#sam!brother

You’ve been having these kinds of nightmares for weeks. Since you got possessed by a demon during a hunt. He took control of your body for several days until your father and Dean exorcised him out of you.

Although the demon possessed you for less than a week, he murdered over a dozen people. He derived on their deaths, making sure each time you went through his victim’s every broken bone and heard every muffled scream.

You could still feel their blood on your hands even after weeks had gone. Their lifeless faces followed you with every blink.

You blamed yourself for the demon’s every victim, but you were incapable of admitting it to your father or uncle.

“Are you ok? I heard you scream...” You looked at Dean’s tired face. You scanned the room for the other pair of worried eyes. When you didn’t spot your father, you looked back at the older Winchester.

“I’m fine, ok, really. Just I... I think, just...” You hesitated, “Nightmares, I guess.” You gave him an apologetic look.

You didn’t need to wake him up. He already had bags under his eyes and had trouble sleeping. You hoped not to be a burden during this challenging time. “Dad didn’t wake up?” You questioned your father’s absence.

The Winchester brothers were known for many reasons. Besides their hunting talent and strong head, they were also known for one more thing. Very shallow sleep.

If Dean got up, Sam should’ve as well.

Winchester grinned and moved closer to you. The tiredness left his face altogether, and his fake smile made you shiver.

“He woke up...” He nodded at the unconscious man lying next to your bed. “Not for too long,” not knowing if it was because of the lack of sleep or a sudden wake-up call. You didn’t notice your father lying two feet away from you.

Terrified, you looked at your uncle, who smiled as wide as he could.

“So Y/N ...” He sighed as his eyes turned black. “Where were we?”

You woke up in a completely dark room, desperately grabbing your throat. Nobody woke you, no one came, and you haven’t screamed.

Your heart was still pounding. You could barely see the faint outline of the bunker bed in your room.

Were you still dreaming?

Was it a dream at all?

You didn’t know. That terrified you the most.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, you turned on the table lamp. You tried to calm your unsteady breath while the heart rumble rang through your head.

You wanted to tell yourself that you were awake, that you were safe. Trying to feel the floor with your bare feet, you felt its texture and temperature. You couldn’t calm down. It felt like Dean’s black eyes were drilling through you every time you closed yours.

“You were sleeping. You need to calm down.”

You were mumbling to yourself repeatedly.

“Are you sure?” This time, you heard your father’s voice from behind you. Seeing a man covered in blood, standing on the other side of the room as you turned.

He looked like your dad, but you knew it wasn’t him. You watched him as he crept over to your bed, smiling, playing with a dagger in his blood-covered hands.

You tried to run away, to move and, to scream… but you couldn’t. You were stuck in one place as if tied to it, watching your father, standing by the edge of your bed.

“You know, Y/N, your mom and I had many, many shared memories and dreams. I loved her so much,” you could have sworn that for a moment, he showed sorrow, which quickly turned back into a lifeless expression.

“You know which memory is my favorite?” The corner of your mouth twitched. It hurt you listening to his breaking voice. Although you knew he was playing games with you.

“You know how your mother died?” He moved closer to you, making the distance between your faces smaller than a few inches.

“DO YOU?!” He screamed, and you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. You closely followed the dagger, waving barely an inch from your neck.

“She died…” He hissed with such disgust you have heard no one express. Despite it not being your father, the sound of his trembling voice broke your heart. “Because she gave birth to you...”

You could feel pure anger gushing out of every word from behind his clenched teeth. With each passing second, you saw the knife in his hand inch closer to your neck.

“No...” all that came out of you was a mumbled, hoarse sound.

“And you know what?! YOU WEREN’T WORTH IT!” He screamed, staring maniacally into your scared eyes.

“You weren't worth her bleeding to death!” He growled, putting a dagger to your throat,

“It wasn’t worth her dying in agony so you could breathe!” He pressed the knife down as he hissed at you with contempt.

“No, stop...” you said louder this time, choking on salty tears. “Please...” you pleaded while shaking your head.

“You’re not worth her.” You felt warm blood trickling down your neck.

You jumped out of bed, and you grabbed your throat, trying to find any trace, wound, or anything that would confirm the visit of a demon in your room.

It couldn’t be a dream.

Everything felt so real.

You thought you could still feel his dagger against your throat.

You put your hand under the pillow on which you were sleeping. You tried to feel the cold material of the cushion to calm yourself down.

You stopped moving it when you suddenly felt the sharpness of your dagger. You always kept it with you, just in case.

Is this happening?

You touched the blade and hesitantly removed it from under the pillow.

You had to be sure.

Is what I feel real?

You pressed the dagger to your wrist, exhaling quickly and cutting the skin on your forearm.

A sharp wave of pain woke you up.

After a second thought, you moved the blade again, this time slashing deeper. Blood began to weep from the wound. You let out a sigh of relief.

It’s happening.

I’m safe.

Ironically, the sight of blood helped you relax. After a while, you wiped the cut and put the dagger away. Forcing yourself to close your eyes and turn off the light, you laid down and fell asleep.

That night you dreamed nothing more.

***

The next day, you followed the scent of burnt pancakes that, as you guessed, were supposed to be your breakfast. As you entered the kitchen, the odor struck you unpleasantly, filling your nostrils.

“Holy shit...” the curse slipped out of your mouth as you saw your uncle scoop the burnt cake out of the pan. He squinted at you.

“Language,” he grunted, scraping the burns off the pan. “Turned around for a second to watch Dr. Sexy and Boom. Can’t trust anything these days ...”

You giggled as you walked over to him and took the utensils, trying to save his unsuccessful attempts to clean the dish.

“What is that?” He asked, pointing to a long fresh slash on your forearm. You froze with a spatula in your hand, looking at him with a slight concern.

“Nothin’...” you preferred not to talk to your uncle about the aftermath of the hunt. You’ve already heard enough, “I told you so” recently. The hunt was a soft spot between you two, and you weren’t going to add another argument in his favor.

“Mhm, and I’m Queen Elizabeth. Let me see,” He grabbed your wrist and turned your forearm to get a better look. He looked up and scanned your face with a serious expression.

“Sam! Come here quick,” Dean yelled, calling your father. Great.

“I said it’s nothing.” you tried to free your hand as your father entered the kitchen.

“What’s up” Sam sent his brother a questioning look as he continued to chew on the sandwich he was holding. Dean lifted your forearm with a telling look. Your father put the sandwich on the counter and took your hand, confused. “Y/N, did you do that?”

You shook your head and sighed as they released your hand. Both brothers looked at you with concern, waiting for your answer.

“If Dean would’ve let me explain...” you grunted, “He would’ve known that I cut myself with a coat hanger last night” the smooth lie made your uncle roll his eyes

“Coat hanger, my ass...” He huffed while looking at your hand. Sam seemed to sigh with relief.

“Why would I do this to myself, then...” You questioned Dean. He just looked away in embarrassment before shaking his head

“Teenagers…” he cleared his throat and returned to bustling about the kitchen

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go change.” You took a couple of ready pancakes from one of the plates and shoved one of them into your mouth, smiling playfully, "and I’ll try not to get involved with a rack this time,” you said with your mouth full and winked jauntily.

Your dad chuckled as you left the kitchen, and Dean just mumbled something about how awful kids are these days.

***

The following nights were like the latter. Waking up from a nightmare, panic attacks, calming down using a blade. Sometimes two cuts were enough, sometimes 10 or more.

The texture of blood on your fingers was like air to you. When the entire world spun around you, it helped you breathe and think.

Some days you would cut after arguing with your father, and other times after a bad day at school. When you felt overwhelmed, it sobered up your thoughts.

You weren’t doing anything wrong, right?

After all, minor cuts were better than what your family used as coping mechanisms. Drinking their thoughts away and losing themselves in the shooting range.

You chose the better alternative.

It was your way of taking care of yourself, of them.

***

“Oh, fuck you… You’re just a sad and lonely old man who has an issue with someone being honest!” You yelled as you ran out of the main room, trying to escape your fight with Dean. Again.

They were more frequent over the weeks. You pushed yourself away from your family, trying to hide the panic attacks and reoccurring nightmares from which you had suffered. Secrets that had been getting bigger and bigger disconnected you from the ones you cared about.

You were becoming less comfortable in the bunker every day. You didn’t know if it was still your home.

“Y/N M/N Winchester, get back in here!” You could tell he was furious. This time, you hit the spot. Your fight started caused by some minor thing about the case and quickly turned into a confrontation. It always gets heated between you two. You were just sick of him. Of everything.

“Fuck you!” You slammed your room door and kicked it. You weren’t sad. Oh no, you were pissed off, furious. So frustrated that you could take it out on anyone.

You knew your uncle wouldn’t come trying to ease things out for some time. He’d want to cool down first. Both of you tended to say awful things that you would regret later. You two had a silent agreement to stop the fights early on, not letting things escalate even more.

Frustration took over your body, throwing books, pillows, and everything laying in your way.

Maybe it was a family thing, having awful anger management issues.

The spinning feeling in your head didn’t help soothe you as you laid down.

You found yourself holding your dagger, pressing it hard onto your right forearm.

One

Two

Three

Breathe

You exhaled deeply as you felt the hotness spread over the cuts.

Breathe Y/N, breathe.

Realization hit you as you opened your eyes in horror. Looking at the growing red stain on the white sheets.

Fuck.

Dean was supposed to come here. You didn’t know when he could’ve been on his way to your room or opening another beer.

You had to clean it up. The sheets, yourself, your clothes. You had to be quick and stop the goddamn bleeding.

Without hesitation, you wiped the blade on the edge of your shirt and hid the dagger under your bed. You just had to go to the bathroom quickly, right? Just wash your clothes, change the sheets with no one noticing, and somehow wash them before Dean sees it.

You were in deep shit.

In no time, you were in the bathroom washing your wounds and changing into a sweater.

Faster, please faster.

You begged in your head while bandaging the cuts. You couldn’t let Dean see them. Anyone but him.

“Y/N?!” You heard your uncle calling your name.

Fuck.

“Y/N, why is there blood on your bed?!”

You couldn’t lock the door because you realized he’d break it down without hesitation. Coming up with a Plan B was your only option.

You took off your pants and sat on the toilet, taking one pad from the cabinet. You bent over your stomach as Dean burst into the bathroom.

He froze seeing you on the toilet. You threw the pad onto his chest as he realized what it meant.

“Thank you for telling everyone I’m on my fucking period,” you grunted as the embarrassed man slammed the door shut and mumbled an apology.

You hated lying to him, but you told yourself it was better for all of you. You knew he was just worried, that he didn't mean to hurt you.

But you convinced yourself that if you handled this on your own, it would be better for all of you.

You knew the truth would hurt them. Not knowing you were doing it yourself.

***

During the last month of spring, you easily managed to wear long-sleeved flannels, sweatshirts, and sweaters without arousing any suspicions. Covering your hands this season was normal, right?

You were drenched, wearing a sweatshirt and a T-shirt. The first hot day of the year turned out to be your undoing.

You knew that in summer, you had to find other spots on your body to presume your habit. You just didn't expect that the heat waves would come so quickly.

You and Dean have been giving each other the silent treatment for two days now. You haven’t spoken a word to him and it seemed like he wouldn’t bother to do so either.

Sam already gave you a lecture on how you shouldn't talk like that to either of them. But you weren't going to apologize to older Winchester, not in a million years. He was too stubborn too, so you were just ignoring each other. The game of who will break first. It definitely wasn’t gonna be you.

You were already sitting in the library reading Volume III of some series about Demonology when the brothers entered the main room. You smiled at your father, completely ignoring your uncle. Sam looked at you in surprise and gesticulated at your clothes.

"Aren’t you too hot in that?" You shrugged as you scanned Winchester’s clothes, both of them were wearing only T-shirts, which is the least you have seen them wear, probably ever. And yet they were still visibly hot

"Nah..." You replied casually.

You. Were. So. Fucking. Hot.

You felt your T-shirt being completely soaked and drops of sweat forming on your forehead.

“You look sick...” your father replied, touching your forehead with his hand and checking your temperature. “You’re awfully hot and soaked. Take the hoodie off. You’re gonna get overheated.” You just nodded at his request, expecting them both to go back to their conversation.

Hearing the still-present silence, you looked up, confused.

Your father stood over you, waiting. Dean’s gaze was drilling right through you. You can’t take your sweatshirt off. You have to think of something. Now.

“I’ll pass. I don’t know about you guys, but extra layers are just fine.” You smiled faintly, wanting them both to drop the subject.

“Y/N...” You heard your uncle’s voice for the first time in two days. You looked at him in surprise. You didn’t feel the satisfaction you thought you would when he broke the silence between you two.

“I said I’m fine,” you said through gritted teeth. Maybe if you’d fight again, they’ll let it go. Dean walked over to Sam and leaned on the table in front of you. You wanted to bury yourself in the chair, surrounded by Winchesters scanning you with their eyes.

“Y/N, take it off,” your dad ordered

“No.” You said stubbornly, looking into his eyes, because what are they going to do, force you?

“Take it off, or we’ll take it off of you,” Dean said firmly, eyeing you up and down. Fuck. You had no choice. Maybe you can manage out of this somehow. Think, think...

Your dad took your wrist. You raised your other hand in a sign of defeat.

“Ok, just because you asked so nicely” You tried to lighten up the mood but they both kept their expressions serious.

You picked up the sweatshirt from the bottom, putting it over your head. You took it down to your elbows, shrugging casually.

“Take it all off,” Sam ordered crossing his arms over his chest.

You didn’t know what he expected, but definitely not what he saw as you removed your hoodie.

Before that day, you didn’t wonder what this part of your body looks like to others. You hadn’t thought about how they would react when they saw your wounds because you assumed it would never happen.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of cuts, scrapes, and burns covered your forearms. Showing it made you realize how it actually looks.

“Oh God...” Sam whispered emptily. You knew you let him down. He wasn’t supposed to worry. Everything going on in your head was supposed to stay there without tormenting your family. Pain and shame paralyzed you. You felt tears run down your face.

Your father fell to his knees in front of you and gently embraced your hands.

“I’m sorry...” was all you managed to say as you gasped for air between the sobs.

You failed him.

You failed them.

“Y/N baby…” He said, then kissed your wounds. The new ones from yesterday, the minor scratches from pens or fingernails, the already healed wounds, and the recently made ones. He kissed them as if they would vanish after it as if he could heal all wounds by holding you.

You felt Dean hugging you from behind, stroking your hair gently. You rested your head against his belly, sobbing harder and harder. Sam hugged your hands, stroking them gently while Dean rocked you, letting you let everything out.

They stayed like that until your breathing stabilized, and you sniffed loudly.

“I still see them…” you mumbled, looking into your father’s sad eyes. “Everyone I’ve killed, sometimes I can’t tell the difference between what he showed me and what’s really happening,” You breathed shakily as you turned to Dean. “It makes it go away,” you shuddered, remembering the black eyes from nightmares.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, bug,” sighed the older Winchester, stroking your shoulders. “I’m sorry for being so harsh.”

“No, I’m sorry I- “you gasped. “I’ve let you down. You shouldn’t have seen it. None of this is your problem” You rubbed your eyes as you let go of your father’s hands, and he sighed deeply.

“Y/N, look at me,” He said, moving loose strands of hair from your face, putting one hand on your shoulder. “I have nightmares too. Pretty nasty ones and visions of everything that happened. “You looked at him with glazed eyes, “And I know it hurts more than words could ever describe it” He stroked your cheek. “But I also know that I wouldn’t manage. I wouldn’t be here if I was going through it alone.”

You exhaled shakily, taking Dean’s hand, feeling their warmth. And for the first time in weeks, truly experiencing their presence. “And it gets easier, it really does. I know, I have you, I have Dean. And that helps me get through it. “

The older Winchester squeezed your hand as he felt another teardrop fall on it. “None of this is your fault. You hear me? And don’t say that what you feel is a problem. It’s our job to be here and take everything with you. Because we’re family. “

Sam wiped another tear from your cheek as your lips twitched. You saw Dean kneel next to you, looking gently into your teary eyes. “And it’s gonna be hard. Hell, probably even worse. But you don’t have to take it all on yourself. You don’t have to hurt yourself to live through it. We’ll be here walking with you every step of the way. “He hugged you as your eyes began to tear up again.

Being embraced by your family, the weight on your chest and shoulders slowly getting lighter. You felt safe and genuinely happy for the first time in a while.

And you finally felt like you could get used to it.

You were fighting with your thoughts. You didn’t know if you could trust your own memories. Your brother wouldn’t have done such a thing to anyone, especially you.

But you could’ve sworn that it was him this night.

Tiredness took control of your wounded body, letting your concerns fade away with every heavy blink. After a little while, you fell asleep.

A flutter of wings from the hallway woke you up completely.

“Y/N?” A familiar tone cranked you up.

“Come in,” you said with a hoarse voice. The door opened slightly, and a tall man in a long trench coat approached you. He looked worried and tired, like everyone around you.

“What are you doing here, Cas?” You asked while yawning and rubbing your swollen eyes.

“I’m here to heal your wounds... And see if you’re okay.” You nodded while he crouched next to you.

“Can you... can you somehow make me forget about what happened?” Cas looked at you with flack written on his face.

“Y/N, do you remember closing Lucifer in the cage by your brother? After he got his soul back? It was so damaged that those visions of hell could kill him. Dean made a deal with Death so he would erase his memories of hell...”

You nodded, and he continued.

“And even this wall in his mind made by Death himself. It didn’t save him from what was hiding there... I’m just a fallen angel with broken wings and a lack of grace. I’m not capable of doing that, but I wish I could.”

You nodded, trying not to move too quickly, not to hurt yourself. The man put two fingers on your forehead and closed his eyes.

The pain slowly declined, making you lose the tension in your bones. You smiled at him because you felt better.

Castiel gave you a confused look and drifted away from you.

“What?” You asked while your smile was fading away. “What’s wrong?” You furrowed your eyebrows and got up from bed. “Castiel-“

Before you could finish, the angel disappeared, leaving you standing confused in the middle of your room.

***

After a few hours of trying to fall asleep and waking up from nightmares, you had to leave your room to wash off yourself, yesterday’s dirt and blood, which was still covering your skin.

You left your bunker room and gently closed the bathroom door behind you. Meeting your brothers was the last thing on your wish list.

You took a long, hot shower, washing every inch of your body. You let yourself focus on the sound of running water while forgetting, just for a moment, about yesterday’s events.

***

After you dried yourself with a towel, you wiped off steam from the mirror.

Swelling around your eyes became less visible. All the bruises and cuts were gone, but you could still fill them on your skin.

Seeing your naked body made you shiver. Looking at it reminded you of what you were through. Touching your skin reminded you of hands grabbing it just a few hours ago.

‘What if he got me pregnant? Maybe that was the reason Cas was so upset?’ You felt light-headed, and your legs gave out under this thought. You sat on the toilet, desperately trying to catch your breath.

Anxiety built up in your chest as you grabbed your throat, desperate for air.

It can’t, no.

This wasn’t your fault, you knew it, but guilt that crept around your mind made your heart beat faster.

You? Teenage girl having a baby.

Panic took control over your whole body. Shivers ran down your spine as you desperately tried to cover yourself. You tried to calm your breathing down for a good few minutes.

***

You got up from the bathroom floor after a while. You were about to grab a towel when you heard a loud bang followed by a man’s moan.

You quickly wrapped a towel under your arms and grabbed a gun you always kept near yourself. Without hesitation, you rushed to the bunker’s major library, which was the source of the sound.

You brushed silently through the dark hallway close to the wall. You hid in the shadow. Your heartbeat was so quick that you could hear it rumbling in your own chest.

Everything you were thinking about in the bathroom was meaningless right now. One thing that counted at the moment was protecting your brothers.

When you carefully came into the room, you saw your eldest brother tied to a chair. Blood was covering his face and shirt.

Sam was standing right in front of him. His brother’s blood covered his knuckles. He was panting from tiredness.

He raised his hand, preparing for another hit. You looked at him in panic and screamed, trying to stop him.

“Sam! Stop, you’re hurting him!” You dropped your gun and rushed to your brother, trying to get his attention.

Sam looked at you in shock. Before he could say anything, someone behind your back interrupted him.

“No, he isn’t” A familiar tone made you jump and turn around immediately.

You saw your oldest brother standing behind you, with anger in his eyes.

Despite all these gathering emotions, you’ve just been empty. Washed out of memories. Now anger has shut off anything else, the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

People always look for the guilty after a tragedy... trying to find the cause.

Some blame doctors, some God, and some take it on themselves.

But you weren’t looking for the guilty in no man. You found him in a monster that preys on the misfortune of others. If you pulled the gun, you wouldn't feel guilty.

If he had one, you wouldn't feel bad for his family. You’d be relieved to kill that bastard.

You’ve killed monsters many times before. Every death left you having second thoughts. You believed that nobody was purely evil. Nothing was really black or white.

But this was different. After a moment, your hand stopped shaking, and the tears that ran down your cheeks withered, not blocking your vision anymore.

You were ready.

You switched off the safety on the gun and looked at your brothers.

They both had poker faces, washed off of any character. But you ignored it. That shapeshifter wasn’t like the others.

You turned back to the bound man and raised the gun to his head.

You would pull the trigger

You would do it, in that exact moment, not letting him explain anymore. You would kill him on the spot, in cold blood.

If not for the limp hand, the arm barely sticking out from behind the large bookcase. You immediately recognized it was Sam, noticing the watch you gave him for his birthday years back. A dark red pool of blood surrounding it.

They did something to Sammy

Suddenly, it all made sense. You looked at the tied man with surprise written all over your face. He recognized your expression and grinned slightly, as much as his swollen face would allow.

You turned around, proving your theory. He didn’t have his watch on. You turned one last time towards the tied man.

“Y/N, do it.” ‘Dean’ said, crossing his arms over his chest, “NOW!” He screamed, giving you goosebumps. You had to choose.

The sound of a gunshot filled the room. Ringing in your head.

You shot.

“YOU LITTLE BITCH!” ‘Sam’ hissed as he grabbed his arm flowing with blood and smoke.

Shapeshifters.

You felt a hard fist hit your cheekbone, sending you to the ground. You didn’t even notice when the gun disappeared from your hands as the monster you shot crushed you to the ground and punched you in the face.

Between the waves of pain, you caught Dean’s struggling and screams. Not of pain but pure terror.

Both shapeshifters were standing over you two. One pointing his weapon at your brother, the other punching you.

They wanted Dean to watch, see you suffer.

You could not break out from under the giant; you struggled and kicked, trying to break free, and the monster laughed terribly.

He pinned your hands over your head and pressed his legs against your torso. You stared in shock as he dug his fingers into the gunshot wound and pulled the bullet out. The hole in his arm healed immediately.

He pressed against you again. You felt his hardness, and you went completely stiff. No, this can’t be happening. Not again, not again-

“It’s my turn to play now,” He growled, sliding his lips over your barely covered breasts.

“LEAVE HER, YOU SON OF A BITCH” Dean screamed, struggling, screaming in horror.

“Don’t worry, we’ll finish with her soon,” His double muttered. “You’ll know how it felt,” He said through gritted teeth, “Watch your whole family die, not being able to do anything.”

Dean sputtered as he focused his attention on the monster holding him at gunpoint. “So this is what it’s about? Revenge, some hunter, killed your family, and now you’re on a killing streak?”

You felt ‘Sam’ pressing against you, slipping his hand under the short towel, revealing you completely in front of him. You sobbed loudly as you felt his touch. Dean just turned his head towards the standing shapeshifter.

He’s stalling. You understood when he gave you an apologetic look.

You had to play along too.

You clenched your thighs, growling, ignoring your abuser. You didn’t believe what came out of your mouth when you turned to your brother.

“Don’t worry Dean, I can take it,” you said, in a tone as if you wanted to cheer up your brother. You let out a groan through gritted teeth as the man clenched his hands tighter around your wrists.

The monster stopped and looked at the other. The shifter grinned at him.

“I’d take my time, yesterday was too faulty,” the standing shapeshifter hissed and held the grip tighter “Let’s show him how it’s done,” he chuckled as he observed your brother, “She’s wetter when she bleeds.”

The ladder’s voice made you shiver.

No, you couldn’t get these thoughts in your head. You’re stalling, remember. Both of you. You can do it.

Hearing your brother’s scuffling, the frustration in his voice. You tried to focus on the Winchester tied to the chair, deciding to distract yourself from the monster touching you.

You can do it.

The shapeshifter took a dagger from behind his pants and waved it in front of your eyes.

Ironically, you felt relief at the sight of the knife. You’d rather have them torture you all day than if you were to repeat what you been through last night.

“You and your pathetic father killed our family," ‘Dean’ growled as ‘Sam’ drove the blade across your skin.“I was twelve when I found my father dead in our living room” You could sense the regret in his voice, a pain that he must have endured for years.

“They were monsters,” Dean hissed. His double jumped up and hit him in the face with the mount of his weapon.

“THEY WERE OUR PARENTS” he screamed, delivering a second punch, this time to the stomach, forcing Dean to spit out the blood from his mouth.

“Why did you take it out on Y/N, then? She was just a baby when it happened,” He growled, spitting more blood onto the ground. Your scream interrupted their conversation. The knife went right through your thigh. You groaned in pain as the monster pushed the blade deeper. Your struggle only made the unimaginable pain in your leg worse.

“Oh, because I knew it was the only way for you to invite us over,” He casually clicked his tongue, looking at the blood dripping from your thigh “But without buying dinner first? So rude, thought your father raised you better,”

The man laughed deeply as Dean sent another wave of curses toward him. “Such a shame, though ... She was a fun one. If only you could hear her scream” You let out a groan as ‘Sam’ turned the knife.

“Oh right,” he laughed, “you will…”

Despite the pain, you felt the blood oozing from underneath the blade. You both had little time. Prepared for the next wave of pain, you squeezed your eyes shut as the shifter ripped the dagger from your thigh.

To your surprise, the ache didn’t come. You opened your eyes as a giant force pushed the monster off you. It landed on the floor, screaming in pain.

The bang of a fired gun spread through the room, echoing in your head seconds later.

It took you a second to understand what happened. Despite the unimaginable pain, you forced yourself to stand up from the floor.

You looked at a man in a trench coat a few feet away. He took out a lengthy silver blade from his cloak, easily incapacitating the monster. With one swift move, he stripped it off its head.

On the other side of the room, Sam was barely standing. Covered in his blood, holding a pistol at his brother’s double, who was already lying on the ground.

You immediately spotted the gun that you dropped when ‘Sam’ knocked and pinned you. You grabbed it while trying to ignore the excruciating pain.

During all the chaos, you limped towards Dean as fast as you could, swiftly untying the ropes. “I’m fine..” He mumbled as you wanted to study his swollen face.

Without asking, he took the gun from you and walked over to his brother, standing over the shot monster.

It was still groaning in pain, mumbling so quietly that its words were indistinguishable from each other. The wound in his chest was steaming, the silver bullet burning off his insides, torturing him. Good.

He was armless and defenseless, like you, when he knocked you out. In excruciating pain, having no one to save him, as you did too.

You weren’t sorry but looking at him dying, resembling your brother. Someone you loved so much and wanted to cherish every second with. It didn’t feel right.

Sam and Dean both raised their handguns at the shifter. Cas appeared next to you, holding you up as you barely could stand because of your leg.

Your brothers didn’t look better. Sam looked even worse than you did yesterday. His hands were shaking, and his legs barely kept him up. But he continued to point his gun at the wounded, with pure hatred in his eyes.

Looking at your eldest brother, you could swear that his lips were trembling. He was never one to show any emotions, but at that moment, despite his swollen face, he was like an open book.

“Please don’t,” said the monster, trying to mock your voice. Your brothers looked at it in shock, even though it looked like Dean, the voice seemed too real, even to you. They lowered their guns a bit, not knowing what to do.

But you knew.

You felt the monster’s touch in your head constantly. Seeing it suffer made the pain a little more bearable.

Taking the handgun from your brother’s hand, you came closer to the shifter. Your whole body shivered, not just from the cold, which made you almost stiff, being covered by only a blood-soaked towel. You calmed the shaking of your hand and raised the pistol.

“That’s for Sammy,” you grunted, firing one of the shots to the monster’s arm. He screamed in agony as the bullet got stuck in his shoulder.

“That’s for Dean” Another bullet went through his other arm. You couldn’t tell when one scream ended and the other began.

“And this one, this one’s for me,” you hissed, shooting him in the head. His cries stopped, and his face froze in a scream of terror.

You didn’t know if it was the pain, blood loss, relief, or shock, but after the last bullet, you fell to the ground crying.

Before you hit the cold floor, two firm hands grabbed you, softening your fall. Lifting your head, you saw a pair of blue, warm eyes looking at you tenderly.

“Cas ...” you sobbed as you cuddled to the angel. You felt the pain disappear from your body, and your eyesight got more stabilized.

“You’re safe now,” He whispered in your hair, and you sobbed even more.

Both your brothers knelt beside you, embracing you and Castiel. Your blood and tears mixed. Sobs, sniffles, quiet chuckles, hisses of pain, and sights of relief accompanied your embrace.

A small wave of warmth went through your body.

You’re safe now

You didn’t even know what to say. Neither did they. None of you expected someone to speak up. You just held each other in your arms, letting you digest fully what happened.

The death of the monster brought you some relief, but it didn’t make you feel much better. You still felt the presence of emptiness and fear in your chest. It was getting smaller, but it was still there.

But you knew the shifters wouldn’t hurt anyone again. And your brothers would not allow you to be hurt again. It all gave you a feeling of hope.

Hope for healing.

Hope for happiness.

Hope for closure.

You knew you wouldn’t get there today, or tomorrow

But one day you will

You let out a trembling breath and squeezed Castiel and your brothers, smiling gently as you felt them hugging you back.

The three of them will make sure of it.

Masterlist.

“Y/N” Sam's voice shook you out of your spiraling train of thoughts. “Y/N, are you listening to me?” Sam looked at you from the front seat.

“What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening,” you mumbled, looking away from the window.

“I said...” His voice cracked a little, so he cleared his throat. “I said, when we get to the place, just stay in the car and wait for us politely. If anything, you call us right away.” You rolled your eyes in response. Sam gave you a serious look, waiting for your answer.

“Y/N” Dean warned you, looking at you through the rearview mirror.

“Of course, I’ll do it, Samuel.” You countered with a typical British accent and gave him a playful smile. He just smirked and turned towards your brother. Next thing you knew, you were parked in front of the bar. Dean turned to you with a concerned look one last time.

“Y/N, we’ll be back soon. Stay in the car, and don’t be stupid.” He ordered in his fatherly tone. You just nodded and watched as they both left.

You waited five minutes after your brothers entered the bar. You wanted to make sure they weren't coming back any time soon.

As you realized you were good to go, you left the car and closed it behind you. You just wanted to steal some money from oblivious drunk locals. You wanted to have enough cash to get out with your friends next week.

You were right in front of the entrance to the bar when you heard a silent call for help. It came from the back.

You scanned the empty parking lot as you heard it again. The gun was already in your hands as you rushed behind the building. Someone might've been hurt.

With a pounding heart, you looked at the back of the first garbage dump. To your surprise, it was empty.

Suddenly everything turned black, feeling a sharp pain on the back of your head.

***

The first thing you remembered was pain.

Laying on the ground, you struggled to catch your breath. It was hollow and unsteady.

Tears were running down your face as you tried to lift yourself. The icy wind stung your wet skin.

Your head was pulsating and felt empty.

Where am I?

You sat there, wearing only a shirt, shoes, and ripped jeans, trembling at the sight of your body.

What happened?

Shreds of your pants were thrown around as you sat on the blood-stained concrete.

The realization of what happened hit you like a slap in the face. Tears were stinging your bruised cheeks as you looked at your wounds.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?"

You felt sick.

You've never wanted to turn back time so much as you did right then. You wept, trembling as you saw your grazed hands and broken nails.

"Why are you so feisty? I know you want this"

Seeing your body made you gag.

Your stomach became empty as you struggled to move away from the pool of blood and vomit you sat in. The bruises on your wrists didn’t help as you tried to crawl aside, groaning in pain.

The ace was the only thing that made that moment feel real.

A big cut on your thigh made you lose even more blood as you dragged yourself towards a gap between trashcans. Gathering your last bits of will, you pressed your leg, struggling to stop the bleeding.

You didn’t know how long you were laying there, trying to muffle your helpless cries.

You cursed through clenched teeth, realizing your gun and phone were gone. Not being able to alarm your brothers made you even more horrified.

You sobbed while working to cover yourself. Frightened by all that happened, you curled up, causing a sharp wave of pain in your legs.

Being weak and unable to move, you had to hide and stay silent. You had to face the terrifying fact.

He might come back.

He will come back.

It will happen again.

It will happen again.

It will happen again.

Panic made you freeze again.

You couldn’t believe how all of this happened. Your head was spinning as you tried to recall your attacker. His face or anything about him.

Nothing.

A blank face stared back at you, grinning as he inched closer and closer to your limp body.

As you gathered your thoughts, you remembered that at all times, you had a small knife hidden in your boots.

As if it was your last hope, you squeezed it in your hand after pulling it out of your shoe.

If he was going to come back for you, weren’t going to give up without a fight.

You sat in silence, trying to calm your unsteady breathing as you held the knife in one hand and tried to stop the bleeding with the other. To your horror, you picked quiet footsteps.

Someone was coming towards you.

You clenched your fingers on the dagger until your knuckles whitened.

“Y/N?!”

It was Sam.

He was looking for you.

You dropped your blade and wept with relief.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” He ran towards you with horror written out on his face.

“Don’t look at me, please!” You gasped through tears, covering yourself.

It felt ridiculous, but you didn’t want him to see you in that state.

Ignoring your pleading, he kept his eyes open. He quickly took off his jacket and helped you put it on.

“Y/N…” Sam’s voice broke down. Even though the tears blurred most of your vision, you could tell that he knew.

"No one will come for you."

The guilt in his eyes hurt you even more than bruises on your thighs.

With trembling hands, you zipped the jacket up and struggled to stand. His clothes were too big, so they covered you to the middle of your thigh. You lost balance, but Sam immediately caught you and supported you.

“Son of a bitch! Y/N!” You wept as you heard Dean’s screams. He was already running towards you both. “Y/N, what the hell happened?!”

You didn't respond.

You couldn’t.

A lump in your throat grew bigger and bigger as you approached the car.

“Y/N!” Dean cried, trying to catch your attention.

“Something... bad.” you managed to say through gathering tears. Your voice cracked with every syllable.

The oldest brother opened the Impala and helped you get into it. Both your brothers quickly sat in the front seats, turning back to you.

“Tell me what happened!” Dean yelled out impatiently.

You could bearly breathe, your lips trembling with every attempt to say it.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows as he realized. Sam tried to calm him down, but it was already too late.

“Thi-this man...” you mumbled. You couldn't control your shaky voice.

The whole thing seemed unreal to you. It felt like you were watching yourself through someone else's eyes.

“He raped me...” you whispered before you broke down.

Dean stepped out of the car and sat next to you. He gently embraced you with his arm as you started crying.

You were tired, so fucking tired. Every emotion that hit you was so overwhelming, you just wanted it to stop. You needed the pain to stop, you couldn’t bear it anymore.

Older Winchester scanned you as he stroked your back. Finally, seeing the state that bastard left you in made him even angrier.

A small groan came out of you as Dean pulled in to hug you. Your thigh was not looking good. To your surprise, it somehow looked even worse than you remember. Blood from the wound has soaked a decent chunk of Sam’s jacket.

“Shit,” Dean mumbled. He noticed the big slash on your lap. He took a couple of layers off himself and used one of his flannels to bandage the wound.

“It’s not that bad-” you hissed as he tightened the shirt on your leg. You wanted to believe that it couldn’t get worse. But it looked horrible. You weren’t sure if only the tears were blurring your vision.

“I should’ve been there…” your brother’s voice shook as you buried your face in his torso, allowing yourself to let it all out.

“No… I-I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed in the car. I just wanted to go with you, I-” You cried as he stroked your hair. You tried to catch your trembling breath as you spoke, “I just- I… It hurts” your voice broke down completely. “It hu-urst so much.”

“Shhhh... It’s okay Bug. I know it hurts, I know,” Dean whispered as he kissed your forehead. “None of this is on you, kiddo. You hear me? I will kill this motherfucker when we find him with my bare hands,” you breathed shakily into his chest.

As your breath calmed down, you didn’t even notice when you fell asleep.

***

Screaming, the smell of vodka

His awful laugh, pain

Burning touch and every awful push

His green eyes

You opened your eyes, terrified, catching your breath. No, you weren’t there; you were safe.

You laid with your brother, not there. Not on that cold concrete. You were safe.

But with each breath, you felt panic in your chest, growing rapidly. Dean’s hands are on you, his shirt soaked in the smell of alcohol and cigarettes, and his green eyes.

It all made you sore. It reminded your muffled screams; it reminded you of everything you wanted to forget so much. You carefully got up and moved away from your brother.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re awake,” You heard Sam from the driver’s seat. He looked at you in the rearview mirror. Dean woke up to the sound of your name and looked at you, still half-conscious. You must’ve looked awful because your brother’s expression turned from sad to worried in seconds.

You felt guilty, and how he looked at you with concern and care made you even sicker.

The last thing you wanted from him was that.

It felt stupid, but he reminded you too much of what happened. You couldn’t stand his presence, not now.

“Y/N, you wanna talk about it?” He mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of sleep from his face. You, shaking your head, made Dean frown and put his hand on your shoulder. This time you threw his hand away.

“Y/N, baby, look at me.” You ignored his request and looked at your shoes. You held your breath and closed your eyes. Not now. You don’t want to blame him. You don’t want to say anything stupid. Just not now.

“Y/N- “Before he could add anything, you looked at him with teary eyes and whispered, “Can you leave me alone?”

Dean looked at you in surprise but said nothing as he pushed himself away from you. You sent him a tired and pleading look, after which he turned his face to Sam, who was concentrated on the road, not seeing his brother’s sing.

For the rest of the way, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak to your siblings. Dean still would try to talk to you, using checking your leg as an excuse.

You tried to distract yourself by counting the cars and trucks you’d been passing on the free road. Anything to keep the memories from coming back. But nothing you did could make you stop thinking about what happened. Replaying everything that happened, you barely kept yourself from vomiting again.

You couldn’t stop fighting your thoughts. Now and then, you closed your eyes, hoping that today was just a dream.

Crying each time you realized it wasn’t.

When you came to the bunker, you ran into your room without a word and locked yourself in. You wouldn’t leave it for hours, ignoring your rumbling stomach and each of your muscles crying in pain. You couldn’t move yourself up from the floor.

Until you heard the flapping of the wings from the hallway.

He wanted to understand what was happening in his little sister’s head. He always wanted to keep her safe and sound. Not just against the monsters they hunted but also to protect her against the world itself. Knowing it’s cruel, especially to good people like Y/N.

He wanted to help her get rid of all of her problems. He only wished to hug her and let her know everything would be fine.

Maybe he, as always, forgot that his little sister isn’t that little anymore.

“Y/N, we’ll be back soon. Stay in the car, and don’t be stupid,” Dean ordered. He always sounded like their dad when he tried to parent them.

“There’s something wrong with Y/N,” they both said as they approached the bar’s door.

“You noticed it too? She has been acting ...”

“... Strangely?” Dean cut off his brother, and he nodded.

“Something is up ...” Said Sam before they entered the building.

***

“Dude, Y/N hasn’t called for two hours. You should call her just to check up.” Dean shouted to Sam. Although they were 3 feet apart, the loud music drowned everything out.

Younger Winchester took the cell phone out and picked out Y/N’s number. Surprisingly, his younger sister didn’t answer. As he kept calling, her phone kept turning to voicemail even though he had already tried three times.

“She is not picking up.” He yelled, as his brother frowned in response. “I’m gonna check the car. Maybe she’s sleeping.”

“Ok, man, in the meantime, Imma take care of this!” The older brother pointed at Sam’s drink as the latter rolled his eyes and walked out of the bar. Dean shrugged his shoulders and finished his younger brother’s whiskey.

Sam crept his way to the car. He already planned to wake her up by pouring her a bottle of cold water. He smiled to himself, already picturing her reaction. God, he loved teasing her. Prank wars between his siblings always cheered him up.

When he came to the door of the Impala, he froze, not seeing his sister inside. Frightened by this, he looked around the parking lot, trying to find her.

When he didn’t find any trace of Y/N, he called Dean.

“She’s gone” Sam could hear loud music, accompanied by the clatter of glasses and loud conversations on the other side of the phone.

“What? Who is gone? I can’t hear you!” shouted the blonde on the other side.

“Y/N is gone! She’s not in the car!” He repeated, louder this time.

“Son of a bitch, I knew it was a bad idea to bring her with us. Just look outside of the bar. I will look for her inside!” He said before he hung up.

Sam looked everywhere. There was no trace of his Y/N. He grabbed his head and panted. “Y/N” He shouted helplessly, lowering his hands.

Then he could have sworn that he heard metal hitting the concrete. It was coming from dumpsters; he thought he had looked there already.

He sprinted to where the sound came from.

And then he saw her covered in blood, half-naked, and crying. His little sister, who he promised to protect, sat wounded and torn.

Sam felt the blood leave his face.

How could he let it happen to her?

“Oh, my god! Y/N,” he shouted while running up to her.

“Don’t look at me! Please!” She screamed desperately, covering herself. Sam, despite her asking, didn’t close his eyes and took off his jacket, after which he helped her put it on.

“Y/N…” Sam’s voice broke down as he scanned her body, smelling the blood.

He felt as if the entire world had stopped.

And she, with her trembling, bruised hands, pinned it as she struggled to get up. His sister lost balance, but he immediately caught her and helped her.

“Son of a bitch! Y/N!” Dean was already running towards them.

“Y/N, what the hell happened?!” Their sister didn’t respond, but he already knew.

Feeling tears running down his cheeks, he struggled to breathe.

This couldn’t be happening.

Not to Y/N. Not to his little Y/N.

Dean shouted her name again as she finally responded, gasping through tears.

“Something... bad.”

Sam and Dean helped her get to the car. She barely moved, struggling as they sat her in the back seat. After which, both brothers sat in the front, turning back to their sister.

“Tell me what happened!” Dean shouted.

Sam already knew.

He tried to calm his brother, but it was already too late to fix any of this.

“This man...” Even though Sam knew what she would say, it scared him to hear her say it.

He wanted to pretend that it was not true. That everything that had happened today was only another bad dream of his.

But every time he closed his eyes, he couldn’t wake up.

This being real, was his worst nightmare.

“H-he raped me.”

As Y/N started crying and Dean was processing the whole thing, tears started running down the younger brother’s face.

He failed.

He failed the one job he had.

To keep her safe.

It was all because of him. He was selfish and irresponsible.

It was his responsibility. And he failed.

She was the spark of joy in their lives.

But when she looked at him, he didn’t see that spark in her eyes anymore.

It faded away because of him.

You loved them.

God, you knew love was too weak of a word to define how you felt towards Max.

Your friend, your partner… someone who made your living seem like one of those cliche coming-of-age films.

When you were with them, you thought that you deserved all this happiness.

It just seemed right.

Neither Max nor you cared if the situation between you was platonic, romantic, or somewhere in between.

It didn’t matter to you.

They were just someone you could spend your entire life with. Soulmate was the closest word you could find to define the bond between you.

They knew about your hunting world, hell they knew more than you learned about yourself and they stuck around.

They cherished you.

They supported you.

They were the spark, the reason you were hanging on.

But now that spark was gone.

It left because of your reckless thinking.

You are a Winchester. You should have known that people who get close to you are at risk, that they will eventually get hurt.

But you’ve kept them around

Held them with you even when things became worse. When you finished school, you started hunting more. Not wanting to move to college, you committed full time to the family business. You’ve dropped out, Max did too.

You’ve spent days on research, they helped you. And you allowed them to.

And that got them killed.

You looked at the cold concrete ceiling, wiping a single tear off your cheek. After a while, you mostly just felt numb. It got harder and harder to feel anything. Sadness and pain were the only things you could bring out of that deep void in your chest.

And it was better than feeling nothing at all.

A gentle knock on the door shook you out of your escalating spiral of thoughts. You sat up, putting your phone away as you watched Sam, your older brother, peeking his head into your room.

It was barely visible.

As your place was borderline pitch black if not for a single table lamp on your desk, eliminating a small part of it.

For the last couple of months, after you’ve finished the hunt, your relatives have given you space to process all. They didn’t press you to hang out or go out with them. They allowed you to mourn, no matter how long it was supposed to take you.

Sam tried to talk to you, check up on you from time to time, but each time your answers weren’t much different from ‘I’m fine.

So he didn’t push.

“Dean and I are going to a diner a few miles from here. He says they have the best burgers in town. “You could hear a quiet pleading in his voice. Like he was asking you to come with them.

Nodding, you answered with a tone that was closer to a mumble than a statement, “I’m fine. I’ll eat yesterday’s leftovers and watch a crappy reality tv episode. You guys have fun”

Smiling faintly, you saw a slight concern written on the hunter’s face. Despite that, he nodded and closed the door. Letting you fade into the darkness of your own heart.

•••

As you heard heavy steel doors of the bunker close and your brothers leaving. You slipped out of your room, making sure they were gone.

When you realized you were the only one left in your home, you took out a few pills from your underwear drawer. Shoving them into your mouth and exhaling heavily.

You knew it was wrong, what you were doing.

You hated when your brothers turned to liquor and jumping at each other’s throats as means of coping with regret and trauma. But by doing it, you weren’t better than them.

As you felt the drugs' effects after a while. You let another wave of regrets rush through you as you light up a pipe filled with white powder.

Taking a hit from it, you allowed your body to relax.

It was better than crippling anxiety or numbness. It was the only state in which you felt anything.

Allowing yourself to let go of the sensations of everything around you, you drifted away. You didn’t register the itching smoke as you inhaled, nor the hot lighter pressed against your skin.

You had to keep your senses busy. With pills, with alcohol, or meaningless sex. It somehow kept you going. But you couldn’t bear your thoughts. It was easier than trying to handle them.

Max

Max is dead.

The vampires you were supposed to hunt down ripped them apart.

Lighting the end of the cigarette holder, you took one last drag and threw your head back. You stared at the fire of the lighter. You felt it draw you in and hypnotize you. You’ve never noticed how beautiful it looked against your skin.

They suffered agony because of you. And there was nothing you could give to fix it. Nothing you would do would bring them back. Nothing you could do would make you feel the pain they went through. So had to try.

You didn’t even notice when you started mumbling their name like a prayer. It seemed glued to your lips. You couldn’t get rid of it as you observed the fire dancing inches from your eyes.

Unzipping your jeans, you slipped them down, exposing a part of your thigh already covered in burns from lighters and joints. The flame burned your skin, hissing as you gritted your teeth, trying to handle the burning. It was better than the numbness that overtook your body.

Dizziness and lightness in your skull muffled out most of the pain, but you could still feel the ripping sensation.

But at that moment, you felt right.

You’re not certain when you stopped, when you took a few more pills and laid yourself on the floor.

At some point you’ve put on some music, you’re not sure when though. You could pick up deep rumbles and sounds. It sounded like the kind you would listen to with your brothers.

Cold bunker wall shook you out of the trance you were in. Were you in the hallway? You weren’t sure. Maybe your bladder was calling. But the bathroom seemed so far away.

Where was it, anyway?

You tripped on the floor, barely seeing it coming, still hearing those deep rumbles and voices. What were the lyrics? You were sure you knew them.

Rising and grasping the cold tiles on the wall, you smiled. The texture was nice. You’ve never noticed how good it felt. You wanted to stay right there for hours. A blurry goal at the back of your head made you continue your struggle.

Feeling a small pressure on your knees from the fall. You were going to take care of that later.

Each step felt heavy, and also you couldn’t focus on each one. It seemed distant as if you were observing someone else’s legs.

You stumbled through the hall, going to the kitchen. At least you hoped you were going there. Right, and left looked so similar all of the sudden.

But the sounds seemed to be louder and louder. You weren’t moving back to your room, were you? The speaker had to be next to you somehow.

“Y/N?” Strong grip on your shoulder made you shiver as you lifted your head.

It’s Max.

It was Max. Max was holding you. They came back.

They were safe. Of course, they were safe, they’re right here!

Suddenly, their presence felt so obvious, so sure. You raised your hand, wanting to hug them, to touch them as you always did.

The longer you looked, the more of it felt. But they were right there! You could pick up their voice, you could feel their touch... no.

No, it wasn’t Max. It was big. It was...

“Y/N!” The hands squeezed you tighter, shaking.

Sam, Sam was holding you. He was scanning your face as his eyes darkened. You weren’t sure if you were in trouble; you were just having fun, not hurting anyone. Why would he be mad?

Before you could answer, he pulled his hands to your face, forcing your eyelids to open with his fingers.

“You have to be kidding me,” He murmured as he checked your pulse. You wanted to stand up. Protest somehow but all that came out of your lips was their name, raspy and barely hearable

“Y/N” You shook your head. They should be here, not you. They wouldn’t drug themselves away, they would help people. They would help you.

They’re gone

They’re gone

They’re-

“Y/N” Dean’s voice seemed like a slap in the face. Shaking you away from your spiraling thoughts

“Y/N what did you do?”

Next Part.

A/N: "If you want to be tagged in the next part, comment or message me!"

Masterlist.

tags:

@dragon-master-kai