easy for her these past six months. She's… she's hurt".

Dean's jaw tightened as he listened to Sam's words, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a leaden weight. "I know", he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "And it's all my fault".

Sam reached out, placing a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder. "We'll get through this together, Dean", he reassured him, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But it's going to take time. It's going to take a lot of work to earn back her trust".

As you entered your room, after a few days at Jodie´s, the familiar scent of Dean enveloped you, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a scent you had once found comforting, a reminder of the love and connection you shared with him. But now, it filled you with a sense of unease, dredging up painful memories that you had tried so hard to bury.

Unaware that Dean was back and healed, you began to unpack your belongings, your mind drifting back to the last time you had been in this room together. The memory of his touch, his laughter, and the warmth of his embrace lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what had been lost.

Little did you know, Dean had been there just moments before, his presence lingering like a ghost in the room. He had come seeking solace in the familiar surroundings, hoping to feel some connection to you.

But as you moved about the room, your senses tingling with the weight of his presence, a sense of foreboding washed over you. It was as if the walls themselves were closing in, suffocating you with the memories of a love that had turned sour.

And as you stood there, frozen in place, the realization slowly dawned on you—Dean was back. He was here, in this room, just minutes ago, his presence a haunting reminder of the pain and betrayal you had endured.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to come to terms with the truth, the weight of his absence and his return crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You knew that facing him again would reopen wounds, dredging up emotions you had spent months trying to suppress.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, Sam found you frozen in the room, your emotions palpable in the air around you. Concern etched deep lines into Sam's face as he approached, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

"We need to talk", Sam said gently, his voice filled with compassion as he reached out to touch your shoulder.

You turned to face him, your expression a mixture of anguish and resignation. "I already know", you whispered hoarsely, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sam's brow furrowed with concern as he moved closer, his hand lingering on your arm. "Y/N, I know this is hard, but you can't just run away from this", he urged softly, his eyes searching yours for some sign of understanding.

But you were already moving towards the door, your mind clouded with pain and uncertainty. "I can't do this, Sam", you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. "I can't face him again, not after everything that's happened".

Sam's grip tightened on your arm, his expression filled with determination. "You don't have to face him alone", he insisted, his voice unwavering. "I'll be there with you, every step of the way".

For a moment, you hesitated, torn between the desire to flee and the need to confront the truth. But in the end, it was Sam's unwavering support that gave you the strength to stay.

With a heavy sigh, you nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that bound you together.

As the days passed, the weight of Dean's presence hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the turmoil that engulfed your life. Despite Sam's assurances, you couldn't bring yourself to face him, the fear and uncertainty gnawing at your insides like a relentless beast.

Each night, you lay awake in bed, listening to the echoes of Dean's screams as he wrestled with his nightmares. His tortured cries pierced the silence of the night, a haunting melody that echoed through the empty corridors of the bunker.

And during the day, you remained holed up in your room, barricaded behind closed doors as you sought refuge from the chaos that threatened to consume you. The sound of Dean's footsteps outside your door sent shivers down your spine, the fear of his presence paralyzing you with its intensity.

Sleep became a distant memory, your mind plagued by a never-ending carousel of worries and anxieties. Dark circles formed beneath your eyes, a testament to the sleepless nights and endless torment that plagued your every waking moment.

In the kitchen, your hands trembled as you reached for another cup of coffee, the bitter taste a poor substitute for the comfort you so desperately craved.

Cas found you in the kitchen, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow as he took in your tired and worn appearance.

"Y/N, you look exhausted", he remarked softly, his blue eyes filled with worry. "Have you been sleeping at all?".

You shook your head, the weariness weighing heavily on your shoulders. "Not much", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's been hard to find any peace, especially with him back".

Cas nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I can imagine", he replied gently. "But you can't keep going on like this. It's not healthy".

Tears welled in your eyes as you confessed your fear. "I'm afraid to sleep", you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Every time I close my eyes, I hear Dean's screams and footsteps outside my door. I can't bear the thought of facing him again".

"I can stay with you while you sleep, if that would help".

Your heart swelled with gratitude at his offer, a sense of relief washing over you like a wave. "Thank you, Cas", you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I don't know what I would do without you".

A few hours later, the sound of the bunker door opening signaled the return of Sam and Dean from their hunt. Sam's footsteps echoed through the corridors as he made his way through the bunker, his expression a mix of exhaustion and anticipation.

"Hey, Cas, you here?", Sam called out, his voice carrying down the hallway.

Cas emerged from your room, his gaze meeting Sam's as he stepped into the dimly lit corridor. "Sam", he greeted quietly, his tone somber.

Sam's brow furrowed with concern as he took in Cas's grave expression. "What's going on?", he asked.

Cas hesitated for a moment before speaking, his words measured and deliberate. "Y/N hasn't been sleeping well", he explained, his gaze drifting back to your sleeping form on the bed.

Sam's glanced into the room, his heart sinking at the sight of you curled up on the bed, your face drawn and pale in the soft light.

"What do you mean?", Sam asked, his voice filled with worry.

Cas sighed. "She's been afraid to sleep", he admitted quietly. "So I offered to stay with her while she rests".

"Thank you, Cas", he said sincerely, gratitude evident in his voice. "I'll take over from here".

And as Cas nodded in acknowledgment, Sam stepped into the room, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form with a mixture of concern and tenderness. With Cas's help, he would ensure that you found the peace and rest you so desperately needed.

As Sam and Cas remained in your room, their voices barely above a whisper as they discussed your condition, Dean found himself drawn to the doorway like a moth to a flame. Despite Sam's explicit instructions to stay away, he couldn't resist the urge to see you, to reassure himself that you were okay.

With each hesitant step, Dean's heart pounded in his chest, his footsteps silent on the floor as he approached the room where you lay sleeping. He knew he shouldn't be here, knew he was risking Sam's wrath by defying his orders, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to see you, to make sure you were safe.

As he reached the doorway, Dean's breath caught in his throat at the sight before him. You lay on the bed, your breathing slow and steady, your face peaceful in sleep. For a moment, Dean was transfixed by the sight of you, his heart aching with longing and regret.

But even as he stood there, a voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the pain he had caused you, of the darkness that still lingered within him. He knew he didn't deserve your forgiveness, didn't deserve to be anywhere near you after what he had done.

As Dean turned to leave the room, Sam’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.

“Dean, what the hell are you doing here?”, Sam’s tone was sharp, his eyes flashing with anger as he confronted his brother in the hallway.

Dean froze in his tracks, his heart sinking at the sound of Sam’s voice.

“I just… I needed to see her, Sammy”, Dean replied, his voice heavy with guilt and regret. “I needed to know she was okay”.

"I get that, Dean", Sam said, his voice softer but still tinged with frustration. "But she needs space, especially from you".

Dean nodded, a mix of shame and understanding evident in his eyes. "I know, Sam. I fucking screwed up", he admitted, his voice tight with emotion. "I just… I can't stand the thought of her being in pain and not being able to do anything about it".

Sam sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he tried to find the right words. "I know you care about her, Dean", he said gently. "But right now, what she needs most is for you to respect her boundaries. Give her the space she needs to heal".

Dean swallowed hard, the weight of Sam's words sinking in. "I will, Sam. I promise", he vowed, his voice filled with sincerity.

With a nod, Sam gestured for Dean to follow him away from the room. As they walked down the hallway together, Dean couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that weighed heavily on his heart.

One week later, Sam and Dean sat in the library, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy in the air. They had been discussing Dean's time as a demon, the darkness that had consumed him, and the pain he had inflicted on those he cared about.

After a long silence, broken only by the soft crackling of the fireplace, Dean spoke up, his voice choked with tears. "I can't do this", he admitted, his words barely above a whisper. "I can't live with what I've done to her".

Sam's heart sank at the despair in his brother's voice, the anguish written plainly on his face. He reached out a hand, placing it gently on Dean's shoulder, offering what little comfort he could.

"I know it's hard, Dean", Sam said softly, his own voice thick with emotion. "But you can't give up. You have to find a way to live with what you've done, to make things right".

Dean shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I don't know if I can, Sam", he confessed, his voice raw with pain. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for what I did to her".

Sam's heart broke for his brother, for the torment he was enduring. He wanted nothing more than to take away Dean's suffering, to ease the burden of guilt that weighed so heavily upon him.

Dean’s voice cracked as he continued, the weight of his confession pressing down on him like a heavy burden. “I hate myself, Sam”, he whispered. “I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is… is what I did to her”.

"I know, Dean”, Sam said softly. “I know it’s hard, but you can’t let it consume you. You’re stronger than this”.

But Dean shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked. “I don’t feel strong, Sam”, he admitted. “I feel broken. Like I’m irredeemable”.

"I know she'll never forgive me, Sam", he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I don't blame her. What I did… it's unforgivable".

Sam's heart clenched at Dean's admission, the weight of his brother's pain almost too much to bear. "Dean, you can't give up hope", he said gently, his voice filled with compassion. "People can surprise you. You just have to give her time".

But Dean shook his head, his eyes filled with resignation. "I've lost her, Sam", he said, his voice hollow with despair. "I've lost the love of my life, and the respect I had for myself along with it".

Standing in the hallway, you listened silently to the conversation unfolding in the library. The weight of Dean's confession and Sam's comforting words hung heavy in the air, their voices echoing through corridor.

Tears welled in your eyes as you heard Dean's admission of self-hatred and despair. The pain in his voice cut through you like a knife, stirring a mixture of emotions within you. Part of you longed to reach out to him, to offer him solace and forgiveness. But another part of you recoiled at the memories of the trauma he had inflicted upon you, the scars that still lingered both physically and emotionally.

Taking a deep breath, you silently retreated from the hallway, the weight of the conversation heavy on your heart. You knew that healing would take time, for both you and Dean.

Another week passed, the weight of the unresolved tension between you and Dean hanging heavy in the air. Despite Sam and Cas's efforts to provide support and comfort, sleep continued to elude both of you. And as Cas had to leave to attend to other matters, leaving you without his comforting presence, the nights grew even longer and more restless.

One evening, as you stood in kitchen, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting shadows across the room, you reached for a beer from the fridge. Your mind was consumed with thoughts of Dean and the tumultuous emotions that swirled within you.

But before you could retreat to the solitude of your room, the sound of footsteps drew your attention, and you froze as Dean entered the kitchen. The air between you crackled with tension, the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved emotions hanging heavy in the silence.

As you found yourself alone with Dean in the very room where he had caused you so much pain, a wave of fear washed over you, paralyzing you in place. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs as though it were trying to escape the confines of your chest. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as you pressed yourself against the cold surface of the kitchen counter, seeking any semblance of safety and distance from the man who had once been your everything.

For Dean, seeing the raw fear reflected in your eyes was like a dagger to his heart. The weight of his past actions bore down upon him, crushing him with the knowledge of the pain he had caused you. His own eyes filled with tears as he watched you retreat, his heart breaking at the sight of your distress. Seeing you pressed against the kitchen counter, seeking refuge from him, shattered him in a way he hadn't expected.

"I'm so sorry", Dean whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he took a hesitant step forward, his hands trembling at his sides. "I never wanted to hurt you. I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen".

His words hung heavy in the air, filled with the weight of his sincerity. But he knew that mere words could never erase the pain he had caused you. He longed to reach out to you, to offer you solace and comfort.

As Dean took another step forward, his expression wrought with anguish and regret, you held up a trembling hand, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger.

"Don't… don't come any closer", you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a palpable sense of urgency. Your cheeks were wet with tears, your entire body trembling with the weight of your emotions. Every fiber of your being recoiled at the thought of him drawing near, the memories of his past actions haunting you like ghosts in the night.

"I can't… I can't do this", you continued, your voice wavering as you struggled to maintain your composure. "Not now, not ever. You… you've broken something inside of me, Dean. Something that can never be fixed".

Your words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the irreparable damage that had been done. The distance between you felt insurmountable, a gaping chasm that stretched on for eternity.

Dean froze in place, his heart breaking at the sound of your trembling voice and the anguish etched across your tear-stained face. He longed to reach out to you, to wrap you in his arms and beg for your forgiveness. But he knew that he had no right to ask for such mercy, not after what he had done to you.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, (Y/N). Not after everything I've done".

His words were heavy with resignation, his gaze cast downward as he grappled with the enormity of his mistakes. The pain in his eyes mirrored your own, a reflection of the shattered pieces of both your hearts.

"I just… I just want you to know that I'm sorry", Dean continued. "I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make things right, even if I never earn your forgiveness".

As Sam stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes half-lidded with sleep, he froze in his tracks at the sight before him. The scene that unfolded before his eyes sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins, instantly banishing the remnants of sleep from his mind.

The sight of you, standing there with tears streaming down your face, your eyes wide with fear, pierced through him like a knife.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?", Sam's voice was soft but urgent as he rushed forward, his eyes flickering between you and Dean, who stood nearby with a look of devastation etched across his features.

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. His instincts told him that something was seriously wrong.

With a sense of urgency, Sam stepped forward, his gaze never leaving yours as he reached out a comforting hand. "Are you okay", he asked, his voice filled with concern. "What happened?".

With a shaky voice and a forced calmness, you respond to Sam, "Nothing, Sam. Nothing happened". But the tremor in your voice and the haunted look in your eyes betray the truth of your words.

Before Sam could press further, you turn abruptly and practically flee from the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest as you race towards the safety of your room.

As the door slams shut behind you, the sound reverberates through the quiet bunker. Inside the confines of your room, you collapse onto the bed, tears streaming down your face as you try to quell the storm of emotions raging within you.

Meanwhile, Dean stands in the kitchen, his fists clenched at his sides as he stares at the spot where you had stood only moments before. The silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the sound of his ragged breaths and the steady thud of his heart.

With a growl of frustration, Dean lashes out, his fist colliding with the wall with enough force to leave a sizable dent. Pain shoots through his hand, but it pales in comparison to the anguish that gnaws at his soul.

Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as he sinks to the floor, the weight of his remorse pressing down upon him. He had thought that seeing you again would bring him some measure of closure, some semblance of redemption. But all he had accomplished was to reopen the wounds he had inflicted upon you, tearing them open with brutal force.

In that moment, Dean feels utterly lost, adrift in a sea of regret and self-loathing. He had shattered the one thing he had cherished most in this world, and now he was left to face the consequences of his actions alone.

As Dean sat on the floor, his back against the wall, Sam approached him cautiously.

"Dean, man, are you okay?", Sam asked softly, his voice tinged with worry.

Dean looked up at his brother, his eyes bloodshot and filled with tears. "No, Sam, I'm not okay", he admitted, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't think I'll ever be okay again".

Sam sinked down beside him, mirroring his brother's posture as they both sat in silence for a moment. "Dean, what happened between you two… it wasn't your fault", he said gently.

But Dean shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No, Sam, you don't understand", he insisted. "I hurt her, Sam. I hurt her in ways that I can't even begin to comprehend. And now… now I don't know how to fix it".

"Dean, you need to forgive yourself first".

Dean's voice trembled as he spoke, the weight of his words heavy with shame and self-loathing. "How am I supposed to forgive myself, Sam?", he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How can I ever look her in the eyes again, knowing what I did to her? How can I live with myself, knowing that I… that I raped my own girlfriend because I was a fucking demon?".

Dean felt like he's drowning in a sea of guilt and remorse.

"Sam, you don't understand", he said, "This… this is worse than anything I ever experienced in Hell. Worse than purgatory. Since I've been back, since I'm no demon anymore, the pain of what I did to her… it's unbearable. It's like a constant weight crushing down on me, suffocating me. I can't escape it, Sam. I can't escape the guilt, the shame, the remorse. It's consuming me from the inside out".

"I don't know how to live with myself, Sam", he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every day, every moment, I'm haunted by what I did to her. And the worst part is… I know I don't deserve to be forgiven. I don't deserve to be happy. I don't deserve anything".

Sam's heart broke for his brother, knowing the depth of his pain. He reached out, wrapping Dean in a tight embrace, offering what little comfort he can. "Dean, listen to me", he mumbled softly, his voice filled with conviction. "I promise you, we'll find a way to make things right. But you have to hold on. You have to keep fighting".

For a moment, Dean allowed himself to lean into Sam's embrace, seeking solace in the comfort of his presence.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 3

#jensen ackles #dean x you #dean x reader #deanwinchtser #sam and dean #dean winchester #castiel #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #sam x reader #dean winchester x y/n #demon dean x reader #demon dean #hurtful #angst

320 notes · View notes

fablesam · 1 month ago

Text

picture you ;; sam winchester (part two)

cw;; smut!!!! bloodplay, biting, demon blood, violence, angst, dark!!! sam

a mere week after your first meeting, you and sam had learned each other in and out. you’d, more importantly, learned the solution to your overarching question. the two of you had worked tirelessly to find the truth about your abilities, if your theory was correct about demon blood increasing your power.

you could see sam starting to slightly spiral, hardly sleeping, his desperation growing with each step you took in the right direction. he’d told dean he met someone, and that he wanted some space, a chance to ‘do his own thing’ for a while. this was, judging by dean’s reaction, incredibly out of character for him, but you didn’t argue. it was what you’d always wanted, the two of you alone in your apartment, totally invested in each other.

you were sat on the edge of your bed, brushing your hair after a shower when sam entered your room, a borderline manic excitement in his eyes. “i figured it out,” he told you, pacing as he read from his journal. “we can summon a demon here, trap it in a devil’s circle. then we can extract some of its blood, store it to drink from, and send it back to hell. it’s the safest way, it’ll make sure you don’t get hurt,”

you felt a pang of sadness that he wasn’t even worried about himself getting hurt, but it was overshadowed by the happiness you felt that he’d considered you in his plan. “summoning a demon seems a bit extreme,” you said after a moments contemplation, “are you sure about this, sam? i don’t want to do anything we can’t take back,”

he came to your side, dropping the journal beside you, taking both your hands in his and looking down at you. “this is what you wanted,” he said pleadingly, “don’t you want to see what we’re capable of? let me show you,” he pressed a brief, searing kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours, “we could be so much more, just like you said. you showed me the truth, so let me show you the way,”

you nodded, lost in the trance of his soft brown eyes, swept up in the feeling of his hands on yours. he could’ve told you to do anything in that moment, and you were sure you would’ve. you were, not for the first time, grateful that sam was so good at his core. if he’d wanted to, you feared he could’ve had anyone submit to him, had anyone do his bidding. but if you knew sam, and you definitely did, he would never.

he was all the goodness in the world, wrapped up in your own personal daydream. sometimes, it seemed impossible that such a shining example of purity had demon blood running through his veins, the same as you. he always had your best interest at heart, always worried what the consequences of this journey would come to, always thought about how this might affect dean. it only made you love him even more.

“we’ll do it tomorrow,” he told you, sure as anything, “is that alright? are you ready?” you pulled him down to you, so you could rest your head on his chest from your seat on the bed, breathing in the scent of him. it never got old, the smell of chai and cedar and rain. “i’m ready,” you mumbled into his shirt, eyes closing as he stroked the back of your hair lightly, a contentedness you’d never known flowing through you, “are you scared?”

you didn’t have to look up to no he shook his head, “no, i’m not scared,” he murmured, “i guess i’m just curious. it feels wrong, still, but i know i’ve just been conditioned to feel that way. we shouldn’t be ashamed of anything,” “that’s right,” you hummed, “should we get some sleep?”

he nodded, untangling from you, kissing the top of your head gently before going to the couch, where he’d insisted on sleeping the entire week. he’d been so adamant about not moving too fast, not taking advantage of you. it had only solidified your belief that sam was, inherently, better than you. you watched him go, tucking yourself under the blankets, ignoring the worry forming in your stomach.

when you woke in the morning, sam was already well at work, clambering around your living room holding objects you’d never even seen before. “sam?” you yawned quietly, “what’re you doing? what is all this?” he turned to face you, as if he’d been caught, “just some things for the summoning. i have it all ready, i think, i just have to arrange everything,”

you paused to actually look around, noting the taper candles lit on your floor, the encircled star scribbled onto your ceiling. “what is that?” you asked, unable to tear your eyes from it. “devils trap,” he said like it was the most natural thing in the world, “i’ll have to say an incantation to summon it, and we need to get it under that circle, okay? i just need you to stay back, i’ll take care of everything,”

you forced yourself away from the setup, nodding, “and you’re sure about all this?” you asked hesitantly, “i mean, really sure?” he smiled slightly, nodding, “i’m positive. you know i wouldn’t do anything dangerous, right?” “of course, sam,” and you really did know that. you trusted him more than you trusted even yourself, for in some ways, he was more yourself than you were.

he pulled you into a hug, his chin resting against your head, his arms circling you. “everything’s gonna be fine,” he said softly, “can you go in your bedroom for me? don’t want you to have to see this,” you pulled back just enough to look up at him, pupils dilated from his closeness, “wanna help you,” you said surely, “this isn’t your task, sam. it’s ours,”

so you watched as sam paced the room, journal in hand as it had been the night prior, the candlelight making him look more angelic than usual. he’d cut a small incision on his wrist, letting the blood drip out into a copper bowl, placing it in the middle of the circle before he started reading.

the energy in the room was palpable, an uneasiness spread through your apartment that you hoped would clear up soon, when all this was done. “daemon, esto subjecto voluntati meae!” he finished, and with that, the candles were out, an eerie stillness in the room. you looked to sam, eyes wide, when you saw it out of the corner of your eye.

not so much an it as it was a fully fledged man, looking as human as you or sam, adding to your already heightening sickness. “sam winchester,” the thing said, “if you wanted me here, all you had to do was ask,” the voice was so painfully real, so clear, so human, your bones ached with the chill that came over you.

sam’s jaw tensed, and he took a step closer to it, so precise and calculated you didn’t even notice as he succeeded in his plan, backing it under the devil’s trap. “finally giving in?” it sneered, “gonna come home, sammy?” his eye twitched at this, and you thought for a moment his focus might break, but it only seemed to get more intense.

“don’t call me that,” he snapped slightly, hands trembling, “i need you for one thing, and that’s it. then i’m sending you back where you belong,” “oh, i’m cowering in fear,” the demon said sarcastically, turning to take a step towards sam, but seemingly stopped by an invisible force. he looked up, irritation clear on his face as he discovered the trap, his jaw nearly as tense as sam’s. “so what’s your angle here, boy?” he asked, one eyebrow raised, “gonna kill me, hm?”

“not gonna kill you,” sam took a step closer, the knife in his hand catching the light streaming through your window, “just hurt you,” you couldn’t tear your eyes away as he slashed the thing’s wrist, an animalistic howl leaving it’s mouth. sam looked to you, and without any words passed between you, you knew he needed the bowl. you hurried to his side, handing him the copper bowl he’d used to summon the demon, watching, entranced, as he let the thing’s wound trickle into it. your pulse increased with every drip-drop of the thick blood, your mouth watering in a way that almost horrified you.

you had to resist the urge to surge forward, to take what your body so clearly craved, more concerned with obeying sam’s request than you were with drinking from the source. when the bowl was filled, you watched with a distant fascination as sam read more from his beat up journal, and the only evidence that the demon had ever been there was the ichor on sam’s hands.

“are you alright?” were the first words that left his mouth, as if he hadn’t just summoned and dispelled a demon right in your living room, as if this was all completely normal. “i’m fine,” you nodded, eyes still focused on the bowl of blood in his right hand, “are you alright?” a small smile crossed his lips, and he nodded, “i’m fine, sweet girl,” he led you back a few steps, free hand on your lower back as he guided you to sit on your couch.

you sat down, looking up at him with expectant eyes, “do we drink now?” he reached down, his left hand resting on your cheek lightly, cradling your face, “you’re so desperate, aren’t you? so brave,” he hummed, his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip, “open your mouth, alright? if you start to feel anything that scares you, you tell me. can you do that?”

you nodded, feeling almost dizzy as he instructed you, anticipation making you giddy and electric, “i can do that,” you said softly. “that’s my girl,” he smiled softly, hand shifting to your jaw as he brought the bowl to your mouth, resting it between your lips. you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before opening your mouth, letting the blood trickle onto your tongue.

the very second it hit your bloodstream, you were on fire. a soft sound, almost a moan, left your throat as you opened your eyes, enjoying drinking in the sight of sam watching you almost as much as you were drinking the blood. “is it good?” he murmured, looking as blissful as you felt, “do you feel good, sweet girl?” you just nodded, too drunk on the venom to respond, and a whine of protest left you as he pulled the bowl away slowly, as if he was tapering you off of it.

“sam,” you panted softly, “god, it feels-” you stopped, unable to even describe it, to even do it justice. it felt like you had been in a coffin for a decade, like you were finally free, like someone brought you back to life after years. it felt like heaven and hell had collided inside you, like you were a vessel to something far greater, like everything you’d ever gone through had led you do this very moment. you watched as sam drank from the bowl, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, a groan muffled by the liquid. he was messier than you had been, scarlet drops down his throat, and when he pulled the bowl away, you nearly whimpered at the way it shined on his lips, the pink skin tined a deep red.

you thought he’d never been more beautiful than when he smiled down at you, his teeth tinted pink. “oh,” the sound was almost too much for you to bear, the breathless whine that left his throat, “this is everything,” “sam,” you whispered, afraid if you spoke fully, you might cry from the intensity, “it’s so much,”

“oh, i know,” he murmured, his hand returning to your jaw, the other tracing through your hair gently. you were slightly startled by how much better he seemed to be handling it, but you were entirely too far gone to worry over the implications, “you’re gonna be just fine, baby. this is how we’re meant to feel,”

before you had time to question it, or too even think twice about his statement, he was pulling you up, his lips on yours in an instant. you kissed him back with a fever, your hands coming to wrap around his shoulders, all six foot four of him being pulled even closer to you. he turned, never pulling his mouth from yours as he sank into the couch cushions, pulling you into his lap like you weighed nothing.

your entire body was alert, your back arched into his touch, his hands trailing over every inch of your skin. “you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled as he pulled away, trailing kisses down your jawline, biting gently at the delicate skin of your throat, “so fucking perfect,”

you knew logically this couldn’t be heaven as you tilted your head to give him more access, blinking up at the devils trap still on your ceiling, but it didn’t make you believe it any less. nothing between you was holy, you knew that. this was something else entirely, each kiss and mumbled curse awakening some sort of ancient, dangerous power inside you. you could swear you felt the earth shift as he rolled you over, laying you back on the couch, kissing down your chest like a man possessed.

your hands were in his hair, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you looked down at him with heavy lids and glossy eyes, “want you so badly, sam,” you murmured, “come kiss me again,” he smiled up at you, looking deceivingly soft for just a moment, reminding you of the first few visions, “i’ll come kiss you again, you impatient girl,” he scolded, a soft tease in his voice, “just busy right now,”

he pulled your pants with him the lower his kisses trailed, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps along your hips and thighs, “you want me here?” he hummed, pressing his fingertips to the now soaked cotton of your underwear. you nodded almost frantically, too worked up to be embarrassed by your neediness. he smiled against the skin of your thighs as he pulled the material off of you, tossing them into the floor without a second glance.

no, neither of you were holy, but you could’ve died and gone to heaven or hell with sam’s mouth on you, wasting no time before he was lapping you up just as he had the blood. he groaned against you, his hands digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises.

“sam,” you moaned, back arching off the cushions, your hands pulling at his hair desperately. you weren’t even sure what you were begging for, too far gone from the feeling of him paired with the newfound power coursing through your veins. he pulled away just long enough to readjust his arms, continuing to lap at your clit as he sank two fingers inside of you, curling them just where you needed him. “oh, god, sam,” you whimpered, your nails scratching at his scalp. he pulled back, gazing up at you with your wetness coating his lips, “god’s not here, baby,” he tsked, “it’s just me and you,”

your eyes rolled back when he took your clit into his mouth, sucking and licking a long stripe against you. the feeling of his fingers stretching you out and his devilishly skilled tongue was enough to have you coming undone, his name falling from your lips like some desolate prayer as you rocked your hips against his face, all but grinding on him as you rode out your high.

he pulled his fingers out slowly, holding eye contact from between your thighs as he took them into his mouth, taking his time sucking them clean. you could’ve come again from the mere sight of it, from the idea of him savoring the taste. he crawled back up to you, kissing you hard enough to make you dizzy for a moment, the lingering taste of the blood combined with the taste of you making you moan into his mouth.

he reached between you, pushing down his jeans and boxers with one hand, the other holding him up as he kissed you. “you want me to fuck you like this?” he murmured as he kissed your cheek, such a soft movement in the frenzy of need, “or you wanna ride me, hm?”

the desire to see his face, to watch him underneath you as he came, had you pushing his chest gently, pushing him back to sit down. he grinned up at you, his eyes hazy, hands settling onto your hips as you moved to straddle him. you reached between you, taking him in your hand, barely able to wrap your fingers around the width of him as you pumped him slowly.

his eyebrows knit in pleasure, his head tipping back onto the back of the sofa, his breaths growing heavier. seeing him like this, coming unraveled from your touch, made whatever sickness you both had so incredibly worth it. you rested one hand on his chest as you slid down onto his thick cock, kissing him to hold in your gasp at how much he stretched you.

he bit your bottom lip as he kissed you, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips as he bucked his hips into you, moaning into your open mouth. he licked the blood from your lip, sucking it into his mouth, holding you there as he fucked up into you. you were a mess above him, your head thrown back as you rode him, grinding your hips down for some friction.

“you feel so fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely, pulling your head down to his neck, wrapping an arm around you to hold you, “like you were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” “i was,” you pant against his skin, sucking little marks down his neck, “yours, sam,”

“i know you’re mine,” he mumbled, thrusting into your harder, pulling your hair just hard enough to make you look at him as he fucked you stupid. his lips found their way to your neck, biting gently, and you whined softly as he broke skin just slightly, enough to send a tinge of pain to the surface.

“got that demon’s blood pumping through these veins,” he placed another soft bite just above your shoulder, “bet i’d get stronger drinkin’ from you, baby. you think so?” you just nodded, too far gone to process his words as your hips rolled against his, gasping as he reached an even deeper spot inside you, “you wanna make me stronger, don’t you?” he hummed.

“yes!” you moaned, clenching around him, “yes, sam, fuck,” he smiled against you, thrusting into you harder, his movements slowing. he gave you no warning as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the feeling. “fuck,” he groaned into the bite, his tongue laving at the blood trickling out, “you taste so good, sweet girl,”

you could feel yourself getting dizzier as he pulled the blood from you, your entire body buzzing with alarm. “sam,” you whimpered, your hips slowing against his, “too much,” he pulled away, despite the frenzied look in his eye, pressing a gentle kiss to the area around his bite mark. “blood tastes almost as good as that pussy,” he mumbled as he pulled you into a kiss, his hand on the back of your neck as he quickened his movements.

your thighs were trembling, vision swimming as you came undone a second time, nearly screaming as he fucked you through it. “good fuckin’ girl,” he panted, digging his hands into your thighs, “so close, baby,” you rested your head on his shoulder, bouncing your hips just enough to get him to the edge, looking up only to watch his expression as he filled you. “oh, fuck,” he groaned, his brows pinched, cheeks pink and mouth tipped open, his thrusts slowing. you kissed him as he stilled inside you, tracing your fingertips down his arm, anything to keep touching him as much as possible.

he pet your hair gently, fingers running through the length of it, tenderness lacing his every moment. “is your shoulder alright?” he asked softly, trailing his free hand over the skin. “mhm,” you nodded, still catching your breath, “i’m fine, sam. was so good,” “yeah?” he smiled slightly, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, pulling you into his chest, “get some sleep, baby. you look like you’re about to crash,”

you just hummed quietly in response, nuzzling your face into his neck. the events of the day replayed in your fizzled brain, skin still tingling with the effects of the blood, your body aching. sam continued to stroke your hair soothingly, his other hand tracing down your spine almost absentmindedly. “gonna keep you here with me forever,” he said softly, almost too quiet for you to hear, “we’re gonna be so fucking strong, baby. you have no idea,”

you let sleep take you before you could question the tone in his voice, the darkness creeping into his tone. after all, you were the one who put it there.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fic #sam winchester smut #winchester smut #sam winchester x you #sam winchester #sam x you #sam x reader #winchester x you #winchester x reader #supernatural smut #supernatural fic #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #dark sam winchester #psychic sam #demon sam

81 notes · View notes

thewritergx · 2 months ago

Text

Caught: Evil!Sam x Demon!FReader

Summary: Blood-drinking Sam Winchester chases you through the woods and fucks you to death (literally).

Warnings: Evil Sam x Demon F!Reader. Smut Containing: Knife/Gun play, running through the woods, NONCON, Anal, Size Kink, Blood drinking, Choking, Crying, Spanking, Forced Orgasms, Death of Reader at the end. Pet Names: Princess, Slut, Whore, Bitch.

Word Count: 3K

Do not read if you are sensitive to the warnings. This is very much a non-consensual interaction. I cannot say this any plainer, do not read this unless you're into some weirdo freak shit.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me. Text divider from @cafekitsune.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, steps pounding at the wet dirt and grass. You weaved through trees, stepping over sticks and rocks. You couldn't stop. Stop and you are dead. Sam Winchester was hot on your trail, and if he caught you…You didn't even want to think about what could happen.

“Can’t run from me forever, little demon,” Sam yelled, his voice a good distance away.

Your chest was on fire after running for what felt like hours. Maybe you could take a break, his voice sounded pretty echoed. He must be far, you thought.

You leaned behind a tree, weight on your knees as you bent down trying to slow your panting breaths. You stayed quiet, trying to regain your composure when you heard a stick break a few feet away from you. Fuck.

How was he so fast?

You took off again, running deeper into the forest.

Sam knew he was close. He could fucking smell your blood. He listened for a while, hearing your quick steps as he chased you into the thickest part of the woods. He knew there would be no one out here. When he caught you, you would be powerless and all his to play with.

You tried to keep running, but you were so exhausted your pace involuntarily slowed with each passing minute. Fuck, you weren’t fast enough. He was going to catch you, you thought.

“Ah, there you are, princess,” Sam growled, watching as you ran right into his chest, hitting him like a brick wall.

You fell to the ground, hands landing on sharp sticks.

“Told you, you can't get away from me.” Sam raised his gun, shooting the ground next to you before you could try to run again. You gasp at the sound, the bullet landing a few inches from you.

“Stay down, bitch.” Sam walked closer, grabbing you and pushing you onto your knees.

“Sam, wait. Wait. Y-you don't have to do this”, you pleaded, fear filling your mind and body.

Sam hovered over you, his tall frame engulfing the moonlight. His eyes were dark, stoic in the night air. “I know. I don't have to do anything,” Sam huffed, his chest expanding with each breath. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him before throwing a hard punch on your face. Your ears rang and you hit the ground hard, your lip busted and bloody.

You tried to get up, tried to run but your vision was so blurry you couldn't stand. Sam dropped his gun before grabbing his knife, shoving you on the ground again.

“Ow, fuck you”, You spit, dirt on your lips as Sam slammed his fist into you again, your face landing hard in the soil.

Sam lowered himself, pushing himself over you as you lay helplessly on your stomach.

“Yeah, you’re about to,” Sam laughed, the smell of your blood thick on his mind. “Fucking slut”. Sam held the cold blade to your throat, watching as you wiggled under him, his thighs on either side of your legs.

“You know the best fucking part? No one will hear you, no one can save you.” Sam laughed. “You’re stuck out here with me, all mine to completely destroy and devour.”

“Don’t fucking move”, he growled, sliding the knife down your back. Sam lined the cold metal to the hem of your jacket, roughly cutting through it to expose your delicate skin.

“W-what are you doing”. Your voice was littered with fear, shaky as Sam placed a hand on your bare back, circling his thumb on the delicate skin.

You struggled under Sam, trying to buck your hips and legs as he pulled your arms back, forcing your jacket and shirt off you. The air was cold, and goosebumps formed on your skin.

"Cute little bar. Might keep it for later" Sam gently unhooked the clasp, folding it nicely before placing it safely on the ground.

“Stay fucking still or this is going to be a lot worse”, Sam breathed into your ear, biting at your skin. Your skin was on fire, wet dirt and leaves spreading on your tits and stomach. You tried to stay calm, tried to break away from his grip but Sam was double your size. You were completely powerless against him, the weight of his body easily pinning you down.

“Please,” you cried, the cold metal blade pressing against your back.

“Bet you taste so fucking good. Such a nice little vessel you're in.” Sam dragged the blade down your spine, cutting into your skin. “Wonder if she can feel this right now”.

“Stop! Get off me!” You screamed, hot blood running down your back.

“Usually, I would have killed you already”, Sam whispered into your back. “But God, this girl you're wearing, she looks so pure. So nice that I just can't stop myself from ruining her little body.” He leaned down, licking a thick stripe through your blood and sucking at the skin, cut open and dripping for him. “Think I’m gonna leave you alive a little while, fuck you til’ your blood runs dry”.

“No, no, no. Please, y-you can’t” Sam’s teeth dug into your skin, biting at the wound he had just created.

“Aw, is my little demon scared?” Sam smirked, blood spread across his face. He cut at you again, the knife on a sinister mission.

“Perfect,” Sam whispered, admiring the S.W., carved into your skin.

The foreign sound of a belt buckle unclicking echoed in the quiet woods. Sam became eerily quiet and mute as you continued to cry and plead for him to let you go. Sam shuffled over you, pulling the belt through his pants loops before dropping it next to you.

“Shh, play nice and I might just let you out of this at the end,” Sam whispers in your ear, lightly caressing your hair and kissing your neck.

You nod your head, finally accepting the situation you found yourself suffering in.

“Good. Good little whore.” Sam’s voice is now soft and relaxed. His hands travel to your ass, cupping your cheeks over your jeans. He scoots down, pulling himself off your body so he can rip the thick denim material down, leaving them bunched up under your knees.

Cold air strikes your now bare skin and you swallow hard, heart pounding harder than your earlier footsteps. His hands traveled to your waist, pulling you back on him and arching your ass off the ground.

“Look at those pretty panties,” Sam hisses, dragging the knife to your folds. “What’s this huh?” Sam’s jaw clenches and he presses the dull end of the blade in between your lips, pointing out the wet spot created by your dripping arousal. You feel him grab the thin material, ripping it off your body with his bare hands.

“You must like this, fucking dirty girl” Sam pulls you harder against him, grabbing your hands and placing them behind your back. You can’t help but rut against him, the large bulge in his pants pressing against your clit.

“I-I d-don’t. Please just let me go”. Tears stream down your face, your back stinging and leaves crunching with every movement you make.

“Why would I do that? You’re nothing”. Sam’s fingers work quickly, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. "Nothing, but my little cum dump".

Your breathing hitches as he pulls his jeans down, pulling his dick out.

“No! D-Don’t, please. Please don't put that in me.” You scream, kicking your feet as Sam grabs his dick. He snakes his hand under your waist, pulling you off the ground as he teases your clit, rubbing the head of his penis against your clit.

You clench your eyes shut and push your hands back, placing them against his stomach.

“Shut the fuck up. Move your goddamn hands before I fucking break them,” he growls, pressing the tip of his penis against your tight little hole.

“Pl-please,” you whine, quickly removing your hands and returning them to their previous position on your back. You feel Sam press against you and your eyes widen, the feeling of his thick tip already stretching you out. Fuck, he was huge.

“Oh fuck,” Sam presses against you, opening your legs wider as he sinks in deeper, bottoming out inside you completely.

“Stop, please”, you cry, tears streaming down your soft rosy cheeks.

“Aw, pretty girl doesn’t like my dick?” Sam laughed, quickly leaning down to wrap his thick fingers around your neck. He thrust into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size. “You may not, but I bet your vessel is loving this. Do you feel how wet she is? She’s already creaming my fucking dick, painting it all white.” Sam spoke through gritted teeth, each thrust landing hard on your cervix.

“Sam, p-please just l-let me go. I-I won't tell. I swear, I'll do-” Your eyes shoot open in fear as Sam squeezed around your throat, pressing so hard you couldn’t breathe in or out.

“S-s” You tried to speak, his grip growing tighter and tighter until you were seeing stars, all dizzy and the light in the room fading.

“Hey, no passing out on me,” Sam growled, quickly removing his hand. “How would I be able to hear those pretty cries if you're knocked out?”

You breathed heavily, coughing as he finally let go, his fingers leaving dark bruises behind. You try to calm down again, but the way he was thrusting into you was driving you crazy.

“Fuck!” you screamed, feeling that familiar tightening in your stomach.

“See, I know you fucking love this cock. Feel you tightening around me. You're about to cum, huh? Go ahead. Cum on my dick, you stupid fucking slut”, Sam leaned down, biting your neck so hard you felt him drawing blood. His sharp teeth pierced deeper into your skin, hot breath on your neck as he licked and sucked the open skin.

“Ahh, ow!” You scream, your voice echoing off the trees. You hated that he made cum, hated that you couldn't stop the pleasure forced through you.

“That’s a good little whore. Like when I fucking rape this cunt, huh?” Sam shoved himself deeper. “Say you fucking love it.” He yelled, slapping your ass hard.

“Fuck you,” You cried, voice filled with venom.

Sam grabbed the belt from your side, quickly slapping it hard against your asscheek. “I said, say you fucking love it”. He slapped you again, your skin screaming for help, bright red lines marking you.

“I-I l-love it,” you whispered into the ground, tears falling into your mouth, leaving behind a taste of salt.

“Louder. Like you fucking mean it,” Sam hissed, slapping the belt against you so hard it drew blood.

“Ow! Okay, I fucking love it! I love your huge dick fucking me,” You wailed, throat dry and voice hoarse from running.

“Such an obedient fuck slut.” Sam threw his head back, eyes clenched as he pulled comply out of you.

“Wonder if you’d like it that much…here” Sam pressed against your ass, your tight hole clenching as he shoved a thick finger inside. “I bet this vessel never got her ass fucked before.” Sam laughed, pumping his finger in and out, stretching you like you never had been before. “She’s fucking tight, huh.” He laughed, shoving another finger inside you.

“No, y-you can’t. It's too big”, you yelped, trying to pull yourself off the ground again.

“Stop”, Sam demanded, his tone littered with anger and hatred for you. He grabbed his gun, placing it against your temple as he lined his dick up with your ass.

“Stay fucking still and I won't shoot you,” The cold metal pressed against your skin hard. You trembled, your legs shaking and you swore you were going to throw up.

“Yes sir,” you nodded, forcing yourself to arch your back again, perfect position for him to sink inside you.

“Good”, Sam’s voice is plain, emotionless as he presses into your tight puckered hole.

“OW!” You yelp, his thick cock stretching you. Your skin burned and it felt like he was ripping into you.

“F-fuck” Sam slammed into you, your freshly used walls clenching around him so tight he almost couldn't move. “Yeah, this ass is all mine. Never had anything like me before,” he smirked, watching as his dick disappeared inside you, balls pressed against the soft fat of your ass.

He snapped his hips, a hard slapping sound echoing in the air. Your eyes rolled back, and the feeling of him pressing so deep, practically in your stomach, was too much. Fuck, it was torture but you craved more, your body easily opening from him to pump in and out of.

“Please, j-just take it o-out.” You were exhausted completely. Even at full strength, you would have never been able to fight him off. “P-please, Sam. Ju-just c-cum”. You begged and pleaded for him to finish.

Sam gripped the gun tighter, pressing it against you impossibly harder. He dragged it down your body, finger on the trigger. He thought about not shooting you, he really did. But he knew it would be so pretty watching you bleed out on the ground as he fucked you. So before he could think, before he could stop himself, he was pressing the trigger, a bullet ripping through your smooth skin and into your chest.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Your only thought about how stretched out and deep Sam was fucking you as you choked on your own blood. You couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop the orgasm ripping through you as you bled out, your legs shaky and week.

“That’s it,” Sam growled, his hips spurting out of rhythm but still impossibly deep. “Dumb fuck toy, letting me do whatever I want to her”.

Sam huffed, throwing the gun on the ground and digging his fingers into your sides. He watched as your blood pooled, your choking sounds sending him into euphoria.

“Fuck” His grip tightened around you and he bit his bottom lips hard, thrusting deep and finally painting your walls white.

“Such a shame.” Sam laughed, pulling out of you roughly, his cum dripping from your stretched-out hole. “Could have kept you around, but what would be the fun with a slutted out whore?” Sam watched as you withered on the ground, blood smearing all over him as he leaned against your ear.

“You were a good little fuck, though. Don't get me wrong.” He whispered, pressing his fingers inside the whole left by the bullet, pushing through your skin with a squelching pain. He watched as blood soaked his fingers, quickly licking the hot liquid clean. “Hmm, should have fucked that whole,” he mumbled, before stabbing you with his demon blade.

Your eyes shot open and white light shined from your body, killing you and leaving your vessel in the woods.

68 notes · View notes

nightxcreature · 3 months ago

Text

Unresolved

Summary: Reader finds Demon Dean on a hunt, but maybe she shouldn't have.

A/N: Trying another for @jacklesversebingo this one is Character Death.

Warnings: Death, Fighting, Unspoken pining/love, Demon Dean being a bit of an asshole? Angst

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader (Sort of?)

18+ ONLY

“Get away from me.” I growl as he pushes me harshly against the wall. My hands are pinned to my sides, his chest pressed to mine and his knee between my legs, making fighting back more difficult than I had bargained for. I twist against him, trying my best to wiggle out of his grip to no avail.

A low laugh rumbles from his chest as his hands grip my wrists roughly and flings them above my head, “Or what, Darlin’?” His eyebrows rise and a little smirk plays on his lips, “What are you gonna do all on your own?” His chest presses further onto mine causing my breathing to become labored as he tightens his grip on my wrists, bruises beginning to form under his fingers.

“Dean…” I manage to squeak out, “Please.”

He rolls his eyes and yanks my wrists from above us, using them to fling me into the opposite wall, “Sorry, Sweetheart, Dean can’t come to phone right now.” I fall to the floor with a grunt, my head spinning from the impact while he stalks over to me, bending down to grab my hair and pull me to my knees. He tugs me roughly by the roots, just high enough that we’re eye to eye, his flashing black as he grins, “Guess you’ll have to leave a message.”

I struggle against his grip, slowly sliding my hand down into my boot to wrap my fingers around the blade hidden there only to be met with his own fingers around my wrist once again. I whimper as he slams me into the floor and quickly removes the blade from my ankle, “I know all your tricks, y/n. Everything about you is floating around in this melon of his.” He taps the point of the knife against his own temple with a sick smile and squats next to me, a hand placed against my head as he runs the blade gently across my throat, “Has it not occurred to you that this will be so easy for me? That I just don’t care anymore?” A dark chuckle leaves his lips as he roughly grips my hair again, “He loved you, you know? Never said anything, thought you deserved better than him…” A gasp leaves me and I'm unsure if it’s from the shock of his revelation or from the beating I’ve been receiving at his hand, “You didn’t know? Funny, he didn’t hide it very well…even died for you a few times, didn’t he?”

I frown, staring up into his green eyes as he drops a knee to my side. He runs the blade up to my throat again and presses it into my skin causing me to flinch. This man that I recognize physically, that resembles every bit of the man I’d hunted with, fought for, and loved unconditionally, is a totally different person since taking The Mark, “Is he still in there?” I whisper, quickly regretting it as he frowns.

His jaw ticks and he rubs the back of the hand that grips the knife across his face, “Don’t try that shit on me, Doll.”

My frown deepens as my eyes narrow, “I think he is, and I’m gonna get him back.”

He laughs again, bringing his face down to mine. My eyes closing at the closeness; the feeling of Dean so close yet so far away. His breath fans my face as he speaks, “I don’t think you are.”

“You’re wrong. You love me.” I whisper urgently back, a hand slowly reaching up to grip the back of his head, “You love me.” Each word enunciated as we stare into each other. I can see a silent battle behind his gaze before his black eyes flash back to their usual green and I see a moment of recollection on his face before he blinks and they’re dark as onyx once more. A sharp sting runs through my abdomen as he smiles.

His wrist turns causing me to scream, his words barely registering as I reach up to pry his hands away from me, “No, he loved you. I never said anything about myself.” He glances down at the stain forming on my white shirt, that smile never leaving his face, “Thanks for bringing him to the surface for this little party though.” He sinks the knife further into my stomach before pulling it out and placing in one of my shaking hands as he stands, “I’ll send Sammy a Ouija board so you can let him know to stop following me.”

______________________________________________________________

Tags: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @enigmalynne @envysarchive @k-slla

#jacklesversebingo24 #supernatural #spn fanfic #spnfandom #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam and dean #demon dean

61 notes · View notes

connorsui · 5 months ago

Text

The velvet gown shimmered in the dim light as she held it up, eyes narrowing slightly.

“For you, my dear,” he smirked.

She arched a brow. “Something you expect me to wear?”

“…Yes,” he stepped closer, fingers grazing her shoulder. “I need you looking fabulous, so when you walk up behind me and kiss me on the neck, the players will be thinking about your neckline, not their cards. Do you think you can do that for me, my love?”

Her lips curved, leaning into him. “You know I will.”

The man in question: sylus, zayne, John Price, nanami kento, geto suguru, muzan kibutsuji, Logan Howlett, Sam Winchester, Joel Miller, Levi Ackerman, Cooper Howard, Leon Kennedy, Aizawa, Hawks, Daemon Targaryen, Colin Bridgerton

575 notes · View notes

whorefordean · 2 years ago

Text

not god // d.w

demon!dean x hunter!reader

wc: 1121

warnings: demon!dean (kinda mean but also i couldn’t bring myself to make him really mean), porn with no plot, p in v, slight degradation, fingering, unprotected sex (not a great idea), cringe writing probably (so sorry abt that)

a/n: the main reason i wrote this is bc i had a dialogue line (in bold) stuck in my head and i needed to write it. also it’s demon!dean bc i could only think of him when i thought of this line so yea :) also this is my first time writing smut so pls don’t be mean to me i’ll probably cry :))

MDNI

—————————————

you’re not exactly sure how you ended up like this, writhing under dean, waiting for him to make his move. his persuasiveness and the flash of black eyes when he asked you to come back to his room with him definitely played a part in it, you’re sure. you were about to decline his offer when he sent you a quick wink and a smirk. it was over for you.

your back is pressed firmly into dean’s bed. he had already pulled your shirt off before you had even stepped foot into his room, leaving it crumpled in the hallway of the motel he’d been staying at. he’s placing rough kisses against your neck and down your chest as he works to shimmy you out of your shorts. he quickly pulls them down your thighs and tosses them off to the side. dean moves his kisses further down your body. he stops at your panties and breathes in your sweet scent. as he slowly pulls your legs apart, he smirks at the wet spot already forming on your underwear.

he hooks his finger against the cotton material and pulls in to the side. he runs his thumb through your slick folds, and he watches your eyes flutter as you lean your head against his pillow.

“dean, please,” you begged breathlessly.

“we haven’t even started, and you’re already falling apart,” dean spoke in a mocking tone. you wanted to be angry at his taunting, but his thumb was pressed to your clit, halting any remarks you were about to make.

dean quickly inserted two fingers into you, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly. you had whispered out a quick oh fuck before pulling your bottom lip under your teeth.

dean continued to curl his fingers into you, watching you spiral. you held your breath as your thighs shook, riding out your high for as long as you could.

you whimpered, mind hazy as dean pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you with an empty feeling. you watched with your mouth slightly agape as dean took his fingers into his mouth. he swirled his tongue around his wet digits, soaking in the way you taste.

“fuck me,” you whispered to yourself as you watched dean. you didn’t think he heard you since he was pulling his shirt over his head. that was until he looked at you with hungry eyes.

“i’m getting there. such a slut, you just can’t wait?,” he teased ruthlessly. you felt your cheeks redden at his response, but it turned you on anyways. you watched as he pulled off his belt, pants, then boxers. he smirked when he caught you staring at his length.

the two of you were silent as dean moved you onto your stomach. you could feel his eyes burning a hole into your back. his eyes scanned over the dip on your back down to the swell of your plump ass. he inhaled sharply before giving it a rough smack.

you had gasped. it was unexpected. but not unwelcome. dean takes his dick in his hand. he rubs his tip through your folds, spreading your slick all over.

your breath hitches in your throat as dean’s heavy cock enters your wet cunt. he gives you no time to adjust as he starts thrusting his hips into you from behind, slowly at first.

your gasps are quick to fill the room. his grip on your waist is sure to leave marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. you’d gladly cover bruises if it meant he’d keep fucking you just like this.

“fuck, sweetheart,” dean breathed out. his head was thrown back, savoring the way you felt around him.the drag of his cock through your tight cunt had you reeling. you were a moaning mess underneath him.

your left hand is wrapped tightly around his forearm directly beside your head, holding up his weight. your cheek is buried into the soft sheets on dean’s bed. you can smell him all around you, pushing you further into euphoria.

your heart is beating so hard, you fear you might faint from the pleasure he’s giving you. you clench around him after a particularly hard thrust. your small whimpers are echoing through the room.

“you sound so pretty, sweetheart,” dean’s deep voice sends a new wave of wetness dripping down your thighs onto the sheets. he reaches around your body to toy with your clit.

“aw, look at you. so wet for me,” dean continues mocking you as he continued fucking you. he lifts your hips, allowing him further access to your soaking core.

“oh god,” you cried out as he hit your sweet spot. without hesitation, dean’s hand is around your throat pulling you up so your back is against his chest.

“not god. dean,” he hissed into your ear. you moan out upon hearing the anger in his voice. he continues fucking into you roughly. his hand on your throat moves to rub right circles on your clit. your hand wraps around his arm again to steady yourself.

your hips jerk back into dean. your back arches slightly, pushing you further into him. you have tears brimming your eyes, the pleasure of a second orgasm too much.

“dean,” you warned. he shushes you softly before answering.

“i know, sweetheart. let go for me,” he whispers sweetly in your ear, thrusting a few more times before releasing into you. he watches as you shake under him for the second time.

dean pulls out of you and slowly lays you back onto the bed. he’s quick to clean himself up, leaving you in the aftershock of not one but two orgasms.

“you know for someone who claims to hate demons, you sure were easy to get in bed.”

dean’s words cause your heart to drop. you stare at him silently as he continues.

“oh, come on, y/n. did you really think this meant anything? you’re not that dumb,” dean speaks so condescendingly it makes you cringe. not because it’s true, but because he’s so wrong about this.

“you’re not the only one who enjoys a quick fuck, dean. we both wanted to get laid. that’s it,” you scoff, pulling yourself off the bed to slip your own clothes back on.

it’s dean’s turn to stare at you. you wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. you move to exit his room but stop before turning the doorknob.

“oh, and next time, because there’s always a next time, don’t be so nice. you know i like it rough,” you wink at him. dean sends you a quick smirk before pressing a hard kiss to your lips.

#dean winchester smut #demon!dean #demon!dean smut #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #sam winchester

658 notes · View notes

ultravi0lence14 · 10 days ago

Text

SMALL TALKS

DEAN WINCHESTER X DEMON!READER

WARNINGS: nothing!! just pure, tooth rotting fluff that will also make you yearn for dad!dean

SUMMARY: with majority of their children being in school, little monster and dean have their plates full with keeping each of them out of trouble.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

the truck door slammed behind dean and his little monster in the passenger seat, your face turning to his as he heard a soft sigh leave your lips. what had just transpired at the school had been shocking, seeing that you and dean strived on the fact that your children tell you everything.

lily and milo had been picked up by sam and his wife the second you and dean got the call, knowing that this visit to the school was going to be one without a three and two year old attached to your hips. the car ride was silent, soft chatter filling the space when clara and lincoln were picked up from their middle school, but that was it.

there was a grace period in which the two of you could drop the eldest children off at home and wait until the little’s need to be picked up from their elementary school. it was mostly filled with you and dean talking about what course of action you’d take with the phone call, but it was also listening to clara talk about her day and how her history teacher was out to get her.

when the clock struck 3pm, the truck was rumbling back down the road, headed to an impending conversation that dean never thought he’d need to have in his life. he never thought he’d ever have children, better yet ten foster ones, so when his little monster got a call that one of their children had gotten in a fight, he knew that this was going to be a big moment in his parenting journey.

by the time it was 3:15, five out of six of his children were in the car. luke and sam were babbling to each other about pokémon or god knows what boys their ages talked about, sadie was showing you the drawing she made in art class, marley was eagerly listening to her sisters rambles while adding in her own little commentary, and then there was scarlett, sitting behind your seat and longingly staring out the window.

dean was watching her intently, seeing the remnants of sadness on her cheeks. it was evidentially clear that dean’s little scarlett was thinking about two things; the mean words that the cruel boy sneered at her today, and how bad of a punishment her twin brother thatcher was going to get for defending her.

that is what the call had been about. apparently, a boy a year older than scarlett had cornered her on the playground, spewing hurtful words about how she was taken in by you and dean like an unwanted mutt. the poor girl had already been in tears by the time the boy had said her real parents never wanted her, and thatcher had already been reaching for the boys shoulder from behind.

from what the principal explained to you and dean, the blows thatcher delivered to this boy were brutal, and a broken nose and severely bruised eye had been left in the wake of the nine year olds rage. no one talked to his siblings like that — heck, no one talked to his twin like that without hearing back from him.

he’d been taken down to the principal’s office, and the call had been made. this had all been around twenty minutes ago, and dean still remembered the view of thatcher’s arm around scarlett’s shoulder, her tiny hand clutching his tightly in the rearview mirror of the truck.

his son was fiercely protective, and dean couldn’t even be really mad at him for what he did.

but as the last of the children left the car, scampering up the gravel of the driveway, you and dean looked at each other, a look that spoke a thousand words. you two weren’t even mad at thatch; that little boy had it coming for what he said to scarlett, and someone had to teach him a lesson. but as parents, you needed to make sure your kids knew that violence was never the answer.

as much as the two of you resorted to it most of the time.

“dean i don’t know what to do,” you finally said, breaking the silence and scrubbing a hand down your face. “this has never happened before. and as much as i would love to tell thatch that i’m proud of him, i know as parents we can’t do that.”

a laugh tore from dean’s lips, rumbling in his chest as he grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth and running your knuckles across in a feather soft motion. “i know baby,” he breathed, holding your hand tightly in his grasp. “but as much as he should know that looking out for scar is important, he also needs to know that sometimes violence isn’t the answer.”

“this is really rich coming from us.” you chuckled, and dean couldn’t agree more. you were a demon for hell’s sake, he a hunter. violence was in your nature, and there was a gnawing feeling in dean’s gut that thatcher got his keen sense of violence from his daddy.

a smile graced dean’s lips, and in a feeble attempt to get to the conversation at hand, he leaned over the centre console and opened your door, leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek before he spoke softly in your ear. “cmon little monster, let’s go do some hard core parenting.”

thatcher had been sitting on one of the lawn chairs in the backyard, spine still and hands placed delicately in his lap as he thought about the days events. that’s where you and dean had found him, and it stirred a solemn feeling in your gut that your little boy felt so broken up when all he wanted to do was protect his twin sister.

it was his birthright to protect. he and scarlett had come into the world together — albeit thatcher three minutes earlier, and it would be a cold day in hell before he saw his sister cry at the hands of false words.

you and dean had been standing at the back door, waiting for a good moment to interfere when thatcher’s voice broke through the tense silence. “i would do it again y’know,” he spoke clearly, turning his head slightly so his side profile was on display to you and dean. “and not just for scar, for all of my siblings.” a lump rose in your throat, a sudden realization that you had raised your children to be kind and good people, someone who people could trust.

“i don’t care that majority of them aren’t my blood siblings,” thatcher continued, ringing his hands together as you and dean stayed silent. “they’re my family, you’re my family. you guys were there for me and scarlett when things got tough. so was clara, link — heck even milo and lily.” he giggled at the end of his statement, and you couldn’t help but let a teary giggle out as well.

“what i’m trying to say is that all of you mean the world to me, and i would beat up as many bullies as i need to just to make sure that my siblings are smiling.”

the pitter patter of your feet running over to where thatcher sat was the first sound to be heard, your sniffling the second. you lunged at the nine year old boy who was way too wise beyond his years and engulfed him in a hug from behind. kisses were planted on his forehead, and the idea to say violence was never the answer went completely out the window.

“you might not be biologically ours,” you spoke into his ear, ruffling his hair as you spoke. “but you will always be our son, always have a special place in me and your dads hearts.” your words were followed by dean’s hand resting on thatch’s shoulder, the boy in question turning his head to look at his father.

“you are mine and your mothers son through and through, thatcher winchester; and i’ve got some tricks to teach you if more bullies try to mess with scarlett or any of your other siblings again.”

thatcher just smiled, resting his head on dean’s shoulder as you nuzzled your face against his. “i love you mama, i love you too papa.”

and at once, dean winchester knew what peace was. he felt it in the loving embrace of his little demon, in the arms of his ten foster children. he felt it in the beautiful home you and him created as a safe space for your children, and he finally understood what normalcy felt like.

TAGS: @titsout4jackles @starzify @floralscented @deansbeer @bluemerakis @deanangel @haunteres @figthoughts @gibson-g1rl @foolinthera1n @whisperingdaze @honeyryewhiskey @misatxox @a-lil-pr1ncess

NAT BABBLES: i love post szn 15 dean having a litter of children and living happily on a farm with his lil monster☺️

#little monster #titsout4jackles #dean winchester x demon!reader #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #ultravi0lence14 #supernatural x reader #imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader

182 notes · View notes

night-night-stories-before-bed · 4 months ago

Text

A horned protector

Warning ⚠️ ; Cursing, mention of past character death, abuse of alcohol, blood.

Pairing; none, reader is inside a male body

Summary; You don't enjoy it, and neither do the brothers, but the three of you are stuck together because of their father. John Winchester outsmarted you, binding you in a deal to watch and protect his sons. Well, only Dean. And tonight, you are doing just that.

Ps; I did not mean for this story to be this long. Hope y'all like a long read!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Being a demon wasn't always easy or fun. For example, you were stuck with two hunters who despised your existence and wanted nothing more than to kill you! So why stick around? Because their father had outsmarted you on a deal. You were still mad about it.

You had known and tormented John Winchester for years. You used to have fun stalking him during his hunts or just following him and messing around. You could remember that time you followed him on a vampire hunt, exaggerating everything; the sneaking around, the search for clues. You even put on a Sherlock Holmes costume!

Oh, how John hated you! He even once tried to run you over with the Impala. It was good memories. Well, until that night when John summoned you specifically on a crossroad. It was shocking and unexpected.

You could still remember the seriousness and solemnity in his eyes as he made his deal with you. That upon his death you would watch and protect his sons against Azazel. Well, mostly Dean. For some reason, John had put an emphasis on protecting his eldest boy. But there had been a trick; that he could still make a deal with another demon if its meant protecting and or saving his sons.

You hadn't believed it would happen. It was so precise!

And then it did.

John Winchester had died and the deal had to be followed.

It had been a few years and you had failed not once, but twice. Sam had been stabbed to death and Dean had made a deal, ending with his soul being dragged into hell. Yes. You had failed miserably and it was pitiful. You had given your all even when the boys had tried to kill you, you stayed around to watch over them, but it was as if an outside force had been against you.

It intrigued you, especially now that you had learned about the so-called ‘prophet’ the brothers had met and who was a writer. That Chuck had written about their life, even about you, which had been both a surprise and shock with how accurately he had been describing some events. It also made you wary. What other capacity did that man have? Could he hurt Dean and Sam?

Those thoughts were on your mind as you walked toward the brother’s motel room. The Impala was parked in front of it, guiding you in the right direction. The boys were hunting something, you didn't really pay attention to what, for the past week. They were lost in the middle of Texas on a full moon and you could tell it impacted them differently.

Sam, bless his heart, stayed happy and festive researching their monster restlessly. You hadn't seen him for the past two days but knew he was fine thanks to Dean.

Dean who was the one taking it the worse. While he kept smiling for his little brother you saw the emptiness behind his eyes, the way he clenched his jaws and how his nights were filled with nightmares. Dean didn't know you knew as you came only when they slept by fear of either getting shot or stabbed.

Well, except tonight.

You had gone out of your way to get the boys more supplies for their hunts after seeing they were getting low. Silver bullets and knives, salt and you even braved the Church to get some holy water, burning your hand on the process. But it was a small price to pay if it could help keep the Winchester brothers alive.

The bag hanging on your shoulder, you moved your free hand to unlock the door the the brothers’ room, calling for Dean.

- “Hey pieface, guess what I got for y'all!”

You barely finished your sentence when a shadow mover in front of your eyes. You barely had the time to duck, dropping the bag, before pain exploded in your face.

Hand clenched tightly around Dean’s wrist, your demonic eyes stared at the eldest brother with both amusement and pride. You chuckled as you forced Dean to remove the knife from your cheek. A few inches more and you would have dropped death.

- “My, my! Look at the mess you are making Dean.” You said, your demonic eyes turning to the blade as blood poured out of your opening cheek. You could feel the flesh hanging against your jaw, exposing your teeth. “Better clean it up before Sammy comes back.”

- “What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean asked, snatching his wrist out of your grip.

- “Bringing you some gift!”

You bowed down, grabbed the bag and shoved it in Dean’s arms. You watched him walk to the table and drop everything on it. You could smell the scent of alcohol clearly, almost as if you had the bottle right under your nose. You frowned, watching closely as Dean examined everything.

The eldest brother was clearly tipsy now that you watched more attentively. You clicked your tongue annoyed with how careless Dean was. You knew how he had a lot on both his shoulders and mind, but the bottle wasn't the answer. Yet, you said nothing, your eyes looking around to see the bottles of beer and other alcohol around the room.

With a wave of your hand, you moved them all together before proceeding to clean. You felt Dean’s gaze staring holes in your back and almost laughed, but didn't. You just remembered what day it was.

Today was the anniversary of John Winchester’s death.

You sighed softly as you put the last bottle in the trash back before turning your attention to Dean. He had dropped down on the bed, feet hanging from the mattress and his back turned to you. For a second you imagined him as a small pouting child, which he kinda was. You didn't want to know just how bad the situation would turn out when Sam would come back…

You left Dean pouting on the bed and went to take care of your face. Grabbing a needle and some thread you stitched your cheek back together before taking off your shirt and washing it in the sink. You didn't want to trigger Sam with the smell of your blood, knowing how hard the boy had worked to get ride of his addiction.

Clean, you walked out of the bathroom to get ride of your blood that had fallen on the ground. Still on the bed, Dean stared at you, eyes clouded by the alcohol. You clicked your tongue like a disappointed father before looking at him.

- “You are on a hunt, Dean. Why are you drinking like that?”

- “Fuck you. Get out of our room.”

You rolled your eyes and threw away the blood-soaked tissues before making a knot in the bag.

- “Yeah, I will. For five minutes. I’ll be right back.”

Carrying the trash bag, you went outside. The air was heavy and humid and there was no breeze. You saw no one else outside and yet still felt like you were being watched. Frowning, you hurried to throw away the trash. Looking around you, you couldn't see anything alive. Not in the trees or on the ground nor in the sky.

But the feeling was still there.

You weren't alone out there.

Grinding your teeth, you went back inside and locked the door. The sound had Dean sitting on the bed staring at you angrily.

- “What the fuck are you…” Dean tried to ask before you interrupted him.

- “Shut up. We are not alone and something was outside watching me.” You said, grabbing a shotgun and throwing it at him. “Get ready, I bet its about to get messy.”

That was enough to sober up Dean who grabbed the gun and got up, joining you in the middle of the room. Your eyes were glued to the window even if the curtains were closed. Next to you, Dean was calling Sam to tell him to come back as quickly as possible.

He didn't mention that you were there.

Outside you heard the gravel crunching as something walked around in front of the door and window. Immediately Dean raised his gun, ready to shoot if anything tried to enter. You waved your hand, turning off the lights, trying to make you two as discreet as possible. You could still see clearly, unlike Dean.

The sound of footsteps became quieter until then silence was all that was left. Dean’s breathing was the only thing you could hear and neither of you moved nor dropped your guard. It wasn't over, you knew it. Whatever was outside had watched you and saw where you went.

It knew you were in there.

You moved, ever so slightly, keeping Dean behind you. Whatever that thing was, you didn't want to take the risk for Dean to be hurt. Not only because of your deal with John but also because Dean had been drinking. His reflexes weren't going to be as fast as normally.

- “Oi fucker, what are you doing?” Dean asked, voice barely audible.

- “Honoring my deal with your father, pieface.” You replied with a chuckle.

The next seconds passed in a blur.

The sound of broken glass filled the room as a growl broke the silence of the night. A shadow jumped between the curtains ready to pounce on you and Dean. Without thinking you raised your hand and sent the thing flying against the wall. Dean didn't lose a second and immediately shot at it.

The monster moved before any bullet hit it.

Knowing what was to come, you turned your attention on Dean. With the same trick, you sent Dean flying out of the room by the broken window. The young man screamed and you smiled as the creature tackled you to the ground, fangs and claws digging in your flesh. You didn't scream, fingers finding the thing’s eyes and pushing them deep.

Warm blood pulsed and rolled down your hands and wrists as the creature howled in pain. You didn't let go and kept digging, feeling the eyes break under your fingers and nails scratching the bones.

You gasped and coughed as blood and brain matter splashed all over your faces. The sound of a gunshot echoed in the room and the corpse fell on top of you. Groaning, you pushed the carcass off top of you and sat, disgust painted all over your face. You turned your attention toward the window where Dean stood, shotgun still pointed on the dead creature.

- “We need to go, now. Cops won't be long to get here and I don't want to have to explain this mess. Grab everything, I’ll get the car ready.” Dean said before walking away.

Not questioning him, you did as told. Within a minute you had gathered all the brothers’ belongings and the things you had gotten for them. The next, you sat next to Dean as he drove you away to go get Sam. The silence was heavy and even you didn't dare say a word. There was something, like a fragile balance, between the two of you. So fragile that a single sound would brake it and make Dean snap.

Which happen even if you didn't said a word.

The eldest Winchester hit the break and before you could ask what he was doing, his fist collided with your already injured jaw. Then another fist followed and another. It took you a few seconds to realize that Dean was crying, his whole body shaking with each sob. You couldn't make out what he was saying, but guessed he was cursing you like always.

You didn't defend yourself, allowing Dean to just let it all out until you finally caught a few words. Your fault. Didn't do enough. Abandoned us.

He wasn't hitting you.

He was hitting what you represented.

No.

Who you represented.

His father who hadn't been present. His father who had been so hard and rough on him and who, in the end, had died before they could talk about everything. John had died leaving Dean without ny closure.

Dean hadn't been drinking because he was sad, but because he was angry.

After a few minutes, you gently grabbed Dean by the shoulders and he stopped. In your hands, you could feel his body shaking with every sob. If you could still feel emotions, the sight would have broken your heart. But you were a demon. You had lost your humanity a long time ago.

You both kept quiet. Dean by shame, you because you didn't know what to say. Dean drove away until you came across a familiar car; the one Sam had used to go to the library. You stopped again and Sam jumped in, abandoning his car. The door was barely closed that Dean was off again.

- “What the fuck happened to you?” Sam asked you, leaning between your and Dean’s seat.

- “Got a visit from your friend. I don't think he loved me much!” You said jokingly, waving your hands to show your wounds. “Sorry for the smell sweetheart.”

- “Anyway. What are you doing here?” Sam asked after a few seconds of silence.

- “I came to give y'all a bag of ammunition and other things y'all could use during your hunts. I saw how low you were on your inventory.”

Sam looked at you in surprise and suspicion. Of course, the youngest would wonder if you were doing it for another reason than to help. He looked at his brother, expecting Dean to deny what you said, but when his brother said nothing, Sam simply nodded and thanked you.

Slowly, they were learning to trust you. After all, you never lied to them, not even once. And in the future, you would be the only one to do so. Unknown to you three, there would be even more tragedy and danger to come, but you would be there, always.

You would be their horned protector until it killed you.

#supernatural #x male reader #male reader #x gn reader #gn reader #dean winchester #x reader #fanfic #reader #sam winchester #angst #demon

75 notes · View notes