Request: I’ve been scrolling
through your blog all day!! you’re super talented!! could you writer a
samxreader one shot where you’re bobby’s daughter too. Sam is being detoxxed
from demon blood and you sit outside the door He knows you’re there and he
keeps asking you for help. You get really upset so Dean and Bobby comfort you.
Word Count: 1,547
Thank you!! You’re too
sweet<3 It almost makes me feel bad for how depressing this is. Love you
The metal slider slams shut with a protesting shriek that seems to
rattle through your bones. You can hear him, banging against the iron door with
all of his might, his words muffled by the metal. You can still make them out,
though – he’s calling for you, begging for you to let him out, to get him out
of here. He thinks you’re on his side. He doesn’t know that you are.
It quiets after ten minutes. Dean stands by your side until the
basement falls silent again – he’s poised to grab you, stop you from pulling
the door open and letting his brother out, even though every nerve in his body
cries for him to do just that. You’re there for each other, though, and when
his hand clamps around your wrist you realise that he needs you as much as you,
him, if you want to get through this.
“It’s okay, Dean,” The words don’t feel like they’re your own,
weighted with guilt and fear, “It’ll be okay.”
He nods stiffly, but doesn’t say a word. He’s watched his brother die;
he’s died for him, but this? This is more difficult than all of it.
The two of you go upstairs for a while after that, drinking your way
through your father’s liquor cabinet to try to drown out the yelling and crying
beneath your feet. He’s mad. You can tell. You don’t know if he’ll ever forgive
you – your sweet, kind, loving Sam, reduced to a desperate junkie.
It doesn’t even bear thinking about.
The iron is cold against your back, the chill seeping through your
(Sam’s) thin shirt and prickling against your skin. Its scent coats your
nostrils, smelling too much like blood for you to be anything but on high
alert. Knees tucked to your chest, chin atop them, you keep your eyes so
tightly closed that it aches and wish you were anywhere else.
The voice catches you unawares and you look up, hearing a small knock
at the bars he must be right behind, for his voice to be so clear. You blink a
few times, not answering.
“I know you’re there,” There’s pain in his voice. Pain and unshed
tears that are echoed in your own eyes the moment you realise how much he’s
suffering, “I heard your footsteps coming in, but not out. Dean and Bobby
wouldn’t stick around this long.”
You stay quiet again, but carefully, silently get to your feet. His
voice stops and for a second, you think that he’s given up, but then it comes
“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He says, his voice softer this time, “I am.
Please talk to me. Don’t- don’t leave me alone in here.”
You relent, lifting up onto your tiptoes to get on eye-level with the
gap in the bars and pulling the slider back. Sam’s eyes widen as he sees you
and you can see the pure exhaustion in them – red-rimmed, complimented with
dark circles. The glint you know and love so well is nowhere to be seen.
“Y/N. Please.” He whispers, shaking his head as he interrupts you, “I
need your help. I need you to let me out of he-“
He disappears from sight as you push the iron slider shut once more.
He’s screaming again. You got a little sleep, draped clumsily over a
battered old couch, but Sam’s agonised yelling soon permeates your dream-cloak
and sends chills through you that force you out of sleep’s quiet cocoon. You
weren’t sleeping all that well, anyway – without Sam’s familiar warmth beside you,
it’s a lot more difficult than usual.
The ceiling really needs to be
The thought catches you unaware, something worryingly mundane in
amongst the sea of weirdness that your mind is currently bathing in. In fact,
it’s such a stark contrast that a blast of overwhelming emotion hits you like a
wave crashing into the shore and before you know it you’ve curled yourself
over, hugging your knees and sobbing into the lumpy cushion.
That’s how Dean and Bobby find you the next morning, half-asleep, the
wetness beneath your face stark against the pale material, curled into a
trembling ball – a picture painted and then burned.
“Y/N, come on,” Somewhere in the background, Sam screams for mercy
from an unknown source as Dean coaxes you up, pressing a warm mug into your
hand. When he urges you to sip it, it’s so heavily spiked that you nearly throw
it back up. There are tears in his own eyes when you look up at him, mirroring
your own, and for a few minutes the two of you sit, trying to leech the warmth
of the spiked coffee into your bones.
“You don’t have to do this,” Bobby tells you. You almost nod, thank
him, and run fast and far from the iron door in front of you. But… you can’t.
Because Sam, your Sam, is in there,
and if there’s the smallest chance that you can help him… who are you not to
“I know,” You say instead, providing a weak smile that falters and
comes dangerously close to giving into tears when he pulls you into him, his
hand clutching your head to his shoulder. Your father isn’t one for physical
affection, but the emotion he puts into the gesture is that which he couldn’t
ever hope to put into words: pride and sorrow, love and hope, dread and anger,
equally matched and wrapped into a tight cocoon.
Dean gives you a look, but you force yourself to look away as you pull
the door open, only just enough for you to suck in your stomach and slip
through. It clangs shut, and Sam’s neck almost snaps as he cranes to look at
you. Rather than relief, though, panic and distress cloud his features.
“No,” He moans, closing his eyes tightly, “Not you, too. Please, not
“Sam?” Your steps are apprehensive, quiet, “Sammy, it’s me. It’s Y/N.”
“No, it’s not,” He denies, turning his head away from him and shaking
it almost frantically, “You’re in my head, just like the rest of them.”
“I’m not in your head, Sam. I’m here.” He’s strapped down to the bed –
you don’t know when that happened, but you suspect that it was Dean’s doing.
Maybe your father’s, too.
“They’re all in my head. It only makes sense that you are, too.”
“GET OUT!” And he’s screaming again, every inch the manic junkie
you’ve tried so hard to convince yourself that he isn’t. So you turn on your
heel and take off, shoving your way through the door and up the stairs, out to
the yard, as far away from his agonised cries as you can possibly be.
“Y/N?” His voice is soft; quiet. It’s all over. Everything you’d
worked for; tried to stop him doing… it failed. And now… now, the whole world
lies in peril once more. Lucifer is free. Because of Sam. Your sweet, kind Sam,
who didn’t want to hunt; didn’t want to kill, who wanted to spare as many as he
could. The hero.
You’re starting to think that that Sam died a couple of years ago, the
first time around.
“You hate me.” He surmises from your silence. You don’t correct him.
Don’t even look at him until he sighs, the sound tired and ragged and so full
of guilt and despair that your heart clenches in your chest and threatens to
“No.” You turn around, slowly, deliberately, letting the window you’d
been staring out of light you from behind. Sam examines your silhouette, but
doesn’t come closer than the doorway.
“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” You swallow, arms folded
over your head, “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you, Sam. It doesn’t mean that
you didn’t just throw the last five years down the drain. It doesn’t mean I
trust you, or ever will again.” Your voice is too quiet and even and you hear
his breath catch in his throat; watch his eyes close against the barrage of
emotion he knows that you’ll pick up on. You were always good at that.
“I know.” You don’t miss a beat, don’t let him begin to make excuses,
“I can’t do this anymore, Sam.” You run a hand through your hair,
soothing the tangles. When was the last time you brushed it? Memory doesn’t
serve, but the thought doesn’t last long, “I need to get out of here. Away.
Your nod is all the confirmation he needs, but all he does is pause,
then return your nod. Like he understands. Like it makes sense to him. It
“I’m sorry.” You admit. It’s true. You hadn’t wanted it to be like
this; never imagined that it would. But right now… you need to run away. Be
away from him.
“Don’t be.” He tells you shortly.
But you still are. From then, while you pack your stuff, when you
press the pedal down to the floor and go flying down the old, empty road, not
bothering to watch the salvage yard disappear in your rear-view.
iKON reaction to you casually changing clothes in front of them
Note: You only kissed before!
Hanbin: has no idea what to actually do but that’s not stopping him from grinning and trying to steal one more glance at you while you have your back turned to him and while he’s ‘’also busy trying to find that new shirt *steals a glance* seriously where could it be??’’
Jinhwan: is suddenly talking so loud that someone listening would never guess that he’s standing not even a meter away from you…he also suddenly developed an intense curiosity for the ceiling in your room
Junhoe: suddenly his shirt is really tight and ‘’Why don’t you open that window? Don’t you feel how hot it’s here!’’ he’s still trying to act like he’s completely calm…but his red ears are saying something else
Yunhyeong: barely manages to keep the water in his mouth when your shirt lands on the bed right next to him…the next few minutes would be spent on the mix of wondering if you noticed that and trying to not to stare trying is the key word because he’s not exactly succeeding
Bobby: would make himself comfortable in your bed and stare…just stare, looking like the view of you changing is not affecting him at all which you can’t say for yourself but in reality, the reason for his calmness is the total loss of energy on trying not to blush
Donghyuk: leaves the room as quickly as he can while cheerfully informing you that he need a glass of water, not even hearing your response because of all the alarms going off inside his head telling him that there’s no way he would stay calm even for one more second
Chanwoo: continues eating his food trying to totally ignore the fact that you just took off your shirt and spent a few more minutes searching for another one…which he’s succeeding in as much as in not blushing and keeping the fork in his hands
Warnings: Character Death, Angst, Light nudity and violence, Swearing
Request:I’m rewatching Season 7 and I have a lot of
Bobby emotions, naturally. Could you do one where the reader has Bobby walk her
down the aisle at her wedding (to any character I don’t care) and share the
father-daughter dance with her? (Even though they’re not related, he’s still a
father figure to her) 💞💕
Y/N: Sorry this one took so long. To do it justice I had to get to a pretty emotional place, which is difficult for me sometimes. I really hope this is what you wanted love. I used the song So Little Time, So Much To Do, which was my Father Daughter Dance song. The time line jumps between season 7 and 4.
It wasn’t the first time he’d died. You’d been there with him during the
apocalypse. You’d heard the sickening
snap as his neck broke, before your own death found you. You hadn’t even realized you were dead until
you were alive again.
This was different.
There was no resurrection.
No deals. No hail Marys’. No miracles.
There was just Bobby, pale and dead.
And you couldn’t place it in time and space. Hell, you’d all fought the Devil, Angels,
Demons, monsters. And it was a bullet
that killed him? A fucking bullet.
Inside the cabin your husband was obsessing. Staring at that clipboard, those numbers
Bobby had died to give him. He was
blaming himself, drinking himself into a shallow grave. Another shallow grave.
You tightened the blanket around your shoulders. It was freezing. But you couldn’t be in the cabin. You couldn’t see the remnants of your life
scattered in each room. Because Bobby
had loved you. Truly loved you. And the proof was everywhere. There were pictures of you with your
frizzy-puberty hair and braces. The damn
hoarder even still had your report cards.
(“How do you get an F in History, Y/N? You’re damned good at doing research!”
“My teacher didn’t appreciate my essay saying that President
Roosevelt was actually killed by a Windego.”
“What were you thinkin’?
You’ve got a solid head on those shoulders. Try using it next time.”)
It sometimes seemed life pivoted around moments, single
excruciating moments. Choices were
easier, if not less painful. A slow progression
was devastating, but you could see it coming.
It was the small moments, the accidents, the impulse choices. Those were unbearable.
If your father hadn’t bought that cursed necklace for your
mother. If you’d known the colt wouldn’t
work on the devil. If the bullet had
been an inch higher.
How would Jay Park, Bobby and Loco react if you planned to go let's say to a concert or festival and that you were dressed in a bit too exposed way? Would they mind?
Just so that we’re all on the same page, I used this picture for reference of what you are wearing.
Jay would look at your outfit from head to toe to see what you were wearing. I don’t think Jay would really mind that you were wearing that outfit as long as you were comfortable wearing it.
He would firstly ask you where you were going. Then, when you tell him
that you are going to a festival, I think he would ask you to bring an extra
change of clothing. In case you wanted to change.
Bobby would take a good look at your outfit from all angles. He would say something like, “Where you going babe? Why are you dressed like that? Can I come with you?” I don’t think he’d ask you to change or anything as long as you felt like you were comfortable. Bobby would seriously consider on going with you to this festival because he would want to see you rock your outfit.
Loco would probably look at you from behind and from in front to examine your outfit. I don’t think he wouldn’t be so thrilled that you are leaving the house like that, he would try to make you change your outfit to something different, or a different top. But if you keep insisting that you want to wear that outfit, Loco would still insist a different a different outfit, but he would make sure that you took a sweatshirt or something.
Summary: We learn the results of the DNA. Characters:
John Winchester, Female Reader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Cole
Trenton, Bobby Singer, & Gabriel. Word Count: 1,762 Warnings:
Language, suspense, masturbation Author’s Note:The feedback is amazing. Thank you so much! Miss the beginning?
6 MONTHS AGO
He barely managed to get Gabe off his back by saying he wasn’t feeling well, stomach ache; which wasn’t that far from the truth. All he could think about, all he wanted to do was hack into the Lawrence PD database and make sure he hadn’t made a mistake the last time he phonied his record. Not that he actually thought he’d get caught, but everyone had that shred of self-doubt telling them how fucked up they were, how everything they touched went to shit, right?
Wearing boxers and a dark blue LPD shirt, he typed furiously, praying a match hadn’t yet been found. It took less than a minute - they really needed better security - before he was seeing the same screen as Kevin. With a heavy sigh of relief, he slumped over the keyboard; the system was still searching for a match, which meant his falsified record was perfect. Despite the surge of uncertainty when that asshole Winchester found his cum, the excitement previously felt rippled just beneath the surface. Like a fucking addict, he already craved another hit. But it would have to wait.
You groaned rubbing your eyes and hiding underneath the comforter. Bobby was already very awake, freshly showered, dressed, and ready for the day. You on the hand, had this thing about not being awake before 5am on your day off.
Bobby chuckled seeing you bury your face in the pillow and blanket. “Yah, Noona. Come on I let you sleep for as long as I could, we need to go” he tugged your blanket away making you sit up with a huff.
“Gimmie my blanket back” you pouted sleepily.
He grinned pecking your lips. “Get dressed, we’re going to be late.”
“I don’t wanna move” you crossed your arms over your chest.
“Awww Noona…you’re so cute…” he ran his lips against your ear, trailing lower. “Don’t worry Noona…I can help you”
Request:Omg! When will you be writing the next part to Invisible? It’s so good!
Request:are there going to be anymore parts to invisible?
Request:Hay, i was wondering when you were thinking of making the 7th part to Winchester brothers-Invisible? I love that one! (If you already did make one sorry for being a bother, I couldn’t find it.)
Request:I know you are probably busy, but if you ever get the chance could you continue the “Invisible” series?
A/N: Sorry for the long wait guys, also requests are closed so PLEASE don’t get sending any in till I say so <3 thanks x
‘’That would be me’’
Your heart stopped, the endless thudding that signalled your lifeline, now finally dulled and came to a sharp, hot end as his voice ran shivers down your spine. Your eyes slammed shut almost on instinct, even with the three best hunters at your side.
You shuffled away, a puppy like whimper falling from your shaking lips. Your broken body curled in on itself, your brothers eyes absorbing your new, odd behaviour and frowning.
Dean shared a tense look with Sam, unshared words vibrating between the two. Dean nodded, Sam’s fingers twitching around his knife.
‘’Who the hell are you?’’Bobby’s voice rung out, anger clear and evident in his tone. The mystery person chuckled, a dark, deep chuckle that once again had your heart stopping.
You shuffled back, almost like a puppy who had been scolded over and over again and now trembled at the mere sound or sight of the abuser.
Sam cupped your kneecap, trying to reassure you as your two brothers turned around. Dean frowned when he didn’t recognise them. No one they had hunter, not a relative of someone they had hunted…or at least he didn’t think so..
A man you know as Marco was standing before them, a blood dripping knife standing eager in his tight, venomous grip. Dean eyed the leaking crimson, his eyes scanning over your body for any wounds.
He saw a few, none that had you hanging between the balance of life or death. This guy was smart, whoever he was. He knew that killing you would be too quick and easy, s he left wounds in places that would hurt like hell but not enough to kill you, only slowly tourture you.
‘’Darling, listen to me’’Dean said, glaring holes at the man.’’It’s all in your head okay. This isn’t real, none of it is. Just wake up’’Dean explained gently, though panic raised in his voice when Marco started to step closer and closer, knife edging above his head, a grin widening on his features.
You said nothing, sobbing as you curled in on yourself.
‘’Listen to me (y/n)’’Sam pleaded, cupping your face. You sniffled, looking at him with wet eyes.
‘’You trust us don’t you?’’He asked with a soft, sweet smile, the one you had been missing all this time. You nodded, flickering your eyes over to Marco who Dean was now fighting. ‘’No, look at me’’Sam coached, snapping your attention back to him and away from Marco.
‘’Then you would know that Dean and I would never let anybody take you, or hurt you. It’s all just a dream, I swear, (y/n). I promise that you’re going to wake up and find us all by your side. You just need to believe me. Can you do that for me?’’Sam asked, his voice hitching as Dean went flying back into a wall.
You looked at Sam, who was now growing needy, shuffling on the spot as Marco got closer to him. Sam flinched, ready to be hacked at but when he lowered his arms after feeling no pain, he saw that he was in his chair at the hospital, next to a slightly startled and confused Dean.
‘’(y/n)’’Dean breathed out, shooting up and racing over to your bedside. When you didn’t wake up, the two brothers shared a look, bobby soon coming too and racing over.
‘’Wh-she should be waking up..I don’t understand’’Sam whispered, his voice sounding like a desperate child.
‘’Maybe she just didn’t realise it was a dream’’Bobby frowned, his eyes glazing over.
‘’She must have! we woke up!’’Dean yelled, startling the two.
‘’It wasn’t our dream so we couldn’t have died anyway’’Bobby sighed, slapping his hand down on Dean’s shoulder. ‘’Come on you, idgit’’Bobby hissed, staring at you.
All of a sudden, as if he words had a magic meaning, you shot up, spluttering and choking on the tube stuck in your throat.
‘’Hey, hey. Shh.. you’re okay, keep that in’’Sam soothed, instantly by your side. You were confused as too why there was a tube down your throat, startled as you yanked at it. Sam grasped your hand pulling it away and stroking back your hair.
‘’You’re okay, you’re safe now, just relax’’Bobby comforted, running his fingers over his chewed cap. You slumped backwards, closing your eyes and pursing your shaking lips together.
‘’(Y/n)…’’Sam trailed off, using that sympathetic, puppy voice of his.
‘’Don’t’’you breathed out, your voice merely a whispered, you knew they were going to ask you who Marco was.
‘’We need to know, you can’t just keep stuff like that to yourself, (y/n)’’Dean yelled, his voice slowing down when he saw you flinch. He sighed, licking his dry lip and sitting on the edge of your bed.
‘’We can help you’’He soothed, placing his warm hand on your kneecap.
‘’No you can’t’’You growled out, tears cascading down your cheeks. ‘’No one can stop him’’You whimpered, looking away from them. They all sighed, knowing you weren’t going to budge.
Sam leaned down, scooping you up in his arms as Dean checked you out the hospital. You looked away from Sam, closing your eyes as the tall, muscular hunter carried you out into the Impala.
He gently placed you down, your body instinctively curling up against the Impala door, staring out the window and at the pitch black sky. Your brothers got in without a word, constant flashes of worry towards you but you continued to stare forward.
Once Dean pulled over, he got out, storming off into the motel. You flinched, glancing towards Sam who was looking at you with soft, concerned eyes. Sam got out the car, opening your side as he leanded down to help you but you just shook him off and climbed out. You wobbled at first, Sam’s hand hovering by you before you walked over to the motel and crept into bed without even so much as glancing at Dean who was sat grumpily in his chair.
►I got around to read Romeo and Juliet over again for the umpteenth time, and this scenario sort of played in my head as I read the balcony scene, and I thought I’d make it into an actual lil scenario with Bobby. Hope it’s coool :)
It had to be close to midnight bynow.
The party had started when the sunwas still hanging in the sky, and now it was so dark you could barelydistinguish the outlines of your feet when you looked down and took careful
steps across the rooftop. Even from up there, the booming music from inside was
picked up by your ears, as well as the shouting from the many teenagers in the
This wasn’t particularly your
“scene”, and you couldn’t lie to yourself and say otherwise, but a couple days
ago the idea of coming to this party and trying to have a good time sounded
interesting to you.
But you grew tired of the dancing,
and the yelling, and the house full of rowdy teenagers who shared no interests
with you. So instead, you stepped out of the house and somehow made your way
onto the rooftop, where you were able to find the perfect spot to sit and look
up at the night sky.
Bobby,Junhwe and Donghyuk's reaction when you mix up your languages out of exhaustion?? I.e when you speak in korean but end up using a chinese phrase or two in the sentence..
Bobby: Though he’d be surprised at first and say something along the lines of “Wait, what?”, he’d quickly come around and realize that what you said was, in fact, not in Korean. After he does so, he’ll get really excited and ask you if you can speak some more phrases in your other language, even though he won’t understand a thing you’re saying. He might even ask you to teach him some phrases, and will continually tease you about “the time you accidentally started speaking to him in another language mid-sentence”.
Junhoe: He won’t realize that you’re speaking in another language, at first, and try to interpret your phrase as being in Korean, which may lead to an odd/misleading situation. After you clear things up by telling him that you had accidentally spoken in another language, he’ll try to laugh off his own foolishness by trying to change the subject to why you would do such a thing in the first place. Once he realizes that you did it out of exhaustion, he’ll express a bit of concern, and, if he knows a phrase or two in your language related to sleep, he’ll say those as he rushes you back to your room so that you two can take a nap.
Donghyuk: He’d just stare at you for a few moments, trying to figure out what the heck you just said. It would then dawn on him that you had just spoken to him in a different language, and he’d be both amused and confused. If he has a basic understanding of the language you accidentally spoke to him in, he’ll respond with some words from that language, before laughing and asking if you messed up your languages because you’re tired. Once you admit that that is indeed the case, he’ll sigh and tell you to get some more rest, using aegyo to convince you to let him treat you on a date or take you somewhere else where you can relax.