#fics by peanut
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I Hate You (Or Do I?)
1.1k words
Teen and up audiences, no archive warnings apply
Dream/xQc with past Dream/Bella Poarch and Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Kac.eytron/Dream unrequited love
42 notes
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equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)
a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!
if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!
anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE
“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”
“That’s the problem!”
He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.
“You don’t understand me anymore!”
“Understand you?”
Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.
“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”
Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.
“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”
There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.
“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”
Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.
“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”
You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.
You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.
Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.
You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.
“Commando’s. How can I help you?”
The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.
“Hello?”
It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.
“Bucky?”
“Peanut?”
“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."
"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"
You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.
"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"
Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.
"I'm okay?"
Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"
You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.
On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.
On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.
“Peanut? Come on back to me."
“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.
“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”
“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”
No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.
“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”
You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.
“There she is.”
The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.
“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”
"Don't diners always serve coffee?"
"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."
"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.
Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.
And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.
You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.
"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"
An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.
"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.
A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.
He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.
Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.
"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"
A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.
"Yeah, thought as much."
"It's just all becoming too much, I think."
An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.
“Who's your friend, Jamie?"
Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.
"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."
Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.
"She's also my mother."
“Oh!"
He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.
“Your mother?”
Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.
“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”
There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.
"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.
"Sorry, just took me by surprise."
"Clearly."
Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.
"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"
Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.
"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"
You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.
"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."
Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.
"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."
You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.
"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"
"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"
"I want you to be you."
"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."
"I can't do that."
Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.
"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"
"No."
"Why?"
"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."
"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"
"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."
Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.
To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.
"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."
A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.
Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.
However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.
"I just want you to be happy."
"Do you think you could make me happy?"
"Absolutely."
You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.
"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."
"Will you be home for family dinner?"
"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"
Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.
"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"
"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."
"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"
You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.
"You just gestured to all of me."
You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.
"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"
Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.
"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."
"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."
Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"
He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.
"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"
You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.
"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."
You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.
You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.
"You ready?"
This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.
"Hold on tight, spider monkey."
You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.
City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.
His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.
Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.
"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.
The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere fun!"
He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.
Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.
He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.
"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."
You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.
"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."
He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.
As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."
You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.
You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.
On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.
"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.
Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.
A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.
"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"
"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.
"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."
You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.
"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.
As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.
You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.
His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.
It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.
"Why bartending?"
The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.
"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.
You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.
"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.
Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.
"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"
It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.
"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.
Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.
“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.
“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”
You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.
“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”
Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.
Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.
You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.
“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”
The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.
“Come on, let’s go.”
Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.
“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”
“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.
“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.
A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”
Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.
“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”
Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.
“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”
Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.
“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“
Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.
“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”
It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.
“And who the fuck is this?”
“I’m the guy.”
He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.
“What guy?”
“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”
The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.
“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”
He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.
“Apologize, Johnny boy.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.
“Thank you.”
Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.
“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”
He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.
“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”
“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.
“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”
You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.
“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.
“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”
You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.
If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.
The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.
“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”
He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.
“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”
You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.
“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”
He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.
You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.
“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.
Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?
“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”
His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.
“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”
A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.
You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.
Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.
Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.
You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.
You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?
You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.
It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.
With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.
Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.
#bartender!bucky x reader#bucky x reader#sebastian stan#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bartender!bucky x peanut!reader#bucky x peanut#consequences#ray's writing#bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes au#bartender!bucky#bartender!bucky barnes x you#bartender!bucky barnes x y/n#bartender!bucky x you
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Could you do moments of Catnap acting like a cat now? Please?
Can do since they're super quick and easy!!
I have a feeling this is gonna be your guys' new favorite thing
Like Dogday, Catnap can make animal noises!
And more than just purring
Hes one of those cats with a cutie patootie face and a demonic meow
The feline was just laying around all day, dealing with glares from Dogday and Cubby trying to attack him. They just didn't understand why you let him inside, but he wasn't hurting anything; actually he wasn't very active when you weren't around.
But as soon as he heard that door click open, his ears shot up and he quickly stretched. Not wanting to seem like an overly clingy cat, he didn't act how he wanted to and just sat up. A Cheshire cat smile still makes its way to his face when you walk inside and rub between his ears though, watching as you walk into the living room and set your stuff down. He got up in all his tallness and made his way over to you; but the mini's and Dogday beat him to it. The purple cats ears fell and a low growl released from his throat, but he would be alright.
However when you continuously gave the four every ounce of your attention, not saving even a drop for him; he got annoyed and let out a loud obnoxious mrow. It would've sounded a lot better if his voice box wasn't absolute garbage from being damaged, but it obviously caught your attention and you immediately started to give him attention. "Awh, sorry kitty." You said softly, he purred loudly in your touch and looked at the others with a smug expression.
He knocks things over
Sometimes on accident, sometimes on purpose
More than likely on purpose
The room was still and quiet in every corner, with the noise box playing and your eyes focused on the imagery it would show. Completely off into your own world before being startled when you heard glass shattering, looking over to the kitchen and narrowing your eyes. "What was that!?" You called out.
Guilty as can be, Catnap quickly tried to speak up despite how croaky his throat can be. "Nothing!" He cooed, trying to hide the fact that he was on the counter when he wasn't supposed to be. He stared at the broken glass below him, tail swaying as Peanuts came over with his eye filled with curiosity as he sniffed it. You however came to the rescue and gently shooed him away, spraying Catnap before sweeping up the glass. Catnap left with a hiss and escaped into the living room, ears flat as he was pouty for getting in trouble.
However... His eyes quickly caught sight of the TV that constantly took up your attention, and a mischievous look came across his face as he wiggled his tail and knocked it over. A loud crash echoed through the house with a certain kitty being proud of himself. "CATNAP!"
He has a really rough tongue
And since he absolutely adores you, likes to lick your face
Poor you
Getting ready for bed used to be easy, until you had various critters in your home at all times. You just wanted one night to yourself and thought that you had them all kicked out, but Catnap revealed himself from the shadows and quickly loafed on top of you before you could shoo him away. "Catnap." You said with a frown, but he purred away.
The loud rumbling of the purr being all you could hear as you stared off into space unamused, before feeling a very rough tongue try to lick your nose and in turn licking your entire face. It felt like someone took slightly damp sand paper to your face making you hiss and try to push Catnap's big head away, but he refused to stop and continued to nuzzle into you and lick your face.
Eventually he had enough and rolled off of you, walking over to the door all prissy like and exiting. He left you with a forcefully red and sore face and you covered in his scent; which none of the other critters would be happy about. With the door left open, you could hear Biscuits hissing at Catnap before sadly glaring at you like you betrayed him. Cats.
Thanks for requesting!
#poppy playtime#smiling critters#poppy playtime x reader#catnap poppy playtime#poppy playtime catnap#catnap#catnap x you#catnap x y/n#catnap x reader#catnap smiling critters#smiling critters catnap#poppys playtime#poppy playtime fics#poppy playtime fanfics#featuring: cubby#featuring: peanuts#featuring: biscuits
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An illustration for The New Recruit by @butter--peanut <3
“A personal demonstration of its staying power,” he said, and Kakashi swallowed at the implication. (Best Team, chapter 2)
#mydrawings#thank you butter--peanut for this fic i loved it!#Tobi Sukea interactions were so wonderful i fell in love with them again xD#this specific scene was very cool! it's my second favorite after the reunion in the last act#tobi x sukea#uchiha obito#hatake kakashi#obkk#kkob#naruto fanart#digital art
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whinny's birthday
peanutsmama:
liked by canucks, jackhughes, el_blue06 & others
peanutsmama: happy birthday to the biggest meme in the world, aka my little baby brother! i'm so proud of you and everything that you've managed to do in (checks notes) 24 years of life!! making me feel old and all ugh 🙄 nice to see joining the canucks hasn't changed the default face you make when taking pics
p.s. peanut wishes uncle whinny a happy birthday and wants him to get up off his lazy bum and answer the facetime
jackhughes: my bday is on may 14th, just a reminder
-> peanutsmama: this isn't about you
_quinnhughes: love you too peach 🙄
-> _quinnhughes: tell peanut i'm calling
-> peanutsmama: she's running around the house, planning on how to sing happy bday to you, give her a minute
userone: she's so eldest sibling coded i love her
-> usertwo: we all love her
canucks: yeah uncle whinny, answer the facetime
-> _quinnhughes: she's the one who's not picking up!
trevorzegras: happy bday uncle whinny
-> _quinnhughes: don't ever say that again
-> trevorzegras: MOM! HE'S BULLYING ME!
-> peanutsmama: idc if it's ur bday, stop bullying my son
-> jackhughes: when did this happen??
-> lhughes_06: during the eras tour, definitely
userthree: happy bday quinn!!
jamie.drysdale: okay but did the facetime happen??
-> jamie.drysdale: guys i need answers
-> peanutsmama: sorry for taking so long, peanut was on facetime with quinn
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tags : @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @svechnikovvv , @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @celebrinis, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya , @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 , @emsully2002 , @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 , @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj , @idontlikelizards , @trevzeags11 , @cole-mcward48 , @al-lie-cat , @iikximii , @wbkz3gras , @bitchy55 , @huggybearhughesy , @starjoyyy , @xcicix , @fandom-oneshots-etc , @sbrn0905
join my main taglist!
tags: @deviltsunoda , @hughesmedicine , @maddie-naps , @h0e4fictionalme-n , @redpool , @whenmypartysover , @trevzeags11 , @fulla02 , @alwayshughes , @julieluvsme , @puckmaidens , @sosweetsofinesonice , @softboystarkey, @nicoleloveshockey , @1yeonna , @luvestapa , @itsnotgray , @huggy-hischier94 , @francesfarhadi , @barzyandhughesbaby , @mily04moo
join peanut's world! au taglist!
#peanut's world! au#naqia's au's!#naqia writes!#jack hughes#jack hughes fic#jack hughes fluff#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagines#quinn hughes ig edit#quinn hughes insta edit#luke hughes#luke hughes fic#luke hughes insta edit#jack hughes insta edit#insta edit#instagram edit#hockey imagine#hockey fic#hockey#nhl hockey#nhl one shot#nhl edit#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl#nhl insta edit
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invasive
bo sinclair x afab!reader
rating: explicit
wordcount: 941
Reader POV. Your dreams take you to different places, but you’re never too far out of reach.
EXTREMELY dubious consent as always. Mostly weird prose, but there’s some smut thrown in here as well. Somnophilia, cockwarming.
A/N: It’s been raining for nearly a week straight where I am. Every single day has been grey. This idea burrowed into my brain and now I’m inflicting it upon you. Similar vibes to poacher’s dream. I just...really wanted to write something that reminded me of the feeling I was trying to capture with that fic. Somnophilia’s been on my mind ever since I read this absolutely electric fic by our lord and savior, @visceravalentines. Definitely go read it if you haven’t already. It features a lovely man who is not at all like the one in this fic. We should all make out with him instead, probably. We won’t.
You’re lost in a quagmire of green, knee-deep in muck.
You’re running from something, but you aren’t sure what. You feel like it must be close. You can hear crashing, the sloshing of something at your heels. The water is dark here, it’s deep. You need to watch where you’re going, but you won’t. It feels familiar.
Maybe, if you push a little further, you’ll reach the edge of the marshland.
The trees crowd around each other, their bulbous trunks bursting out of thick green algae. It’s so dense here, impossibly heavy with warmth. It soaks through your clothes, bleeds under your skin. If someone sliced you open and cracked your bones apart, you’re sure you'd flare hot. Chalky white and exposed, scattering chunks of marrow over the swamp.
Things end up here when they have nowhere left to go. They get caught in the hanging moss and become part of the scenery.
You’ll make a mess of this place, but it won’t matter. There are animals here, bigger than you, and they’ve been waiting. You couldn’t ever run very fast. These kinds of games are about losing.
It wasn’t behind you, anyway. It caught your ankle underwater and pulled you down, tumbled you underneath its weight. You’re spinning wildly, rolling and churning, filling your lungs with water (but it’s so hot here, and you like that stuff).
It’ll play with its food until your neck snaps. Trailing blood in the water, dragging you back to a den squashed in the mangroves. A place of dead things, hobbled together out of reeds and a dozen people’s bones. You wonder if they sparked like yours, if they’re kindling too.
Your body is perched on top of a waterlogged tire and hid away until it starts to rot. It makes it easier to eat when it’s soft like that, when the botflies come. Practical things are sometimes the cruelest.
God, you’ve never been anywhere this hot.
You wake up with your face pressed into the pillow, huffing out shallow breaths. The room is bathed in pale light, milky grey with the faintest wash of blue.
The grey disorients you. There was so much light before. You blink a bit in the gloom. Water is still rushing away above you, beside you. It’s impossible to tell what time it is or how long you’ve been asleep. It feels like forever. You lived and you died long before you were spat out here.
Out of the heat of your dream, you’re surprised to feel your skin prickle with goosebumps. You must have thrown the sheets off in your sleep. The position you’re in feels unnatural, one leg hoisted away from you. It rests on something solid, something warmer than this room.
You feel so full (of water, of bugs in your belly eating away the soft tissue, of life).
Stop, look at the window. You’re not underwater. It’s raining, dripping tears down the glass. You’re awake again and the fullness is the pressure between your legs.
Bo’s hand cups at your breast, jiggling the flesh to test its weight in his palm. He catches your nipple between his fingers, tugs at it. When he rolls his hips, you let out a soft little noise, mouthing at the pillowcase. His cock pulses inside you, thick and warm.
He’s already so deep.
“Couldn’t help myself.” He murmurs into your ear. “Not with you movin’ round like that.”
His hand wraps around your thigh, easing you down. You let out a whine as you feel your walls stretch around him. He hisses out a breath, digging his fingers into your skin.
“You’re so wet, baby.” His voice is husky, the rasp of sleep still thick around his words. You can feel how slick you are, how easy it is for him to push in. “What were you dreamin’ ‘bout?”
“You.” You’re not lying, not exactly. He doesn’t need to know the specifics.
It’s the right answer, or, at least, the one he was expecting. You’re never really sure with him. It doesn’t matter, really. Your dream is getting away from you now, chased away by his hands and his lips and his cock. You were somewhere. He was there. You remember heat, you remember weight.
(Or maybe that’s all there is now and you’re getting things confused.)
“Thought you were tryin’ to kill me, baby.” He nips along your neck. You clench down around him, moaning into the pillow. “Asleep, squeezin’ me like that.”
Good, you almost say. If I wrap myself around you enough times, you can’t breathe. Neither can I, but I only need to do it once.
People get rid of snakes, throw them off into the swamp. They’re not supposed to be there. But this looks enough like their idea of home, doesn’t it? They’ll adapt or they’ll get eaten, and that’s all you could ask for.
His breath is warm on your skin. You reach back, your fingers curling into his hair.
“You ready to stop teasin’ me?”
(I couldn’t stomach you if I did. I’m not supposed to be here, anyway.)
You almost ask him if he had the same dream. Was it hard, waiting for the rot to set in? Waiting for softness? Did you taste better like that? Would he do it again if you asked him to? Could you return the favor?
Your hand tightens in his hair, giving it a sharp tug. His teeth are on your neck and it hurts in the way it’s supposed to hurt—scorching away inside you.
You’ve never been anywhere that hot, but maybe he has. Maybe he’ll take you there.
“Yes.”
#something something burmese pythons swallowing alligators whole in the everglades something something invasive species something something#house of wax#bo sinclair#bo sinclair x reader#slashers x reader#slasher fandom#x reader#my fics#I've been under a lot of work stress lately lmao and I've been having a lot of weird dreams#bingo bongo himself featured in two of them. for the first time ever surprisingly.#u would think w/the amount of space I give him in my mind palace I'd have dreamed of him already but nope#my brain summoning this hick like. BITCH!! shut tf up about work for two seconds and look @ this jdshjhfdjjhfdj#peanut brain PEANUT BRAIN this week#so it felt fitting to write somethin weird n dreamy (nightmarish) w/him. idk#it's the vibe on this accursed day#this is...............somethin. idk what. but it's somethin.
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dying on the hill we met on | 1.9k words
jegulus oneshot | mostly canon compliant (but regulus is alive) | tbh there's no jegulus til the end but it's worth the wait i swear | james being in his subconscious the whole time | nobody dies i promise it's a play on words
June 26, 1979
James had always liked summer. It was his favorite season for many reasons. The sun was always shining, the breeze just cool enough to balance out the warm temperatures. It's a shame he wasn't born in the summer.
It only makes sense he would want his wedding in summer. A beautiful venue filled with green grass and happy faces, his best friends beside him with massive smiles on their faces.
Sirius looks at James proudly, Remus next to him looking almost as elated as Sirius. Peter leans forward to look at James, his face happy but his eyes dim. At the end of the line, Frank is smiling at him fondly, with an older brother aura.
James looks around at all the people, finding his mother's face in the front row next to his father's, both looking at him as if they're remembering when they had gotten married.
James is happy. Who wouldn't be in this situation? He's marrying one of his best friends with the others by his side. His lovely parents are front row, about to watch a moment in time that will always be remembered as a joyous day.
So why does he feel conflicted? As if there's unfinished business haunting his every decision, waiting for him to make the wrong choice, standing in the shadows to watch him fail. Watching him always.
He makes sure there's still a smile on his face when the music changes. What could he have done differently? What if James had gone with him? Made sure everything was okay? Made sure he came back?
These thoughts torment the part of James' mind that ensures he always appears happy. He keeps his smile, unwavering with the growing tide of second thoughts.
Second thoughts that couldn't be acted upon, even if he wanted to. His mind takes him back to the moment Sirius told him they found a body in the lake. The moment they identified it. It didn't quite look like him, though. They told him that the body was waterlogged, so he wouldn't have looked the same anyway. It wasn't there though. The one specific freckle James had obsessed over whenever he looked at his face. It wasn't there.
The music had slowed, and the curtain of flowers at the end of the aisle had been pulled aside, letting the girl who had once been the one James had wanted most be seen.
She's walking slowly, clutching onto Mary's dad as her escort. Her eyes flick to Marlene, Alice, Emmeline, and Mary, her maid of honor. Then to James. His smile is still on his face, only faltering when he glances over to Marlene. A mistake.
She raises her eyebrow, wondering what could possibly be on his mind other than Lily. She looks at Sirius with a questioning look and he shrugs back before nudging Remus and whispering to him.
"What's up with James?", he asks Remus, who's slightly crouched over, "Marlene's asking."
"Dunno, maybe he has to piss", Remus replies before standing up straighter.
"Are you serious right now?", Sirius retorts quietly.
"No, but I have reason to believe you are though", Remus jokes.
"Not the time, but good one."
"Thanks, I know."
James, who is more and more uncertain with each step Lily takes toward him, risks a glance at Sirius, who was already concerned by Marlene's worries, and is met with an apprehensive look from him.
Sirius raises his eyebrow and tilts his head, a bit like a dog. James' smile is nearly gone.
"It wasn't there", James mutters, almost too quietly for Sirius to hear.
"What wasn't there?", he asks back gently.
"The freckle. It wasn't him, Sirius."
"What do you mean?", Sirius asks tensely.
"He's alive", James says to him, slightly louder than before, "I can't do this anymore. I have to go." He looks at Lily, who's looking at his parents, giddy and grinning. James brings a hand up to his face, feeling warmer and more anxious than ever, and finds his hand to be wet with tears. He's crying. They haven't left his eyes yet, but they're there.
Lily's looking at him again and he's thinking about her and Sirius and him and he realizes something.
He could never do this to Lily. He can't just leave to go find someone who might be alive. She's too good to do this to her. He loves her, just not in the way people would think given the situation.
She makes it up to the altar and Mary's dad goes to sit down. A single tear has left James' eye. Lily watches it travel down his face as the officiant speaks.
James goes back into his thoughts, drowning in the lingering feeling that he's still alive somewhere. Wading in the ever present guilt that encases him, telling him he should have gone with him or convinced him to not go. Drifting in the regret that he hadn't chosen to follow him and that he barely tried to get him to stay, knowing he could never change his mind once he had it made.
The officiant is talking through, going through his long speech about loving someone and he signals for James and Lily to hold each others hands. They do, and he finally says the words James has been waiting for.
"Now, if anybody has anything they'd like to say before I wed this couple, speak now or forever hold your peace."
James holds his breath, willing him to come through the flower curtain, barge in, object, run up here, crash the wedding, anything. Sirius glances at James cautiously, knowing he would never humiliate Lily like that, but also knowing he could never live with himself if he married Lily and lost his chance with his brother.
Not a single person moves. It's as if the world had paused to give them time. To give James time to make his decision, to give Sirius the opportunity to stop James if he moves, to give him time to say 'I object'.
He doesn't though. It's a little funny. He wouldn't have known they were getting married unless someone had told him, but who would have? Sirius surely didn't know, his reaction seemed genuine. Not many people were invited, it's mostly friends and family.
In hindsight, James should have known that he wouldn't have come back anyway. James always knew that he would be the first to leave. You can't get left behind if you leave first. Maybe that's what he was doing when he left for the lake that night. Leaving James first. Letting him down gently by faking his death instead of outright leaving.
James doesn't know what hurts more. Him being found dead or James realizing he's alive and avoiding him. Maybe he's not avoiding James, but staying away for his safety. He was like that. Keeping away so someone he cared for didn't get hurt or caught in the crossfire of his own misdoings.
James doesn't hear Lily start her vows. He doesn't hear the officiant asking James to start his. He doesn't feel Sirius tapping his shoulder to get his attention. He doesn't see the look on Lily's face when he's standing, blankly staring into the distance.
What he does see, though, is a boy. Up on a hill, leaning against a fence, a dark haired boy with his arms crossed is seen, despite all of his efforts to stay hidden.
James can't tell for sure if it's him, but he's not about to let him leave again if it is him.
"I'm sorry."
James moves to leave, but Sirius grabs his arm. He looks up at James with dejection in his eyes.
"Let him go."
James looks back at him, his eyebrows together and his mouth a line.
"I can't."
He looks over at Lily and she nods, "Go get him, James." She steps back and Mary puts a hand on her shoulder.
He smiles at her, "Thank you." James looks back up at the hill. His arms are no longer crossed and he's standing up straight. As if he's meaning to leave soon.
He can't leave. There are so many things James never got to tell him, never got to show him.
James makes his way down the aisle, the symbolism getting to him. Going down the aisle to the entrance is usually meant for couples who just got married, not for one of them to leave for someone else. He never thought of a deeper meaning to things before him. James had really only seen the surface meaning of things before him.
It's not a big hill he has to walk up, but James is feeling winded. Maybe the understanding that he's about to see one person who really saw James, the one that didn't show surface level. Anxiousness is pooling in his stomach, feeling like dread and ecstasy and impatience all in one.
James makes it to the fencepost he saw him leaning against, finding it vacant. He looks around and sees his back turned and walking away.
His expression falters. He's leaving again. James jogs up to him and just walks with him. He matches his pace, swinging his arms in time.
James only looks at him when he's sure he wouldn't notice. He did notice, but he'll never tell James.
"Do you love her?", he asks James.
His voice surprises James. He sounds almost the same, save for a hardness that must have appeared with time and damage.
It takes him a few seconds to respond, his mouth gone dry. "Not the way I did you. She's like a sister, if anything."
They stop by a bench and he sits down, motioning for James to do the same. He sits with one leg folded up under the other, his knee resting on James' thigh.
"Why'd you do it?", James asks, turning his head to look at him while he looks off into the distance.
He takes a deep breath in, then out. "I had to. He threatened to kill Sirius. And you, but he added that bit in later."
They sit there in silence for a few minutes before he leans his head against James' shoulder. James, surprised but not complaining, puts his arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer.
"Regulus?"
"James?"
"Are you gonna leave again?"
Regulus looks over to James, making eye contact, "Not even if you wanted me to, pretty boy."
"Hold on, I'm the pretty boy?", James looks over at Regulus with visible confusion.
"Yeah", Regulus shrugs and looks back to the hills.
"Are you— Have you ever looked in a mirror?", James asks him with raised eyebrows.
"James I've said this before", Regulus tells him with a flat expression.
"Have you?", he asks Regulus, seemingly distressed.
"Yes", Regulus nods.
James looks over to the hills, then back at Regulus with an amused look on his face, "Okay then, if I'm such a pretty boy, then kiss me like one."
Regulus looks at James, still unimpressed by his antics after two years apart, yet always willing to play along. He takes James' face in his hands and kisses him, James leaning into Regulus, moving his hands into his hair as they move with each other.
Regulus breaks the kiss, his hands still around James, one on his neck and one on his shoulder.
"Was that to your liking, pretty boy?", Regulus asks, a smirk on his face.
"Indeed. It was so good, I think I may have blacked out a bit, maybe you should do it again?", James shrugs.
Regulus rolls his eyes, "Fine."
#marauders#marauders fandom#the marauders era#marauders headcanons#james potter#regulus arcturus black#regulus black#lily evans#marlene mckinnon#mary macdonald#emmeline vance#regulus and sirius#sirius black#sirius and regulus#jegulus#jegulus fanfiction#jegulus fic#remus lupin#marauders era#peter pettigrew#frank longbottom#alice fortescue#alice longbottom#euphemia potter#fleamont potter#the marauders#effie potter#completely unrelated but what if regulus had a peanut allergy i think thatd be so funny#angst with a happy ending#light angst
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Every Curse Has A Silver Lining
Dreamnap + background DNN
3.5k words
Teen and Up Audiences
No archive warnings apply :)
Inspired by @bluefeye 's vampire dnap au!! :D
He and Sapnap have talked about it, of course, and they've both talked about it with George but all three of them haven't ever been able to come to a conclusion on what to do. Dream doesn't want to curse them with this, no matter how many times Sapnap and George tell him that they'd love to spend eternity with him.
Eternal life with no end unless you're killed or take it yourself is a brutal curse.
But it might be the only way to save Sapnap.
--- --- ---
Sapnap damn near dies in a car crash and turning him into a vampire is the only way to save his life.
(reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated even if you don't read the fic! :3)
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i would LOVE a part two to consequences where she tells her husband she actually has a date and he’s lowkey bothered and then on the date bucky is treating her like an absolute gentleman and is so enamoured by her like omg and then end the date with a cute little kiss
consequences part two coming tomorrow. 11 AM CST.
catch up with bucky & peanut here!!
part two posted now!!!
#bucky x reader#sebastian stan#bartender!bucky x reader#bartender!bucky barnes x you#bucky x peanut#bartender!bucky x peanut!reader#bucky barnes fic rec#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x y/n
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dreamnap's height difference is something that's so special to me like sapnap has the perfect guy to tuck his head under and wrap his arms around his waist and bury his face in his chest or have him lay on top of him like a person heated blanket and dream has the perfect panda bear in his grasp to hold for comfort and despite everything he can still make himself feel small in his arms when needed cause they're so secure and safe tracing small drawings or letters into his skin that calm him almost immediately like sksnwkw
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at this point ohb is just James Potter / everyone else in the fic
100%
he has chemistry with everyone and everyone is in love with him
but the only person who gives him a hard time about it is Regulus
which is gonna be
such a delight to witness i cannot wait :)
#i was going to say the only person not in love with him is regulus#but we know that's not true#but the only one who fights it maybe#is regulus#love that stubborn lil peanut#ohb#fic: of his bones#soph rambles
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can we get a lil blurb of jack and mama getting ice cream and chicken nuggets in the middle of the night?
lowkey want to know what they talk about, since they are so close, I feel like it might be a little heart to heart moment between the two of them.
3 am - peanut's world!au
"jack."
no answer.
"jackie!"
jack sniffed, turning over in bed.
"jackson rowdingus hughes!"
"i hate that name," jack groaned, shoving his face in his pillow.
mama made a face, rubbing her eight-month pregnancy belly as she tried to stop little peanut from moving. she was in new jersey with her brother jack this week, and it'd gone pretty smoothly.
she hadn't felt very sick, her feet weren't swollen, and jack was always stocked up on boiled peanuts.
her final night in jersey, and she thought she was good. but of course, her cravings had to kick in in the middle of the night.
"and i hate pregnancy cravings," mama made a face, poking her younger brother.
"ugh, what do you want?" he asked, sitting up in bed, his eyes squeezed shut.
"ice cream and chicken nuggets," mama muttered wistfully.
"who the hell eats ice cream and chicken nuggets at," jack looked at the time on his clock, "three twenty-two am?"
"peanut wants them," mama rubbed her belly, referring to the nickname jack and the boys had given her baby.
jack rubbed his eyes, throwing a sweatshirt over his head and another one over to mama. "c'mon. let's get you and peanut your weird food."
mama put jack's oversized hoodie on, grinning to herself as it now fit snugly on her. she often wore her brothers' hoodies, especially now that they weren't in michigan for most of the year, but they were quite large on her. she'd gotten the short genes.
mama stole jack's slides, humming happily to herself as she made her way to the passenger seat of jack's car. jack tried to be annoyed, but he couldn't really as mama was so happy to be getting her ice cream and chicken nuggets.
he didn't understand where mama's cravings came from, but as long as she was happy, he was happy.
twenty minutes later, the two of them were sitting at a park, enjoying the ice cream and chicken nuggets that mama had been craving. although, jack wasn't dipping his chicken nuggets in the ice cream like mama was. you couldn't pay him enough to try that.
"this is so good," mama muttered. "you want some?"
"i'm okay," jack told her.
"good, 'cause i wasn't gonna give you."
jack rolled his eyes, trying not to laugh, "that's real nice of you. considering you woke me up at three in the goddamn morning to get you your ice cream and chicken nuggets."
"i woke you up and three twenty-two," mama corrected automatically.
jack couldn't hold in his laughter, shaking his head to himself as mama grinned, dipping another chicken nugget in her ice cream.
jack sighed to himself, dropping his head on mama's shoulder as he ate another chicken nugget.
"what's going on?" mama asked, dropping her head on top of jack's.
"just thinking," jack shrugged.
"don't hurt yourself."
"rude," he flicked his older sister.
"you love me."
"unfortunately."
"what're you thinking about?" mama asked, her voice soft as she listened to her brother.
"just thinking... you know how you're pregnant?" jack continued before mama could get some sarcastic remark in, "like, i know i'm only nineteen, and way too young to have a baby, but like, is every pregnancy like this?"
"what do you mean?"
"like you know, the cravings, and the headaches, and being sick?" jack asked. "i know i wasn't there for a lot of the pregnancy, but what i've heard, what i've seen, it doesn't seem like lots of fun."
mama shrugged a little, "it depends on the person, bubba. some people have easy pregnancies, some people have really tough pregnancies. compared to most people, i've got a pretty easy pregnancy. at least, i like to think so. even though i got sick a lot at the start, and my feet hurt when i don't wear nice shoes, and i'm always craving peanuts for some reason... i've got you guys by me. some people don't have anyone. knowing you guys are here... it's a nice feeling. it makes it all a little easier."
jack hummed, pressing closer to his older sister. the two of them sat in a comfortable silence, watching the late night stars twinkle above them.
in that moment, jack didn't mind being woken up at three am.
-
tags : @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @svechnikovvv , @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya , @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 , @emsully2002 , @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 , @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj
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#peanut's world! au#naqia's au's!#naqia writes!#hughes!sister reader#hughes!reader#hughes!sister#jack hughes#jack hughes fic#jack hughes imagines#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes blurbs#new jersey devils#new jersey devils blurb#new jersey devils imagine#new jersey devils fic#new jersey devils one shot#jack hughes oneshots#jack hughes oneshot#jack hughes one shot#quinn hughes#luke hughes#platonic#hughes brothers
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Chestnuts
Day 4
Summary: Marcus & Peanut roast chestnuts with Grandma.
Pairings: Marcus Pike x You, Marcus Pike x Female Reader (Peanut)
Fandom: The Mentalist
Rating: Mature
Warnings: language, discussions of sex and blow jobs
Word Count: 1,027
Marcus & Peanut Masterlist
Day 3 Day 5 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist
“Is this too many?” You asked your grandmother, gesturing to the vast amount of chestnuts on the kitchen counter.
“Might not be enough,” Grandma replied. ‘This has always been a family favorite—for both families.” She looked at Marcus who nodded in agreement. A couple hours ago you and Marcus had ”come out” to your families about your new relationship. Needing a break from all the questions and advice, you both had volunteered to help Grandma make her famous roasted chestnuts. She added butter and honey to them which made it an irresistible holiday snack. The three of you sat together at the kitchen island and worked in quiet peace. It was a nice change from all the chatter you had to deal with today.
“I think the first two batches are ready to go in,” Grandma told Marcus. He dutifully stood up and carried two trays to the oven. You couldn’t help but stare at him in awe. He was so beautiful and finally all yours.
“You’re drooling, dear,” Grandma said with a chuckle. You rolled tour eyes at her playfully. Marcus placed a kiss on the top of your head just before retaking his seat next to you.
“How’d you know about us, Grandma?” You asked. “The other day when we were baking cookies…you already knew we were together. How?’”
“It was very clear,” Grandma answered. “The two of you have always been obvious in your ‘secret’ feelings for each other, but there was always a…tension there. Something missing. Like two magnets being forced apart even though all they wanted, their entire purpose in life was to be together. The other day, that tension wasn’t there anymore. So, I knew you had finally admitted your love for each other.”
“Wow,” you whispered.
“I didn’t realize how transparent we were,” Marcus said quietly.
“Apparently not to each other,” you laughed.
“True,” Marcus agreed. “I’m just glad we finally got on the same page.”
“Me too,” you whispered.
“Me too,” Grandma chimed in. “Now make me the happiest old lady in Seattle and give me some great-grand babies!”
“Gonna need some time before that, Grandma,” you chided playfully.
“Yeah, but we can definitely practice until we’re ready…a lot,” Marcus added.
“Marcus Pike!” You scolded. He just smiled and kissed you softly.
“Ugh! Gross!” John shouted as he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please refrain from mauling my baby sister when I’m in the house?” Marcus pulled away and laughed.
“John, you are such a fucking cock block!” You groaned at him.
“Just payback for that time I snuck Janie Stevens over the night Mom and Dad were out of town,” John said with an evil grin.
“That was years ago!” You scoffed. “You were in high school You can’t still be pissed about that!”
“Yes I can!” John argued. “She refused to go out with me again after that! I only ever got to second base with her, and the rumor was she gave the best head in school.”
“Well, I’m sorry that I stopped your oversexed teenage self from getting into yet another girl’s pants in high school,” you said sarcastically. “It’s not like she was the only girl willing to sleep with you. You were—and still are—a massive manwhore.”
“If I remember correctly,” Marcus chimed in, “you did sleep with Janie our first summer home from college. Even got her to give you one of her famously great blow jobs.”
“Ha!” You shouted. “Look at that. No need to be pissed at me since you did get—wait, Marcus.” You turned to your boyfriend. “How do you know her blow jobs are great? Have you slept with Janie?” Marcus’s eyes widened. John laughed at his friend’s discomfort.
“No, Peanut, I never slept with Janie,” Marcus said. You knew he was feeling the truth, but it was slightly off.
“What about a blow job?” You pressed.
“Huh?” Marcus dodged the question.
“Ok, let me rephrase that,” you said. “Has Janie Stevens’ nasty lips been anywhere near your cock?”
“Oh man,” John couldn’t stop laughing. “This is so much better than stopping you two from kissing.”
“Sweetheart,” Marcus began.
“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, Marcus Pike,” you said sternly. You were trying hard not to laugh at the panic in his eyes. You wouldn’t be able to keep up this angry facade long. “Did you let her blow you?”
“We were teenagers!” Marcus said defensively. “It meant nothing. She blew everyone!” You burst out laughing. John fell to the ground he was laughing so hard. Even Grandma was chuckling.
“What the hell?” Marcus asked in shock. “You were fucking with me?”
“Of course I was!” You laughed. “Marcus, you’ve been married and engaged. Obviously you’ve had sex with women other than me. I’m well aware you have a past. Just like me.” He scowled at that.
“I don’t wanna think about that, Peanut,” he said darkly. You just smiled.
“The past doesn’t matter, my sweet Marcus,” you said softly, cupping his face. “All that matters is our present and future, my love.” He smiled and kissed your palm.
“For the record,” Marcus told you, “you give way better head than Janie Stevens.” You ignored the gagging sounds John was making and blushed as you remembered the quick blow job you had given him last night when you both managed to sneak away after midnight mass. That wasn’t even close to your best work. You looked forward to showing him just how talented you were once you got back to DC. Just then the timer dinged.
“First batch is done!” Grandma announced.
“Yes!” John cheered. “That’s why I came in here. To beat everyone else to the chestnuts. Didn’t expect to get an x-rated comedy show out of it.”
“X-rated?” Marcus laughed. “That wasn’t even close to how x-rated we can get.”
“I do NOT want to hear that,” John said immediately.
“Then don’t piss me off, or I’ll tell you exactly what I do to your baby sister!” Marcus countered.
“Oh my god,” you groaned.
“Boys never really do grow up, do they dear?” Grandma said fondly.
“I guess not,” you agreed.
Day 5
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#pedro pascal#Marcus pike#the mentalist#Marcus and peanut#christmas writing challenge#fluff#brother’s best friend#friends to lovers#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction
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BESTIES ONE OF MY FAV CHAPTERS IS UP
#i have started this fic just so i could write this arc!!!! im so fond f it!!!!!#odyposts#peanut romano#greasers#bully scholarship edition#canis canem edit#bully cce#bully canis canem edit#bully game
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