#Garth would wait for you to leave before he has his mental breakdown. he knows it's not your problem. also it's hotter if Garth accidentally

[kiseiakhun]

You literally already know who I'm gonna ask: GARTH

I have already answered this but I will answer again. I would smash Garth. I would ride his fish dick. I would put on a strap and fuck his fussy (fish pussy). I would fertilize his eggs after he lays them in the communal titans pool. I would take his side in every argument with Arthur, which I would do even if I didn't want to fuck him because Arthur is usually wrong. All it takes is one look from his magical anime eyes and my legs will open by themselves. You KNOW Garth would treat you right.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part seventeen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±4700 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part seventeen: Unable to sleep, Y/N goes over last night’s events, until she gets an unexpected visitor. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘After My Heart + Can’t Help Falling In Love’ - John Michael Howell. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Please listen to this song during the scene, it’s so worth it! Author’s note: I’m excited for this one, y’all! Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @winchest09 for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     The bunkhouse is silent after a festive night. All the lights out, except for the one on Y/N’s bedside table. Sleep might have come limited the past week, but she isn’t ready to close her eyes just yet. The adventurous trail, combined with the unexpected news about her qualification has her riled up with excitement. 

     Not sure what to do with this new found energy, she has taken out one of her notebooks, which is filled with scrabbles. She won State Championships with a relatively simple floorplan, not wanting to overshoot, but if she wants to leave an impression with the judges at Congress, she needs to step up her game. Combinations between exercises will push up her degree of difficulty, so she decided to change a few lines. Working on her freestyle tonight wasn’t entirely according to plan, but who knows, maybe the tequila and beer will add some creativity.

     She has changed into a comfortable tank top and a pair of shorts, the soft fabric a contrast to the sandy denim she’s been clad in the past days. The temperature is comfortably warm, early October in Arizona much more like summer compared to the autumn days she’s used to in Maine.

     Strangely, she hasn’t been homesick for Freeport at all. She misses her mom and dad, her brothers, but after her time living on campus, she’s used to being away from family. Her father travels a lot for work, and Jaime, her older brother by three years, moved to the other side of the country straight out of the Police Academy, fighting crime in Los Angeles these days. Middle kid Jackson bought a house in Boston and is busy with his real estate firm, while her oldest brother, Jeff and his wife are expecting their first child. Y/N wouldn’t say they have grown apart, but now that she and her siblings don’t share a house anymore, things have changed. They’ve spread their wings, built a life for themselves.

     She checks her phone when a message from Jaime pops up, sending her a selfie in which he shows off his muscles, holding up a fist. ‘Show them what you’re made of! You’re gonna ace that ride!’ he added in the caption. She closes the text, scrolling down the list of messages from family and friends, until she finds one from Jeffrey, which is a little more lengthy. ‘Mom said I had to wait until Dad reached you, so I hope you got the news by now, otherwise I’m in trouble. Congratulations, Sis. You worked so hard for this. I’m really proud of you, and I know Grandpa will be cheering you on from above. You’re already a champion.’ She smiles at the sweet words; she should really give him a call next week.

     Redirecting her attention to the notebook in her lap, she picks up her pen, sketches a new line, crosses it and bites on the pen cap, pondering. Marcel, her trainer at the Freeport Equestrian Center, helped her with the first version. She could get in touch with him tomorrow, she’s sure he will be willing to shed a light on what she has so far. Distance will be an issue, though, and with time being of the essence since it’s only fifteen days before they head towards Columbus, Ohio, where Congress is held, she has to take a different approach.

     What if she asks Dean to help her with the freestyle, or even to come with her to the show? He has helped her a couple of times during training and she appreciates his approach. His suggestions and tips paid off; his methods really seemed to work for both her and Meadow. The head wrangler knows Y/N and her horse well enough to offer advice in bringing out their best qualities, she just hopes he’s up for it. After some drinks, Dean didn’t stick around long. When she asked Jo where he went, she said Dean offered to do the final feeding round. Y/N thought about following him, but didn’t want to draw attention from the rest of the crew; them both gone would’ve raised suspicion and she doesn’t want to put him in the spot of having to explain himself.

     When Y/N noticed his absence, her stomach made an unpleasant flip. The uneasy sensation remained the rest of the evening, not evident, but brewing nonetheless, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. She wonders if something has changed, maybe. That coming home to the ranch caused Dean to reconsider. Why else would he distance himself?

     Doubtful, she takes a breath, her mind going places she’d rather not be. Still missing a steady foundation for them to start building a relationship on, doubt surfaces again. Deep down she’s scared that the cowboy might back out, which would cause heartbreak she’s not sure she can handle. She cares too much already, she’s too far gone. Y/N is passing the station of just being in love with Dean; it’s growing into something even more.

     Before her thoughts can spiral further, there’s a soft knock on the door. The kind that is soft enough to not wake her had she been sleeping, but loud enough for her to hear if she wasn’t. She slides out of bed, rises to her bare feet, careful not to bump her head against the top bunk like she has so many times already, and crosses her room. When she opens the door, she finds the man who has been on her mind on the other side, locking his green eyes on her. She’s pleasantly surprised to see him with it being past 11 PM already; she expected him to be in bed long ago after the exhausting past few days.      “Hey, what are you doing u--”

     He doesn’t let her finish and bridges the few feet between them, cupping her face with both hands and pulling her into a kiss. After the initial shock, which only lasts a fraction of a second, he can feel her lashes brush against his skin as she closes her eyes and melts into him, allowing him to deepen the connection. Her response takes away the restlessness that weighed on his chest like a chunk of concrete, ever since the thought of her leaving arose.

     They step into her room far enough for Dean to kick the door shut, preventing possible eavesdroppers from tuning in, his mouth never leaving hers. Instinctively, her arms snake around his torso, tracing the lines of his strong back through the fabric of his shirt. There’s a desperation in his touch that’s new to her, the way he longs for this connection is different. Eventually, he breaks the kiss and she studies him when he rests his forehead against hers. His eyes stay closed for a little longer, holding on to the moment while his hands slip from her face. 

     He didn’t want to steal a few seconds while surrounded by the crew, he didn’t want to get in line to give her a quick hug or a peck on the cheek. No, he needed to be with her, just the two of them without restrictions.

     “What was that for?” she wonders.      “Just wanted to congratulate you.” He smiles, trying to mask his concern, and sweetly presses his lips on hers again. “Personally.” And again. “Privately.” And again.      She giggles, triggering him to chuckle as well. He moves his head back to take her in.      “Congratulations, Yankee,” he says, genuine. “You earned it.”      “Thank you,” she smiles, still slightly confused. “Where’d you go earlier?”      “Someone had to feed those poor starving animals,” he jokes. “And since Bobby already had a few whiskies, and Garth is an absolute light weight, I took one for the team.”

     He was quick to take the final feeding round, not just because he was the last man standing. Doing one last check, giving the horses their hay for the night, making sure the stables are shut properly, locking up the tackroom and the cafeteria and eventually the large barn doors after switching off the lights; it offers him peace of mind. It’s a daily routine, a recurring series of actions, done so 365 days a year. Ensuring everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be in the place where he lives and works, grounds him when he’s feeling restless. It gives him a moment alone, the horses his only company, allowing him to think things over and collect himself again. Tonight was no different, because even though he was relieved Y/N’s father wasn’t the bearer of bad news, Dean felt disturbed with his initial response. For a good few minutes, he thought he was going to lose her, and the anxiety it surfaced was much more intense than he anticipated.

     Y/N keeps watching him as the cowboy is lost in thought. He’s trying to be funny and cute, but that’s not all there is to it; his eyes tell a different story. He kissed her a little too fierce, pulled her in a little too tight. Something is bothering him, and although she doesn’t want to force him to talk, she needs to know what it is before she loses her mind herself.      “What’s wrong, Dean?” she asks, softly, moving her hands up his chest.      “It’s nothin’,” he assures, shaking his head.

     But when the concern remains evident in her expression, he sighs. He doesn’t want her to worry, or think it’s something she’s done. If anything, she’s been absolutely perfect. God, she’s so patient. Even though she needs him, she offers him space. Expressing how he feels might be terrifying, it’s about time he’s fair with the woman who’s willing to wait.      “It’s just that, uh - when your dad called, he… he sounded pretty serious,” Dean admits, looking down. “I thought something might have happened with your folks or somethin’, and that you...”      He pauses, struggling, but Y/N knows enough.      “You thought Dad was going to tell me to come back,” she realizes.

     Suddenly his behavior makes so much more sense. His complete change of demeanor when he approached her table in the saloon after receiving the call, him seeming as nervous as she was when she picked up the phone. The sigh of relief when she told him and Jo the great news, his disappearance from the celebration at the saloon. Dean thought he was going to lose her, and apparently it scared him. Y/N is as stunned by the realization, as she is by the confirming nod he gives her.

     “Well - I mean - it could’ve been, right?” he says, shrugging his shoulders almost apologetically, like he’s not allowed to be worried about a presumption as such.      “I’m twenty-four, Dean. I’m not going anywhere unless I want to,” she reminds him, hoping to offer him some consolation.      “Glad to hear it,” he responds, his hands moving to her waist as he restores eye contact. “‘cause I’d hate to see you go.”

     Heartfelt, the beautiful girl in his arms smiles. She seems to understand the weight of his words, because she crosses her wrists behind his head and urges him to come closer. Dean’s heart swells in his chest when she brushes her lips against his, tentatively at first. His mind calms, the nerves subsiding. Not only is she staying, she also understands what’s going on in his head, and in a strange and unexpected way, it’s kind of liberating. Not having to pretend and put on a mask, not having to convince anyone that everything is fine. He’s gotten so used to telling people he’s okay, the words to express himself prove to be hard to grasp. Who knows, maybe one day he’ll get the hang of it.

     Dean’s mind goes blank when she deepens the kiss, swiping her tongue against his bottom lip. Her arms close around his neck a little tighter, holding him so close he can feel the warmth coming from her skin. She smells amazing, the scent of her shampoo still lingering in her hair, a sweet smell of a flower he can’t name. He presses his fingertips into her flesh, carefully shifting them under the hem of her tank top, even though he knows very well that he shouldn’t. It isn’t going to take long before he will not be able to stop himself.

     She feels him trace her sides, rolling up the fabric of her top as he does so. Normally she would be self-conscious about it, but when she parts from him when running out of air, all she sees in his eyes is adoration and want. Both seem to be waiting for each other, unsure if they should take this further. Afterall, considering what they agreed on, this would be a poor execution of taking things slow.

     Without breaking away from her gaze, his left hand travels down, following the curves of her hips. He adds pressure, gently pulling her against him. What she feels through the denim of his jeans has her eyes grow wide. A delightful tension starts to tangle up in her stomach, sinking deeper. Somewhat surprised that she apparently has this effect on him, she takes in a shuddering breath, gazing deep into his eyes. God, she wants to go there, but is he willing to as well?      “Are you sure?” she checks with him.      Dean doesn’t have to think twice and nods. To hell with it, he’s not going to waste another second.      “I want you,” he breathes, his voice husky.

     It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear him say. It might not be the confirmation of their relationship she’s been hoping to get eventually; it’s better. He wants her. He wants her.

     Free from restraints, she crashes her lips to his and Dean doesn’t hesitate to return the kiss with the same need. All the question marks, the doubt, the thoughts along the line of ‘what if it goes wrong?’ and ‘maybe we shouldn’t do this’ go right out the window.      It wouldn’t matter if they waited longer, because if that wake up call taught the cowboy anything, it’s that together or not, it would tear him to pieces if she were ever to leave the ranch. If he’s going to spend this time with her, he better make it worth her while, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll stay with him in the end.

     Eventually, his mouth leaves hers and begins to descend, his breath tickling her skin as he ghosts down her neck. Willingly, she rolls her head to her shoulder, offering him space to leave marks on her pulse point, then down her collarbone. The hint of delicious pain has her fighting back a moan, which proves to be challenging, especially when his hands roam down to cover her peach-shaped behind. Trying to distract herself and be useful at the same time, she begins to unbutton his plaid shirt, his touch momentarily interrupted until the piece of clothing falls to the floor in a puddle of blue, soon followed by his white undershirt.

     Before Dean urges her closer again, he drags the only chair in the room away from the small table by the window, sitting down and pulling her with him. The wood underneath them creaks when she settles in his lap, her bare knees on either side of the cowboy, holding herself up and leaning into his bare chest. The denim of his jeans stretches over his erection, rubbing against her core. The sheer thought of a few layers of fabric being the only barrier between him and her, sends a surge of heat to dampen her panties. Thank God she chose the lace ones earlier after her shower, the ones she can only wear whenever she’s not spending her day in the saddle. She wonders if he can tell how aroused she is already.

     Dean can. He can feel the warmth radiating towards him and he can feel himself growing even harder, too. His breath hitches and he stifles a groan when she rolls her hips, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Ho-ly shit. This might not be how he originally imagined their first time, in this tiny room with thin walls, this one chair and a bunk bed, but it feels so good. He has enveloped her in his arms, his hands roam her body, not leaving a square inch unattended. Without tearing the seams, he pulls the strap of her loosely fitted tank top over one shoulder, the material shifting down. His fingers then reposition to cup her breast, all while he presses kisses on top. When he moves his thumb over her stiff nipple, she pulls in an audible gasp.      “Sssh…” he hushes. “Wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors.”

     Y/N can’t help it, though. The friction she feels beneath her, combined with the touch of his mouth and his fingertips, is already beginning to build her up. She begins to pant, her lungs pushing out air in quivers. Dean doesn’t stop, however, and continues to knead her breast without hurting her, smothering the sounds she makes with another breathtaking kiss. His other hand has snaked around her waist again, splayed on the small of her back now, spurring her on to move against him. Good God, if he keeps this up, she might come undone without him even actually touching her down there.

     The chair creaks louder when she moves against him, triggering Dean to cringe. The old furniture is either going to break or wake everyone in the bunkhouse, and so he pulls Y/N flush against him and stands up. Without missing a beat or breaking the kiss, she folds her legs around his waist as he walks her to the bed. Laying her down and fitting himself on top turns out to be a little more difficult than he thought it would be, the bunk bed limiting his space, but after some shimmying, he manages.

      He hovers over the woman he’s about to be intimate with, mesmerized by the sight of her laying underneath him, her chest heaving, her eyes lustful. She’s the definition of gorgeous without even trying. Dude, how the hell did you manage to hold back this long?

     The trail of kisses he presses on her stomach has Y/N arching her back, her eyes closed in delight as he travels down. Gently, he opens her legs a little wider, feather light touches electrifying her skin, sending currents towards her center. His hands leave her then, teasingly letting her wait in suspense. She listens, trying to pick up on any sound of him breathing or moving, her senses operating on full capacity. He’s testing her patience like he has done for the past few days. A chill runs down her spine as seconds tick by, but then Dean palms her heat through the fabric of her shorts. She bites her bottom lip at the unexpected connection, her fists clenching the comforter and a moan escaping her throat. This is happening. This is really happening.

     Y/N feels him tracing the waistband of her shorts, before hooking his thumbs underneath the hem. He’s about to drag them down and move in, when they hear a door handle being pushed down. Her eyes shoot open in time to see Dean jerk back and sit up startled, hitting his head hard against the top bunk. The collision of his skull with the solid wood creates a loud bang, followed by a strangled groan. He curses through gritted teeth, trying to make as little noise as possible, while outside the room a door shuts. Horrified, they both stare at the other end of the room, not moving a muscle as shuffling footsteps cross the hall, opening another door and closing it again. A toilet seat is lifted up, the person whistling to himself softly. There can be only one person who needs encouragement to relieve himself: Garth.

     “For fuck’s sake,” Dean hisses.      Y/N is unable to stop a snort, sniggering silently, even though she tries not to.      “You okay?” she checks, trying to sound concerned. Not very convincing, apparently, because Dean shoots her a glare, while rubbing the sore spot on his head.      The toilet flushes loudly and obscenely, triggering the woman underneath him to giggle unstoppably. When he shushes her, frantically holding his finger to his lips, it achieves the opposite, causing him to break character as well. Doing their best to keep it down, she clasps her hand over her mouth while Dean presses his lips together, trying to compose himself.      “You need to be quiet,” he whispers.      “I c-can’t”, she hiccups, tears streaming down her cheeks.

     Garth heads back to his room, either sleep walking or he’s deaf, because he doesn’t pick up on any of the action happening on the other side of the hall. His door closes, the springs of his bed creak as he gets back in, and silence returns.      “Would you stop?” Dean chuckles, poking Y/N’s side when she fails to control her laughing fit.       “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” she returns, struggling to keep it down. “How’s your head?”      “It’s alright,” he claims, ignoring the slight bump when he runs his hand through his hair. “Moment’s gone, ain’t it?”

      She wipes the tears from her face, breathing in now that she’s capable again. Comforting, she reaches for his hand. As much as she would like to continue, the circumstances aren’t exactly ideal. Their first time together shouldn’t have to be clumsy and uncomfortable, in a bed that’s too small in a room with paper thin walls.       “Rain check?” she proposes.      Dean leans in to leave a kiss on her lips. “Rain check. ‘Sides, wouldn’t wanna have to hold back because you can’t keep it down.”      She pokes him in his stomach now. “Don’t get cocky.”

     Dean scoffs, sliding from the bed without hitting his head this time. Grinning mischievously, he turns around, pulling her to her feet as well. The cowboy takes a second to really look at her again, glad to notice the lack of insecurity in her composure. Her hair is messy, strands escaping the loose bun at the base of her neck, ready for bed in her pajama shorts and a comfortable top. She could have felt self-conscious in this situation, especially since their moment together came to an abrupt and slightly awkward end. But she isn’t, she feels at ease when she’s with him. A small smile forms on the cowboy’s lips.

     “You should get some sleep. We’ll skip the afternoon siestas, now that the temperatures are droppin’, so we’ll start an hour and a half later tomorrow. I figured you might wanna train Meadow first thing in the morning?” he suggests, picking up his shirts from the floor.      Y/N agrees, glad that she’s being given the space to focus on Congress. “Dean, about that…”      He glances back, patiently waiting for the follow up.      “I was wondering if you could maybe help me out with my freestyle?” she asks, a little shy.      “Yeah, of course,” the head wrangler responds without hesitation.       “Great,” she breathes, relieved. “And there’s this other thing.”      Dean steps closer, laying his shirt and flannel over his shoulder so that he has his hands free and can lace his fingers with hers. “What is it?”      “I was hoping you could coach me,” she says, looking up at him. “Not just at home, but when I have to compete in Columbus, too.”

     Humbled, he gazes back, the corners of his mouth curving up. Coaching such a skilled rider as Y/N would be an absolute privilege, and with the trainers he knows she’s had, he’s surprised she’s asking him. Sure, the connection they have personally is there on a much more professional level as well, but they are talking Congress here, the biggest show of the year, and possibly the most important one of her career. Apparently, she has as much faith in his abilities to guide her as he has faith in her talent.        “It’ll be my pleasure,” he states.      “Really?” Y/N responds, thrilled.       “Hell, yeah,” Dean says, excited. “I’ll have to check with management if I can get time off for Congress, but I have plenty of days left. Plus, I think Ellen is kinda rooting for us.”      She chuckles, but then does a double take. “Wait, what? Ellen knows we’re together? I - I mean, not together together, I get that we’re not an item--”      “-Ellen knows,” he grins, squeezing her hand when he interrupts her nervous train of words. “I think basically everyone knows by now, except Garth and Bobby.”

     A little uneasy Y/N glances from their hands up into his eyes. Wait… Is she reading too much into his words? He didn’t correct her when she used the term ‘together’. Why didn’t he? Is he worried he might upset her again? If anything, she doesn’t want to push him to oblige to something he’s not ready for.      “Dean, I know we just… I didn’t mean--” She pauzes, collects herself and starts over. “I know you’re not ready for a relationship and that’s fine, we had that conversation already. I’m not trying to rush you.”      “You’re not rushin’ me,” he assures, calmly. “I just needed a wake up call in order to pull my head out of my ass.”      The woman before him hesitates, “W-what do you mean?”

     The wrangler wets his lips, taking a second to choose his words carefully.       “When your old man called, for a minute I thought you were about to hop on a plane and that I was never gonna see you again,” he admits. “And - uh, it kinda freaked me out, to be honest.”      He huffs, barely able to believe what he’s about to say.      “I’m not gonna keep you waitin’ any longer, Yankee. I know I said I want you, earlier, but truth is…” 

     Y/N watches him glance down at their hands again, running his thumb over her knuckles. Nerves close off her throat, because she has a hunch that he’s about to break it to her; he doesn’t want the commitment. 

Tears begin to prick in her eyes, but not from laughter this time. She knew it was going to be difficult to get close to him. Dean keeps to himself, probably because he cared too much in the past and learned his lesson the hard way. The possibility of her leaving spooked him today, and now he’s done. He doesn’t want to risk that kind of heartbreak, he doesn’t want to rely on anyone. Dean Winchester would rather fill his world with a hundred shallow and meaningless flings than with one solid partner, and this is him setting her free, before things get out of --      “I wanna be with you.”

     Her racing mind, which was breaking the speed limit, hits a brick wall. Shocked, she pulls her eyes away from their entwined fingers, gazing at him almost dumbfoundedly. Did he just say he wants to be with me?      “W-what?” she stammers.      “I mean, if you’ll still have me,” Dean adds, a little unsettled by her response. “Look, I know I’m not exactly an open book and that I behave like a dick sometimes when you try to get through to me. I’m stubborn as hell and my communication skills need some work—”

     Now it’s Y/N who cuts him off for a change, closing the gap and kissing him passionately. He eases into her, smiling against her lips and leaves a peck on her hair when she embraces him and buries her face under his chin. Relieved, he allows the breath he was holding to leave his lungs.      “So, what do you say?” he asks, cocking his head back slightly to be able to look her in the eye again. “Up for a challenge?”      “Are we talking about us training together for Congress, or us as a couple?” she checks, regaining her footing again.      Dean frowns and chuckles at that. “Both.”      She doesn’t need time to think. She knew the answer to this question long before Dean was ready to ask.      “Yes,” she beams. “Hell, yes.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eighteen here

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part thirteen) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Ash Miller, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±6350 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part thirteen: The six mile ride to find water is a long one, exhausting the wranglers. When they finally reach the river, Dean and Y/N find a lot more than just that. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘I Will Carry You’ - Carter Burwell (opening scene), ‘All The Wild Horses’ - Ray LaMontagne (Dean & Y/N final scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience! 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “Here.”      A water flask moves into her peripheral vision, pulling Y/N back from a hazy daydream. It’s past five PM, but it’s at least 90 degrees, the high temperatures lingering. The heat is dry, not the kind that is oppressive and makes it hard to breathe, but more torrid. Crippling nonetheless, especially for someone who is used to chilly autumns and cold winters. Her fatigued body was aching when they were standing at the junction hours ago, but Y/N didn’t want to be the one to call it quits. She still feels the pressure to prove herself, to her dad, to Dean and Bobby, to herself. So she kept her mouth shut. Now it seems stupid, because she isn’t feeling well. 

     Heavy eyes glide up the arm extended to her, meeting Dean’s handsome face, shaded by his Western hat. It’s clear that he’s concerned for her.      “That’s yours,” she objects. “I’ve got some left.”      “No, you don’t. You emptied it over an hour ago,” he knows, motioning her to take the bottle.      Y/N huffs; looks like someone has been keeping an eye on her. Dean isn’t going to take no for an answer.      “You gotta to stay hydrated, or this heat will take you down,” the wrangler pressures. “You’re not used to these circumstances.”      “I’ve been here for over a month, Dean. I think I’m used to the climate by now,” she counters stubborn, even though she knows better.      The cowboy eyes her sternly, but can’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching in a smile. Hardheaded? Y/N? Where did he ever get that idea?      “Are you gonna drink it, or what?” he half asks, half tells her.      Reluctant the cowgirl takes the water, but hesitates before she lifts it to her mouth.      “What about you?”      “I’m alright,” he assures.      Before she has a sip, Y/N takes in the cowboy. Dust has covered his arms and his neck with a thin layer, the tiny particles sticking to his sweaty skin. His bandaged hand rests on the horn of the saddle, but other than the minor injury, nothing indicates that the long journey in extreme conditions is getting to him. He must be thirsty too, but he looks alert and healthy, which she surely does not.

     Y/N quickly counts the number of hours she has been in the saddle; close to eleven. The long trail under the merciless sun is taking its toll. Dean knows it, even Joplin does, because the mare has reduced her pace significantly, getting her cargo safely across the land, while before she was hard to keep up with. Her rider is glad she slowed down and took the wheel, because she is not in the mood to repeatedly ask the dark little horse to ease. Every now and then, Y/N feels like she could faint, a wave of dizziness almost washing the female wrangler off her horse. Gosh, she wishes it was actual waves. She would do anything for a drop of rain right now. For a second she fantasizes about a nice bubble bath, or a shower even. She would do anything for a cool shower.

     She swallows down the water, leaving some for the wrangler next to her. With worry puckered on his forehead, he observes her intently. It doesn’t go unnoticed, because a scoff erupts from her sore throat.      “I’m fine,” she assures him. “I’m just tired and a little sore, that’s all.”      But Dean isn’t convinced. Pondering he glances ahead, watching Benny and the other three riders. His Southern friend is making easy conversation and it seems like Macy and Brad are handling themselves, but Jon looks like he’s going on fumes.       “We should’ve gone back,” he mumbles, second guessing his decision.      “What? And return to the ranch without the horses?” she queries, resting her free hand on her thigh. “We had to make the jump, Dean. Rather on the second day than later. Plus, you said it yourself: find the water, find the herd.”      Ted’s rider looks aside, the muscles of his jaw tensing as he averts his eyes again. He did tell her that, but he has trouble trusting his own words. Running low on water could have disastrous consequences in the desert. Having enough of it while on a trail is one of the first essentials. What if they get stranded? What if one of the horses suffers a more severe injury than Cash already did?      

     “How much longer?”      Y/N didn’t mean the words to come out pleading, but when Dean returns her gaze sympathetically, she realizes how desperate she sounded. He then glances at the volcanic landscape around him, determining their position. With Battleship Mountain on his left and the entrance of Boulder Canyon straight up ahead, it can’t be more than a mile.      “We’re almost there,” he reassures her. “I promise.”      She nods, but her smile isn’t sincere. Everything other than ‘we’ll be there in five minutes’ is too long. Dean seems to be able to read her mind, however.      “We can go for a swim once we get there,” he adds.      Now Y/N does look up, her interest peaked.      “A swim?”      “Hm-hm. Where we’re headin’ isn’t just a little stream. There is water there the whole year round. So if you want, we can go for a swim.” He smiles at her.      God, that sounds heavenly. She looks forward to it already, although a question rises almost instantly. She can’t go swimming in her jeans, so that means the cowboy is going to see her, all of her. Insecure she smiles back at him, trying not to let her self-consciousness stand in the way.      “Don’t wait up for me; if you want to lead the group, go ahead. I’ll catch up.” She changes the subject, nodding at the six horses about forty yards up front.      He shrugs, shaking his head lightly and dismissing her suggestion.       “Benny will manage. I’d rather be riding next to you.” 

     And so he stays by her side as they descend into the narrow canyon, the trail getting steep. She lets Joplin choose the path, trusting the agile horse with bringing her down the slope. They drop several hundred feet in a short amount of time, Dean on her tail the entire time, making sure she will arrive at the river safely. Then the path evens out, a plateau hanging over a cliff seems to be the end of the line. The other wranglers halt at the edge, the moral lifting at the sight. Curious Y/N rides up to join them, when she spots it. In the middle of the dramatic landscape with intimidating rock formations, which cast long shadows over the land as the sun hangs low in the west, an oasis of green frames the riverbed. Crystal clear water runs through the La Barge Creek into Canyon Lake. Salt River snakes through the landscape to their east. They made it. They finally made it. After a long and stressful day in the saddle, they can finally recharge.      “Boys and girls, welcome to Eagle’s Nest,” Benny announces, a wide grin on his face.

     Y/N lets a deep sigh slip from her lips, just the image before her having her feel a little bit lighter already. She smiles at Dean, who mimics her expression, clearly relieved that it all worked out. The head wrangler is the first one to ride down the hill, the rest of the company in his wake. About a hundred yards from the water he stops Ted.      “Set up camp here?” Benny assumes.      Dean nods. “Let’s make it quick, before we run out of light.”      He dismounts his horse, slightly stiffer than he did yesterday; even the experienced trail rider is feeling this one deep in his muscles. Y/N does the same and she lands on the rocky surface with a thud, her feet tingling. Walking seems almost foreign, the first few steps a little unsteady, a sensation similar to having sea legs. Her supervisor hands her Ted.      “You can take the horses to drink first,” he lets his eyes glide from Y/N to Macy and Jon, who looks like he is in no shape to help set up camp. The women nod and get to it, taking over the other horses as well, figuring the sooner the evening chores are done, the sooner they can put their feet up. 

     All eight horses eagerly walk further down the slope and step into the creek while putting their lips to the surface. Joplin almost drains the lake, her ears ticking forward with each gulp. Y/N chuckles at her eagerness, as she takes her flask from her saddlebag and fills it up. Jon throws water into his face, a delighted sigh escaping him as he freshens up, Macy following his example.       “I’ve never appreciated water so much,” he claims. “I will never take it for granted again.”      “You and the water need a room?” Macy nags, splashing water at her friend, who returns the favor.       Y/N watches them banter, taking a long swig from her bottle, emptying almost three quarters in one go. The cold water runs down her throat and for a moment she feels a little uneasy, but then the fluid settles in her stomach. God, she was thirsty. Maybe even dehydrated, in combination with the relentless heat. But after a few more sips, she feels a lot better. Refilling her flask again, she straightens her back, looking up at the plateau where Dean, Benny and Brad are setting up the tents in record time. She walks around Joplin to the head wrangler’s horse, taking his bottle and filling it up as well. Having done the same for the other two wranglers, she takes Joplin and Ted to the camp, giving out water.

     “You’re a frickin’ lifesaver. Thanks, darlin’,” Benny compliments, taking his bottle gladly. After handing Brad’s flask back, she walks up to Dean, who is setting up a paddock for the horses. He doesn’t notice her until she’s right behind him; without thinking about it, she lays her hand on his strong biceps to get his attention. The wrangler turns around surprised, meeting her soft smile. She holds the water bottle up, his eyes bouncing from her to the refreshment, looking at it with the same want. Gratefully he takes the flask, his fingers brushing over hers in the exchange, before he twists the cap off and takes three, four, five swigs. He lets a contented ‘ahh’ slip from his lips, breathing out relieved. Y/N tries not to stare, but it’s like she’s under hypnosis. Those same lips were on hers last night, and she has to admit she wants that again. She needs to retain herself, though, because Brad and Benny are setting up the third tent next to them.

     Dean lowers the bottle, catching her slightly lowered jaw and hungry eyes. He smirks, his emerald greens twinkling as he wets his dry lips. Then he tucks his chin down, looking deep into her eyes while his darken a little. It seems like it’s only then that she realizes she is gaping and the blood rushes to her face. She breaks eye contact, smiling at her feet sheepishly. Oh, he knows exactly what he is doing.       After gathering her confidence, she looks up to meet his gaze, the playful smirk back on his lips. Something in the air has changed. The nerves have dissolved, together with the doubt. There is no question if they both feel attracted to each other, but rather when the pull between them grows too strong to resist. The silent moment of sexual tension lasts a couple of solid seconds, before Dean is called over by Brad to help him out. As he walks past Y/N, he holds her gaze and lets his fingertips brush her forearm. It leaves her skin sensitive, goosebumps running up, despite the fact that the temperature is nowhere near chilly.     

     Within ten minutes the camp is ready for occupation. The horses calmly chew on their hay and scavenge for grass and twigs in the makeshift paddock. Despite the long day, none of them are visibly tired. Not even Cash, who seems to have forgotten about the whole snake bite incident.       “Who wants to go swimmin’?”      Y/N puts down the last stone and closes the circle of the firepit, only looking up when she dusts off her hands. Benny has already shed his shirt, unzipping his pants now with no shame whatsoever. Stunned she stares at him, then quickly averts her eyes.       “Hell yes! I’ve been looking forward to diving into that creek ever since I laid eyes on it,” Jon muses, his appreciation for water still not faltering.

     The intern’s gaze lingers on Brad and Jon now; one kicking off his boots, the other unbuckling his belt. Even Macy follows without a second thought. The female guest notices Y/N’s hesitation, because she shrugs as she slips her denim jeans from her hips.      “No different than a bikini, right?” she comments carefree.       Macy has a point, it doesn’t ease Y/N’s nerves, though. Of course it’s not skinny dipping, but she still feels uncomfortable exposing so much skin. She glances at Dean, who leaves his hat on the corner pole of one of the tents. For a second she freezes as he unbuckles his belt, realizing there’s something else she hasn’t considered. Seeing Dean in nothing but his underwear might just be a bit too much for her to handle.            “Last one down takes the night’s watch!”      The broad shouldered farrier descends down the hill - only wearing his form fitting boxer briefs - with the guests in tow. Brad chases his sister, who squeals as she tries to stay out of reach, running into the water in her red bra and striped boy shorts. She doesn’t seem to care about how she looks. Y/N gulps as she watches her, wishing she had that kind of confidence.      “You comin’ or do you need my help undressin’?”      She jumps when she feels Dean’s hand on her hip and turns around. He stripped from his clothes, only wearing a pair of grey boxers. Dear Lord, he looks amazing. Last time she saw him shirtless, it was the morning of her first day on the job. He was freshly showered then, his hair fluffy. Now it is fixed with traces of gel, pushed up again when he ran his hand through it earlier, after his hat flattened the light brown strands. Dirt and dust have mixed with the sweat that the heat surfaced, adding to the tan lines on his arms and neck. She swallows with difficulty and tears her eyes from his toned chest up to his evergreen eyes.       The wrangler senses her discomfort, because he narrows his eyes at her slightly, the trademark smirk dying down. She knows that he was joking about the undressing part, right?     “You okay?” he checks.      “Yeah, yeah. I’m - I’m fine,” she assures, faking a smile. “I’ll be down in a minute.”      Dean holds her gaze for a second, trying to read her. Not sure if he made her feel uncomfortable, he lets his hand slip from her waist and decides against the quick kiss he was going to leave on her lips; he doesn’t want to push her. His expression is soft now, letting her know that it’s okay if she needs time.       “Alright,” he returns, leaving it at that.      He walks past her towards the water, the sounds of splashing and laughter welcoming him. Taking a deep breath, Y/N closes her eyes. She has to go down and join them and doing that clothed is both more conspicuous and impractical, since she’ll be wearing the same pair of jeans in the morning. Not taking a swim isn’t an option either, because this might be the only chance she gets to clean herself thoroughly, until they get back to the ranch. She has no choice, so why is she blowing this up in her mind? Why is she so self-conscious about her appearance? Because Jo told her once how Dean only goes for the pretty girls? Because she saw his former fling Casey, the beautiful brunette who could as well have been a model? Or is it because no one has ever looked at her like the head wrangler, and she doesn’t want him to see her differently after he witnesses all of her?

     Frustrated, she takes off her hat and pulls the hairband from her braid, strapping it around her wrist. Internally she scolds herself for letting the insecurity get to her, all the while she unbuttons her plaid blouse and shrugs it off hastily. Before she changes her mind, she takes off one boot, then the other, leaving them by her tent, neatly placed next to each other with her socks inside. Finally she pushes her jeans down, folding them up and placing them on top of her Western boots.       Again she inhales, because there she stands, in nothing but her black hipsters, a navy blue bra and a white tank top. Even though she had to pack light, she at least could have brought matching underwear. Not brave enough to take her undershirt off, she steps onto the path towards the water barefoot, running her fingers through her hair. The sight in front of her takes away some of her anxiety, because the wranglers, who were running low on moral an hour ago, are now enjoying their refreshing swim. Macy’s significant giggle echoes between the rocks at the river bed as Jon and Brad continue to tease her. Benny swims a slow lap, floating in the middle of the creek, while Dean washes his face in shallower waters. Thankfully, none of them are paying much attention as the intern approaches the waterline. 

     As she dips a toe in the water to test the temperature, Dean turns to look at her. His eyes shift from playful to mesmerized in a split second, because he has never seen her like this. For the first time since he met her, she’s wearing her hair down. The braid she left in for two days, leaves small waves in her locks, coming down like a waterfall. Her exposed legs haven’t seen much sun, due to her Northern origins, and probably her shyness as well. They seem strong, though, hours of horse riding and training leading to the muscles barely visibly moving under her soft skin, as she steps into the water.       He smiles at the sight of the young woman, who sweeps him off his feet every time he lays eyes on her. “There you are.”            She returns his expression, insecurity oozing through when she covers herself as much as she can. She has pulled her tank top down far enough to stretch over the little shorts she’s wearing. He is careful not to look at her differently, not wanting the self-conscious young woman to think that seeing her in less clothing changes his perspective, but deep down it hurts him. It hurts him that she apparently doesn’t feel like she’s beautiful, because God damn, she is.       “Just take the plunge, Yankee,” he encourages, letting himself fall back smoothly, the water up to his shoulders now.      “You know, for a place that is as hot as it is here, the water is pretty damn cold,” Y/N scoffs, collecting some of the water in her cupped hands and spreading it on her arms.      Dean chuckles at that. She said ‘damn’, it’s about as close to a curse that he’s heard from her.       “Once you’re in, it’s not so bad,” he promises. 

     Not having the heart to jump into the cool water, she puts one step into his direction, the surface at her knees now. This afternoon she would have committed a crime for a refreshing swim, but now that she is standing here, the cold licking at her ankles, she shivers. She still has her arms crossed, hugging herself in an attempt to feel warm and comforted. Movement of the water draws her attention and Y/N looks up at the head wrangler, who is moving towards her. Normally that wouldn’t strike her as alarming, but when she notices the mischievous grin adorning his handsome face, she holds her ground.      “W-what are you doing?” she stammers.      Dean doesn’t answer, but raises his eyebrows at her, fighting the fading resistance of the water with every stride. Oh boy, he is clearly up to no good. It causes her to step back and put out her hands in defense.      “No - no - no! Dean, don’t you dare!” she warns, once she understands where this is going.

     Y/N steps out of the creek now, trying to get away from him. But the cowboy is quick, and even when she sprints away, he manages to catch up. She lets out a scream when he grabs her by the waist, locking her to his chest with his strong arms. He then lifts her up without a strain and walks back to the creek. Not impressed with the fight she puts up as she tries to escape his grip, he steps into the cool water.      “Dean, put me down! Put me --”      Honoring her request, he jumps in, turning so that he is the first to dunk in the water and only then lets her go. They both go under, the cowboy coming up before her, shaking the water from his face. When Y/N breaks through the surface, he throws his head back while laughing out loud. The sheer horror on her face says it all; her mouth hanging open, her hair soaked and covering her eyes, her shoulders pulled up to her ears. She looks more like a cat who got dropped into the bath than a human being.

     She wants to be mad at him, but the sound of his laughter melts her stone cold limbs. With a scoff she pushes the tangled strands from her face, glaring at the cowboy as she bites down on her lip in order to not break character. But then she chuckles, shaking her head.      “You are such a jerk,” she utters.      “You were taking forever,” he returns sniggering.       Amused he watches her, moving a little closer. He’s about to apologize, when Y/N kicks her foot up, sending a big splash his way. He turns his head to avoid getting even wetter and counters with a good pitch, a handful of water sloshing at her as she protects her face. They continue to spatter like a bunch of kids, cackling as they do so, until Benny intervenes.

     “Children!” he calls out, finally getting his friend’s attention.      Both stop mid-action, glancing aside at the farrier who is watching the banter with his arms crossed and the water at his waist.      “Permission to get the diving boards, Chief?” he requests.      Dean nods, confirming, liking his Southern brother’s idea. Y/N studies him puzzled, however.      “We didn’t bring diving boards, did we?” she double checks, not sure what Benny is up to.      “Not the typical ones, no,” Dean returns mysteriously. “You’ll see.”

     Benny returns from the camp not even a minute later, a horse by the halter in each hand. Stunned Y/N watches how he leads Ted Nugent and his own horse Ozzy Osbourne towards the riverbed, the large animals stepping in trustingly. He hands Dean Ted as he passes by, guiding the other chestnut to the center of the creek. When the water reaches to Ozzy’s shoulder, Benny pulls himself on top of the calm horse. Clearly it isn’t the first time that the wranglers have done this, because even when the farrier stands up on the gelding’s back, Ozzy waits patiently.       “Bombs away!”

     With a loud cheer Benny jumps from the ‘platform’, pulling his knees to his chest and breaking the surface with an impressive cannonball dive. He sends a tidal wave over the tourists, who rally him on. They swim towards Ozzy, who seems to love the cool down plus the attention. One by one they climb on his back, diving from his strong hindquarters.      Dean watches the bunch with a contentment over him that Y/N hasn’t seen before. He leans against Ted, his arm resting over the arc of the horse’s spine. Of course this isn’t the first time she notices how relaxed he is, how at home he feels, and yet something is different about him. Like he reached a new level of happiness, of fulfillment. That couldn’t possibly have anything to do with her, now could it? But when he lets his eyes wander from the frolicking guests to Y/N, his smile grows wider, edging crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes.       “Wanna go for a ride?” he asks.      Without wasting words, she nods, holding his gaze until he takes Ted’s leadrope. Skillfully he swings his leg over the horse’s back, using the momentum to jump from the creek’s bottom and landing behind Ted’s withers. Once he’s seated, he extends his hand towards the woman beside him, grabbing her arm and interlocking it with his. With one swift pull he hoists her from the water, Y/N using the same technique to sway onto the horse, settling behind the head wrangler. As he steers Ted a little deeper into the water, his free hand comes to rest on Y/N’s thigh, not caring about the guests seeing them together. 

     The cowgirl’s balance on a horse is that of a gymnast on the beam, so holding on to Dean wouldn’t be necessary, but she puts her arms around his waist anyway. Comfortable and allowing herself to let this be, like he has encouraged her to, she rests her cheek against the hollow between his shoulder blades for a moment, closing her eyes. Her bare feet sweep through the water, her toes drawing ripples on the surface, the break catching the last light of the day. Despite that she is not holding the reins, bareback on a horse that she doesn’t know, she feels safe. She hasn’t felt this carefree since the early days of her horse riding career. Her grandfather would walk with her during those very first pony rides, teaching her about horses along the way. She trusted him fully, never once doubting his life lessons and knowledge. With Dean it’s a different kind of faith. It’s knowing he will be right there whenever she needs him, but also to give her the courage to take that leap.       “You alright back there, Yankee?” he wonders, feeling her smile against his skin.      “Yeah,” she acknowledges. “I am.”      The corner of Dean’s mouth pulls upward, his hand holding the leadrope shifting from Ted’s mane to cover her hands on his stomach, fingers entwining, trapping the braided cord in between. The rope made of horsehair scratches his palm, a contrast to her soft skin. Grateful he breathes in, the smell of desert dust underlaid with a subtle, herbal, organic scent of the river fills his nose.       Before, he never felt like he needed something more in life. He has never gone steady with a woman, not more than a couple of weeks at least. He was never looking for a relationship and appreciated the freedom that came with that. But now, having her pressed against his back, warm and comforting, he realizes what he’s been missing. 

     They approach the other wranglers, the rider exchanging a knowing look with Benny, who takes in the perfect picture delighted. Before the guests notice the intimacy, Y/N slips her arms from Dean’s strong torso, pulling up her feet.      “What are you doin’?” the cowboy wonders, looking over his shoulder.       She stands up on Ted’s back and stretches her legs, steadying herself by holding on to him until she finds her footing. Then she straightens up.      “Taking the plunge,” she chuckles.      The intern jumps then, squeezing her nose closed as she folds herself into a ball before she crashes through the surface. Macy is still cackling when Y/N comes up, unsuccessful at dodging the spatter that came her way. Meanwhile the others cheer her on, now that she has finally joined them. She has completely forgotten about her insecurities, or the cold water that washed all that away. All she can think of is how blessed she is to be here, to gain so much more than just work experience. 

     The crew takes several more dives from the horses, who allow the gambol calmly. Dean drops an impressive dive bomb right between the group, not outdoing his slightly heavier friend Benny, but creating quite a splash nonetheless. Time flies by way too quickly, and before they know it, the sun has disappeared behind the mountains, leaving only dark shades of red and purple to decorate the sky. The air cools quickly and everyone knows they should get ready for the night. Eventually it’s Benny who rattles up the company.      “Alright, y’all. Time for Benny’s famous Southern soul soup. Get your butts to camp and start that fire. I’ve got some cookin’ to do.”      He shoos the tourists out of the creek, following them with the two horses in tow. He looks over his shoulder at his best friend and the intern, who linger. A mischievous grin comes Dean’s way before the farrier straightens himself, walking away whistling. Y/N sniggers at the funny character; looks like he has been acting as the head wrangler’s wingman.      “Smooth,” she comments, a knowing yet amused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.      “Yeah, he’s real subtle,” Dean chuckles, busted. “Got you alone again, though.”      He comes closer, water moving between them, and suddenly nature goes quiet. His hands end up on her hips, pulling in the girl who is so willingly looking at him. His fingers trace the hem of her white tank top as he dips his head, his nose brushing against hers. 

     Before Y/N knows it, he’s kissing her again. She melts into him, her muscles going slack under his touch. Like the night before, the kiss is gentle and unhurried, giving her a moment to compare the two. His lips are a little more chapped, probably due to the long day in the sun while running low on water. A three day old stubble tickles her skin, the tough hairs slightly longer than yesterday. He’s clean now, fresh water having washed away the sweat and dirt. The first-time nerves aren’t there this evening, but she does feel that same fire rise up from her coil. That same desire to stay here forever, because no kiss has ever felt this good.

     He parts from her, with his hands still splayed on her lower back, looking down on the cowgirl he has hopelessly fallen for. A few clouds reflect the little light that is coming from the horizon, but it’s enough for Dean to notice something. He grins widely, even though he tries to tone it down, as his hands leave her waist to run the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone, sweeping across the area under her eyes. For a second she wonders what he’s trying to brush away, but then it hits her.      “Oh, Lord. I look like a Goth, don’t I?” she realizes, remembering how fond she was to still have a significant amount of mascara on her lashes this morning, helping her feel a little less naked. Now she regrets not washing it off completely.      “More like a sad panda,” Dean chuckles, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a laugh.

     Awkwardly she looks down at the water, but the wrangler stops her, hooking his finger under her chin.      “Don’t hide,” he says, his expression soft.      Cupping her face, he wipes away the last black shades from her flushed cheeks, then drinks her in, his eyes flicking over her features. Embarrassment remains prominent in her stance, though. Dean feels his chest tighten a little, because if anything, he did not want to make her feel uneasy.       “You know you don’t have to wear it, right?” he starts, his thumb caressing her soft skin. “The makeup?”      She looks up at him again now, still insecure, but carefully hopeful. Where is he going with this?      “I mean, if you want to and if it makes you feel better, don’t let me stop ya...” he adds, stammering a little bit. “I’m just saying that you don’t need it. You’re beautiful... With or without.”

     A small smile forms on her lips. Again she’s blushing, not from shame, but from flattery this time.       “You think I’m beautiful?” she asks, traces of slight disbelief in her voice.      “Hell, yeah,” Dean assures smirking, half rolling his eyes at her doubt. “And as my lovely cousin told you in such detail, I have snooped around plenty, so I’d know. Those girls ain’t got nothing on you.”      She laughs at the joke, casting her eyes down.       “Hey…”      Y/N glances up, the intensity of his eyes catching her off guard.       “I mean it,” he whispers.       Showing her exactly how amazing she is, he kisses her hard this time, leaving her breathless. Overwhelmed by the intensity she stiffens, but then opens up to him, allowing his tongue to slip past her lips. With her eyes closed she waits, letting him take the lead in their dance.       Careful not to break the moment, Dean leans back, letting himself fall gently into the water, taking her with him. Floating away on waves of elation, he envelopes her in his arms, offering her the warmth of his body in the icy creek. He rises up then, searching for footing again on the floor of pebbles, the water at chest height now. For a second they part, breathing in each other’s air. The wrangler opens his eyes, looking down at the gorgeous woman who is slowly becoming his. Waiting for even the slightest hint of hesitation, he moves his fingers to trace down the hem of her top again, slipping underneath. She gazes back, her eyes piercing with nothing but want, nodding barely noticeable. Dean spots it, though. It’s like the lights on the track jumped to green, meeting her halfway in a kiss much more heated than the previous ones. 

     His hands hike up under her shirt, gliding over her delicate skin as his mouth never leaves hers. A hitching breath passes her lips when the pad of his thumb caresses the underside of her breast, featherlight, yet electrifying. Dean pushes her bra up slightly, almost tracing her nipple, which has hardened both from the cold and arousal. Completely in awe, she rolls her head back a little, exposing her neck. Gladly Dean ghosts over the junction to her shoulder, running his teeth towards her collarbone torturously slow, biting down a groan on the curve. Good Lord. His touch, his tongue, his mouth. Everything about this feels amazing. The freezing water is just the right temperature to cool her heated skin, the swell of the small waves identical to the one she feels in her lower abdomen. The cowboy can have her anyway he wants, she’s not going to fight him on it. In fact, she urges him to keep going, carding her nails through his damp hair and applying pressure once she closes her fingers around the brown locks, darkened by millions of droplets.

     Dean’s right hand descends down her body again while his left remains to attend her soft breast. He follows the arch of her back, then lower, kneading and exploring her behind, firm from years in the saddle. Holy shit, this cannot possibly feel this good. The resolution to take things slow goes right out the window, as his fingers find space above the back of her thigh, following the edge of her underwear. Then he grips her tight there, his other hand sliding to cover the clasp of her bra, not freeing her from it just yet. He lifts her a little, pushing her flush against him. Hungry for the woman in his arms, he covers the top of her breasts with his mouth, the soaked fabric of her top between him and her hot skin. Dean knew it before, but this, this unbelievable display of chemistry only confirms it; she’s it. 

     His lips find hers again, even though she has to keep breaking away in order to get enough air. Her respiration has picked up, every breath coming out labored. She can feel the gentle vibration of a low moan coming from deep within his chest, only adding fuel to the wildfire that is spreading through her body fast. At first she is unaware of the noise of water rustling in the distance, but then Dean freezes. Not understanding why he has stopped, she nuzzles her nose against his cheek, drunk and thirsty for his affection, seeking his mouth, but the wrangler is focussed on something else. Confused Y/N opens her eyes, looking up at the handsome man, whose eyes are fixed on the estuary of La Barge Creek to Canyon Lake.      “Dean?”      “You hear that?” he whispers.

     The sound of water moving and the fragile surface breaking dawns on her now and she follows his gaze into the dark. Then she hears a neigh and her heart skips a beat. That wasn’t one of theirs.      “Find the water…”      “Find the herd,” Dean finishes her sentence.      Still in his embrace, she watches the mystical sight, able to make out the shapes now under a faint moon, once the clouds move away from blocking the light. The group of horses crosses the creek, some stopping to drink. Dean lets out a relieved laugh, turning to face Y/N again.      “We found them,” she smiles.      “We did,” he whispers.      He kisses her briefly, knowing that he has to warn Benny, before the herd moves away. He drowns in her eyes a little longer, though, the ignited ecstasy still sparkling visibly in her pupils. His heart swells, his mind calms. He knows. He has found so much more than just the horses on this trail. 

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part fourteen here

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part ten) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±6500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part ten: Y/N is about to go on an adventure. Good thing she has her friend Jo to help her pack and her crush Dean to guide the way. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: The Man With The Harmonica - Ennio Morricone, Hide And Seek - Gareth Dunlop (end scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

    “Wait, you’re not planning on bringing all that with you, are ya?”     Y/N’s eyes leave the three pairs of boots from which she still has to choose. Not to decide what two sets to leave behind, but which to wear and which to pack. Jo stands in the doorway of her tiny room, staring at the bed, which is covered in flannels, shirts, tops, several hats, jeans, jackets, sweaters, towels, socks, matching underwear, swimwear, a makeup bag, and a toiletry bag. Even a hair iron and of course her phone charger lay amongst the collection of items that one way or another are going to have to fit into her bag.

    The season is coming to an end now that September has reached its final days. It’s time to move the two-year-old horses down from the summer reservation. Bobby had asked his intern if she wanted to come along and of course she blurted out ‘yes!’ before he could even finish his sentence. She was so excited about the trail ride and started packing immediately. This is going to be quite an experience, especially for a show rider like herself who usually sticks to riding in a fenced arena.     It’s a good thing that she started gathering her things early, because she has been contemplating what to bring for over an hour now. She’s the kind of girl who pays extra for exceeding the luggage weight limit on her flights, so no wonder she’s having it tough choosing what to bring.

    A little helpless she looks over at Jo, who’s waiting on her response.     “I was planning on bringing this, actually,” she returns, hesitatingly.     “Damn… poor horse,” the blonde cowgirl comments, eyeing all her friend’s stuff.     “Too much?��� Y/N assumes.     “Just a tad,” Jo scoffs as she walks in. “And what the hell are you bringing the entire electronics store for?”     “It’s just my charger and my hair iron. I will look like birds are nesting on my head if I don’t straighten this out,” she objects, holding out the strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail.     “And you can’t have that with Dean around.” The ranch owner’s daughter crosses her arms in front of her chest, knowingly frowning at her friend.     Y/N tilts her head and glares back, but fails to come up with a decent counter, because she’s not wrong.     “Shut up,” she mutters instead.     “By all means, pack it.” Jo shrugs as she turns back to the door. “But unless you tie a generator behind that horse of yours or find a cactus with a plug, you ain’t charging a damn thing.”     “Wait. What?” Y/N responds, confused.

    Jo sways around, her blonde braid hanging down from one shoulder. She narrows her eyes, trying to understand how her friend could be so oblivious to the fact that there won’t be any electricity where they are going. “What did my old man tell you exactly?”     “That we might have to spend a couple of nights out camping,” Y/N recalls, trying to remember his exact words.     “Have you ever been out camping, city girl?” Jo wonders, her tone indicating that she has figured it out.     Now Y/N crosses her arms defensively. Just because she comes from a wealthy family, doesn’t mean that she has never been on a trip back to basics.     “I have, as a matter of fact,” she returns confident.     “Let me define ‘camping’,” Jo kicks off. “I’m talking ‘bout the sleeping-in-a-tent, no-shower-for-days, cooking-your-own-food-above-a-fire kind of camping. Not the kind where you park the luxurious double axle camper nice and close to the restaurant and the power station and get that satellite working as soon as possible so y’all can watch Netflix.”

    Y/N opens her mouth to claim that she is not that kind of person, but has to admit her loss. She’s right, down to the double axle camper and the satellite TV.     “So, no electricity? No shower?” she asks, intimidated by the matter, a trace of panic in her voice.     “Nope,” Jo confirms, amused. “Better start prioritizing. Let me get my saddlebags, you can use those. Everything that doesn’t fit in there except for your sleeping bag, is not comin' along for the ride.”     “Alright,” Y/N agrees reluctantly, nonetheless grateful for the help. “But how are you going to pack if I have your saddlebags?”     “Simple: I’m not. I’m staying home,” the ranch owner’s daughter says.     Astonished, the intern looks at her. Wait, her friend isn’t coming on this trail? The thought actually scares Y/N a little, because Jo has been there to guide her since she picked her up from the airport over a month ago.     “Are you kidding me? Why?”     “Someone has to run this joint while y’all are having fun. Usually, the stable crew guards the castle, but with Ash gone…”

    Y/N drops her head, her mind going out to the former cattle worker. Ash left a week ago. Bobby gave him two weeks' notice but said he was free to go anytime. The loyal employee showed character and stayed as long as Bobby could afford to keep him. But after those fourteen days, Ash had no choice but to leave. Everyone was sad to see the quirky fellow go. The exchange of hugs between him and every member of his working family was moving to witness.     “Dad offered to stay behind by himself, but he’s getting too old to work that hard,” Jo explains. “Garth and I will make sure everything runs smoothly here.”     “What about me? How am I supposed to function without my conscience?” Y/N pouts.     “You’ll be fine. You got Dean to hold your hand the entire way,” Jo mocks.     The worried cowgirl chuckles. “That’s the whole problem now, isn’t it?”     Jo gets up and intends to leave the room to get the saddlebags. She halts in the doorway, though, offering good advice. “Just remember: don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”     “He’s your cousin. Of course you’re not going to sleep with him,” Y/N returns smartly, pulling a laugh from the blonde cowgirl.     “See my point?” she returns, winking back before she leaves the room.

    Thirty minutes later, Y/N is packed and ready, but sacrifices had to be made. Obviously, the hair iron and phone charger didn’t make the final cut, but neither did her shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizer, since she won’t be able to shower anyway. Her makeup didn’t fit into the bags either. It hurts to leave it all behind and she already feels insecure about spending days with the others wearing a blank canvas of a face. Sure she isn’t as fresh at the end of a working day as she was at the start of it, but so far she has been able to keep her hair and makeup in check. Now she won’t even have a mirror to judge how tired and ordinary she looks without a brow pencil and mascara.     “You’re all set.” Jo, who is on her knees on the wooden floor fighting with the saddlebag, secures the last strap, shifts her weight back on her heels and places her hands on her narrow waistline.     “I owe you one. I would have never managed alone,” Y/N says, appreciating her friend’s help.     “You know you can count on me.” She shrugs it off after getting up. “I’ll lend you my raincoat and my gloves too. Never sure if you’re gonna need ’em, but if the monsoon decides to throw a curveball at ya, you’ll be thanking me.”     She pops out of the room again, as excited for the intern as Y/N is herself. Jo’s bubbly personality has her smiling even after she leaves. It’s funny how it feels like they have known each other for years and yet it was only a month ago that she got into the pickup truck at the airport. One month ago, this challenge started. Her dad tries to hide the surprise in his voice every time she phones him to tell him how much she is enjoying her time here. He probably expected a plea for money. That, or a one-way ticket back to luxury and easy work.

    Y/N looks at one of the pictures that she nailed to the wooden wall. It portrays her family; Mom, Dad, and her three brothers surrounding Y/N at her graduation ceremony. Sure, she misses them, but she is starting to become a part of this ranch family too. That’s how it feels anyway: accepted, wanted… even loved. Her eyes hover over the picture frames and other decorations that she used to spice up her room a little. Many of the photos show Meadow, some snapped during shows, others at home in the fields. Won belt buckles and ribbons are trophies of their success together, each memory a highlight of her partnership with the special Quarter mare. Y/N remembers when she won every single one of them.

    “You’re not getting homesick, are ya?”     She startles, jolted awake from her daydream, and turns her head to face her handsome supervisor. Dean leans against the doorpost, and judging by the amused expression, he has been standing there for longer than a second. Dear Lord, she got so caught in recalling past victories and happy memories, that she didn’t hear him walk up to her room. The sight of him has her lost for air, even after recovering from the scare. He stands on one leg, the other bent and crossing his back foot, resting on the nose of his boot. Fringe from his worn chaps fall down over his jeans, a dark brown Stetson to match it. Dressed in a red plaid buttoned shirt and a denim jacket over it, he looks even better than he did this morning. The handsome models in the old Marlboro commercials have nothing on him.     “Don’t worry. I’m not going back anytime soon,” she responds before Dean can call her out on staring. “Besides, this is beginning to feel a lot like home, too.”     The wrangler glances at the wall next to the bunk bed and lets his eyes roam over the photos, ribbons and buckles. He smiles at a goofy picture of her and her three older brothers.     “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he compliments.     Y/N smiles at that. “Well, I am going to be staying here for a while. Might as well make it cozy.”

    He grins, his green eyes catching the rays of sunlight coming through the window. Specks of gold stand out amongst the apple green, his pupils adjusting as they flick over the captured moments. They stop when he notices a photo taken during a prize-giving ceremony. He recognizes Meadow instantly, her trademark white face is hard to miss. She stands proudly with a white and blue sash hanging from her neck, event sponsors standing next to the horse, presenting the prizes won while smiling at the camera. But the person who smiles the brightest is Y/N, who sits squarely in the saddle with a wide grin on her face and sparkles in her eyes.     “You won the State Championships,” he says impressed, reading the footnote. “That’s pretty damn impressive.”     Y/N lights up but stays humble. “Meadow was on fire. It was the ride of my life.”     “I bet it was.” Dean watches her for a second, admiring, while she reminisces over the highlight of her riding career. Then he glances at his watch briefly. “We leave at ten. You’re all packed?”

    “She is now,” Jo interrupts, holding out a rolled-up sleeping bag and neatly packed raincoat. “Gloves are in the pockets.”     “Thanks, Jo.” Y/N takes them and looks over her shoulder in search of her saddlebags. Dean instantly moves in to pick them up, since she has her hands full anyway.     “I got it,” he states, lifting her luggage over his shoulder.     “Oh, how noble of you!” Jo teases her cousin, not at all impressed with his manors. “What are you gonna do next? Buy a white horse?”     Y/N snorts, but quickly straightens her mouth into a thin line to silence herself and hide the sign of amusement. Luckily, the wrangler is too busy countering her friend, as he follows the two girls into the living room.     “It’s called ‘being nice’. You should try it sometime,” Dean snarls.     Before the ranch owner’s daughter pushes open the front door, she looks over her shoulder. “Would you like to hold the door for her too?” she suggests, a challenging smirk on her face.     “Would you like to shut your piehole?” Dean fires back after rolling his eyes.

    Y/N giggles at the bickering, and opens the door herself by pushing it with her foot. If she didn’t know any better, she would think the two are siblings. Maybe not by blood, but they spent a great deal of their childhood together in the same house, at least that’s what she understood from Jo. Over the years, the youngest Singer figured out that she might not be able to beat her older cousin when it comes down to strength and speed, but verbally she stands her ground just fine. Now is no different, because Dean might have had a comeback ready, Y/N doesn’t fail to notice the color on his cheeks. He carefully glances at her from under his hat, the cowgirl smiling back reassuringly before she descends down the stairs.

    At the tack up area, the Joshua tree stands tall, offering meager shade to the horses and humans underneath its branches. It’s rush hour. Benny and Garth are readying the horses, assisted by the three riders that are coming along for the trail. Dean was against bringing people along on such a long and potentially dangerous ride, but Bobby said the tourists paid good money and were experienced, so eventually, he agreed. Eight horses are tied up to the rails around the yucca tree. Six of them will be ridden, the other two will be the group’s packhorses. Y/N spots Joplin amongst them, the feisty mare that has grown on her over the past weeks.     “She’s yours for the next couple of days.” Dean points her out, heading over to the dark horse with Y/N’s baggage. “Since the two of you get along so well.”

    Delighted, she faces the mare, who pushes her soft nose into the folded raincoat in her arms, sniffing up the aroma. Y/N likes the little dark horse. She is not easy, has different ideas about what the pace should be, and can get very offended when her rider tells her otherwise, but there’s something about her attitude that the intern appreciates. She’s fast, tireless from the second her rider puts a foot in the stirrup, to the second he or she gets off. The Quarter is perfect for a trail like this. It didn’t cross her mind to bring Meadow for the ride. The reining horse, which is used to train on smooth arena footing, would most likely injure herself on the uneven rocky slopes and narrow paths. The hours under saddle would be much longer than regular training too, and Y/N does not want to confront her four-legged best friend with a task that she isn’t up for.     Dean swings the saddlebags over Joplin’s back and straps them to the saddle. He mounts the sleeping bag and Jo’s raincoat that he takes from the intern on top, his fingers briefly brushing against hers in the transfer. The tingling sensation lingers on the surface of her skin where he touched her, causing her to be the one who is flustered now. The wrangler carefully glances over as he secures the baggage. She feels caught, but his expression is soft and comforting; he felt it too.

    “Okay, y’all! We’re goin’ in five!” Benny shouts loud enough for everyone on the square to hear with his Southern accent thick on his tongue. “If you have to use the john or forgot to pack clean undies, now would be your last chance to do so.”

    Last preparations are made by the crew. Benny secures his lasso to the horn of the saddle with a leather rope strap, while Dean consults his uncle one more time before departure, the two of them looking at a map of the Superstition Mountains. Then Dean folds the map and shoves it into the inside pocket of his jacket, after which he walks over to Ted Nugent, the big brown gelding that he will be riding for the upcoming days, since his favorite buckskin is out with a tendon injury ever since that rainy morning when the cattle broke out.  Ellen walks up to her nephew and hands him a paper bag which, without a doubt, contains something delicious.     “Made you some pecan tassies for on the road,” she says. “Wouldn’t want you to miss my baking too much.”    “Thanks, Ellen.” Dean gives her a grateful nod and puts the tassies in his saddlebag.     “Be careful out there, alright?” she presses, clearly worried about the quest that lies ahead for the wranglers. “Bring them back home safely.”     “I’ll take care of the bunch. I promise,” he assures comfortingly, gently pulling her into his chest after which he gives his aunt a kiss on her hair.

    Ellen and Dean aren’t the only ones who exchange a few last words before the group leaves.     “Okay, grasshopper. This is it,” Jo’s voice sounds from behind Y/N.     She spins on her heels in between the horses to meet the ranch owner’s daughter, who folds her arms around Y/N and hugs her tight. Happily, she returns the embrace before Jo pulls back and holds her by the shoulders.     “Stay away from chollas if you don’t want Joplin to turn into a two-year-old who never had a saddle on her back before. And if the horses get nervous and you hear a rattle, get the hell out of Dodge, because there’s a rattlesnake within a few feet from you. Check your–-”     Y/N cuts Jo off, because she has heard this before from either her or Ellen.     “I know, I know. Check my boots for spiders and scorpions before I put them on and keep the tent closed,” she fills in.     “Not just to keep out insects and reptiles, but horny cowboys as well,” Jo adds.     Y/N snorts. “I’ll handle him. I will miss you, though.”     “I’ll miss you, too, sis,” her friend returns, smiling.

    They say goodbye while Dean unties his gelding and gets on swiftly, overlooking the group from the higher point of view.     “Y’all ready?” he asks the company of six.     When the riders cheer, he takes the reins with one hand and pulls it gently towards him, an aid for Ted to backup and move away from the other horses. The excitement rises noticeably, comparable to what one would feel when on an aircraft just before take-off and on its way to a new destination. Some of the animals start to get restless in the thrill, Joplin included. Y/N doesn’t waste any time and pulls the safety knot in order to free the mare, then puts her left foot in the stirrup and pushes herself off the ground with her right, swinging it over the back of the black horse.     “Good luck, y’all,” Bobby wishes the six men and women.     “See you in a couple of days!” Jo calls out.

    Y/N waves at the people staying behind, a bright smile spreading from ear to ear. Looking forward to the adventure that will come next, she straightens herself in the saddle and faces the vast landscape. She might be twenty-four, but she feels more like a seven-year-old going on a field trip. In front of the rider, a pair of alert ears belonging to Joplin point forward. Beyond that view, the promontory of the Superstition Mountains stretches out. The sun has risen from behind the ridges in the East hours ago, already warming up the valley with its strong rays.

    Dean watches the young woman, consumed by a different kind of scenery as his horse follows the path. In the past few weeks, she has grown more comfortable in her role as a wrangler and a ranch hand. The daily routine is starting to become her second nature and the people she works with are her friends now. He wouldn’t have guessed it at first - and he’s quite sure she herself wouldn’t have guessed it either - but she fits in perfectly. The rich girl from upstate with a master’s degree under her belt feels at home surrounded by a bunch of country folks in the dry desert lands of the south west. Who would have thought that? Dean smiles, content; something tells him that this trip will help her blossom even more.

    She could almost hear a harmonica play the theme from Once Upon A Time In The West, and she’s still waiting for tumbleweed to roll across the path. Cacti reach for the sun, their arms outstretching upward, like the giants are growing actual limbs. It’s a nice variation to the evergreens that she is used to, back in Maine. The rain that came down two weeks ago has laid a blanket of green over the dry lands; it’s amazing how nature can change in a matter of days. Jo warned her about the sun, and with good reason. Over the last month, the intern slowly but surely got used to the extreme weather circumstances that Arizona offers, but she has never been on a horse during the hottest hours of the day. It might already be late September, but the heat is blistering. She could use a shower right about now, and just the thought of not being able to take one for the next couple of days grosses her out. The temperatures weigh on the female rider, more than she thought it would, but her partner Joplin doesn’t seem to mind much. Her neck and shoulders are sweaty, but she still dribbles impatiently every now and then, eager to cover more ground.

    Dean leads the group, guiding them from spring to spring. The group left the Hieroglyphic Trail about three hours ago, which ended at a small creek and a poor excuse for a waterfall. They took a break there and had a few of Ellen’s delicious pecan tassies while the horses drank. Now, they are well on their way to Willow Spring, but the trail isn’t getting any easier. As they conquer the steep slopes, the pace slows down. Y/N is amazed at how the horses are able to maneuver on the rough terrain, which consists of loose pebbles, slippery boulders, and cracked volcanic rock. One misstep could severely injure the large animals, but they seem to be aware of that. Joplin proceeds agile and fearless, almost like a bobcat, and her rider learns quickly to let her take care of the drops and jumps. She doesn’t need guidance, the mare knows the way. All Y/N has to do is sit tight and move along with her to maintain the balance.

    “How y’all doing back there?” Dean is looking over his shoulder, his free hand resting on the cantle of the saddle.     “We’re good!” one of the tourists assures.     His name is Brad, the young guy riding next to his sister Macy and their buddy Jonathan. The head wrangler chatted a little bit with the three members of the group and they turn out to be good company. The trio is traveling across the country, enjoying a gap year from college. With Brad and Macy’s father being a rancher in Colorado, they know their way around horses. Jonathan is a little less experienced in the saddle, but he’s managing just fine. No doubt about it, though, that he’s going to be left with a serious muscle ache in the coming days.         The leader of the pack shifts his eyes from them to his intern, asking her the same question silently. She nods, smiling reassuringly at her handsome supervisor, telling him in the same language that she’s doing fine. Content, Dean smiles back and winks at her before he straightens himself.     It’s a good thing he’s not facing her anymore, because Y/N is sure that about a hundred butterflies hatched from their cocoons in her stomach, the feeling triggering her to take a shuddering breath. She huffs, annoyed with the response he triggered. Just look at him. He’s infuriatinglygorgeous, looking way too good on his horse, in those darn chaps, wearing that darn western hat. A part of her wants to dislike him, just for being so distracting. But she can’t be mad at him, not really. Just a glance her way with that grin and she’s a complete goner. Y/N watches as the cowboy catches up with Benny, slowing his horse down when they are side by side.

    “Tell me, Chief, how are things between you and the intern goin’?” the Southerner wonders, making sure the woman in question is unable to pick up on the conversation.     Dean looks aside at his best friend, amused by his curiosity. “It’s not going anywhere, really. Things are good as they are,” he claims.     “Oh, c’mon, now. Did she turn you down again?” Benny guesses.     Dean eyes him. “She didn’t turn me down. I just didn’t make my move.”     The wrangler next to him seems to need a second to process the information. Dean Winchester didn’t make a move on a girl he likes in 0.2 seconds? That’s a new one. “Wait a minute. So you two haven’t even…?”     “We’re just friends, Benny,” Dean claims, aware how terribly unconvincing it sounds the moment he pronounces the words.     “Horse shit. You didn’t pass up Casey to be ‘just friends’ with the gal. You called dibs,” he reminds the head wrangler. “Besides, I see the way you look at her. You don’t look at a pal like that.”

    Dean shakes his head, remembering the arrangement well. It’s not like he can deny he made that deal with the farrier, despite that it felt wrong to do so. But back then when he claimed her in order to keep his notorious friend away, he was still clueless about the affection he felt for her. The affection that steadily grew stronger to the point where he cares more about what’s best for the free young woman than what he wants for himself.     “So what, Benny?” He shrugs, hoping his friend would let it go.     “So what? I know it’s a little dusty here in the desert, but did you get sand in your eyes?” Benny returns, perplexed.     “Look, I know she’s awesome, and yes, I wouldn’t mind hooking up with her, but I can’t, okay?” Dean claims.     Unable to understand the math behind his choice, the broad-shouldered ranch hand throws him a look that somewhere between dirty and confused. “Why not?”     “Well for starters, Bobby will kill me if he finds out, since he took me aside to specifically forbid me to pull anything. Secondly, she’ll only stay for six months--”     Benny interrupts him, however. “Invalid, Chief. Bobby told you before to quit bouncing around with clients and staff and it never stopped you then. And since when is six months too short for you? You usually get bored with your lady friends after a--”     The cowboy from the South stops mid-sentence and Dean can almost hear it click in his mind. Oh, boy. Benny has figured it out. Even though he tried to make up excuses in order to avoid being confronted by his best bud, there’s no way of dodging that bullet now.     “Well, fuck a goat and call her Nancy! You’re in love with her,” Benny announces, shocked.     Dean raises his eyebrows at the rider next to him, then scoffs and looks away, trying to act like the very idea is ridiculous. “That’s - that’s just… Y-you’re insane,” he stutters, unable to flat out deny it.     Benny starts to laugh out loud, apparently very much amused with his discovery. “I can’t believe you walked straight into that love trap!”     “Would you keep your voice down?” the rider next to him hushes.     The farrier looks over the back of his horse at the intern, but she’s about thirty yards behind them talking to Macy, clueless what the two wranglers leading the group are discussing.     Dean stays quiet for a few long seconds, trying to decide if he is ready to admit that she means so much to him. “She’s a nice girl, Benny. I don’t wanna hurt her,” he claims.     “Oh, c’mon now! You’re seriously telling me you grew a conscience all of a sudden? You used to love ‘em and leave ‘em without a second thought.” Benny has crossed his wrists over the horn of his saddle, the reins loosely between his fingers, as he looks aside to catch anything that would indicate what’s going on in his best mate’s head. It’s clear that he’s astonished by the shift in his demeanor.     “I’m gonna ignore the urge to ask you who you are and where my friend is,” the Southerner chuckles. “But is it really just her heart you’re scared to break?”     Dean ponders, trying to make sense of the odds and ends that scatter his thoughts. Benny is not entirely wrong. It terrifies the wrangler to give in to these emotions. Is that maybe the true reason why he didn’t kiss Y/N that night under the Joshua tree? Or when she came looking for him after he had that argument with Ash? Maybe it’s a bit of both.     “How long have we known each other? Fourteen, fifteen years now?” Dean recalls.     “Give or take,” Benny confirms, looking down at the trail as he moves his hand over the mane of his horse in order to steer it a little wider around a boulder.     “Do I seem like the kinda guy who does that? Fall for a girl? I liked the way things were, no attachments and all that,” the head wrangler continues, confused.     “That’s the thing about falling in love, Chief. It happens to the best of us and always at a time when you least expect it. It hits you like lightning and you’re toast before you even got a clue why you’re feelin’ so crispy,” Benny says wisely.

    The head wrangler glances at his companion sideways, reading into his words. It almost sounds like the Southerner knows what he’s talking about.     “You’ve been there,” he realizes.     “Oh, I’ve been there. I’ve been beyond falling in love, I loved her with my whole damn heart,” Benny acknowledges, smiling at the memory. “Her name was Andrea. We were both eighteen. She spent the summer with relatives in Louisiana and I was a lost cause from the moment I laid eyes on her. A Greek Goddess, and I ain’t exaggeratin’. She was pretty as a peach! Kind, funny as hell, too.”     “Since she’s ain’t here, I reckon it didn’t end well?” Dean assumes again.     “It didn’t; she went back to Greece and I moved here because everything reminded me of her at home,” his friend tells him.     “You know you just proved my point, right?” the head wrangler says, a hint of triumph in his voice trying to mask the sadness in his eyes. “If love always comes to bite you in the ass, why even bother?”     “‘Cause the heartache ain’t the clue, brother. What I had with Andrea was so good, so pure, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Even if I knew what I know now, how it would end, I would take that plunge again without a doubt in my mind.”     Dean huffs, unable to believe that. “Despite that she left you?”     “Fuck, yeah,” Benny states. “Better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.”

    Dean is quiet now. The path narrows and he holds Ted back a little, merging behind Benny’s horse. As he lets his friend’s words sink in, he glances down the slope at the intern again. She’s several yards down the steep hill, focused on Joplin as she rides her up the trail. Her braided hair already has strands peeking out from under her hat, and he is sure if she had a mirror she would fix the mess, but he loves it. He loves it when the wind rustles her locks, or when the desert dust smudges her skin. Once again that feeling overcomes him, the feeling of a lantern being lit in the pit of his stomach, warming his body as it slowly rises through his core to his chest, where the heat lingers. It feels so good, but there’s a catch to the sensation. It comes with the emotion that creeps up on him when he lays awake at night thinking about Y/N; fear. The fear of her leaving him after her internship. The fear of her reaction if he would let her witness the scar tissue that lays thick on his soul. The fear that this love will consume him, just like the love for Mom consumed his father. The fear of failing her. But now that the true meaning of Benny’s message dawns on him, another kind surfaces. It’s a thought that he hasn’t had before, and as it pops into his head, the question reverberates louder through his mind than all the others. What if he misses his chance? What if there are only so many opportunities to win her over?

    He straightens himself before she looks ahead and spots him staring, and he closes his eyes and tips his hat forward. Shit, you’ve been so worried about losing her that you forgot that in order to lose her, you have to have her first, he thinks to himself. A sigh slips from his dry mouth, reminding him how thirsty he is. He reaches for his water bottle from his saddlebag, pulls out the cap with his teeth and gulps down the water, knocking his head back as he takes a few swigs. Nope, he’s not dehydrated. In fact, he’s still having these contradicting thoughts. When he slips the bottle back where he took it from, his eyes wander down the path again, this time looking straight into hers. As he tries to decide on his next move, he holds her gaze as she smiles up at him. Dean wasted two shots already; what if it’s three strikes, you’re out? If he fucks this up, at least he tried, but if he won’t give this a try at all, he’ll beat himself up over it for the rest of his life. Either way, failure seems to be inevitable.

    Then he remembers something. Something that he was taught at a very young age. He had just turned four when he took a fall off the neighbor’s Shetland pony. It was the first time he had rode alone without his mom holding the miniature horse and the naughty pony took advantage of that situation. The Shetland picked up speed and bucked once, sending him straight into the dirt. After making sure that her son was okay, he recalls his mom picking him up.     “You wanna give it another go?” she asked.     “No…” he said.     “So that’s it? You never wanna ride again?” she questioned again, her voice gentle.     Now he was quiet, not sure how to answer that. “I don’t wanna fall off,” he mumbled eventually, looking down at the ground.     “Falling is a part of riding, sweety. It’s a part of life. It’s okay to fall,” she told him.     “But it hurts,” he said, rubbing his scraped elbow. “And it’s scary.”     “Yeah, sometimes falling can be very scary,” Mom acknowledged. “But you won’t get any better if you stop trying. You have to face what you’re scared of, to grow. You know what they say about falling?”     He shook his little head, waiting for the elaboration patiently.     “You have to fall off seven times before you'll become a good rider,” she says.     “Seven?!” he repeats, eyes wide.     “Seven,” Mom pointed out. “But you know how he becomes a great horseman?”     Dean shook his head again and listened eagerly. All that he wanted was to become a horseman, so this was the time to pay attention.     “A good rider becomes a great horseman when he falls seven times and gets up eight.”

    The wise words always stuck with Dean as he grew older. He remembers when he was twelve and got back to his feet after his seventh crash landing, this time from a young bronc. He was a horseman now, because he got up beaming, and brushed the dirt from his jeans. Every time when life beat him down, he did the same. Sadly, Mom wasn’t there to see her son become a horseman. She was long gone by the time he reached that age, but her life lessons will never be forgotten. Life is filled with setbacks. No one walks this journey without encountering them. For some that one setback is enough reason to give up and never become good at anything, for others, it’s a way to push through. And yes, getting up and trying again is not easy. But Mom taught him to look fear in the eye and get back in the saddle anyway, because quitting will definitely not get him anywhere. Whenever he hit the ground, literally or metaphorically, he would think of that memory. Now is no different. Mom was right; he has to face what scares him in order to grow.

    Dean slows down his horse, pulling the bit just enough to stop Ted, giving the horse behind him a chance to catch up. When Joplin comes alongside, he glances at the rider from under his Stetson.     “Hello, Cowboy,” she greets, a small but delighted smile on her lips.     Dean chuckles at that, his eyes not leaving hers.     “Hey, beautiful,” he returns.     The compliment brightens her eyes even more and heats up her cheeks. The trail barely allows the two of them to ride side by side, their stirrups touching occasionally. He aches for her knee to brush his like he would crave rain after a long desert ride. When the denim of her jeans does rub against him, it leaves him electrified. And then he realizes that Benny is right, too. It is better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part eleven here

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part eight) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: 5550 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part eight: It’s one of those days for Dean where everything that can go wrong, goes wrong. After one hell of a day, Bobby has to break the news to Ash, who doesn’t take the lay off well. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: About Today - The National (final scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

     7.30 AM, Monday morning. Several hundred hooves tremble the ground. Earthy colored dust has turned into dark mud overnight as the heavens unleashed a rainstorm that still hasn't stopped from raging down. The cattle moos anxiously, trying to stick together as a herd. Bobby’s dog, Rumsfeld, barks over the sound of it all, his enthusiastic calls trumped by the shouts and whistles of the wranglers.       "Yah!” Dean shouts, cutting off young stock that threatens to fan out.

     Droplets as big as marbles fall from the grey sky, the water caught in the brim of his hat pouring from it whenever he tips it down. It’s unusually cold this morning without sunshine to burn the night away. The long, leather coat he’s wearing protects him from that, but the rain started coming through the seams on his shoulders and elbows two hours ago and a steady drip down his neck has drenched his shirt already. Dean has been in the saddle since four o'clock, ever since the thunder woke him up and an eerie gut feeling began to unsettle him. Something was wrong, he felt it in his bones. As he stepped out onto the porch, he immediately noticed the distressed young stock on the wrong side of the fence. Apparently, the cattle panicked in the thunderstorm, took down a gate, and escaped the pen, splitting the herd in two. They were absolutely all over the place, roaming over more than forty acres. With a buyer coming in at 9 AM, he had to gather the two hundred cows and bulls fast, if he wanted to avoid a financial disaster.      So here they are; wet through, tired and miserable, trying to maneuver their horses on the slick surface. A perfect start for this dreadful Monday.

     A sharp whistle reverberates through the valley, requiring his attention. It's Bobby, looking over the mayhem from a small hill, calling his horse to a stand. “Dean, stragglers!”      His head wrangler notices three steers swaying away from the herd. Dean turns from the tail of the group and pushes his horse forward, but immediately senses the loss of grip in the slippery mud. Led’s hind legs skid from under his body, forcing the buckskin to the ground. As the horse's knees buckle, the experienced rider decides in a split second not to leave the sinking ship. Instead, he skillfully sticks to the saddle like he’s glued to the leather, and moves his weight to level out the balance. At the same time, he pulls Led’s nose from the ground and gives enough free rein right after, simultaneously pushing his heels into the horse’s flanks, encourages him to give it his everything to get back on his feet. His quick thinking enables the stallion to break the fall and thankfully; Led steadies himself. Dean breathes out; that was way too close.      “Well done, bud,” the rider soothes, ruffling the Quarter’s mane, glad that he was able to prevent a possibly painful crash.      “Hell of a save,” Benny comments from several yards away. “You alright?”      “I'm good,” Dean assures his best friend. “We need to round them up fast before this whole pasture turns into a mudslide.”      He pushes Led forward, who picks up speed carefully, smart enough to not make the same mistake twice. It takes a while to make up for the lost time, but then he wings the three bulls, guiding them back to the group. Slowly but surely, the wranglers manage to maneuver the large number of animals back into another secured pen. It’s past eight o’clock when Jo closes the last gate and they can all take a breather. Too bad they cannot head back to bed just yet, the day has only just begun.      “Next time you wake me up in the middle of the night, make sure it’s because there’s some hot gal waiting for me on my doorstep,” Ash mocks as he slows his horse down.      Dean looks aside, grinning at the guy that’s in charge of the cattle. “You have enough problems controlling your cows, let alone women, Ash.”      Benny laughs at that, so does Jo. He’s sure Bobby would have laughed at it too, if it wasn't for the troubling decision that has been made. The ranch owner rests his hand on the horn, taking in his dream team as the rain finally stops falling. Today is the day that he will sell over three-fourths of his cattle. Decades of blood, sweat and tears, sold for a dime. Damage control, they call that. It ain't pretty, but it’s necessary to prevent this place from drowning. What else is necessary is cutting down on personnel. Collateral damage is the term, Bobby believes. There’s that word again: damage.      “Is Rufus still dropping by at nine?” Dean, who held up his horse to ride next to his uncle, checks with him.      “Yeah, but you know Rufus. Could be eleven just as well,” Bobby mutters, aware of his old friend’s carelessness.      “Better ask Ellen to break out the Johnny Walker Blue if you're aiming for a good price,” his right hand suggests, before he halts at the tack up area.      The sound of horseshoes splashing on the wet surface draws Y/N’s attention. She parks her broom against the stable wall and peeks around the corner, spotting the wranglers under the Yucca tree, which seems to cry silently as tears of rain drip down from its branches.      “Garth! They're here!” she shouts at the stable boy on the other side of the barn.      The slender guy pops his head out of a stall, then walks out and closes the door behind him. Like the wranglers, he and the intern got up at four in the morning as well. During the weekend the stables aren't mucked out, which adds to the work on Monday, and with Bobby, Jo and Dean handling the breakout, the two of them had to feed and turn out the animals as well. Getting up early was the only way to get all the work done without falling behind.       As the dark rain clouds pass, everyone on the square gets off their horses. Y/N walks up to Bobby, sensing the low morale. No wonder, because all five wranglers are soaked, probably sore and tired too.      “I got him.” She takes over his chestnut named Seger. “Ellen has breakfast ready for you.”     “Thank you, Darlin’,” the old man mumbles, stiffly making his way to the cafeteria.      While tying up Seger, Y/N watches the ranch owner hobble off, wondering why he seems so burdened. When she glances back to loosen the horse’s cinch, a handsome cowboy catches her eye on the other side of the chestnut. Dean takes off Led’s bridle, the last waterdrops rolling from the dip of his hat. Mud splatters have sprayed across his leather overcoat, his boots covered in dirt. There are smudges on his face, along with a weekend stubble still on his strong jaw. The knuckles of his firm hands have a blue shade, so do his lips; he must be so cold after four hours in the pouring rain. With sympathy, she looks at him.        “Hell of a morning, huh?” she comments, trying to make small talk.      Dean looks up and pauses his action. He seems a little surprised by her voice, as if only just now he realized she was behind the horse next to him. The line parting his lips breaks in a small smile. It’s the first time he hears her use a word as such. His language is terrible, he throws in a variation of the words ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ wherever it fits. But Y/N on the other hand, coming from upstate, says ‘gosh’ at most, and uses terms such as ‘for heaven’s sake’, which he finds quite cute. Apparently she’s adapting to her company.       The wrangler scoffs. “You can say that again.”      He unbuckles the cinch and removes the saddle from Led’s back. The mud sticking to the saddle pad is hard to miss and it catches the intern’s eye. Led must have hit the ground at some point, how else would the animal have dirt caked thick in his coat on his entire side?      “Did you fall?” she asks.      Dean chuckles, slightly amused, while he puts the heavy saddle on the bar his horse is tied to as well. He heard that, the worry in her voice.      “Led slipped, but he was able to steady himself,” he reassures.      The cowboy returns his focus to the buckskin next to him as he turns the faucet of the water source. Led might be wet through just like his rider, but he’s covered in filth as well, and that's no way to bring a horse back to his stable. He quickly hoses down his Quarter, while Y/N washes Seger’s feet. When she’s done, she follows Benny and Jo as they return their horses to the stable. Coming back to pick up the saddle, Y/N finds her supervisor crouched down next to Led’s left front leg.      “Shit…” he curses, feeling the cannon bone.      The saddle is left on the bar. Instead, Y/N comes to see what Dean is annoyed with. With just one glance she can determine the swelling on the back of the leg, a little above the fetlock joint.      “Tendon?” she assumes, petting the horse on the shoulder.      Dean carefully feels the tissue, causing Led to flinch. It’s painful, but with all the fluid that is building up around the injury, it’s hard to tell what exactly is causing the reaction.       “Could be. He seemed sound after he tripped,” the wrangler contemplates. “Can you jog him?”      “Sure,” she replies, after which she unties the horse.      Y/N leads the beautiful Quarter in a straight line and starts to run after a few yards. With the first stride it’s already clear that Led is anything but even. Only the  click-clack  sound of Led’s shoes on the surface is enough to state the obvious.       “Well, that ain't good,” Dean sighs as Y/N walks the palomino back.      “You didn't feel him at all?” she checks with the wrangler.      “The poor bastard must have worked through the pain. He’s a tough horse,” Dean ponders, running his hand down Led’s face with sympathy. “I'll cool his leg for a while. Can you get a rug for him?”      “What about you?”       He shrugs selflessly. “I’ll skip breakfast.”      “You’re not skipping breakfast. You've been working nonstop since four AM, you deserve a break,” Y/N decides, strong-minded. “I have cooling leg boots which Led can wear while he's stabled. It works better than cooling with water.”      “Alright then.” He smiles, appreciating her firm response.      He takes over his horse and leads Led back to the barn without hasting him. Silently, Dean turns the Quarter in as his intern walks to the tack room to get the leg wrap and a rug, followed by a stop at the cafeteria to pick up two cool packs from the freezer. On her way over, she notices the handsome wrangler staring at nothing in particular, lost in thoughts. His fingers absently rub Led’s withers, who on his turn bends his neck and seeks the cowboy’s free hand, nuzzling his nose against his skin, as if he is trying to comfort his rider in return. Although it’s a heartwarming sight to see the man having a moment with the beautiful animal, Y/N can sense something is off about him. Not that she knows him all that well, but she can tell that he’s carrying a crippling weight. He’s quiet, for one. No smart answers or perky remarks that could easily be mistaken for flirting. There is also something about his eyes, something weary.       “Here you go,” she says, handing over the boot.      Dean takes it and straps around the injured leg, while Y/N lays a fleece rug on Led’s back to prevent the horse from cooling down too fast. When the wrangler rises to his feet and lets his fingers glide through Led’s golden coat while waiting for her to secure the rug, the silence is awfully evident.        “Are you okay?” she asks carefully.      Dean glances up, caught off guard by the question. For a moment he reckons she’s asking because of the almost crash and now Led’s injury, but when his eyes meet hers, he sees that the question is more layered than that. His first instinct is to throw her a cocky comment, that a little mud isn't ever going to bring him down, but he decides against it. He’s not sure if his hesitation is caused by her ability to read between the lines, but the young man suddenly feels vulnerable, intimidated even.      “Yeah, I'm fine,” he says. “Let’s eat. Don't know about you, but I'm starving.”     She fakes a smile. Of course, she could eat after a morning like today, but she was hoping Dean would take the opportunity to get it off his chest.       A pleasant heat and the smell of bacon and toast welcome them like it does every working day, when Y/N pushes open the door to the cozy personnel hangout. Ellen’s breakfast is always something to look forward to, but today it’s a true gift from heaven. The rest of the crew sits down after having changed into dry clothes and wait impatiently for their bacon and eggs, as Bobby finishes his plate first. When the door creaks, Ellen looks up from behind the stove.      “Oh honey, look at you,” she says when Dean follows you inside. “Did you drown out there? You're soaked through.”      Her nephew hangs his dripping coat and Sheplers on the hat rack above the heater and is welcomed by his aunt with a clean towel, a warm flannel and a pair of jeans      “Why don't you freshen up first and put on some dry clothes. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold,” she insists.      “Thanks, Ellen.” Dean takes the neatly folded pile from her arms after which he places a short, genuine kiss on her hair and moves to the backroom to change.      Y/N can't help but smile when she sits down, delighted to witness the wrangler’s soft side for the second time today. The warmth spreads through her like the hot coffee that she swallows down and settles in the pit of her stomach. She folds her fingers around the mug as she takes another sip, peering over the edge at the man she is losing her heart to as he closes the door behind him. A kick against the shin awakens her from a trance, the action causing her to almost choke on her coffee. Jo sits across the table, her deadly glare demanding to get it together. Flustered and caught, Y/N averts her gaze at the plate that Ellen just set down under her nose.       “Dig in while it’s still warm, sweety,” she insists, oblivious of how the intern feels about her nephew.      Y/N does so, partly as an excuse to not look Jo in the eye and be confronted with her judgment. But when Dean enters the room again, cleaned up and wearing a comfortable red plaid flannel, she just has to take him in for a second. Before Jo can kick her leg again, someone knocks on the glass window from outside the cafeteria. Everyone looks up at the doorway when an old friend of Bobby’s appears.      “Well, I'll be damned,” Ellen says, delighted. “If it ain't Rufus Turner.”      The African American with a pearl white smile and a rascal look in his eyes enters the cafeteria.      “Ellen Singer, you haven't changed a bit.” Rufus takes his hat off for her, but then he turns to face her husband at the head of the table. “But you on the other hand,” he pats Bobby on the back, “- you got old.”      The joke attracts a laugh from the others.      “Good to see you too, Rufus,” the ranch owner responds.      “Grab a plate and dig in. There’s plenty,” Ellen offers.      “I’d love to, but if you don't mind, I wanna get down to business. I've got places to be later.” He puts his hat back on and turns to the rest of the company. “Mind if I steal him for a bit?”      “By all means, steal away.” Ellen smiles politely.      Bobby gets up and excuses himself. When he has left the room, the workers finish their breakfast. Nobody says anything, and although Y/N doesn't understand what has caused the grim mood, she keeps her mouth shut. Instead, she takes in the people surrounding her. Jo, Ellen, and Dean seem to ignore the elephant in the room, while Garth, Benny and Ash exchange puzzled looks. Rufus’s visit to the ranch has stirred things up. Who is he? A business partner? A trader, maybe?           When the break is over and the crew gets back to work, the air is more suffocating than it is on a hot day. It has nothing to do with the weather, though.      “Why is Bobby selling stock?”      It’s Ash who asks as the gang walks down to the paddocks between the stables. The question breaks the silence, but it also adds to the tension. Jo and Dean exchange a look, but both keep quiet, which isn’t sufficient for the worker with the odd haircut.      “That’s why Rufus is here, ain’t it?” Ash pushes, a worry in his tone that seems foreign for the carefree guy.       The head wrangler sighs and turns to his friend.       “Look, business has been slow, y’all know that. Rufus is here to discuss the value of the cattle, to explore our options,” Dean tries to reassure not just him, but the rest of his staff.      When he can read from Ash’s face that his reassurance doesn’t have much effect, he adds a few words he might regret later.  “No need to worry just yet. We’ll figure it out. Now let’s get to work.”      And so everyone does, some left with a few questions, but the leader of the team has managed to take away most of the concern. All this time, the intern hasn’t said a word. The young woman with a master’s degree in business and a nose for bullcrap only observes. She observes Dean, when he glances at his cousin, troubled, right after Ash walks off to fill the hay barn in the main pastures. She observes Jo, who looks at the ground and keeps quiet, as the two of them walk over to the paddocks to turn the horses in. She observes Bobby Singer and Rufus Turner, who are seated on the back porch of the house, accompanied by a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, tied up in a dialogue that seems to be a negotiation more than it is a casual chat. She observes the handshake, the ‘glad to do business with you’ grin on Rufus’s face opposite of the defeat in the ranch owner’s eyes. So much for not needing to worry just yet.

     The early morning rain has cooled down the dusty lands and doesn’t allow the temperature to rise like it did the previous days. Clouds keep rolling in from the east, cutting off the sun. This weather suits Y/N better and she works extra hard now that her body doesn’t seem like it’s overheating. It gives her a good feeling that she is able to take some of the load from the other workers. Dean even allowed her to train two of the horses, since he had a meeting with Bobby. He didn’t return until an hour before supper. After dinner, Benny and Garth head to the shed to fix the tractor, that on top of everything else, started spilling oil. The rest of the crew is about to retreat back to the bunkhouse, when Bobby calls back one of the workers.      “Ash?” he says, his voice matching his serious expression. “Can you come into my office?”      “Sure thing, boss,” he responds, joining the ranch owner.      Dean can read from Ash’s facial expression that he’s uneasy, but doesn’t have a clue what is coming for him. The ranch hand who is in charge of the cattle probably assumes that Bobby is going to update him on the reason why Rufus was here. Shit, he wishes it was just a simple briefing. Poor bastard…      The head wrangler exhales as he walks on, shaking off the cold that hasn’t seemed to leave his body after the rainy morning. Jo follows him silently, kicking the clotty earth with her dragging feet, hands shoved down in the pockets of her denim jacket. Y/N is on his other side, wonderingly looking over at them every now and then. She has kept quiet long enough. So when they step up the stairs to the porch first, she drops the bomb.      “So, Ash is getting sacked, huh?”      Dean has stopped in his tracks and instantly shoots an angry glare at Jo. “You told her?!”      “I didn’t tell her jack shit!” she counters, insulted.       “She didn’t need to, Dean,” Y/N backs her up, having turned around before opening the front door. “Livestock sales have plummeted nationwide, yet Bobby is selling now, so times must be desperate. With no cattle to handle it’s only logical that Ash will be let go in order to cut down on costs. I have a business degree, remember? I can do the math. Here, you guys look like you can use these.”      During her flood of words, she had strolled to the fridge, taken out three beers, and popped the caps off with an opener. Not sure if he should be impressed or feel threatened by the intern’s knowledge, Dean takes the drink and has a swig of the brew. She’s right about more than a few things; he needed a beer.      “Is Bobby breaking it to him now?” she wonders.      Dean glances over at Jo, who leans back against the kitchen sink, nursing her bottle. It’s not something they would usually discuss with interns, but since she already seems to be fully aware of the situation and he trusts that she will keep this between them, he confirms with a nod.      “Damn…” Y/N ponders, biting her lip as her eyes drift away to nothing in particular. “How long has he been here?”      “For about five years now,” Jo thinks back, clearly sad about having to say goodbye to a good friend. “I can remember the day he arrived. He caught Dad’s eye at the Holbrook Rodeo, where he worked in the arena. He couldn’t keep a job long enough to rent himself a roof over his head, mostly because of his looks and his ‘fuck you’ attitude, but he was good with the bulls. That’s when Dad asked him to come work for him and for the first time, Ash found a place where he belonged. He’s been here ever since. Never stayed in one spot this long. Mom and Dad have a habit of taking the misfits under their wings.”      It’s quiet for a few long seconds, as Dean recalls Ash’s early days on the property. Then he goes back further, to the day he himself set foot on these lands, with nowhere else to go. They did exactly the same for him as they did for Ash; offered him a comfortable bed, warm food, a rewarding job. A safe haven where they didn’t have to worry about how to get through tomorrow, where they didn’t have to be scared. One would perhaps expect Bobby and Ellen to take Dean in, him being their nephew. But it didn’t matter that the funny looking bullfighter called Ash wasn’t related. He became family, too.      “How do you think he’s going to take it?”      It’s Y/N who breaks Dean’s train of thought.      He ponders for a moment before he answers. “I dunno. He’s a pretty chill guy these days, but this is so much more than just a job.”      Dean pauses, putting himself in Ash’s shoes for a moment. Who is he fooling? His friend is going to lose it.      “Guess we’re gonna find out in a moment,” Jo says, nodding at the portrait outside.      Y/N glances through the dirty window while Dean holds the bamboo fly curtain aside to step onto the porch. It’s Ash who approaches the bunkhouse, but he doesn’t have the swagger he usually has in his stride. The ranch hand is looking down at the ground, the soil he used to call home. Every muscle in his face tensed, balled fists move alongside him with each step. Dean watches the guy for a brief moment, then descends the stairs to meet with him, but Ash does not want any of it. Instead, his friend walks past him, dismissing the head wrangler.      “Ash. I--”      The words trigger something in the lean guy, because after taking two strides up the steps, he turns around, a pair of piercing eyes startling Dean.      “You knew, didn’t ya?” he questions, his voice heavy with frustration.      Dean needs a moment to recover, staring up at the cattle worker, but Ash doesn’t grant him that time.      “That whole ‘no need to worry, we’ll figure it out.’ It was bullshit and you know it. Hell, I ain’t surprised if you’re the one who decided that it was my ass to fire.”      There isn’t much Dean can say to that, because it’s true. He did know, he knew for a long time, and yes, it was him who told Bobby it had to be the man who’s standing before him right now.       “We…” Dean pauses to correct himself, because Ash is right; this is on him. “I didn’t have a choice.”       “Oh, but you did. Instead of telling me that things were gonna be A-okay, you could’ve told me what was gonna happen. But no, you were too fucking scared to look me in the eye and tell me the Goddamn truth,” the worker says accusingly.  ��   Dean stares back at him, his jaw flexing, but then he looks away as he swallows down the guilt. He knew those words were going to bite him in the ass. When he straightens himself again, Jo has appeared in the doorway, with Y/N right behind her.      “Ash, we’re all sorry it went down as it did, and we wish it didn’t have to be like this--”      “Then why the fuck do I have to leave?!” he shouts at the daughter of the ranch owner, his eyes noticeably shimmering in the lights above the porch.      Jo isn’t impressed with his anger, on the contrary; she replies professionally calmly.       “I hate to see you go. Shit, we all do. But the ranch isn’t going to survive if Dad doesn’t cut costs,” she reminds him. “There’s barely any cattle left to maintain, and you were hired last.”      “Right. The ‘last in, first out’ rule. Then tell me, what the hell is  she  still doing here?”      Suddenly, the newest crewmember is dragged into the argument as Ash nods at Y/N. Her heart skips a beat when it dawns on her what he holds her accountable for; he thinks she stole his job. Shocked, Y/N looks at the man who directed the focus on her. It’s a side of him she didn’t know he had and is overwhelmed by the accusation, causing her mind to fail miserably when trying to form any kind of response. Feeling helpless and exposed, she glances at the other two, desperate for back up. Thankfully, the head wrangler got the message, because seeing Y/N’s expression change from compassionate to fearful, triggers something inside him.       “Y/N’s an intern,” Dean returns, the tone of his voice colder than a moment ago. “Y/N is still here because she doesn’t cost Bobby anything.”      But Ash disagrees. “She’s another mouth to fill, just like every single one of us. She has a horse here who needs a shit ton of feed--”      “- and she works hard for that,” Dean overrules him, staring him down. “Look, man. I know you’re pissed, I get it. But don’t you put this on her, it ain’t her fault.”       “Are you saying I don’t work hard for my pay?!” Ash snaps back angrily.      “I didn’t say that,” Dean rights, gesturing with a lowering hand to calm down. “I’m saying that down the line, Y/N is a free hand.”

     Ash scoffs at that, biting his lips as he looks away and clenches his fists, his knuckles pressed together in order to manage the exasperation. He’s so hurt and upset that he doesn’t even think about the consequences of the words that follow.       “Oh, she’s a free hand, alright,” he states, shooting the guy opposite of him a penetrating glare.       Jo gapes at Ash, mouth falling open, then turns her head to witness Y/N having the exact same reaction. Dean stares at Ash too, first in astonishment, wondering where he got the nerve to insinuate something like that. Within a second, that emotion is pushed aside by brewing anger. The need to defend her honor causes him to step towards Ash intimidatingly, but Jo gets in between before things escalate.      “Whoa, now! Can we just keep it cool and not get nasty?” she demands, having both Dean and Ash at arm’s length.       But Ash, apparently, isn’t done. “You’ve always been a screw around, man, but shit, I did not expect you to stab me in the back just to get in a girl’s pants,” he sneers, pushing Dean’s buttons and seriously applying for a punch in the face.      “This is fucking bullshit, Ash, and you know it!” Dean counters, so worked up over the allegation that his heart is beating out of his chest.       “Okay, that’s it! If you don’t shut your mouth right now I’m gonna pull out that mullet of yours!” Jo warns Ash before she turns to Dean. “And you need to walk it off, right now!”      The ranch owner’s daughter pushes him back gently in order to raise her finger at him sternly. He steps away, offering a little air to the suffocating clash, and so does Ash.      “Don’t bother, I’ll leave.” He scoffs. “That’s whatcha want, ain’t it?”       The cattle worker turns around, the rage slowly seeping from him, leaving the space for sadness and disappointment to fill. Y/N watches the guy, still mind-blown by all the words that were said, but now that a fight is avoided, she can only feel pity. The blame that he put on her and on Dean is only a response to his world crashing down on him. She cannot really condemn him for lashing out. After ten or more steps, the guy in a dirty shirt and a plaid jacket with the sleeves ripped off turns around. Normally everything about the guy is either hazardous or comical, depending on how well you know him, but not now. Not now that his eyes are glistening in pained emotion.     “This wasn’t just work, y’know. This is my life. This is home,” he says, his arms spread in desperation. “I thought that all of us here - that we were in this together. That we don’t turn our back on family.” He pauses, eyes fixed on Jo, then on Dean. He continues with a broken voice. “Y’all did exactly that.”      With those words, he turns away and heads off to his cattle, like he always does after dinner. Silenced, the three watch him leave, until Dean sighs and looks around lost, as if he hopes to find answers in the earth-colored gravel. He doesn’t look at Y/N, he’s doing everything to avoid her questioning, sympathetic gaze. When the air gets too thin to breathe, he walks away in the direction of the barn, off to his horses. The intern allows her eyes to linger on the defeated figure that becomes smaller as he drags his feet down the worn path to the stables, the grey sky above him that darkens by the minute only adding to the grim atmosphere. Instinctively, Y/N reaches for the handrail of the steps down the porch, intending to follow him, but Jo stops her.      “Let him be for a bit.”      Y/N halts and listens to her friend, then lets a breath slip from her dry lips. “So no one wins today, huh?”     “Nope. Not today,” Jo responds, moving through the doorway after throwing a glance at Ash’s silhouette in the far pasture. “Comin’? I have a bottle of something a-hell-of-a-lot-stronger-than-beer stashed somewhere.”       Y/N huffs and turns to join her. Jo pours her some rum in a jar, which she sips on silently as she looks out the window, watching the day end. But the alcohol cannot wash away her thoughts that are with the two ranch workers: the one who lost his friend, and the one who lost everything else as well.

Told you guys there was gonna be angst? Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part nine here

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part six) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±1900 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part six: Y/N is getting lost in the feelings that she’s developing for Dean, and it doesn’t take long before Jo takes notice. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Okay, maybe the tequila last night wasn’t such a good idea. Neither was that margarita the previous night, or the drinking game the night before that one. Or was it the other way around? Y/N cannot seem to recall, but today is Friday, so at least tomorrow she can sleep her way through the headache. Never ever did she drink as much as she did this week. Normally that would bother her, especially considering she’s not here on Spring break. But when the drinks are offered in a time when she needs a little something to stop thinking about that damned Dean Winchester, she couldn't care less about the increase of alcohol consumption.

     She found the balance quite quickly, too. Intoxicated enough to let go of the complexity that comes with growing fondness of the head wrangler, but sober enough to stop herself from doing anything stupid. The consequence is, however, that on this morning ride, her brain feels like it’s trying to expand beyond the size of her head. Thank God her stomach isn't acting up, because Joplin is trotting under her nervously. Seems like Y/N is having trouble finding the ‘walk’ button this early. The hot-blooded mare fails to respond when her rider asks her to slow down by saying ‘ho’ with a calm voice, but when Y/N breathes out, relaxes her legs, and shifts deeper in the saddle only by a fraction of an inch, the black horse transitions to walk.

     “Good girl,” Y/N compliments her.

     Three days without riding were more than she could handle. Meadow needed some time to recover from the long journey and to get used to her new home, but Y/N needed to restrain herself from climbing on the mare’s back anyway. She imagined this was a glimpse of what it would be like to kick an addiction cold turkey, going into withdrawal from the lack of her drug. As if not being able to train her own horse wasn't enough, it took another extra day before Y/N got onto any horse at all. It wasn't until yesterday morning that the supervisor decided that she deserved a shot at proving herself as a wrangler. She had to earn that by mucking, shit scooping, cleaning tack, and turning horses in and out. Which she gets, of course. Dean and Bobby wanted to see what she is made of before they let her ride one of their animals. But boy, was she frustrated. She even got to the point that Garth almost caught her muttering a promise to herself that if she had to clean up some horse’s massive dump one more time without a reward, she would be out of here.

     Yesterday she finally got to accompany a few guests on a trail. It was amazing to feel the horse move under the saddle again, the experience of the communication that she established within a second, and how the perfect fit on his back felt like home. Apparently, she did well, because on this morning ride, she is allowed to come along too.

     Content, she looks ahead at the large group of inexperienced riders, who find their way down the hill with some difficulty. The respect Y/N holds for the trail horses has grown, because their patience and ability to keep their clumsy passengers in the saddle hasn't ceased to amaze her. Bruce, a draft horse mix, has halted several times already, waiting motionless until his overweight German load has pulled himself back into the saddle after slowly tipping to one side. It's quite entertaining to watch.

     As she smiles at what’s playing out in front of her, the sound of hoofsteps close by on the rocky surface reaches her hearing. When she glances over her shoulder, a beautiful buckskin is just about to transition to an easy walk after catching up. Her eyes glide up until they meet his rider.

     “So, how are you this morning?” Dean wonders, a playful smile on his face.      It takes a short moment for her to answer, taken aback by her body’s response to the sight of the wrangler. A whirlwind starts to twist in her stomach, yet the headache suddenly doesn't seem as tormenting as it was a minute ago.      “I'm okay,” she claims.      He grins. “Sure about that? You had quite a few drinks last night.”      “I can handle myself,” she returns defensively, narrowing her eyes at him a little.      “Oh, I’m sure you can.”

     He chuckles, the warm and low sound rumbling deep in his throat triggering Y/N to peek at him from the corner of her eye. Was that a nervousness she detected? Did she just make him uneasy? He looks down, his lips drawn in a small smile. The sun from the east outlines the sharp lines of his jaw, edged by a scruff; apparently he didn't take the time to shave this morning. Boy, is she glad he didn’t.

     “Okay, I'll admit,” she says, trying to take away his insecurities. “My stomach might be a little… unsettled.”      Y/N isn’t lying, although alcohol has nothing to do with the butterflies that came to life inside of her. He doesn't know that, thankfully, yet he keeps a hold of his intern’s gaze for a little while longer, reading her. As if Dean’s horse wants to help love a little, the Quarter sways closer to her horse Joplin, the two of them now riding stirrup to stirrup. His knee slightly brushes against hers every other step and despite that it's barely a touch, she’s highly aware of the physical contact.

     “Don't throw up on your horse if you want to leave a good impression with me. Believe me, it ain't pretty,” Dean half jokes, half flirts.      She throws her head back in a laugh. “Don't worry, I won't. But please don't tell me you have seen that happen.”      “More than once, I'm afraid,” he remembers, turning in his saddle to face his younger cousin. “Ey, Jo?”      The blonde cowgirl, who is about thirty yards behind them, throws him a confused look, since she hasn't picked up a word of their conversation. Puzzled, she watches, inducing the riders further up to laughter.      “No way!” Y/N cries out.      “I ain’t kiddin’,” Dean sniggers. “I'll save that story for another time. Y’know, when your stomach isn't ‘unsettled’ by the same tequila that started Jo’s tale.”

     He spurs his horse, who canters forward to meet the group of guests up ahead. She observes Dean as the morning sun portrays the cowboy and his horse in a romantic light. Out here, away from the city, the Arizona landscape would have anyone believe that they traveled back to the time, when the Wild West was still the real deal. Cacti surround them, peculiar mountain peaks shaped by ten thousand years of wind erosion obstruct the far edge of the world. And in this perfect portrait rides a handsome cowboy, one with his horse, clouds of dust in their wake. An amused smile allows a glimpse of Y/N’s true feelings to shine through. There it is again, that tingly sensation in her belly. Sure, Dean. Blame it on the tequila, she thinks to yourself.

     “What the hell was that?”      Now that Dean left his spot next to her, Jo has caught up, gently pulling the reins as she sits back to bring her horse’s pace down.      Feeling caught, Y/N looks at her, brought off balance by the spite in the cowgirl’s voice. “What do you mean?”      “Oh, c’mon, Yankee. I wasn’t born yesterday, and neither were you. You just completed your master in business, don't act like you're stupid,” Jo counters. “You and Dean, what’s going on?”      The cowgirl eyes her in shock, her jaw dropping unpleasantly surprised. Was it really that obvious? How is she going to talk herself out of this one?      “I - I don't--” she stutters, blood rushing to her face. “There - there's nothing--”      She’s not sure if it’s her shameful expression or the fact that she lost her tongue, but Jo knows enough. She closes her eyes and sighs deeply.      “Y/N…” her friend starts, a mixture of disappointment and pity present in her voice. “Please don't go down that road. He will hurt you so bad you're gonna wish you never gone on that flight that got you here.”      Now the intern sighs too. Denying will not do her any good. Jo is smart enough to see right through it.      “Listen, I really like having you around. You're good company, you're a hard worker, you're great with the horses, and I don’t wanna lose my sis,” the ranch owner’s daughter says genuinely. “I would hate to see you leave because of my heartbreaker of a cousin. I've seen this play out so many times already, don't walk into that trap.”      “I think that ship has sailed,” her friend admits out loud.

     The words startle the woman who speaks them just as much as they stun Jo; she didn't intend to share that with her new friend already. But now that the comment is hovering between them without a way to take it back, a part of her is glad it’s out there. Dean has been about the only thing on her mind since she first saw him. Not being able to talk about that with anyone was driving her mad. She needs to vent to someone, someone she can trust.

     Shocked by the bombshell that Y/N just dropped, Jo turns her head to orient her big eyes towards the man in question. That son of a bitch..      “Well, that didn't take long…” The cowgirl shakes her head, then looks her in the eye after her confession. It's clear she feels sorry for her friend. “I'll talk to him.”      “No! Jo, please don't. Look, I didn't forget about your warning and I’m surely not going to act on these... feelings,” she guarantees, barely able to get out the word. “But I can't shut this off. It caught me by surprise as well.”      “He tends to have that effect on women,” Jo mutters.      “I won't do anything stupid,” Y/N assures her.      Jo glances at the intern from under her hat. “Promise?”

     She looks backs at her new friend. Honestly, she isn’t sure if she’s strong enough to resist Dean, but this agreement might help her stick to the plan. The plan to complete her internship successfully and return home to start her own ranch. It's all she ever wanted, it has been her life goal for as long as she can remember. Is she really going to let some cowboy stop her from fulfilling that dream? A very handsome, sweet, and utterly irresistible cowboy, but nonetheless. She will reach for the stars and she will have her wish, nothing will stand in her way, not even him. And so a reassuring smile forms on her lips.

     “I promise.”

Well, the cat’s out of the bag. Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part seven here

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part five) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±4500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part five: Y/N successfully completes her first day as a ranch hand and it’s enough reason for bunkhouse celebration. But the evening, filled with drinks and music, sparks more than Y/N bargained for. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Stairway To Heaven (acoustic guitar solo) - Daisuke Minamizawa, ‘Simple Man’ - Jensen Ackles, Jason Manns. Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me Playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     6.40 PM: Y/N’s exhausting first day at Gold Canyon Ranch is over. She didn't expect the time to fly by as it did. But turning out the horses, sweeping the floors, and cleaning the tack actually offered a soothing satisfaction. It was a nice variation to pitching business plans and writing a thesis, which basically has been the only thing she worked on for the past eight months. The tasks here were simple, therapeutic almost. That she didn't get to ride a single horse yet doesn't even bother her. What does, is the fact that she is drenched in sweat and covered in dust and horsehair. She can feel dirt tickle in her cleavage and under her bra, in her socks, and beneath the denim of her jeans. Somehow the particles got absolutely everywhere, mixing with the layer of moisture that covers her entire body.

     Dean locks up the tack room, which Y/N sorted out, while Jo took a group of twelve guests on a mountain hack. Impressed, he glances through the glass four-squared window, before he turns to her. The intern asked to organize the tack herself, after noticing the messy storage place. To Garth’s delight, he didn't even have to assign her that job.      “Good work. I don't think it has ever been this neat,” the head wrangler compliments.      Y/N smiles at that, raking her fingers through her dirty hair; it feels like she hasn't washed it in a week.      “Thanks,” she replies, happy that her work is being appreciated.

     The two of them stroll outside to the square behind the stables, where Benny and Ash are already waiting after they secured all the gaits. Jo joins too and sits down on the edge of a trough that holds fresh water for the thirsty four-legged workers when they come back from rides. While the five wait for Garth to finish up refilling the feed cart, Benny and Ash have a smoke. Y/N joins the ranch owner’s daughter and settles down in the spot she saved. Tired, she sighs louder than she wanted to be audible.      Jo sniggers. “A little different from the desk job you studied for, huh?”      Y/N takes off her hat and rubs away the beads of sweat that have gathered on her forehead with the back of her hand. Jo knows what she received her master’s in, because after the young blonde escorted her to the bunkhouse and helped bring in her luggage, they continued the conversation that started in the car on their way from the airport. Besides turning down the head wrangler, her study also came up.       “It's a nice change of pace,” she admits, smiling content.      “So, you like it here? Not gonna go runnin’ back to Maine?” Jo double-checks.      “Not anytime soon,” Y/N assures.      “Good!”

     Garth, who snuck up from behind, grips her shoulders and drags her back with more force than you would expect from the slender stable boy. Without mercy, he pulls the rookie from the edge, backed up by Jo who gives her an extra push, causing Y/N to lose balance and fall into the water trough. With a loud yelp, she lands in the cold water and almost goes under entirely, legs still dangling over the edge. Like a cat that has slipped into a bathtub, she desperately claws at anything in order to get a grip and pull herself up again, eyes wide in shock.      “Jesus Christ! C-cold!” she stammers, throwing Jo and Garth a startled look. “What did you do that for?!”      None of the workers can answer immediately. Benny has buckled over from laughter as Ash claps his hands, entertained. Both Garth and the girl who Y/N thought was her friend have trouble breathing. Dean watches from a little distance, arms crossed and an amused grin on his face.       “You are now officially a part of the team, Yankee.” The cowboy grins, victoriously. “Consider this your initiation.”

     Y/N stops struggling to get out, a huff escaping her lips. Of course, she should have known that the newbie gets pranked at some point. Feeling fooled and embarrassed, the intern shakes her head. Although their actions have her feeling insecure, she’s also aware that this gag might be a token of their acceptance.      She sighs, extending her hand and asking for a little help. “Alright, you guys got me.”      Jo steps forward, trying to hide the smirk still plastered on her face. Not for long, though, because Y/N braces herself with one boot on the edge of the trough and quickly locks her fingers around Jo’s wrist. Unable to escape the intern’s grip and not nearly quick enough to prevent an involuntary dive, Jo is pulled into the water as well, exclaiming a loud squeal that sounds more like a pig than a human being. Now the guy's bellow over in laughter; Dean especially, seems to die in a fit after witnessing his little cousin get her well-deserved payback. The look on Jo’s face causes Y/N to giggle loudly as well; seems like years of wrestling her three brothers pay off once again.      “You ungrateful lil’ skank!” Jo exclaims, propping herself up on her hands to keep herself above the water surface.      “You're calling me out? Really?” Y/N replies as she gets up.      Turning towards the blonde wrangler after stumbling out of the trough, she places her hands on her waist as Garth helps Jo to her feet. Disgusted, she just stands there, holding out her arms while the water drips down, leaving puddles in the dry sand.       “Great.” She scoffs, stepping out as her cowboy boots squish. “Now I really really need a shower.”       “And a dry shirt, or your dad will rip you a new one at dinner,” Dean smirks.      “Nice bra, by the way,” Y/N whispers, leaning in a little closer before she speaks.

     Jo’s jaw drops in shock as she glances down at her light blue chequered blouse, which transformed into a see-through hooker top now that it’s drenched. Her red lace bra is visible, catching the attention of the men. All but one, because Jo’s relative obviously isn't captivated by his little cousin, but rather by the other cowgirl. The denim blouse Y/N is wearing doesn't actually reveal more now that it's wet, but the fabric does stick to her skin as if it's an airtight fit, outlining every beautiful curve she has. Water droplets sneak from her neck down her chest and into her shirt, shimmering on her smooth skin. Dean swallows hard. Hot damn, she’s a sight for sore eyes.  

     Still smiling widely at Jo - who started a rant about how a bra isn't any different from a bikini - Y/N lets her gaze wander over to him. Dean instantly looks down, feeling busted, as red flushes his cheeks. The smirk on her lips dies down into a subtle smile, reading him until he dares to meet her eyes again. Did he just...? Was he…? Had she just caught him staring at her in awe? That short moment in which she found him looking, he seemed mesmerized. Him being the one to break eye contact, immediately followed by the blush that even his dipped down cowboy hat can't hide, only proves that.      Dean feels exposed, and he decides to direct the attention to one of the workers before anyone else notices the moment between them. He glances at Garth, who seems to be under a spell as well, a spell unintentionally cast on him by the other girl. The head wrangler’s death stare doesn't even snap him out of his trance.      “Like what you see, Garth?” Dean clears his throat, protective of his cousin.       Turning red, the timid young guy drops his gaze, stammering something incomprehensible. Meanwhile, Jo eyes Garth with a perplexed look on her face, but then focuses on Y/N. It awakens her from her thoughts and with good reason. Right about now would be a good time to start running.      “You are so dead,” Jo scoffs, trying to come off as serious. 

     It's the intern’s cue to head for the hills, letting out a laugh as Jo chases after her towards the bunkhouse. The men watch them run away and Benny can't help but chuckle.      “Hell, I would pay to see a wrestling match in the mud between those two gals.”      “That’s my cousin you’re talking about,” Dean warns.      Benny smirks. “So? She ain't my cousin.”      The comment is countered by a smack in the head, so fast that the broad farrier is unable to dodge the swing. He laughs at his friend's response, though. Bantering and frolicking is common between the two. After all, they have been like brothers for the past fifteen years.      “You leave me no choice then, I’ll settle for the other Belle,” Benny jokes.

     Dean responds with a forced chuckle, but the comment has his stomach in knots. No way Benny is going to run off with the girl he has set his mind on. He must do something, come up with an excuse to prevent the guy from going all Southern charm on her. He has to keep his cool, though.      “Sorry buddy, but I’m calling dibs on the intern,” he decides, patting his friend on the shoulder as he passes him.        Stunned by the bold announcement, Benny stops in his tracks, then he snorts in laughter. He cannot be serious. He’s calling dibs?       “Oh, no no no,” he counters, catching up with the head wrangler again. “You don't get to call dibs on her. I know you put your money on that horse, but if I remember correctly, she declined.”      “Don't care. I saw her first,” Dean simply replies, not impressed with his best friend’s contradictions.

     Benny shoots him a glare, but the brightness of his clear blue eyes shows that he thinks of it as nothing more than a harmless disagreement. Besides jokingly keeping a score every now and then, there is no competition between the two of them whatsoever. Usually, they don't even fuss about who takes who to their rooms at the end of the night. The women they shared their beds with were at the ranch for a couple of weeks at most, an intern would stay a little longer if they lasted that long. There was never any seriousness to the flings, they were just that: short term and without attachments. One night Benny got lucky, another night Dean, some nights both men had a woman in their beds. Heck, there have even been a handful of girls they both had sex with. Although Benny doesn't sense it yet, this is different. Dean can't really put his finger on it and he plans not to look into it too much, but he wants Y/N for himself.      “Oh, c’mon now. Women who come through those saloon doors are rarely that easy on the eyes,” Benny whines.      “Well, there's Casey.” Dean waits for his companion to pick up on the hint, which he does soon enough.      The Southerner narrows his eyes, making sure that his pal is implying what he thinks he's implying. “What would be your proposition, my friend?”      Dean hooks his thumb behind his belt buckle as he kicks his boots through the dirt, a sparkling triumph in his eyes. This offer is going to be too good to turn down. “Casey - who by the way is as thrilling to take for a private ride as you've been imagining - is all yours. You can have her to yourself if you leave Y/N for me.”      The men reach the porch of the bunkhouse, where they halt at the bottom of the steps. Benny turns to face his friend, who has extended his hand and is waiting for the guy opposite of him to shake it. He reads the head wrangler while rubbing his beard, piercing eyes trying to sweeten the pot.      “I dunno, brother. That intern is somethin’ else,” he contemplates, challenging. “And what if she turns your sorry hind down again, huh? Sure I can give it a go then?”      But the head wrangler shakes his head and keeps his foot down. “Either you're in or you're out.” 

     Benny keeps a straight face as he considers his options, but then the line that parts his lips starts to grow into a devilish grin. He shakes the cowboy’s hand in agreement.      “Great doing business with ya, Chief,” he says, content.      The firm handshake lasts just long enough for Jo to see when she peeks through the beaded fly curtain. She changed her clothes and freshened up. As she throws the boys a penetrating glare, she continues braiding her long hair.      “What are you asshats up to?” she questions, picking up on their suspicious behavior.      The partners in crime look at each other and shrug innocently.       “Nothin’,” they respond in unison.      The ranch owner's daughter takes a second or two to read them, furrowing her brow as her penetrating stare pauses on Dean, then on her colleague. Despite not trusting their shady whispers for one bit, she rolls her eyes and goes back to the bathroom to call Y/N for dinner. Sometimes she wonders how it is possible that those two idjits aren't related.

     How the employees of the Singer family are not so fat that before getting in the saddle, their horses would flip them off, amazes Y/N. Ellen’s crispy fried chicken topped generously with homemade gravy, served with potato slices baked in rosemary, together with buttered corn on the cob, tastes absolutely delicious. Jo’s mother cooked enough for an orphanage, or for eight hungry men and women as it turns out. Despite that it seemed impossible to eat half of the meal that was served up, the pots and pans are scraped clean by the end of dinner. Seems like everyone worked up quite an appetite.      Full and satisfied, Y/N heads back to the bunkhouse together with the other residents, expecting to retreat to her room, crash on her bed feeling delightfully bloated for about fifteen minutes before falling asleep. But when Benny and Garth drag some chairs outside on the porch as Jo flicks a switch that turns on fairy lights that hang from the ceiling of the roof edge, she starts to get that the evening has only just begun. Country starts to alternate with rock on a playlist called Bunkhouse Booze-nights on Ash’s computer and she can’t help but grin when the familiar intro of Led Zep’s ‘Ramble On’ comes from the speakers. When she looks over, she catches Dean behind the laptop, a boyish smirk on his face and a wink coming her way. Y/N feels the blood rush to her cheeks, unable to stop the corners of her mouth from shifting into a smile. 

     “What are you havin’?” he asks, making his way over to the doorway to grab drinks.      The intern isn’t sure if consuming alcohol is smart, knowing that her alarm will start buzzing again at 5.30 in the morning. She doesn’t want to give the wrong impression, plus she’s fully aware that she’s an absolute lightweight. The last time she had a couple of drinks was at her graduation party, if she remembers correctly since the memory is a bit vague. What she does remember is that she wasn’t worth a dime by the end of the night, let alone the next morning.      “A soda is fine,” she replies shyly.      Her peculiar answer draws some attention.      “I'm afraid we don't serve that here, sugar,” Benny chuckles, leaning against the back of the bench, boots propped on a wooden box that serves as a table.      “C’mon, Yankee. Live a little!” Jo encourages.       She emerges from behind the fly curtain, her arms around two large cozy cushions that decorated the couches inside. She throws one, which Y/N is able to catch before it hits her in the face, as she herself sits down on the other one.      She yields. “A beer then. Just one.”      “Let me tell you somethin’,” Dean says when he gets back from the kitchen with a crate of heavenly golden brew. “Firstly: we don’t drink beer here. You’re in Arizona now, we drink Corona, and secondly-” He sits down on a chair opposite of the intern, setting the twenty-four bottles down on the ground, “- you can never have just one beer.”

     He takes out a Corona, hooks the cap behind the edge of the crate, and jams the bottle down with the palm of his free hand, sending the cap in the air. When he hands Y/N the drink, she shakes her head, chuckling. Apparently her new colleagues are going to make sure she will have fun tonight, whether she likes it or not. The head wrangler continues to open the Mexican ‘Cervezas’ until everyone has a drink in their hand.      “Fellas,” Benny calls for attention as he heaves his drink. “May the wranglers ride horses and the cowgirls ride wranglers.”      The men cheer and toast to that. Jo, however, raises her eyebrow at Benny and then disapprovingly scoffs. Challenging, her gaze glides past the men in the circle, Y/N can tell she has a comeback ready.      “Here’s to our horses. May their obedience and inability to talk bullshit inspire men one day.”      Y/N snorts and even Garth appreciates the smart reply, hiding his amused grin when Benny looks over at him, muttering ‘What? It was funny’ while the women in their company toast their bottles and take a sip.      “Alright, all jokes aside,” Dean now raising his glass to the newest member of the crew. “To our new intern. May you have the time of your life here at the ranch, gain a new family, and find what you are looking for.”      His words warm Y/N; that was such a sweet thing of him to say. She knows Jo thinks it’s a public flirt, but again she reads so much truth in his words. Appreciatively the cowgirl smiles, her Corona meeting his in the air, after which the others join in on the toast.      “Hear, hear!” Garth chants, backed up by the others.

     It will turn out to be the beginning of a great night. Y/N gets to know the other workers a little better and is all ears when Ash starts to tell tall tales about his bull riding career. The first crate of Corona is emptied in record time and the crew starts on a second. After three beers she can feel the alcohol taking an effect and Y/N’s conscience begins to sound the alarm. She’s not sure if a crisis in the morning is avoidable at this point, but if she still wants a chance at a good start of tomorrow, now would be the time to head to bed. It’s ten to midnight when she decides to call it, to the disappointment of the others.      “Ah, please. Don’t leave me with these morons,” Jo begs when her new friend gets up.      “I'm gonna be a tired mess if I don't,” Y/N responds, feeling a little sorry for her.      “We’ll forgive you if you're a little sleepy and hungover tomorrow, Y/N,” Garth promises.      “I'm not sure if Mr. Singer will see it that way,” she brings to mind.      “You'll be fine and if not, you can blame it on us,” Benny adds.       “C'mon… Stay?”      It's Dean who asks, his soft green eyes on the cowgirl as he waits for her to cave. With a deep sigh, she glances at her watch, knowing that she really shouldn't. Y/N is about to tell him ‘no’ for the second night in a row, when his best friend saves him.      “You'll miss the best part of the night. Dean was just about to fetch his guitar,” Benny mentions.      His remark triggers Y/N to curiously raises her brow at the head wrangler, who in turn eyes the Southern farrier.       “I was?” he counters.      Benny chuckles. “If you want her to stick around, you better.”       Dean now glances over at the intern carefully, then gets up. “Alright alright…” he mumbles, pushing the fly curtain aside when he heads to his room.

     Y/N sits down again, waiting for him to return in anticipation; this she would like to see. Seconds later, the handsome cowboy returns with a Gibson six string. He settles on his chair again and rests the body of the acoustic guitar on his right thigh. The way the curved lines of the instrument form around his leg as he gently holds it by the neck that fits his hand perfectly, one would think that the guitar was made especially for him. He positions his fingers on the strings between the frets and strums them with his other hand above the soundhole while listening carefully, then twists one of the tuners on the head of the guitar slightly as he keeps testing the string until it's on key. The process continues until the Gibson sounds like harmony, then Dean shifts his focus to his audience.      “Requests?” he asks the group, although he is looking at the only woman he has eyes for.      “Anything good and old,” she replies, folding her legs in pretzel position while leaning forward, elbows on her knees, and the fourth bottle between her hands.

     He thinks about if for a short moment, then starts playing the intro of Led Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’. The delighted expression when she recognizes the song after two notes triggers Dean to smile, and he continues to play. His fingers move swiftly over the fretboard as the wrangler hits the chords while swaying slowly to the rhythm, closing his eyes every so often. He makes a face when he messes up a note, but recovers and picks it back up. Completely astounded by his talent, Y/N doesn’t even notice that her jaw drops slightly when he sets in on the first verse and nails the melody. There is no doubt about it; he is absolutely amazing. When the song is over he receives a four-man applause and a shout out from Ash, who appreciates a little classic rock as well.      “If you think that's all that pretty face can do, you're wrong,” Benny tells her. “He's just warmin’ up.”      “How about some Southern comfort then, ey Benny? A little Lynyrd Skynyrd?” the head wrangler suggests.      His fingers caress the strings again, light and soft as if he's starting on a lullaby. Although the original is a true rock n’ roll anthem, Y/N recognizes the song that he’s about to cover acoustically. When Dean opens his mouth and lets his voice be heard, her eyes grow larger and she cannot believe her ears.      "Mama told me, when I was young.      Said ‘sit beside me, my only son.      Listen closely, to what I say.      If you do this, it will help you some sunny day."

     Y/N isn’t sure if it's the serenade he performs for her that does the trick, or the sight of the good looking cowboy playing his guitar as he brings the lyrics so passionately, but now she’s the one who’s mesmerized. His voice sounds like a combination of honey and whiskey, a rough edge adding to the beautiful depth. Completely blown away, she listens to the gift that was given him, taking in the musical mix of guitar and vocals.      “Oh, take your time. Don't live too fast.      Troubles will come, and they will pass.” As he continues, Dean looks up, meeting Y/N’s astonished gaze, which he keeps a hold of like he did on the night they met.

     “You'll find a woman, and you'll find love…”      While singing the line, his eyes are fixed on her. Maybe or maybe not intentional, but that question does not influence the consequences. She feels her heart rate pick up, beating evidently in her chest. A warm, tingly sensation starts to evolve in the pit of her stomach, enabling her to move. If she would have wanted to break eye contact, good luck, because turning her gaze away is simply impossible.      “Forget your lust from the rich man's gold.      All that you need, is in your soul.      You can do this, oh baby, if you try.      All that I want for you is to be satisfied.”      The fight against the effect that cowboy has on her, lasted a good twenty-four hours. Stubbornly she battled what surfaced the very first moment he so much as glanced at her over his poker cards yesterday evening, when she first saw the handsome wrangler. There are plenty of reasons why letting these feelings roam free is a bad idea. For one, work doesn't mix well with personal life. Secondly, she’s only staying for six months and was unable to keep a relationship going with someone who lives in the same town, let alone halfway across the country. Y/N could go on bullet-pointing why she should resist the hypnosis he has her under. This is a bad, bad idea, Y/N! He’s a playboy! He doesn’t like you, he likes girls in general! He couldn’t possibly be attracted to you! But telling herself doesn't help anymore, there's no reasoning with her heart.       “And be a simple kind of man.      Be something you'll love and understand.       Baby, be a simple, kind of man.      Oh, won't you do this for me son, if you can.”      The excitement she felt when she got on a pony at the age of four. The true fear she experienced when she fell off a horse, that moment right before she hit the ground. The thrill when she performed a sliding stop for the first time. That profound admiration that warmed her soul when she got Meadow from her granddad. The ecstasy that raised her up when she became State Champion with a perfect ride. Throw all those emotions into a blender and that would describe how Y/N feels right now. Vividly experiencing the chemical reaction in her brain, she continues to watch the man strumming his guitar, who has absolutely no idea what he’s doing to the young woman opposite of him. The small light bulbs above him shimmer an angelic light on his golden hair, highlighting his strong features. She is so captivated by the moment, that she can barely make out the words he's singing, but she does hear the soul in his voice. And as she realizes what is happening to her, something snaps inside, like a rubber band. Then she knows. Then she knows that there is in fact a way to describe this rollercoaster ride she’s on right now.

     She’s falling.      She’s falling in love.      "Don't you worry, you'll find yourself.      Follow your heart, and nothing else.      You can do this, oh baby, if you try.      All that I want from you, is to be satisfied.”

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part six here

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part three) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±5200 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part three: Things are awkward between the Reader and head-wrangler Dean, and her nerve wrecking first day at Gold Canyon Ranch hasn’t even started yet. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me. You girls are awesome betas. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Before the alarm even has the chance to awaken Y/N from her restless sleep, she turns it off and rises from her bed. As she hops off the small mattress, she hits her head against the top bunk and lets out a groan. Wonderful, she thinks to herself as she rubs her head and grids her teeth, just what I need at 5.30 in the morning.       She flicks on the light, which stings her eyes the moment the rays hit them. For a second she glances around the ten-by-six room, of which most of the space is occupied by the two-story bed and a closet. Oh well, at least she has the room to herself. She would feel even more claustrophobic in the small space that she can call hers for the next six months. 

     By taking in a deep breath, she tries to calm herself down. Today is the first line of a new chapter in her life, the chapter in which she will prove to the world that she is not just some stuck up rich kid from upstate who is offered all life’s best opportunities by her parents. She does get everything she wants, alright, because she works hard for it. She has worked hard for her degree, she has worked hard to become a pro reining rider. And now she will work hard shoveling horse shit. Y/N isn’t a simpleton; she saw how interns were treated at the livery stable where she boarded her horse, back in Freeport. They tend to end up with all the chores nobody else wants to do; the dirty jobs. Come to think of it, she might have used an intern to clean up her mess every now and then, and boy, does she regret it now. If karma exists, today it will bite her in the ass. 

     With a sigh, she gets up, grabs a towel, her shampoo and makeup bag, and quietly heads for the shower without waking anyone. The warm water falling on her skin does not only cleanse her body from a damp and restless night, but also her mind. The intern expects today to be dreadful, but she needs to stop being so negative.           Maybe you will get to go on a trail today, that would be fun, she reassures herself under the spray. You’ve got Jo to back you up, you will be fine.

     You. Will. Be. Fine.

     Nevertheless, nerves tighten knots in her stomach again, as it did when she stepped into the saloon last night. What if I won’t be fine? What if the workload is too heavy, what if I’m not cut out for this job?      Getting tired of her own brooding, she washes out the conditioner and turns off the shower. After drying her hair, she wraps the towel around her chest and secures it by tucking one hem behind the other, then starts on her makeup. 

     This is her daily routine, no matter how early she needs to get up for it. Confidence is not her strong suit and looking as good as she can, gives her just enough boost to get by, especially on nerve-wracking days like these. After fixing her eyelashes with mascara, she hears a door creak open in the hallway; sounds like the rest of the crew is waking up too. After tightening the towel, making sure that it’s not coming off on her stroll back to her room, she opens the bathroom door. A young woman with dark wavy hair throws an old coffee filter in the trash. All she’s wearing is an oversized plaid shirt that reaches over her thighs.       “G’morning,” the brunette greets friendly.      “Hi,” she returns, somewhat hesitant, then extends her hand towards her as she takes a step in her direction in order to introduce herself. "I'm Y/N."      “Casey,” the natural beauty replies, shaking her hand.      Last night, she was there in the saloon, but Jo didn’t introduce them. Y/N assumed she was a guest, but now that she finds her here in the bunkhouse, she figures Casey must be personnel.       While pouring herself a cup, she looks up at Y/N. “You want a cup of coffee?”       “Yes, please,” Y/N obliges, appreciating a mug full of warm brew to help her wake up. "I'll throw on some clothes first."

     As Y/N turns around to retreat back to her room to get dressed, the door closest to the kitchen area opens. When she sees the man at the door, her jaw drops and she swears to God that her heart beats twice as fast from the moment her eyes capture the person in the doorway. It’s Dean, but wearing distinctively less clothing. His worn-down jeans are the only thing he’s wearing, hanging from his hips, only held by a leather belt with a silver inlaid buckle. Y/N’s eyes glide up, noticing the happy trail running up his abdomen. My oh my, is that body a nice one. Proportioned, toned, and tanned from years of ranch work under the Arizona sun. Broad shoulders, strong arms. In her mind, it feels like she has been taking him in for at least a minute, but thankfully she only needs a split second to snap out of it, not wanting to get caught staring again. It’s only then when she realizes that she herself is draped in nothing more than a towel, exposing almost as much skin as he is. There it is, the first moment of the day when she wishes to be invisible.      “Morning, Yankee,” he greets, his voice still raspy from sleep.      “M-morning,” she manages to mutter.      She then points at her room awkwardly, pressing the towel against her chest, after which she stammers something unintelligible and turns to self-consciously walk back to safety. His eyes burn in her back, and when she turns towards him as she closes the door, a suppressed smile that expresses both amusement and appreciation adorns his handsome face. Y/N only breathes out again when the door falls in the lock behind her. God, could you be more embarrassing? Good job on not making a total fool of yourself!       She takes a deep breath and runs both her hands through her hair, trying to push the moment to the back of her mind, then drops the towel and quickly hoists herself in underwear, and after that a pair of dark jeans. Get yourself together, Y/N. Sure, he looks incredibly hot, but he is not the first good looking guy you’ve come across. He shouldn’t have this effect on you, Jo warned you about him, for crying out loud!       Lecturing herself, she puts on her bra and a denim blouse, after which she steps in her boots. The shine has worn off, since she kicked through the dirt on her way to the bunkhouse last night, making them a little less conspicuous. Quickly, she blow-dries her hair, straightens it out with an ironer, and glances at the reflection in the small mirror. A nervous and insecure little girl stares back, the image having her sigh deeply and close her eyes on herself. On the corner of the bedpost, her custom-fitted Milano western hat waits. She brought two hats to Arizona, one being a navy blue Stetson that she has had for ages, the other is the black Milano, which her grandfather gave her before debuting at the State Championships. Ever since that win, it has become her lucky hat. She picks it up by the crown, moves it over her head, and then pushes it down on her hair, pulling the front dip down a little deeper over her eyes. There, much better. Just walk out there, pretend nothing happened. You’ve got this.       After another deep breath to ground herself, she exits her room and joins the others in the living area. Jo, Benny, and Garth are there too, trying to wake themselves with some caffeine. Dean has settled on the leather couch, also sipping his coffee. He’s fully dressed now, thankfully. She’s not sure if she could have looked in his direction if he wasn’t.

     “Hey! Slept well?” Jo wonders, pushing a coffee filled mug in her direction.      “Yeah, fine,” Y/N answers, forcing a smile.      Not at all, but no need for them to know. A quick glance at the clock above the stove tells her it’s 6.20; only ten minutes until this dreadfully slow day is going to start.      “Is Ash up yet?” Dean checks with the rest.      “What do you think?” Jo returns snarky.      With a grunt Dean gets up, walks over to the door next to her and bangs on it loudly. “Ash!”       A loud snore comes from behind the closed door, followed by nervous rummaging. “I’m up!”  

     With a chuckle, Dean returns to the living room, where Casey stood up from the chair. Wearing the same clothes as she did last night, she walks up to him.      “I’m heading off. Breakfast with the girls,” she announces, after which she leaves a kiss on his lips. He answers her and closes his eyes as he does, stalling the motion for a second longer. Then they part and he smiles down on the gorgeous girl.      “See you in the saloon tonight?” Dean checks.      “You betcha,” Casey replies, staring him down flirtatiously, before she exits the bunkhouse.      The wrangler pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, grinning content as he settles on the couch again. All this time Y/N has watched him, a bit perplexed by what just happened. Suddenly it makes sense why Jo didn’t introduce her to Casey; she’s a guest who just happened to have spent the night here, with Dean. When she directs her focus to Jo, the blonde cowgirl mouths ‘told ya?’ triumphantly. Chuckling, Y/N shakes her head. Jo was right, and boy is she glad that she told him to find his booty call elsewhere. 

     In the meantime, Ash has joined them and five minutes before their shift starts, the group of wranglers and workers head out. The moment Y/N steps outside, the heat that lingered despite the night hits her. Dear lord, she hasn’t lifted a finger yet and she’s already sweating. Before she can complain out loud, the intern looks up, instantly captivated by the landscape. Last night the veil of darkness didn’t allow the scenery to be appreciated, but now that the sun steadily rises in the east, warding off the clouds that float at the horizon above the Superstition Mountains, she is fully aware of its beauty. Bright rays of orange and yellow spread their light over their surroundings, draping all that’s in the sun’s reach with gold. Cows and their calves impatiently wait in their large stretched out pastures by the fence, moohing, eager for new hay. The dirt with a speck of red in it crunches under their boots as the smell of the country fills her nostrils.

      Suddenly the intern’s first day at the ranch seems a little less intimidating. She can’t wait to be around horses again, to hear them rustle their noses through their roughage and hear them neigh the moment the stable doors open. The way their presence triggers every sense of her to take in as much as she can possibly absorb, purely to enjoy the bliss feeling of belonging. In a year’s time, only a few days passed without spending at least some hours around these majestic animals. Christmas was one of those moments, yesterday was one too. One day without them and she already craves for their touch, their interaction, their companionship. Something called homesickness. Not for Maine, not for her friends and family, but for horses. Home is where the heart is. There’s a lot of truth in those words.

     “So, what is today going to be like?” she wonders eagerly, after catching up with Jo.      “We start with feeding, turning the horses out, and mucking stables. Dean and I usually ride a couple of horses before breakfast at 8.30. After breakfast, we tack up for the trail rides with the tourists. A few wranglers go out with them, others stay behind to groundwork horses, clean tack, stuff like that. Lunch at 12.00, depending on the heat we take a break and get back to work at 2 PM,” the ranch owner’s daughter fills in.      Y/N tries to memorize the schedule as well as she can. Her description of the day helps, though. It offers a grip on the situation, calming the nerves.      “The afternoon is different every day. Sometimes we have extra trails, the vet might come in, or clients for the horses that need to be sold. When it’s quiet the workers do maintenance on the property while we train more horses. We feed the animals round at 6.30, dinner is served at 7. Final feeding round at 10.”

     The humid air was already pressing heavily on Y/N. Getting through the day without passing out, is definitely going to be a challenge. Despite those circumstances, she catches herself looking forward to this day, something that she couldn’t imagine last night when she retired to bed. She directs her attention to the group again, when some of the workers fan out, heading for the hay barn next to the stables. Within seconds she hears the tractor start and watches Ash roll out the big old machine that pumps black puffs from the exhaust with every strike of the engine. A trailer loaded with hay bales is attached to the rusty tractor, carrying Benny as well, who found a comfortable spot in the back.       “Keep up, Yankee!” Jo looks over her shoulder, waiting for Y/N to step to it.      Quickly she follows the cowgirl, who on her turn is right behind Dean and Garth.       Seems like they aren’t the only ones who got up early to get work done, because Bobby is already pushing the feed cart through the hallway between two rows of stalls, scooping pellets into the horses’ feeders through the bars. Some impatiently kick against the wood in an attempt to rush the old ranch owner, but he’s not in a hurry. Instead, he mutters something to the grey in the left row that is making a fuss.      “Mornin’, y’all,” Bobby greets them, somewhat grumpy.      “G’morning. What are we up for?” Dean consults with his boss.      “Two rides. A slow ride in the morning and a mountain hack in the afternoon,” Bobby fills in, closing the lid of the bucket half full of oats, then turns to his new intern.       “What time does your horse arrive?” he asks.      “Around 2 PM, the driver would let me know if he would run late, but I haven’t heard anything so far,” Y/N notifies.      “The first box on the right is unoccupied. It’s yours for the next six months, but I expect you to work for it,” he says, an encouraging sternness in his voice.      “I will, Mr. Singer,” she assures him.      “Alright,” Dean interrupts. “Y/N, you’re with me.”      The authoritative way he speaks unsettles her a little, but she tries her best to hide it. She’s on his hip from the moment he starts walking through the barn, showing her around.      “Tack room is on the right. Wash the bits clean before you hang the bridles away and always fold a cover over the saddle. Put back everything where you found it, otherwise Garth will rip you a new one, he likes the place neat. The cafeteria is over here, we all gather here for breakfast and lunch. Same deal, keep it clean. The coffee sucks, but it will wake you up in the morning.”      Dean gives her a short moment to glance inside the small yet comfy hangout, which contains a wooden picnic table for ten, and a small kitchenette. Her eyes glide over the numerous photos on the wall of show horses, the ranch from a birds-view, and many other images, together with won belt buckles, ribbons, and a messenger board.      “You’ll find the schedule of the day on there, also important phone numbers, to-do lists, memos, you name it. Check it every morning before you start and every evening before you leave. If a horse loses a shoe or needs special care, write it on the board,” he tells her, after which he retreats back to the hallway.

     His flirtatious manors have disappeared after she flipped him off last night, just the way she wanted at that moment. But now that he has this coldness over him on the work-floor, Y/N isn’t so sure if this is what she was after. Is he a sore loser? Is that the reason why he’s so reserved all of a sudden? Or is he keeping personal and business separate? Confused, she follows him as the wrangler heads for the horse boxes.      “These are all training horses, some owned by us, some by clients. They are turned out in small groups, except for the stallions, which are turned out alone in the high fenced paddocks. Learn their names and description quickly, we can’t have a mare in a pasture with a stallion, and believe me, you wouldn’t be the first to do such a thing.”

     On the other side of the barn, he lifts the heavy bar out of the hinge in order to open the tall doors. Behind them lays several acres of land, split up in pastures and paddocks, their gateways surrounding the outdoor tack up area in a U-shape. In the center, a Joshua tree reaches up to a clear sky. The old specimen must have been here for a while, since it has grown to a stunning height of at least thirty feet, offering shade to whoever needs it. To the right, a round pen is situated together with a large outdoor training arena. The yucca tree as well as the wooden fencing, are illuminated by the warm rays from the rising sun. Y/N tips her hat forward to protect her eyes from the brightness, enjoying the view. It’s a gorgeous sight and she wonders how long it has been like this. The tree almost seems sacred in this setting, an old soul that has been watching over these lands for decades, maybe even centuries. In the far distance, a herd grazes on the slopes leading up to the Superstition Mountains.           “Those are our trail horses. We’ve got about twenty of them. They stay out in the fields twenty-four seven and only come in for rides,” Dean tells her, after which he goes on with the tour, pointing out each while naming them in a rush. “Stallion paddocks, pastures, round pen, arena.”

     He heads back inside, expecting the intern to be right on his heels, but she hesitates, still absorbing the information. For a split second he observes, because she isn’t the only one who is taken aback by the view. Her silky hair falls down from under her western hat, the profile of her nose, lips, and chin outlined by the morning sun. The place mesmerizes her, just like it did when he first saw it. In fact, one of the first memories he can recall is sprinting through the barn towards the sunrise, his mom requesting with a gentle voice not to run, because it might spook the horses. He listened and halted in the large door frame, gazing at the enormous tree in front of him. He couldn’t have been more than four years old. Pushing the memory away, Dean lifts his gaze back at his intern and gets back to business.      “C’mon, we ain’t got all day!”            Y/N snaps out of it and approaches him, clearly not at ease and he regrets striking such a tone instantly. He can’t help it, though. Of course, he needs to be tough on the rookies, he has to if he wants to determine if they are right for the job or not. Ranch life is hard work, not to mention that they are handling horses and cattle weighing a thousand pounds each. A small error can have huge consequences, and since she’s under his supervision, he wants to prevent mistakes at all costs. But is it just that? If he’s honest with himself, is he really being an ass because he’s the boss? Or does he have to admit that he’s still slightly annoyed by the fact that his ego got damaged by this fierce new face? Normally he would shake off a rejection - not that he had many - yet she brought out of balance. Why is that? He gave it some thought, especially the way she responded to him right after she entered the saloon. Those lingering stares they exchanged, the way she got all flustered when he surprised her with his eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed, so the harsh ‘no’ when he went over for a chat still feels like a slap in the face. Somehow, it didn’t add up, because he could have sworn he felt a connection. It occupied his mind to a degree that he was still thinking about the woman who shot him down while having sex with Casey. 

     Forcing himself to get a grip, he continues to walk down the alley between the stables, footsteps echoing under the high ceiling. Jo and Garth already started preparing the horses for their free time outdoors, strapping protective boots to their legs. Bobby’s daughter takes a bay quarter horse out of his box after which she opens the stable door for a beautiful palomino as well and leads the two horses outside. Iron horseshoes click on the paved grounds rhythmically, soothing like a metronome.      “Each horse has its own halter. Some wear leg protection, which you can find in these bags,” Dean continues, taking a pair of overreach boots out of a canvas bag hanging from the stable door, along with a halter.       He opens the stall without making eye contact with his intern, focusing on the horse that curiously comes closer to meet him. Uncomfortable, Y/N waits for his next instruction by the door. Should she speak up? This time she reconsiders her words carefully, but she cannot stand the tension that is hanging in the already humid air.      “Dean, about last night…”      Her voice is so hesitant that it triggers the wrangler to turn and face the young woman, his expression shifting from annoyed to something much more gentle. In comparison to the deliverance of her message yesterday, she seems timid now.       “I know I was a little… blunt, when I told you to go find your luck elsewhere. The thing is, that I really need to focus on this job and on my placement here, do the best I can. I don’t want to mess this up or get sent home early. I can’t afford distraction,” she explains, trying to smoothen things out.      Observant Dean returns her gaze while he gently pulls the halter over the horse’s ears, securing the snap of the throat lash to cheekpiece. He doesn’t mean to, but a small smirk fights it’s way up to the surface. He’s got to say, he respects her for keeping her eyes on the ball. Bobby was right; she is a go-getter.      “Where is this coming from?” he wonders, voice much softer than it has been all morning.      “Well, I kind of had the feeling you are giving me the cold shoulder,” she confesses, uneasy.

     Again silence, this one at least as awkward as the previous one. How many hours ago have they met each other? Not even ten? And yet, despite being a little insecure about it now, she seems to be able to express herself quite well. It’s an aspect that stands out, one that Dean likes. She doesn’t beat around the bush, that’s for sure.      “You might have a point,” the wrangler admits. “But I need to be tough on the interns. It ain’t a cashier job at Walmart, this line of work can get dangerous. Do understand that I’m your supervisor and that it’s my responsibility that you--”      Whoa whoa whoa, stop it right there. Rewind and play again. He’s her what now?      “You’re my supervisor?” she repeats in shock.      Dean nods, confused. “Yeah, didn’t Bobby and Ellen tell you that?”      She shakes her head and buries her face in her hands as the embarrassment washes over her like a tidal wave. She cannot believe she wasn’t aware of this!      “N-no, they didn't…” Y/N stammers. First, they forget her at the airport and now this? God, this place has communication issues!        “I’m so sorry. What I said, that was just downright disrespectful,” she apologizes, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.      “Don’t worry about it,” he says, shrugging it off. “Can you get Argo? He’s in the box next door.”

     She nods, not entirely at ease just yet. Nevertheless, she steps to it, takes the halter and splint boots, and enters the stable to the right. Not being in the same box offers time and space to revise strategies, because she doesn't feel like the conversation has come to a solid end. Good grief, she feels like such an idiot. For someone who takes the job seriously, it was a pretty dumb move to talk back to the one person who is going to be her guide and mentor during this placement. He barely said a word before she treated him so rudely! He came up to ask if she was looking forward to her first day, for crying out loud! She has got to say something, anything to make it right. Before she can continue, though, the wrangler beats her to it.       “Look, I might have come on a little strong. I didn’t mean to put you in a compromising position. If I did--”        “No, it’s fine,” Y/N insists. “I think last night went down a little different than we both anticipated.”

     The wrangler keeps a hold of her gaze for a second and then nods, deciding to settle with that. She’s right; they both could have handled the situation differently. It’s good that they cleared the air, though. He usually enjoys bossing rookies around, but with her, he’d rather take a more gentle approach.      “I’m gonna take you thinking I’m a distraction as a compliment, then,” he comments jokingly.      Y/N looks up from her work as she puts the halter on the chestnut, chuckling lightly. Dean smiles at her response, her little laugh lifting the weight off his chest. Their eyes lock as they observe each other through the bars separating them, both very well aware of the slightly different vibe in the air. Dean - who was left somewhat disoriented after her decline - seems to have found his footing again. She can see it in the small crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, in the dimples of his cheeks when he smiles. Damn, that smile. And there it is again, that sparkle. A shimmer in his eyes, like holding a beautifully cut emerald gemstone against the light.        “I was warned that you can be very distracting,” she returns, correcting him.      Jo walks past to fetch more horses to turn out, glaring at the pair as she passes by. Dean catches her ‘what the hell are you up to?’ stare, which he replies to by raising his eyebrows and intensifying his trademark smile.      “Let me guess. Jo told you all about how I spend my evenings?” he replies to her comment, almost a whisper to prevent his cousin from listening in.      “And your lunch breaks,” Y/N adds, well aware of the value of the intel.      He cringes at that, then chuckles, busted, as he clasps the lead rope to the halter, after which he bends down to strap the overreach boots to the lower leg just above the hoof. He never thought the day would come, but his experience with women isn’t exactly working in his favor right now. Is he keeping his hands busy trying to hide the embarrassment?       “Seems like I’ve built myself quite the reputation,” the cowboy concludes.

     She watches him through the barred wall, considering if she should say something. After all, she doesn’t want him to feel ashamed. What he does in his own time is none of her business. So what that he sleeps around? That doesn’t make him a bad person. Why should she even care? And yet, she can’t deny that when Casey kissed him back at the bunkhouse, jealousy tucked at her heart.       “No, you haven’t,” she reassures, trying to take away his embarrassment while pushing down her own thoughts. “I promise I won’t jump to conclusions anymore, okay?”      “Alright,” Dean agrees to that. “And you’ve got my word that I won’t treat you differently from now on. Despite that you were busting my balls yesterday.”       Finally at ease, she smiles, glad that they both find the memory amusing now. When she looks up at him again, the curved line of his lips evens out a little.       “Despite that - and please don’t take this the wrong way,” he adds on a more serious note, the short pause hanging between them, the moment intensified by his kind eyes, “I believe that you’re somethin’ special.”

     Surprised by his words, Y/N stares back at him. It’s not a joke, is it? Nor is it innocent flirting. She barely knows the guy, but she can tell he’s being sincere. Unlike yesterday, Y/N accepts the compliment, because this time she truly believes it’s not just a way to seduce her and lure her to his bed. He means it, and something tells her that he hasn’t said something like that to many girls before. That’s what she wants to believe, at least.       The flustered smile that his words ignites should give him even more confidence than he already possesses, but it does the opposite. With any other girl his eyes would remain fixed, letting his gaze do the talking for him. He would have let his content smile grow larger, he would keep his head up, stand straight with his shoulders back, not a speck of insecurity to be noticed. But not with her. With her, he averts his attention to the horse next to him, gently running his hand through the gelding’s mane, unable to keep his posture. Why does he do that? He was doing just fine the first time they locked eyes last night. Hell, he stared for so long, that she didn’t know what to do with herself. He was in control, until he settled down on that barstool next to the cowgirl. Until she told him ‘no’. Until she took the reins.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part four here