Orion's Hollow
Have you read this? Is there a scene you'd like to see?
I'd like to practice some arts but I'm stuck for scenes. Come at me sickos (affectionate)
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Orion's Hollow
Have you read this? Is there a scene you'd like to see?
I'd like to practice some arts but I'm stuck for scenes. Come at me sickos (affectionate)
What would you like to see?
time
fandom: supernatural
pairing: dean winchester x reader
word count: 1500
rating: mature
summary: sometimes dean just needs time
tags/warnings: established relationship, angst, complex relationships, mother/son relationship,
notes: pls dont come and defend her ive not got my listening ears on (sammys version coming tomorrow!!)
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You didn’t know why you’d said it. Well, actually you did, but you hadn’t meant it to come out like that. But Dean, he pushed. He always did when you were quiet. It didn’t matter that when he got mad, he gave you the silent treatment. It didn’t matter that it would take God himself to pry the words from his lips if he didn’t want you to know what was eating at him.
𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐰𝐨
❈ 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Oklahoma rodeo star!Dean Winchester x cowgirl!reader
❈ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: the Winchesters were well known in the professional rodeo industry. First through John, until an injury abruptly ended his career. Now, it’s Dean’s turn to make a name for himself.
Dean had spent the first twenty years of his life trying to earn the approval of a man who kept moving the finish line.
This was going to be the season where his career took off. He was sure of it.
Until he saw you. You were chasing big dreams in tiny towns dotted across the state. Serving fresh pie and coffee at a diner during the day. Then, chasing hundredths of a second under bright arena lights at night.
Dean had always had his eyes on the scoreboard. Now, his eyes were fixed on you.
❈ 𝘸𝘤: 2.8k
❈ 𝘤𝘸: Oklahoma AU, language, violence/injury, John Winchester is a horrible father (canon), implied abuse, lots of rodeo talk, 17 yo Sammy going back to college, slow burn & yearn, unresolved tension, reader & Dean are in their early 20s.
❈ 𝘢/𝘯: writing as I go so this segment is a little shorter than the last.
𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵
Dean found you back by your trailer after his run. He was sore in more ways than one, feeling every step he took across the paved lot. His teeth were still rattling from jumping off his horse and tackling a calf.
It was still a hundred and one degrees outside as the sun sank over the fairgrounds, but that wasn’t why he was sweating. Well, it wasn’t the only reason he was sweating.
Even sweaty and covered in red dirt, you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Prettier than the purple mountains in Montana. Wilder than a pissed-off bison. Tougher than any cowboy he’d ever worked with. Yet there was another side of you he figured most people didn’t get to see. A warm tenderness that John would call a weakness. He’d felt it in the way you’d pressed that ice pack to his jaw.
Hard enough to soothe the injury, but gentle enough to heal his heart.
Dean was down bad.
He had been since he’d met you at the diner. Until a few hours ago, Dean hadn’t even been sure you liked him. He still wasn’t entirely convinced you hadn’t been trying to kill him with that bar fight. But he’d never prided himself on being the smartest man alive, so here he was.
Back at your trailer.
Ricochet noticed him first, snorting as her ears flicked back momentarily. She was right to be protective. Cowboys could be dirty assholes.
He’d be protective of you, too.
Hell, he already was.
You lifted your head and smiled when you noticed him. A few scratches along Ricochet’s neck disarmed her almost immediately, her body relaxing as she leaned into your touch.
Dean knew the feeling.
“You found me.” You grinned as you ducked beneath the rope tying your horse to the trailer. “How’d you do?”
“Uh, good, I think.” Dean nodded to himself. “Didn’t really stick around to watch anyone else.”
Your expression softened slightly at that.
He didn’t even realize the implication of what he’d said. He figured if he hadn’t done well enough to make Fort Worth, he’d hear about it sooner or later.
“Anyway,” he sighed, trying to move past the subject. “How’d your run go?”
“We ran a sixteen. Not too bad,” you said, gazing affectionately back at Ricochet.
“No,” a feminine voice drawled from somewhere behind him.
Dean turned slightly and spotted a young woman with long dark hair sporting denim, cowboy boots, and brightly colored beadwork.
“Fifteen point nine. Girl’s goin’ to Fort Worth!”
He watched as the woman joined you beside the trailer. Clearly she knew you.
That, or you let strange women store their shit in your trailer.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
You gave her an incredulous look, tilting your head as your eyes narrowed.
“Ugh. Do I even wanna know?”
“I’m makin’ that woman my wife!” the woman called over her shoulder as she walked away.
“Audie’s got a weird thing for older women. Like, older women.” You shuddered before turning your attention back to Dean.
“So…you ran a fifteen point nine?”
You nodded slowly, glancing around like you hadn’t just put down a time that had half the barrel racers at the fairgrounds chasing you.
“That’s a hell of a horse you’ve got there.”
He stepped cautiously toward Ricochet, making sure she could see his hands before resting one against her neck.
Your jaw fell open. Then you laughed.
“‘Hell of a horse?’”
“Yeah?” he answered, suddenly unsure where he’d gone wrong.
“You think she’s the one doin’ all the work, huh?”
Your arms folded across your chest while one eyebrow arched.
Dean rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well… I wouldn’t say all the work.”
He nodded toward Ricochet. “But she sure does run fast.”
You let out an amused little scoff.
“Oh, bless your heart.”
Dean narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“You really believe barrel racing is just sittin’ on a fast horse.”
“Well…” He shrugged.“Ain’t it?”
You stared at him for a beat. Then you smiled.The kind of smile that usually got people into trouble. The one he’d seen before you started a bar fight.
“Go get Blue.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“Get your horse and meet me at that old practice arena.” You pointed toward the uncovered arena at the south end of the fairgrounds.
“What for?”
“So I can embarrass you.”
Dean barked out a laugh.
“Oh, now hold on—”
“Unless,” you interrupted, “you’re scared I’ll prove you wrong.”
His competitive streak immediately took the bait.
“Oh, sweetheart…”
He grinned.
“You don’t know who you’re talkin’ to.”
You started walking backward.
“No.”
You winked.
“I’m talkin’ to Dean Winchester out of Comanche, Oklahoma.” You said in your best announcer voice.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he called after you as he disappeared between rows of trailers.
He obediently tacked Blue up and led him toward the old practice arena. The first thing he saw was you wrestling a rusty barrel across the dirt.
He couldn’t help laughing.
“You need a hand?”
“Nope!”
You gave the barrel one last shove before stepping back to eyeball the pattern.
“Glad to see you didn’t chicken out, Winchester.”
Dean smirked.
“You’re awfully confident.”
“I’ve got reason to be.”
As you walked over, your attention immediately shifted to Blue. Your whole demeanor softened.
“Well hey there, handsome.”
Blue flicked an ear toward your voice. You rubbed his neck with slow, practiced strokes. His muscles twitched beneath your hand before he relaxed with a deep sigh.
Dean watched Blue lower his head toward you to receive more affection. He couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or jealous.
“Bet he cost a pretty penny.”
“Yeah.” Dean chuckled. “He was thirty thousand dollars.”
Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head.
“Thirty thousand?”
“Yep.”
You whistled softly.
“Is that all?”
Dean laughed.
“I don’t know whether you’re makin’ fun of me or my horse.”
“A little bit of both.” You gave him a playful grin that made him nervous. “I paid $500 and a twelve-pack for her.”
Dean tilted his head at that.
“She came with a trailer. That’s what the $500 was for. I gave the man who had her a twelve-pack to not turn her into glue after she threw his daughter and broke her arm.”
Dean stared.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“She threw somebody?”
“She threw lots of somebodies.” You patted Ricochet’s neck. “She just hadn’t found somebody worth listenin’ to yet.”
Dean looked between you and the mare. Then back again.
“Now…” You held Ricochet’s reins out toward him.
“You’re gonna ride my fast barrel horse and tell me how good she is.”
Dean hesitated.
“Oh! And little Sammy here has volunteered to hold the stopwatch.”
Dean finally noticed Sam leaning against the arena fence, trying very hard to look like he wasn’t hanging on your every word.
“What for?”
“Well…” You smiled sweetly. “I needed somebody who can count.”
“Very funny.”
Dean rolled his eyes as you and Sam laughed at his expense.
Ricochet behaved exactly how you expected. Her ears locked forward and her feet danced beneath her. She champed at the bit, anxious to be turned loose.
Dean gently pulled one rein, trying to redirect her attention before she launched herself out of the alley.
Eventually he gave Sam a silent nod. Sam clicked the stopwatch.
Dean relaxed the reins and Ricochet exploded into the arena.
“Easy…”
Dean sat deep approaching the first barrel.
You couldn’t help smiling. Ricochet tossed her head, clearly frustrated. Silently screaming we’re not moving fast enough.
Dean waited one stride too long before asking for the turn. They rounded the barrel cleanly, but too wide.
Ricochet was already thinking about the second barrel while Dean was still correcting the first.
Out of habit, he nudged her with his boots. She barely acknowledged him. She already knew where she wanted to go.
By the time they reached the second barrel, Dean started adapting.
Instead of fighting her shoulder he let her drop into the turn.
Your mouth twitched as you watched it start to click.
His inside boot scraped the second barrel.
Clang.
Dean’s hand shot down instinctively, catching it before it could roll.
Sam let out a whistle and his eyes darted toward you.
You raised an eyebrow and gave Dean a subtle nod.
She slowed perfectly at the third barrel and Dean grinned.
“Atta girl.”
Your heart fluttered listening to him praising your horse. He wasn’t working her. She wasn’t working him. They were working together.
The electronic timer chirped when he cleared the gates.
Sam looked at the stopwatch and smirked.
“Sixteen point three-zero-five.”
You hissed through your teeth.
“Oof.”
Dean rode over wearing the grin of someone who thought he’d just proven his point.
“Well?”
Sam simply held up the stopwatch.
Dean frowned.
“That can’t be right.”
“Dude,” Sam laughed, “there are five-year-old girls that run barrels better than that.”
Dean’s ears turned pink as his head snapped towards you.
“You think you could do better on Blue? He’s never rounded a barrel in his life.”
You smiled.
“Dean, honey. I know I could.”
You strutted over to Blue, intentionally allowing your hips to sway on each step.
“Uh…what are you doing?”
Dean cocked his head and watching you ease Blue’s bridal off of his head. You slid a neck rope over the gelding’s neck before swinging into the saddle.
“What?” you asked innocently. Batting your eyelashes. “Just evenin’ the playing field.”
Dean glanced toward Sam just in time to catch his little brother watching you climb into the saddle.
He elbowed him hard in the ribs. Sam doubled over.
Dean shot him a look that said I saw that.
“Ready, Sammy?” You called over to him.
Sam swallowed while he recovered from the hit.
Then raised the stopwatch.
Blue was a completely different animal. Ricochet was a live grenade. Blue was a holstered pistol waiting to be drawn. Waiting for your direction to run.
You nodded.
Sam started the clock.
With one soft kiss and a tap of your heel Blue surged toward the first barrel.
You lightly fisted the neck rope, instructing him to slow while you shifted your seat.
He dipped his shoulder beautifully and executed a crisp turn towards the second barrel.
“Good boy.”
Dean would have been bitter if he wasn’t so transfixed. He wasn’t sure what impressed him more. The way his horse ran or the way you rode him.
You were nearly at the second barrel when a voice cut through the arena like a lightning bolt.
“‘The hell’re you doin’?”
Everyone’s head twisted towards the edge of the arena.
Both boys straightened in their boots at the sight of their dad. His eyes were dark. The sheen of sweat and the slight wobble in his step told them through experience that he was drunk. Or close to it.
Blue’s gait faltered and you didn’t have a chance to correct your seat. He reacted to your loss of balance and jerked to the left.
You fell. Hard.
Instead of rolling with it you tried bracing your fall and felt the painful crunch in your wrist.
Before your vision jolted, you saw Dean vault the fence into the arena and run in your direction.
Your breath was knocked out of you but you managed to push yourself on your knees. You clutched your wrist while you tried to focus on drawing a breath.
You could hear Sam talking quietly to John. Clearly trying to calm him down.
Dean kneeled at your side and tried to steady you.
“Hey, hey are you okay? Look at me.”
He tried looking at your wrist and scanned you for other injuries. Blue slowly returned to you while hanging his head lowly. As any good horse does after their rider goes down.
Your vision tunneled on the man responsible, and you pushed yourself upright before you could take a full breath.
“Motherfucker.”
Dean followed your line of sight and felt a mix of dread of rage boiling in his chest.
He recognized that fire and raw focus now that he had ridden your horse.
“See, look at that, boys,” John sneered, “‘Girl can’t even ride a damn horse let alone rodeo.”
Sam was trying and failing to redirect John. You were quickly making your way towards the edge of the arena. He didn’t know if he was protecting you from John or the other way around.
“At least I can still get on a horse, you washed up old asshole!”
Dean tried blocking your view with his broad frame. That only redirected your anger.
“He coulda killed me, Dean!”
“I know, I know, just listen to me—
“Why’re you so scared of him?” You interrupted him.
You could hear him barking orders at Sam and you pushed past Dean. The image of John hitting Dean the previous night flashed in your mind.
“What kind of father treats his sons like fuckin’ cash cows? You’re a bully.”
John turned back towards the arena to see you climbing over the fence with one arm. Or attempting to, anyway.
Dean pulled you back down. Both horrified and amazed at your tenacity. Like an angry coyote waiting to sink your teeth into John.
John lets out an amused laugh.
“That’s right. Get your woman in line, son.” He called over Sam’s shoulder.
You managed to kick a decent amount of red dirt at him before attempting to climb the fence again. Immediately staining his white shirt a dusty copper color.
John’s amused laughter was making your vision redden.
Dean managed to move you back from the fence while quietly wondering what he had gotten himself into.
“I will deal with this, okay? We really need to get your wrist looked at.” His rough hands were gently framing your face to keep your eyes on him.
“Don’t bother.”
You brushed his hands away when you felt tears stinging your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was let any of them see you cry. You quickly grabbed Ricochet‘s lead and guided her back towards your trailer. As soon as they were out of view the first tear crested your eyelid and you quickly wiped it away.
Dean’s jaw clenched tightly as he watched you lead your horse down the row of trailers. He was getting tired of watching you leave and being rooted somewhere he didn’t want to be.
He wiped a hand down his face before turning back towards the arena. He locked eyes with Sam who subtly nodded in your direction. Another silent conversation that spoke volumes.
He found you in the medical tent with Audie. She was chewing her thumb nail while she watched the nurse exam your wrist.
“Think it’s broken?” Audie asked nervously.
“No. Looks like it’s sprained pretty good though. I’d give it a few weeks to heal. Plenty of ice and rest.”
You groaned and let your head flop back against the exam bed. You finally noticed Dean standing outside the tent, hat in hand.
“But what about Fort Worth?” Audie’s voice was tight. She knew how important that competition was. Five grand was a big deal and you had a real shot at winning it.
“There’s no way in hell I’m missing it.” You said as you pushed yourself off of the cot awkwardly. “C’mon, Audie. Thank you ma’am.” You nodded politely towards the nurse.
Audie paused and gave you a look when she noticed the green-eyed cowboy waiting for you outside the tent.
“Go get Ric loaded up for me?”
She nodded and gave Dean a stern once-over before heading towards the trailer.
“I am so sorry. About everything.”
“Why do you put up with that? The way he treats you and Sam…it’s just wrong.”
Dean shrugged. He didn’t have a good answer. He thought he had done a good job at keeping his brother safe. But after one weekend, Sam was already bruised, dirty, and tired.
“Come with me, Dean.”
He blinked at you as he let the words wash over him.
“Get your brother. Get your horse. Don’t think about it.”
He opened his mouth to protest the idea but he couldn’t. Not If it meant getting Sam back where he belonged. Away from John.
The sun was set and the moon was rising as Dean situated Blue alongside Ricochet in the back of the old, dusty trailer. He gazed back over the parking lot with a twinge of guilt in his heart.
“Dude, let’s go,” Sam called over the bed of the truck. “I’d like to clean the horseshit off of everything before my roommate gets back.”
Four doors shut almost in unison and you threw your pickup in drive. All of you ready to put the fairgrounds in your rearview mirror after a long weekend.
Dean smiled when the chill of your truck’s AC hit his face.
He glanced over at you when he felt your soft hand brush his knuckles. You gave his hand a squeeze before returning it to the steering wheel. Just that simple gesture was enough for him to rethink a future following in his father’s footsteps.
a/n: I haven’t been on a horse in years but I’ve been thrown/fallen twice and -10000/10 do not recommend. Anyway, howdy y’all, hope you enjoyed. More romance smuttiness coming soon xoxo
Dean Winchester taglist:
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❈ join my taglist ❈
Title: Unexpected Complications Pairing: Sam Winchester/John Winchester Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 825
Summary: Sam was left alone while John and Dean were out on a hunt. His heat hits unexpectedly hard. When John and Dean return, the truth of the matter is revealed.
Fic on AO3
Title: 'Til Death Pairing: John Winchester/Dean Winchester Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 4,937
Summary: John goes on a hunt. Shit goes sideways. He comes back to his Omega a changed and slightly undead Alpha. That's when it gets really crazy...
Fic on AO3
Not In The Script Chapter 7 - Can We Just Pretend It Didn’t Happen?
Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88578816/chapters/239002806
Not In The Script Chapter Master List: https://www.tumblr.com/iamgwinchester/822446704695590912/not-in-the-script-master-list
READ THE 1st IN THE SERIES: Chapter 1 - Arrival
Chapter 6 - Absolutely Nothing Happened on the Trip
Chapter 7 - Can We Just Pretend It Didn’t Happen?
She sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on the wall without really seeing it. The bunker air felt too clean down here, like it scrubbed the world off you and left you raw.
She tried not to cry. The tears came anyway. They were quiet, stubborn things that slipped free when she finally stopped fighting them. Her breath caught in soft, stuttering sobs she tried to muffle in her sleeve. The sound escaped regardless.
The knock startled her so hard her pulse jumped into her throat.
"Just a sec." Her voice came out rougher than she intended, scraped raw.
She swiped at her cheeks, dragged her palms across her eyes, and pulled in breath after breath until her chest stopped shuddering. She smoothed her shirt like that fixed anything, then stood and opened the door.
"Hi," she said.
Dean stood there, swaying just a hair. Not falling-down drunk. Just loose. The good scotch someone had given him after the last hunt still clung to his breath, warm and smoky and dangerous. His hair stuck up in the back like he'd run a hand through it too many times.
She was buzzed too. Not quite drunk, but enough that everything felt too close to the surface.
"Hey," he said, and his voice came out gentler than usual. "Are you okay? I heard…" He trailed off, uncertain, like he hated the part where he admitted he cared. "And Cas usually…" He cut himself off, like saying it made it real. "He got yanked away. Hasn't been around."
Her gaze dropped. Heat crawled up the back of her neck. "Yeah. I just… got a little sad. Probably the alcohol."
His brow furrowed. "Alcohol? You didn't have any scotch."
"I'm a lightweight," she said. "You know that."
"Oh, right." He nodded. "You had the sweet stuff." His frown deepened. "Still. Booze doesn't do that by itself. Something had to… uh…" He gestured vaguely with two fingers, like he was trying to pinch the word out of thin air.
"Trigger it?" she offered.
"Yeah. That." He pointed at her like she'd done him a favor. "Trigger."
She sighed, and once the first word came the rest followed like water through a broken dam.
"It's just… Cas hasn't been here to keep me company at night. And I don't remember anything. I have no past. No anchor. I don't even know what I'm homesick for." Her voice thinned on that, like it hurt to say. "I just feel wrong. Like I don't fit. I'm not a hunter. I'm not a witch. I can't even cast a spell or be touched by an angel."
A bitter laugh slipped out. "Roma Downey couldn't even save me."
Despite himself, Dean snorted. It was quick, but it was real.
"Hey. You're good for us. This place needed a… fem-in-in…" He grimaced, wrestling the word like it was a live snake. "The lady touch."
She almost smiled, but it didn't stick.
"I just feel lost," she said quietly. "And without Cas, nights feel empty and a little scary. I don't belong here. I'm just… a burden."
His expression changed. He looked at her like she wasn't a problem to solve. Just a person.
"No." The word landed firm. "No. We like having you here." He hesitated like the next part cost him. "We like… you."
He cleared his throat and gestured at nothing, trying to hide the softness with motion. "And you help with the…" He waved vaguely. "The thing."
He stepped forward. "Come here."
His arms folded around her, loose, careful, solid, an embrace that said I've got you without needing to put it into words. His flannel rubbed against her cheek. His hand brushed once between her shoulder blades like he was anchoring her to the planet.
"It doesn't matter who you were," he murmured near her ear. "You're one of us now."
The words settled somewhere deep in her chest, warm and heavy in the best way.
She pulled back slightly to catch her breath and stopped.
Their faces hovered inches apart. His eyes were warm, searching, closer than they should have been. She could feel his breath against her lips.
"Thanks," she whispered.
God. He was unfairly good-looking.
His hands came up to frame her face, rough palms careful against her skin. He tilted her head down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was soft, protective, achingly tender.
When he started to pull away, something in her panicked at the space opening up.
She tipped her chin up and kissed him.
It took a second for him to process what was happening.
Then it clicked.
He kissed her back.
Breaths caught. Hearts hammered. His hands moved fast and sure and seeking like instinct then slowed for half a beat, checking her face for a stop sign.
She gave him none.
Clothes became obstacles. The room shrank down to warmth and mouths and the desperate relief of being held by someone real. They ended up tangled together on the bed, giving in to everything they shouldn't.
Sleep, or unconsciousness, or some hazy blend of both, claimed her fast.
Hours later, Dean jerked awake.
He sat up too fast, like his body remembered rules his brain had forgotten. The bunker was silent around them. His regret felt loud in it.
She stirred beside him, still half-buried in sleep.
He was already reaching for his clothes, pulling them on with fumbling urgency. "Uh. I should go."
She managed a mumbled, "Mmmm."
And dropped immediately back into darkness.
Morning arrived with a soft knock.
She threw on yesterday's clothes and pulled the door open.
Dean winced at the swing of it. It didn't even creak, but he was clearly hungover, miserable, regretting every choice that had led him here. His eyes looked too bright in his too-pale face.
"Hey," he said carefully, like he was testing the temperature of the water.
She took in his bloodshot eyes. "You look… not great."
"I'm not." He swallowed hard. "I wanted to talk. About last night."
She stepped aside to let him in. They both settled on the edge of the bed with a cautious inch of space between them.
"Do you even remember last night?" she asked, trying for teasing.
"Some of it." His gaze held hers, steady and serious.
Her smile faded. "Oh. Right."
"I didn't mean to…"
"It's okay," she cut in, quick, because she could feel him gearing up to bolt. "You don't have to."
He exhaled slowly, gathering himself. "I like you. But… I do casual. I don't do relationships."
"I know."
"And I usually don't see women again after."
"Yeah. I know." She covered his hand with hers. "I don't want to wreck a good…" She searched for the word and came up short, so she grabbed the closest one. "…friendship."
She paused. "Can we just pretend it didn't happen?"
Relief washed over him like dawn breaking. He grinned. Dean Winchester's escape-hatch smile. "Lady, I have no idea what you're talking about."
She smiled back. "Me neither."
"I don't remember anything," she said, and then realized what that sounded like and added quickly, "Huh …at all." The words came out sad anyway, carrying more weight than she'd meant them to.
He stood, headed for the door, then turned back. "Hey." A hesitation. A rare crack in his armor. "We're… good. Okay? Friends."
"Yeah," she said. "We are."
"Besides," he said, grabbing for humor like it was a railing, "you need a relationship kind of guy."
She nodded, because that was true and safe and easy to agree with.
He pointed down the hall. "A guy like Sam."
She let the idea land, then laughed, genuinely, the surprise of it loosening something in her chest. "Yeah, I'm not his type. Plus, he's way out of my league."
"And I'm…?"
"Also out of my league," she shot back, "but you're not very… selective."
Dean scoffed like he was offended and proud at the same time. "Oh, I am. I just happen to run across a lot of really hot women."
She chuckled and shook her head.
He opened the door, then paused. The humor dropped off his face, just for a second, like he was deciding whether to say something true.
"Look, the truth is…" He stopped. Reconsidered. Settled on a version that was easier to walk away from. "You're out of his league. And he knows it. That's why he…"
He stopped again. Shook his head once.
Dean knew exactly what he'd almost said. He knew what he'd seen in his brother's face over the past weeks. The way Sam's attention caught on her without quite meaning to, the way he talked himself back from things before they started, the way he looked at her when she wasn't looking back. He knew what that was. He'd watched Sam do it his whole life.
He also knew it wasn't his to say.
"Never mind." He reached for the door handle. "I'm going to go get some coffee. Maybe some hair of the dog."
He left.
She sat in the quiet he'd left behind.
A little sad from the rejection, yes, but it was simple, uncomplicated. The kind that didn't have claws. She hadn't wanted more from Dean, not really. She'd wanted to not be alone in the dark, and he'd been there, and it had happened, and now it was over and they were fine. That was the whole of it.
The relief was real, and she was grateful for it. No drama. No wreckage. Just two people who'd made a mistake in the moment and both quietly agreed to forget.
As for Sam, she let the thought finish crossing her mind and then let it go. He was kind, and smart, and she wasn't going to pretend she didn't notice him. But noticing someone and believing something was possible were two entirely different things. He was Sam Winchester. She was a woman from another universe and didn't even remember her last name.
She knew which direction that math went.
She got up, caught her reflection in the mirror long enough to smooth her hair down, and went to find coffee
Chapter 8 - What do You Do? (COMING SOON ETA 8/10/26)
Not In The Script Chapter Master List : https://www.tumblr.com/iamgwinchester/822446704695590912/not-in-the-script-master-list
Master List of Fan Fiction: https://www.tumblr.com/iamgwinchester/812636749500137472/master-list
List of Sam x Reader Cute Little Fluffs https://www.tumblr.com/iamgwinchester/819080920363565056/sam-x-reader-cute-little-fluffs-list
(if you ❤️ SAM):
SAM x Reader Insert Series (No use of "Y/N") Accidentally a Winchester: A Supernatural Reader Series Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/series/5664826
Title: Point Of Inception Pairing: Older Dean Winchester/Younger John Winchester Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 3,572
Summary: At first Dean thought the witch's curse was going to be a bad thing, but as it turns out he's having the night of his life. After he ran into a 22-year-old John and discovered that his tough as nails ex-marine father has a daddy kink a mile wide. And who is Dean to let such an incredible opportunity pass him by?
Fic on AO3
New in the Series: Answer to Your Own Code
Part 36 in Accidentally a Winchester: A Supernatural Reader Series READ THE 1st IN THE SERIES: Chapter 1 - Arrival
Summary: S12 E17 The British Invasion rewrite One shot. One second too slow. A British Man of Letters is dead, and it should have been someone else's hands that did it. You feel guilty you accidently killed a human. Sam helps you feel better.
Eileen had tracked Kelly to Iowa the old-fashioned way. After tracing a car connected to the burned warehouse in Idaho, she'd followed the trail to one of Dagon's demons. Before killing him, she had gotten Kelly's phone number.
Now the three of you stood in the middle of a junkyard while Sam made the call pretending to be from her doctor's office, convincing Kelly to go to the office at 5:00. She agrees and when she shows up, Dean comes up alongside her, grabs her arm, and tells her to stay cool and walk with him. They get into the Impala and drive to the junkyard.
