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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Welllp These Are Books: the March 2021 Edition

There aren’t even any pictures! Except in that one book where there were pictures! It was weird! This was a weird book month! Back at it again with thoughts and opinions about a whole mess of books that no one explicitly asked for, but I’ve got lots of thoughts and opinions and they only count if I share them on the internet. Seriously, someone let me go to a baseball game soon. Obligatory warning for spoilers and vaguely unhinged rants under the cut. As always, feel free to come tell me what else I should be reading at literally any time ever.

Best Book of the Month Honors Goes to This Book, Even Though They Called It Halftime at a Hockey Game. A Hockey Game!

The Dating Plan by Sara Desai

Daisy Patel is a software engineer who understands lists and logic better than bosses and boyfriends. With her life all planned out, and no interest in love, the one thing she can't give her family is the marriage they expect. Left with few options, she asks her childhood crush to be her decoy fiancé. Liam Murphy is a venture capitalist with something to prove. When he learns that his inheritance is contingent on being married, he realizes his best friend's little sister has the perfect solution to his problem. A marriage of convenience will get Daisy's matchmaking relatives off her back and fulfill the terms of his late grandfather's will. If only he hadn’t broken her tender teenage heart nine years ago… Sparks fly when Daisy and Liam go on a series of dates to legitimize their fake relationship. Too late, they realize that very little is convenient about their arrangement. History and chemistry aren't about to follow the rules of this engagement.

— Ok, it’s important to know that I really did love this book. It hit all my trope-wants. Childhood friends, incredibly stupid misunderstandings, pining, seriously God the pining, fake engagement, BANTER. It was all going great. I was occasionally swooning. They kept making out! And then! THEN. They went to a hockey game. On a date. A fake date. Cool, cool, cool. All tropes, all the time right? Not so fast, internet! Because these self-proclaimed Sharks SUPER FANS referred to intermission as “halftime was coming up.” Halftime! At a hockey game! That’s—that’s not how hockey works! If this hadn’t been “traditionally” published, I probably could have let it slide. But that was not the case. This was a “real” book with, I can only assume, real editors. All of whom saw the words halftime and hockey near each other and we’re like YEAH, PRINT THAT SHIT. I read that at nearly one in the morning and seriously considered waking Justin up to be like CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS IS IN A REAL BOOK? Anyway, it was still real cute. Everyone lived happily ever after. It made want to eat samosas.

This Book Had Pictures, It Was Weird

Clean Sweep by Ilona Andrews

On the outside, Dina Demille is the epitome of normal. She runs a quaint Victorian Bed and Breakfast in a small Texas town, owns a Shih Tzu named Beast, and is a perfect neighbor, whose biggest problem should be what to serve her guests for breakfast. But Dina is...different: Her broom is a deadly weapon; her Inn is magic and thinks for itself. Meant to be a lodging for otherworldly visitors, the only permanent guest is a retired Galactic aristocrat who can’t leave the grounds because she’s responsible for the deaths of millions and someone might shoot her on sight. Under the circumstances, "normal" is a bit of a stretch for Dina.

And now, something with wicked claws and deepwater teeth has begun to hunt at night...Feeling responsible for her neighbors, Dina decides to get involved. Before long, she has to juggle dealing with the annoyingly attractive, ex-military, new neighbor, Sean Evans—an alpha-strain werewolf—and the equally arresting cosmic vampire soldier, Arland, while trying to keep her inn and its guests safe. But the enemy she’s facing is unlike anything she’s ever encountered before. It’s smart, vicious, and lethal, and putting herself between this creature and her neighbors might just cost her everything.

— So, Ilona Andrews is a name that keeps coming up because when I borrow a book from the library I have to go through Kindle and Amazon is like...here are some other absurd fantasy romances you’d enjoy. Also, one of her other series had been recc’ed to me. Only problem? The first book in that series is the only book in that series not available at my library. So, I was like, ok, I’ll start this one instead. It was...weird. Honestly, it felt like I’d been dropped in the middle of the story and the narrator was like, well why don’t you already know what’s going on? In theory the world building was cool. (I was not expecting alien werewolves, lemme tell you that!) But also it all felt very rushed and the end just sorta happened.

In Which I Continue to Love “Same Verse” Books & No One Else Had Sex in the Port Jeff High School Dugout. For Which I Was Grateful

Love Her or Lose Her by Tessa Bailey

Rosie and Dominic Vega are the perfect couple: high school sweethearts, best friends, madly in love. Well, they used to be anyway. Now Rosie’s lucky to get a caveman grunt from the ex-soldier every time she walks in the door. Dom is faithful and a great provider, but the man she fell in love with ten years ago is nowhere to be found. When her girlfriends encourage Rosie to demand more out of life and pursue her dream of opening a restaurant, she decides to demand more out of love, too. Three words: marriage boot camp.

Never in a million years did Rosie believe her stoic, too-manly-to-emote husband would actually agree to relationship rehab with a weed-smoking hippie. Dom talking about feelings? Sitting on pillows? Communing with nature? Learning love languages? Nope. But to her surprise, he’s all in, and it forces her to admit her own role in their cracked foundation. As they complete one ridiculous—yet surprisingly helpful—assignment after another, their remodeled relationship gets stronger than ever. Except just as they’re getting back on track, Rosie discovers Dom has a secret... and it could demolish everything.

— Listen, one of my absolutely favorite tropes that I do not think gets enough love in the world is COMMITTED LONG-LASTING RELATIONSHIPS. And, like, ok, sure the premise of this was that they were separating in that long-lasting relationship. But no one really believed that, did they? Rosie and Dominic were real cute and their banter was good and I wasn’t totally skeeved out when they literally fucked on the kitchen floor. So, I think that’s saying something. Also, also! I seriously appreciated the realism of this book because no one on Long Island would ever call Manhattan Manhattan. It’s the city. Every other borough gets a name, but Manhattan is just the city and I nearly cheered when they said that. But also, no one’s taking a cab from Port Jeff to the Meatpacking District. You know what that would cost? God.

Tools of Engagement by Tessa Bailey

Hair, makeup, clothing, decor... everything in Bethany Castle's world is organized, planned, and styled to perfection. Which is why the homes she designs for her family's real estate business are the most coveted in town. The only thing not perfect? Her track record with men. She's on a dating hiatus and after helping her friends achieve their dreams, Bethany finally has time to focus on her own: flip a house, from framework to furnishings, all by herself. Except her older brother runs the company and refuses to take her seriously.

When a television producer gets wind of the Castle sibling rivalry, they’re invited on Flip Off, a competition to see who can do the best renovation. Bethany wants bragging rights, but she needs a crew and the only member of her brother's construction team willing to jump ship is Wes Daniels, the new guy in town. His Texas drawl and handsome face got under Bethany's skin on day one, and the last thing she needs is some cocky young cowboy in her way.

As the race to renovate heats up, Wes and Bethany are forced into close quarters, trading barbs and biting banter as they remodel the ugliest house on the block. It's a labor of love, hate, and everything in between, and soon sparks are flying. But Bethany's perfectly structured life is one kiss away from going up in smoke and she knows falling for a guy like Wes would be a flipping disaster.

— It should first be noted that in the three books of this series, I could not and cannot understand why Bethany’s brother was such a monumental dick. He was just...he was a dick. His marriage was awful. How long was his wife pregnant without him knowing???? I digress. This continued to be cute, Bethany was a legit heroine as far as those rom-com things go, Wes was very Texas and that got a little over the top, but they had sex in a bed like normal people so that helped. Oh, except that one time on the construction site. Whatever, this book was cute. This whole series was cute, really, and I was a big fan of the happy little wrap-everything-up with a bow ending.

Romance That Happens In Point Two Seconds Is...Unbelievable

Too Hot to Handle by Tessa Bailey

The road trip was definitely a bad idea. Having already flambéed her culinary career beyond recognition, Rita Clarkson is now stranded in God-Knows-Where, New Mexico, with a busted-ass car and her three temperamental siblings, who she hasn't seen in years. When rescue shows up---six-feet-plus of hot, charming sex on a motorcycle---Rita's pretty certain she's gone from the frying pan right into the fire . . . Jasper Ellis has a bad boy reputation in this town, and he loathes it. The moment he sees Rita, though, Jasper knows he's about to be sorely tempted. There's something real between them. Something raw. And Jasper has only a few days to show Rita that he isn't just for tonight---he's forever.

— For as much as I loved the Port Jeff series by my new pal Tessa, this one was...oof. Too much, guys. Too much. Fucking in trucks. Fucking in back offices. The whole book lasted, like, three days. And keep in mind this is coming from someone who has written like two million words about Killian Jones, self-loathing champ 250 years running, but Jasper’s self-loathing was a little over the top. Like, let’s not objectify dudes, but also...I don’t know guys. Maybe the other books in the series are better? I was mostly just annoyed by Rita.

What the Hell Happened at the End of This Book?? Seriously, I Have No Idea

The Queen’s Assassin by Melissa de la Cruz

Caledon Holt is the kingdom's deadliest weapon. No one alive can best him in speed, strength, or brains, which is why he's the Hearthstone Guild's most dangerous member. Cal is also the Queen's Assassin, bound to her by magic and unable to leave her service until the task she's set for him is fulfilled. Shadow of the Honey Glade has been training all her life to join the Guild, hoping that one day she'll become an assassin as feared and revered as Cal. But Shadow's mother and aunts expect her to serve the crown as a lady of the Renovian Court. When a surprise attack brings Shadow and Cal together, they're forced to team up as assassin and apprentice. Even though Shadow's life belongs to the court and Cal's belongs to the queen, they cannot deny their attraction to each other. But now, with war on the horizon and true love at risk, Shadow and Cal will uncover a shocking web of lies that will change their paths forever.

—WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED AT THE END OF THIS BOOK??? I figured out the so-called twist like...two chapters in. Fine, ok, whatever. It’s YA, this is not rocket science and I was interested enough in Cale and Shadow to see how it all played out. Only it didn’t really play out! Because the whole end was just this like four chapter retcon of basically EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HAPPENED and I genuinely could not believe it was happening. It didn’t make sense?!? Like with the plot? Also, spoiler, good thing Shadow and the other king haven’t consummated their marriage yet since she and Cale totally fucked after her wedding? What is YA? Why is Amazon telling me this is a Teacher’s Pick? Why hasn’t my hold come through on the sequel yet so I know what happens next?

Low-Stakes Romance Was Real Boring and All The People Were Boring In It

The Ten Rules for Faking It by Sophie Sullivan

As birthdays go, this year’s for radio producer Everly Dean hit rock-bottom. Worse than the “tonsillectomy birthday.” Worse than the birthday her parents decided to split (the first time). But catching your boyfriend cheating on you with his assistant? Even clichés sting. But this is Everly’s year! She won’t let her anxiety hold her back. She’ll pitch her podcast idea to her boss. There’s just one problem. Her boss, Chris, is very cute. (Of course). Also, he's extremely distant (which means he hates her, right? Or is that the anxiety talking)? And, Stacey the DJ didn’t mute the mic during Everly’s rant about Simon the Snake (syn: Cheating Ex). That’s three problems. Suddenly, people are lining up to date her, Bachelorette-style, fans are voting (Reminder: never leave house again), and her interest in Chris might be a two-way street. It’s a lot for a woman who could gold medal in people-avoidance. She’s going to have to fake it ‘till she makes it to get through all of this. Perhaps she’ll make a list: The Ten Rules for Faking It.

— I am a broken record. Shouting. From the highest hilltop. Just because you think someone is cute when you’re technically not supposed to be dating them does not mean you get to be anything less than nice around them! It’s not cute! And part two, which often goes with part one: rom com dudes have GOT to stop lying or hiding or otherwise avoiding telling people who they really are. It’s a convoluted, passably lazy way of writing and dropping a third-act bomb on the story. Don’t do it. Stop doing it. We’ve moved past the need for hidden identities. Unless he’s, like, a spy or something. Um...this was a weird book. I know Everly had anxiety and that became a PLOT POINT, patent pending, but she was also not super relatable? Which is crazy considering my very real, rather undiagnosed anxiety. Chris was boring. The whole plot, as this title suggests, was very low stakes and no one actually seemed to remember that their jobs were ever on the line? Did Everly and Chris have a conversation before they decided they liked each other? Who can say, really.

Shipped by Angie Hockman

Between taking night classes for her MBA and her demanding day job at a cruise line, marketing manager Henley Evans barely has time for herself, let alone family, friends, or dating. But when she’s shortlisted for the promotion of her dreams, all her sacrifices finally seem worth it. The only problem? Graeme Crawford-Collins, the remote social media manager and the bane of her existence, is also up for the position. Although they’ve never met in person, their epic email battles are the stuff of office legend. Their boss tasks each of them with drafting a proposal on how to boost bookings in the Galápagos—best proposal wins the promotion. There’s just one catch: they have to go on a company cruise to the Galápagos Islands...together. But when the two meet on the ship, Henley is shocked to discover that the real Graeme is nothing like she imagined. As they explore the Islands together, she soon finds the line between loathing and liking thinner than a postcard. With her career dreams in her sights and a growing attraction to the competition, Henley begins questioning her life choices. Because what’s the point of working all the time if you never actually live?

— YOU NEED TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH SOMEONE TO DECIDE YOU LIKE THEM. AUTHORS REALLY REALLY NEED TO LEARN HOW TO BUILD ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS. IF THEY ONLY LIKE EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY KISS WELL IT’S NOT A GOOD RELATIONSHIP. AND THIS IS COMING FROM ME. Back at it again with the annoying so-called heroine who was just...occasionally real mean to Graem for no reason at all? Also her name was Henley. Which is not a great reason to dislike her, but here we are.

Apparently I Read These Books Out Of Order. Who Knew?

Pride, Prejudice and Other Flavors by Sonali Dev

It is a truth universally acknowledged that only in an overachieving Indian American family can a genius daughter be considered a black sheep.

Dr. Trisha Raje is San Francisco’s most acclaimed neurosurgeon. But that’s not enough for the Rajes, her influential immigrant family who’s achieved power by making its own non-negotiable rules:

· Never trust an outsider

· Never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s political aspirations

· And never, ever, defy your family

Trisha is guilty of breaking all three rules. But now she has a chance to redeem herself. So long as she doesn’t repeat old mistakes.

Up-and-coming chef DJ Caine has known people like Trisha before, people who judge him by his rough beginnings and place pedigree above character. He needs the lucrative job the Rajes offer, but he values his pride too much to indulge Trisha’s arrogance. And then he discovers that she’s the only surgeon who can save his sister’s life.

As the two clash, their assumptions crumble like the spun sugar on one of DJ’s stunning desserts. But before a future can be savored there’s a past to be reckoned with...

A family trying to build home in a new land.

A man who has never felt at home anywhere.

And a choice to be made between the two.

— Surprise, apparently this was the first book in the series. I did not know. It didn’t affect my enjoyment of the Persuasion version in this same ‘verse, which is also strange because I liked the Persuasion one way better. There was a lot of medical in this. And not super uplifting medical, either. This was like...oh the Jane character (I guess???) has cancer and either she’s going to go blind after having a surgery (also she was an artist, so you see how this was a problem) or she’s just going to decide to die. Wait, what? That came out of left field, really. Also DJ and Trisha were not nice to each other. Like, I know this is Pride and Prejudice so there has to be some of that at the start, but it wasn’t like Trisha ever really went through the Darcy-required time at Pemberly. She just decided she liked DJ and told him and it was as awkward as Jane Austen intended it, but then we got more medical and everything was cool. It felt very rushed and shoehorned into a modern setting and the Persuasion one was better. You can’t have Darcy’s growth without the Pemberly stuff. You just can’t.

In Which I Didn’t Like a Nickname??? Is the World Ending??

Crazy Stupid Bromance by Lyssa Kay Adams

Alexis Carlisle and her cat café, ToeBeans, have shot to fame after she came forward as a victim of a celebrity chef’s sexual harassment. When a new customer approaches to confide in her, the last thing Alexis expects is for the woman to claim they’re sisters. Unsure what to do, Alexis turns to the only man she trusts—her best friend, Noah Logan. Computer genius Noah left his rebellious teenage hacker past behind to become a computer security expert. Now he only uses his old skills for the right cause. But Noah’s got a secret: He’s madly in love with Alexis. When she asks for his help, he wonders if the timing will ever be right to confess his crush. Noah’s pals in The Bromance Book Club are more than willing to share their beloved “manuals” to help him go from bud to boyfriend. But he must decide if telling the truth is worth risking the best friendship he’s ever had.

— If Noah was going to call her Lexa, then her name should have been Alexa and not Alexis. That’s it and that’s all. Also, the story was n u t s. Estranged dads and kidney failure and they got together so fast in this book. Which usually is cool by me, but I really could not get over the nickname and the estranged family was mean to Alexis. Lexa. HER NAME SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALEXA, IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Also Noah was a former hacker? The estranged family accused him corporate espionage or something? A lot happened in this book, guys. Her name should have been Alexa.

Dumb Brother Was Dumb™ Everyone Else Was Real Cute

The Off Limits Rule by Sarah Adams

I have found rock bottom. It's here, moving in with my older brother because I'm too broke to afford to live on my own. It's okay though, because we've always been close and I think I'm going to have fun living with him again.   That is until I meet Cooper...   Turns out, my brother has very strong opinions on the idea of me dating his best friend and is dead set against it. According to him, Cooper is everything I should stay away from: flirtatious, adventurous, non-committal, and freaking hot. (I added that last part because I feel like you need the whole picture.) My brother is right--I should stay away from Cooper James and his pretty blue eyes. He's the opposite of what I need right now.   Nah--who am I kidding? I'm going for it.

— This was cute, mostly mindless fluff. Hit some trope high points, including, obviously, best friends sister. Only the brother in question was a Neanderthal and I really thought people were going to make out more while said brother was on his business trip. I got it for free off Amazon. Which I think should explain a lot. Like, story-wise. Sorry, free Amazon books. Don’t be insulted.

Prose, Prose, Prose, Please Someone Have a Conversation

Trick by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Spring, Poet is renowned. He's young and pretty, a lover of men and women. He performs for the court, kisses like a scoundrel, and mocks with a silver tongue. Yet allow him this: It's only the most cunning and manipulative soul who can play the fool. For beyond the castle walls, Poet guards a secret. One the Crown would shackle him for. One that he'll risk everything to protect. Alas, it will take more than clever words to deceive Princess Briar. Convinced that he's juggling lies as well as verse, this righteous nuisance of a girl is determined to expose him. But not all falsehoods are fiendish. Poet's secret is delicate, binding the jester and princess in an unlikely alliance—and kindling a breathless attraction, as alluring as it is forbidden.

— The purplest of prose. Mauve prose. Royal purple prose. Lavender prose. There was so much writing here. So much. Too much, some might say. I say. Actually. If we want to get specific. And that was a shame, really, because when Briar and Poet actually had a conversation, they were interesting to read about. Also, the world building here? Yeeeesh. The so-called, wait for it, FOOL TRADE played a prominent role and that was...super cringe. Super Cringe. That being said, I asked Justin what I should read next and he thought it was funny that a book was just called...

Dare by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Summer, they say she's wild. Locked in a cage by the sea, Flare dreams of escape. She dreams of a lost world, known only in legends. The island is calling to her. And she won't let anyone keep her from it. Especially not him. They say he's cruel. Jeryn has crossed the ocean for the Trade, to bargain for those fierce, imprisoned creatures that make his skin crawl. By law, they're subjects meant for experimentation. And easy to despise. One girl in particular. But on the cusp of transport, the tide rages. That hidden island awaits. Stranded, the prince and prisoner must fight to survive. In a mysterious rainforest, they must band together...if they don't slay one another first. Or become something more to each other. Something just as dangerous.

— This was Justin’s fault. He could not believe this book was just called Dare. It should have been called “We’re going to weirdly force what is basically slavery into this story and then a prince is going to fall in love with an escaped slave and we’re also going to call that ROMANCE.” y i k e s. Remember that one story that took place over three days? This was the complete opposite. Years! They were shipwrecked for years! They got saved, spoilers, the DAY they started having sex. What are the odds, right?? And then MORE YEARS passed. Multiple years! Five years! They couldn’t actually be together because of that aforementioned slave trade. What the shit, man? Natalia, ya gotta be kidding me with this. The internet claimed Trick was good and a solid follow to reading ACOTAR and that there was this whole verse and it was also good. The internet was wrong.

Nothing Happened, Everything Happened, I...Hated It

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Kristin Cashore’s bestselling, award-winning fantasy Graceling tells the story of the vulnerable-yet-strong Katsa, a smart, beautiful teenager who lives in a world where selected people are given a Grace, a special talent that can be anything from dancing to swimming. Katsa’s is killing. As the king’s niece, she is forced to use her extreme skills as his thug. Along the way, Katsa must learn to decipher the true nature of her Grace… and how to put it to good use. A thrilling, action-packed fantasy adventure (and steamy romance!) that will resonate deeply with adolescents trying to find their way in the world.

— I can’t believe this was a book. Katsa was so annoying! Like, listen, I know her life was sad. And she was a pawn being used against her will. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. The tone of the whole book was so strangely formal and Poe was strangely in love with Katsa? Who obviously didn’t want to get married because she was WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR. Or kill people, as the case may be. Only she wanted to make out with Poe? Only ONLY they didn’t even really get together at the end? I could not believe the end of this book. I nearly threw my Kindle across the room. Once again, no apologies for spoilers because do not read this book, but HE WAS BLIND? Katsa had to leave him behind to save his cousin and he just ENDED UP BEING BLIND? AND THEY NEVER GOT TOGETHER REALLY?? What the fuck? Seriously. Steamy romance, my ass. Nothing happened. The villain got defeated in point two seconds. There are other books in this universe? No, thanks.

#book recommendations #book rec #fantasy recommendations #book recs #laura reads books #this was longer than i realized it was going to be #documentation of a very weird book month #but we're almost back on track now because i am LOVING a darker shade of magic #welllp these are books

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harrybabystyles · 4 years

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Oh, Angel! (harry styles)

chapter one - m a s t e r l i s t -

warnings: sex, language and drinking

a/n: my first series, yay! I swear the chapters get better after this one lol, and I realize that I am not the best at smut so bear with me, also the gif below is what I imagined him looking like for this chapter :)

series intro: After a rough week, Anna decides to let loose with her friends, go out drinking and dancing, maybe even let a stranger take her home. She was starting to lose all hope when suddenly she runs into an angel -or so she thought- who actually turns out to be a tall, curly headed man with a thick accent, making her stomach twist in knots. When he asks to buy her a drink, she doesn’t hesitate to agree, how could she resist?

It was hot, and dense, like every other club I suppose, not quite suffocating, but close. Especially with the dozens of people packed in the small space, heated kisses being shared in corners and sweaty dancing happening practically everywhere you looked.

Normal for a Friday night, especially with the music fest happening only a few blocks away. After the concerts were over, the after parties seemed to always be carried here. Which, I wasn’t opposed to I guess, it happens every year, but the number of bodies increased ten fold, and this was my favorite club.

My friends were always thrilled by it, it provided more options if one of them were feeling risky and wanted to find themselves under the sheets with a stranger, which they usually were. Matter of fact, I think I see Evelyn slipping through the front door, her arm wrapped around a burly man with dreadlocks draping down his back. I smile, she always found her a man within the hour.

I wasn’t much of the ‘take a guy home every weekend’ kind of girl, I did it every once and a while, but frankly, I preferred to be alone.

However, tonight was not the night.

Between being fired earlier this week, and finding out that my sister was moving across the world at the end of the month and there was nothing I could do about it, I needed a distraction, and I decided that taking a stranger to bed was the drug I needed.

So, when I was getting ready for tonight, I went straight to the back of my closet and grabbed the tight black dress I wore only for occasions like these.

Was it a little too revealing? Probably, but I didn’t really give a shit to be honest, I knew the kind of attention I wanted, and I also knew how to dress to get it. My friends squealed when I hopped into the cab, like they always did when I wore this dress, they know what it means. By now we had all broken off, I went to grab more drinks, and since I saw Evelyn leave, I’m guessing that Harper is probably rubbing up on some helpless soul.

Harper is something else, always hooking up with whomever she pleases, whether its the bartender from downstairs or the girl with the shaved head and face tattoos, she can have almost anybody under her spell within minutes.

But then there is Paige, she grew up on a farm out in Georgia, her christian mother was brought to tears when she told her she was leaving her southern life. She tends to get wild for the first hour or so, choking down a few drinks, but then she sits in the corner the rest of the night, and sips at a glass of water. Sometimes I don’t understand why she doesn’t let herself go more, but her modest dresses always stay puke free, so I guess that’s a plus, and she can take care of us in the morning when our heads our threatening to pound us out of existence.

Bless her soul.

I’m pretty sure her parents would die on the spot if ever they found out she shared an apartment with Harper, or that we go out to drink almost every week. She enjoys the freedom, and the adrenaline of knowing her parents would drop dead if they ever found out, but even if she denies it, she actually doesn't like drinking that much.

I should probably check on her actually.

I step out of my place in line, the massive amount of bodies made getting drinks take ten years instead of ten seconds, and it wasn’t worth it anyways, it was getting late and I needed to pick out my target. I steady myself against the somewhat sticky railing, as my head spins a bit. I was always one the be able to hold my alcohol, but I certainly had a few more than I usually would tonight. My eyes landed on Paige, right where she always was this late at night, tucked into a corner, eyes scanning her phone, a half empty glass of water in her hands. I make my way over to her, but my phone buzzes in my purse and as I reach down to get it my body clashes into something hard, and before I know it I feel my body slam against the floor, and a weight crash on top of me.

I blink, focusing on a pair of pale green eyes.

My eyes grace over defined cheek bones, brown furrowed brows, a halo of dense curls bouncing around a defined face, and a pair of rosy lips, that made me subconsciously wet my own.

Then, my eyes focus back on the striking green in front of me.

I must have died, and this is an angel carrying me to my mansion of clouds, because there is no way this is real.

But then my senses come back, the pounding of the music fills my ears, the smell of alcohol and sweat consumes my nose, and the feeling of the sticky floor under me makes me shift.

I feel like my soul left my body.

I look around noticing how the man caught himself just before he completely crushed me, his hands on either side of my head.

Damn his reflexes are fast, and I can’t help but heat up at the feeling of his body weighing down on me, his hips flush with my own.

“Uh...I’m so sorry” he faintly chuckles, the smell of alcohol on his breath slightly stinking my nose, his breath hot against my face from hot close we are.

“Are you okay?” he asks, getting back on his feet in a wobbly manor, and offering a hand out to me, which I take and he pulls me to my feet.

“Yeah...” I breath, still trying to pull myself together, “...are you?”

“Yeah...” he runs a hand through his thick curls, and looks down at his chest, “...damn” he whispers, and I notice the wet fabric of his dress shirt stained with whatever drink he was carrying, which leads me to notice the glass that is now on the ground, and the sticky substance that drenched the left side of my chest.

“Oh damn, me too” I look down at the darker fabric of my dress where the drink had spilled, “I’m so sorry”

He gives a light hearted chuckle and looks up at where I’m helplessly trying to clean off the thick alcohol.

“Here” he smiles, and motions his head to follow me. I take in his tall figure as I follow close behind him, and how his thick curls swayed when he would turn to look back at me, I gave him a small smile, and he would return it with a breath hitching one.

I’m still not convinced this is actually real.

And if it is real, there is no way I’m letting him out of my grasp, he was drop dead gorgeous, even covered in sticky alcohol. He leads me back down the stairs and into the women's bathroom, to which he got several confused glances and a small laugh from me.

He rips paper towels from off the dispenser, and puts them under the running water of the sink. He wrings them out, and I watch as the muscles in his ring clad hands flex, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man wear so many rings... it’s actually really attractive.

“Here” he hands me a damp paper towel, “Sorry again”

With the loud music of the club muffled behind the bathroom door, I notice his heavy accent, and butterflies can’t help but stir in my stomach.

“You from the UK?” I ask in shock of the accent that was hidden under the music. He flashes a smile, starting to wipe off his shirt, “Yeah, I’m from Cheshire” he shrugs, and I start to wipe of my shoulder where the stench of alcohol was radiating profusely.

“Huh” I reply, amused and baffled at the same time.

“What? You never met someone from the UK before?” he questions me with a smirk, and my heart skips just a tad at the dimple that pokes into his face.

“No, actually, and I definitely have never knocked over someone from the UK before” I say playfully, watching as he lets out a head spinning chuckle.

“Its a first” I shrug.

I feel him look up, a small laugh leaving his lips, and I smile when I slip down the strap of my dress, to wipe away the alcohol from my collar bone, and his whole body freezes.

“What?” I smirk, looking up to find him jolt back into action, trying to hide his pause in motion, his eyes settling back onto his dress shirt.

“Nothing” he shrugs, but he smirks again, and my eyes settle to where the white fabric of his shirt, due to the spill, clung to his torso, and my breath hitches at the taut muscles underneath.

Fuck, he really is flawless.

My eyes go wide when he starts to unbutton his shirt, and my brows drop in confusion.

“Oh, you don’t mind if I take this off...do you?” He looks me straight in the eyes, and the devilish smirk that pulls up on his lips makes those butterflies in my stomach begin to take of.

Is he teasing me?

I take a deep breath in, “Of course not”

I try not to watch as his fingers gracefully slip each button out of there holes, but I find myself struggling to keep my eyes away.Then, the door hits the tiled wall, and a husky voice echoes through the room.

“No sex in the bathrooms, you both need to leave immediately” a built security guard looks between us, his face stern and gaze serious.

“Oh no, we aren’t...” I laugh at his hilarious assumption, but I look at how my dress strap is slipped down below my shoulder, and how his shirt is unbuttoned all the way down, exposing his toned chest and his...tattoos?

Are those tattoos?

My eyes settle on a inked butterfly just below his chest, and flip shamelessly down to where dark leaves poke out from under his trousers, a slick black belt and the fabric of his trousers block the rest of the ink from my view.

Oh damn.

“Sorry, we will take our business elsewhere” his accented voice interrupts, and I blush when I realize I am staring at his torso, and that he has noticed, giving me a smug grin. My teeth bite down on my lower lip as my cheeks heat up.

I pull the strap back over my shoulder, and he buttons up his shirt again, leaving several open like before, and we squeeze past the security, tossing our paper towels in the bin on the way out.

“Who do you think snitched on us?” his voice rings in my ear, and I now notice the presence of his hand grazing my lower back.

I giggle, “My bet is on the brown bob” I refer to a women with a short bobbed cut I noticed on our way in, “She was definitely glaring at us when we walked in” I play along, not telling him that she was the only face I even remembered from when we walked in, and he smiles.

“I agree” he replies, and he takes in a breath, his eyes momentarily glancing down to my lips, and those butterflies reappear in my tummy.

“I’m sorry about your dress” he starts, pointing to where the strong smell of alcohol still soaked my chest, “If you’d like I’ll buy you a new one”

My eyebrows shoot up at his offer, “Oh, don’t worry about it, it was worth nothing”

Which was a lie, it wasn’t worth a lot, but it was still the most expensive thing in my closet.

“Well then at least let me buy you a drink” he insists, clapping his hands together, eyes scanning my face.

I try to make it look as if I’m really struggling to give him an answer, like I want to but I’m not sure if I should, even though I already knew my answer.

“Sure” I agree, but a sudden scream catches our attention, and my eyes snap to our right where two girls are being held back by what looks like security guards, only they wore slick black suits instead of T-shirts.

A sudden ghostly touch from his fingers on my shoulder turns my attention back towards him, “Wanna go somewhere a little quieter?” he asks scratching the back of his neck like he is suddenly uncomfortable, leaning forward just a tad.

“Only if you tell me your name” I tease, raising my eyebrows at him in a playful manner.

“Of course...” he covers his face with his hands like he is embarrassed, “I’m Harry” he holds out his right hand, “Excuse my manners”

“Hi Harry, I’m Anna” I shake his hand, and notice how much larger his was compared to mine.

This man has no flaws, whatsoever.

“Pleasure to run into you, Anna...” he pauses for a moment and leans in , “...literally”

I giggle and nudge his shoulder playfully, “Pleasure is all mine” I say back, putting a hand over my heart dramatically, to which he chuckles, and we start to walk towards the front door, his hand placed on my lower back as we weave through the crowd.

The night air feels cold and brisk in my lungs, but it’s such a relief and I take in a deep breath, smelling the scent of rain, and cherishing the fresh oxygen.

“Shall we?” he calls, holding out his arm for me to take, and I stumble a bit walking over to him, most likely due to the alcohol and the heels I’m in.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask playfully, but genuinely curious, and he keeps his eyes glued in front of us, but leans over, a smile on his face.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out”

I scrunch my nose, pouting at him, “Fine”

I look ahead of us and notice both sides of the street are lined with cars, and as we continue to walk, I find that the line keeps going for several more blocks.

Damn, I guess my favorite club just turned into a block buster.

“Here we are” he breaks the silence, reaching in his pockets to grab a set of keys, unlocking an old 1966 Mustang, my eyebrows raise.

“Nice ride” I comment, as he opens the passenger door for me, and gently shuts it, walking over to hop in the drivers side.

“Thank you” he gives me a smile, starting up the engine, his eyes linger on mine for a moment, flashing back down to my lips before focusing on putting the car in drive, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

I lean towards the window, watching giddily as we pass building after building, traveling through several traffic lights before pulling off the road into a parking garage.

As we climb the levels, his old car somewhat struggling with each steep turn, my eyes land on him again, taking in his side profile.

Perfect forehead, nose, chin, neck, not to mention that sharp ass jawline he has got.

He really is perfect, isn’t he?

He must have noticed my gaze because he grins, that perfect dimple flashing as he glances at me from the side.

I blush and look back out towards the window, how the hell did I get this lucky?

We hardly speak as we step out of the car, and walk through a glass overpass that lead to the apartment building across a dark alleyway, we only exchange small smiles, his hand hardly leaving the small of my back the whole time.

Walking through the doors of the apartment building, my jaw drops.

Between the red velvet sofas, and the gold detailing on the roof, the room looked like the inside of a palace, with painted ceilings and a small fountain in the center.

This wasn’t even the main floor.

I manage to close my lips, as he leads me towards the elevators, waving to several hotel staff workers, and giving the button number of his floor a gentle push as we step in. I was still in awe at the beauty of the place to even tear my eyes away, and even as the doors slowly shut, my eyes still wandered around the room.

Who is this guy?

When the doors did shut, I managed to let out a breathless “Whoa” from my lips, smiling up at him.

“Impressed?” he questions, and I couldn't help but pick up on the subtle gravel that laced his voice, and how it made those butterflies in my tummy reappear ten fold.

“Definitely” I breath, crossing my hands in front of my hips, still gripping my handbag. His lips turn up in a small smile, “I’m glad”

I catch his dense green eyes again, but this time there is something flashing behind them, a shade of sparking desire perhaps?

I hoped so.

His eyes don’t leave, and neither do mine as the moment drags on, making my tummy catch on fire as his gaze burns further into me.

Holy shit, it was almost intimidating.

I became suddenly restless, biting the inside of my cheek, and fidgeting with my fingers, I felt like I suddenly stepped out into the desert, my body temperature rising alarmingly.

I felt like I had a fever.

His eyes tear away when the silver doors of the elevator glide open, and we shuffle out into the hall.

“This way” he guides, pointing to the right where a gorgeous hallway with only a few doors extended in front of us, and his hand settles back down on my back. As we walk I notice how far apart the rooms are spread out, and realize how big the apartments must be.

We stop at the second door, and he grabs the keys from his pocket and unlocks it, swinging open the door so that I can walk in first.

When the lights come on, I’m blown away.

Crisp walls enclose the space, a marble countered kitchen to my right opening up to a living room larger than my own apartment, with a huge TV mounted on the far wall, and dark grey sofas that surrounded a sleek glass coffee table. My heels click gently on the wooden floor as I mindlessly walk towards the floor to ceiling windows, the city stretching out like a sea of stars.

I was entranced, the glowing white and yellow hues twinkling in the dark night.

New York never looked so alive, but at the same time, it was the most peaceful I’ve ever see the city be. You couldn’t hear the honking cars, bumping music, or loud profanities you usually couldn't get away from, just the shuffling of my heels as they hit carpet.

The city below looked endless, with miles of soft blinking lights.

It looked heavenly.

For once it didn't seem like the dirty city it was, crime and poverty seeming to wash away under the gentle glow of apartment buildings and offices, which made a streak of hope tug at my heart, and I absentmindedly put my hand against the cool surface of the glass.

I could feel the tears that rimmed my lashes, not falling, just letting me know they’re there, as my eyes continued to scan the scene.

It was surreal to see the city like this, peaceful and elegant, like it was a place for angels.

Even the red neon of the strip club down the street or the subtle blue of a raging bar seemed innocent, just another glowing light for my eyes to soak in. Just another stroke of the painting that was being etched behind my eyes.

And for a moment I forgot I was some girl who was jobless, standing in a strangers apartment in my not so innocent black dress, looking for a distraction from life. So, I tear my eyes away from the glass, blinking back the tears that rimmed my lashes, I found his eyes looking at me with an amused smile, pouring alcohol into two glasses.

“Tequila?” he asks, lifting his brows.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling embarrassed at how emotional I got at the scene, “Please”

He puts a lime wedge on the rims of the glasses and walks over to me at the windows, a small smile on his lips, but it drops and his brows furrow as he gets closer.He sets the glasses carefully on the coffee table rushing to me with concern.

“Are you okay?” he places his hands on my shoulders sliding his hands slowing down my arms in a comforting manner, his eyes flicking between my own.

I can’t help but inhale sharply at the touch of his skin, or the warmth of his chest that was now only a few inches away.

“Yeah...” I breath, heat flushing my cheeks at the realization of him seeing my teary eyes, “...the view” I explain vaguely, gesturing towards the windows beside us, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Oh...” he takes a moment to look out, a smile forming on his lips, “...heavenly, isn’t it?”

I nod, following his gaze back out to the open city, “Breathtaking”

“Don’t worry, I cried the first night I stayed here” his warmth leaves as he grabs the drinks from the table and hands one to me.

“You did?” I ask, shocked that he is telling me this, most guys would keep something like that like it was their darkest secret.

“Like a baby” he adds taking a sip from his glass, and I raise my eyebrows, letting out a shocked breath.

“What? Guys can’t cry too?” he sounds offended, but the playful look on his face tells me that he is just messing around.

“No, no, I just...most guys don’t feel like that, they feel like it makes them less of a man” I explain, taking a sip of my drink, feeling the thick liquid sting as it glides down my throat.

“Crying is manly” he shrugs, taking another sip, and I can’t help but let out a laugh.

“Exactly!” I agree, still half laughing.

A smile lights up his face, “So, Anna...” he lowers his voice, and a shiver falls down my spins at the sound of my name accented on his lips, and I tried to hide the feeling as it shimmers through me.

“...tell me something about yourself” his eyes glaze over with that same look from the elevator, dark and swirling, that makes me want to catch on fire as the back of his fingers ghost down my left arm, sending more chills spiking through me.

He brings his hand up to brush my hair off of my shoulder and behind my back, leaning in so that his breath is fanning over my ear, “Something no one else knows” he adds in a low whisper, before brushing a piece of hair behind my ear and leaning away, a devilish smirk of his face.

I take a deep breath in, realizing I wasn’t breathing, and shamelessly look from his eyes down to his lips and back up again.

“Well...” I begin, watching as he takes another sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact, “...I do this thing, when I can’t sleep, where I sneak up to the roof of my apartment building, and I try to see the stars”

His lips tug up into a smile, and his eyes dance over me, I can tell he is intrigued by my answer, and I can see the curiosity flourish inside of him.

“What about you, Harry from Cheshire, what do you do when you can’t sleep?” I drag out my words, my voice a notch above a whisper, and I take another sip from my drink, watching as he thinks.

“Meditate” he smiles, and I quirk a brow at him, “I’m just kidding” he chuckles.

“I typically take a bath...” he answers confidently, “...simple but effective” he shrugs.

I laugh quietly at his answer, taking another sip, “Maybe I’ll try that sometime”

His eyes glance down over my body shamelessly, making my spine tingle as they travel back up to my eyes, and my heart jumps at the contact.

Inside the dense green, I can see it, all the lust and desire that is stirring up inside of him, and it makes me want to be lit on fire, heat spreads through every limb as we hold the contact, and when his fingers graze my arm, the heat of his skin mixed with the cool metal of his rings send fireworks exploding within me.

“I like your dress by the way...” he whispers, his voice low and thick, “...fits you flawlessly”

My breath hitches in my throat as my heart starts hammering, oh boy he is good.

I set down my drink, game on.

“Thank you...I’m still so sorry about your shirt...looks expensive” I whisper, reaching out to grab just above where the fabric folds down into the first done button, pulling gently until his body is almost touching mine.

“I know I may never be able to make it up to you...” I look up at him, watching as he darts his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. I flatten my hands against his stomach, feeling his muscles tense under my touch, as I glide them down lower and lower until I rest them on the edge of his trousers, my fingertips slipping under the fabric just a tad, “...but I can try”

I smile when his breath hitches, and his hand grazing my elbow slides down to my hip, I slowly lean forward, and a plant a kiss in the center of his chest, where his the fabric of his shirt is not yet buttoned.

I slowly kiss up his torso, and along his collarbone, all the way up to his jaw, which is set tight as he inhales sharply.

I pause over the side of his face, my eyes tracing the shape of his lips as I bite my tongue, I can feel him watching, and painfully waiting for me to connect our lips, but I don’t budge, I just sit there tempting him with my breath.

In a flash he sets his drink down, the loud clink startling me as he grabs my face and pulls it to his, the hand his drink was in wet against my skin due to setting the glass down so abruptly. His lips glide along my own, the feeling knocking the air from my lungs, and his taste explodes in my mouth as he deepens the kiss, tequila overpowering my senses.

I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling against the silky soft strands as he lets out a low grunt, causing a tornado of butterflies deep in my stomach.

My fingers blindly find the buttons on his dress shirt and start to fumble with them, tearing them from their places one by one. He helps my hands slide the shirt off his body, our mouths never breaking, and I glide my hands over his torso, my stomach doing flips as I feel the taut muscles flex with every movement.

I slip my hands under his arms to slide up and down his back, the smooth skin feeling like silk under my fingertips.

His lips rip away from my mouth as they begin to nip and kiss along my jaw and down my neck, my lips part from the feeling of his tongue laying slick marks against the skin, as his hand smooth down my body.

He breaks away, his breath hot against me as he begins to tug at the end of my dress, “Is this okay?” he whispers, slowly starting to pull it off.

I nod frantically, and in an instant the dress is on the floor and his lips are back on my neck. His hands travel down to grasp my butt, and slide down the back of my thighs, signaling for me to jump, to which I jump up and wrap my legs around his waist.

His lips refocus on mine as he starts walking, and I carelessly kiss him back as we walk down a hallway and into a room. He sets me down just before what I assume is his bed, and before he can push me back onto it, I flip around so that he falls with a surprised expression onto the soft covers, and I smirk.

I lean down and begin to slip off my heels, and I notice his gaze never leaving me even as he sits up ans slides off his own shoes.

He pulls me to him by the waist his large palms pressing into my hips slightly, as our lips reconnect. He slides his hands up my back, and slip his fingers under the latch of my bra.

“Still okay?” he asks, and my heart melts at how innocent he sounds.

I bite my lip and nod, “Yes”

Then, his lips press in the valley of my breasts as he undoes the latch, and I gasp silently when he bites against the center of my bra and pulls it off with his teeth.

Holy shit.

He smirks, and kisses me with a fury only pure lust could produce. As his hands grasp and palm over my body, a furious heat grows in my core, and with every heated kiss, I am more and more desperate to feel him closer.

I lean back and with my lips tugging into a smirk, I push against his chest and he falls flat against the bed as I climb to straddle his hips.

I place open mouth kisses on his chest, over the butterfly tattoo, and glide my hands down his torso until I feel the cool leather of his belt and I start to unbuckle it when his hand stops me.

“Wait...” he pants, “...are you sure?” he looks at me with concerned eyes, and I almost laugh at how absurd he sounds, of course I’m fucking sure.

“One hundred percent” I reply, my chest heaving as I struggle to catch my breath. He nods slightly and lets me continue. He helps me shimmy of his trousers, lifting his hips so that I could pool the fabric down to his ankles, his belt clanking when it hits the floor.

His jaw goes slack and his lips part when I palm the bulge that’s under the thin fabric of his briefs, and he starts to pant, his chest heaving. He grips my hips, his fingers slipping under the fabric on my hips as our lips collide again, a low moan rippling up from the back of his throat as my hands smooth over his hips, close to his core.

I break away, catching my breath, and taking a moment to look over his body.

Disheveled curls, perfectly parted lips, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat...down to his taut chest, sparrows rising and falling on his pecs, and the image of the ferns tattooed on his hips making my core heat up seeing them completely.

I trace my fingers over the vines and leaves, my eyes settling on his v-line as it goes down into his briefs.

He had to be an angel right? No one is build like that if they’re human.

I’ve got to be dreaming.

He sucks in a breath as my fingers graze the ink, and I look up to see his eyes traveling on my body as well.

“You’re so fucking beautiful” he says breathless, pulling his bottom lip in his mouth, and the rasp in his voice has heat pooling at my center.

I pull him back in for a desperate kiss, like his lips were oxygen and I was drowning, and he kisses back with just as must force.

In a flash he flips me around so that he is hovering over me, and I giggle into his lips.

“That’s better” his voice rumbles up from his throat, his hands hot on my hips, fingers pressing firmly into my skin as he connects his lips with my neck, leaving wet kisses down to my collar bone before pulling away to hook his fingers under the lace of my underwear, smirking up at me while he begins to pull them down my legs.

Once they are completely off he throws them over his shoulders, a devilish grin placed on his face, as his hands smooth up my shins.

He places a kiss on both my knees before starting to suck on the soft skin on the inside of my thighs, and I have to muffle a moan at the feeling.

“It’s okay love...” he whispers, his voice incredibly low, “...let me hear you”

My jaw goes slack as he starts sucking again, slightly higher up, and as the moan leaves my lips, a low groan leaves his own.

His palms push on my inner thighs, and I open them as he makes his way further and further up, and if I wasn’t totally washed away in pleasure I would have thought about the hickeys he was leaving on my skin, but I didn’t.

I couldn’t give a fuck to be honest.

I arch my back when I feel his tongue leave a slick trail just a hair’s width away from my folds, a soft whimper leaving my mouth.

“Tell me what you want” he says, voice low and lustful as he smirks at me, eyes blown out.

The throbbing in between my legs is almost painful, and I shift my hips to try and ease it, wincing when he continues to do nothing.

“You gotta tell me what you want, baby” He says and I glare at him, the heat in my core rising by the second.

“You” I breath, and he smirks even wider, “I don’t care how...God, I-I just want you”

I feel the presence of his fingers on my heat, and a moan leaves my lips. He sinks his middle digit deep into me, his cool rings making me gasp as he curls his fingers up.

“Fuck” I whisper, my eyes closed as he goes a steady pace, my head spinning, “N-need more” I gasp, and he slips in a second digit.

“N-no” I shake my head, writhing and rolling against his bed.

“No?” he questions, a smug tone to his voice and I force my eyes open to look at his.

“Not what I meant” I glare, and his smirk tells me he knows what I meant, but I can see the devil dancing in his eyes.

“Not your fingers, I need you” He bits his lip as he groans, pulling his fingers out of me to slide off his briefs, his member springing to his stomach.

“You want to feel me love, is that it?” he says low and raspy, reaching over to his bedside table to pull a shiny foil package out of the drawer.

My core is throbbing and I feel like screaming as more heat shoots through me, “Yes...need you now”

A dark chuckle rolls up from his chest as he rolls the rubber material over his hard center, sucking in a breath at the feeling.

“It’s okay, need to feel y’too” he whispers as he positions himself above me, my hips bucking and rolling, trying to ease the heat between my legs.

“Gonna have to hold still fo’ me” he says, one large palm pressing between my hips to try and limit my constant movement.

“Sorry-“ I pant, “It’s killing me” I whine, not even able to find embarrassment at how needy I am, all I could think about was the heavy throbbing at my core.

“All this for me?” he gasps as his head glides through the wetness at my center, and I moan at the feeling of finally feeling him, wrapping my legs around his hips, my heels pressing into his skin.

He sinks further and further into me, and I hadn’t realized just how big he was until now, he filled me up completely and I couldn’t help but whimper. He starts slow, pulling out and pushing back in at a painful pace, and I grab at the sheets under me.

“Faster, p-please go faster” I plead, and he sucks in a breath as he picks up speed, hitting all the right spots inside of me.

“God you’re so tight” he grunts, his eyebrows furrowed together in a mix of concentration and pleasure. He pace quickens and quickens until I’m seeing stars, the bed thudding from his thrusting.

“Feel good?” he pants, and I wonder how I’ll even get words out of my mouth with the pleasure rushing through me.

“Fucking amazing” I manage with a moan, my hands moving to grip at his shoulders, feeling myself almost to the edge.

“I-I’m-“ I gasp, but I can’t seem to speak as my head spins.

“You’re close?” he questions, stepping in for me and I nod furiously.

“Me too, fuck” he gasps, biting his lower lip, one hand landing on my hip to pull me against him harder, to the point where I ached where his fingers where, his nails digging in to my skin.

And that’s enough to send me over the edge, dirty noises leaving my lips as the coil in my belly snaps, my body shuttering around him as my vision blurs. I cuss and wrap my legs tighter around his hips, pulling him impossibly closer as he moans.

His thrusts become sloppy and broken as he cries out, his own release quickly following my own, and his head drops to the crook of my neck as he comes down from his high, body exhausted but still rolling into me. He rides out both of our orgasms, lazily sliding his hips into my own until he is almost too tired to move, but manages to slide out -causing me to gasp at the feeling- and plop down beside me.

We lay there, our bodies recovering, chests heaving and skin sticky with sweat.

When I finally regain some muscle movement I look over to him next to me, his back flat against the mattress one hand on his torso, one up by next to his head. A low fire begins to brew in my belly again at the sight of him, curls soaked with sweat, body glistening, muscles twitching and stretching as he struggles to catch his breath, lips parted and eyes shut.

I drag myself on top of him, tracing patterns on his balmy skin, “You okay?” my voice rasps, my vocal chords a bit overdone.

He swallows and smiles, “Yeah...you?”

I brush a hand through his damp hair, and he gives a satisfied hum.

“Yeah” I bite my lip, “...never felt like that before” he chuckles, and heat is already returning to my core as he opens his eyes, a lazy grin on his face.

“Me either” he admits, his hand beginning to run gently up and down my back, and I realize his rings are still on.

A shiver travels down my spine, and I bite my lip, “Think you could do it again?”

He raises his eyebrows at me, bringing his other hand to run down his face as he laughs.

“Christ! Already?” he exclaims and I blush a bit, still tracing invisible patterns on his chest.

“I made y’feel that good?” he asks, voice a bit lower, a sly grin on his face, and I give him a nod.

“Here...” I begin, “...you don’t even have to do anything, let me do the work” I say as I pick myself up from his body, ignoring my wobbly legs, and scoot down so that I am straddling him just above his hips.

“Okay...” he swallows, watching as I kiss his torso, right on top of the butterfly tattoo, laying a slick line with my tongue. His skin erupts with goosebumps and I smirk, sliding my hands down his body, placing my palms on his fern tattoos. I lay another kiss and another, until I’ve reached his belly button, and I scrape my teeth along his skin. A low groan leaves his mouth as his eyes close.

“Y’like that?” I ask, and his hands flex the sheets underneath him before he nods. I can feel his cock already hardening from behind my bum, and I lean up to suck on his neck, my teeth nipping his skin as I finish and his breath hitches. I scoot down and rub my wettening core on his length, which earns a soft whimper from both of our mouths, both of us still sensitive from our last round.

I reach between us as I glide my hands down his member, realizing he never took his condom off from previously, and giving him a slow pump as I watch his jaw slack as his length fully hardens in my hand.

“Feelin’ good yet?” I ask, and I graze my thumb over his head, a moan leaving his lips.

“Yes...keep going” he says, his chest already starting to heave again. I lift myself up, thighs shaking, and slide onto him just a tad, closing my eyes at the feeling, and I pause, my hands firm on his chest.

“K-keep going” he pleads through gritted teeth, and I don’t have it in me to tease him, my core throbbing for him. I lower myself down and I hear him suck in a breath as I completely engulf him. Then, finding it impossible to hold still, I lift myself up and back down, my lips parting at the feeling.

He was so big...and I loved it.

His hands settle on my thighs, gripping as I speed up, slowly bouncing faster and faster on top of him.

“Holy shit” he mumbles, grunting and I let out a small whimper, I was already so close.

“I’m close” I gasp, biting my lip and he nods.

Only a few more bounces and I’m shaking, throwing my head back as pleasure shoots through me, his hands now on my hips, pulling me down as he lifts his own up until he was moaning too, both of us trembling and gasping for air.

I lift off of him, and collapse beside him, opening my eyes when I hear him roll the condom off his body, and he goes to toss it away, returning to pull me under the covers and against his chest.

“You’re a minx, y’know that?” he laughs breathlessly, and I chuckle back, I was exhausted, and he was too.

“Made me feel amazing though, haven’t felt that good in a while” he whispers, a genuine tone to his voice, pressing a kiss to my forehead, “Thank you”

I furrow my eyebrows, did he just thank me?

No one has ever thanked me after having sex before, and I found it oddly heart warming.

“Let me know when you’re ready for round three” he smugly whispers and I raise my eyebrows pulling away from his chest to see the devilish smirk on his lips, he was either an angel or satan himself, and I’d be lying if I said the idea didn’t burn me up from the inside out with excitement and curiosity.

#harry styles #harry edward styles #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry smut

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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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