#cowboy reiner will be the death of me I swear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chrollohearttags · 9 months

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bake it

reiner can’t get enough of you or your sweet treats. Regardless of what anyone thinks.

themes: food play, reiner and reader both being nasty af, (and both have super country accents), lots of old southern colloquialisms, food play, oral (m. receiving), spit play, pet names (sugar, poundcake, daddy, pumpkin, sweet girl), spanking, backshots, squirting

📝: this may or may not be a lil series based off my fav album at the moment. I think it fits the cowboy!reiner x reader headcanon very well.

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“Chile, did you hear about what (y/n) did down at the Hole this weekend?”

“Girl yes. Being fast and actin’ all loose. Hanging over every man that’ll look her way.” “I’m tellin’ ya, honey. She ain’t nothing like her mama or her cousins. Girl’s a handful, I tell ya. Never seen a thang’ like it.”

“She was with that Braun boy from what I heard. Lord knows what she was doing..”

rumblings and rumors had spread like wildfire among about what took place at the infamous hang out spot and saloon in the small town in which you’d grown up. It seemed that not much had changed from the time you were a tiny child from now being a grown woman, returning to your stomping grounds after a couple years of higher education. Pearl clutching church ladies and snobby debutants with their noses in the air, disapproving of any woman who hadn’t settled down and popped out ten kids before the age of twenty five. It was how the customary traditions went in the south and sadly, wasn’t going to change any time soon. However…

“Yes and did you hear that I had him calling to the good lord after I fucked him seven ways to Sunday? He was a lot of fun. Boy’s got a third leg and a tongue like a serpent. Might have to keep him around.”

the very bold proclamation of your supposed actions had your coworkers of the Sweetie Pie Bakery; owned by the ladies in your family and had been a staple in the city for ten years, gasping and glaring at you disgust. The ones working there currently were a few new hires from the local church. The types to be sleeping with other people’s husbands by Saturday and running in and out of the pew on Sunday. Blatant hypocrites. Hence why you so casually admitted to your affairs and boasted about them. You didn’t give a damn what those uppity bitches thought of you! Especially when the man in question was all but obsessed with you…sneaking away at any opportune moment to have you since the first night you gave him a taste of your proverbial sweetness. Slurping you up, tonguing you down and pounding that little pussy sideways..letting him have a slice of you anyway he liked. It was no secret to anyone that you weren’t some innocent saint but if it’s gossip they wanted, you’d give those mouth breathing heifers something to bump their gums about. They’d feel how they want to about you regardless so it didn’t matter. Might as well have a little fun..

“Now if you ladies will excuse me, I have a delivery to make.”

“In that outfit?!” Referring to the very short, denim miniskirt wrapping your thick backside and halter top hoisting your ample breasts.“It’s ninety two degrees outside besides, a wretched jezebel like me has to look the part, right?” Mocking them with an overly done accent and a fake smile before waving and turning on the heels of your boots.

and where you were headed, you wouldn’t have it on long anyways..not once he spotted you…

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halfway across the tracks was a small office residing on the outskirts of town, right before you’d reach the dozen mile long stretch of fields and farmland. The moniker atop the building read ‘Braun Farms, Inc.’ owned and operated by the prominent family for several years and generations. Providing fresh vegetables, poultry, cattle and everything else to many local diners and families. The hardest working man in the entire company may have been the next line to take it over, Reiner Braun. A young, handsome, determined guy who was always about his business before any sort of pleasures. Of course, that all changed when his new fling came around..a girl by the name of (y/n) (l/n) who had a grip on him in more ways than one. After some whisperings, he discovered that you too had grown up in this area but was carted off to school elsewhere in your adolescence. You at sone private Christian academy and him homeschooled, hence why your paths never crossed. But that was a thing of the past and so was hiding the promiscuity you both harbored.

“Damn, poundcake. You keep suckin’ on me like that and I might hafta’ give you my credit card and last name.”

the words escaping in a guttural groan from Reiner’s half parted lips. His chest was heaving, so much so, it looked as if it were about to pop from his chest. Going mad with pure unadulterated lust as you licked on his shaft from underneath the desk. He had been assigned to records keeping today so you decided to pay him a little visit on his lunch break. And what was a better meal than your delicious cupcake and the chance to eat his dick up?

“Don’t say that too loud, pumpkin. Someone might get the wrong idea about me..think I’m trying to take ya’ money.”

“To hell with them. Only thing I want right now is to fuck that pretty lil’ throat.”

and he did just that. Bobbing your head up and down with a spread palm resting atop your freshly done lace front; feeding you every inch feasible of that long, erect cock. Gliding it to the back of your mouth until it damn near reached your esophagus and drummed up strings of spit. Loud gurgling noises filled the room and Reiner nearly lost his shit. Clawing at the arms of the chair and cursing like a sailor. You had this man doing and behaving in ways unbecoming of his character but he could give a damn less. As long as you kept letting him use you like this. Sticking your tongue out, you’d smile and request that he spit into your mouth..adding to the pre existing strings saliva and cum covering your face. It didn’t help matters any when you decided to take some of that frosting and place it on his sensitive tip before slurping it off. “W-whatever you want, sugar. I’ll give you whatever you want just keep —oh shit!” Earning yourself another warm load of his nut all over your exposed tits and pretty face. “You taste so good..” Those deviant eyes and sultry voice luring him in. By now, you had to be dripping so he’d tug you out from under there and place you at the edge of the desk before saddling up behind you with that hard dick. Hoisting that mini skirt to your waist, letting it bunch up around that soft, pudgy tummy, he was pleased to find that you wearing no panties but was wetter than the lake he frequented.

“Want you to fuck this pussy so good…stretch it out f’r me, Rei…” begging with your decorated nails placed on your round cheeks as you pulled them apart to reveal that puckering hole and soaking entrance…making him hungry for both. Wasting no time, he’d grab a handful of that thin top and your waist to reign you in. With his teeth grimaced, he’d whisper in your ear with growls; feeding you heavy handed smacks to your ass in the process. Spanking you like a bad kid but doing so because you enjoyed every second. “That’s what you want, sugar? For me to fuck ya’ like a lil’ slut? Make you come all over this dick? That right, baby?” To which you’d nod profusely, never craving something so badly before in your life. Of course, he was happy to oblige..but you’d have to beg a bit, just because that sexy voice turned him on so bad. “Yes, daddy. Need you to fill my shit up too..nut all in this pussy. I ain’t come all this way for nothin.” And of course, that all but sold him. So with your inviting heat waiting for him and those Wranglers ruffled around his waist, Reiner pulled you in close before impaling you on his cock.

“Damn right, baby..so take all this dick.” Pressing a thumb to your tight little asshole as he pumped you full..one long, deep stroke after the next, coaxing out sticky cream and soft cries as you scratched at the wooden surface he had you planked across. Sliding in and out of that warmth like a perfectly fitting puzzle piece. The tight clutch you put around his shaft had him mesmerized. It didn’t help your case any when you constantly doted and bragged on how good he fucked you. “I swear you’re the only one who can get this pussy wet like this..” “..right there, daddy. You in my fucking spot..gonna make me come.” Of course, Reiner was loving every bit and only wanted to please his lady so as that big ass bounced against his pelvis and rippled like waves, he’d give you more slaps and try to maintain his pace. Even going as far as to make that tip kiss the inner corner of your cervix.“Give it to me then…nut f’r me, sweet girl. Let it all go.” And the second you did, juices flooded the floor as you squirted all over him. “Shitttt! That’s what I’m talking about, pretty girl. Make a mess of me..” grinning from ear to ear before housing his own seed inside of you. That pulsating cock still inside of you minutes later. Turning you around, he’d mark your lips with a sloppy kiss and look down at the aftermath.

“I swear, I ain’t never gonna be able to quit you, sugar. Just too damn sweet..”

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katehuntington · 5 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part two) Fandom: Supernatural AU Main 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: ±5400 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 two: Jo picks up Y/N from the airport and doesn’t waste any time warning the intern for a notorious wrangler called Dean Winchester. When she arrives at Gold Canyon Ranch, she soon understands why. 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: ‘Broken Halos’ - Chris Stapleton (car scene) and ‘No Good’ - Kaleo (saloon entry). (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

It stops raining just as suddenly as it started coming down, but the asphalt in front of the airport entrance still shimmers under the streetlights. Knowing that it's going to take at least forty-five minutes for her ride to arrive, Y/N treated herself to a cup of coffee from Starbucks, which she sips on while seated on her suitcase. Whenever a set of headlights approaches, she looks up hopefully, but up to now, all cars have passed by. With a bored sigh, she tucks her flat-ironed hair behind her ear and yawns, despite the caffeine she’s consuming. She checks her phone again. “Come on, already…”

When she looks up from the device, a black pickup pulls up to the curb. It triggers her to straighten her back and seek eye contact with the driver. As the car comes to a stop, a young woman has turned to look outside her downed passenger window. “Are you Y/N?” “Yes,” she responds a bit hesitantly as she rises. The driver grins and signals her to come closer. “Well, get in. I ain’t got all night!”

Y/N smiles back somewhat nervously, draws out the grip of her suitcase and rolls it to the side of the car. With difficulty, she manages to push the heavy load in the open cargo area, making sure not to scratch the paint or spill her coffee, after which she hastens to the passenger-door and gets in. Before she settles down, Jo picks up her ivory white cowboy hat from the seat and puts it down behind her, offering her passenger a place to sit. As she does so and closes the door, the driver holds out her hand. Y/N shakes it, surprised by the strength of the young woman’s grip. “Jo Singer,” she introduces herself. “Welcome on the Gold Canyon Ranch Express.”

While Jo steers the car back on the road, Y/N takes her in. She’s slender, not very tall, but the confidence she radiates makes up for that. She’s rocking the ripped jeans and western boots, a comfortable loosely knitted sweater covers the skin that her tank-top doesn’t. The young woman has plaited her hair in a messy braid which falls down from her left shoulder. With one hand at twelve o’clock on the wheel and the other casually hanging outside the door, she averts her focus from the road for a brief second, turning to her passenger.

“Sorry ‘bout the wait. Cattle just came in and Dad got a little caught up. He gets that way sometimes,” Jo apologizes as she lowers the volume of the radio. “That’s okay,” Y/N assures, holding up her coffee. “I had company.” “What is that, by the way? Do I smell cinnamon?” Jo eyes the coffee container as if it’s alien. “It’s a Cinnamon Dolce Latte,” Y/N states before taking a sip. “A what now?” Registering Jo’s expression, she sniggers. “Cinnamon, coffee, and milk, basically.” “Fancy.” The driver grins. “You’re from up north, right?” “Yeah. Freeport, Maine,” she elaborates. “It’s quite a change of scenery.” “I’ll bet,” the cowgirl behind the wheel reckons. “Ya’ll have pretty cold winters over there, huh?”

Curiously, the new girl looks over at Jo. The Southern charm in her voice is rich. Her accent has a lot more soul to it than the ones she picked up in the arrival hall and the coffee place back at the airport. Not even the local taxi drivers who were chatting as they waited for a ride sounded like Jo.

“Yeah.” Y/N nods, answering the question after a beat. “Lots of snow too.” “You won’t ever be cold in Arizona, I can promise ya that, Yankee.” Y/N chuckles. “Yankee?” “That’s what us Southerners call Northerners,” she explains. “Better get used to it.” “I thought Arizona was considered the Southwest,” the intern says. Now it’s Jo’s turn to smirk, as she gives her a side-eye. “Aren’t you as smart as all get out? But you’re right. My folks are from the South. The ranch belonged to my grandpa back in the day. When he got too old to work the land, Mom and Dad moved in to help and took over when he passed. I was born and raised here in Gold Canyon, but what can I say? It’s hard to lose the slang when you’re around a bunch of Southerners.”

Jo continues to make small talk. Y/N doesn’t mind it, though. It’s nice to get to know the ranch owner’s daughter and at least there’s not an awkward silence dwelling in the old pickup. Easy conversation about the weather is soon traded for other subjects, like the ranch and the horses. “Dad mentioned you’re a reining rider. What level are ya?” Jo asks. “Debuted in Open a couple of months ago.”

She tries to stay modest, but a proud smile forms on Y/N’s lips anyway. Hours of practice and years of training have brought her to the highest level in reining sport. When the letter from the National Reining Horse Association came in to inform her of the promotion from Non-Pro to Open, she remembered being so excited that she ran through the house screaming high pitched and hugged her parents so tight, she almost suffocated them. It took hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, but she made it. It all paid off.

“Whoa, you must be pretty damn good then!” Jo responds, eyebrows raised, impressed. Y/N doesn’t really respond, not sure how to take the compliment. Instead, she looks down at the coffee container in her lap. “What about you?” “I’m not a reiner,” the cowgirl smiles. “I race barrel.”

Now, it’s Y/N’s turn to be fascinated. Surely, reining is an exciting discipline of horse riding, but barrel racing is a whole other ballgame. She always enjoys watching it at the rodeo. The speed, the acceleration, the tight corners around the barrels, beating the clock, every fraction of a second counting; it’s the definition of thrilling.

“What’s your PR?” she wonders. Jo looks at her sideways, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “16.1 seconds.” Y/N huffs, amazed. “That’s fast!” The ranch owner’s daughter shrugs it off. “I’ve got a very good horse.” “My grandfather taught me that a horse will never become extraordinary unless it’s matched with a skilled rider.” Jo smiles at those wise words and gazes at the road ahead.

The beams of the headlights reach out several yards in front of them. Everything beyond remains in the darkness of night. Although the rain stopped falling down on the dry and thirsty land, clouds still shield out the frail moon’s radiance. They left Metro Phoenix about ten minutes ago and Y/N can barely see what’s out there, but what she can see, captivates her. For a girl who has never been to the southwest of the US, it seems foreign, not from this planet even. A pair of tail lights glides down the straight two-lane freeway towards an invisible horizon, while a few lights on the mountains give an idea of the relief in the east. Dust, sand, and rocks alongside the road are all that she can make out, joined with tall cacti and small bushes every now and then. This is the first time she has seen a cactus in its natural habitat. She didn’t know they could grow that tall.

“You should stay away from those when you go on a trail, especially the little fluffy lookin’ ones,” Jo suggests, noticing her passenger’s amazement as she watches the cacti pass by. “There’s nothing fluffy about the damn things when you get too close. I’ve seen the most gentle and laid back horses go full bronc after running their ass into a ‘cholla’.” Y/N chuckles; she can imagine that happening. Appreciating the tip, she turns her attention back to the driver. “Any other good advice for my first day tomorrow?” She dares to ask, curious about what lies ahead. Jo smiles at her, appreciating her eagerness. The girl beside her isn’t the first rookie to ask her this. To her, it’s a sign of insecurity, one that comes along with the lack of experience.

“You didn’t do a lot of ranch work back in Maine, did ya?” she confronts. Out of balance, Y/N looks aside at the driver, then averts her gaze. The gentle expression on Jo’s face should tell her that she doesn’t intend to make her feel uncomfortable, but she can’t help herself from moving in her seat a little, lost for words. “How can you tell?” she replies shyly. “Your boots are too clean,” Jo grins, nodding at the intern’s feet.

Somewhat stunned, Y/N looks down at her shoes. Wanting to make a good impression, she polished the brown leather. Honestly, she spent more time cleaning them than she normally would before a show, but it might have been a better idea to leave them dirty. A blush warms her cheeks as she shakes her head slightly; apparently, she’s a little too eager to prove herself.

“You got me,” she admits. “You’re right, I lack experience when it comes to stable work. But I really want to learn.” Thankfully, Jo takes away the embarrassment and seems to appreciate her enthusiasm. “Don’t worry about it. We had workers who didn’t even know how to pick out a hoof, let alone ride a horse,” she reassures. “You’ll be fine. Keep your eyes and ears open, your head low and if there’s anything you need, you can always come to me.”

Slightly put to ease, Y/N smiles at her shiny boots. Jo is right; she will be okay. There is no need to be nervous about tomorrow, she’s not completely oblivious after all. And with the ranch owner’s daughter as her new ally, she feels confident enough to believe that she will manage just fine.

A moment of quietness follows as the young blonde takes the exit and directs the pickup onto Superstition Mountain Drive, leaving route 60 behind them. Soft music comes from the amplifiers, a country ballad bathing them in pleasant tunes. Despite her insecurities, Y/N feels comfortable with Jo by her side, and as she glances over at her, a future image of them becoming friends forms in her head. It doesn’t seem unlikely, not at all. Her wit, her confidence, the joy that she seems to have in everything she does; she can appreciate that.

“There is one other piece of good advice I’m gonna give ya,” Jo continues after a while. “And it’s very, very important that you stick to it.” Curious, Y/N waits for a follow-up, eager eyes on the blonde cowgirl in the driver’s seat who waits a couple more seconds, underlining the importance of her message. “Do not, under any circumstances, fall for Dean Winchester.”

A little underwhelmed, Y/N’s facial expression shifts from confused to amused. She scoffs, for a second thinking she’s joking. Jo’s dramatic build-up prepared for a line she was going to remember during the tough moments while staying at the ranch, so it’s a bit of a downer when it resulted in advice on men.

“Who’s Dean Winchester?” she asks, unimpressed. “He’s a wrangler at the ranch,” Jo enlightens her. “Also a shameless womanizer who has broken more hearts than I can count. That bastard lures gals into his bed like it’s a fucking competition. Or in the haystack, his truck, the restroom of the saloon. Whatever place he finds fit to hump somethin’.”

Y/N’s jaw drops, after which she covers her mouth to muffle her chuckle. And ten minutes ago they were talking about the weather. Well, that escalated quickly. “I’m serious,” Jo underlines, noticing the cynicism in her passenger’s laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that. That’s not what I’m here for,” she assures the ranch owner’s daughter. “That’s what most of them say,” she returns, having heard this before.

For a second Y/N observes her co-driver as questions start to buzz around in her head. What are Jo’s motives? Might there be something more behind what seems like just good advice? “Did you…? Did you ever, you know…?” Insecurity overwhelms her once again, disabling her to form a proper sentence. A little confused, Jo looks over, but at the sight of Y/N’s raised eyebrow and a subtle smile twitching at the corner of her mouth, it suddenly dawns on her what she’s getting at. “What?! Oh, hell no!” She shudders in disgust. “Christ! He’s my cousin!”

Y/N eyes grow large when she realizes what she just implied, but then Jo snorts and they both burst out in laughter. How this conversation went from climate and desert flora to sex and men puzzles her completely, but she’s sure that she just gained a friend. When both of them can talk again after another convulsion of giggles, Y/N can’t help but wonder about this wrangler with a reputation.

“What’s so special about this Dean?” Jo wipes away tears that came running down her face in the uncontrollable laughing fit she endured. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

She switches on the turning signal and turns left onto a long driveway. Fenced pastures stretch out on either side, running up towards the hills. Cows are chewing their roughage at the hayracks, but look up when the headlights of the Chevrolet captures them briefly as the car passes. Up ahead, a wooden sign arches over the road. ‘Gold Canyon Ranch’ it says in bold capital letters. The pickup surfaces from underneath the sign and proceeds up the driveway, which fans out into a square. In front of a house - which is built from sandstone and has a red-tiled roof - Jo parks the car and turns off the ignition.

Amazed by the setting, Y/N gets out of the truck and takes it in. Several buildings, all in the same architectural style, surround the square as well. The soft and easing sounds of horses rummaging around in their stables originate from a large barn to the right of the family home. Then there’s that familiar and soothing smell of the farm, although the scent that’s reaching her senses now is sharper, more earthy than she’s used to up in Maine. Then another sound draws her attention; the sound of a cheerful crowd and country songs. Y/N looks over the top of the Chevrolet and watches Jo walk over to a building complex at the other end of the square.

“Leave your suitcase. Let’s fix us a drink first.” She hints at the saloon, from where the music is coming. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the bunch.” Y/N follows in a fast stride, forking her fingers through her hair and straightening it out quickly, then she tucks her checkered blouse into her jeans, even though she just decided that she was going to leave it hanging over her belt. This is ridiculous, she scolds at herself. Why are you so nervous?

She doesn’t have time to think about it, because when she’s about to catch up with Jo, the blonde swings open the double doors and makes her entrance. The musk of hard work mixed with beer and nicotine welcomes her, mingling with the lingering heat of the day. The music shifts to a new song, the guitars and a strong beat sounding through the space. Burning stares come her way as they walk into the saloon, making her feel like she got stuck in an old spaghetti western starring Clint Eastwood. Where is that cowboy to save her now?

“Look what I found out in the rain,” Jo jokes, casually putting an arm around Y/N’s neck. “Our Yankee!” Cheers rise from the group of men, glad that they made it back. Half-empty beer bottles litter the wooden surface of the table they are seated at; it’s clear that the party has been going for a while now, eyes getting hazy and laughs roaring louder. It’s a good thing that Jo basically drags her inside, because if she had been on her own, she would have frozen on the spot.

A middle-aged woman with chestnut brown hair steps from behind the counter to meet them halfway. With a dish towel hanging over her shoulder, she approaches the new face, smiling genuinely. “Y/N, this is my mom,” Jo introduces. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Singer,” Y/N greets, humble, remembering her name from the email exchanges they had to arrange her internship. “Please, call me Ellen. Welcome. Make yourself at home, honey,” she says as her husband flanks her. “And this is my old man.” Jo pats him on the back, triggering a mutter. “I’m not that old,” he states, redirecting his attention to the new guest. “I’m Bobby. Nice to meet you. Sorry ‘bout the delay.” “Oh, that’s alright,” Y/N smiles back at him, starting to feel more at ease.

The family seems really nice, but the group of men - which Y/N assumes is the ranch crew - still curiously lurks at her. Intimidated, she lets her eyes roam through the bar, trying not to stare. At home she had her brothers to back her up, their presence alone usually enough for guys to take a step back. But yet again she becomes painfully aware of the fact that she is on her own this time.

Her eyes glide over the workers and wranglers. At the far end of the table, a guy - who she guesses to be in his late twenties - looks back at her from under his cowboy hat. He has two poker cards in one hand and nurses a bottle of beer with the other, resting his strong forearms on the edge of the wood. Emerald green eyes seem to read her like an open book, taking her in with enough confidence in his expression to compensate for what she lacks. He puts his lips against the mouth of his beer bottle and takes a swig, slowly, without breaking eye contact. Did he really take his time or did her mind just process that in slow-motion? Suddenly aware that she’s staring, Y/N looks away and focuses on Jo again, who has continued the introduction.

“This is Ash, one of our wranglers and in charge of the cattle. Don’t let the hair fool ya, he’s a pretty swell guy under all the craziness.” She walks behind him, peeking into his cards. “Wow, you really just raised with a two and a three?” The guy next to Ash shoves two piles of chips forward, flashing the bluffer a big grin. Jo has settled between the two men, smirking at Ash’s annoyed face. Resting her folded arm on his shoulder, she turns her head and now puts a hand on her neighbor’s back. “Benny Lafitte. Best farrier in Arizona. Also, a master on the ground when it comes to starting young horses.” The man with a nicely trimmed beard tips his hat at Y/N, observing her with his blue eyes for a second before the ranch owner’s daughter moves on. “Over yonder is Garth. Wrangler and our man in the stables.” She nods at the fragile built guy with dark hair, who shyly looks up and greets the newcomer. “He’s harmless, great mounted shooter by the way.”

Jo straightens her back and folds her arms in front of her chest as she turns to her cousin. He doesn’t look back, though. His eyes haven’t left the new face, who forces herself to meet his gaze. After everything that Jo told her about this guy, she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being the spectator for her discomfort and shyness. But my God, she gets why the girls swoon by the sight of him. He has great features, a few days old scruff adding to his strong jawline. Broad shoulders pull at the fabric of his jacket, his strong fingers running slowly up and down the smooth glass of the bottle. He looks like he just walked out of a Marlboro commercial, western hat and all. “And this is Dean,” Jo states simply, observing them both. As the guy in question takes another swig of his drink, he finally tears his eyes away from Y/N. The weight that was pressing on her chest is lifted and instantly she finds it easier to breathe. “What? No catchy intro for me?” he asks Jo. “Now, I know it’s hard to describe a man like me with words--” “Oh, I already described you just fine, Winchester,” she returns impudently. “Every girl about to encounter you deserves a fair warning.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that remark, not sure how to interpret the remark. His eyes flick back to Y/N again, startling her. She must have flinched, because her reaction ignites a grin. “You know us now, but what’s your name?” Dean asks, even though he is already aware. Pushing her self-consciousness out of the way, she speaks as clear as she can, not just addressing him, but the entire crew. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you all.”

When their gazes lock again, the cowboy’s smile grows a little wider and he flashes her a short and subtle wink. It’s close to unnoticeable, had she blinked she would’ve missed it, but she caught it, alright.

“Your turn, brother,” Benny calls for his attention on the game. Dean glances down at his cards once more. A pair of queens; surely he’s going along with the raise, but he doesn’t want to be obvious about his good hand. He shoves two stacks of chips forward to meet the stakes and waits for his friend’s response. Translating his expressions and possible tells, the blue-eyed wrangler stares back at him while dealer Garth unfolds the final card; a queen of hearts. Benny seems to ponder, but Dean doesn’t give him an inch.

The farrier throws in five more chips. “I raise with five hundred.” “One thousand,” Dean counters. Benny chuckles. He’s got to be bluffing, right? “Fine,” he agrees, adding five more to the pot as he throws down his cards on the table for his opponent to see. “A pair of Aces.”

A good hand indeed, but not good enough to win. Dean bites his lip, looks down at his cards, then back at the young woman that caught his eye. This time she’s prepared; Y/N doesn’t look away. All she does is stare back into those green orbs, standing her ground. Before it becomes obvious to the others in their company, Dean averts his gaze first. For Y/N it feels like a big win in this strange staring contest that started from the moment she walked in. The hand that Dean lays out on the table is his victory. Three of a kind just won him over three thousand chips. Interesting, how a queen of hearts in the last draw is the key to winning this game of cards.

“Well, shit!” Benny laughs, leaning back in his seat and admitting his defeat. “Guess the next round’s on me then.” “Let me pour you a drink, sweety,” Ellen suggests, bumping her shoulder into Y/N lightly. “You can use one after all that traveling.”

A heavy breath falls from her lips as she joins the ranch owner’s wife at the bar. Ellen isn’t wrong. Boy, she needs a drink, but not because of the long flight. The attention from Dean, him looking at her like he did; it’s unlike any attention she has ever received. It felt exciting and suffocating at the same time. Unable to truly understand what she is experiencing right now, Y/N thinks about what Jo said. The words she spoke in the car are starting to make sense now. The way this man has a grip on her since the moment she laid eyes on him, throws her off. He shouldn’t be having that effect on her, she’s not that kind of girl, after all. She’s the kind that keeps her eye on the ball and doesn’t let anything distract her. And if guys would try? She would give them a run for their money. With three brothers, Y/N learned to stand her ground in order to compete with her siblings. She developed a smart mouth and isn’t easily intimidated by men. But somehow all the lessons learned flew right out the window the moment Dean Winchester laid eyes on her.

“What are you having?” The one person who got her drowning in her thoughts settles on a stool on her right. She glances aside at Dean, who has a gentle smile on his surprisingly plump lips. “A beer would be great.” She turns to Ellen, who is waiting by the fridge for an answer. The wrangler puts up two fingers as he makes contact with his aunt behind the counter, signaling her to double it. Skillfully, she flips the caps off the bottles and hands them over. “Here ye go. On the house,” she insists, her expression gentle. “Thank you,” Y/N returns gratefully with a slight nod of the head.

As Ellen Singer leaves to join her husband, Y/N is forced to deal with the guy in the seat next to her. Conflicting emotions battle each other inside her chaotic mind. Working on this ranch is going to show her Dad that she can build a company worth his investment. It will teach her everything she needs to know about ranch work. She made an agreement with herself that she is going to use every second of her time to learn. Wasting it by fooling around with one of the wranglers does not fit in her schedule and it certainly isn’t going to deliver the message that she’s taking this internship seriously. But she cannot deny that a part of her is curious about this cowboy. He ignited a downright confusing interest, all that with a few lingering stares and a couple of words.

When she glances aside at the handsome man, elbows on the bar while holding her beer loosely by its neck, Jo moves into her peripheral vision. With a stack of plates in her hands, the blonde cowgirl enters the area behind the counter and continues to the kitchen, but not before shooting her new friend a glare that asks her what the hell she’s doing and tells her to stop it right now. Jo’s good advice fights its way to the surface and Y/N’s common sense takes over again. Dean didn’t take a seat because he likes her, he took that seat because he wants to get laid tonight.

“So--” he starts off. “Just let me get one thing straight,” Y/N interrupts, “I’m here to learn about the ranch management, not to entertain you during lonely moments. You might be able to wind any other girl around your finger, but not me, so forget it.” It’s out there before she’s able to stop herself. She doesn’t fully understand where the words came from and how she managed to gather the courage to speak up, but the harsh message is out, hovering between them and throwing her admirer off his game. Jo - who spied on them from around the corner - seems impressed and smirks, amused, before disappearing again.

She’s not the only one who is left stunned. Dean has raised his eyebrows and needs a moment to recover. “In my defense, I was gonna ask you if you were looking forward to your first day tomorrow,” he says with a chuckle, rubbing his chin. “I like to set boundaries,” she states, taking a swig of her beer. “Apparently.” Dean clears his throat, collecting himself before he speaks a little lower. “Good thing I like to break them.”

The charismatic man has turned towards her now, his hand holding the beer resting on the counter. He’s not hiding that this hard-to-get demeanor actually intrigues him more. His arrogance, on the other end, only fuels Y/N’s persistence to shut his attempt down. “It wouldn’t really be breaking boundaries if I’m just a number on the long list of girls you picked up. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a long day and tomorrow probably isn’t going to be much shorter, so I’m going to get some sleep.”

With those words, she knocks back the last of the beer and leaves the bottle on the bar. Before he can stop her, she hops off her stool. “I’ll show you the way,” Jo offers, surfacing from the backroom again. With a suppressed grin on her lips, she passes Dean, who watches the two girls walk away from him, flabbergasted.

It’s then when the puzzle pieces fall in place. That little bitch... Jo just cockblocked him! He bets his lovely cousin told all about his intermezzos with some of the women that have passed through these doors. She just ruined a perfectly good chance to get together with the new girl.

Without giving him one more second of her time, Y/N starts to walk towards the exit of the saloon, followed by Jo. “G’night, everyone.” They all reply, either with words or by waving, all but Dean. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, turning on the stool to meet his beer again. It doesn’t happen very often, but his pride has taken quite a punch. When he looked at the woman that had him do a double-take when she walked through those doors, he could have sworn he saw her react to him. Maybe you’re getting sloppy, he thinks to himself. Maybe you’re getting too old for this shit.

No, that can’t be it. Just because he’s heading towards those dreadful thirties, doesn’t mean he has to change the way he plays this game. Benny is half a decade older than him, he still lives like a bachelor and will most likely do so for the rest of his days. The intern probably has some history that causes her to act this way, a backpack full of misery; not something he wants to deal with anyway. Too complicated, at least that what he’s tries to convince himself of.

“Hey, amigo? What’s that on your face?” Ash looks over at the bar, observing the man who just got rejected. He shuffles the cards for the last game of the night. “Oh, I see it too,” Garth acknowledges, pretending to be shocked by the sight. “That doesn’t look so good.” Dean feels his cheek and casts a confused gaze at his friends as Benny starts to snigger. “That’s one ugly lookin’ red handprint that’s swelling up, man,” Ash continues.

Garth giggles, his laughter coming out in a high-pitched sniggering sound. By now Dean gets what’s going on and rolls his eyes. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these assholes. “That’s gotta hurt, Chief. Want me to get some ice for that?” Benny adds, sparkles in his bright blues. “Y’all can kiss my go-to-hell,” Dean mutters, unable to appreciate the banter.

Now all three burst out in laughter and even Bobby can’t help but join in a full belly laugh. After the fun, Benny gets up from his chair and walks over to fill the empty spot beside him. “I think this is a good thing,” he comments, his accent as gentle as Southern comfort. “It'll keep you sharp, a gal like that.” “She’s quite somethin’, isn’t she?” Dean smiles at his drink. “She ain’t easy, that’s for sure,” he agrees. “Good thing she ain’t the only lady friend in town.”

Benny redirects Dean’s eyes to a beautiful dark-haired woman at the pool table. Casey is a guest that enjoys her time at the ranch every holiday, especially since most of that time is spent with a certain wrangler. She must have arrived just now, because he didn’t notice her earlier. Or was that because his eyes and mind were too occupied by someone else? It doesn’t matter, because when Casey makes eye contact before pocketing the striped number thirteen, the sexual tension between them is already stirring up. He might not spend the night between the sheets with Y/N, but he will be satisfied by the end of the night either way.

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 three here

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