#(but the lot* of salt and pepper on his beard and side hair is gorgeous)

[mcdannowave]

[band--psycho]

Negan x Reader-You’re Different

For  my amazing friend @little-diable writing challenge!! I hope you enjoy this!

Prompt: In my heart there was a kind of fighting that’s would not let me sleep (Prompt in bold)

Warnings- A lot of smut (18+ if you’re under 18 do not read!)

Y/ns POV

In my heart, there was a kind of fighting that would not let me sleep and this wasn’t the first night this had happened either. And it was all because of one person. Negan. The leader of The Saviors. He was someone people feared, hell most people saw him as a monster and I knew he had that side to him...but he was different around me. He was real, not the fierce leader he was in front of the other Saviors. We’d talk about our life before this, about the threats he and our people were facing. And overtime I grew a sweet spot for him, one that saw past the act he put on and he grew a soft spot for me too, I wasn’t a wife and I’d never so much as kissed Negan but I had all of the privileges of a wife and he’d bring me back gifts from runs. Unlike the wives who normally got some form of lingerie or something else sexual, he gave me books, so much so I basically had a whole library in my room. But recently, I couldn’t help the thoughts that crept into my night when I was alone. The other day when I walked past his room and heard him moaning I couldn’t help the dampness that I felt in my panties. I tried to brush away those thoughts, but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. I craved him in a way I never craved anyone before. I knew he wasn’t seeing any of his wives tonight and before my brain could even really register what my body was doing, I was knocking on his door. I rarely ever visited him unless Simon had told me he wanted me to, normally Negan would come to my room which would explain the quizzical look he had on his face.

“Doll? What’re you-” before he could say anything else I pressed my lips to his, the pent up need I had for him taking over my brain and my body. Soon enough, he was kissing me back just as intensely. His salt and pepper beard was rough against my skin, but I didn’t care, both of us were too entranced in the kiss, our lips attacked each other for a while, fighting for dominance, which of course he won. The kisses weren’t slow and sensual they were quick and desperate and right now that’s what I craved.A small noise of shock escaped my mouth at the feeling of my back colliding with the cold door which was now firmly shut. But it didn’t take long until my attention was back on the kiss. I craved him, every part of him and that’s when I felt his growing erection pressing against my thigh as the kiss got more intense and I couldn’t resist grinding against him, desperately trying to search for something, anything to cure the aching pleasure I had.But without any hesitation his hands held my waist in place, his dominant touch making the arousal I was already feeling multiply causing the dampness in my panties to grow. I’d never felt anything like this, not even for previous boyfriends I had when the world was normal. He lit a fire inside me that I couldn’t dim.

“I need you,”I whispered against his lips, he studied my eyes for a few moments, more than likely trying to figure out what was running through my head, but when I repeated, I noticed how his eyes grew dark with lust, a look that made the pleasure I was feeling almost unbearable. He knew it as well as I did. Instead of attacking my lips, he attacked my neck, sucking and biting all over my sensitive flesh.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and do exactly what I tell you, understand?” He drawled in a deep voice, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered obediently, knowing full well I was going to do whatever he said, no questions asked. A low chuckle left his lips, his gloved hand lightly tilting my chin up to look at him directly in the eyes,“Oh sweetheart, you call me daddy when we’re alone, understand?” All I could do was nod in response, feeling the words I wanted to say get lost in my throat as I stared into his eyes.

“Speak when you’re spoken to sweetheart.”he ordered, the softness in his voice contradicting the fiery look of desire in his eyes.

“Do you understand,” he asked, moving his gloved hand downward and wrapping it around my throat just hard enough to make the pleasure inside me build. 

“Yes, daddy,” as soon as I said those words, that all too familiar smirk came upon his face.

“Strip,” he breathed into my ear, the warmth of his break making the hair on the back of my neck stand up in excitement as he slowly released his grip on my throat. I menatally whined as his body backed away from mine slightly,taking the warmth of his body with him. Of course I obeyed his orders, quickly disregarding my pyjama shorts and top, leaving me in nothing but my sports bra and panties. He stood there, his eyes wandering down my body but as I felt his eyes on my body I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? I thought to myself, the reality of the situation suddenly dawning on me. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as his eyes  wandered down my body. What if he doesn’t like what he sees…that thought kept running round and round in my head, but that thought was halted in its tracks when I felt Negan's hands on my face.

“Doll,” he asked softly, both of his hands simultaneously tracing small circles on to my cheeks before moving closer to me. 

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous, doll,” he reassured, his hands slowly trailing to the bottom of my sports bra, his eyes searching mine for permission to remove it. I simply nodded as he lifted the bra over my head, throwing it into the pile of clothes already on the floor. Negan’s eyes darted down to my breasts, smirking as he slowly kissed down my chest, his hands now delicately rubbing over my nipples, His actions made all the anxiety I had fade away, all I could focus on was him, his hands, his mouth. A deep chuckle reverberated against my skin as he got to the waistband of my panties, his middle finger tracing along my clothed slit; instinctively I attempted to close my thighs, not knowing how much longer I could last.. 

“Get on the bed and spread those sweet fuckin’ legs, sweetheart” he mumbled against my skin as he kissed from my abdomen all the way back up to my lips. Of course I obeyed, quickly making my way to bed and spreading my legs near enough as soon as my body hit the silk sheets of his bed. 

“I’ve barely done anythin’ yet and you’re already this fuckin’ soaked,” it wasn’t a question. It was a statement and one he was more than happy to make, the pride oozing out of his voice. As he said those words I felt the bed dip slightly under the weight of him as he kneeled at the bottom of the bed. He then started kissing my legs, working his way up from my ankle to my thigh and back down again, going from one leg to another, his beard only adding to the pleasure I was feeling ,while his hands tightly held  on to both of them making sure I couldn’t move. Waiting was torture, I knew exactly where I wanted him but he wanted to tease me instead, which was all well and good, but the more he did this the more I felt lke I would come undone without him even touching my aching pussy.

“Daddy, please,” I whined, the desire I was feeling nearly overflowing. 

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he cooed, his finger lightly tracing over the place I craved him most. 

“You,” and that was the only answer he needed before he ripped my panties from my body, freeing my dripping pussy.

“I’ll give ya the choice, sweetheart, seen as I don’t think you’re gonna last long,” he whispered against my skin, one hand coming up to caress my breast, whilst the other was still holding my thigh. 

“Do you want daddy's tongue and fingers or do you want daddy's cock?” the hand that was once on my thigh, moving to my pussy, a single finger tapping against my swollen clit. I knew Negan was an experienced lover, even his wives (who hated him) always sex with him was something out of this world.I knew either way, I was going to be screaming and moaning in pleasure because of him but as the thought lingered in my head I felt eyes  drift down to the erection that was covered by Negan's trousers. 

“Use your words baby girl,” my heart fluttered at the nickname he called me as I tried to find my voice.

“I want you cock, daddy, please” I begged, desperately craving to release the pleasure that was still building inside me. 

“As you fuckin’ wish,” he cooed, leaning up to place a quick though heated kiss on my lips, before getting off of the bed, stripping himself bare. The confidence he had just seemed to flow off of him and I couldn’t help but stare in awe at his body. My eyes started at his chiseled tattooed chest and then moved further down to his cock. He. Was. Huge. 

“Like whatcha see,” he teased, kneeling between my thighs, the head of his cock agonizingly close to the place I needed him the most. But instead of entering me, he just stared at me for a while, the look in his eyes changing from lust and desire to a look I’d never seen on him before. A look that made my heart swell. A look of adoration...of love…

“Negan?” I asked, leaning up slightly, placing a hand over his chest lightly. 

“You’re different,” he whispered, his eyes still locked on mine as his hands went back to my face, caressing my cheeks again. 

“Different?” I asked softly only causing Negan to let out a small chuckle at the confused look on my face. 

“I love you,” he whispered  so quietly I wasn’t entirely sure that I’d heard him right but before I had time to say anything back, he was crashing his lips onto mine. It was different then before, it was slow and loving. As he continued to kiss me, I felt him lightly push my body back down on the bed. While his lips were still placed on mine, I felt him guide his throbbing hard cock into my soaking wet pussy. Both of us letting out a moan at the sensation of each other, it was an incredible feeling and he hadn’t even moved yet. Slowly he began to move his hips, his cock gently thrusting inside of me and then the speed of his thrusts began to increase and I couldn’t help but roll my hips back at him in response, when we broke away from the kiss and locked eyes with each other we both knew we were chasing our release. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good, babygirl,” he whispered breathlessly as his thrusts increased in speed; all I could do was moan in response, edging towards my climax even more. He kissed down my chest, just as he had done earlier, one hand squeezing my breast while he sucked on the other one. His tongue rolling over my hardened nipple, the other hand pinching at the sensitive budd on my breast, whilst he was doing this his thrusts began to get deeper, every single one of them hitting my G-spot. 

“Da..Daddy,” I stuttered out, feeling his thrusts get quicker. 

“Cum,” he ordered, and as if on my cue, my body responded, clenching around his dick as he spilled his seed inside of me. I couldn’t help but moan loudly not being able to contain the amazing feeling I felt releasing all of the pent up pleasure that had been building, I was sure half the sanctuary was going to hear me but I didn’t care. Both of us were panting as he pulled out and rolled off of me, before sitting up slightly, pulling my body into him. 

“You were fuckin’ amazing babygirl,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head, whilst his arm soothingly stroked my arm. I smiled in response, my finger lightly tracing over his tattoo before whispering “I love you too, Negan,” into his neck. I saw a smile on his face grow, it wasn’t a devilish smile, it was a pure smile. He held me close to him, like he was scared I was going to vanish and I reassured him the only way I knew I could, with featherlight kisses and comforting words and eventually we fell asleep wrapped in each others arms, not waking until the sunlight of a new summer's day bled through the curtains.

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[thatesqcrush]

After Hours, Pt. 2 - A Blissful New Year

**

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Conclusion (but not really, lets be real) to After Hours.  AN: NSFW (shocking) for loads of smut and language. AN 2/warning: Anal play requires a lot of prep - please don’t shove plugs without thorough prep and lube - lots and lots of lube as the anus doesn’t produce lubricant. So don’t do what Bryan does. No bueno. But it’s fanfic and I am suspending reality for this self-indulgent fic.

Prior parts: “The Trip” “The Trip, Pt. 2.

AN 3: Happy 2021 friends, may this new year bring you all that you wish for. Let’s say peace out to this dumpster fire of 2020. My last piece for holiday bingo - a very loose interpretation of “gift wrapping.” But again, it’s my bingo so whatevs, ha.

WC (for those who care): 2.8K

**

It was New Year’s Eve. The normally bustling city was quiet, with just a few stragglers securing what was needed to ring in the New Year. Knowing what was going to occur later that evening, you had called a few friends and secured some favors. You spent the entire day primping and pampering. You had a full face of makeup on, more heavy than you usually went for, complete with false lashes and a bold red matte lipstick, as if muddled blackberries were smeared on your lips. Your hair was swept up, with a crown braid to finish the look. Your dress, thanks to Rent the Runway, was a Badgley Mischka gold sequin dress with a v-neckline and ruched waist. It was also dangerously short sans heels and the champagne stilettos you wore, made it even shorter.

Before you left, you downed a shot of Reyka vodka – a gift from a client after you won their case. It went down smoothly – almost too smoothly. You decided to down one more shot to settle your nerves as you waited for your Uber to arrive.

**

Not to be outdone with the elegant Christmas party a week earlier, STR Laurie also hosted a very opulent and lavish New Year’s Eve party. This time it was located at one of the ballrooms at Navy Pier. The ballroom capitalized on timeless architecture and the beauty of Chicago with brick structure and a sweeping dome ceiling which boasted a warm and rustic feel, while being fresh with polished floors and modern amenities. It sat directly on the lakefront with expansive, panoramic, and breathtaking views of Lake Michigan and the skyline. Crystals, crème roses, white lilies, and purple statice hung off the wrought iron chandeliers.

All of STR Laurie and Reddick Boseman were there, with their significant others or dates. Mixing in were the highest echelon of clients the firm wanted to impress or court to pad their billing revenue. Food and drink were abounding in obscene excess, with both an open spread of everything you could possibly imagine along with butler service carrying hors d’oeuvres and champagne. There was a quartet playing jazz.

You plucked a champagne flute off a serving tray and made your way around, greeting colleagues and guests alike. You scanned the room for Bryan but he was nowhere around. You continued to mill about, enjoying the passing time. Every once in awhile you would try to discreetly scan the room to see if he had arrived.

The clock inched forward, closer to midnight. You walked to the one of the windows, with yet another glass of champagne in hand. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling. The moonlight beamed off Lake Michigan, creating an ethereal effect over the city. You overheard from someone passing by that it was thirty minutes to midnight.

You took out your phone, feeling defeated. You were focused on your phone, arranging for an Uber home but you knew Bryan was behind you.

The cologne gave him away. You knew that smell from anywhere. You had been up close with that scent in many ways – from being under Bryan, over Bryan, sitting next to him, to name a few ways.

The tactile sensuality of rich black leather, patchouli and vetiver of his cologne enveloped you like a second skin. Layers of amber emanated off the heat of his skin. It was addicting and intoxicating. You looked up and Bryan’s reflection in the windowpane confirmed that it was in fact him. You spun around and slipped your phone in your clutch.

“Bryan.” You greeted coolly. “I was just about to leave.”

Bryan’s arms were around his back. Your breath caught in your throat as your drunk him in; he looked debonair in his tuxedo. His salt and pepper hair was perfectly coiffed and his beard was neatly trimmed.

“Hey gorgeous. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” Bryan replied with the tiniest of shrugs as if he did not even care that he had kept you waiting. You suspected he actually did not.

“I had to pick up something for you.” He continued.

You cocked your brow and crossed your arms, which happened to push your breasts up. “For me?”

Bryan’s gaze darkened. “Consider it a belated Christmas gift. Had to make sure it was wrapped perfectly.” And with that, he brought his arms around, lifting a small, gilded box with an impossibly perfect handtied bow.

You took a step forward and took the box from him. Your eyes met his and he nodded, waving to fingers as confirmation that you should open it. You felt bad undoing such a perfect bow, but you were curious as to what it was. The elegant red ribbon fluttered to the ground, landing in a small heap by your feet. You lifted the top of the box and felt your cunt kick at the gift.

It was a butt plug and a small, nearly pocket sized bullet. Your fingertips traced over the butt plug – it was cold as it was made out of glass. The plug was deep red in color and the flared base ended with a marbled rose. It almost looked like a piece of art. A shiver went through your spine.

You looked up at Bryan once more; the look on his face was criminal. “It’s almost midnight.” You replied softly.

“Then we should find someplace where we can be alone then, hmmm?” Bryan replied.

You closed the box and offered your hand. “Lead the way.”

***

You were curious as to where Bryan was leading you. You followed him dutifully as he tugged on random doors by the ballroom you were in. Finally Bryan found an open door and he stuck his head in. He opened the door, holding it for you. “M’lady.”

“You sir are the furthest thing from honorable.” You snorted walking in, but not before thrusting the gift box into his chest.

Bryan made sure the door was locked after he closed it behind him. He caught up with you in a few paces and reached for wrist, stopping you in place. He pulled you close to him and captured your lips with his. The kiss was frenzied as you each grabbed handfuls of each other’s bodies, unable to decided where to touch first, wanting to touch every part of each other at once. His hands made way to your ass, grabbing the flesh before delivering a hard spank to it. You let out a moan as he reached around to the backs of your thighs, lifting you up in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked to the back of the ballroom to the window.

The muffled sound of the party was in the background, but you did not care about that one bit as his lips locked onto the slope of your neck sucking another bruise. You let out a mewl of pleasure as his hands slid up your waist to the top of your dress, kneading and massaging your breast through your dress. He then pushed the neckline of your dress aside on each side, freeing your tits from its confines. Bryan’s mouth latched onto a nipple and you arched in his embrace. Your pert nipples endured licks from his tongue and then harder suckles from his warm mouth. Your pussy flooded with desire and it was safe to say that you were obscenely wet from Bryan’s actions, and he had only just begun.

You tugged on his dark hair, dragging his mouth from your breasts to your mouth, kissing him once more. Your tongues rolled over another’s until Bryan took control of the kiss, using his tongue to fuck your mouth.

Your palm slid down the front of his pants, stroking his clothed erection. “Please, fuck me.” You unabashedly begged. Bryan chuckled darkly as he spun you around and pressed you against the window. It was the same view as in the other ballroom and your mind was spinning as you came to terms of being fucked in front of all of Chicago in some sense.

Bryan pressed himself against you, rutting his cock against you, practically humping you in a futile attempt to give himself some relief from his own ache, which was throbbing against the seam of his zipper. You pushed back, desperate for more. Bryan flipped up the back of your dress, running his hands over the slope of your ass and used the tip of his shoe to spread your legs apart. He dropped to his knees and hooked his fingers on the flimsy straps of your lace thong, bringing it all the way to your ankles. He tapped your ankle and then the other, and you stepped out carefully. Bryan made sure your heels didn’t get caught and then once they were off, he took your thong – already ruined – and took a deep inhalation. Bryan growled and shoved your thong into his pocket. “I’ll be keeping these.” Bryan rumbled. “I’ll use them for the next time I jerk off.”

You shivered once more at his filthy words. “After me, you’ll never need to jerk off. My pussy belongs to you daddy. You can use me however you want, whenever you want.” You panted, wriggling your hips once more.

“Is that so?” Bryan asked, his voice delighted. “My personal fuck toy?”

“Yes.” You confirmed. “Yours.”

You gasped as you felt his beard scratch against the backs of your thighs, his tongue running an unhurried stripe from your clit up to your ass. Bryan’s palms were splayed out on your cheeks, spreading them wider. He used his fingers to part the lips of your hot cunt and buried his tongue, eating you as if he were a man having his last meal.  

You let out a cry of pleasure, grasping desperately at the window, your nails scraping. Bryan shook his head, lapping and flicking his tongue against your pussy, which was dripping. Your thighs were a mess of his saliva and your juices. He snaked his fingers and found your clit, rubbing haphazard circles on your swollen flesh. You rocked against him, desperate for more, desperate to be filled. Bryan gathered some of your juices on to the tips of his fingers, teasing your asshole. “This ass is going to look so good with your gift.” Bryan murmured. He removed his hands and you heard him open the box and then drop it back to the ground. Bryan snorted and then hocked a wad of spit into his hand in order to use it as lubricant. You felt the tip of the plug at your entrance and then Bryan sunk the plug inside of you as he sunk two fingers into your pussy. He let out his own groan of satisfaction at how easily they sunk in. You let out a wrecked moan, feeling the pressure of the plug give way to fullness.

You let out a groan, tipping your head back. Bryan let out a satisfied whistle and then stood. “Stay still.”

“Okay.” You managed to choke out, your voice was heady, filled with want. “I feel… so full.”

Bryan undid his cummerbund and then undid his fly, pushing his pants and boxers down in one movement. One hand gripped your hip, the other was on his cock, giving it a few strokes. He rubbed the tip of his cock against you slit, slicking his cock with your wetness. You recalled how he did that prior – and just that – before releasing into your panties and you wriggled back again, desperate.

Bryan paused and you tensed.

“What? Is there so—” You asked but you were cut off by the sound of buzzing in the room. You realized that Bryan had turned on the bullet. Bryan lined his cock with your entrance, you could feel the buzzing along the side of your hip. He dragged the head of his cock up and down your cunt, gathering your essence, then pushed the crown into you. Finally, with a snap of his hips, Bryan sunk into you, his cock hitting your cervix.  You groaned as he stretched you with his monstrously sized cock. You felt wonderfully full; there was a slight burn mixed with pleasure.

Your eyelids fluttered closed and you moaned loudly as his other arm, the one with the bullet in his hand, wrapped around and down you, settling on your clit.

He started to fuck you hard and fast. He was relentless, pounding you deeply; you were certain you would feel it the next day. You felt yourself clench around him, your orgasm building furiously. Keeping his one hand on your clit, he used his other to sink his fingers into your updo and tug hard. You cried out at the edge of pain and your cunt clenched around his cock.

“Oh God, Bryan - I think I am going to —" the words were caught in your throat.

“That’s it kitten. Cum on this cock, cream for daddy.” Bryan grunted, as he pounded your pussy deep and hard. Beads of sweat dropped off his forehead. You came hard, wailing his name and as the tendrils of your orgasm washed over you, you were distantly aware of fireworks going off in front of you.

“Yes!” Bryan hissed. “Fuck, fuck!” His hips quickened and you knew he was going to cum soon. Bryan thrusted harder and faster, in and out of your pussy. The pressure of the bullet on your clit deepened and his other hand pressed into your hips so much so that you were certain there would be bruises.

“Oh shit, I am going to cum Y/N. Take that cum!” Bryan growled as he stiffened, releasing into you. You could feel his cock pulsing inside of you. Bryan gnashed his teeth together, letting out a sound akin to something animalistic and primal as if he was marking you as his. You could feel some of Bryan’s come drip out despite still being connected and that trigged another orgasm and you cried out again.

Bryan pulled out of you and you barely had a second to come back down when his mouth was on your pussy again, lapping the mix of your release and his. The bullet was tossed to the side, no longer needed. He stood up and jerked your chin and pressed a hard, deep kiss into his mouth. Bryan pushed the mixture of your and his release into your mouth and you groaned in pleasure, taking delight in the filthy kiss.

He broke the kiss briefly to command you to swallow and you did.

You went to kiss him again but missed as Bryan sunk back down on his knees, resuming his oral fixations on your cunt. You ran your hands through his dark hair as he propped a heeled leg onto his shoulder. “I want one more – I want the big one.” Bryan sunk two fingers into you and crooked them in a come hither motion, stroking against your g-spot. You felt the familiar pressure surge and you cried out as you began to squirt. He rubbed your clit with his whole palm, not caring that he got soaked in the process.

“Fuck Bryan, oh God, oh fuck!” You shouted, with the last word’s syllables being stretched out.

You stood there panting, a complete and utter mess.

Bryan slowly pulled out, gently putting your leg down. Bryan stood and fixed himself. He pulled you close to him and kissed you softly. You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into the kiss. You felt his hand trace the curve of your ass and then reach into your cheeks and pull out the plug.

You broke the kiss, shuddering. Bryan reached into his pocket and pulled out your panties and then wrapped the plug in it. You bent to pick up the bullet and handed it to him and that was further wrapped with the plug. Bryan shoved all three items back into his pocket.

“Should we go back to the party?” You asked as you both walked back out, your voice hoarse from all the orgasms that Bryan ripped out of you. You both could hear Auld Lang Syne being sung from the ballroom inhabited by all of STR Laurie.

Bryan scoffed. “Fuck no – lets go finish this party at my place.”

“Sounds perfect.” You replied. “Lets go.”

“My car is out front.” Bryan replied. He wrapped his arm around your waist as you made your way back out to the cold Chicago air. Fireworks continued to go off above as you and him drove off into the night to continue the celebration.

FIN.

--

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[crashdevlin]

Another Second Chance 1- Black Hole

Another Second Chance Masterlist,  Happily Ever Eventually Masterlist

Author’s Note: The final (hopefully) installment of the Happily Ever Eventually RPF series.

Summary: It's been five years since Jensen broke Y/n's heart and she's avoided him completely, but avoidance only lasts so long.

Pairing: past Jensen x Reader

Word count: 2302

Story Warnings: past cheating, little bit of background angst, mostly no warnings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things change. Either gradually or in catastrophic leaps, things change. Fact of life, unfortunately. Songs have been sung, books have been penned, movies have been made, all centered around that single inarguable fact.

When I was a younger woman, I thought that nothing really ever changed, that the facts of my life were that I was weak and stupid and I was always going to be in love with people who didn’t want me and were too good for me, that I was going to be miserable and alone forever. I was certain that I was the same person at 26 that I was at 16 and that’s just how things were always going to be.

I can honestly say, at 34 years old, I’m a different woman than I was at 16 or 26 or 30...and I may be alone, but I am not miserable.

I’m successful. I’m happy. I have friends and I have fans. I am well-rounded and, despite a hundred things working against me, well-adjusted. I’ve learned that I don’t need to be dating someone to be happy. In fact, without all the drama surrounding me whenever I do date someone, I’m happier. I have my children and I have my friends and I am happy. 2025 is shaping up to be one of my best years yet and I am ecstatic to see where it leads.

I’m sitting at my computer when my phone goes off. I don’t recognize the number so I Google it. King Woods Private School, the school Jensen wants to send Mav to. Weird that they’d call me when Jensen has primary custody. I answer immediately. “Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/l/n? Maverick Ackles’ mother?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Hi, Ma’am. I’m Caroline Smith, Dean of Admissions for King Woods Private School. Your son’s father applied to our institution for the Fall semester for Kindergarten.”

“Oh, yeah. He told me. Said his father is very excited to get him in there.”

“His father didn’t tell you?”

“Mav’s nanny mentioned it, too, but...Jensen and I-”

“Had a very public falling out a few years ago, we’ve done our research,” she interrupts me. “But the thing is, King Woods is a very family-oriented institute and we need both parents to participate in all activities like monthly PTAs and volunteer nights. We need to make sure that both active parents can work together amicably. On that note, we have an admissions interview with little Maverick on Friday and we require your presence. Can you make it? 10:30 am.”

“Ten-thirty on Friday? Y-yeah. I can...I can totally do that. I will...see you then, Mrs. Smith.”

“See you then, ma’am. I’m looking forward to meeting you and your son. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” I set my phone to the side of my laptop and take a deep breath. Jensen and I haven’t been in the same room since NolaCon 2020. We’ve emailed a few times, but haven’t even spoken on the phone...in several years...and that’s better. It’s better for everyone if we don’t talk because then we don’t argue and we don’t fall into patterns that leave us in bad shape.

But for Maverick’s future, for Maverick’s good, I will have to do it.

I call Misha. He encourages me and tells me it’ll be okay. He supports me. He’s an amazing friend, has been for years, one of the few I got in the breakup. Most of our friends specifically didn’t take sides. Kim and Briana and Misha, they sided with me...the girls a little more vocally than Meesh, but it ended up a small rift between Misha and Jensen. I put an end to J2M and it hurts a bit when I think about it. They still talk sometimes but nothing like they used to.

Jared still talks to me every once in a while, but he sided with Jensen. Of course he did. Jensen’s his brother. But Jared tries to keep me involved in his life, he tries to stay a friend...but he’s Jensen’s first, always has been.

“It’s gonna suck,” I say, shaking my head.

“Yeah. But still. You gotta do it, right?” Misha says and I chuckle. To the point with Mr. Collins.

“Yeah. I gotta do it. It’s just...I haven’t seen him in years. I mean...except pictures on Instagram. It’s gonna be weird.”

“You know what I say about weird, right?”

“Yeah. But this isn’t the GISH and Random Acts kinda weird, this is...a pit in my stomach that feels like a bowling ball and a fear of reversion to the person I was in the past kinda weird.”

“You’ve grown too much to revert and that bowling ball will go away when you get comfortable again.”

“That’s…that’s the problem. What happens if I get comfortable with him again, Misha?” I’m scared of it. “He’s like this black hole that sucks me in every time and the only way I’ve been able to stave off the destruction of my universe these last five years is to keep my distance. I don’t know what to do when I’m in close proximity to the black hole.”

“You can do this, Y/n. You won’t have any problems...and maybe Jensen’s grown over the last five years, too.”

“Well, you’ve talked to him more than I have. You’d know how much growing he’d done.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re spending all our time together anymore.”

I nod. “So...hope for the best, that he’s grown and things will be okay, and keep my distance from the dark vortex.”

“Exactly.” Misha smiles and looks directly at the camera. “You got this.”

Yeah, I do. I got this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wear an embroidered black silk Joanna Mastroianni dress to the interview. Not a lot of makeup, but enough to accentuate my features. I keep my hair out of my face and I wear sensible, cute shoes. I look good, but not like I’m trying to look good. I look like I’m trying to look presentable and classy for the people in charge of my son’s education.

I make it to the school first and I sit in a plush chair in the waiting room and wait with my legs crossed neatly to the side. I pull out my phone and start playing a game of Solitaire.

“Mommy!” Maverick’s voice pulls my attention away from the Seven of Hearts that is stuck behind the Six of Diamonds that is arresting my forward momentum in the game. I smile as he runs at me, full-speed, and I slip my phone in my purse as he throws his arms around my neck. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Mav!” I exclaim. I lean back and look into the beautiful green eyes he inherited from his father. “Have you been having fun with Daddy?”

“Yes! All the time!” Mav says.

He turns his head to look at the door to the lobby as Jensen walks in. Holy shit. He let his hair grow out a bit...little longer than when he was playing a demon. It's multi toned, what would be called 'Salt and Pepper' in any other man, but it looks more like 'Walnut and light Roux' on him. He's rocking his ginger beard and it has some actual salt in the color. He's wearing a blue suit...a masterpiece tailored to take away your breath. The man knows how to make an entrance.

He's still gorgeous...and I’m still stuck on him. Fuck.

I stand and take Mav’s hand as Jensen steps closer. I focus on his forehead. I can’t look at those eyes. I can’t look at those lips or those freckles on his cheeks. Forehead is safe. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his slacks and licks his lips. “Hi,” I greet him, and my voice sounds awkward, too high-pitched.

“Hey,” he responds and oh, God, that voice.

Breathe. Stay away from the singularity, avoid being pulled into the black hole. “You doin’ good?”

He nods. “Yeah. You?”

“Just fine.” Dying, being sucked into a vortex in space.

He opens his mouth like he’s gonna say something else when a tall brunette woman in a smart pantsuit walks out of the office. “Mr. Ackles? Miss Y/l/n?” We nod as she drops to kneel in front of Mav and me. “And this must be little Maverick.”

Mav turns and hides his face in my skirt. “Sorry. He’s a little shy around new people. He’ll warm up to you.”

“It’s okay. It’s natural.” She stands and extends her hand to me and then Jensen, shaking our hands. “Good to see you both here. So, we’re going to take Maverick in and watch him play a bit, get a sense of his social and developmental placement and if he’s a good fit for King Woods, then we will make that happen.”

Jensen and I nod, then I gently pull Mav away from my legs. “You’re gonna go with the nice lady and play with some toys, answer some questions, okay? You can rock that, right, buddy?” Mav nods and smiles at me and Jensen.

“And you two will be just fine out here together, right?” Mrs. Smith says. She’s making sure we won’t freak out on each other. Freaking out on each other is not the problem.

“Of course we will,” Jensen answers. “We’re gonna park ourselves right here in these chairs and wait for you to tell us how brilliant our boy is.” He winks at the woman and she swoons a bit...I have to stop myself from doing the same as I step back toward the chair I was sitting in before. She offers Maverick her hand and he looks back at me before he takes it and follows her as she leads him away toward a playroom. I play with the hem of my dress for a few moments as Jensen takes the seat next to me, his bowlegs stretching out in front of him a bit. “So...listened to that cover album you did...with, uh, Rob, Rich, and Mark. It came out real good. ‘A Little Dive Bar in Dahlonega’ was perfect.”

I look down and my cheeks heat up. “Thanks. Uh...you and Steve are working on Volume Four, right? How’s that comin’?”

“Pretty good. Not bad at all, actually.” There’s a moment of silence and I sneak a look at him. He’s biting his bottom lip. Black hole, black hole, black hole. “Oh, and how’s that Shakespeare thing goin’?”

My eyes light up and I look over at him. “Midsummer! Yes. My pet project! It’s coming. Rich has signed on to direct a few episodes and Matt signed up to be my Puck. I’m really excited to see what we can do with that universe. Fairies are so my jam!”

“Are you just producing and writing it, or are you gonna be acting in it?” he asks, leaning forward, showing interest, active listening.

“I’m Hermia, actually. It’s coming along very well.”

“That’s really good. I’m...happy for you.” He smiles and I bite my tongue. God. This is bad. This is so fucking bad. I look away from him. “So, uh, I heard that you RSVP’d to Padalecki’s July Fourth barbecue, but you never showed up.”

I shake my head and sigh. Of course Jared told him I flaked on Independence Day. “Yeah. I was, uh...I was gonna go but-”

“But then you heard my shoot in Georgia got rescheduled and I wasn’t gonna be in Atlanta like I planned so you decided not to risk runnin’ into me?” he guesses.

“Yeah.” I nod and look over at him. “It was fine. I ended up watching fireworks with Nova over Skype.”

“You know...it’s been years. You don’t have to avoid me. We can be adults. Jared misses you.”

I lick my lips and nod. “It’s just hard for me to be around you. I miss Jared too, but I can’t be around you. It’s too hard.”

“This is hard?” he asks. I open my mouth to respond ‘Unbelievably’, but he keeps talking. “Because it’s not hard for me. It's the most natural thing in the world to me.”

I close my eyes and shake my head, settling back in the chair to lean away from him. “This is why it’s hard.” I open my eyes and pull my phone out to finish that game of Solitaire.

He doesn’t say anything else until Mrs. Smith walks out with Maverick fifteen minutes later. “They had a lot of toys in there!” Maverick shouts.

“Indoor voice, Mav,” I say as I stand up. I focus on Mrs. Smith. “So?”

She smiles brightly. “He’s a brilliant child. We would absolutely love to have him here at King Woods.”

“That’s great news!” Jensen exclaims.

“Indoor voice, Jay,” I joke before it hits me that I just called him ‘Jay’ and teased him. Slippery slope. Don’t get comfortable. “Uh, a-anyway. That is great news.”

“We’ll send you the information for tuition and supplies. It was wonderful to meet you both,” Mrs. Smith says.

I bend down and give Mav a hug as she walks away. “You’re awesome, kiddo. I’ll see you this weekend, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy!”

He runs to his dad and I pick up my purse, stepping toward the door. Jensen puts his hand out as he picks Maverick up to hold him on the other side. He pulls me into a half hug and I go stiff as his hand lands on the small of my back. God, he smells so good...and his hand is so big and…

I pull away and lick my lips. “You and Daddy have fun, Mav!” I almost run out of the lobby and into the parking lot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[pinknerdpanda]

A Terrible Idea

Word Count: 3.9k

Characters: Biker!Bucky x Stark!reader, Brother!Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Steve and Sam

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, drinking, rivalries, language.

Beta’d by: @shy-violet-soul​ Thank you darling! xoxo

@star-spangled-bingo​ square filled: “First I love You” (bolded below)

A/n: I’ve been sitting on this one for a few weeks and I finally finished it last night. I’m a sucker for Biker!Bucky and I hope I did him justice. Feedback is very appreciated!

X

A Terrible Idea

This was a terrible idea. 

I’d had a feeling it was going to be from the minute I’d agreed to come, but now, pulling into the parking lot of the ramshackle bar, I know for sure I’d been right. Rows and rows of suped up, carefully polished and exquisitely maintained motorcycles lay between me and the entrance. I groan, unbuckling the strap under my chin and sliding the helmet off my head. 

“Oh come on, Princess. It’s not so bad,” my brother chuckles in front of me. He dismounts before holding out a hand and helping me down, far less gracefully than he’d managed.

I shoot him a glare, tugging the hem of my dress down and shaking out my hair. 

“Says you,” I grumble, ducking to check my reflection in the tiny side mirror. It proves a fruitless endeavor, and I groan again.

“You look fine, y/n,” Pepper soothes, as she steps forward between us. “It’s going to be fun. Besides, when was the last time you went out. You need to let your hair down and live a little.”

Tony’s arm winds around her shoulders, tugging her against his side. The look of adoration they share is so sweet it makes me want to vomit.

“Your version of fun and my version of fun don’t always seem to mesh,” I prop a fist against my hip. 

“Well that’s because our version of ‘fun’ is actually fun, unlike yours, which is just lame.”

“I hate you.” I mutter, rolling my eyes. 

“No you don’t baby sister,” Tony laughs. “You just hate being wrong. Which you are. A lot.”

The familiar roar of an engine cuts off any further argument as a shiny, metallic blue Honda Shadow pulls to a stop next to Tony’s Harley.

“Rhodey!” Tony cheers as he watches his best friend cut the engine and climb off. 

“Hey Tone. Pepper, y/n - looking beautiful as always,” Rhodey grins before turning his full attention to me. “I’m glad you came tonight. I thought for sure you’d stay home.”

“Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying.” Tony claps Rhodey on the back before ushering us all toward the door. “Alright, party people. Let’s do this.”

The bar is sparsely lit as we enter, fog billowing through the room and obscuring what little lighting exists. Stale cigarettes, beer and sweat coalesce into an oddly comforting fragrance, and I take a deep breath before exhaling. Maybe this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

A large man wearing a leather vest covered in menagerie of patches stumbles into me, the drink in his hand sloshing out and dousing me in a cold, hoppy shower. He turns, wide-eyed and apologetic before his expression twists into an unsettling leer, his eyes dancing over my body and making me feel more exposed than I already am.

The warmth of a presence at my back precedes the flash of fear that spreads across his face. I smirk at him, watching with interest as realization plays across his features, his eyes darting back and forth between me and my brother now looming behind me. Feet faltering, the man retreats, the remainder of his drink spilling down his front as he all-but-runs away.

“Jackass,” I mumble, adjusting the straps of my dress and turning toward Tony. “Thank you.”

“I’ve always got your back, sis. Besides,” Tony grins. “Syd Vicious over there knows better than to mess with me.” He shoots me a wink just as his name is yelled from the back of the bar and he makes his way toward the voice, Pepper and Rhodey in tow.

Rather than follow them, I make a beeline for the bar. I’ve been here all of three minutes and, already, I require copious amounts of alcohol. The bartender is tiny - slim and cute in her strapless leather dress and fishnets - but the look in her eyes speaks a warning that there is more to her than meets the eye. She smiles at me as I place my palms against the grimy surface of the bar and make a silent plea with my future drunk-self not to hit on her later.

“Two shots of tequila and a beer, please.”

She winks at me before turning to fill my request. 

“Not playin’ around are ya, sweetheart?” 

The voice startles me - not so much that it caught me off-guard, but more that the rich rasp of it sends a chill down my spine. Tilting my head slightly, I find the profile of a man, backlit by the lights flashing from the dance floor.

His hair is cropped short on the sides and only a little longer on the top. The line of his jaw is striking despite the scruffy beard peppering his cheeks. He glances at me sideways as he brings his drink to his plush lips and it takes a conscious effort to look anywhere but at his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

Two shot glasses and a bottle are placed in front of me next to two lime wedges and a salt shaker. I nod at the bartender, shooting her a wink in thanks as I take the first shot.

“It’s a party, right? Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do? Get lit and loosen up a little?” I quirk an eyebrow at the handsome man beside me before throwing back the second shot.

“What?” His voice is like velvet, warm and luxurious against my skin as he leans in closer. “No lime or salt?”

“What can I say? I like to live life dangerously,” I shrug before leaning against the bar, a smile curving my lips. 

He sits back, his fingers tracing the edge of his glass as he narrows his eyes at me. His gaze traces the shape of my body, but it’s not predatory or icky like the guy with the patches before. If anything, it makes my heart beat a little faster, even as I resist the urge to wrap my arms around myself.

I’ve never been one to feel completely comfortable in my own skin. I know, I know, everyone has body issues. But being the chubby girl in a family of skinny-ass bikers with model-like girlfriends and muscles for days does little for a girl’s self esteem. I’ve had boyfriends, but they all either wanted to “help fix” me by suggesting various diets and workouts or let me know how big of a favor they were doing by dating a “fat chick.”

Then there was Joey. He was gorgeous, funny, sweet and the sex was outstanding. I overheard him at the bar one night, joking with his buddies about how pathetic it was that I constantly “threw” myself at him. He showed at my doorstep the next night telling me how much he loved me and wanted to be with me. I made sure to let him know how pathetic it was to constantly throw himself at me and slammed the door in his face.

“You alright there, doll?”

The velvet voice shakes me from my self deprecation and I realize he’s staring at me curiously. Heat curls up the sides of my face and ears as his brows furrow. 

“Peachy.”  Mumbling, I grab my beer, taking a long swig and turning from his concerned expression.

His hand catches my elbow and I feel a jolt of electricity at his touch.

He says something, but I can’t make it out and I shoot him a questioning look. The music from the band has gotten louder and he leans in “Hey, I’m sorry. Did I do something?”

I shake my head and take another drink. He signals the bartender for two more beers before nodding to the back patio. He’s mouthing something that looks like “it’s too loud in here” as the bartender hands him the bottles.

He gestures to the patio and I feel him at my back as I make my way to the door. Several groups of people are scattered among the mismatched chairs and tables, but the air is crisp and the music is only a dull roar now. We settle into a pair of metal chairs in the corner and he hands me one of the beers.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear myself think in there. M’name’s Bucky, by the way.”

“Y/n. Thanks for the beer, Bucky.” 

He smiles and in that instant the moon is eclipsed by the crinkling around his eyes and the cleft of his chin. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this, huh?”

“Right.” Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “That line usually work for you or…” I trail off, gesturing with my beer.

He chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender. “‘S’not a line, just an honest question. You just don’t strike me as the kind of girl who hangs around these places, ya know?”

“Oh, so now we’re going with the ‘you’re not like other girls’ bullshit, huh? Smooth, Buck. Really smooth.” I quirk an eyebrow as he squirms ever so slightly. “Or is it because I’m too fat to be the stereotypical hot biker chick type?”

“No, no. You’re...that’s not...I didn’t…”

Laughing, I smack his arm. “Relax. I'm just fuckin’ with you. These places usually aren’t my kind of thing. Not any more at least.”

He sighs, some of the uncomfortable tension visibly draining from his face. “Yeah, me either. You're not by the way.” I tip my head questioningly. "Fat, I mean. You're gorgeous."

I shift, ignoring the heat prickling my cheeks. Unable to come up with a reply to his unexpected compliment, I clear my throat and change the subject.

“So, what brought you here, then, Bucky," I smirk, drawing out his name seductively and surprising myself. What the hell are you doing?

Bucky takes a sip of beer, a small droplet lands on his lip that he kicks away before nipping at his bottom lip.

"Duty and all that." He shrugs casually, despite the deliberate vagueness of his answer. 

I narrow my eyes at him, closing my hands around my bottle. The drink will be too warm for my liking after this, but I don't really care.

"Let me guess; club president and you've got to make an appearance at these shit shows for the sake of morale?" 

Bucky's brow quirks, his eyes twinkling in the starlight. 

"What gave it away?" He says dryly. 

I grin, unwrapping my hands and taking a long drink before replying. "The president patch on your jacket." I lean in and whisper. "It's a bit of a dead giveaway."

He chuckles then and the sound slithers down my spine. 

"You don't say." He eyes me curiously as his long fingers play over the neck of his bottle. 

The thought strikes me that he seems very...adept with his fingers. Gulping, I try desperately to push down that line of thinking as a warmth floods my body. You wanton bitch, keep it together.

"What about you, Doll?" He tips his head to one side, eyes still dancing over my face. It almost feels like he can read my mind and I hope to God he can't.

"My brother dragged me along. Said I wasn't allowed to stay home and 'hide from fun like a goddamn hermit' so...here I am." 

Bucky nods, placing his forearms on the table and leaning towards me. "I gotta say, I'm real glad he did."

The warmth from seconds ago creeps up my shoulders and neck and burns at my cheeks. Lost for words again, I smile and take another drink, draining the remnants of my too warm beer. 

"Y/n?" Tony's voice startles me and I whip my head around to find my brother stomping toward me, Pepper and Rhodey in tow. The redhead clutches the sleeve of Tony's jacket and she shoots me an apologetic look. The air suddenly sparks with tension and I glance between the trio very confused.

"Hey, Tony. What's going on?" I duck my head to meet his eyes, but he's staring over my shoulder, ignoring me.

"Barnes," he growls. "What the hell are you doing?"

I glance over my shoulder to find Bucky smirking, but I don't miss the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Having a drink with a beautiful woman," he replies, his voice teetering between nonchalance and irritation. "You two know each other?"

"Something like that, but I'm guessing you already knew that," Tony grinds out as Bucky rises to his feet.

The two men tower over me and I shift awkwardly trying to find a way out from between them. 

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean, Stark?"

Tony rolls his eyes, a huff of humorless laughter punching from his lungs. "Right. You expect me to believe you just happened to strike up a conversation with my baby sister? Give me a break, Barnes."

Bucky steps back, giving me room to slide from my chair and stand a little distance from them. He gulps and shoots me a panicked look. 

"You're Stark's sister?" The words are hoarse and low, as though it hurt him to spit them out. 

Frustrated and confused, I whirl on my brother. "Tony, what the fuck is going on?" 

Tony tugs his arm from Pepper's grasp and shoves an accusatory finger toward Bucky. "He's a fucking White Wolf, y/n. The goddamn president, in fact."

The shuffle of boots behind me draws my attention and I watch two men approach Bucky, flanking him. The man on the right is tall, blonde and has a face too boy-next-door to match his worn leather jacket. The other man grins at me, deep brown lips parting to reveal a gap between his front teeth. Neither of the men strikes much in the way of fear in me, but the menacing looks they throw toward my brother send a prickle of anxiety through my bones.

"I'd bet money that douche-canoe is only using you to try and get to me." Tony crosses his arms.

The patio has grown deadly quiet save for the full hum of music from inside. The static in my head, however, is screaming in rage and I return my gaze to my brother. 

"Is that so? You don't think there's a snowball's chance in hell he could actually find my company appealing? Is it possible that once - just one time - in your fucking life, Anthony, that something might not actually be about you?"

Rhodey stifles a laugh and Tony glares at him. I cross my arms and lift my eyebrows, watching him expectantly. 

"All I'm saying is that it's too damn big of a coincidence." Tony sighs before continuing, lowering his voice and clutching my elbows affectionately. "You know what happened, y/n. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he's using you."

Hurt and anger roar in my ears as I step out of his grasp. Of course I know about the rivalry between the White Wolves and the Iron Legion. I may not be as well versed in club politics as I'd once been, but the feud goes back for generations. The fact that my brother finds it more plausible that a man would want to spend time with me because of a decade's old grudge rather than simply appreciating my company stings. 

"That's not it at all, y/n," Bucky murmurs behind me, his words dripping with sincerity as though he can read my thoughts. "I had no idea you even knew him. You have to believe me."

Tears burn at the back of my eyes and I take a deep breath before turning to face him.

"And now that you do?" 

Tony grumbles behind me, but I ignore him. Bucky's face is drawn in confusion as he meets my eyes.

"Now that I do, what?"

"Now that you know who I am. Does that change anything?" I sniff, wrapping my arms around myself and staring at the toe of my black boot.

A second pair of boots steps into view and I look up to find Bucky standing directly in front of me. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, but I can't tell if it's unspent anger or a hesitancy to touch me. Finally he places a finger under my chin, tipping my head back gently.

"Not a thing," he breathes, searching my face for something.

When I step backward, his hand drops back to his side and he hangs his head. I turn to face my brother.

"First, I love you. You're my brother and nothing will change that. But right now you're being a giant asshole. I don't give a shit if he's a Hell's Angel or a fuckin' priest. Who I speak to and spend time with is none of your business. I suggest you find something else to fill your time besides dragging me into your club bullshit."

Pepper grins at me over Tony's shoulder. Rhodey looks concerned and maybe a bit disappointed, but says nothing. Tony nods, opening his mouth but closing it again.

"Tony, that's enough. She's a grown woman," Pepper soothes.

His lips press into a tight line as he grabs Pepper's hand and leads her back inside. Rhodey steps forward, patting my shoulder before following his friend.

I turn back to Bucky, his face a wash of awe, confusion and appreciation. I smile at him weakly, tipping my head back toward the door.

"Next round's on me." I glance at his new companions. "You, too. Pull up a seat and Bucky can introduce us when I get back."

Without waiting for a response, I make my way back inside, my legs shaking slightly and my lungs begging for oxygen. Apparently I'd been holding my breath for most of our little exchange outside and I relish the scent of beer and stale cigarettes as I inhale deeply.

----

A few hours and many beers between my confrontation with Tony and now, I throw my head back, howling at Sam. 

"He didn't." I gasp dramatically. 

Sam wiggles his eyebrows at me as Bucky groans beside me.

"Oh he did. Got it on camera and everything."

Giggles break free from my lips as I look at Bucky, annoyance twisting his features as he glares at Sam. I clamp one hand over my mouth and the other on his thigh as the giggles continue. Bucky looks between the hand on his thigh and my face as his lips curve in amusement and his pupils darken. 

Steve clears his throat and stands. "Y/n it's a pleasure meeting you. I think Sam and I will head back inside and see what Romanoff is up to."

"Aw come on, Steve. I haven't even told her about the time…" 

Sam's words are cut off as Steve grips his shoulder harshly. Sam coughs and sends me a wicked grin before rising to his feet.

"Another time," he winks at me. "You two stay out of trouble."

The patio is nearly empty I realize as I watch the two men head back inside. Bucky chuckles beside me, placing his arm across the back of my chair.

"Some interesting friends you've got there, Buck," I muse, but stop as I meet his gaze. 

Bucky licks his lips, his pupils blown even wider now as he watches me. My mouth feels dry and I squirm under his heated stare.

Just when I think he's going to lean in and kiss me, he stands abruptly. 

"Dance with me." 

He holds his hand out to me and I stare at it, dumbly.

"Come on, Doll. It's just us out here, now. A pretty girl gets all dressed up for the evening, she deserves at least one dance." He wiggles his fingers invitingly and I oblige.

He grins as he helps me to my feet and wraps his arms around my waist. 

"There's no music, Buck." I slip my hands around his neck anyway and he pulls me closer, rocking gently side to side.

"Don't need no music," he mumbles before burying his face into the crook of my shoulder. "We can make our own."

My fingers tangle in his hair as I press my cheek against his chest. The leather of his jacket is softer than it looks and I sigh, allowing him to lead me in a silent dance.

The murmur of voices inside and the comforting chirp of crickets nearby bleed together in a soothing cocoon of white noise as our bodies sway.

"I never thanked you earlier." Bucky's breath tickles my neck and sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.

I pull back to look at him. "Thank me for what?"

"For believing me," he says simply. When I narrow my eyes at him, confused, he chuckles and continues. "Everything Stark...err...Tony..." he corrects himself awkwardly, "... everything he said about me using you, I was sure you'd walk away. But then you didn't. Instead you just unloaded on him and I gotta say, y/n, it was pretty hot." 

I chuckle, dropping my head to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. 

Bucky continues, his voice carrying a more sincere tone. "I like you, y/n. A lot. All that shit between the clubs? I'm just…" he sighs. "I'm tired of it. All that happened between my granddad and yours? Who knows how much of it is even true or who's to blame." He pauses, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. "What I'm trying to say is. I'd like to get to know you more but I don't want all this rivalry crap to come between you and your brother. Family is family, ya know? And I'd hate for you to get…"

Feeling brave, I cut off his rambling by pressing my lips to his and he goes still except for the tightening of his grip on my hips. I slide my hands to cup his cheeks and pull back.

"I like you too, Bucky." He smiles widely at me. "My brother and I will be fine, we just need to sit down and talk things out after we've both cooled down."

Bucky nods thoughtfully, his eyes dipping down to my mouth before meeting mine again. One hand glides up my arm and over my shoulder before resting against the back of my neck. His thumb brushes against the shell of my ear and I shudder at the sensation. He smiles broadly before pressing against my head, and dropping his mouth to mine.

Where the first kiss was slow and gentle, this one is firm and heated and does nothing to keep my stomach from coiling in on itself. I drag my tongue along the seam of his lips and sigh as he parts them. He kisses me like our whole damn lives depend on it and at this point, I'm beginning to think they do.

When we finally break free, breathless and chests heaving, he rests his forehead against mine and hums in satisfaction.

"Remind me to thank your brother for dragging you out tonight," Bucky mumbles, pecking my lips, once, twice. "Maybe when he doesn't want to punch me in the face."

I throw my head back, joy bubbling from the depths of my soul as my laughter breaks the quiet stillness of night. Bucky grins and kisses me again. A voice in the back of my head whispers over the surge of desire threatening to overtake me.

"See, tonight wasn't so terrible after all."

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

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MCU Tags: 

@arrowsandmixtapes​ @jamielea81​

[prettyboy-parker]

welcome to albuquerque

rancher!tony x ranch hand!peter

warnings: there’s a bj scene, daddy kink (sorry!), tony and steve are divorced, tony calls peggy a bitch

words: 3.8k

Peter practically sulks the entire way to Mr. Stark’s house.

He can’t believe his aunt is making him be a ranch hand, without pay, for the entire time he’s there.

There isn’t much to do where his aunt lives anyway, so maybe it’ll keep him entertained.

But Peter can’t help and think the opposite as he leaves his bike resting against the worn, uneven fence enclosing Mr. Stark’s property. Peter slowly walks up the dirt path to the modest sized house on the property. A wooden sign next to the steps reads “Iron Man Ranch”, and Peter snorts at the name. He warily knocks a few times on the crooked door, and it swings open.

If this is Mr. Stark, Peter’s screwed.

The man is fucking handsome, with salt and pepper hair and a goatee that matches. (What Peter would give to feel that on his thighs.) Peter’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the man’s chest, blue and white flannel unbuttoned enough to let him get a glimpse of Mr. Stark’s chest hair and cross necklace.

“What do you want?” He grunts, leaning on the frame of the door, crossing his built arms across his chest.

“Hi! I’m Peter, Peter Parker.” Peter squeaks, outstretching his hand so Mr. Stark can shake it.

He doesn’t.

“Um, okay,” Peter hums, dropping his hand. “My Aunt said you were looking for a ranch hand?”

Mr. Stark is quiet as he thinks for a moment. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing as he studies Peter silently.

“Come on in, kid.”

Mr. Stark turns and heads inside, Peter rushing after him. The house is nice, a homey vibe given off by the decor and furniture. There’s pictures of Albuquerque hanging on the dark red walls, as well as many high quality photos of horses.

“Your aunt is May Parker, right?” Mr. Stark asks, sitting down at the old kitchen table. Peter sits down as well, nervously placing his hands in his lap.

“Yup!” He responds a little too cheerily. Mr. Stark nods.

“Figured. Talks about you a lot.”

Peter feels blood rush to his cheeks and he curses at himself silently.

“Oh, really?” He breathes, tapping nervously on the painted table. Mr. Stark smirks, leaning back in his dining chair.

“Only good things. Don’t worry, kid.” The older man huffs, stroking his beard gently. “Do you ride?”

Peter’s mind goes to the wrong place, until he realizes the man is talking about horses.

“Oh, I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

Mr. Stark exhales deeply, cocking an eyebrow.

“You realize it’s a farm hand position, right?” He quips, and Peter giggles softly. Mr. Stark is smiling now, wiping his hands on his blue jeans. “It’s no big deal. I can teach you.”

Peter’s mouth goes dry at the thought of Mr. Stark teaching him how to ride a horse.

“That would be super cool.” Peter replies.

“Tomorrow, 6 am.” Mr. Stark says with a smile, stretching out his hand.

They shake on it.

☀️🐴☀️

The midsummer air is dry on the bike down to Iron Man Ranch.

Peter thought summer was for sleeping in, notgetting up at 5 to tend to some cows. He’s lucky that Mr. Stark is very attractive, giving him some form of better entertainment throughout the day.

As the brunette slowly approaches the ranch, he spots Mr. Stark by the front of the fence, petting a pretty dappled horse. He spots Peter and waves him over.

“Mornin’, Pete.” He calls out as the younger jogs over. Peter’s heart skips a beat at the nickname.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” He chirps, coming to a slow walk as he shuts the gate to the fence surrounding the field. Mr. Stark just purses his lips, scratching his horse behind her ear.

She paws at the ground happily, the early morning sun glistening off her white and grey fur.

“This is Friday, my best girl.” Tony pats Friday’s flank affectionately. “You won’t be riding her, or Jarvis over there, but they need to graze.”

Peter looks over to where a chocolate colored horse is eating the grass farther away.

“She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark,” Peter hums, raising a gentle hand to scratch her neck. Mr. Stark smirks proudly, cowboy hat tipped slightly in front of his eyes.

“Let’s teach you to ride, kid.”

Peter follows Mr. Stark into the stables, nose scrunching at the smell of fresh manure.

“After we do this, you get to clean up the shit.” Mr. Stark quips as Peter steers clear of a muddy puddle.

He knows he’s not joking.

“That is what I signed up for,” Peter replies, but his voice catches in his throat when the come to the last stable.

The horse inside is gorgeous, with sparkling brown eyes and a buckskin coat.

“Edith, my American Quarter. She’s a real sweetheart. Got her from a rescue in Las Cruces.” Mr. Stark says fondly, giving Edith an affectionate scratch on the cheek. Peter holds his hand out so she can sniff it, and she does, giving him a lick. Peter giggles, petting her neck.

“We’ll get her saddled up, and I’ll teach you, yeah?”

Peter nods and listens patiently as Mr. Stark shows him how to put all the equipment on Edith. It’s... a lot, and Peter knows it’s going to take him more than a couple tries to get everything right.

“Okay,” Mr. Stark huffs, guiding Edith to stand in front of the wooden block steps. “You’re going to step up on the mounting block, put your right foot in that stirrup, then swing your left leg around.”

Peter somehow mounts the horse with ease, probably due to years of gymnastics.

“Good Job, Pete,” Mr. Stark praises, and holy fucking shit, his hand is on Peter’s thigh as he nudges the mounting block out of the way. The younger boy’s heart starts to speed up and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

“You’re going to hold the reigns in two fists,” Mr. Stark instructs, and slides his hand over his thigh and dangerously close to his crotch. The older man grasps the reigns like he explained, and Peter nods, in a slight daze. Mr. Stark guides the reigns to Peter’s hands, and the younger grasps the leather in both his fists.

“Perfect, perfect.” Mr. Stark compliments, calloused hand resting on Peter’s thigh again. The younger boy has to will his growing erection away, blushing furiously.

“Now squeeze her sides to get her to walk. Pull the reigns left to go left, right to go right.”

Peter does as Mr. Stark says, and Edith starts walking slowly. A grin erupts on Peter’s face as he gently steers Edith away from the fence.

“Wonderful, sweetheart. You’re a natural.”

Peter’s Brain short-circuits at the nickname.

Soon, with Mr. Stark’s encouraging words, he’s able to trot around the enclosure.

☀️🐴☀️

Being a ranch hand gets better and better.

It’s a lot of work, tending to the cattle and chickens and sheep, but he ends up putting on a bit of muscle. He just rides Edith everywhere, so there’s less walking involved. He passes Mr. Stark every so often, waving bashfully as the older man nods curtly. He even invites Peter to stay for lemonade and cookies in the afternoon. Mr. Stark is so funny and sweet, and Peter tries not to think to hard about lingering touches the older man gives him.

“We’re going to go riding today, kid.” Mr. Stark tells him when he enters the stables early Friday morning. Peter blinks a few times, since Mr. Stark tends not to mix up their schedule too much.

“Oh, um, where?” Peter asks as he watches Mr. Stark secure the leather saddle onto Edith. Jarvis stands a few paces away, bare except for reigns. Peter had to keep a straight face the first time Mr. Stark explained that he rides his horses bareback. (He tried not to think about how he wants to ride Mr. Stark bare back.)

“There’s a couple of trails in the forest back there. I’ve packed some snacks and lemonade.” He hums, scratching Edith’s neck once he’s done saddling her up. “Hop on and follow me.”

They do just that, Mr. Stark taking the lead as Peter follows out of the enclosure. There’s a cool breeze as they trot through the woods, birds chirping and leaves rustling. Mr. Stark yells out instructions or encouragement ever so often. The sound of running water grows louder as they travel on the path, and eventually it gives way to a clearing.

And a waterfall.

“I like to take the horses here to rest while we ride. I also like to take a dip myself.” Mr. Stark shouts over the water as he slips off Jarvis. Peter does the same, stretching his legs.

“I didn’t bring my suit!” He giggles as Mr. Stark ties both Edith and Jarvis to a tree.

“I don’t mind,” Mr Stark quips, winking at Peter. The younger boy’s face heats up as Mr. Stark takes off his cowboy hat, running his hand through his greying hair.

“You can swim in your boxers, but I don’t recommend riding back with wet underwear.” He laughs, unbuttoning his flannel print shirt. “Chafing’s a bitch.”

Peter tries not to watch Mr. Stark as he takes off his shirt, but it’s really fucking hard not to. He’s all working muscle, with a deep tan from working under the Albuquerque sun. Peter tears his eyes away when they drift down at the dark hair by his navel.

He busies himself with taking off his own burgundy t-shirt, shimmying out of his skinny blue jeans. Peter debates keeping his briefs on, but ultimately decides fuck it.

When he turns back around, naked, he has to bite his lip to stop himself from, moaning or some shit.

Mr. Stark is even more attractive naked, with muscular thighs that could crush Peter if he wanted to. Not to mention he’s fucking hung, even when soft. Peter has to tear his eyes away from the older man’s dick, blushing furiously.

Mr. Stark grins and wades into the water, far enough that the water is up to his chest.

“Come in, Pete!” He shouts, and Peter does, only because he doesn’t want to be exposed in the middle of the forest. The water is really fucking cold, but after riding in long sleeves and pants, it at least feels a little nice.

“Feel good on your muscles?” Mr. Stark asks, and Peter groans in response.

“My neck aches really bad.” Peter complains, water rushing down his chest as he sits up in the creek. Mr. Stark floats over to him, placing his cold hands on his shoulders. Peter’s breath catches in his throat and Mr. Stark needs the knot in his neck.

“I’ve been told I give good massages.” Mr. Stark hums, and a small moan escapes Peter’s lips. Not thinking straight, he looks back at Mr. Stark and rests his head on his wet chest. He’s handsome up close, with his deep smile lines and freckles from the sun. Peter’s lips part, and Mr. Stark leans closer, and-

They’re kissing.

His lips are warm and soft and perfect. The older man tastes like granola and lemonade, the lemonade he drinks like it’s whisky. Peter turns his body so he can cup Mr. Stark’s stubbled jaw in his small palm. Mr. Stark’s large, rough hands rest on the small of Peter’s back, lightly stroking the soft skin. Peter hums happily and leans into the kiss, gently grasping at the bottom of Mr. Stark’s wet hair.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter breathes when the pull away, catching their breath.

“It’s Tony, honey.” The older man mutters softly, wiping a bead of water away from the corner of Peter’s mouth.

“Tony,” The younger breathes, kissing him again.

☀️🐴☀️

“Steve, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Peter looks down at at the bead of moisture running down the side of his glass. The muffled voice speaks again, and Tony rubs the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not fair. You know that. I don’t give a fuck what Peggy wants, she’s not her fucking mother.”

There’s a shout from the phone and even though the caller isn’t even in the room, Peter feels awkward.

“Whatever. But I’ll tell you this, you’re not cutting my holiday visits short.” Tony huffs, hanging up the phone. He stays silent for a second, before banging his fist on the kitchen counter. Peter jumps, but gets up hastily so he can wrap his lean arms around Tony’s thick torso. The older man sighs deeply, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter’s mop of chestnut curls.

“You okay?” He asks, looking up at Tony’s upset face.

“Yeah,” He breathes, brushing a curl away from Peter’s face with a thick finger. “My ass of an ex-husband is cutting my daughter’s visit short for some vacation.”

Peter’s breath catches in his throat.

Ex-husband?

“You were married?” He asks, hand pressed against Tony’s chest. His head spins at the though of a wedding band around the older man’s finger.

“Yeah. He was cheating on me towards the end of our marriage.” Tony tells him, peppering kisses on the younger’s cheek. Peter giggles, running his finger along Tony’s jaw.

“Peggy?” Peter offers, cocking his head. Tony throws his head back and laughs.

“That’s the bitch.”

Peter pokes Tony in the side.

“But you have a daughter? Is she as cute as you?” Peter jokes, slipping his hands into the back pockets of Tony’s jeans.

“You’re hilarious. I’d say she’s cuter.” Tony quips, poking one of Peter’s dimples. “Morgan Stark-Rogers. My little girl.”

Peter feels warm as he listens to Tony talk about his daughter. It’s clear he really loves her, one of the few people who can wipe the usual scowl off his face.

Tony reaches for his phone, unlocking it and pulling up a picture of Morgan. She’s beaming at the camera, next to a dark brown lab that’s missing one leg.

“That’s her dog Bucky. He’s a bit of a moron.”

Peter rolls his eyes, nuzzling into Tony’s chest more.

“He’s cute. Hush.” He scolds. “Besides, I want to hear about Morgan.”

☀️🐴☀️

The days go by blissfully.

He spends more and more time at Tony’s, telling Aunt May that some of the cows have reoccurring health problems, but he really spends most of his time languidly making out with Tony. They never go too far, much to Peter’s disappointment. Tony always stops him if he starts getting too enthusiastic, directing his attention to the movie or show playing on the T.V.

It’s nice, though.

His aunt always makes him stay home on Saturdays, wanting family time, but instead of hanging out with her he’s usually grocery shopping.

He’s standing in front of the shelves of pasta trying to decide between linguini and fettuccine, when a familiar voice speaks up over the squeaking of wheels.

“Peter, baby!”

Tony stands behind his ugly green cart, smiling wide. He lightly grasps Peter’s bicep, pulling the younger in for a quick kiss.

“Hi, Tony.” He says bashfully, placing the box of linguini in his basket. Peter can’t help but graze his eyes over Tony’s body, because he’s in a tank top that shows off his tanned, scarred arms perfectly.

“Daddy! Daddy! I found them!”

A little girl bounds down the aisle, hot pink package in her tiny hands.

Morgan.

“That’s awesome!” Tony replies, watching as Morgan tosses the iced animal crackers into the cart. Peter can’t help but smile at the two. Tony seems so happy when he’s around his daughter.

“Morgan, this is my ranch hand, Peter.”

Morgan clutches onto Tony’s jean-clad calf, peering at Peter with big brown eyes.

“Hi Morgan! Your daddy has told me so much about you.” Peter says happily, squatting down so he’s at eye level with the little girl. Tony tenses up at Peter’s voice, and oh, he had no idea that’s something he’s into.

“It’s time to go get our vegetables, Little Miss.” Tony hums, and Morgan groans, but skips down the aisle in her pink flip flops. Peter stands up, smiling, but Tony pulls him back by his jean pocket.

“You better be coming over tonight, sweetheart.” He growls into Peter’s ear, making the younger blush all over. Tony nips at his earlobe before walking after his daughter.

Peter stands at the end of the aisle, shocked, with a basket of linguini and Ragu.

☀️🐴☀️

“Tony, Tony, below the collar.”

The older man nods and latches his lips onto Peter’s collarbone, sucking at the silky smooth skin. Peter lets out a soft whimper, threading his finger’s through Tony’s greying locks.

“God, you’re so hot Pete, fuck. Should’ve done this earlier.” Tony groans, calloused hands sliding under Peter’s MIT t-shirt, squeezing his hips so tight there will be bruises tomorrow morning. Peter whines, desperately grinding his hips down onto Tony’s crotch.

“Daddy,”  Peter moans quietly right in Tony’s ear, grinning when he hears the other man’s breath catch in his throat.

“Baby, I need to get my mouth on you right now.”He grunts, lifting Peter up off of his lap like he weighs nothing. The younger boy shakes his head, slightly sweaty curls bouncing around.

“Wanna suck you off, daddy,” He purrs, pressing lazy kisses to Tony’s sharp jawline. He bites his lip and throws his head back.

“On your knees, sweetheart.”

Peter obeys, situating himself between Tony’s legs. The silver fox looks like a fucking god, legs spread as he rubs his growing bulge through his jeans, gazing down at Peter with arousal-clouded eyes.

Peter giggles and rubs his hands up and down Tony’s thighs.

“You’ve ever sucked cock before, baby boy?” Tony asks, gently running his thumb over the corner of Peter’s mouth. He nods, eagerly grasping at the button of Tony’s Levi’s.

“Hm. Naughty.” Tony hums, squeezing Peter’s neck gently. “Do those college boys make you feel good?”

“No, not as good as you can, daddy.” Peter whimpers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the front of Tony’s jeans. The older man hisses, hurriedly yanking down his zipper, and pushes his pants down to his thighs. There’s a noticeable bulge in the front of his navy blue American Eagle boxers.

Trendy.

Peter kneads his cock a few times before pulling it out of his boxers. His mouth waters as the older man’s cock stands at half mast, flushed a dark angry red, a thick vein on the underside of the it.

“Think it’ll fit, baby?” Tony chuckles, stroking the young boy’s cheek.

“Maybe with a little struggle.” Peter says with a wink, pressing a few kisses to the hot skin. The erection jumps, and Tony groans as Peter chases it with his tongue. He starts sucking softly on the slick head, massaging Tony’s heavy balls.

“Love your mouth, Pete.” He moans, gripping Peter’s curls in his hands. Peter eases a few inches more into his mouth, relaxing his throat to the best of his ability. Tony bucks his hips up involuntary, causing Peter’s eyes to sting with tears.

“You taste so good, daddy.” Peter moans, pumping his wrist up and down. Tony exhales deeply, gripping the side of the couch with a death grip.

“Get your mouth back on me, baby, daddy’s close.”

Peter smirks and strokes Tony’s cock slower.

“Losing your stamina, old man?” He teases, squeezing the base of Tony’s dick. His own cock throbs with need, but he wants to get his daddy off first.

“Fuck you, Pete. I can last until the morning, you’re just so fuckin’ hot.”

Pleased with his answer, Peter takes Tony’s cock as far as he can, breathing in the musky scent of his neatly trimmed pubic hair. He starts moving his head, loud, slick noises cutting through his arousal filled brain.

“Ah, honey,” Tony groans, and his hips buck up once, then twice, before he shoots his load down Peter’s throat. The younger boy swallows, pulling off of Tony’s cock with a loud pop.

“Get up here, baby, come fuck into my fist.”

Peter moans as he shimmies out of his jeans, then briefs, small pink cock smacking against his stomach. He scrambles onto Tony’s lap, humping his thighs as he spits into his hand.

“Come on, pretty boy, get yourself off.” Tony hums, making a tight circle with his hands. Peter whimpers and tries to slip his hard length into Tony’s fist, but misses on the first try. Tony helps him out, and Peter starts humping into his fist.

“Peter, come on, you can do it, come for daddy.”

Peter comes with a cry, gripping onto Tony’s broad shoulders.

“Tony, Tony,” He whines, his now soft cock pressing uncomfortably against the other’s hot skin.

“You did so good for me Peter, so good.”

Peter smiles, breathlessly.

☀️🐴☀️

“Peter! Peter! Peter! Look at the unicorn!”

Peter laughs as Morgan pulls on his hand, pointing her chubby finger at the giant pink unicorn stuffed animal.

“I see it, Morg.” Peter tells her, bright neon carnival lights bouncing off his skin. Tony’s hand rests on the small of his back, thumbing at the cloth of his sweatshirt. (Well, it’s actually Tony’s old MIT sweatshirt, but he likes to think it’s his now.)

“Daddy, can I get it?” Morgan pleads, eyeing the clown water game.

“Morguna, honey, you already have a unicorn.” Tony says softly, gesturing to the smaller purple unicorn tucked under her arm.

“But-“

“Morgan.”

Morgan pouts and looks at Peter.

“How about we go on the Ferris Wheel?” Peter offers, trying to steer clear of meltdown. Morgan lights up, and Tony lets out a breath.

“That was close,” Tony mumbles as the maneuver their way through the Fourth of July crowd. He was surprised when Tony invited him to take Morgan to the festival, hell, even the girl wanted Peter to go too.

Morgan practically shoves the 6 tickets into the ride operator’s hand. The teenager rolls his eyes and swings open the gate, Morgan clambering in, then Tony, then Peter.

She’s practically vibrating with excitement, swinging her tiny little legs as Tony not-so-subtly slips his arm around Peter’s shoulder. The ride starts with a lurch, and Morgan squeals happily.

The field sparkles with the lights of the endless rides and games, the people all mushing together into one big blob. The air is cool at the top, stars twinkling in the inky sky.

Tony’s rubbing his thumb down Peter’s neck, and it takes a few moments for Peter to realize he’s staring at him.

Lovingly?

“Daddy, is Peter like Papa? You used to look at Papa like that.”

Peter freezes and Tony tenses up. The older man’s eyes glaze with moisture, and he swallows thickly.

“Yeah baby, Peter, well, I don’t want Peter to leave this time.” He croaks, smiling softly at the younger.

Peter leans over and holds him tight.

☀️🐴☀️

You Are Now Leaving

Albuquerque

Come Back Soon!

[caffeineivore]

Commission#4

For @vchanny-og

Prompt: Makoto teaches the girls to cook. To commission me please click here for information! To see what other people are offering up commissions please see here!

The recipe for peanut butter cookies is fool-proof, three-ingredients. Four, if you added chocolate chips. The first time that Makoto had made them, Usagi had eaten two dozen by herself, and when she’d found out how easy they were, she’d begged and whined and pouted until Makoto had agreed to teach her. 

“Mamo-chan would love these, don’t you think? Especially if we add chocolate! And peanut butter is healthy and has lots of protein so he wouldn’t even disapprove!”

Eggs. Crunchy peanut butter. Sugar. Chocolate chips. Parchment-lined baking sheet for 11 minutes at 170 degrees Celsius. 

Makoto lines up all the ingredients on the counter, helpfully preheats the oven to the correct temperature. She goes out to her balcony to check on her plants, and is halfway through dead-heading some leggy basil when the smell of smoke comes wafting through the open door. Thoroughly alarmed, she drops her clippings and runs in, yanks the oven open to find lumps of what look to be charcoal. Usagi’s wail could pass for a fire engine careening onto the scene complete with lights and sirens. 

“I don’t know what happened, Mako-chan! I didn’t do anything except what you asked, and now everything is ruined and there are NO COOKIES and you are probably going to be mad at me!”

With a long, windy sigh, Makoto checks the counter. Peanut butter, check. Sugar, check. Chocolate chips, check-- and if she’s not mistaken, Usagi dumped in about half a cup more than the recipe called for. A bowl of cracked open eggs, yolks almost mockingly bright orange, winked up at her. 

Makoto shakes her head, sends Usagi out to the bakery, and cuts up some peppers and tomatoes, retrieves her snipped basil. It seemed like she’d be having omelettes for dinner. 

**

“So we sear the steak at a high temperature in a cast-iron skillet to take advantage of the Maillard reaction for the sake of optimal flavour.” Ami scribbles some type of complex chemical molecule diagram on the margins of the recipe that she’d meticulously copied from Makoto’s cookbook, and does a few equations, and murmurs to herself. “I suppose that makes sense. The temperature of the cooking surface will exceed 140 degrees Celsius, which will cause the reactive carbonyl group of the sugar present in the molecule interact with the nucleophilic amino group of the amino acid.”

“Yeah. Something like that. And then you finish in a low and slow oven so you don’t overcook the meat. This is an expensive cut of steak-- you don’t want it to be cooked to death.”

Makoto did not care over-much about the complex chemical reactions and science behind the process-- it was enough, really, to know that as long as one controlled the temperature and time, and seasoned the pricey cut of beef simply but well (sea salt, coarse-ground pepper and a few sprigs of rosemary), one could have a fancy date night meal in the comfort of one’s own home. “Medium rare is the optimal doneness for steak, in my opinion. Use a food thermometer, cook it to 54 degrees Celsius, then rest for three minutes before slicing, and you’re good to go.”

“I understand the reasoning behind safe internal cooking temperatures,” Ami muses as she follows Makoto’s lead, carefully wiping down the cherry-red surface of her steak with a paper towel to dry it, then sprinkling on salt and pepper on both sides. “Obviously, you don’t want harmful disease-causing microorganisms to grow within your food product, and it either needs to be too hot or too cold for the bacteria and viruses and fungi to survive. But why are there exceptions to the rule? Your recipe says that a rare steak reaches the internal temperature of 51 degrees, a medium rare of 54, a medium of 58 and so on. Doesn’t that put the person who prefers to eat their steak rare at greater risk? How does a restaurant get around that liability? It’s not as though it can do a medical check of the customer to ensure that they have no history of immunological disorders or gastrointestinal problems. And what about nations which choose to ignore these limits altogether? We serve sushi and sashimi here in Japan, which is certainly not cooked to 62 or highter. The French have their Carpaccio and tartare. The Lebanese have their kibbee nayee, and so on.”

Makoto watches as Ami grinds exactly three shakes of pepper onto each side of her steak, then rolls her eyes. “How does your guy like his steak cooked? That’s all I need to know.”

Ami blushes almost as red as the meat she’s fiddling with. “Umm. Medium rare is fine. And he’s hardly ‘my’ guy. More of Mamoru’s, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’ve already split hairs over the science of cooking. I don’t think I have enough energy to argue over the exact nature of your relationship with the mouthy blond menace. Do you think you can put together a nice green salad to go with these steaks? That way we can get done quicker, and I can make myself scarce before he comes here.”

**

Makoto knows better than to attempt to teach Rei anything too outlandish in the kitchen. Rei is a traditionalist in every sense of the word, and probably would not be caught dead in some hipster gastro-pub serving deconstructed salad of micro-greens topped with lobster foam something-or-another no matter how many Michelin stars and James Beard awards the place might have won. Rei is also reasonably competent with her hands and not particularly accident-prone, so something like steamed gyoza seems right up her alley. Sure, making the filling and dough from scratch is an extra effort, but her friend had never been the type to settle for mediocre and ordinary.

Her first warning that things might not turn out quite so well is when Rei takes a full step back when she sets the food processor on the counter. “What is that?” 

Her tone could only have been snottier had the food processor been possibly coated in dung and mildew and maybe plastered with boy band stickers. “It’s a food processor. So we can easily chop up the chives, grind up the pork.”

“I have a perfectly serviceable set of knives here.” Rei turns up her aristocratic little nose and points to the knife-block, which, to be fair, holds a set of heirloom-quality blades. Trust the senshi of war to know her sharp objects, Makoto thinks drolly, but she acquiesces. “All right. You can mince the chives with that, I guess. But I’m using the food processor to grind the meat.”

They both get to work, and Rei glares at the machine as soon as it starts up as though the noise offended her on a personal level. She’s not bad-- indeed, her cuts are decent even by chef standards, but by the time Makoto has finished up her meat and mixed in soy sauce and ginger and garlic and a pinch of allspice and an egg, she’s only about a quarter of the way done with her chives. Slowly and stubbornly, she soldiers on as Makoto measures out flour and water and a pinch of salt. 

“What in the world is that?”

Now, the question is directed towards the stand mixer plugged into the wall outlet. Makoto doesn’t even dignify that with a response, and dumps in flour, salt and water, lets fly. Sure, she can knead the dough by hand if she wanted to. And stretch it, cut it, roll it out for the dumpling wrappers. And maybe, if he’s very, very lucky, Jun would have gyoza sometime within the next two years. She’s just about ready to start rolling the dough when Rei finally finishes cutting the chives by hand, and dumps them into the bowl of the ground meat mixture, scowling at the way the damp green mince clings to her fingertips. Makoto finishes mixing the filling, then shows Rei, quickly, how to pinch the edges of the dumpling shut. 

She waits until the knives are washed and put away and the pot is simmering before turning to her friend with a mischievous look, tongue firmly tucked in cheek. “Well. I’m sure Jun will appreciate your painstaking work on this meal, doing things the old-fashioned way by hand. He’ll know just how much you care from the sheer effort you went through.”

If looks could kill, Makoto would be buried six feet under complete with an ugly angel-shaped monument and an elaborate wreath of flowers on her grave. She manages to keep a straight face while she takes the dumplings out the pot, then excuses herself. She’s still laughing when she arrives at her own apartment a good half-hour later. 

**

Leave it to Minako, of course, to want to learn the most complicated, exotic dish of them all. 

“I think it would be perfect! He doesn’t eat pork or beef, and I love spicy food, and I know you’ll help me and it will turn out wonderfully!” 

Makoto eyes the recipe bookmarked on Minako’s phone-- very heavily starred on Pinterest, and apparently the handiwork of some world-renowned celebrity chef. “Indian lamb curry, though? That’s… quite ambitious of you, Minako.” Indeed, the list of ingredients is daunting in and of itself, even for a seasoned home cook, and Minako’s idea of gourmet home cooking generally involved cracking an egg over her boiling ramen noodles. 

“Oh don’t you worry. I’ve watched a TON of youtube videos. And cooking reality shows. That Gordon Ramsay is HILARIOUS. And it all goes into the slow cooker, so it hardly requires fancy techniques and knifework and the like. All I have to do is toss everything in there and push a button and spend the rest of my time making myself look gorgeous and sexy, right??”

Makoto eyes the recipe again. She’s pretty sure that Minako has never heard of the term ‘garam masala’ in her life. “Maybe you should at least let me taste it before you serve it. Just in case.”

Six hours later a mostly-decent-looking sample of the dish is placed in front of her. The curry is an appetizing orange-brown colour, and the kitchen smells invitingly of spices. Minako had even taken the time to toss some finely chopped parsley onto the meat for a pop of bright green. Makoto is pleasantly surprised, and gives Minako an approving smile which lasts all of three seconds-- the three seconds it takes to put a piece of the meat in her mouth. She gags, and spits it out. “Oh, GOD! What did you put in this?! It tastes like the Dead Sea… if the Dead Sea were on fire!”

Minako shoots her a wide-eyed look from those baby blues, thoroughly bewildered. “Welllllll… all these videos said to salt with every step of the cooking pricess. So I did. It was probably like close to half a cup of salt total, because I added some after every other ingredient. And then I didn’t have tomato paste so I substituted ketchup. Basically the same thing, you know? And I didn’t have the tablespoon of fresh ginger, so I used a tablespoon of ginger powder, and shelled pistachios look just like cardamom pods for like a tenth of the price, and I used Old Bay seasoning instead of Bay leaves… But the only thing I absolutely couldn’t figure out at all was this ‘garam masala’ stuff! So I left it out.”

Without a word, Makoto dumps the entire contents of the slow cooker into the trash, picks up her phone, and dials the local Indian restaurant, Within short order, two takeout containers are delivered-- an Indian lamb curry, and an accompanying container of cheese naan and rice. 

“Just… put it in your own plates,” Makoto tells the other girl, shaking her head between gulps of water. “The kitchen smells like you’ve been cooking all day. It’ll be our little secret and he will never, ever know.”

[waywardnerd67]

Fangirl Dreams: Coming Home

Summary: Finally, Zac comes home but seems a little distant. With Jensen away for a convention, (Y/N) spends some quality time with him.   Characters: Jensen Ackles, Zac Levi, Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader x Zac Warnings: Fluff/Smut Word Count: 2959 A/N: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Check out: Fangirl Dreams Masterlist

(Y/N) walked into the main house on their property the silence deafening to her. Jensen had just took off heading to his one overseas convention. Looking down at her phone calendar, she saw Zac was due home any day now but until then she was left all alone. Walking outside onto the back patio, she sat down enjoying the warm rays of sunlight hitting her skin. Texas summers were miserable, but the day was turning out to be a beautiful day.

After lounging around for a while, she decided to keep herself busy cleaning the house. Jensen, Zac and her all lived on a large private property in Austin. The main house was where Jensen and she called home. Anyone who came into their house would never suspect that there was a third person within their relationship. About a mile down a long pathway sat another smaller house, that Zac had built for himself. To the world, they were just neighbors, but the three of them owned all the land together.

When Jensen and (Y/N) decided to get married he wanted to live somewhere away from all the hustle of Los Angeles. For the longest time, Zac had stayed in California traveling back and forth. Almost a year earlier he bought the land that was next to theirs and built his house. (Y/N) honestly spent more time in his house than her and Jensen’s but lately they all had been traveling so much that both houses were being neglected.

Flopping down onto the couch, (Y/N) pulled out her phone looking down at her text messages. Jensen was still flying across the Atlantic so there was nothing from him. Seeing Zac’s name, she read the last message she had received from him.

“Sorry for the radio silence. A lot on my mind. Can’t wait to see you. Love you gorgeous.” Was all it said, and it had been on her mind heavily since he sent it.

She had not heard from him since which was worrisome, and she decided to call him. “Hey this is Zac leave a message at the beep.” She sighed getting his voicemail once again.

“Hey handsome, I’m starting to get worried that I haven’t heard from you. Send me a text or something so I know everything is okay. I love you, bye.” She said leaving yet another message.

The sun was starting to set deciding she needed to clear her head some, (Y/N) started walking toward Zac’s house. As she approached it she could see that there were lights on inside. Looking towards the garage, she could see his car parked outside of it. The worry that had been heavy on her chest dissipated with a moment of relief before turning into anger.

She stopped for at the end of the path seeing him sitting outside on his porch with a bottle of whiskey resting in his hand. He looked upset and a surge of protectiveness coursed through her. His eyes were closed as she walked up and watched him bring the bottle to his lips. (Y/N) could not help biting her lip to keep back the moan wanting to escape.

Zac was slouched on a chair wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. She watched as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as the amber liquor slipped down his throat. As much as she wanted to straddle him to get him all worked up she knew what he needed right now was someone to just be there for him.

“Hey handsome.” She said softly as his hazel eyes locked onto hers.

Zac sat up setting the bottle on the ground next to him, “Hi gorgeous.” His voice raspy as if he had not spoken in days.

(Y/N) sat down on the opposite side of the swing of him giving him the space she knew he needed, “How long have you been home?”

He would not look to her as he answered the guilt laced heavily through his tone, “A few days. I knew you and Jensen would want to spend some time together before he left. I was,” he paused clearing his throat, “I am in a weird head space. Figured best I was alone.”

“How’s that going for you?” she asked swinging her legs slightly.

Finally, he looked up at her with a hint of a smile on his lips, “Not very well. Honestly, I don’t know what the hell is going on with me. I just didn’t want to burden you guys with my shit.”

(Y/N) immediately scooted next to him slipping her hand into his large one and hugging his arm to her, “Zachary Levi, you know that you never burden us with anything. We love you and care about you. So, what happened during your last trip that has you tail spinning?”

His hand slipped from hers resting on her knee as he shrugged, “Nothing really. The press tour was a great success. The boys were awesome as they always are for hanging out with a large man child.”

(Y/N) chuckled as he brought her legs up across his lap. His fingers trailing up and down over them as he continued, “I’ve done press like this before but never as the star I guess.” He hesitate as if going to say something else but stopped.

“Alright so you’re a little worn down and in need of a recharge. I totally get that, but you don’t usually isolated yourself from us and you never drink alone anymore. What else is going on that you don’t want to say.” He looked over to her before leaning back chuckling.

“You always could see right through my bullshit and call me out on it.” He said running one of his hands through his salt and pepper dark brown hair.

(Y/N) rested her head on her arm smiling, “It’s a gift.”

Zac scoffed then took a deep breath, “I’m lonely. You and Jensen can go out publicly any time you want. You can travel with him wherever he goes, and I guess it just really hit me how much I want that. Someone to travel with and show off.”

Her heart clenched tightly making her chest ache. Letting out a shaky breath she said, “O-Oh… yeah I can understand that. You definitely should have all those things with s-someone.”

She could hardly get the sentence out of her mouth from the sob in her throat choking her. (Y/N) averted her eyes as he looked over to her. It was taking everything in her to keep herself from showing the panic and terror consuming her from thinking of Zac being with someone else. She felt his fingers under her chin turning her face towards him and tears started slipping down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said pulling her onto his lap wrapping his arms around her, “I was saying I want to do all of that with someone else. I was saying that I want that with you specifically.”

(Y/N) let out a long breath, “Oh. I thought… I mean…”

He smiled briefly, “I guess I’m jealous which I know is ridiculous since I know we all love one another. I just want to be able to go out with you and not be scared that all of our careers will implode if they found out about us.”

(Y/N) relaxed against him knowing exactly how he felt. “I can relate to that especially now. I want to be by your side for all these amazing moments you’re having and going to have. You’ve always been a hard worker pushing yourself to the limit with projects. Now this movie is giving you the recognition you deserve.”

She wove her fingers through his hair smiling as he nuzzled his head against her palm, “Zac I’m so proud of everything you have and are accomplishing. You are such an amazing person and I want nothing more than to shout from the rooftops what I feel for you.”

“But?” he asked his eyes shining.

“But, we all knew going into this what it meant. Jensen’s and mine careers are set the way they are. This is as good as it gets, and we are okay with that. You, on the other hand, are just beginning to soar and neither of us want to ruin that. Even though, it would be amazing to be on the red carpet with both you openly.” She explained as he sighed.

A comfortable silence fell between them as the stars started shining above them. (Y/N) rested her forehead against his temple as her fingers ran down his large bicep. Zac pulled back slightly to press his lips against hers. His hands gripping her hip and legs as he deepen the kiss. When they parted both were breathless.

“W-What was that for?” she asked opening her eyes to see him smiling genuinely for the first time.

“Because I love you even if your logic annoys me. I love you for always bringing me back whenever I fall too deep inside my own head.” He leaned in kissing her again this time scooping her up and carrying her into the house.

(Y/N) peeked her eyes open the next morning as the sun filtered through the blinds in their room. Glancing to his clock she read seven in the morning sighing as her body was now waking up. She felt Zac roll away from her and she turned to see him laying on his back. One arm draped over his toned stomach and the other stretched out under her pillow.

Her eyes drifted down his body starting with his unruly hair and speckled beard getting thicker by the minute along his jawline. She brushed her fingers down his chest and over his abs that he worked hard on getting for his movie role. That is when he eyes landed on the thin bed sheet rising up from his hard cock. Instantly her mouth watered, and her fingers trembled from desire flooding her.

They had spent the better part of the night making love, but it did not matter. She could never get enough of him and she gently pulled the sheet down revealing the wonder that was his cock. He was thick and long always stretching her in ways no one ever could including Jensen. The two men were a lot alike in many ways but in bed they could be polar opposites.

(Y/N) was about to run her hand over him when he suddenly grasp her wrist surprising her. She looked up seeing his dark eyes staring at her. “Can I help you?” he asked his voice husky from waking up.

She smiled hearing a hint of playfulness, “I could think of some ways.” She said raising an eyebrow towards him.

Zac quickly rolled her back against the mattress his hips pinning her down while he hovered over her. Her hands running down his arms feeling every muscle flexing beneath her touch. (Y/N) let out a breathy sigh as he grinded his hips against her aching core.

“I really thought you would have had enough last night.” He whispered as his lips began a journey down her body.

She could tell he had only one mission as he breezed over her breasts continuing down her stomach. “What can I say I just can’t get enough of you, but if you can’t keep up old man…”

She looked down to his head between her legs as he looked up at her slacked jawed, “Old man?”

(Y/N) nodded trying to keep the giggle buried in her chest. His eyes narrowed on her and he flipped her over onto her stomach. She let out a surprise yelp as his hands pushed over her ass cheeks spreading them slightly. “I can’t help it that I’m six years younger than y-you.”

She stammered feeling his long index fingers running against her folds. They both knew she was baiting him to react and he did not disappoint. Grasping her hips pulling her up on her knees he pushed his cock inside her in one fluid motion. She cried out as he snapped his hips against her burying himself deeper with each thrust.

“Oh gorgeous… I. Will. Show. You. Old. Man.” With each word he would thrusted into her hard making her moan loudly into the mattress.

He leaned back pulling out until the tip of his cock was resting just inside of her. “Come on baby, I wanna see you fucking me. My cock sinking deep in you.”

(Y/N) slowly pushed herself back onto him getting on all fours now. Finding a steady pace, she felt the coil deep in her being pulled tighter and tighter. “Oh shit…” she called out feeling his meet her thrust.

“Fuck gorgeous, you feel so good on my cock.” He grunted his hand gripping her hips tightly.

Neither of them were going to last much longer and she groaned feeling him pulling out of her completely, “Zac! Shit, I was so close…”

“I know.” He said spreading her legs wider and she watched as his head slipped underneath her. Her eyes widen knowing what he was wanting for her. “You know what to do baby.”

One thing about Zac was he never shy away from anything that would get her to come. When she asked him if she could ride his face he had immediately laid down letting her grinded against his face. She pressed her slick lips against his face moaning as his long tongue slipped between them. Leaning forward she gripped the headboard as his tongue pushed in her and his nose brushing against her throbbing clit.

“Zac. Fuck just like that. Oh god I’m so close.” (Y/N) was grinding against his face chasing after the release she desperately needed.

His tongue flicked repeatedly over her clit as he sucked it between his lips and instantly her body was shaking coming hard, “FUCK!” she cried out.

As she slid down his body she felt his hard length against her ass and she pulled on his shoulder to roll over with her. His beard was glistening with her juices as she ran her hand over his chin pulling his lips to hers. “Zac, please… I need to you inside me.” She whimpered against his lips.

He slowly sank into her both of them groaning and before he could move his phone started ringing. “Shit.” He mumbled looking to see who it was.

The shit eating smile on his face told her that it was Jensen as he swiped to answer the call. “Hey Jay.” He grunted slightly rolling his hips against her.

“Hey, are you home yet? I’ve been trying to call (Y/N) but she’s not answering and I’m getting worried.” Jensen’s deep voice sent chills down her body.

Zac looked at her nodding towards the phone, “Hi pretty BOY!” she called out as Zac slammed into her.

There was silence on the other end until they could hear a door shutting in the background, “You’re buried deep inside her, aren’t you?” he asked his voice dropping to a raspy whisper.

“Oh yeah.” Zac said slowly thrusting into her steadily.

Hearing Jensen groan gave her goosebumps then he said, “I wanna hear come, Zac. Make her cry out and come hard until her legs are trembling.”

“Fuck. Me.” She moaned as both men chuckled lowly.

Zac leaned down whispering, “As you wish.”

He started picking up his pace thrusting into her steadily. The phone was right by her ear and she could hear Jensen panting slightly the image of his hand jerking over his thick cock bringing her closer to her own release.

“Oh god… I’m going to…” she could not finish her body wound so tight.

“Let me hear you pretty girl. I’m so close… fuck I wish it was your mouth on me rather than my hand. Pushing my cock so deep until I hit the back of your throat. Shit, shit, shit.” Jensen was grunting hard knowing he was coming.

Zac was mercilessly pounding into her now with his head buried in the crook of her neck, “Fuck, fuck, I’m c-coming!” His cock jerked deep inside of her and hearing both of them grunting her name had her body trembling as she came.

“Oh god… fuck Zac! Jensen!” she cried out breathlessly clinging to Zac as her body would not stop shaking.

She could hear Jensen still panting slightly as he asked, “Zac is she trembling?”

(Y/N) felt Zac smiling against her before lifting his head to answer, “Feels like a mini earthquake beneath me.” They both started chuckling.

“You two will be the death of me one day. Holy shit.” She said her body going limp against the mattress.

Jensen laughter brought a wide smile on her face, “As much as I would love to stay on here with you two I have to get cleaned up. Maybe next time we can do this through Facetime.”

“Oh Jesus…” she groaned as Jensen said goodbye.

Zac slipped out of her scooting down to rest his head on her chest, “It’s moments like this that make all the loneliness and jealousy go away. I remember why this relationship is special and why I wouldn’t want anything besides this.”

He looked up at her as she smiled, “Me too handsome. Now, lets get cleaned up, eat some breakfast and I’m going to kick your ass in Call of Duty.”

Zac smiled brightly up at her before crawling up to her kissing her, “I love your pillow talk. Sexiest, nerdiest girlfriend ever.”

“Damn right and don’t you forget it!” she said as they both got up getting their day started by showering together leading them another round of love making before breakfast.

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[cole-winchester]

Pieces

SPN FIC

John Winchester x Female OC Aiden Gallagher

Welcome to denial land! This Fic is set in pretty much present day. (Present day Jeffrey Dean Morgan) No one died! Everyone is alive…well, except Mary and Jess.. But Bobby, Ellen, Jo. The whole crew is alive.

Song inspiration - ’Pieces’ - by Red

Aiden is a 26 year old girl who has psychic visions and the ability to heal mortal wounds. Her visions plague her, taunting her because she never arrives in time to save the vitcim..until one vision haunts her for days, giving her time to track him down.

Will she be able to save this man?

Tag List:  @haleyea

Chapter One

I pressed my foot harder on the accelerator, forcing my wrangler faster down the rundown highway.  The streetlights flashing, briefly illuminating the dark road as I sped past them.  My mind was spinning faster than my wheels, digging through the different scenarios of how this would go down.  Would I get there in time?  Had I misread something?  My green eyes flicked between the scattered buildings on either side of the highway, searching and scanning each vehicle and sign before locking onto the truck in the lot to my right.  I slammed my foot on the brakes, screeching to a halt on the highway.  Car horns sounded as vehicles swerved around me.  I spun the wheel to the right and jammed my jeep into first, gunning it into the parking lot.  I cut the engine and jerked the e-brake handle as I came to a stop in the space next to the old black GMC pickup.  The cab of my jeep falling silent as I glanced around.  His truck was empty and there was a light on behind the shades of the motel room directly in front of it.  

My breaths came out in short pants as a slight ache began to stir behind my right eye.  

“Ah, shit."  I scrunched my eyes shut and leaned forward, resting my forehead on the steering wheel as the wave washed over me.

The vision hit me like a freight train, slamming through my mind.  The black truck sitting in the parking lot, the street lights reflecting off of the glossy black hood…a close up of the motel room door…number 23…the door opens and a dark haired man of about 50 steps out…he checks his phone…the date and time brightly illuminated on the screen….today’s date, 9:20pm…he pockets his phone and steps off towards the bar at the other end of the parking lot…‘Gerry’s’ painted on the sign above the door…there’s a flash and the man is being thrown out of the door of the bar…three men on his heels…he falls to the ground…they kick him repeatedly and his head snaps back, blood and bruises cover his face…he manages to stumble to his feet, his fists up to swing at the men…the lead attacker lunges forward, a large hunting knife glinting as he drives it into the man’s abdomen…the man crumbles over as blood begins to drip from his mouth…the attacker rips the crimson knife from him and the three men move off, laughing….the man drops to his knees before falling to his side, coughing and gasping on the blood as it seeps into his short salt and pepper beard…

And just like that I’m back in my jeep.  The ache behind my eyes pulsing as it begins to fade.  I pinch the bridge of my nose to help clear my eyesight as I try to regain control of my breathing.  This was the third time this vision had played in my mind.  The first one came two days ago as a dream.  After seeing the date and time on his cell phone I knew I had to act.  This had been the first vision to ever give me anymore than a few hours heads up.  I hadn’t been given this much detail or information in any of my previous ones.  This man was different.  I had to save him.  I spent the next day online searching the country for any bar named Gerry’s that I could find.  After locating it I realized it was a two day drive from the motel I was staying at.  I hopped in my jeep and gunned it, never looking back.  

I glanced at the clock on my dash… 8:00pm.  I was cutting it close.  I didn’t have much time to come up with a game plan.  

My phone vibrated in my pocket, jarring me from my thoughts causing me to jump.

"Hello?"  I said quickly, answering it without looking at the caller ID.  

"Aiden?"  

"Missouri?  Hey…I didn’t look at who was calling.  What’s-”

“Sweetheart, where are you right now?"  Her tone set alarms off in my head.  

"I’m in some run down town off of old highway 40 just into Oklahoma.”

“The motel lot next to Gerry’s?"  She asked. 

My heart dropped.  

"Wait…you had a vision about this guy too?!  How?!”

“Aiden…its complicated.”

“No shit!  This is the first time any of my visions gave me any type of forewarning.  I just got here.  He should be leaving his room in-" 

"An hour.  Yes.  Aiden listen to me carefully."  She dropped her voice and spoke slowly.  "He is not just some random man.  This is different.  You had this vision in enough time so you can save him."  

"I don’t understand.  Who is this guy?”

She paused.

“Missouri….who is he?"  My heart was in my throat as my pulse pounded in my ears.

"Aiden…he’s John Winchester.”

I about dropped the phone as the air left my lungs.  

Missouri heard my gasp.  “Girl you better keep it together."  

I cleared my throat.  "Holy shit."  

"Aiden, listen.  Don’t try and change anything of what you saw in the vision.  Let it play out as you saw it, otherwise you might not see something else coming.  You hear me?  You have your powers, sweetheart.  You can heal him.  You know what to do.”

My hand holding the phone began to shake.

“Aiden.  Take a breath.  You can do this.”

I forced my throat to swallow.  “Yeah.  Ok."  I sighed.  "I’ll call you after.”

“Ok."  

I hung up, dropping the phone into my lap as I ran my hands through my red hair.  I took a deep breath and sighed, opening my eyes to gaze at the motel door in front of me. John Winchester?! Why me?

I grabbed my keys from the ignition, retrieved my phone and stepped out of the jeep towards the bar.  I had about 45 minutes before he’d leave his room.  

"Fuck me."  I whispered as I strode across the lot.

***

I fiddled with my whiskey glass on the bar before downing it in one swift gulp.  I was trying to keep my composure, but booze helped my energy flow and got my mind focused.  God knows I’d need it for this.  Sure, I’d healed people…but not like this…and most definitely not John fucking Winchester!  I’d never met the man but I’d heard all of his stories from Missouri or different hunters that I’d crossed paths with.  Some hated him, called him a hot headed drunk, others couldn’t speak high enough about him and his boys.   And now it was up to me to save his life…no pressure. 

I wasn’t sure how I was going to play this out.  My vision didn’t show me if we interacted or not.  Do I talk to Him? Do I just sit back and watch?  God this was too much…I ordered another whiskey when I felt a spark in the air as the door to the bar opened.  My shoulders stiffened as my gaze shot to the door.  

There he was.  

My heart about stopped as our eyes met for a second.  That second seemed to freeze in time, feeling like an eternity as his brown/hazel eyes locked with my emerald ones.  I broke the moment and turned back to my glass.  This man was much different than my vision.  I’d mainly only seen the back of his head and his bloodied face on the pavement.  This man…He was gorgeous to say the least.   Tall, an obvious strapping build underneath his jacket… His jeans hugging him in all the right places… His dark hair and short salt and pepper beard… Not to mention his aura was off the charts.  A deep purple swirling and pulsing around him.  I was fascinated, his aura, his demeanor, he just drew me in like a moth to a flame.  I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he made his way towards me and sat a seat away, leaving a stool in between us.  He ordered a whiskey from the bartender and his voice sent a shockwave through me.

What the fuck is wrong with me?!  I’m here to save this man, not get wrapped up in him when he’s just shy of twice my age.  Get it together!

I downed my whiskey and motioned for another one.  I saw John eyeing me as he took a drink of his.  

"Not to be cliche, but what are you doing in a dive like this?"  His voice rumbled through my bones.

I caught myself and put on a face, turning and smirking at him.  His thousand watt smile just about knocked me off of my stool. "Needed a break from the road.”

He nodded, placing his glass on the bar top.  “I get that.  But, a beautiful girl like you could catch some unwanted trouble in a place like this all by yourself."  His eyes drifted over to the group of men playing pool and my gaze followed.  I glanced over quickly and forced myself to keep my face steady.  It was the group from the vision.  Shit.

I chuckled.  "Yeah, they’ve been staring at me since I got here."  I said as I took a gulp off my whiskey.  "So…what about you, are you 'unwanted trouble?’" 

What the fuck?!  Where did that come spewing out of?  Get your head together!

He raised his eyebrows at me, smiling as he took another drink.   

I laughed.  "Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.  You’ve got spunk.  I like that. I’m John."  He set his glass down and held his hand out to me.  

"I’m Aiden."  I grasped his hand and a quick vision flashed in my mind of him driving his truck, turning and smiling across to the passenger seat.  It was weird and felt as if he was gazing at me…but why would I be in his truck?  

I smiled at him and released his hand.

We talked for a while, and I had shifted into the seat next to him.  His aura swirling and changing colors as his buzz began to set in.  

He got up after a while to hit the head and I ordered us another round.  Alcohol didn’t affect me as much as it does the normal person.  My powers caused me to have an elevated tolerance. I wasn’t sure why, but I definitely enjoyed it.

I’d never acted this way with anyone.  I’d always had my guard up and hardly let anyone in.  This man completely broke down all of my walls.  His aura seemed to reach for me, like I was a long lost….friend?  No.. it reached for me like I was something deeper… I laughed to myself and shook my head at my thoughts.

I was having a good night with John, lost in conversation and his charm, so much so that I’d forgotten why I was here in the first place…  

"Well hey there, sweet cheeks."  A voice come from next to me as a man leaned on the bar.  Chuckles and grunts came from the other men that had walked up surrounding me.

And then everything came rushing back.  It was the group from the pool table… from the vision…the group that kills John.  How could I be so stupid to let my guard down!  My rage began to burn deep inside me and I heightened my senses, putting everything on full alert. 

"Whatdya say you come take a ride with us?"  His breath reeked of beer as he leaned even closer to me.

"No thanks."  I snapped.  "Whatever it is you’re looking for, I ain’t it so why don’t you and your boys get lost.”

“Oh, come on now.  We’ll have lots of fun."  The man ran his finger down the length of my forearm.

"I said no."  I glared up at him as I tried to move my arm away and his hand clamped down on my wrist.

"I’m not asking-"  he snarled.

"I distinctly heard the lady say she wasn’t interested."  The man turned, still clenched on my arm, his fingers digging into my skin.  John was behind him, his jacket off and arms crossed over his chest, his black t-shirt snug around his arms.  He nodded to my wrist in the man’s grip.  His voice dropping an octave.  "I suggest you let her go."  John’s eyes darkened in challenge to the man, his aura swirling and sparking with anger.

It was then that I realized….this vision, was all my fault.

[warriorqueen1991]

Strip That Down For Me, Baby (pt. 4)

Characters: Negan X Reader

Warnings: fluff

Notes: please let me know if you want on my Negan tag list or my STDFM list 😘

—————————————————————

“Just move your hips baby…there ya go”

You blushed with a tiny giggle as Negan gripped your hips, he was positioned behind you his hips moving slightly. You were both leaning on the hood of his car as the radio played softly in the background.

After you had left The Safe Zone he had taken you to this beautiful lookout point above the city. It was like any good makeout spot you’d see on TV complete with dazzling stars and a cool breeze.

“See dancing is fucking easy” he rasped pressing his nose into your hair. You laughed “were just swaying back and forth Negan, we’re not dancing”. He chuckled “maybe by your standards gorgeous but this is the best fucking slow dance I’ve had in my fucking life”.

You bit your lip with a smile, your hands gripping his gently as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

Just when you thought he couldn’t get any more perfect, he would blindside you with something even more romantic than the last.

“So what’s wrong with you?”

He chuckled “what?”

You giggled turning to face him “you’re just too perfect, so I’m wondering what’s wrong with you?”

He laughed pulling you close “oh there’s plenty wrong with me darlin, but nothing you need to worry about”. You cocked an eyebrow at him before giving him a short laugh “that’s comforting”. He purred “it should be, oh but I should warn you…this is my favorite spot to dispose of bodies”.

Your body tensed up, you couldn’t help the jolt of fear at his rumbling voice.

He chuckled “I’m kidding darlin geez” you snorted “you’ve got a hell of an intimidating voice there handsome”. He let out a wheezing laugh “handsome huh?”

You giggled patting his cheek “like you didn’t already know that” he growled “well according to Rick I’m about as fucking handsome as the bottom of a worn shoe”. You burst into laughter “well he doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it”.

Your smile faded as he looked down at you, his beautiful hazel eyes were almost glowing in the shimmering starlight.

“You mean that?”

You gave him a dazed expression before blinking back to reality “mean what?”

He frowned “you think I’m a good thing?” you gave him a soft smile, why would he question that? Who in the world would make him think otherwise?

You were surprised by how much the thought of someone hurting him was pissing you off.

“Of course I do Negan, you haven’t given me a reason not too”.

He smiled “nights still young” you were both staring into each other’s eyes, your skin was heating up as his eyes drifted to your lips once more. You wanted to kiss him, but this was only your first date…you didn’t want to move too fast.

Making his own decision, Negan leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. His nose brushing against you in a feather light touch as he closed his eyes “if I kiss you, will you run away?”

You smiled “should I?”

Smiling softly his hand caressed your jaw, his lips pressing against yours hesitantly.

It was like a spark lit between your lips, your hands moved to cup his rough cheeks as you opened your mouth for him. His tongue caressed against yours gently as he leaned further into your touch, his fingers sliding to your neck making you shiver.

Letting your hands run down his neck to grip his suite vest you smiled against his lips as he nuzzled against your nose. You pulled back slightly, your face flushed as you tucked your hair behind your ear nervously.

Negan chuckled biting his lip as he leaned back against his car, he was eyeing you curiously as you rolled your lips.

“That bad huh?”

You looked at him with a breathy laugh “god no…I…I mean” he smiled brightly letting those adorable dimples of his shine through his salt and pepper beard. You covered your face in embarrassment as he leaned in closer to you, his whiskers scratching against your neck sending goosebumps down your arms.

Kissing your neck he leaned back sliding his hands to grasp yours, Be Your Love by Bishop Briggs was playing softly in the background as he pulled you away from the car. Wrapping his arms around you he leaned his head down to rest against your shoulder as he began moving your bodies in slow circles.

You squeezed him tightly against you as a small giggle escaped your throat “you really like dancing”.

He chuckled “it’s how I express myself”.

Running your fingers up his spine so you could toy with the hairs at the nape of his neck, you sighed.

He was perfect.

“So how many women have you brought up here?”

Rubbing your back soothingly he pressed a small kiss to the side of your neck “just you”. You smiled “how many men?” he chuckled “none sweetheart I come up here to clear my head, so I like to keep it private”. Furrowing your brow you pulled back to look at him “so why me?”

Giving you a sad smile he caressed your cheek “you ask that an awful lot, can’t someone find you special enough to share something private”. You dropped your gaze, his fingers catching your chin to bring your eyes back to him “I’m not special Negan…we barely know one another”.

He smiled softly “will you let me change your mind?” you looked at him in confusion as he backed up against his car, pulling you against his chest.

“Let me show you how special I think you are”

You looked into his hazel orbs with heavy eyes, nodding slightly you went to drop your gaze again but were stopped as his lips sealed over yours once more. Unable to stop the muffled moan you gripped his face, returning the kiss enthusiastically as he exhaled heavily through his nose.

Your whole body thrummed in pleasure as he sucked on your bottom lip before moving to your upper lip, delving his tongue into your moist cavern he groaned. The sound making you gasp against him, your hands clutching his face desperately.

There was a heat building between the two of you and if you weren’t careful it was going to consume you both.

Pulling back slightly, he panted against your lips. His eyes still closed as you caressed his face “wow”, he chuckled kissing you softly before he pulled back with a heavy sigh.

“I could kiss you for fucking hours darlin”.

His deep purring voice did nothing to quell the heat building in your stomach. You licked your bottom lip with a small smile “I might just let you someday”. He purred “is that your way of saying you wanna go on another date with my sorry ass?”

You giggled “hmm maybe”

Scrunching his nose in amusement he pressed his forehead against yours with a deep chuckle “guess I need to fucking try harder then”. Blushing brightly you ducked your head to lean against his chest “no…you’re doing just fine”.

Yawning against his chest you covered your mouth with a chuckle “sorry”. Negan ran his hands down your back with a light laugh “…fuck sorry darlin, you wanna head back?”

Snuggling into his embrace you sighed “Honestly, no…but…” you yawned again causing him to smile brightly shaking his head in amusement.

“Well I got a couple blankets in the back…but it’s not exactly a fucking five star hotel out here”

You smiled tugging him from his car “do you have to be at The Sanctuary tomorrow?” he nodded “nah Simon’s got it covered…I mean I’ll probably stop by later but that’s completely fucking optional”.

You bit your lip nervously “so about those blankets”

He smiled moving quickly to the trunk to gather up the pleasantly thick blankets, moving back to you he offered them up with a waggle of his brow “pick a spot baby”.

Giggling you spread the plush blanket on the grass while spreading the other on top, glancing at him you blinked. You couldn’t help but stare as he unbuttoned his vest before loosening the buttons at his wrist so he could roll up his sleeves.

Running your tongue across the back of your teeth, you cleared your throat softly before focusing back on the blankets.

Toeing off your boots you snuggled in under the top blanket as he crawled in next to you. Wrapping his left arm under your head he pulled you to his chest, toying with the bracelets adorning his wrist you closed your eyes. His steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep as he pressed his lips to your hair.

He was absolutely perfect.

There had to be something waiting in the wings to snatch your happiness away, there always was.

You just hoped it would let you have it for just a little longer.

—————————————————————

☆TAG LIST☆

@embracetheapocalypsewithme @negans-network @jdmfanfiction @jdms-network @zoesmama2024 @noodlecupcakes @dixonsbait @ashzombie13 @artemisxeros @i-am-negan-trash @asshatry @dumplingjoker @robertdowneyjr-rdj @kristenallison04 @azanoni @ryangoslingstanktop @jackythemoo @ask-kakashihatake @staceyruby @collette04 @neganslittlebird @jmackie1983 @naughtybellax @a1iah @roguesandsaviors @hot-and-spiceyyy @haleyea @kalista225 @crowleyismysugardaddy @jdmsgal @neganswinchesters @absolutefandom-trash @wolfgirl1074 @negan–is–god @naniky

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

A Highlander Walks into a Bar by Laura Trentham

Highland, Georgia #1 Laura Trentham is an author I know will deliver a great story whenever I find a book to read that she has written. Being asked to participate in the blog tour of this first book in a new series was a special treat. I read the first book quickly and am eager for the next. Isabel “Izzy” Buchanan picks her mother up from the airport and her mother says she has a surprise. Izzy was a bit taken aback that the surprise was a man her mother “picked up” in Scotland. Gareth has a charming brogue and is a nice man but he is NOT her father. When Alasdair Blackmoor arrives, to check up on his uncle, Gareth, his brogue is equally intriguing. Izzy doesn't trust either of the men and Alasdair has similar thoughts regarding Izzy and her mother, Rose. Rose and Isabel are in the midst of putting on the annual Highland Games and both Gareth and Alasdair will be there for the festivities. Throw in some romance, some secrets, a company with dastardly intentions, a small supportive community, a hunk of a farmer guy with his eye on Isabel (hope he gets a story in this series) and a few others and this book was all that I hoped it would be. I can’t wait for the next book that will probably star friends of both Alasdair and Izzy – and the couple will definitely meet in – Highland, Georgia. Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Paperbacks for the ARC – This is my honest review. 5 Stars

Buy-book link: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250315021

BLURB

The timeless romance, soaring passion—and gorgeous men—of Scotland comes to modern-day America. And the rules of love will never be the same…

Isabel Buchanan is fiery, funny, and never at a loss for words. But she is struck speechless when her mother returns from a trip to Scotland with a six-foot-tall, very handsome souvenir. Izzy’s mother is so infatuated by the fellow that Izzy has to plan their annual Highland Games all by herself. Well, not completely by herself. The Highlander’s strapping young nephew has come looking for his uncle…

Alasdair Blackmoor has never seen a place as friendly as this small Georgia town—or a girl as brilliant and beguiling as Izzy. Instead of saving his uncle, who seems to be having a lovely time, Alasdair decides he’d rather help Izzy with the Highland Games. Show her how to dance like a Highlander. Drink like a Highlander. And maybe, just maybe, fall in love with a Highlander. But when the games are over, where do they go from here?

EXCERPT

From A Highlander Walks into a Bar. Copyright © 2019 by Laura Trentham and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

Chapter One

“I brought home a surprise!” Rose Buchanan threw her arms out wide as if embracing the world. From the sto- ries she told to the way she entered the room, Rose was exuberant and entertaining and enjoyed being the center of attention.

Isabel Buchanan, who was perfectly content on the fringes, pushed her wavy hair off her sticky forehead with hands that trembled from the nightmare drive through At- lanta to the airport to pick up her mom. Her mom’s trip to Scotland had doubled as both research and vacation. The jammed stop-and-go traffic had left Izzy flustered and al- ready dreading their exit from the airport.

Rolling her stiff shoulders, Izzy stepped around the bumper of the car, popping the trunk open on the way. Her mom had a beautiful plaid scarf of greens and browns and blues tossed over her shoulder and what appeared to be new earrings. Either purchase might inspire her mother to gush, and she would expect reciprocal gushing from Izzy. Making an educated guess, Izzy asked, “Are those ear-

rings your surprise?”

Without waiting for an answer, she hauled one of her mom’s giant wheeled suitcases closer and prepared to

2 laura trentham

heave it into the back. The sooner they got out of Atlanta, the sooner she could get back to work planning the High- land festival. Or she might pour an extra-large glass of wine and escape into a book. A guilty pleasure, consider- ing how much she still had to get in order in three scant weeks.

“Allow me, please.” A bearded man who had been roll- ing cases to the curb stepped forward with a grin and an accent Izzy couldn’t place.

She checked her pockets and winced. No cash to tip the man, and no hope her mom had thought of something so inconsequential.

“Do you like them? They’re hammered silver.” Her mom flipped her bobbed matching silver hair to the side and displayed one earring with her fingers. “And as a matter of fact, I did buy them from a lovely shop in Edin- burgh, but I brought something bigger home. Something more exciting.”

“Your scarf? It’s lovely.” Izzy gave her mom limited attention while she watched the man load suitcase after suitcase into her trunk, fitting them together like a puzzle. More luggage than her mom had left with. She waved to catch the man’s attention. “Hang on. That’s not all my mom’s stuff.”

For the first time, Izzy really looked at the man. He was close to her mom in age, and good-looking in a bear- like way with a gleaming white smile highlighted by a salt-and-pepper beard. His full head of hair was a shade darker, but graying heavily at the temples. The expres- sion on the man’s face when he looked in her mom’s direction—a mix of adoration and amusement—cleared the fog of confusion.

Lord have mercy, her mother had brought back a six- foot, two-hundred-pound-plus souvenir from Scotland.

AUTHOR BIO

Laura Trentham is an award-winning author of contemporary and historical romance, including Then He Kissed Me and The Military Wife. She is a member of RWA, and has been a finalist multiple times in the Golden Heart competition. A chemical engineer by training and a lover of books by nature, she lives in South Carolina.

Q&A A HIGHLANDER WALKS INTO A BAR

What inspired you to write A Highlander Walks into a Bar?

It was actually a Buick car commercial from a couple of years ago where a grandson picks his grandmother up from the airport and she says saucily, “I did a lot of shopping in Italy.” From behind her luggage steps an Italian gentleman. Of course, my writer brain kept picturing what happened after the three of drove off and twisted it into an entire story but had to make up a town for them to return to!

Another big inspiration is a real-life place: Helen, Georgia, is a town that has transformed itself into a German village. It’s picturesque and they celebrate Octoberfest every year. I twisted that concept and made my little town of Highland, Georgia, into a Scottish village including an annual Highland Games that the Buchanan ladies put on every summer which is an important aspect of the book.

Introduce us to your main characters!

Isabel Buchanan is the daughter who picks her mother up from the airport only to be surprised by the appearance of Gareth Blackmoor, who happens to be keeping his title of Earl of Cairndow a secret from everyone in Highland, Georgia, including Rose Buchanan, Isabel’s mother.

Alasdair Blackmoor is Gareth’s nephew and heir to the title and castle in Scotland. He’s been sent to round up his wandering uncle and to make sure he isn’t being taken advantage of by some pushy American women. Complications ensue, including love (of course!)

Lots of aspiring authors out there. Any advice for them?

To become a better writer, you must write. Sounds simple, but I know so many aspiring authors who get stuck in their own head. They plot and make inspiration boards and talk about writing, but when the fingers hit the keyboard, they get mired in doubts. Just get the words down. They don’t have to be perfect; they don’t even have to be good, but you can’t fix a blank page!

How is A Highlander Walks into a Bar different from your other books?

While it’s still a Southern small town romance, it has a definite rom-com vibe. Expect low angst and lots of laughs! I love to read reviews where they reader has literally laughed out loud at several points.

I know asking someone’s all-time favorite book is a loaded question so what’s your current favorite read?

Two series I have loved lately are Katherine Arden’s Winternight Trilogy (a fantasy retelling weaving medieval Russian history and folklore) and Deanna Raybourn’s Veronica Speedwell’s mysteries (a Victorian butterfly hunter teams up with a taxidermist to solve mysteries. I mean, seriously, how can you beat that combo?!)

Alright, the ultimate question: why should we read your book?

If you need a pick-me-up, good-time, laugh-out-loud book, then read A Highlander Walks into a Bar!

Favorite quote or scene you wrote in A Highlander Walks into a Bar?

As the woman continued to stare at him as if he were the bearer of the bubonic plague, his smile faltered. He stuck out a hand. “I’m Alasdair Blackmoor.”

Although he registered a split-second hesitation on her part, she took his hand. “Isabel Buchanan.”

Her handshake was firm and no-nonsense, but her palm was soft and her hand small in his. On closer inspection, her eyes striated into all different shades of brown and amber, and freckles dusted her cheeks. He hung on to her hand for too long, but couldn’t seem to pry himself away.

Breaking the spell, she wrested her hand from his, pulling it into a fist. Was she planning on throat-punching him? He rubbed his neck and took a step back, out of the radius of her magnetic energy, and her reach. On her approach, she’d seemed birdlike, insignificant even, but up close, he was having a hard time not staring like a first-class prat.

He was punch-drunk with exhaustion. It was the only logical explanation.

She stuck her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, stretching her red V-neck T-shirt tight. His gaze dipped instinctively and then stuck around to read the print on the pocket over the soft curve of her left breast: Highland. The Heart of Scotland in the Blue Ridge.

She cleared her throat. His gaze shot to hers, and he blinked to try to refocus his thoughts. “I was admiring . . . I mean, reading your shirt.”

“It’s not a novel.”

His face heated. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed this hot and fierce.

What inspired you to become a writer?

I’ve always been (and still am) a huge reader. My youngest child started preschool and I wasn’t ready to go back to work in what I’m trained for (chemical engineering) so I sat down one morning and started writing a book. I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing until I was around halfway done and loving every minute! That book became a Golden Heart finalist, got me an agent, and is published as An Indecent Invitation, a Regency historical.

What is a typical writing day like?

During the school year, I work while the kids are in school. I love the flexibility of being there to pick my kids up and drive them to soccer or gymnastics or chaperoning field trips, etc.

Do you have any interesting writing quirks or habits?

My only habit is a bad one in that I drink *way* too much coffee while I’m writing! It’s become a ritual, I suppose.

What has been one of the most surprising things you’ve learned as a published author?

How slow the industry can move, but also how quickly changes have come because of indie publishing.

Can you tell us about what’s coming up next after this for you writing wise?

For my contemporary fans, I have my second women’s fiction releasing early February 2020, An Everyday Hero. The second book in the Highland, Georgia, series, A Highlander in a Pickup, releases late February 2020.

For my historical romance fans, look out for A Wicked Wedding in the Once Upon a Christmas Wedding anthology releasing in October 2019. And two more full length books in the Spies and Lovers series, A Sinful Surrender and A Daring Deception, coming sometimes in mid to late 2020!

How can readers connect with you online?

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLauraTrentham

Or join my reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1733284316920632/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LauraTrentham

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/lauratrentham/

Sign up for my newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/w7o6b1

Follow me on Bookbub for new release or sale announcements: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/laura-trentham

[call-me-myszko]

Let’s Start With This One

Yesterday I was wandering around the forest, still following the Path, when I heard a rustling in the bushes. 

I took my dagger and I approached it. I thought that it could have been something dangerous and probably deadly. No, I do not have a death wish, but usually scary things bring lot of coin.

So, as soon as I got near it, the noise ceased and the bush went still. I waited, holding my breath for something to jump out but nothing happened.

Just as I was putting away my knife, the rustling started again. I got near it swiftly and guess what? a FUCKING RABBIT JUMPED OUT, and ran away in the woods.

To say I was disappointed is an understatement, it could have been a good dinner at least.

Anyway, I walked back to camp, and I tried to ignore my empty stomach, as I ran out of rations almost a day ago. 

I stocked up the fire with a quick Igni and rolled out my bedroll. My loyal gelding Shard was grazing the grass not far from me, or at least what little he found on the dry soil.

The sun was descending on the horizon, but there was still enough light to notice them.

Nekkers.

A little pack, luckily, but still. They were sneaky and fast creatures, and they were approaching quickly.

I unsheathed my silver sword and got in a defensive stance, rising the weapon at my shoulder level.

The one in the front, covered in red clay marks, shouted something and three of them started running towards me, screaming.

I swinged the sword, effectively cutting one’s arm and making another bleed from a chest wound.

The mutilated one looked at me (I guess, you can never tell with them) and tried to use his claws to gut me. He found itself without a head, but not before plunging his nails in my side. That fucker. I managed to rip down the other two, before what may be called the chieftain threw the rest of them at me. They fell under my sword as I reached the last one. He cried out and tried to bite me, but he only managed to get beheaded.

cutting off his head, I tied it to my saddle bags, then I started cleaning up my sword, nekker blood can be nasty on silver.

I’ll bring the trophy to the next town, hoping to earn something for it. I put aside my cleaned sword and pick up my potions’ bag, rifling through them to find the one I needed.

 Ah, there it is, my trusty Swallow. I chugged it down and put some on the wound, for good measure.

“Fuck, I’ll need a tailor for this” I said, looking at the rip in my leather armour and the tunic underneath.

“but it can wait until tomorrow morning, don't you think Shard?” he snorted in response and resumed his grazing. “thank you, you’re always a joy to speak to.” 

I got in my bedroll, turning my back to the fire and closed my eyes, falling in a light sleep.

The morning after, the first thing I noticed waking up, was the stench. The rotting smell of the nekker head I left near the bags.

Not a big deal, I’ll get rid of it as soon as I get in town, but in the meantime it’s pretty gross.

I packed up the camp and put everything on Shard. 

“Sorry for the smell, I’ll get you some apples when we arrive in town.” I patted his neck. He whinnied and started a gentle trot towards the end of the woods.

After 2 hours, give or take, we arrived to the village, it was a farmer one, so I didn’t expect a big reward for the nekkers.

After putting Shard in the tavern’s stable, I began walking towards the alderman house. I knocked on the wooden door, a loud noise of broken grass and falling metal, probably a tin mug, welcomed me. The door opened and a short man in his 50s, with a short salt and pepper beard greeted me.

“what can I do for you…” and after noticing my medallion “...witcher?”

I raised the monster head “How much for this?”

He turned pale and then slightly green, before covering his nose with a dirty handkerchief.

“By the Gods, keep it down! It stinks like pest.” 

I lowered it and stared at him, right into his watery eyes, rising an eyebrow.

“Fine, fine! I’ll give you 100 orens.”

“150”

“Pest, no way!”

I slightly swayed the head, as if I wanted to throw it at him.

“alright! I’ll give you 150 orens, but get that thing away from my house.”

I nodded, putting the head on the ground.

He went in, leaving the door open, I could see him going around, taking out little pouches of coin from everywhere. “He may have a lot of debts.” I thought.

He got back, five little bags in his hands.

“Here, now go away and do not get near me again.” Then he whispered, not meaning to let me hear “I hope the pest takes you away, mutant!”

I rolled my eyes but after making a mocking bow, I made my way to where I left my horse.

I threw the nekker head in a dunghill on the road, not that it would have made a difference, the stench was almost the same.

I heard a lot of noise as I got close to the stable.

“Oh, come on! Just one song, I swear on my beloved mother’s grave, may she rest in peace. I need co… don’t you dare touch it! No! You will break… the strings, sweet Melitele! My poor harp!” as I took the turn I saw someone I (unfortunately) knew very well. 

My friend Jarek.

I sighed, He can’t stay out of trouble for the love of the Gods for barely one day. We splitted the day before, him saying that he had “important things to do and beautiful people to see.”

As I got closer, people began to move away from me, afraid or maybe just because I smelled like I took a dip in the muck.

I’ll say the latter.

“Jarek, my friend, what are you doing here?” I asked the half-elf bard.

“May the Gods strike me if that is not my Myszko!” he grinned.

“I told you not to call me that.” I glared at him, making him flush and lower his eyes, to my great satisfaction.

“Sorry Rysia, I-”

“What happened? And- No, don’t you dare tell me that you have nothing to do with this.” I interrupted him just as he was opening his mouth to protest.

The crowd was looking at us, curious to see what that situation will bring. I glare was enough to scare away the most of them “What are you looking at?” I asked the others. They grumbled something along the lines of “Fuckin’ witcher” and “mutant”, but apart from a few that got the audacity to spit, everyone left swiftly.

“So? I’m waiting for an explanation.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I was in the tavern, you know, as always, playing my harp and singing my best ones. Oh, by the way, you have to hear the last one I wrote, It’s about a maiden I found in -”

“Jarek” I almost growled.

“Right, as I said, I was in the tavern, and suddenly the owner comes out of the kitchen saying that I can’t stay there, that I should take my “shoddy songs” somewhere else. Can you believe it? Calling my masterpieces, shoddy! How dare he!”  The bard was fuming.

“Let me guess, you refused to and he kicked you out.”

“It was my right to stay there!”

I shook my head “You’ll get killed one of this days. Come on, I have some coin, I’ll buy you something to eat at the market.”

“No need, I have my own - eh, maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.” He said after looking into his, sadly, almost empty satchel.

I smiled and throw an arm over his shoulder, steering him towards the lively fair.

“It has grown.” I said touching his black hair, that now caressed his chin. “You look good.”

“Thank you, I quite like it myself.” 

“First, I’ll need to stop at the armourer stall, I’ll need this repaired.” I showed him the ripped leather.

“Then we will eat?”

I chuckled “Yes, then we will eat.”

We stopped at a young woman stand, various tunics were spread on the table, some tinted in vibrant colors, others in less flashy hues. I decided to buy two of them, one white and the other black. I paid the woman for them and handed in the armor to get it repaired.

“Come back tomorrow morning, it will be ready then.”

I nodded and, took the bard by the arm, I dragged him to a food stall.

There were many of them, but this one sold obwarzanek, some sort of big bagels,sprinkled with sesame seeds.

“I missed this thing” whispered the bard, “do you remember when we ate them after the griffin hunt? they were still hot from the oven.”

“I remember.” I huffed a laugh “You burned your tongue because you couldn’t wait for it to cool down.”

He laughed, a real belly one. “Well, you know me, I’m not one who likes to wait.” he winked. “By the way, you look strange without your armour.”

“you have already seen me without.”

“Yes, but not outside, just in your room.”

“mmh, right.”

I approached a little old woman selling various fruits, dried and fresh alike.

“How much for your apples, good woman?”

“I’ll give you six for 3 orens, my dear.” she smiled at me.

“then I’ll take six of them and some dried apples as well, please”

“here, have a good day, dear. And be careful, we need the likes of you around.” she squeezed my hand.

I was a bit taken aback from her words and gesture, but in a good way.

“Why apples? do you want to make a pie?” he joked

“No, I have a horse.”

“what? since when?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“since - forever?” I looked at him “Come, I’ll make you meet him.”

We got to the tavern shed, the stable boy glanced at me weary, than shrugged and resumed his cleaning task.

As I got nearer to Shard, I felt him getting restless. “Hey, good boy. I brought you apples, as promised.” I stroked his forefront. “Jarek, That’s Shard. Shard that’s my friend Jarek. Please don’t bite him like you do with every new person,mh?”

“Gods, he’s gorgeous.” He raised a hand to touch him, but I stopped him before he would find himself without a few fingers. I guided his hand to Shard’s neck, making him caress him there. “Be careful, I was not joking about the biting.”

While he petted his neck, I gave him some apples. After that I brushed him down, taking away the dust of two days on the road. 

“Let’s go Jarek, do you have a room?”

“Not enough coin to take one, that was the reason why I wanted to sing.”

“Let’s go then. See you tomorrow Shard.”

As we entered the tavern, the patrons stopped talking, but I’m used to it by now. I approached the owner and asked for a room with two beds.

I seemed disgusted to speak to me but in the end he gave me the key. I had the suspect that I paid it more than the average but that’s everyday life for me after all. I asked for a bath to be brought up to the room while we drank something.

After two ales we went up, I was looking forward to a good wash, after two weeks worth of river baths and nothing else.

As I sank in the hot water I felt my muscles melt in the heat, I let out a contented sigh.

After the soothing soak, I put on my smallclothes and put myself under the scratchy covers.

“Goodnight bard.”

“Goodnight Myszko, sleep well.”

“Mmh, fuck you.”

And with the soft sound of his stifled laugh, I fell into a deep sleep.