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[leanleather]

Chapter 2 is still coming! Sorry for the delay, the holidays get so busy, but I haven’t forgotten y’all!

[leanleather]

Peach Whiskey Hub

Hi darlings! This is gonna be the big post for Peach Whiskey. Here you will find the masterlist, important links, and the taglist as it grows. This helps me keep stuff sorted and helps you find things!

Masterlist:

Chapter I

Chapter II (IN PROGRESS)

Important Links:

Pinterest Board

Sources Google Doc

Taglist:

(Note: This is empty bc I didn’t wanna add anyone without them telling me to. If you wanna be added, please let me know!)

[leanleather]

Just checking, would anyone like to be added to the Peach Whiskey tag list?

[leanleather]

Peach Whiskey, Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of a saloon owner. On what should be a typical shift, a group of cowboys wander in. The leader of said group is Elvis Presley, a man with a reputation for his quick temper and even quicker trigger finger. Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: I was deeply inspired by A Whole Man is Hard to Find, an absolutely gorgeous peace by my now favorite author, @aconflagrationofmyown​. That being said, my knowlegde of the time period is nowhere near as good as Marina’s in that fic. I will be doing more and more research as this fic goes on, but for now I am relying on memory, movies, and Red Dead Redemption (hey, I love cowboys, ok?). This takes place in like the early 1800′s in a little made up town, but I picture it being like Rhodes from RDR2, so we’ll just say it’s in Georgia (my apologies to any from Georgia because I feel like I’m gonna butcher my knowledge of the state). Also I couldn’t find like an actual word for the leader of a cowboy posse? The only one I saw was sheriff so we will roll with it. I haven’t written a series in a LONG time, so bear with me please.

Warnings: Period typical violence, swearing, guns, death threats (not directed toward Y/N), unwanted and uncomfortable flirting, sexual references (nothing explicitly NSFW), use of the word “daddy” (in reference to an actual father, this is the old south y’all), cowboys, mentions of robbery & murder, jeez this isn’t looking good for just the first chapter, mentions of prostitution, family issues, mentions of kidnapping, not proofread lol

Your daddy had shook his head when you asked to work a couple of hours at The Silver Spur. It had been nearly a fortnight since the incident that made him remove you in the first place. Piggish men deep in their glass just couldn’t keep their tongue still, you had learned. Luckily your daddy had stepped in and escorted the man out, effectively suspending you in the process.

Yet here you stood, leaning against the wooden bar, diligently cleaning a glass with a well-worn cloth. It was a slow night--the occasional customer wandering in and sitting down to get piss fucking drunk--but you didn’t mind. Any citizen of  Lynnburn or wandering stranger could plant their soul in the saloon.

Lynnburn wasn’t a big town, housing no more than five-thousand and seven hundred residents. To any stranger it would have seemed nothing more than a dusty place with poor folks. That was the facade the town was lucky to have, keeping lush farmland hidden within the woods nearby. Corn was what kept the people fed and paid along with the yearly cattle sale. Horse shows had begun to turn a profit in the confines of the town’s stables, but it had only just started to gain the attention of outsiders. It both excited and worried Lynnburn natives. The Silver Spur drew in wanderers from all over the wooded state of Georgia. Your father’s well-known peach whiskey attracted all sorts of folks--most of which being shady business men looking to snatch farming land, or men passing through on their way to the big city.

One of those shady business men was sat at the end of the bar, nursing a drink in his sweaty palms, his eyes baring directly at your body. You paid him no mind as you continued your work. The consistent hum of patrons suddenly hushed, a rhythmic k'duh sound slicing through. Your eyes shifted as the glass was quickly abandoned beneath the counter of the bar. Plastering on a smile, your voice came out soaked in honey. “Hello, what can I get ya?” Finally the men came into view, and by god, the middle man was so pretty.

He had what could only be described as the face of a young adonis. A fine beau with soft, tanned skin covering a toned but equally soft body. The raven black hair pulled the focus to his eyes, bluer than the sky on an autumn day. But you recognized his face for another reason, one that made your hands tremble a bit.

The man and his companions filled the remaining seats at the bar. He pulled the hat off of his head and rested it on the counter. “Hi, honey. We’ll all just be havin’ whiskey, on me.” You gave a nod in response and started pouring the spirit. A few drops slid down the side of the glass, a soft apology leaving your lips.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Presley.” You sat the glass in front of him. Elvis Presley was sitting in your father’s saloon. The same man who had a hand in removing a whole gang from Lynnburn and stolen their loots, blood staining his hands and perhaps his soul, was now asking you for a drink. The cowboy let out a soft chuckle, his calloused hands wrapping around your own.

“You’re alright, darlin’. Ain’t none of us degenerates gon’ hurt you.” Elvis cooed. The skin on your face felt so hot, whether it was out of fear, embarrassment, or flattery, you weren’t sure. His friends gave agreeing nods or laughs of their own, the other patrons in the saloon melting back into their own conversations. “In fact, as long as we’re drinkin’ here, your safety is our priority.” He smiled at you--a big, toothy grin--and you could feel your stomach twist.

It wasn’t long before you had given out the rest of the drinks to his buddies--who you had learned were named Jerry, Sonny, Robert (who they called Red), and Scotty. They had been gentlemanly to you as soon as Elvis gave the word. For a moment, you were sure that the night would go on and end normally.

But that business man could only hold his tongue for so long. He was near red in the face when you approached to take his empty glass. “Sweet thing, how much would a man need to offer to get a night with you?” He rasped. You had to stop yourself from boiling over, instead choosing to stiffen and move away.

“I never.” You practically hissed. Before the man could part his lips to retort, another voice cut through.

“That’s enough. Leave the lady alone.” Elvis sneered. He was standing now, moved closer to the business man with his hands curled down by his sides. The gaggle of men he’d arrived with also focused on the situation with fierce snarls. “Why don’t you just pay your tab n’ go on home, huh?” The distinct click of a revolver hammer followed. A ghostly hue washed over the now disgruntled patron as he dug in his pockets, producing some silver coins and hastily setting them on the counter before rising and hurriedly shuffling out of your father’s business.

Your eyebrows remained raised in surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Presley, but you didn’t have to do that. Usually they take the hint after the first couple times.” You snatched the glass left by the offending male, cleaning it and shoving it below the counter. It was a lie. They didn’t stop, only kept perusing until they lost interest and paid a prostitute, or your father made an appearance and forced them to leave. You were silently thankful that a man with a violent reputation had chosen to have mercy on you that night. Though, you had never heard such things about the Presley gang--who you had heard called the Mephis Mafia by town-goers, on according that the men involved had moved from Memphis, in whispers at the general store or in the corner of the saloon--ever doing anything like that to a woman. But just because nobody thought a person could do something didn’t mean that they wouldn’t. It was a hard truth your mother had sowed in your brain. Love few, and trust even less.

Elvis nodded his head slightly, scooting the coins down to you and moving back to his seat. “I only regret that men speak to you that way. ‘Specially pigs like that, though that’s a dishonor to the swine.” Scotty laughed, swallowing down the last of his drink. “But like I said, nobody’s gon’ talk to ya like that when we’re here. Swear it.” The man looked back to his friends and received grumbled agreeances. “And please, call me Elvis. Mr. Presley is my daddy.” That boyish smile made a reappearance, as if he hadn’t just threatened to paint the walls with the blood of another human being. It was sickening in a way--but, it had been in your favor. Elvis looked to the swinging doors, shaking his head softly and stretching. “Well honey, we best be goin’. Never did get yer name though.” It wasn’t a question. Not a ‘could I know your name’? It was almost a demand, but delivered much more gently. “It’s Y/N McCane, sir.” You returned his smile. You swiftly collected the empty glasses together. “Though I suspect you may know my brother, Teddy. He’s always runnin’ around town helpin’ folks with something.” Knowingly, Elvis leaned in.

“I do, actually. Good kid. Tried to recruit him a couple ‘a times, but he said your daddy wouldn’t want our blood money.” The blood running through you froze. The cowboy had been such a gentlemen before, but you couldn’t help the suspicion rising in you that it may have been a threat. “Relax, honey. Told ya. We ain’t that bad. Tell ya what,” Elvis leaned back to look at Jerry and cocked an eyebrow, the other man shrugging, “why don’t you come out to our ranch tomorrow? You can see what we’re really about.“ Shit. There’s no way your family would let you go out there. But, what harm could it do? “It will have to be after church, Mr. Pre- Elvis. Just...just meet me there.” You breathed quietly. The man across from you took your hand again, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Great. We’ll see you then. Come on boys, we got chores to wrap up!” Elvis reached into his pocket, pulling out what you quickly noticed was far too much money and setting it down. He left you no time to object before he ushered his posse out. Your elbows lifted to rest on the counter, your head landing in your hands with a sigh.

Once you’d closed The Silver Spur for the night, you hobbled up the stairs to your family’s abode, your stomach rumbling as you caught the smell of your momma’s cooking. You made no attempt to do anything but sit in the chair at the dining table. As you sat and locked hands with your family, your mother said grace and that was that. Not a word was spoken between mouthfuls. That was, until your father spoke. “How was work, Y/N?” It had startled you, nearly making you choke on the roasted chicken in your mouth.

“Mm, it was fine.” You replied as you wiped your face. The fork in your hand jabbed at the food on the plate. Your mind was at war with your mouth and it was unsure which would win. “Oh, uhm, Elvis Presley stopped in. Wanted me to visit his ranch.” The words spilled out of you so fast you’d barely avoided cutting yourself off with another mouthful of food.

Your father, however, became downright stiff. His utensils were abandoned on the table. “You let Elvis Presley convince you to visit his home? Good god...” Fingers grasped at the bridge of his nose. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t fucking kidnap you now that he knows where to find you. What were you thinking?” He chastised. You dared not look at him, instead meeting the eyes of Teddy. His expression was sympathetic. He knew they weren’t completely awful, but his lips remained tight.

“Daddy, he ain’t that bad. Defended my damn honor and paid me more than enough for his buddies’ drinks.” You retorted, finishing your food. Long ago had you tired of his over-protectiveness. “I am grown. I can go where I please, when I please. I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe, but just this once, please trust me.” It was pleading. Even a man as stoic as your father couldn’t resist giving in.

He let out a deep breath. “Fine. But please, take your gun? And at the first sign of anything going down, get the fuck outta there. Hear me?” You nodded excitedly. That was your cue to retire for the night, saying your goodnights to the family before heading to the room you and your brother shared. Laying in bed, you could not still your thoughts. Maybe you would ride along side the gang, hooves thundering beneath you, free as the hawks that soared the farmland looking for mice. Or maybe your father would be right, maybe you’d end up in a room in the middle of nowhere, praying for the same mercy shown to you tonight. All you could do was wait, hope, and make sure your gun was tucked into the garter on your thigh.

[leanleather]

Elvis I love ya but wtf is this outfit 😭

e at graceland w/ his horsey 🐎✨

[leanleather]

NYPD BLUE 8x9 | Oh Golly Goth

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[leanleather]

“I can’t talk right now, I’m doin hot girl shit”

*reads fanfiction for 3 hours*

*daydreams about my favorite characters and actors*

*takes a nap*

[leanleather]

get to know me: favorite movies [1/10]

Uncle Frank (2020) dir. Alan Ball

You wanna go meet my fucking family?

[leanleather]

A little more Wandavision fanart, Vision at a BBQ! I’m drawing a piece for each episode of Wandavision, check out my profile to see the others!

[leanleather]

Your mother and I… are very proud of you both.

[leanleather]

requested jaskier x princess!reader from the witcher

→ “my heart is so full of you i can barely call it my own.”

[leanleather]

Now I’m a Ron girl BUT 👀

𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘 - 𝖉.𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖋𝖔𝖞

summary; having a secret ‘relationship’ with draco and accidentally breaking one of his rules. pairing; draco malfoy x gryffindor!fem!reader warning; mentions of sexy time, swearing, angst, lil bit of fluff a/n; I know this topic/situation, as well as many others, has probably been written before but I really wanted to give it my own spin. Also, for obvious reasons Draco is going to be aged up in this, as he will be in all of my pieces and, yes, I know that the chances of another house member sneaking into another is very unlikely but just do along with it, okay? Anyways, I hope you enjoy my first Draco piece and depending on the reaction it gets I might make it a mini series with a few parts, if that x

You and Draco had three rules.

Three rules that you had to follow if you wanted to keep your secret safe. If anyone were to find out that you, one of Gryffindor’s brightest, and Draco, the Prince of Slytherin, were secretly meeting up, things certainly wouldn’t end well for the two of you. Not to mention Draco being a Malfoy. His family had very high expectations of him - none of which required him messing about with a Gryffindor. 

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[leanleather]

This is what love feels like 💖 (great work!!)

white lie christmas: part I [R.W]

[A/N: the fake dating trope gives me poor insecure baby Ron vibes so I decided to combine it with a christmas mini-series!! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!]

[WARNINGS: fake-dating, alcohol, some swearing, food]

[WORDS: 2.8k]

DECEMBER 2002

“I know it sounds ridiculous…” 

“Yes! That’s because it is ridiculous, Ronald!

“It might work!”

“They’ll never believe it!”

“They might!”

“They won’t!”

“Please!”

“Bloody hell, Ron.”

  “I’m sick of being the only bloody person in my family without anyone!” 

I stopped and frowned at Ron who was outstretched on my couch. I sat on the chair next to him as though we were at his therapy session. He swung his legs over and sat up to look at me.

“Is this really what this is about?” I asked. 

“Yes! Just one dinner! You’d been over before it’s not like you’re meeting my family for the first time,” He offered with a shrug. 

“I’ve been over once and this time you plan on introducing me as your girlfriend!” I argued. Ron’s ears went pink and he sheepishly looked away. 

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[leanleather]

This is really good 🥺 thank you for writing this

Closer (Jaskier x Reader)

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt

Fandom: The Witcher

Tags: Reader Insert, Gender Neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst With Happy Ending

Warnings: Injury, a little sad and angsty at first.

Summary: You don’t know what you have until you lose it, and it isn’t until Jaskier gets badly hurt that Y/N realizes how much he truly means to them.

A/N: Inspired by episode five ‘Bottled Appetites’, no spoilers though. Remember that scenarios are closed, and this one wasn’t requested. Hope you enjoy it, please reblog and/or leave some comments if you do!

Jaskier gently squeezed your side, making you chuckle like he intended to. You squeezed against him in the saddle in response, and he smiled at you over his shoulder. 

“Ah, there he is!” Jaskier pulled on the reins and stopped the horse upon spotting the witcher. “Geralt! What are you doing here? Why did you leave?” 

The bard got down from the horse and absently helped you down as well, even if his attention was partially focused on his friend. Once you were settled on the ground, Jaskier patted your waist and walked over to Geralt.

“Fuck off” The witcher replied, pulling Roach along as he walked.

Jaskier turned around, exchanging a confused glance with you. More to yourself than to him, you nodded your head.

“It’s because of Yennefer, isn’t it?” You piped up, bearing a cautious tone that didn’t mean to upset him. “You weren’t expecting to see her there” 

While the witcher continued, basically ignoring you two, your other friend stared at you. He lifted his head to the sky, mouth open in recognition, and nodded himself.

“Ah, then maybe you should go back” Jaskier mumbled as he looked around the forest the three of you were now in. “This place doesn’t look too safe anyway”

“Shut up” Geralt’s voice was suddenly cold as he came to a halt.

You glanced at the bard as he gawked in outrage. However, it felt like something was wrong. The witcher’s shoulders were tense, and he was incredibly still. Much to your dismay, Jaskier’s cheeriness vanished as he slowly faced you again.

“What is it?” You nervously asked, clutching to the horse’s reins in anguish.

“Look out!” Jaskier pushed you out of harm’s way just as a hidden beast jumped out from the forest’s depths and lunged at you. 

You fell to the ground with the force of his movement and screamed as you saw it tackling him to the ground, joining his own screams as he cried out in pain. 

Keep reading

[leanleather]

Fuck Amber Heard and everything she stands for.

[leanleather]

I knew that teacher was sus 😫

Love Undercover     two

“Another failed test? I studied super hard for this one!” I grunt in frustration. The first time I took history I got an A! Why am I on the verge of flunking out now? “If you have any questions about your scores, please come see me after class.” I put everything in my bag except the poor test. Tom slings an arm over me to walk to our next class. “Tom, I’ll be right out. I just gotta talk to Mr. Devo.” He nods and walks out the door. Waiting for me outside the room, he flicks a toothpick up and down. 

“Mr. Devo, I don’t understand why I keep getting poor grades in this class. I studied hard for this test yet I got a low C. What do I need to work on?” Mr. Devo flips through a stack of papers, almost bored. “Well, Vanessa, there are several options to consider. It would take too much time to try and go into all of them now. Head to your next class and meet with me after school. We can go from there.” I nod, still confused over my situation. “Yes, sir. I’ll see you after school.” Exiting, I fix Tom’s bandana on his head. “Sweets, you alright? Your eyebrow’s all scrunched up like it does when you’re worried. Do Doug and I need to beat some kid up?” I shake my head slightly, playing with Toms fingers. “No, I’m fine. Promise.” I know he doesn’t believe me, but I have no way to prove him wrong when he’s right. “Oh Tom, I have to see Devo after school. So don’t worry about walking me out or anything.” He nods a little, worry still on his face. “Hey Tom, I have a question.” Tom nods once again. “If you’re such a defective, and I know about the… bathroom escapades, why are you so soft with me? I’m not exactly your, how do I put this, type.” He lifts a hand to his bandana and adjusts it. “I uh, I don’t know. Doug asked me the same thing the other day. Maybe because you’re not scared of me, and you’re sweet to me without asking for anything in return. Plus you almost punched Doug in the face for making comments.” I nod, taking in his confession. “We still on for tonight? There’s this great place I wanna show you.” Tom slumps a slight bit. “No, I can’t. I gotta do something tonight. Maybe this weekend?” I nod a little, starting our walk to the next class. “Sure. Come on big guy, time to get to class.” Both Tom and Doug walk with me to my locker, attracting attention the entire way. “Alright. Gotta meet with Devo. I’ll call you later?” Tom nods, earning a punch to the shoulder from Doug. As they head out the door, I make my way back to the classroom. 

“Mr. Devo, I really need to pass this class. What am I doing wrong?” The man leans over my seat, one hand sprawled onto the wood, the other inspected near his face. “Well, Miss Liebman, it seems that you have goofed off in my class for too long. It would take you acing every assignment for the rest of the month to put you above a low C. That is, unless, we can find a way to help you earn extra credit.” My eyebrows scrunch. “Of course! Whatever you need me to do to help me pass this class.” Devo pushes off and walks to the door. “Anything, Miss Liebman? Tell me, are you familiar with the works of Nabokov?” I stare down at my hands. Why is he asking if I know about Lolita? What is he hinting at? “No sir, I’m afraid I’m not familiar. Please enlighten me.” Once again he crosses the room to me. A warm slender hand lifts my chin to look into his eyes. “Well, Miss Liebman, I feel you have potential. Potential I can mold. Such a pretty face. Beauty can get you into many places, little one, and who better to teach that lesson than myself? Share your young beauty with me, and I’ll make sure you get the grades you require.” My eyes widen at his proposition, my mind racing a hundred miles an hour. “May, may I think about it? This is a lot to process right now.” He bobs his head slightly. “Of course. This is a big offer. Weigh your options, sort your priorities, decide how much you really need to pass this class. I know you’ll make the right decision, dear.” I swallow and pack my things. 

I walk out of the school practically numb. I have a story now, but at what cost? The fact that I don’t actually need to pass the class, that I’m an adult with ways out, ring through my mind. If I don’t shed light on this shadow, he’ll do this to others, if he hasn’t already. I just drive for miles. I don’t go anywhere really, just drive around town until I can get my thoughts together. 

I take a turn almost reflexively and lights and sirens go off. Looking in the rear view, a cop car is seen behind me. I pull off the road and reach for my license and registration. I roll down my window before the officer even gets out of the car. Everything I do is routine, my body going through the motions it knows I need to do. A young Asian officer with really nice hair walks to my window. He looks young enough to be one of my peers. “License and registration ma’am.” I hand him my documents, keeping my hands on the wheel. He looks at my ID to me, back to my ID. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to have my partner run this in the system. Please exit the vehicle and follow me.” I nod, unbuckling slowly and exiting the mystery machine to follow him. The man sitting in the passenger side of the cop car looks familiar. Thinking about it, he looks like Tom. As he checks my ID, his eyes widen and he practically ducks down, pulling the brim of his hat down. I try to start conversation with the first officer. “What did you say your name was officer?” He looks at me, “Ioki, Harry Ioki.” I nod. “And your partner?” I glance at the figure in the seat. “Tom Hanson, should be about done.” Officer Ioki holds his hand outside the window and is given my ID in return. I am excused and am let off with a warning to use my turning signals next time. 

I drive home with thoughts filled with predators and undercover assignments, officers and Toms.