Bad Cop | Dean Winchester x reader

Bad Cop

You smirked to yourself, leaning back with a nonchalant sigh and propping your feet on the interrogation table in front of you. You leaned your chair back, balancing it effortlessly, folding your hands behind your head. Your eyes flick up to the frustrated man in front of you. Irritation radiated from his tall, muscular frame in waves.

"I need to know why you were in that bar last night." His green eyes flashed when you rolled your eyes.

"Dean, was it?" You asked, cocking your head to the side in a mocking way. His eyes clouded with anger. You didn't care. "Why do you need to know anything? My business sure as hell ain't any of your business."

His hands slammed on the hard wood of the table, making you jump and your chair nearly slide out from underneath you.

"Sweetheart, your business seems to be the cause of over 10 innocent people getting their guts yanked out of their stomachs!" Dean yelled, his deep, menacing voice alarming you. You cleared your throat awkwardly and tried to pass off your moment of weakness.

You avoided his eyes. "I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Really. Then I guess that's why we found you standing in the middle of that bar covered in blood!"

You met his eyes suddenly, anger of your own boiling up inside of you like a venomous serpent. Telling this Dean the truth was absolutely out of the question. It'd only get you locked up in a mental hospital for the rest of your life.

"Look," you seethed through your teeth, fury surging through your veins and settling in your coiled muscles, "I can't tell you why I was there. But one thing I sure as hell can tell you is that I had nothing to do with all of those people dying!"

Dean stood straighter, his lip curling in menace and his eyes staring down at you with disdain. The venomous monster inside your chest growled. You hated it when people looked at you like that, like you were some dirty thing that needed to be stomped out. Dean circled the table, roughly yanking his tie from around his neck. You ignored the primal thoughts that quickly popped into your conscious at the look in his eye and the way the now slightly-unbuttoned shirt revealed a sliver of toned chest. His flawless jaw clenched and he was suddenly in front of you, his face inches from your own, and before you knew it, your hands were tied in front of you in an impenetrable knot.

You huffed in shock and indignation, but mostly at yourself. You were a hunter, for God's sake, you should've seen that one coming. You were perfectly capable of taking on a fully-grown vamp nest by yourself but you were distracted by a pretty face for two seconds and a crooked cop had managed to tie you like a prized hog in seconds flat.

Dean put both hands on the armrests of your chair, his face remaining inches from your own. His hot, sporadic breath fanned your face. You cursed inwardly when you realized that he was just as handsome up close. His clear green eyes stared into yours unforgivingly.

"If you're not gonna play nice, then I won't either," he whispered smugly, surging your anger enough to temporarily overtake your hormones.

"I'm. Not. The. Killer." You're voice was clipped and as much as you wished the menace in it matched his, it came off as less threatening. His face only twisted more, and it actually made you uncomfortable with him this close. You felt unsafe for the first time in that room.

"Look, I don't have time to play around," he hissed, and you suddenly realized there was a knife in his hand. What kind of cop was this?! The blade was at your throat before you could blink. Before you knew it, you were in hunter mode, and it all happened so fast.

You stomped both of your feet onto his as hard as you possibly could, causing him to jump in shock and eliciting a loud curse from him. The next second, you planted your boots against his kneecaps and pushed, launching your chair back feet away from him, hopping out of it and kicking it as hard as you could towards him, but he didn't stay stunned for long. The knife was flying through the air towards your right shoulder, but you dodged it effortlessly. It slid into the wall behind you, a part of the blade still exposed, and in one swift sweep of your arms, the soft tie bounding your hands was falling into slices on the ground at your feet.