Supernatural Reader Inserts [Requests Closed]

Request: Long Term Crush (Reader!Hunter x Dean Winchester)

A request written for Lethalliin! I hope you like it! :)

===========

After another stressful day of investigating yet another case of what could potentially be a werewolf attack, you and the Winchester boys found yourselves in a dingy bar located a few blocks from an equally dingy motel. You weren't all that into drinking and you questioned Sam's alcoholic tendancies as well, but here you were. For Dean, of course.

Typical.

While he was talking to the female bartender at the counter, Sam awkwardly standing by his side, you were in a booth a few feet away. You had a long day and this was really the last place you wanted to be. It was actually quiet at the moment, apparently still a bit too early for everyone to come out drinking. Thank god, you thought to yourself, fiddling with the Celtic cross charm necklace you had wrapped around your wrist as a makeshift bracelet. Being in a crowded place after a strenuous day was not ideal, so you were grateful that you actually lucked out. Besides you and the boys, there were only a couple of other people in the entire place.

It had been like this a lot lately, the stress was building up due to the sudden influx of cases. When you originally teamed up with the boys to search for the yellow eyed demon, supernatural happenings only made it to your priority list sporadically. But as of late, they've been appearing back to back, calling for all of your attention.

It was a good thing, it kept you busy and on your feet; it kept your skills honed and your attention focused. But at the same time, you often wondered if any of this was helping you get closer to finding the demon that killed your mother. Every day you could be getting further and further from your goal, but you could never know.

You let out a sigh and glanced over at the Winchesters across the room. Dean still had his attention on the bartender, whom at this point was obviously flirting back. Sam turned to look at you over his shoulder and your eyes met, he sent a smile and a small wave of encouragement your way. You returned it halfheartedly. It wasn't so much that you hated drinking, which caused you to hate bars...what you really hated was seeing Dean Winchester flirting with every girl who would throw herself at him. Which was basically everyone he came into contact to. Yes, he was that attractive.

The bartender was the epitome of feminine. Long red locks that curled around her shoulders, bright blue eyes with long eye lashes that she batted so often at Dean whenever he said a stupid pickup line... You growled under your breath as you heard her giggle. I could make Dean say stupid shit like that to me too, if I really wanted to, but I'm not that... your thoughts trailed off as you tried to suppress the competitive side of your personality. Some things weren't worth getting worked up about.

You looked down at yourself, noting the difference between that girl's tight fitting work clothes and your overtly baggy outfit. You could be girly if you wanted to, you could be "pretty" if you wanted to. You did have delicate features and a small frame, but who had time for that? You were a hunter, giving thought to your appearance wasn't exactly something you were taught to care about. Besides, your father's old leather biker jacket (which you sported quite well, by the way) went well with your overall casual look... 

Whatever, you thought to yourself as you tried to mentally change subjects. I shouldn't have to change myself for a boy. This isn't the 1950s. You bit you lower lip, telling yourself you weren't bitter. 

The doors to the bar opened and a crowd of people came in. Oh great, you said to yourself. Is this girl's night? You took note of the female to male ratio of the group that walked in. A few male eyes found their gaze landing on you. Some winked, some smiled, but you didn't respond. You only had eyes for one person and it had been that way for a while now. Though he never did seem to notice.

No, not Dean Winchester. He was so dense sometimes. It was your little secret, but a secret you wish he'd find out about already. You didn't have the courage to tell him yourself, no matter how blunt and straight forward you were with other people. When it came to matters of the heart, you were incapable of stopping yourself from becoming embarrassed, let alone structure proper sentences.

The noise in the bar increased at this point, making you even more annoyed than you were before. You didn't want to be here, you were tired and still had to do more research for the current case. But no, Dean wanted to 'relax a bit', Dean wanted to 'have some fun.' What did this have to do with you? You had no idea, it's not like he was even checking up to see if you were having any 'fun'. He literally made a beeline for the bartender the moment he laid his eyes on her. That was an hour ago.

You caught Sam looking at you again and at this point he had started to make his way towards you. You inhaled deeply and calmed yourself, plastering a smile on your face as he sat down across the table. "What's up?" you asked.

"More like what's up with you," Sam responded, reaching out to tap your forehead with his index finger. "You've been sulking over here for a while now, and I know when you're not in a good mood."

"I'm just tired," you tried to play it off. The last thing you wanted was Sam finding out about your long term crush.

"And pissed for some reason." He gave you a look, raising his eyebrows in an expression that showed that he knew something was up and he wasn't about to let it go until you told him about it. You tried to produce a laugh to brush him off, but it failed.

"I'm fine, honest, I really am just tired and I don't want to be here."

"Uh-huh," he was not convinced.

Typical.

Maybe you really did want to tell him, but then what good would that do exactly? Sam would tell Dean? Sam would try to hook you two up? Nah...that would be so awkward. Your relationship had to have some form of boundary, right...? Your brain ran through a few ideas, trying to think of an excuse that was convincing enough to him.

You heard Dean laughing from across the room and you turned to see what was going on. The bartender was leaning across the counter with her elbows resting on it, her face just a few inches away from Dean's. So much for professional boundaries.

Sam's eyes followed your gaze and saw the end of the trail, just in time to hear you let out an annoyed scoff.

That's it, I'm done with this. You stood up while slamming your palms on the surface of the table. "I told you, Sam," you said in an assertive tone. "I'm tired. I'm going back to the motel."

Caught off guard by the sudden turn of attitude, Sam stuttered over himself as he tried to gather what had happened. "W-wait, you--Dean has the car keys, and it's not like he'll let you drive--"

You cut him off, "I'll walk." You left the booth and made your way towards the exit, your boots made heavy footsteps which apparently caught Dean's attention because he yelled after you.

"Hey, (Y/N)! Where you going? It's barely 9pm!"

Now he's paying attention to me? You didn't oblige him with an answer as you pushed open the doors and slammed them behind you.