- Got rid of #Gun
- Got rid of ShotGun
- Got rid of Gunhee
- Got rid of Song Gunhee
- Got rid of a good rapper
-Got rid of the funniest member
- GOT RID OF JOOHEONS BEST FRIEND FOR FUCK SAKE I HATE YOU STARSHIP
Anonymous said: Hi! You are wonderful and I love your writings. If you have time, could you write an Imagine where the reader has a big crush on Sam. And Dean and the reader have to save Sam on a hunt where he is tortured and he almost dies? With lot’s of Sam x Reader fluff? Thank you!! (:
A/N: Wow, this turned out much larger than I initially thought it would! Anyhow, I hope you like it.
Word count: 2,017
Pairing: Sam x Reader
Warnings: mentions of blood, one swear, and mentions of torture.
Sam was supposed to call half an hour ago. He was a town away from the Bunker, taking down what you suspected was a demon. He had phoned in about two hours ago, telling you that he was going into the demon’s hiding place and that it wasn’t going to take long. Since then, you had already left him various messages and texts, but he had yet to reply. Your worry only increased by the minute, and after some more pacing around your room, you finally decided that it was time to take action.
You found Dean in the library, looking at something on his laptop. You cleared your throat to get his attention, and suppressed a smile when Dean hurriedly shut the computer. He threw you an annoyed look which was quickly replaced with a frown when he saw how unease you were.
“You know how Sam went to hunt that demon?” You said, and Dean nodded, straightening up in his seat. “He was supposed to check in with me over thirty minutes ago, Dean!”
Dean visibly relaxed, raising his eyebrows as he smirked. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “(Y/N), are you sure this hasn’t got anything to do with, well, your feelings towards my brother?”
“Ugh, you are unbelievable,” you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the blush that adorned your face. Dean hadn’t stopped teasing you about your crush on Sam ever since he’d found out about it.
“C’mon, (Y/N), you know Sammy, he’s capable of killing a demon,” Dean replied, but his words failed to sooth you.
“I know, I just…I have a feeling that something’s wrong,” you sighed, looking down. Then, with a sudden urge of strength, you looked up again. “Dean, please, I think Sam’s in trouble.”
“Okay, but if he’s offended I’m blaming you,” he said, getting up from his chair with a small groan.
After making sure that you had the address of where the demon was staying at, you and Dean hopped into the impala, Survivor blasting through the speakers as the eldest Winchester drove. There had only been a few times when you’d been ridding shotgun, and if the circumstances where different you would have been enjoying yourself right now, but they weren’t. You kept glancing at your watch, fumbling with your hands as you tried to calm down. The sky started to darken, and the last rays of sun faded away along with your hope of finding Sam completely unharmed.
“(Y/N), I’m sure he’s fine,” Dean said suddenly, adverting his eyes from the road to look at you. “Maybe he just forgot or something.”
“Sam never forgets,” you mumbled. Just ten more minutes. “And that wouldn’t explain why he hasn’t replied to my texts or calls.”
“He could be showering,” Dean suggested, but you knew that even he didn’t believe that. The rest of the ride was passed with tense silence which gave enough to for your mind wander to the worst possible scenarios.
Dean parked in front of a decent-looking motel, and you took a quick look around the parking lot as you got out. Sure enough, the car Sam had taken from the Bunker was there, which meant that he was still inside. You joined Dean at the back of the Impala, grabbing a gun and a blade from the trunk.
“I hope you know the room number,” Dean grumbled, “I don’t really like the idea of someone calling the cops.”
“Room seventeen,” you nodded, checking Sam’s last text just in case. You could feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you made your way to the room. You pressed your ear against the door, listening intently for anything while Dean picked the lock. And then you heard it; Sam’s scream.
Without a second thought, Dean pushed the door opened, and you stopped yourself from gasping. Sam was tied to chair, his head bobbing as he tried to keep awake. There was a long, deep cut across his chest along with other smaller wounds across his arms and legs. In front of him was a blonde man who turned around when you burst in, and for a second his eyes turned black.
There was a moment of hesitation before the demon launched at you and Dean, which was a huge mistake. Though the demon made you fall down, he was quickly stabbed by Dean with Ruby’s knife, effectively killing him. You pushed the demon off you and quickly rushed to Sam, holding his face in your hands while Dean untied him.
“Hey Sammy, Sammy stay with me, okay?” You whispered, pushing back the tears that wanted to form in your eyes; now was not the time to cry. You let your hands trace the cut he had on his jaw, muttering a “sorry” when Sam flinched.
“(Y/N)…” Sam said weakly, and you tried to smile for his sake. Dean threw the ropes that bid him aside and with your help got Sam on his feet. You put his arm around your shoulders and Dean did the same, half dragging him back to the car. Dean laid him down on the back seat with you, holding his head on your lap as you took your jacket off and put pressure to the wound on his chest.
“Hang in there, little brother,” you heard Dean mumble as he sped off to the Bunker. Your heart thumped furiously as you brushed some of Sam’s soft hair out of his face. You could see that he was trying not to fall unconscious, but the loss of blood was gaining on him. His face was paler than ever, making the red on his body look even more pronounced, and you felt like looking away.
You arrived at the Bunker in what felt like no time at all, and hastily took Sam to his room. Dean placed him on the bed with care, and you knelt to his side tears falling silently as Sam completely passed out. You barely heard Dean saying something, which was why you were startled when Cas appeared by your side.
“Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel said, but the confusion on his face vanished as he looked at Sam. Without missing a beat, the angel placed his hand on Sam’s forehead, and a light blue light radiated off his wounds as they were healed. You and Dean sighed of relief in unison, though you became concerned when Sam hadn’t woken up.
“Sam?” Your voice sounded feeble, and you began to panic when he didn’t respond.
“Don’t worry, (Y/N), he just needs rest,” Cas said, setting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You nodded and without warning engulfed Castiel in a tight hug. He returned the embrace awkwardly, gently patting your back.
“Thank you, Cas,” you said after you let him go. Dean also hugged the angel, though more briefly, and also thanked him.
“I’m certain that Sam will wake up soon, if you’re still concerned about that, (Y/N),” Castiel said, smiling softly at you. You had the suspicion that he knew how you felt about him, and if he didn’t already, you made it pretty clear by blushing at his comment.
“Uh, thanks Cas,” you stuttered, looking down.
“You are welcomed,” he replied, giving you a wider smile before announcing that he needed to go back to heaven.
“Well, I’m turning in for the night,” Dean yawned, taking one last look at his brother. “I’ll just check on Sam later. What about you, (Y/N), staying here with Sammy?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you rolled your eyes, but your blush only deepened, “I’ll just wait for him to wake up.”
“Okay then,” Dean said, throwing a wink at you before walking out of the room. You rolled your eyes one more time before sitting next to Sam, the bed sinking underneath you. About ten minutes later, Sam started to stir, but he kept his eyes closed, so you thought he was still asleep.
“God, I hope you don’t think it’s creepy that I’m watching you sleep,” you said, chuckling softly to yourself as you gently brushed Sam’s hair. “But I just…I really want to make sure your okay, Sammy. You know, you had me and Dean really worried for a moment there. I know Dean couldn’t bare the thought of loosing you, and neither could I, because—well, because I love you. I love the way you laugh, the way you care so much about everyone, and how you can make me feel better in an instant; I love the way your eyes shine when I get you your favourite godforsaken salad, or how you don’t mind me putting my feet on your seat even when you’re too big for it. Damn, Sam Winchester, I love you.”
You sighed, feeling really stupid for talking for someone who was obviously not listening to you. But it felt good to finally get it off your chest; sure, Dean and Castiel knew that you liked Sam, but they didn’t actually think that you were in love with him.
“You do?” You jumped at Sam’s deep voice, placing a hand over your mouth to stop you from gasping.
“How much did you hear?” You asked, looking anywhere but at him. You could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, and deeply wondered why you had bothered to get up this morning.
“All of it,” Sam said, and you could practically hear the smile on his face. You forced yourself to look at him, ready to get over all of this. His eyes were sparkling with something you couldn’t quite figure out, and you were wondering why he was grinning like mad; after all, you hadn’t expected Sam to make fun of you.
“I suppose this is the part when you tell me that you don’t feel the same way,” you said sadly, biting your lip as you looked away again.
“(Y/N),” Sam sighed; here we go, you had just ruined your closest friendship and now you were about to hear the man you loved telling you to move on. “I love you too.”
Okay, that did not just happened.
“What?” You asked with disbelief. The great Sam Winchester like you? Was this some sort of bad joke?
“I love you, (Y/N),” Sam repeated with the smile that made you fall for him in the first place. “(Y/N), I’ve loved you for a while now—hell, probably even longer, but it took me a long time to find out why I felt this way about you. But yeah…I love you.”
You had leaned over as he spoke, and now you were just a few inches away from him. There was a small moment in which you glanced at his lips and him at yours, but then you felt as his mouth moved passionately against yours, and you forgot everything else. You ran your hands through his hair as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pressing you closer to him. Sam’s tongue ran over your bottom lip, making you let out a small moan.
It had been months since the last time you had made out with somebody, and mind you, that was when you had been drunk. But as the minutes went on and the everything started to get more intense, you knew that you had to stop.
“Sam, I think we should save it for tomorrow,” you breathed, letting your forehead rest against his. Sam gave a small, playful pout, but nevertheless smiled, happily gathering you in his arms and laying you down with him.
“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Sam whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. You closed your eyes and put your arms around his middle, snuggling into the crook of his neck.
“Goodnight, Sammy,” you mumbled back, sleep taking over you.
And so, that was how Dean found you an hour later, and even though he would never admit it, he felt like you were the best thing that had ever happened to his brother.
Starke! You seem to know quite a bit about guns. Can you talk a bit about sawed-off shotguns for me? I've been trying to research them forever, but they're illegal to sell where I live so I don't get a lot of good information, just a lot of YouTube vids on how to make them. I'm mostly wondering what a standard size/weight is, what the damage is in comparison to a full-sized shotgun, and how easy it would be to carry/conceal it. Any information would be hugely appreciated!!!
Almost by definition, there isn’t a standard size or weight. A sawed off shotgun is just an illegally modified weapon, that’s been cut down to make it easier to conceal.
In general, civilian pump action shotguns tend to be roughly 6.5 to 7 lbs. Barrel length varies depending on what the shotgun is intended for. Hunting shotguns frequently have ~28” barrels, combat versions frequently have ~18” ones or shorter.
The weapon itself can easily add another 20” inches to the overall length, so you’ll end up with a 38” firearm. (I’m using the Remington 870 as an example if anyone’s curious.) At slightly over three feet, you could reasonably stuff it under a full trench and go on with your day.
With a shotgun, the barrel’s length doesn’t affect it’s damage, but it does affect the spread. Longer barrels will have a narrower spread, and be effective at greater ranges.
Cutting the barrel down results in a wider spread and a shorter range weapon, in addition to making it easier to conceal.
With a pump-action (or tube fed semi-auto) shotgun, you can’t gut the barrel shorter than the magazine (the second tube running under the barrel). So, that’s a hard limit, and it will vary even with specific shotgun models.
The Remington 870 I mentioned above has varying magazine capacities ranging from 4 to 7 shells. Doing some quick math; a 12 gauge shotgun shell is between 2.5 and 2.75 inches, so, your 7 shell magazine could be nearly 20 inches long, meaning you couldn’t cut enough off a 20 inch barrel for it to matter.
The second thing that can be cut is the stock. This will reduce your ability to properly stabilize the shotgun, but, again, it will make it easier to conceal. Ignoring bullpups, I’m not aware of any shotguns that actually run vital components into the stock, but that is an issue with some rifles (including the entire M16/M4 family), so if you’re starting with some exotic full auto shotgun, getting rid of the stock might cause problems.
With a breach loading shotgun, you can cut it down to an almost pistol sized weapon. Anecdotally, these will have a very wide spread, though I couldn’t tell you what their effective range is or what they weigh. You might be able to stash one of these in a custom shoulder holster, and it might be short enough to hide under a jacket.
Small military/law enforcement shotguns for use in close quarters exist, and these can end up with 10” barrels. Combined with the pistol grip, you can end up with a shotgun that’s under 20” long. This won’t quite fit under a jacket, but a thigh length coat should be able to conceal it.
I don’t know the weight for those, but at a guess, I’d stick it at around 5 to 6lbs.
The primary use for sawed off shotguns is going to be indoors in cramped spaces, where a full length weapon would get in the way or be awkward to use. Homes and apartments are the primary examples. Existing compact shotguns are used primarily as breaching weapons, to destroy a door’s latch and hinges with a frangible round before entry.
It might also be worth it to look at this post from July. That was about a near future urban combat environment, but some of the details might be applicable, so long as you remember the specific weapon names I was picking were more for giving them high tech looking weapons rather than actual combat workhorses. (I’m specifically linking to my response to ProRonin because I forgot to talk about carbines in the original post, not for the powered armor.)