Dark Tendencies: A Female Reader x Dean Winchester Fic

3

Y/N's POV

Dean Winchester. I just saved Dean fuckin' Winchester.

A vast majority of the hunters in the country all knew each other well. Everyone partnered up now and again to take on a multi-person job, and they all kinda had their own little network. I preferred the lone-wolf persona, so I wasn't really in their clique or on the company mailing list, per say.

But any hunter worth their salt knew who the Winchesters were.

They were famous amongst the rest of us. Dean, and his younger brother, Sam. Many hunters knew them personally, and the rest of them, myself included, constantly heard of them through whispers and word of mouth. They were almost legendary.

Rumor has it, the two of them had managed to bring on the biblical apocalypse, and yet still somehow stop it themselves. Dean had been to Hell and Purgatory, while Sam had been in the cage...the cage belonging to Satan himself. I'd even heard that they had a full-blown Angel riding shotgun with them.Their hunting had reached cosmic levels; levels where none of us had ever dared to venture before.

And I just saved the older one from a fucking Siren? How could I not let that go to my head?

I felt like a damn groupie... I had so many questions I wanted to ask him, I wanted to hear every gruesome detail directly from his mouth.

But as he sat across from me at this bar table, swirling a bit of whiskey around in his glass as his green eyes bore into mine, I found it near impossible to formulate any words. I was just fully captivated by his presence alone.... and his appearance.

"So... I guess I do owe you a thank you." he muttered, attempting to break the ice.

"Don't mention it. The drink is thanks enough." I gestured to the glass of scotch in my hand, raising it to my lips and taking a deep swig, fueling up on my liquid courage in order to maintain my confidence around him.

He nodded, his eyes never moving from me as a small smirk formed on his face.

"How long you been in the life for? I gotta be honest....you don't really look like a hunter." his eyes slowly started to wander down my body, and I did my best to stifle the heat rising to my face as he did.

"About nine years. Do hunters have a specific look?" I raised a brow.

He shrugged. "I dunno... all the hunters I've met have been more rugged, more scars, more disheveled...got the thousand-yard-stare and all. You look like you've barely even seen a ghost." he let out a laugh.

I scoffed, setting my drink on the table and folding my arms under my chest.

"I'm damn good at what I do." I shrugged. "And you and I both know you don't really have an issue with my appearance."

His eyes widened slightly. "That's a bold assumption right out the gate, huh?" he sounded amused as he lifted his glass to his lips.

"Yeah, I guess it could be. If the Siren you were macking on a little while ago didn't look exactly like me." I teased.

He choked on his sip of whiskey, spitting it back into the cup as my words caught him off guard, eliciting a loud laugh from me.

I was awestruck by him, and I'd be lying if I said he didn't give me a weird form of butterflies in the pit of my stomach... but this was way too much fun. Not only did I save the infamous Dean Winchester from a second-rate monster... but that second-rate monster revealed his ideal type, which I just so happened to match.

My cockiness was sky-rocketing right now, and it was a high I didn't plan on coming down from any time soon. I considered myself an alpha-female a majority of the time, and the flustered look on his face was just too satisfying to pass up.