Ready Aim Fire

Ready Aim Fire

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Word Count: 1020

Summary: Dean shows Y/n how to shoot a gun.

A/N: Happy birthday to Dean Winchester! May he have all the pies he wants.

gif not mine, credit to whoever owns it.

“You say you want to be a hunter, princess, but do you even know how to shoot a gun?” Dean asked, making eye contact with you. You, stubborn as ever, rolled your eyes and crossed your arms on your chest. “No, I don’t. But nobody was born knowing how. Somebody had to teach them. Somebody even had to teach you. So, why can’t you show me how to shoot a gun? I might surprise you,” you said, voice challenging.

He held your gaze for a long minute, apparently trying to decide whether to try to teach you how to shoot or not. In the end, you won, and he nodded.

“Very well. I’ll show you,” he said begrudgingly, pushing himself off the doorframe, which he had been leaning against.

“The shooting range is this way, follow me,” he muttered, walking out of the kitchen and heading to the shooting range.

“Here we are,” he announced, pushing the door open. He turned the lights on and they flickered into life, illuminating the distant targets on paper and the grey concrete walls.

“Our goal for today is to make sure your stance is proper and that you can hit the target. Proper stance will soon be forgotten in an actual fight, but we want you to improve on your aim right now,” he explained irritably, trying not to lose his patience.

“And I ought to warn you now, before it’s too late; being a hunter isn’t a field trip. It’s dangerous. It could cost you your life, the life of the people you care about. The reward is only emotional, and the recognition is nonexistent. You have the chance to turn away now. You have the chance to live a normal life, free of worry about ghosts and demons and angels. If you walk away right now, this whole thing will be just a distant memory,” here, Dean turned to face you. His expression was grave and serious. “If you walk away right now, you can have a family and friends.”

You looked up at him defiantly. “I’ve been living a normal life all my life, and I’m bored out of my wits. That’s not what I want for myself. Now, teach me how to shoot a damn gun,” you said and, with a sigh, Dean took his gun out of its holster.

“Watch closely,” he instructed, “You’ll have to copy my movements when it’s your turn, so pay attention. Your feet have to be shoulder width apart and slightly bent, and your arms have to be fully extended,” he said, reciting the information from memory. He himself adopted the stance and squared his shoulders. He cocked the gun, pressed the trigger and a bullet flew straight through the head of one of the silhouettes on the targets.

Dean then turned to look at you, carefully handing you the gun.

You nervously walked up to where he had been standing and tried your best to replicate his picture-perfect stance. You took aim as best as you could and squeezed the trigger. The bullet barely managed to hit the very edge of the paper target. To your surprise, Dean had a look on his face that said ‘not bad’.

You turned back towards the target to examine your shot, which really wasn’t all that bad. “Quite good,” Dean’s voice said from directly behind you, his breath tickling the back of your neck, and you gave a tiny squeak in surprise. You hadn’t realised he had walked up to be standing where he was now. You heard him give a low chuckle at your reaction, and that small sound sent shivers down your spine. Admittedly, Dean Winchester was a very attractive man, and standing as you were at that moment, with his toned chest almost pressing against your back, awoke a fire deep in your belly.

“You still need to work on your stance a little bit,” he said, his hands ghosting touches on your arms and lower back and waist as he gently guided you into the proper position. When he was satisfied, he instructed you to extend your arms in front of you, and you did as asked. From behind you, he mirrored your movements and extended his arms as well, to correct your grip on the gun.

“Now, shoot,” he muttered in his deep voice, and you aimed carefully before pressing the trigger. This time, you managed to hit the outer rim of the target’s body, and you grinned in success, turning to face Dean. Having forgotten about your proximity, you uttered a small ‘oh’ when you found yourself chest-to-chest with the hunter. He grinned down at you and carefully took the gun from your grip, putting the safety back on and tucking it back into its holster.

“You could be a good hunter,” he commented casually, before leaning down closer to you to cover some of the distance between you. “Providing you’d stick to hunting with us, I can make you into one of the best hunters ever,” he said, but you weren’t paying attention to his words; only his lips. Your eyes were locked on them and you felt as if you were in a trance. Apparently, he’d noticed, because he brought his hand up to your chin, softly nudging it up so that your gaze met his.

Dean leaned down, you stretched up, and your lips met in a wonderful, mesmerising kiss that set your nerve edges on fire. He deepened the kiss by tilting his head and opening his mouth just wide enough so that his tongue could lick your lips and enter your own mouth. At that, you gave a small moan and snaked your arms around his neck for stability. The kiss went on like that for quite some time until you both pulled apart, panting, but very happy.

“So, what do you say? D’you really wanna become a hunter?” Dean murmured in a voice that was huskier than normal. You nodded.

“Oh hell yes,” you whispered in reply, and leaned up to kiss him again; the second time just as magical as the first.

I'm here for you.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 825

Warnings: Spoilers for season five, feels.

A/N: Hope y’all like it~ 

It was in that moment, that heart-shattering moment, in which you saw every last bit of Dean’s reserve crumble to dust as Sam, possessed by Lucifer, made his exit. Dean put his hands to his head in complete and utter despair, and in that one moment you saw a person you had never seen before. All of the hunter’s tough layers had peeled off and for the first time, you saw how much of a mess he actually was, how much pain he had had to endure in his life and how he had never allowed all that pain to exit his body. It was like seeing the tallest building crumble, a proud ruler kneel, an empire fall. And without a second thought, you rushed to his side to help him. You knew you were but the tiniest rock trying to hold back a flood, but you were all Dean needed in that moment. You put your arms gently around him, pulling him closer and gently stroking his back.

“Sam’s gonna be okay, Dean. He’s strong enough to pull through, he’s strong enough to take control over Lucifer and get this over and done with. I… I know he’s not coming back if he succeeds, but he will be remembered as the greatest hunter of all time. The smartest, the best,” you whispered, and he didn’t reply, but he hugged you closer to him, embracing you tightly. His breathing was uneven, and the tears were still flowing freely from his eyes, but he remained silent, and you took that as a silent invitation to go on with your consoling speech.

“And you’ll have his memory always with you,” you pulled away from his hug slightly to place your hand over the left side of his chest, where you could feel his heart flutter under his shirt.

“Right there,” you smiled up at him, a tad shyly, and while he did not smile back, he nodded.

“That still won’t be good enough. Sammy can’t be replaced by some memory, no matter how good that memory is,” he said, his voice deeper than usual from crying. He chewed on that plump lower lip of his unconsciously, and you couldn’t help but find your gaze drawn to the movement of his lips. Before you did anything rash, you shook your head ever so slightly to clear it, and then you took a deep breath to continue talking.

“I know a memory will never be adequate. I know nothing could ever be as good as Sam was; nothing could ever fill that hole inside you, but… for what it’s worth, I’ll always be here for you. Promise.” Pain flashed through his eyes for a millisecond. A new kind of pain, not the soul-wrecking one he’d been feeling up to that moment.

“How do you know that? How can you know that you’ll be here? You can’t promise things you know aren’t up to you. Sam was here for me yesterday, but now he isn’t.  Now, Satan’s wearing him as a meat suit and I am losing him. I have already lost him,” Dean managed to choke out between sobs, and a new wave of tears flowed out of his eyes. He grit his teeth as he shut his eyes tightly.

“I want this to end,” he whispered so silently you barely heard him, but that one simple phrase of his held so much meaning that the very force of his words caused you to shiver.

“Dean…” you murmured his name softly, and when he didn’t look at you, you repeated his name, slightly more forcefully this time.

“What is it?” he asked cracking his still teary eyes open, and you offered him the tiniest of encouraging smiles.

“I can’t promise you that I’ll always be here, but I can promise you I’ll try my best to be here for you for as long as I can,” you said, and his brilliant green eyes flickered with the tiniest spark of hope.

“Thank you,” he muttered, because he knew that when you gave your word you tried your damnedest to keep it. Your small smile grew into a grin, and you couldn’t help but notice his eyes travel down to your mouth. When your lips met Dean’s, it felt like a train wreck and a lullaby all at once. It was almost overwhelming. His kiss was forceful, needy, but there was an undertone of tenderness to the way his tongue explored your mouth and his teeth nipped on your lower lip. This was the first kiss you’d shared, and odds were it’d be the last, but the caress of Dean’s lips on yours felt comforting and wonderful, and you didn’t care that he was kissing you mostly because he needed an outlet for all of his pent-up emotions. Your heart beat for him, and you had given him your word. You’d be there for him no matter what ne needed.

SHERLOCK FANDOM RIGHT NOW

Why don’t you two just elope?

Moriarty asking what we’ve been wanting to know like forever. (via cumberfoil)

Please, kill me.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 864

Warnings: Feels, spoilers for season ten, cursing

Summary: Dean asks something of Y/N, something she’s not sure she can do...

A/N: Hope you like it!

“Y/n,” Dean called out to you, voice surprisingly steady, as if he was struggling to keep it that way.

“I have something to tell you,” he said when you had made your way to him, sitting down on a chair next to him.

“Go on,” you said with a small smile, your gentle voice softly urging him on. You had realised the severity of the situation because of the look in his green eyes. You had never seen him like this, and it took you a bit by surprise. He was frowning, and his whole face had a clouded expression of thoughtfulness, but his eyes were practically talking to you. They were full of despair, and full of something else, too; something you couldn’t quite place, but it was there and the hurt it radiated was almost palpable.

You reached out and gently squeezed one of his hands, trying to reassure him.

Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if composing himself. For a second, you were cut off from the torrent of emotions pouring out of his eyes, and this time when he opened them again, you were prepared.

“I...” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I want to tell you something. It’s... something very important.” He took one last deep breath before finally saying what he had wanted to tell you from the start.

“If... if anything happens to me; if I ever become the same murderous son of a bitch I was when I had the Mark... I... want you to do something for me,” he said, fixing you with a steady gaze. “In the line of work we’re in, you know that it’s entirely possible for the same thing to happen to me again. I don’t want that. I don’t want you and Sam and Cas to see me go through all that again. It’s not fair for you; it’s not fair for me; and most of all it’s not fair for the people I would mercilessly kill and their families.” Here, he paused to regain his bearings, and he tiredly rubbed his eyes with his free hand, the one you weren’t holding.

You were almost unable to breathe. You had the slightest idea of what he wanted you to do for him, and you were hoping he’d say something else, something less serious.

“I want you to kill me,” he stated, and that six-word sentence seemed to be your whole world in that moment. Like a mantra, it played again and again in your head. You were clutching Dean’s hand so tightly that you felt the hunter tense.

“I... I can’t... I could never do what you’re asking of me... Ask Sam...” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“You’re the only one I trust to do this. I know Sam. He’d never kill me, not if I begged him. You... you have to. For your own good. Please.” Dean was desperate now. He had been expecting a negative reaction, but he was determined to get his way.

When you expressed your disagreement again, he sighed, but didn’t give up.

“Please,” he repeated. “It has to happen that way. Not only for you and Sam and Cas, but for myself too. I won’t ever be a normal person again; I can’t take it anymore. So... if it ever comes to that... Kill me,” he said.

This time, you nodded. “Okay.” Your voice was small, hesitant, but it was all Dean had at the moment. And it was enough

“Thank you,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah... you’re welcome,” you whispered, smiling softly. You didn’t really want to smile, but it was either that or bursting into tears, so you decided that the first option was better.

“This means so friggin’ much to me, thanks,” he said, and you could only nod in reply.

You bit hard on your lower lip, and you felt a tear escape your eyes. Dean leaned forward and wiped it away with his thumb.

“Hey... hey, I’m sorry... but I had to say it. I needed to make sure that the world would be safe from me if anything happened again,” he said, and you leaned into his touch.

“Yes... I know. But that won’t stop me from being upset over it,” you murmured.

“But you will do it. If it’s the only option left, you will,” he said, almost as if trying to reassure himself.

“Yes,” you whispered, feeling another tear trickle down your cheek.

Instead of replying, Dean leaned forward to press his lips against yours. At first, it wasn’t much of a kiss; it was more of two pairs of lips touching each other. But then he opened his mouth, and you opened yours, and it was a heated tangle of tongues and limbs as you tried to come impossibly close to one another. When you pulled away, you were both breathing heavily and you had somehow straddled him in the passionate haze of the kiss.

“I said I will do it, but Dean, I don’t want to. I never want to get the chance to.”

Again, he didn’t reply. He just pulled you into another whirlwind of a kiss.

RIP Alan Rickman

I am in shock and disbelief at his death, lets remember all the happiness he brought throughout the years, as our favorite potions master and the bravest man H.P ever knew.