Supernatural Smut

Don't Touch Her Pt. 1 (Dean X Reader)

Author's note: (y/f/n) you basically chose your favorite name or a friend's name. Just wanted to inform you when you get to that part lol.

Your POV

The dingy smell of musty water and iron greeted me as I slowly awoke. Apparent of the sore ache in my arms flowing down to the cold touch on my knees. My head began to throb as the world around me came into focus. Instinctively I reach for my forehead to realize they are restrained above my head. Adrenaline began to course through me, as I continued to gain consciousness of the severity of the situation. Scanning the room, two things became clear this place was secluded possibly underground and the iron smell that coated it was the foreboding scent of blood. Slowly the events leading to this came flooding back one by one, the hunt and the fight. Just one thought came to mind at that moment, Dean was going to kill me.
It all started three days ago, back in the bunker as Dean and I sat opposing one another the only sound was the flipping of pages accompanied by the occasional sips of coffee. Sam was unfortunately on a supply run, although it was extremely necessary given our last hunt that ended with our return to a fridge filled with expired and moldy substances. However, without Sam here the bunker seemed eerily quiet. If you asked me, the reason was based upon Dean's lack of interest in me beyond the occasional hunting-based order or command. Should someone ask Sam, knowing his love for his brother, he would say it had more to do with Dean's interest not to say the wrong thing. A notion he often says to me following a fight, which I often have with the elder Winchester. Most days the words fall flat, but there are more that brings me to the verge of leaving the brothers. Dean had found me wondering after my entire family was killed by a nest of vampires. I was so angry and lost in the world with the lust for the blood of every monster I could find. I was rough, but the Winchesters took me in, and over time that anger dulled with each kill. It all started out okay, but Dean's overprotective nature has increased with each hunt, it's gotten to the point I have thought multiple times about going back to hunting alone. Then the nights of comfort when I was having nightmares, those spent bonding over bar food, and countless other moments of happiness come flooding to the front of my mind. Still, some days Dean could make those memories seem less worth it which ultimately hurt even more. At first, it was apparent at our first meeting that Dean Winchester was an attractive man, I've seen numerous women melt at his gaze alone. Starting out with the brothers I was too distracted by my own rage to see him or rather who he is. By the time I realized it, Dean began to change how he treated me, and I decided it was in our best interest to remain as we were. I never thought it would get to the point where Dean and I in a room together would be reduced to silence. I gaze towards the clock, wishing for the time to whiz by when the familiar roar of an impala drew my complete attention. Hearing the collision of footsteps descending and reverbing against the thick walls, I readily got up and was ready to help Sam with the bags.

"Dean! (Y/n)! I got a case." Sam shouted as he ran into the bunker, I readily met his appearance taking a small portion of the bags into the kitchen. Dean finally looked up from the book giving Sam a peculiar glance.

"What we got Sammy?" Dean asked in his blunt yet stern tone, deep down I'm sure eager for another hunt. Possibly the biggest flaw of the Winchesters, the hunt was a way of life, their so-called family business.

"While at the store I saw this article, a bunch of girls in this tourist town have been going missing. Get this though, there's been one survivor who claims the kidnapper could shed their skin." Sam reads off from the paper he held in his hands, beaming at the both of us like a child with a new toy. Typical of his personality but uncalled for given the article's contents.

"It has be a shapeshifter, I've never heard of anything else shedding its skin. We better get there before more innocent girls get hurt," I said, taking the newspaper from Sam and taking a glance at the article. It's been years since I encountered a shapeshifter, they were a rare breed these days. Not to mention, extremely crafty individuals as they often gain memories and insight into who they copy. For a moment I felt my hopes rise at being able to see a shifter or more importantly hunt one when Dean spoke up.