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celestialinent · 3 years

Text

someday it will fit just right

on ao3

In 2 years, Steve would spend his first night truly hungry. In 5 years, he would stand in a cold little cemetery and bury his mother. In 8 years, he would deliver food to the silent Barnes family as they sat shiva. In 11 years, he would go into a tiny metal box and come out a freak. In 14 years, he would die.

But on April 17th, 1931, Steve Rogers woke up to Sarah Rogers singing in her clear voice, thrilled to celebrate her only son’s 13th birthday.

He and Fiona stumbled out from behind the thick curtain that cut the little nook at the far side of the flat where he slept. There were boxty and eggs on the table, and Ma wasn’t even tired, because she had three days off all in a row. He was still young enough not to question the luck. He wasn’t aware that Sarah had begged and traded with the other nurses to get the days, promising to work shifts no one wanted, knowing it would hurt their purse at the end of the month and doing it anyway to make her boy happy.

“Stiofán,” she greeted him, and Steve smiled. She only called him by his Irish name when she was in the best moods, and as he got older and the trouble he got up to got more bloody, that name was used less and less.

Fiona always slept as a cougar, because her furry bulk was the best thing to keep him warm in their drafty flat, but she usually changed before they even got out of bed. Big cats might be good for keeping little boys with dicky lungs, but they weren’t so good for navigating the tight space of the Rogers’s home. She didn’t change this morning, however.

Steve sent her a frown, even as he sidestepped her to get to the table.

Aodhan, perched on a rickety wooden chair to Sarah’s left, watched the pair with his intelligent brown eyes.

“How’s my wee man?” Sarah asked when Steve had sat. Fiona came to rest next to him, her big head almost as high as his. “Any big plans for today?”

Steve blushed. “Bucky and I were gonna go to the park,” he answered. But they’d planned that ages ago, before Ma had gotten the days off. And they were really only going because Bucky had heard from Teddy Russo that Theresa and Dot Bianchi would be there with their older sister Valentina. Bucky was absolutely dizzy for just about every girl in the Bianchi family.

To be honest, Bucky was dizzy for all the girls. He was 14 this year, and apparently, his Uncle Isaac had told Bucky that that was the age that “everything started to make sense” with girls. Whatever in the Sam-Hell that meant.

“We don’t have to, though,” Steve said. And he meant it. Spending a few hours watching Bucky watching dames didn’t sound like any fun, and it was his birthday, so if he told Bucky he wanted to do something else he wouldn’t be sore at him. “Bucky could just bring the girls over and we could play games or something.”

Even if Steve didn’t think spending his 13th birthday with Bucky’s little sisters was the best way to celebrate he wouldn’t want to exclude them. Bucky hated dragging Becca and Judy and Rachel along when they went places, but Steve thought the girls were just swell. He’d never had a sister or a brother, and never would most likely, so the novelty was nice.

Steve’s Ma just smiled. “No, no. You and Bucky should go. Bein’ thirteen is important, a leanbh . Before we know it you’ll be old and won’t get to spend all your time with Bucky Barnes.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Bucky and me’ll always spend time together, Ma,” he promised. “We’re friends forever.”

What was meant to be a reassurance, however, seemed to kill his Ma’s grin. She sent him a soft, sad look before tucking into breakfast. “I hope so, Stiofán. But don’t think you won’t get old.”

“I’m only thirteen, Ma!” Steve protested. Fiona leaned her head against his side sympathetically, and the weight of her sent him listing to the side for a moment.

“Fi, stoppit!” he giggled. “Why’re you so big?”

Fiona, looking contrite, seemed to shiver in her skin like she always did when she was trying to change shape. But instead of bursting into the air as a pigeon, or scurrying up his arm as a squirrel, she remained solidly feline and solidly big. Steve frowned, tipping his head forward to peer at her.

Aodhan and Ma both laughed. Steve turned a sharp, worried look to his mother.

“What?” he asked. Turning back, he said, “Fi, what’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, a leanbh ,” Ma breathed. “What did I say?”

Fiona giggled. “I can’t! Stevie!”

It took Steve a bit too long to understand the situation, but when he did he turned an incredulous stare on Fiona. “You settled so big ,” he laughed.

“Bit inconvenient,” Aodhan muttered behind his shaggy russet mustache, but he was grinning his doggy grin, as overjoyed as Sarah was.

“The size of a daemon doesn’t depend on the size of the person,” Ma reminded him. Steve knew that. He knew that Mr. Tonks, hulking as he was, had a little rabbit daemon, and everyone in the world knew that Marlene Dietrich’s daemon was a honking big bear, something the newspapers always thought was real funny.

“Boys at school are gonna have a field day,” Steve told her anyway. Nobody but Bucky seemed to understand why Steve walked around with a mountain lion for a daemon most of the time. Now that she’d settled, he could just imagine how they’d tease.

“The boys at school are silly little idiots,” Aodhan grumbled.

That sent Fiona and Steve into a fit of giggles that carried them through breakfast.

***

He’d been right about the boys at school.

When words got around that Steve’s daemon had settled, Tommy Wies came over to him at lunch as asked him if he thought it was funny that his daemon was four times the size of him.

Miriam, lounging at Bucky’s feet as a german shepherd, snarled at him, and Tommy laughed it off but he didn’t say another word to Steve all day. Unfortunately, Bucky couldn’t be around forever, and after last period, when Steve was gathering his papers from arithmetic, Bobby and Tony Gottardo ambled over.

The three of them exchanged some words, and it all ended with Bucky finding Steve getting his lights knocked out of him in front of the school. Fiona was snapping and yowling at the Gottardo’s daemons, and Bucky had to wade in and break the fight up with a solid-looking kick to Tony’s keister.

“God, some of these eye-talians really are dumb,” Bucky huffed after the boys had beat feet down the sidewalk. “How many times I gotta lay them out flat before they leave well enough alone?”

Steve sent Bucky a dark look. “You didn’t lay anyone out, Buck. Tony and Bobby are just babies.”

Bucky scoffed. “Maybe not that time, but last time, I made Bobby bleed so bad I just about called a doctor so’s I didn’t have to go on the lam.”

Fiona snorted. “You did no such thing,” she told him imperiously.

Miriam perked up. “If you asked Bobby, he just about got murdered in that fight.”

The four of them ambled their way back home, About halfway to Bucky’s flat, where they were stashing their school stuff and cleaning up before heading over to the park-Steve couldn’t very well go home now, not with a bloody nose-Miriam turned to Steve and Fiona and eyed them.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

It was crystal what she was asking. Miriam, even though Bucky was a year older, still hadn’t settled.

Fiona shrugged her big furry shoulders. “Boring, but nice. Feels right, like a pair of shoes that I’ve had few ages, so they fit real good. But I think I’ll miss flying.”

“Shoulda settled as a big bird,” Bucky laughed. “A bald eagle, or something. Or a hawk, to go with that big nose.”

Steve shoved at Bucky playfully. “Well, then Miriam should settle as a pig, to go with your nose.”

Bucky, vainer than Steve by a mile, reeled back, patting at his nose like he was checking that it was still as perfect as ever. He scowled when that sent Steve laughing.

“Fi shoulda been an elephant, to match your ears!”

“Miriam could settle as a beaver so you could have matching buck teeth,” Steve shot back, still laughing.

Bucky huffed, but Steve knew he wasn’t that sore.

They spent the rest of the walk joking and fooling around, and when they barrelled into the Barnes flat, Bucky had Steve under his arm, mussing up his hair with his knuckles.

Mrs. Barnes started fussing as soon as she saw Steve’s face, but luckily she didn’t threaten to tell his Ma, trusting that Steve wouldn’t hide it from her. She did make him sit at the dining room table, though, and allow her to clean him up a little. She didn’t have his Ma’s practice at nursing, but she’d raised Bucky, and the frequency with which her son was being pulled into scraps meant she was no slouch. Amos chittered the entire time, scolding them all for fighting just like he always did. The boys and their daemons ignored him, as they always did.

“The only thing I have to give you for your birthday is some advice, Steven,” Mrs. Barnes said lightly. “Stay out of trouble!”

Steve offered her a beatific smile, the smile he offered to teachers and shopkeepers and Mrs. Barnes whenever he was trying to pretend he wasn’t an absolute scoundrel. It drove Bucky up the walls; he called it his saintly smirk. “I try, Mrs. Barnes. Trouble just always seems to find me!”

Mrs. Barnes and Amos hmmphed in unison, and Bucky snorted.

“Bucky, I expect you back home in time for supper. It might be Steven’s birthday, but you still have school tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ma,” Bucky and Steve chorused. She scowled and shooed them out of the house.

Steve shook his head. “She didn’t even notice Fiona’s settled,” he scoffed. “Guess Steve Rogers walking around with a puma for a daemon is just common sense to her.”

“Sure it is, pal,” Bucky drawled easily. “You may be short, but you’re just about the loudest guy I know. You’re bigger inside than out, is all. You ain’t no mouse.”

“What do you think you’ll settle as?” Fiona asked Miriam, who’d taken Fiona’s new size as an opportunity to be lazy, and shifted into a strange little lizard, riding on her back. She had the air of a haughty little queen that way, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the smug little lizard smile she was sporting.

Miriam was quiet for a moment as she and Bucky shared a thoughtful look.

“A dog, probably,” Bucky answered first. “Most folks have dog daemons.”

Fiona shook her head. “You’re not most.”

Steve blushed a little at that. Bucky wasn’t most folks. Bucky was brave and handsome and kind and strong. Bucky talked a big game about how Steve was bigger on the inside, but honestly, Steve thought Bucky’s beautiful outside matched his insides. It was no wonder that all the girls at school had started taking real long looks at Steve’s best friend. There was something about the air around Bucky when he got real excited about a new song. When he laughed it was like his whole face opened up and you could see the damn sun shining out his eyes.

Miriam would settle as something even grander than a mountain lion. She’d be a real noble bird, maybe, because of Bucky’s sharp eyes, or a peacock cause of how nice his face was. Or maybe a wolf, like James Connolly had had.

“A horse, maybe,” Miriam said.

It was funny, because Steve couldn’t see that at all. Miriam had never been a horse in her life. Hell, none of them had ever seen a horse in their lives. But Steve was picturing Bucky astride a huge destrier, dressed like a knight, and it made him laugh so hard he almost gave himself an asthma attack. “You are a real horse’s ass,” he gasped.

“Maybe I’ll be something real strange,” Bucky said, and he was still smiling, but it looked pained. “Something odd, that’ll scare off anyone tryin’ to give us a hard time.”

Miriam shivered, shifting rapidly. She was a spider first, fearsome and black, before she draped over Fiona’s back as a big brown snake. It was followed by a strange hairless cat, a blind and eerie bat. Finally, Miriam clambered to Fiona’s rump, a brown little thing with huge, luminous golden eyes. Her small triangle ears sat at the sides of her head like horns, and a long tail that curled over her chest.

Steve blinked. “What are you?” he asked. Miriam only stared up at him.

“So one in a book of daemons once. Like a monkey, sorta. Strange, right?” Bucky murmured.

“She’s beautiful, Buck,” Steve assured him. “Very beautiful.”

Bucky shrugged and picked up his pace like he was eager to see the Bianchi sisters. Like the discussion was unimportant.

Steve felt distinctly that he’d missed something in the exchange, and Bucky was disappointed in him.

#steve rogers #stucky #steve/bucky #daemons #daemon au #my fic

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

21, Indruck (for the Mermay minifics)

Note: Duck’s design is based on a Grouper (aka one of the strongest fish) and Indrid’s is based on an Oarfish.

Every mer in Kepler Cove knows not to go near the strange lights. Lights that glow bright orange or deep purple, flicker gold to green or fade from blue to silver. But Duck is desperate.

And so when night falls, and all sensible creatures are safe in their beds or dens or buried beneath the sand, he swims across the flat, empty patch of sand to the cave on the outskirts of town, green lights guiding his way tonight.

The house is cluttered with bottles and shells, with drawings and discarded pufferfish quills, and all around him the lights swirl. They’re solid when they bump him, but when he holds one in his hand, it isn’t an object his eyes understand.

It’s when he looks up to find two red lights, glowing more dimly than the others, staring him down that he remembers the warnings.

“Uh-”

“I am surprised to see you, Duck Newton. In most future, you decided on the prudent option and stayed far away.” The mer comes into view, his silvery tail, streaked with a red fin, matching his silver hair. The tail is much longer than Duck’s own, even though it ends in a standard fin. And he’s grinning. It’s not a Great White grin, but it doesn’t put Duck at ease.

“You gonna make me regret it? And how do you know-”

‘Your name” The mer says along with him, “I can see the future. Or futures, I suppose, churning and changing, flitting in and out of view like sardines in a school.” He circles Duck slowly, his form long and lean next to Duck’s, which is built for power and unassuming in it’s mottled green, black and white. He remembers the stories of sea serpents, of mers with strange tails and angular faces who would lure the unsuspecting out into the deep trenches, never to be seen again.

“Then you know-”

“-why you are here? I can see it coming, but perhaps you would like to tell me yourself.”

“Do you know what’s been happenin to folks around here?”

“The plague? Yes. I...I tried to warn your predecessor that such a thing might come on the tides. He chose not to listen. And now you are here, a new chosen guardian, forced to bear the results of his disregarding me.”

“There ain’t any record of you tellin him that.” Duck says cautiously.

“Is there mention of someone called Indrid Cold?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it.”

The mer points to himself without another word, then swims to his wall and removes several drawings, the images evaporating as he does.

“Oh. Uh, didn’t know that’s your name.”

“Of course not. Everyone calls me the witch. Or worse. And only the desperate would seek out a monster mer, and I watched the futures as you narrowed your options little by little until deciding on me. This spell” he catches a smaller light in his hand, “will produce a special plant that when ingested will cure those who are ill. But it will cost you.”

“Ah. You’re that kind of mer.” Duck crosses his arms with a roll of the eyes.

Indrid whirls, knocking lights aside as he hisses, “No, I am not. This is how magic of this caliber works. It cannot be given for nothing, no matter how much I wish I could do just that. I do not desire anything from my fellow creatures other than peace and respect, and yet I must demand a great deal to deliver what they ask of me. The choice is yours, Duck Newton; seek my help or do not, but do not act as though I am some predator laying in wait in the dark.” He flicks his tail dismissively, goes back to what must be his desk, fin tense as he waits for Duck to respond.

Duck looks at the spell, “What’s the price?”

“Ask it.” Indrid sighs, jerking his tail towards the spell.

Duck gazes at the light, repeats the question, and gets a flash of two luminous red pearls.

“Ah fuck, those only turn up in the oysters near the damn Nettle Eels.”

“Unfortunate.” Indrid continues drawing, back resolutely towards him, “if you decide to attempt it, bring the asked for items here. Only then can you release the spell.” His fin is limp now, his shoulders sag.

“I’ll do my best. And, uh, Mr. Cold?”

“Indrid is fine.”

“I believe you. About it not bein’ your doin’.”

With that, he swims back to town. But as he glances over his shoulder, still not certain if Indrid is dangerous, the other man is watching him. When he notices Duck has turned to look at him, he lifts his hand in shy wave farewell.

--------------------------------------------

“You still got that spell?”

Indrid turns, knowing what he’ll see yet smiling all the same when he does; Duck Newton, arms clearly stinging, with two red pearls in his hands. He retrieves the spell, takes the stones and places them with other items the magic has demanded. As soon as Duck touches the spell, the light bursts into a thousand little specks.

“It is done. The grove of plants should be ready by the time you return to your home.”

“Thank fuck.” Duck slumps against the wall. Then he holds out his hand.

Indrid cocks his head, perplexed. Duck makes an awkward sound in the back of his throat, hand returning to his side.

“I just, uh, wanted to say thanks. For helpin’ me. Lotta people are gonna be alive because of you.”

“More would be if I had convinced your predecessor of the severity of the plague.”

“Hey now” Duck swims closer, and Indrid finds he has no instinct to back away, “he was a dipshit. Don’t gotta take the blame for that.” He holds out his hand again, and this time Indrid takes it, shaking it. Duck smiles when he does.

As the other man swims towards the exit, he pauses, “There was another spell, wasn’t there? One that woulda cured it without the plant step.”

Indrid swallows, “Yes.”

“What was the price?”

‘I believe it requires a stone from the valley surrounded by the mer-eating eels. The one, ah, almost no one returns from.”

“That’s what I thought. Thanks, Indrid. Thanks for lookin out for me.”

Indrid wishes he could curl his tail all the way around him so he no longer has to deal with the sensation of Duck looking at him with unfamiliar kindness.

“You are welcome. If you ever need my assistance, you know where to find me.”

---------------------------------

“Damn thing bit straight through my sword. Minerva’s too.”

Indrid examines the snapped metal, then begins swimming between the lights, “Do you think an increased offensive capability or a defensive one will be better for ridding the reef of the Giant Scorpionfish?”

“Ain’t sure, futures don’t happen to have any clues?”

Indrid pauses, tail waving lazily, then shakes his head, “it seems the two show about the same outcomes of success.”

“In that case, let’s go with somethin’ that’ll keep us safe while fightin it. Don’t really feel like havin some super-powerful weapon floatin around after this is done.”

Indrid picks a golden light from the air, hands it to Duck. This time, he doesn’t immediately move away, instead waits for him to learn the price.

Duck shuts his eyes, gets an image of deep blue eggs. Then he shivers, Indrid’s tail having brushed along his by accident.

“Eagle Ray eggs. Do you think it wants all of ‘em? Seems kinda rude to take the whole nest.”

“Hmmmm, looking at the futures, it seems two or three will suffice.”

“Gotcha. It may think that’s some tricky quest, but I happen to know where a lot of different nests are around here. I’ll be back in an hour.”

----------------------------------------------------

“Got your message, you said a tidal storm was comin?”

“Yes, we have about five hours at maximum before it hits here. I already found the protection spell and learned the price, to expedite things. It wants a black pearl, a rare red sea flower, and gold from a sunken ship.” Indrid swims back and forth between drawings, erasing and recreating as the futures change.

“Fuck, okay. Uh, I’m allowed to have help, right?’

“Of course.”

“I’ll send Juno after the flower, Dani and Aubrey can help her. And Ned’s real good at findin gemstones in a hurry. I know there’s a wreck about a two mile swim thataway, but it’s been picked over.”

“I may be able to help; we can use my powers to locate the stray, remaining gold. Come, there is no time to lose.” He darts out of the cave and Duck follows him, watches the light glint off his scales, the way his body twists and speeds through the water.

Even if they fail, at least his last mission will have had a hell of a view.

-------------------------------------

“‘Drid, I was wonderin if you...uh, didn’t know you had pets.”

“I do not. Or, ah, I did not, The Eagle Ray eggs hatched. The spells almost never want animals, so it never occurred to me that the eggs would remain viable--AH! Careful with that, I know you are getting used to your wings but those are fragile. Anyway, what do you need?”

“Not a spell, but could you use your future vision to see if the issues with the Kelp fields are gonna lead to somethin bigger?’

“Why Duck, are you really giving me the honor of being an advisor to a Chosen?”

“ Damn right I am. Also that ray is chewin on your desk chair.”

“AH!”

-----------------------------------------

“Hey ‘Drid, can I uh, um, I need some help.”

“Of course, let me just finish feeding Spot and Speckle their dinner. Is it a spell or a future?”

“Uh, it’s, uh, fuck, a, uh, spell? Yeah, a uh, fuck, spell. I need some help findin my, uh, fuck, keys? No, fuck, I mean-”

“You don’t have a reason for coming, do you.”

“Nope.”

“There is no need to lie about one. Wanting to visit is reason enough. You are welcome here any time, my friend.”

------------------------

“Nice, ain’t it?” Duck stretches out on the warm rock, sun soaking into his chest.

“Mmmmmhmmm.” Indrid hums beside him, long tail draped off the edge and into the water.

“You said you don’t come up here much.”

“I had some run-ins with sailors I tried to warn off oncoming disasters. I became a bit of a local legend, an omen of doom, and so decided it was best to lay low.” The words are detached, but Duck rolls over to find Indrid staring wistfully up at the sky, “I do enjoy it up here. I like watching the stars, seeing all the snippets of a new and different world. Some days I think I love the surface as much as I love home. Perhaps that is silly.”

Duck rolls onto his side, “Ain’t nothin silly about lovin’ somethin’ incredible. I mean look” he points the forest, the tangle of green looking down on the shore from the hills, “look at that. How does it grow? What lives there? There’s so much to know about nature, up top and below.”

Indrid is on his side now as well, “Thank you. It is nice to know I am not alone. In, ah, in my thoughts, that is.”

Duck reaches for his hand, and when Indrid scoots close enough to give it, Duck presses their tails together. Indrid sighs at the contact, and soon his tail is draped over Duck’s, his fingers tracing abstract patterns up and down Duck’s arm.

“‘Drid? Would, uh, would you ever wanna maybe...move closer to town? I know Barclay’s been visitin more, Dani too. Seems like you’re startin to know more folks in town. There’s, uh, a house near mine that just opened up. We could be neighbors?” The note when his voice turns up at the end is steeped in vulnerable hope that he prays Indrid can’t hear.

Red eyes regard him, “No, Duck. I do not think I could be. I am a solitary creature. The spells I help usher into the world and keep safe can be dangerous in their demands, attract dangerous beings in search of them. I ought to remain so, more for the sake of whoever wishes to be close to me than for my own.”

“But-”

“I need to return home. Farewell, Duck.” He slithers off the rock, and by the time Duck is in the water there’s only a flash of silver, disappearing into the darkness on the edge of town.

------------------------------------------------

“Barclay, you seen ‘Drid lately?”

“Uh huh, saw him yesterday when I ran some food over. I wanted him to try my new red snapper wraps.”

“Oh. So he’s, uh, fine then?”

“Seems to be. Why?”

“The last few times I gone to see him, he ain’t been home. I’m worried I mighta done somethin’ to offend him.”

“Nah, I bet it’s just a run of bad timing. Indrid likes you more than anyone else on this reef.”

“...If I send someone else to get spells or info, he’s always there.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

---------------------------------------

“Mr. Cold, I am here on the utmost urgent business.”

“Hello to you too, Ned, and Indrid is fine. What is…” He sees the oncoming answer and blanches from top to tail with fear.

“Duck is ill?”

“He hasn’t been able to get out of bed for a week. Barely consumes food or drink. The lovely Dani took a look at him, but it does not seem to be an ailment know to her.”

“Show me the way to him. Please.” Indrid follows Ned, and the lights follow Indrid, his foresight not showing him enough to know which spell may be needed. They wind through town, whispers darting from house to house as they do.

The night is only made worse by what he discovers when he reaches Duck’s side.

“He is heartsick. That is why Dani was unable to find means of healing him. Only one exists.”

“One of your, like, spells?” Aubrey asks hopefully, red tail twitching with worry.

“No. It can only be cured with a kiss from one who loves him. Romantically, I should add, as the illness is brought on by a romantic love that one tries to repress or destroy. Do any of you know someone who loves Duck that way?”

All heads in the room shake. He sighs, “May I have a moment of privacy to think?”

When they’re alone, he strokes Duck’s brow, tail curling protectively around him without him truly meaning too.

Then he leans down and plants a single, tender kiss to Duck’s lips.

Mismatched eyes flutter open.

“‘Oh thank goodness.”

“Fuck, whole body feels like I just got over the fin-pox.” Duck rolls his shoulders. Indrid realizes he hasn’t moved away from him, can’t bring himself to do so.

“‘Drid? Did, uh, did you just kiss me?”

“I, I did. I am sorry, it was the only-”

He’s yanked into the bed, one hand tangled in his hair as the other traps their hips together. Ducks tail flaps excitedly and Indrid’s curls around it as many times as he can.

“I tried so fuckin hard, darlin, I thought you were angry with me, or that you were pushin me away for my own good, and as much as I missed you I didn’t wanna push you so I tried not to think about you, but, but I, I just started feelin’ sicker and sicker whenever I pushed thoughts of you away.

“Oh my, love, I am sorry. I only meant to keep you safe. I never meant to hurt you so.”

“It ain’t your doin’; I’m the dipshit who couldn’t tell you how I felt. I know you didn’t want to be with anyone-”

“-you are right, I thought it would be dangerous. But, well, in the last few weeks, I have realized that while my powers make for an oft-dangerous time, so does your position in the reef. And I, I missed you terribly. I want to be by your side, Duck Newton, if you will still have me.”

Duck runs a firm hand down his tail, grinning brighter than the lights still spinning around them, “You know, darlin, I think I’ll do just that.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #Indruck #mermaid au #mermay fills

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banshee1013 · 5 years

Text

Through The Looking Glass

A little something for my Family Business Supernatural RP Twitter family.

Don’t worry, gals - we’ll go on our hunting trip with the boys soon. First, gotta lay some groundwork...

*********************************************

I think… I think I've actually figured it out.

How to get to Dean's world. To Sam, and Cas, and Jack.

And maybe even get them back here, too. But, one thing at a time.

A mirror stood propped against the closet door in my spare bedroom. Standing in front of it, I wonder if I have the strength, and the courage to try.

Maybe not - but I certainly have the will. This is something I've wanted since… well, a year ago, when I first discovered this universe existed.

And even more so after meeting them, talking to them - even if only through the "magic" of Twitter.

Yeah, "magic" - because that doesn't exist in this world. I can't draw a sigil, light a concoction on fire, and mumble some Latin to make it happen.

It's going to require more… MUCH more.

**********************

@Redbanshee: Hey Dean… are you there?

@DWImpala67: Yeah… what's up? Are you ok?

@DWImpala67: I mean, you never DM me…

@DWImpala67: Cee? You ok?

@Redbanshee: Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, just… trying to figure out how to approach this…

@Redbanshee: Out with it, I guess. So, I've figured it out… I think.

@DWImpala67: Figured what out?

@Redbanshee: How to get there. To your world.

@DWImpala67: Uh. That's not possible.

@DWImpala67: … is it?

@Redbanshee: It might be. I guess we'll find out. Where are you?

@DWImpala67: At the Bunker. Why?

@Redbanshee: And Sam? Cas? Jack?

@DWImpala67: Jack and Sam are. Cas is still not back from Heaven.

@Redbanshee: OK… ok. Just… head outside the Bunker, ok? By the door.

@DWImpala67: … why?

@Redbanshee: Because, for the first test, I don't want to try to breach the Bunker's defenses. I can visualize the outside well enough, and it's safer.

@Redbanshee: Dean? Still there?

@DWImpala67: Yeah, I'm still here.

@DWImpala67: I just don't know how you're going to do this…

@Redbanshee: Well, if it works, I'll explain how it happened.

@Redbanshee: No sense in talking about it if it doesn't work.

@DWImpala67: Ok, I'm outside now.

@Redbanshee: OK. Here goes nothing…

********************************

I started to prepare myself, visualizing the outside of the Bunker, as I'd seen it a million times on the show.

I checked my phone - Twitter was still up, the DM to Dean still active. Do I have everything? I'm going to a place where monsters - real-life monsters - exist. But I'm entering at a relatively safe place with that world's greatest Hunter waiting for me, outside a literal fortress. I should be ok, at least for this trial run.

Then I thought of something…

"Alexa… what time is it in Kansas?"

"It's 7:54 pm"

OK then.

I closed my eyes and focused hard on the image in my mind. I envisioned the position of the sun, how it would be dipping toward the horizon and heading into late twilight. I imagined the smell of the dust and brush outside the Bunker door, how the gravel and dirt would crunch under my feet… and walked toward the mirror.

I walked into the mirror…

… and miraculously, through it.

***********************************

I felt a tingle, like the prickle of course hair, across my skin. The brush of the carpet turned into the crunch of dirt, and kicked up a dust cloud I could smell as I stumbled slightly at the change of footing. The air was cool and dry, and a light breeze brushed a lock of hair across my face. The light through my closed eyelids changed hue, going from the pale white of LED lights to a golden glow.

My eyes were still closed when I felt two hands on my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks.

"Holy crap… Cee… is that really you?" Dean's deep, gravelly voice, right in front of me.

I opened my eyes to a flannel-covered chest an arm's length away. Blinking, I slowly looked up… and up, damn he was tall… and found myself staring into the face of…

Jensen Ackles.

OK, a way more world-weary version, with a few more worry lines and a fresh cut at his temple from the vamp hunt he had just returned from. Eyes wide, the fading sun catching them and sparking them ivy green. Mouth slightly agape in surprise. But the resemblance was UNCANNY.

"Wow. I guess Jensen really *was* born to play you…"

The hands at my shoulders squeezed, hard, as if to test my solidity. I flinched, and convinced I wasn't a figment of his imagination, his hands lifted and hovered briefly before falling to his sides as he continued to stare, wordless.

I was not yet convinced I was here. I reached up and poked him in the shoulder… HARD.

He was solid, all right… and as he was not prepared for it, I actually managed to knock him a little off balance.

"Holy shit.". Both of us, at the same time.

The next thing I knew, my face was buried in his flannel shirt, his arms wrapped around me in a tight hug.

I wrapped mine around his waist and might have even bounced a bit. "Ohmygod Dean!" I might have squealed a little. "It's… it's really you… YOU!"

We broke the hug and finally I saw it, live and in concert - that soft, sweet, beaming smile, his eyes crinkled in the corners.

"C'mon… we gotta talk about this… how the hell… Sammy's gonna lose his shit!"

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and guided me into the Bunker.

***********************************

The walk into the Bunker was surreal - the grunt from Dean as he hefted the heavy outer door open, the scrape of metal as it closed. The tap of shoes on metal as we climbed the spiral stairs down. The squeak of the inner door hinges as it opened, and again as it closed.

The sight of the glowing map table, the ancient radio and electronic monitoring equipment. The hum in the air I felt more than heard.

Sam Winchester, standing in the archway leading to the Library.

Sam. Fucking. Winchester. Staring at me like I were a ghost.

Like Dean, he was the spitting image of Jared Padalecki, the actor that portrayed him. But Jared's soft smile and puppy-dog eyes were gone, replaced by ones with a harder edge to them.

Not that I can blame either of them - I know the things they've seen, and fought, and endured.

Dean's hand at the small of my back urged me down the stairs, and Sam met us at the base. He grew taller, and taller… and taller, as I descended and by the time I reached the last step I was craning my neck back in order to meet his puzzled hazel eyes.

I thrust my hand out, grinning like an idiot. "Hey, Sam, it's me… Celina, from Twitter…"

Ignoring my outthrust hand, he gave a tentative squeeze of my arm, testing much like Dean had - then pulled me into his giant hug. I thought he was going to suffocate me for a minute as my head barely reached his ribcage, and discovered that, yes, breathing was still a required activity here which probably ruled out astral projection. I happily squeezed him right back, then broke the hug to catch my breath.

He grabbed my shoulders, holding me out at arm's length. "But…h- how?" he stammered.

Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder and led the way past the map table and into the Library.

"That's next on the agenda."

********************************************

I was sitting at the table in the Library. THE. BUNKER. LIBRARY.

I swirled the glass of whiskey Dean had poured for me. Raised it to my nose and inhaled the heady aroma before taking a long pull. It burned my throat as I swallowed, and it was *delicious*.

Confirmed, once again - all five senses present.

Sam sat at the table across from me, laptop open, fingers tapping against the keys. Dean sat on my right, his own glass already empty. He rose and walked to the trolley where the liquor was kept up to pour himself more, and after consideration, brought the entire bottle back to the table. Sitting back down, he tipped another finger's worth into my glass.

"Thanks." My gaze took in the room, noticed the quiet. "Where's Jack?" I asked to no one in particular.

"In the Dean-Cave," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Watching 'Star Wars' for the umpteen millionth time."

"Oh cool! Can I go see him?" I started to rise from the chair.

"Not so fast," Sam said curtly from behind the laptop, and Dean reached for my arm, pulling me gently back to my seat.

I got it. Like good dads, they wanted to vet the relative stranger who miraculously appeared on their doorway before exposing him to me. I totally agreed - especially since I was still unclear how this all worked, and wouldn't have the slightest idea how to explain it to him how I got here, anyway.

I also knew his first question would be if I were there to take him to Disneyland as we had talked about - another thing I didn't have an answer for - yet.

Sam looked up from the keyboard and switched to full interrogator mode. "Ok, so… HOW did this happen? How are you here?" He gestured toward the laptop. "There's nothing in the lore about traveling between universes that doesn't require a powerful witch and archangel grace."

I took another swig of the whiskey to gather my thoughts. How to explain this?

"I walked through a mirror," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You walked… what? Like 'Alice in Wonderland' or something?" Dean asked, skeptical.

"Yeah, I know what it sounds like… but that's what I did. " I turned to Dean. "What did it look like… when I came through?"

His eyes unfocused, recalling. "There was… a… shimmer, sorta like, I dunno, light… bending around something." He scowled, uncertain.

"That's… impossible." Sam declared. "Something like that would *have* to require some form of spell - and we know for a fact that doesn't work in your world."

I nodded in agreement - I knew they had already experienced that lack when Balthazar had thrown them into my world several years ago.

"That doesn't mean there isn't… power there, for lack of a better term." I paused, trying to find the words. "It's belief… believing in something *so strongly*, that it comes into being."

"Tulpa." Dean and Sam said simultaneously. A grin flashed across my face, hearing the fandom squeal in my head: "I love it when they talk in unison!"

I shook my head. "Can't be. A Tulpa is a real thing… creature?... here, but not where I'm from. This was *literally* the power of… positive thinking."

I thought of all the self-help gurus making millions off this idea - "The Secret", et al. Jesus, could they be right?

I mean, I've tried visualizing winning the lottery for *years* to absolutely no avail. Of course, would help if I actually bought a ticket. The Lord helps those who help themselves, or something.

"So you're trying to tell me you just… WISHED your way here?" Dean demanded, incredulous. "Like… friggin' OZ? Clicked your heels and said 'There's no place like home'?"

I couldn't help but laugh at his expression - brows furrowed and lips downturned to a frown, as if outraged at the idea.

His scowl deepened at my laughter, but Sam snorted.

"Wow, Dean… that's two literary references in under 5 minutes. That's gotta be a record!"

"Shut up!"

Sam laughed again, turning back to me.

"Walk us through what you did," he said patiently.

So I did. I told them about visualizing the Bunker grounds and the door, focusing on it, and walking through the mirror… "Oh, and Twitter. I had a DM open to Dean when I did it." I shrugged. "I thought it might act as a sort of… I dunno, GPS?... to guide me here."

"Well, that begs another question, " Sam mused. "How do you get back?"

My brain stopped for a moment. I hadn't stopped to consider *that*. HAHA, oops. "Uh… I dunno?"

Dean rose from his chair to glare down at me. "You… wished yourself here, without an exit plan?" he growled. "A WORLD FULL OF MONSTERS, and Chuck breathing down our necks?"

"Dean…" Sam interjected as I involuntarily backed away at his tone.

Yeah, just as intimidating in person, if not more so.

"I don't believe this!" Dean threw his arms up in exasperation.

"I'm s-sure it's not that hard…" I stammered. "Maybe just, uh, kill the Twitter feed, or… just stop believing…"

But that was going to be difficult. I have living, breathing, SHOUTING proof that it was ALL REAL, and all RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME.

And it would be bad news bears if killing Twitter was the key - what if my battery died while I was here? Would I just pop out of existence, and back to my world?

Actually, that could come in handy if it were the case, and a pack of monsters were after me. But what if it happened and I didn't want to leave?

What if I ended up in some… limbo somewhere?

I was snapped out of my musing by Dean's hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry, kiddo." he sighed. "I'm just worried about you. You're not safe here."

That was the crux of the outburst, wasn't it? Dean's overwhelming need to keep everyone SAFE. I smiled wanly up at him.

"Well, only way to find out is… to try it." I reached into my pocket for my phone… and realized with a jolt - of course I wouldn't have signal here. Verizon might exist in this universe, but I sure as hell didn't have an account with them. A check of the signal indicator confirmed my suspicions.

I showed the phone to Sam before Dean snatched it out of my hand to look for himself. "Well, that's just great." He pinched his nose with his fingers.

"Dean, we'll figure it out…" I said, reaching a hand to tug at his sleeve. "I.. I’m sorry. Please don't be mad… I didn't know how else… I had to try it to see if it would work!"

My eyes betrayed me, leaking several tears.

Dean took a deep breath, and sighing it out, sat back down. "I know we will," he said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze. Seeing the tears, his face fell and he reached to wipe them away.

"Hey, hey… none of that. It's gonna be ok, kiddo, I promise."

I had to laugh at that. "Kiddo, huh? I'm older than you, sonny."

Dean smirked. "No way… and it doesn't matter because you're new here, so you're still a 'kiddo'."

Sam matched Dean's smile, and reached over for my free hand. "Besides… it's really good to see you!"

"It's… amazing to see you guys, too. You have no idea…" Dammit. My eyes were betraying me again.

Sam released my hand and came around to the other side of the table. Leaned over to hug me, his chin on the top of my head, arms wrapped around my shoulders.

Dean grabbed my recently freed hand and squeezed both, then pulled me up, Sam rising along with me. Dean pulled us both into his arms and I found myself squished between them.

I've had photo ops like this, with their doppelgangers. Those were awesome.

This was SO MUCH BETTER.

Dean released us, and Sam let go as well. We were still standing there when Jack walked in.

"I heard shouting… oh, hello!" He waved at me, a happy, if puzzled, smile on his face. "Who are you?"

"Oh… hi Jack…" I said weakly, as Sam said "Jack! Uh… I thought you were watching 'Star Wars'?"

Jack turned to Sam. "I was, but the movie ended and I was putting on the next one when I heard shouting, and I came to see what it was." He turned to Dean. "I thought it was Cas… is he home yet, Dean?" A worried frown creased his innocent face.

"I'm sure he's fine, Jack," Dean said reassuringly. Jack smiled, of course believing him. "I'm sure you're right." He turned back to me, and his head cocked like a puppy, expectantly, awaiting an answer to his earlier question.

No sense in putting it off… besides, he was just SO adorable and I unbelievingly happy to see him. "Hey Jack… you're not gonna believe this, but it's me… it's Celina. From Twitter."

His head cocked the other way, expression puzzled. "But… how can that be?" He turned to Sam. "You said we couldn't go to where our Twitter friends were…"

"We're still trying to figure that out, Jack…" Sam said calmly. "But it's real. It's really her."

"It's really me, Jack." I walked slowly around the table, approaching him, my hand held out to him.

For the third time, I found myself poked and squeezed, before being squished.

"Is it true? Is it really YOU?" he asked excitedly. "Does this mean we can go to Disneyland!?" He was practically bouncing at this idea, and I couldn't help but laugh.

And I totally called it with the Disneyland thing.

"I dunno, Jack, we'll have to see. This was just an experiment and we're still working out the details," I smiled up at him, grabbing his hands and squeezing. "but I sure hope so. We would have SO MUCH FUN!"

Jack smiled winningly down at me, eyes bright. "We would. I hope we can go."

"We'll work on it, Jack, I promise," Sam said. "Why don't you go watch your movie so we can get back to work figuring this out?"

Jack looked at me forlornly. "Will you be here when the movie is over?"

"I don't know, sweetie," I said hesitantly, then smiled back up at him reassuringly. "But I promise I'll say goodbye before I go, if I can."

"Okay!" He gave me another hug. "It was so good to see you! Bye!" He turned away and headed back to the Cave.

I turned back around. Sam and Dean looked at me expectantly.

"So… what now?" Dean inquired, looking at me, then at Sam. Sam shrugged.

"Since I'm here…" I hesitated. Was it too much to ask? Too bold? I took a breath…

"Wanna tour?" Dean asked, beaming.

"HELL. YES!"

**************************************

Dean led the way, Sam following. He took me to the armory, but refused to let me fire any weapons ("Later, kiddo." "Dean… I'm OLDER THAN YOU!" "Yeah, whatever…"), the infirmary, the gym ("Wow, you have a gym?" "Yeah…” "Surprised you actually found your way here, Dean…").

Then a short series of steps to the garage. Dean flipped on the lights… and there she was.

Dean's Baby, gleaming in the light of the overheads.

"Oh… wow." I breathed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Dean beaming at her like a proud papa.

"Well, you gonna go say Hi, or what?" He gave me a gentle shove toward her.

I approached her slowly, reverently, like the holy artifact she was. The Most Important Object In The Universe. Grazed a hand over her fender, and reaching the driver's side door, leaned in the window.

The initials on the back window deck.

The army men in the ashtray.

I could imagine the Legos in the vent.

I reached in and brushed fingers over the front seat leather. I glanced up over the roof, to the two men standing in the Bunker doorway.

Dean leaning against one of the shelves, grinning at me like a fool.

Sam leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded, eyes rolling. "You're worse than he is!"

Dean laughed and sauntered over to join me at the door, leaning in next to me. "Pretty awesome, right?" I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Gently moving me back, he opened the driver's side door with a flourish and a small bow, sweeping his hand toward the driver's seat.

"Go on, try it out." He faked a frown. "One time only deal."

Grinning like a kid in a candy store, I slid into the seat. Placed my hands on the steering wheel. I couldn’t reach the pedals, obviously.

I bit my lip to keep from crying, and glanced over at Dean. His smile was soft, holding out a hand to assist as I climbed out of the seat, and reached behind me to close the door. Still holding my hand, he led me to the trunk. Fishing the keys out of his pocket, he opened the trunk lid, the inside emblazoned with protective sigils, and raised the false floor, propping it up with the sawed-off shotgun.

I've seen the contents of this trunk hundreds of times, but nothing prepared me for the reality.

Burlap bag filled with salt. A flask marked with a cross - Holy water, of course. An ancient-looking urn full of what could only be holy oil. Several different varieties of religious artifacts. Machetes, and daggers made of several different metals and materials.

The grenade launcher.

"So, you guys almost done with the idol worship? I'm STARVING" Sam huffed from the doorway. Dean glanced at me and rolled his eyes. I snorted and Dean laughed as he lowered the false floor and closed the trunk lid.

He draped an arm over my shoulders. "Sam's right, we need some grub." My stomach took that moment to loudly grumble to accentuate his point. Dean laughed again. "Ok then. Any suggestions?"

"Any chance I could get one of your famous cheeseburgers?"

Dean grinned and gave me a squeeze. "Hell yeah! Let's go!"

We headed back to Sam and the door into the Bunker. Sam flipped off the lights and followed as Dean led us to the kitchen.

************************************************

While Dean made the burgers, Sam asked me what it was like, to live in a world without monsters? I explained to him that we still had monsters, but ours were harder to find since they looked just like us, and even harder to get rid of because of it.

What about angels, or demons? Nope, none of them either - although every organized religion wants you to believe otherwise.

"I'm really bummed I missed meeting *your* angel, though…" I said sadly. I was not about to admit the gigantic crush I had on him… or rather, the character as portrayed on the show depicting their lives.

But… Sam and Dean were *exactly* as they seemed on the show… so one would have to assume Cas would be as well. I gulped, and figured it was probably a good thing he wasn't here so I didn't have the opportunity to make a COMPLETE fool of myself.

Dean served the burgers, Sam grabbed the beer, and we sat around the table in the kitchen. The burgers were phenomenal, the beer cold, and the company was, in a word… AWESOME. I had to stop for a moment to take it all in - sitting in the kitchen of the Bunker, with Sam and Dean Winchester, eating burgers and drinking beer. It was all so surreal.

Sam, noticing my glazed look, nudged me. "Hey, you ok?"

I blinked and refocused, then smiled at him. "Yeah… yeah, I'm great." I waved a hand around the room. "It's just… this." I grabbed his hand, then reached across the table to take Dean's. "You… both of you. I can't believe I'm here…" I swallowed down a wave of emotion. "I can't believe it's real…"

The hand holding Sam's started to tingle… then my arm, and the rest of my body. The smell of the kitchen and the burgers began to fade…

"CEE!" I heard Dean's voice shout. "HEY! Hey…c'mon, come back!"

I felt sharp pressure on my arm, and the room began to solidify again. Sam's hand squeezing my upper arm, Dean pulling on the other.

"OK… ok, I'm back." I shook my head to clear it. I felt two sets of concerned eyes on me.

Squeezing Dean's hand, I met Sam's concerned gaze.

"Well… I think I figured out how to get back…"

***********************

"So let me get this straight," Sam stated, all business. "you felt yourself being pulled back when you began to question the reality of being here?"

"Yeah… I guess? But I've tried repeating it, and haven't been able to." I sighed.

"OK, so," Dean asked, "what do we do now?"

I smirked at him. "Any more vamp nests nearby? Would love to go see if choppin' up some fang is as easy as it looks on TV."

"NO." Dean growled. "HELL. NO." I threw my head back and laughed.

Sam scowled. "Seriously… we have to figure out how to get you back home."

I sighed. I knew he was right, and there were still so many unanswered questions.

For instance… was the passage of time different here?

"Dean… what time is it?"

Dean glanced at his watch. "Goin' on 11… why?"

So I've been here three hours… what if that were three WEEKS back home… three MONTHS… YEARS…

I felt the panic growing… but it couldn't be that big of a time difference. I talked with these guys on Twitter practically *every day*, and there was no indication that time passed any differently here than there. If anything, it was only a matter of minutes, certainly less than an hour or two.

"OK…" I breathed to calm down and focus. "Here's the deal..." I thought back to the tour we took of the Bunker. I didn't recall seeing any floor-length mirrors - this might present a problem. "Are there any mirrors… like, big ones? Floor-length?"

"Yeah… in the gym." Sam answered.

"Ah, right. So… I'm gonna go say goodbye to Jack like I promised. Then I'm gonna do the opposite of what I did to get here - stand in front of the mirror and visualize the room I came here from." Took a deep breath, let it out. "But I'm gonna have to do it alone, and it has to be quiet. I have to focus, and you guys being there will keep pulling me back."

Sam nodded. "Sounds like a plan." He stood and offered me a hand up from the kitchen table, drawing me to my feet and leading me out of the kitchen to the Dean-Cave, with Dean taking up the rear.

I peeked inside. "Return of the Jedi" was playing, Jack sprawled on the couch like your average teenager, fully engrossed in it. I grinned, thinking I should introduce him to the Star TREK movies next.

"Hey, Jack…" I said loudly over the din of the battle on the screen. Jack lifted up to peer over the arm of the couch, saw me and waved, smiling happily. "Hi! Have you come to watch the movie with me?"

"No, I'm sorry, Jack… I have to go. I came to say goodbye, like I promised."

Jack fumbled for the TV remote to pause the movie, and came to give me a hug goodbye. He then stood back with a somber look on his face.

"Did you figure out how to get back home?"

"I think so. I'm going to go try it now." Before he could ask, I offered, "And if it works, I'll start working on how to get you over to my world so we can take that trip to Disneyland, ok?"

He beamed. "Okay! And we'll still talk on Twitter, right?"

His smile was infectious, and I beamed back at him. "Of course! I'll talk to you tomorrow." He waved goodbye and went back to watching his movie. I turned and left, a smile still on my face, but it vanished when I looked at the boys.

It was time to say goodbye.

And I was suddenly so very tired. I stumbled, and Dean caught me as I fell.

"You ok?" Hands on my shoulders, a worried frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah… just… really tired. I think there must be some sort of energy drain by being here as well." I took a deep breath, rolled my neck and shoulders to rouse myself.

"Ok… let's get you to the gym and get you home." Dean guided me down the hall, hand on my back in case I tried to fall again.

We reached the entrance to the gym, and I sighed. "OK guys, this is where you get off."

Dean snorted, and Sam rolled his eyes. "Really, Dean? What are you, twelve?"

"Hey, she started it!" he choked, trying to hold back the laughter, and I couldn't help but laugh with him. What an idiot… and I loved him. I reached up on tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck to give him the biggest hug I could muster and a kiss on the cheek. He hugged back, hard, briefly lifting me off my feet before setting me back down.

Giving me a kiss on the forehead, he let me go.

"It was really awesome seein' you, Cee," he said, his voice rough, the green eyes bright. I smiled into them and patted him on the cheek.

"We'll do it again soon, ok?"

Then Sam spun me around to say his goodbyes. After a giant moose hug and a kiss to the top of my head, he leaned down to look me in the eyes.

"You focus in there, ok, and you get home safe," he said, his voice cracking.

"And you DM us the second you get back, you hear me?" Dean insisted.

"I will. First thing." I grasped each of their hands for a final squeeze. "See you around, boys."

I turned and walked into the gym. Turning, I take one last look at Sam and Dean Winchester, standing in the hallway. I blew them a kiss and closed the door.

*************************************

Silence. Not even the hum of the hidden electronics in the walls to break my concentration.

I focused on the feel of the carpet under my feet, the hue of the LED lights in the bedroom… I *did* have the lights on, right? Yeah… the sound of the ceiling fan whirring.

I closed my eyes and walked toward the mirror.

I walked into the mirror…

… and once again, through it.

Again, my skin tingled, and I stumbled briefly as my feet left the rubberized floor of the gym and onto the low pile of carpet in my spare room.

I opened my eyes. I was home.

First thing I did was look at the clock - 9:23 PM. Converted to Kansas time - no time difference between here, and there. Good to know.

My phone began to beep repeatedly, as messages stockpiled while I was out of signal range began to arrive. I ignored them and fired up Twitter, to do as I promised.

To let the boys know I made it back.

*************************************

@Redbanshee: DEAN! SAM! I made it back!

@DWImpala67: Oh thank G… UGH. We gotta come up with a new saying for that.

@DWImpala67: That's awesome! I'm so glad you're safe.

@ItsSam1983: That's great news, Celina. I'm so relieved!

@Redbanshee: That was… something, wasn't it?

@DWImpala67: Yeah it was something all right…

@DWImpala67: It was CRAZY. INSANE. DANGEROUS.

@DWImpala67: …and it was awesome to see you, and now that we know it works and you can get back home, I hope you come to visit again soon.

@ItsSam1983: What my brother said. It was foolhardy, but also amazing, and awesome to see you in person.

@Redbanshee: I can't wait to do it again, I had THE BEST TIME. And I'll have sweet dreams about those burgers, Dean…

@Redbanshee: Speaking of dreams, I'm about to pass out here on the floor, so I'm gonna hit the hay. Can you tell Jack I'm ok, and I'll work on the Disneyland thing?

@ItsSam1983: You bet. Don't be a stranger.

@DWImpala67: Go get some sleep, kiddo.

@Redbanshee: UGH WITH THE KIDDO THING.

@Redbanshee: … but I love you anyway. :)

@DWImpala67: … I know. :)

@ItSam1983: Rest well, Celina.

@Redbanshee: Hey Sam… call me Cee. :)

@ItsSam1983: You got it… Cee :)

*****************************************

FIN

#fic #friends #sam winchester #dean winchester #jack kline

7 notes · View notes

thefandomlesbian · 5 years

Note

Not sure if you’re still taking prompts but if you are or if you want to write this down the road: Coven canon divergent pre seven wonders prompt where Misty doesn’t leave the academy and ends up being the one to save Cordelia from the axe man.

Read on AO3 for best experience!

“When I stood with you against the storm

And I tried once again

Well, I said, ‘I'd like to leave you

With something warm.’” -Stevie Nicks, “The Nightmare”

...

“I thought you were looking for your tribe.”

Misty raised an eyebrow at Zoe’s sharp quip. Zoe had a point, alright--she had spent years looking for someone else like her, for someone who understood. She found them, the witches. But, as she swept them with her gaze, she knew they were not hers to keep. How could they be? Misty had fled the only life she had ever known to escape death. Zoe had found her twice, now, both times seeking help for a formerly dead person. She could smell the magic on the woman she had recovered and buried. These witches apparently couldn’t manage to stop getting each other killed. She preferred herself alone and alive to dead with friends.

After all, even Stevie needed to leave her tribe for awhile when it all got to be too much. A strong witch had a solo career. “I was. And I am.” Zoe pursed her lips in confusion. “This ain’t it. I got bad vibes.” Something evil exhaled from the house, something dark and cruel and vindictive and all the things Misty actively sought to avoid. Her intuition had never led her astray before. Her grandmother had told her always to trust herself, and she did. The house had eyes in its walls. “Real bad. There’s something foul in this house.” If I stay here, it’s gonna kill me. It’s gonna take the last breath in my body. I ain’t having it.

Zoe and Queenie exchanged a glance. Neither of them attempted to contradict her. They knew the truth. “We need to stay with Madison,” Queenie said. “You sure you got everything you want? You can take a shower or something.”

Misty had done worse things than hitchhike in her life. “Shower’s tempting,” she agreed. “Then I’ll be outta your hair.” Part of her wondered if she ought to move somewhere that the coven couldn’t find her. Nah. They’ll probably need somebody else brought back to life before long.

Where the other witches went, Misty didn’t know; she kept her bag of things on the floor in the bathroom alongside the change of clothes Zoe had given her. They weren’t her style, but they would get her back to the swamp. She didn’t have the liberty to have a style, now, she supposed, being officially homeless without electricity or running water. The warm water from the shower was a novelty she hadn’t known in over a month, and stepping out from under it into the steam of the room filled her with yearning. Misty loved her life in the forest, but she missed twenty-first century hygiene.

She donned the T-shirt and stained hoodie Zoe had given her and swept her hair out of the hood. The sweatpants fit loosely. She pulled the string taut and slipped back into her boots. Emerging from the bathroom, she glanced left and right in search of the other girls, wherever they had gone with Madison. She didn’t see them. But a shriek pierced the air.

Heart leaping into her throat, Misty grabbed her napsack and headed toward the stairs. “Hell, no.” A shower was not worth dying over, but she knew how to get the hell out of dodge before anybody knew any different. The darkness of the house wrapped around her and consumed her, threatening to swallow her whole. She wanted nothing to do with the darkness here or any of the people it already had in its clutches.

The scream echoed again, a woman’s wailing voice, followed by a man’s distinct, grizzled laugher. Misty’s drumming footsteps on the stairs halted at that sound. She’s with a man. Sucking her lower lip, she hesitated. The other girls dashed down the hallway to Cordelia’s room. The woman screamed again. “Cordelia!” Misty’s heart couldn’t take the sound of a damsel in distress. “It’s locked!”

Misty ran to them, her napsack tossed on her shoulder. “The hell do you mean, it’s locked? You’re witches!” Zoe and Queenie continued to jiggle the door handle uselessly, like the weathered lock would break if they kept trying. They ignored her.

“It’s the axe man.”

“You released him?”

Neither of them acknowledged what Misty had said. “I said I would! I lied!”

The bundle of witches raced away. Cordelia belted out another scream. From within the room, the sound of clattering furniture and shattering glass burst. Misty turned on her instinct to follow the girls. “Now dance,” growled a dark voice from within the room. All of the hair on the back of Misty’s neck stood up--pure evil exhaled from the man. I’ve gotta help her.

Taking a step back, Misty dropped her napsack on the floor and kicked upward with all of her strength. The door handle snapped off, but it was still stuck in the frame, rattling as she slammed against it with her shoulder. The old house was not made to cave under slight pressure. “Alohomora!” she screamed at the door. She hoped it would work. It didn’t. “Oh, fuck this.” Circling back, Misty gave herself room for a running start. Another scream burst from the room. “I’m coming!” She charged at the door. Leaping off of the floor, she plunged with both heels into the side of the door. It buckled. She slid into the room on her side, a baseball player aiming for home. “Get away from her!”

The man swung on her. “About time I get a little bit of attention up in here.” He swung a shiny axe in one hand. Misty leapt to her feet. She grabbed a chair and held it up. “You’re not the one who knows me, are you?” The man’s black aura breathed off of his skin like smoke. “You’re not the one who owes me.” He wielded his axe at her. “So you’re just in the way.”

Misty held up the chair and caught the axe in its legs, knocking it back but not out of his hand. “Don’t you touch her!” Everything her father had ever taught her about physical combat came back to haunt her now. Daddy never said my opponent would have an axe and I would have a wooden chair. She charged him with the legs of the chair pointed at him, a bull with its horns prepared to gore the unsuspecting passenger of its field. It brought her closer to Cordelia. She had heard the name in passing from the other witches, but for the first time, she saw the face of the headmistress. Mutilated pink skin crossed her face. Marbled blue eyes peeked out at Misty where acid had stripped all of the pigment from her irises. She’s blind. “Are you okay?”

Buffering lips and a trembling chin met her question. “Who are you?”

Oh. Right. Misty had entirely forgotten that Zoe had brought her here as a secret. She held up the chair as the axe man swung at her again. She hurled the chair at him to deflect his axe. It whooshed through his solid body. “What the fuck is up with this guy?” The chair landed on the other side of him, broken on the floor. The man smirked at her with his salt and pepper hair, looking all too coy for his own good. Misty backed up in front of the table beneath which Cordelia hid--the man had cornered her and left her nowhere to run, nowhere to escape.

Cordelia whimpered audibly. “He’s a ghost! He’s dead!” she blubbered. I’m gonna die in here. The notion had struck Misty when she first entered the house. These walls had power she knew not, and it was a dark power. Reaching behind her, she grabbed a ceramic vase from the table and wielded it like a glass beer bottle by the neck. If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna do it protecting a woman.

He swung the axe. She moved sideways and allowed the blade to plunge into the wall. The moment of it burying into the wood gave him just enough pause for her to smash the vase over his head. At the sound of the exploding vase, Cordelia cried out, shrinking back under the table. He staggered back, cursing. “You can’t hurt me, witch! Your fight is futile!”

“Don’t mean I ain’t gonna give it my best shot.” Misty seized another vase off of the table. The brandished axe caught it and smashed it.

He reached for the last one and smashed it with a dark chuckle, holding contact with her eyes. “You out of ideas now, little girl?” His eyes were deep pools of hatred and filth. Misty held out her hand. A fire poker whistled toward her from across the room. It landed in the palm of her hand. “Oh, that’s new for you!” Yeah, it is. Misty fenced at him like she held a sword in her hand instead of a piece of flimsy metal. “Little spitfire, are you? I can have some fun with this!”

The tip of the fire poker caught on the blade of his axe. Misty glared at his hand as she snatched back against him. His fingers pried open against his will. She flung the axe across the room. It smashed against the wall and landed on the floor. “Ha!”

The axe man’s brawny hand closed around the fire poker. He dragged her close to him and tossed the weapon away. She staggered, unbalanced, and he took the opportunity to grab her by the hood of the sweatshirt Zoe had given her. She whirled. A cold hand closed around her throat. “Uh--” Both of her hands floundered at his, pulling desperately at him as he hoisted her up by her neck. Her feet left the ground. Her throat closed. She couldn’t make a sound except for the deep slurp noises twisting from her body.

The sniveling voice of the woman rose up as she crawled out from under the table. “Don’t hurt her! I’m the one you want!” Misty’s wide eyes darted away from the man’s face to Cordelia’s, her lips slightly parted. I’m fighting for her. Her tunnel vision gradually grew darker. Cordelia, a woman she didn’t know, was willing to sacrifice herself--just as Misty had done by running in here. I’m saving her.

Warmth moved through the axe man’s arm. Blood coursed through his veins once again. Something, some spell, had made him corporeal and mortal once more. Misty’s parted lips opened a little wider. Magic stirred hot and heavy within her abdomen and twisted up through her chest. Her jaw dropped. It touched the top of his fist. Flames bellowed out of Misty’s mouth. At the first flash of heat, he dropped her. Misty dropped to the floor, choking and gagging and gasping. Soft hands sweet as honeycomb patted around her body as she caught her breath.

The stench of smoke filled the room. The axe man, his clothing on fire, staggered across Cordelia’s bed. He howled, an animal in pain. The magic which had made him corporeal had given him mortality. He rolled across the floor. The curtains caught fire, as well; the flames leapt from one to the other. “Are you okay?” Cordelia’s voice was ragged.

Misty staggered to her feet. The smoke clouded around her. She held an arm over her mouth. “C’mon.” Blots of blackness in her vision dizzied her. “Get on my back--Hold onto me.” The heat from the flames and the soot exhaling from the flickering lights of orange stung her eyes. Cordelia grappled with her shoulders. Misty slipped her arms under the legs of the nearly naked woman and ducked her head as she ran through the flames. The fire caught onto the bottoms of her sweatpants. She stomped it out and pretended her skin didn’t itch. On her back, Cordelia buried her face into Misty’s hair. Misty ran toward the staircase. With each step, Cordelia jostled on her back. Overhead, the sound of splintering wood and spreading fire pursued them like a lion on its prey. “Which way is out?”

Bare arms wrapped around Misty’s neck, clinging desperately to her as she felt herself slipping. Misty tightened her hold on her. “Misty,” Cordelia breathed to her ear. I didn’t tell her my name. “It’s--to the right--” Cordelia’s shorts rode up where her legs wrapped around Misty’s middle. Misty grasped her bare thighs. She followed Cordelia’s directions, bowing her head downward to avoid the stinging blackness of the smoke encroaching around her. The flavor of soot on her tongue was a familiar scalding by now, something she revisited in her nightmares.

The front door gaped ajar, pouring smoke into the starry sky. Misty jogged through the door frame. The cold night air swept her up into its arms. The moon itself reached for her, its daughter, and cradled her in its yellow light. She staggered down the steps and stumbled through the grass, almost losing her footing but managing to remain upright. Her arms and back ached with the strain of carrying Cordelia.

The lights in the greenhouse guided her toward the building, outside which the other witches loitered. “You made it!” The cluster of witches approached. Misty leaned back and released Cordelia, letting her place her bare feet on the dewy earth. “How’d you get out? Are you okay?”

Kyle, rocking himself and moaning, danced around Misty with his arms extending and retracting and extended again. “I’m alright, Kyle--I’m alright--” The zombie-like man still insisted on giving her a hug in his strong arms, which Misty reciprocated with a grimace. He smelled like sweat. “Hey, now, no need for tears… Nobody’s hurt.”

“Does anyone have a cigarette?”

Cordelia’s hand closed around Misty’s bicep. “Madison?” she asked in a soft voice. Goosebumps coursed up and down her arms and legs. The cold night air had done no favors for her. She folded her other arm across her chest. “Where have you been? Who is this?” She shivered.

Misty shed the long sweatshirt Zoe had given her and handed it to Cordelia. “Here.” She pulled it over Cordelia’s head for her and guided her arms through the sleeves. “Don’t worry about Kyle. He’s a friend--long as you don’t expose him to none of your valuables. He’s a ouragan, but he means well.” A few hours ago, she never would have guessed she would find herself speaking in Kyle’s defense, but now, much as she was angry with him for destroying her few cherished objects, she couldn’t imagine leaving Kyle to be homeless.

The night wind blew her hair back out of her face as she turned back to look at the academy as it leapt into flames. I think I made all of them homeless. “Fiona will fix it,” Cordelia told her, grasping Misty’s arm still. She pulled the hem of the sweatshirt down over her lower body, trying to cover more of her exposed skin. “Fiona will know what to do.”

“Fiona isn’t answering her phone,” Queenie snapped.

“We’ve got to hide Madison before she shows up,” Zoe said. “She’s safer that way.”

“What about Kyle?” Nan asked. “Fiona won’t let him stay.”

“What about Kyle?” Madison demanded. “You all don’t seriously think Fiona is going to be able to put the house back together? We’re all fucked. Royally fucked. Fiona is going to run away, like she always has, and we’re going to be sleeping on the streets.” She lifted a cigarette to her lips and blew a thin stream of smoke from between them. Coughing brokenly, she appraised Misty through narrowed eyes. “I think you should’ve left me wherever the fuck I was.”

Misty crossed her arms and placed a hand on top of Cordelia’s. She didn’t have anything to say. This wasn’t her fight. “You were dead?” Cordelia extended her other hand to Madison.

Madison hesitated, glancing back at Zoe. “Do it.” All pairs of eyes landed on Madison. “She’ll See what happened to you. So we can keep it from happening again.” See. It was unfamiliar to Misty, the concept, but Cordelia had touched her and learned her name--and her powers. She knew Misty had brought Madison back to life. What else did she know? What else had she Seen?

It was a question she wanted to ask, but as Madison’s palm touched Cordelia’s, the blind woman gave a soft gasp. Her marbled eyes rolled backward, the scarred tissue over them twitching. Her hand tightened its grip on Misty’s arm, as if holding onto her for support, and when Madison withdrew, Cordelia swayed. Misty tried to steady her. “Fiona can’t know that you are here.” Her fingers dug into Misty’s upper arm. “Fiona is willing to kill to keep her powers. To keep the Supremacy. Which means she could see any one of you as a threat or a target. She feels safe as long as she believes Madison is dead.”

Madison arched an eyebrow. “So you just expect me to play possum indefinitely?”

“Fiona killed you once,” Zoe said. “She might try to do it again.”

“Who’s gonna stop her from killing another one of us?” Queenie asked.

They all exchanged glances before they looked at Misty. Misty shuffled her weight awkwardly from foot to foot. “No offense or anything, but… y’all got a problem of killing each other.” A little problem. Misty’s mouth curled downward at the corners. “I don’t want no part of it. They played burn the witch back home. I’m not coming here to get killed by my own kind.”

Zoe’s eyes were earnest. Goddammit. Misty tried to look away from her. “But you’ll help us, won’t you? If one of us gets hurt? Once we identify the next Supreme, we’ll be able to bring Fiona down, and it’ll be safe again. For all of us.” Misty looked at Cordelia. The pretty face of the older woman was all too close to hers. Her heart skipped a beat. She swallowed hard as Cordelia squeezed her upper arm. Oh, shucks. These women were the first people of her kind she had ever met. She couldn’t just abandon them. I can’t just abandon Cordelia. She had worked to save Cordelia’s life, risking her own in the process. Who was she if she ran away now? “Please, Misty?”

The sound of sirens pierced the air. Misty flinched. She shrugged out of Cordelia’s grasp. “I gotta go.” She could not be here when the police and firefighters showed up. The large, beautiful house would draw media attention, and she couldn’t risk her face appearing on the television, nor could she risk the odds of someone recognizing her and placing her face. The flashing red and blue lights reflected on the houses down the street, around the corner. Misty ducked her head and dashed away.

“Misty!” The first call of her name didn’t slow her. She threw herself into the thin copse of trees which served as a fence between the burning house and the rest of the neighborhood. “Misty, come back!” Hurling herself down into the ravine, she slid down the slope and landed in the mushy pit in its bottom. “Misty, wait!” Cordelia lost her footing at the ravine--how she had made it this far, Misty wasn’t sure--and tumbled down the slope.

Both of her hands closed around Misty’s wrists. Heart thundering in her chest, Misty resisted the urge to jerk away from her. She wouldn’t do that to Cordelia. “I ain’t going back.” Over the hill, the sound of men’s voices echoed. Footsteps crackled through the leaves in the thin copse of trees. The back of Misty’s teeth rattled with magic. “Hold onto me,” she said to Cordelia for the second time tonight. Cordelia threw her arms around Misty’s neck. The vibrations within her soul dragged them inward, through a vacuum, and with a loud crack, they crashed between the corn stalks of Misty’s garden.

The soft soil clung to her clothing. Misty stood, both of her hands on Cordelia’s waist. “You can transmute.” Cordelia held her at arm’s length. In the silvery moonlight filtering through the canopy of swamp trees, she looked no different than anyone else. The trees blocked the cold breeze, but a mist rose off of the water and chilled the air. “Where are we?”

Cordelia’s tangled hair hung around her face. Her tense muscles quivered beneath Misty’s touch. Misty reached around her to pull up the hood over her ears. “My home.” The trees creaked around them. The forest moaned with all of its secret life. The cicadas and crickets hummed in synchronization. The night birds performed their own song, special for Cordelia. Cordelia shivered again. “Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.” It wasn’t much warmer inside the shack, but Misty had blankets, and the walls deflected the wind. Cordelia held onto her arm. “It’s okay. I won’t let you fall.”

The shack was in the same condition they had left it--the broken tapes on the floor, the cold water in the metal basin stagnant where she had bathed Kyle. “Here.” She helped Cordelia sit on the bed and wrapped her up in some blankets. Taking woolly socks, she put them on Cordelia’s dirty feet one by one. In the darkness of the shack, she, too, was almost blind. She blinked up to Cordelia from below, looking at her silhouette. On the nightstand, a couple unlit candles rested. I’ve been going through matches like a little kid through cake. But she had burned the axe man. She knew she had done it--she had set the house aflame. Can I do it again?

“Try it.” She still held Cordelia’s feet in her lap. With the encouragement, Misty licked her lips and blinked back toward the candles. What had she done the first time? She had needed to protect Cordelia. She had needed to protect herself. Her hands trembled a little. A tiny flame flashed onto the wick of the candle. “Good job.” Misty stood to take the candle and light the rest of the room, the bare wicks all around the building which she used in the middle of the night. She had had a lantern, but it had broken, and she didn’t have any extra batteries for her flashlight, which she worked to preserve in case of an emergency. “What else can you do?”

“Hm?” Misty put the candle on the nightstand. “I fix dead things. That’s it.” She sat beside Cordelia on the bed. Cordelia scooted over to make room for her on the small mattress. Misty brushed the back of her hand against Cordelia’s absently.

To her surprise, Cordelia wrapped up their fingers together. “But you can start fires.” Misty shrugged. That was a new thing. “And move things.” That was a new thing, too. “And transmute.” She had done that when she met Zoe, but she hadn’t controlled it deliberately. “You’re an incredibly powerful witch, Misty.”

“Aw, nah, I bet tons of y’all are good at all that stuff.”

Cordelia’s eyebrows quirked, and she shook her head. “We’re not. It’s uncommon for a witch to exhibit more than one power. Maybe two in a time of crisis, but--you’ve performed four of the seven wonders.” Misty didn’t know what she meant. She didn’t ask. She hadn’t been so close to another woman in so long; she was busy drinking in Cordelia’s scent as she lay beside her on the bed. “The seven wonders are the test a witch must pass in order to rise to Supreme.”

Eyes widening, Misty shook her head. “Uh-uh. I don’t like this. I ain’t here to be nobody’s leader.” Cordelia folded their fingers together. Her skin was soft and smooth as flower petals. Misty swallowed hard. “I told you, Miss Cordelia. I don’t want any part of this. This ain’t my fight. And it ain’t got to be yours, either.”

Cordelia wasn’t shivering anymore. “Becoming the Supreme isn’t a choice… You can’t escape it by not wanting it.”

“You ain’t dragging me into this mess.” Cordelia opened her mouth, but Misty cut her off before she could speak, her heart thundering in her own ears. “Listen. I helped Zoe with Kyle. And I helped her with Madison. And I helped you--”

“You got into my room when no one else could. How did you do that?”

“I kicked the door down like a muggle.”

Silence followed, but a smile cracked across Cordelia’s face, and she began to laugh. Misty chuckled along with her, fluffing up the pillows to provide them for her. She knew nothing about her shack was comfortable for a city dweller, but she wanted to treat Cordelia the best that she could. “You saved me,” Cordelia whispered, and she put her cheek on the pillow as Misty put it down. She faced her in the dim light. Outside, the wind assailed the shack, whipping and howling, but Misty’s whole body felt like fire now coursed through her veins. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”

A quiet laugh tittered out of Misty. “Nah, don’t be silly. My grandma always told me there was nothing better for a damsel in distress than a dyke with an attitude.” Cordelia’s marbled blue eyes widened, and Misty realized a moment too late that her thoughts had crawled out onto her tongue. Blushing furiously, she hastened to amend her words. “You would’ve done the same--you did. You told him to let me go.”

A hand landed on her hot face. She flinched; she expected to be slapped. But Cordelia’s touch brought her no pain. “It scared me,” Cordelia admitted, “to think that someone could die for me because I’m not strong enough to protect myself… not anymore.” She mapped out Misty’s face with her hands. “I couldn’t live with myself if someone was hurt because of me.”

Misty smiled into Cordelia’s palm. She liked having her face touched. It was intimate. She hadn’t known something so sweet in longer than she could remember. “I just kept thinking that, if he killed me, at least I went down trying to protect a pretty lady.” In the dim candlelight, pink flushed across Cordelia’s cheeks, and Misty grinned at her success. “My daddy taught me how to rip a guy’s nuts off… but I never figured I’d need to fight an axe-wielding ghost. That was new. Hopefully won’t ever need to do it again.”

Stray fingers tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Cordelia pursed her lips. “Have you been out here ever since…?” She drifted off, and Misty nodded into her hand. “Alone?”

Misty shrugged. “Yeah. Safer that way.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t light the match.” Misty tried to forget what gasoline tasted like. She tried to forget what ash tasted like. The flames at the house were a stark reminder of the night she wanted, more than anything, to forget. To forget the pain, the absolute agony, of thrashing until all of the nerve endings in her body were dead and the heat of the flames had charred her lungs and melted her skin, until she finally gave way to death only to find herself dragged back into the shell of her corpse once again--to forget was all she wanted.

Cordelia shook her head. A quiver passed through her. Misty wondered how much of it she had Seen. Some things are supposed to be mine alone. “My job,” Cordelia said, “is to find witches and bring them to the academy to protect them. So they can learn who they are and how to control their powers.” Misty adjusted the blankets around Cordelia’s shoulders, trying to bring her warmth, but she knew she had done no good when a single tear slid down Cordelia’s cheek. She caught it on the pad of her thumb and wiped it away. “I was looking for you. Desperately. I knew where you were, the general location, but--I was too late.” She closed her eyes. As she did, more tears fell down her cheeks. Misty dabbed them away with her fingertips. “I lost you when it was my duty to protect you. And I am so, so sorry.”

Misty reached to hug Cordelia, wrapping her up tight and squeezing her. “Nah, Miss Cordelia… It ain’t your fault. You can’t hold the whole world on your shoulders, you know, chere.” Cordelia buried her face in her hair. Misty had lost count of how many times it had happened now--maybe just twice, maybe many more--but she adored it every time. She adored how Cordelia’s caramel-colored hair fell just so on her shoulders and how the movement exposed the freckled skin of her neck. She bowed her face down and pressed a kiss to the junction between Cordelia’s neck and shoulder. She’s so beautiful…

In her arms, Cordelia stiffened a little. Misty stiffened in turn, wondering if she had overstepped her bounds, but Cordelia whispered to her ear, “Thank you…” She swept Misty’s hair out of the way and kissed her neck in return. “I’m so glad you found us.”

Cordelia did not carry the same aura as the house or even the rest of the coven. Cordelia was different, warmer, more genuine, kinder. “I’m glad, too.” She combed her hand through Cordelia’s tangled hair. “Especially if nobody else was gonna bust you outta that room with the scary ghost guy.” Cordelia laughed into her neck. Misty closed her eyes and leaned down to kiss Cordelia’s neck again.

Warm hands caught her by the shoulders and pushed her away before her lips connected to her skin. Cordelia held her there, their faces inches apart. “Do it properly.” Cordelia’s lips puckered with uncertainty. Misty bowed forward and planted a tender, chaste kiss onto her mouth. A quiver passed through Cordelia’s body as they connected. Electricity pulled them together and held them fast, wrapping around them, through them.

Their magical signatures intertwined. Cordelia’s mouth opened, and Misty’s tongue wriggled inside. She grabbed Cordelia by the hips, squeezing the fat there. “Mm…” She moaned the soft sound into Cordelia’s mouth. This is crazy. I barely know her. Cordelia’s hands both dug their fingers into Misty’s hair and cradled her face there. Oh, god, I barely know her, and I love her already. Misty knew she had a heart made of cotton--it was soft and got shredded easily--but this caught her by surprise. She felt something for Cordelia she had never felt before. She supposed that she couldn’t risk her life for a woman without coming out the other side in love with her. “Sorry,” she mumbled into Cordelia’s lips. The kiss broke. “I promise I’m not really as weird as the inside of my head sounds.”

Cordelia laughed. “It’s okay.” She leaned forward and kissed Misty again. “I like you. I like you a lot.” Misty rolled onto her back and pulled Cordelia on top of her. Cordelia lay down on top of her. Her laugh was musical. “I shouldn’t feel this good. I just almost died in a house fire.”

Misty brushed Cordelia’s beautiful hair behind her ear. “You didn’t almost die. I wouldn’t have let that happen.” Cordelia kissed her hard. She tasted like smoke, wisping away from her in the blink of an eye, so Misty held on tighter, afraid Cordelia would try to disappear. The flame in the pit of her stomach licked downward. A knee landed between her legs and stayed there. Misty sucked in a tight gasp of air. “Cordelia--” The blind witch straddled her thigh. Misty gulped. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Misty was in no position to deny Cordelia anything. She had lived these last few weeks the loneliest she had ever been. But Cordelia was a normal woman--and, Misty had assumed until about three minutes ago, a straight woman. “I’m not… I’ve never been… I don’t want you to be…”

Quieting her with another soft kiss, Cordelia pulled back when her buffering lips had stilled. “I want this.” She shivered. “You saved my life. I want this to be here, with you.” Misty touched her face. Cordelia’s blind eyes blinked at the stimulus. “It’s the first time, since…” Cordelia swallowed hard.

Misty kissed her. “I understand.” She sat up and took the hem of the sweatshirt, lifting it off of Cordelia’s body and tossing it to the floor. Placing her bare hands on Cordelia’s warm, soft middle, she waited patiently for Cordelia to roam her torso with shaking fingers. “Take your time.” She played with the fabric of Cordelia’s black bra while Cordelia’s hands roamed the top of her T-shirt. Misty wore no bra. Through the thin fabric of the T-shirt, her nipples hardened into Cordelia’s palms.

Careful hands hooked in the bottom hem of her T-shirt and lifted it upward. Misty moved her arms and wriggled out of the shirt. She wiggled to free herself from the sweatpants, too; Zoe hadn’t given her any panties, so without the two garments, she was bare and prepared for Cordelia. Little twitches of uncertainty passed through Cordelia’s wrists, like she expected Misty’s skin to burn her at any moment. Misty waited patiently. Cordelia’s nose and mouth met the underside of her jaw and kissed there, dragging her lips along her pulse point and down her throat to her collarbones. Her hands followed the planes of Misty’s back to her shoulders. Misty lay down on her back to expose herself for Cordelia.

Both hands cupped her small breasts. She kissed the hollow of Misty’s throat. Then, she hesitated. “It’s alright.” Misty brushed Cordelia’s hair out of her face. “You can touch me--I got naked for a reason.”

A furious blush, much like that of a shamed teenager’s, crossed Cordelia’s face. “I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat. Her hands on Misty’s breasts were still. “I’ve never done this with a woman before.” Misty shuffled on the mattress. “Will you show me?”

“Of course, chere.” With gentle hands, Misty guided Cordelia to roll over onto her back and pushed her onto the pillows. “Relax.” Shaking hands found her hair and tangled there. “That’s right. You want me to stop, you give my hair a good snatch, okay? I’ll knock it off lickety split, whatever I’m doing.” She pressed her lips right to Cordelia’s pulse point. A shaking sound emerged from her. Misty stroked her hands upward and cupped Cordelia’s chest in her hands, rolling her rough thumbs over the other woman’s tender nipples. A sharp breath hitched in Cordelia’s chest. Misty gave her a tender squeeze before she slithered down her body. She landed on Cordelia’s breasts with lips planting sloppy kisses down her sternum.

Misty didn’t waste any time with teasing Cordelia, who quivered and flinched underneath her without anything extra. Her soft lips wrapped around nipple. She suckled gently upon her breast. A thin choking sound emerged from Cordelia’s throat. “That’s so… soft.” Her breath whistled in and out of her. Misty blew a cold stream of air across her wet nipple. It perked up, little bumps appearing all the way around it with creases, as well. She wriggled. Misty chuckled as she settled down in front of the other breast.

Misty took no liberties with Cordelia’s body. She didn’t want to mark Cordelia as hers; they had made no such promises yet. She didn’t dig in her teeth, and she left no bruises. Using only her lips, she teased the underside of one of Cordelia’s breasts, and then she moved down her abdomen, peppering kisses here and there. She planted a kiss on her navel. Hooking her fingers into Cordelia’s shorts, she peeled them off of her body and tossed them away.

The delicious smell of woman rose up to her. Misty kissed the inside of Cordelia’s thigh. Her skin was fuzzy there, above the knee where she didn’t try to shave. Her vulva had tiny cuts and tufts of stubble from where clumsy, blind hands had tried to shave it. Misty waited for some confirmation. Cordelia spread her legs and tugged her by her hair downward, her hips gesticulating vaguely for some kind of relief.

Burying her face into Cordelia’s moist vulva, Misty opened her mouth and made a thick, “Ahm,” sound in the back of her throat. Cordelia laughed aloud, relieving some of the nervous tension inside of her. She wriggled and moaned under Misty’s mouth. With the flat of her tongue, Misty stroked upward over Cordelia’s swollen clitoris. She trembled. Her thighs framed Misty’s face. “Mm…” Misty drew back just long enough to lick her lips before she dove into it again.

“Oh--Misty--” Cordelia arched her back. Her hips refused to still on the mattress. Her hands in Misty’s hair wanted to tighten up. She released her locks and grappled with her own breasts instead, a much safer location for them. “I--Oh, god…”

The sight of Cordelia’s hands on her breast stirred the fire for Misty. Watching her pleasure herself with her nipples pinched between her fingertips--that was a new drug, an addictive substance. As Cordelia’s clitoris grew firmer, more erect, Misty left it. Her lover cried out in frustration. Misty’s tongue slipped into her vagina, raking out all of the sour lubrication and dragging it up to her clitoris. “I can’t--Oh, god…” Cordelia’s vagina tightened visibly. Misty slipped her middle finger into her. “Oh!” It fit with ease. She curled it to stroke the sensitive, thick patch of nerves inside of her. “More--” As you wish. Misty hesitated before she curled a second finger into Cordelia. She’s only done this with men. She’s used to more. She provided the answer to her demand.

Cordelia’s hips lifted off of the bed into Misty’s mouth. “Yes!” Misty slid her fingers out and pushed them back in, massaging the insides of her vagina. “Yes!” Cordelia’s voice echoed in the small building, and undoubtedly in the trees surrounding, but there was no one to hear but the deer and the birds and the insects. “F-Faster!”

With the tip of her tongue, Misty worked faster at teasing the bulb of her clitoris, following the crus on either side back up to the sensitive nub. Cordelia almost thrashed with the intensity of her feelings. Her vagina contracted around Misty’s fingers. “Mmm!” The first flickering of her walls was like Morse code flitting back to her fingertips. Misty counted the number of squeezes. By the fifth, Cordelia’s thigh and stomach muscles began to relax, and Misty could slip her fingers free. She lingered to lick up all of the acidic fluid Cordelia had produced. Cordelia twitched, sensitive from her forceful orgasm.

Misty slid back up beside her and nuzzled her cheek with the tip of her nose. Cordelia turned her face and kissed Misty on the mouth. Her lower jaw chattered. “That was… That was really good…” She hiccuped. Misty brushed her hands across her pretty face. “Do you--Do you want me to--I might not know--”

Shushing her, Misty took one of her hands. “Just use your hands. Okay?” Cordelia’s arm shivered, but she nodded. Misty placed Cordelia’s hand on top of her bushy pubic mound, the ungroomed hair there growing wild and unruly. She guided Cordelia’s fingers to touch her just as she would touch herself. “Right there…” Misty’s leg muscles tightened as Cordelia’s finger found her clitoris and, with a featherlight touch, trailed up and down it, following the muscle structures and then going back to the bulb. Lying like that, beside Cordelia, face to face, she could taste the other woman’s breath on her tongue.

Cordelia kissed her. Misty wrapped an arm around Cordelia’s neck, holding her close. Cordelia’s mouth opened, leaving room for Misty’s tongue to wriggle inside, and she sucked on the intruding muscle with a thick purr building in the back of her throat. The sound of Cordelia’s sweet sound made all of the hair on the back of Misty’s neck stand up. She was crazy about this woman. She didn’t know how or why, but she wanted nothing more than to protect Cordelia for as long as she lived, with every breath in her body. Had she gone too long without human contact or affection? Or was it something else entirely?

“Sh…” Misty wondered if she was thinking too loudly as Cordelia shushed her. Nose burrowing into Misty’s hair, she inhaled deeply. Misty relished in each gentle touch Cordelia placed on her roughened, weatherworn body. The single finger Cordelia used on Misty’s clitoris moved a little faster. “Do you want more?”

Misty shook her head as she spread her legs. “N-No…” Speaking in complete words was a challenge. She had to work to clear her mind from the overwhelming pleasure crawling up her abdomen and down into her trembling thighs. “Ugh… Cordelia…” Her back wiggled. Her hips turned upward, toward Cordelia’s hand. “This is enough--” The twitching finger moved harder, faster. Misty’s breath hitched. It fanned heavier across Cordelia’s face. Heavy breaths met her in turn. “Ack!”

It had been so long since a woman had touched her like this, she had almost forgotten what it was like to taste another woman’s breath in the back of her throat, an intruder walking into her house and taking a seat on her couch. She never wanted Cordelia to get off of her couch. Spreading her legs further apart, she gazed at Cordelia’s beautiful face in the dim candlelight. Her marbled blue eyes reflected the yellow flames in strange patterns, not like the glossy surface to a regular person’s eyes. God, she’s so beautiful. Misty tangled her hands in her hair, pressing her face against Cordelia’s.

Eyelashes against her skin, Cordelia’s eyes flickered closed. Misty peppered kisses across the mutilated pink skin. Cordelia nuzzled upward into her sweet, gentle touches. Her finger moved faster across Misty’s clitoris. “Mm…” Closing her eyes, Misty tensed. She could feel the peak of her orgasm drawing nearer. Cordelia hooked her legs into Misty’s and held them apart. “Oh, fuck--” Misty’s hips began to move back and forth in a seesaw rhythm, driven by the strain teasing all over her body. “I’m--I’m really close,” she gasped to Cordelia, eyes flickering. “It’s right--right there--”

Her body began to tighten. The muscles in her lower back contracted and held fast. Her clitoris twitched. The full force of her orgasm washed over her, exploding stars behind her eyes as tingling rushed from her vagina down her trembling legs and up her spine. “Ugh… Mm…” She drew out a long, growling moan for Cordelia as the orgasm pushed through her.

The finger slipped downward from Misty’s clitoris toward the vestibule of her vagina. Misty tensed--she didn’t want to be penetrated, especially not now, after she had just fallen from the precipice of an orgasm and been left with all of her hypersensitive nerves. But Cordelia didn’t attempt to penetrate her. She scooped up the lubricant Misty had produced. Then, with a bright red face, she stuck her finger into her mouth. Misty chuckled, and she leaned forward to kiss her. “Thank you, chere.”

“Can we stay here?” Cordelia asked in a bare whisper. Blue eyes darted to her, confused by her question. “I know--I know we need to go back, but…”

Misty cupped her cheek in her hand. How desperately she wanted to say yes, to agree that Cordelia could stay out here with her. But the swamp was no place for a city person. How many days would Cordelia go before she was unhappy without a shower? Without warm food? Without cooked meat? “I’m taking you home tomorrow. Them girls need you. They look up to you, even if they don’t realize it. Somebody’s gotta protect them from Fiona.”

“I’ve never even been able to protect myself from Fiona.” Cordelia leaned into Misty’s hand. “Come with me,” she begged. “We need you. You may be the next Supreme--You may be the only one who can stop Fiona.”

Misty was not a fan of the whole Supreme business. She knew she had walked through that house and suffered from the overwhelming notion that she would die there. But Cordelia wanted her. How could she say no? “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, darling… I just want you to be safe.” Holding Cordelia in her arms, she wondered if she had ever guarded something so precious before in her life. She didn’t think so. She had found her tribe. It was Cordelia.

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evescole · 6 years

Text

Reunited // Peter Parker

word count: 1,975

pairing: best friend!peter parker x female!reader

warnings: yelling

summary: post the new move to new york, you discover a family secret that could change your life.

requested: @whydoestheworld (it won’t let me tag)

a/n: i’m sorry this took so long. my life is a mess and i’ve barely had time to write so it will take a bit to get the next part of the reputation series out. i’m super sorry for the waits. this is part two for new girl!

part one

masterlist

leave me stuff

In the past few months, you’ve grown closer to your friends at Midtown, especially Peter. The young teen had your attention the moment he walked into a room to the moment he left. You had told yourself time and time again not to get attached, especially now, because if your family got relocated again but you couldn’t help it. The Parker boy had you wrapped around his finger.

Fast forward even further, and the next thing you knew, you were walking into the tower that belong to none other than the Avengers. After begging restlessly, Peter finally caved into letting you come check out what he did with Mr. Stark. Of course, he had to fill you in on who the Avengers were, as well as everything Tony did, since you weren’t caught up.

Peter’s hand pressed down on your leg, pulling you back to reality. You looked up at him, confused at the gesture. He just smiled. “You were tapping your foot.” Looking away, you began to bite at your nails, trying to do anything to distract yourself. “Y/N, come on! I promise you’ll be fine. They’re all super nice people and you’ll fit in perfectly.”

You didn’t have time to freak out any longer as the elevator doors opened to your floor. Peter grabbed your hand, seeing as you weren’t moving any time soon, and pulled you out. He squeezed your palm lightly as he dragged you along.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., where’s Mr. Stark at?” Peter called through the empty room making you look around curiously.

“Mr. Stark is with Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers in his lab.”

Peter nodded, beginning to pull you in a different direction. “Sweet. Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

You remained silent as door after door passed by until you had reached an area all closed off by glass. Peter pushed the door open before nudging his head for you to come in. You buried your hands into the sleeves of your sweater, suddenly feeling underdressed to meet some of the most important people to New York City and the world beyond.

As Peter led you further into the lab, you could recognize three figures with their backs towards you. You saw the metal arm that you knew belong to Bucky Barnes, thanks to Peter. Speaking of which, the teen was bouncing happily towards the three individuals.

“Mr. Stark!”

All three turned to face you, caught off guard by the sudden entrance. Tony was first to react, setting down whatever device he had been working on. “Mr. Parker, I almost forgot you were coming today. And who do we have here?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, sir. I’m one of Peter’s friends.” You shook Tony’s hands, finally starting to calm down.

Tony nodded. “Pleasure. I’m sure you know these men next to me.”

You nodded, your eyes flickering towards both Bucky and Steve. “It’s an honor to meet you both.”

Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave you, making you a tad bit uncomfortable. You squirmed under his gaze, shifting towards Peter. Tony began going on and on about his new invention to the both of you but you toned him out. The more you thought about it, the more you could see the similarities. Your eyes, the way you tapped your fingers against your thighs, the hair. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were related.

“Are you guys staying for pizza? We’re celebrating a good day.” Tony continued to talk while leading you guys out of the lab.

Peter nodded. “Yeah, Mr. Stark, that’d be great. We’d love-”

“Actually, not to be rude, but I really need to get home.” You gave the men a sheepish smile.

Peter looked at you, confused. “Y/N, you set aside your whole day for this. What do you mean?”

You shook your head. “No, don’t worry. It was amazing to meet you all. If you’ll excuse me.” You gave them a nod before turning and walking away.

You tried to follow the path Peter brought you as best as you could. After making a few wrong turns, you finally made it outside. You didn’t hesitate to take off running towards your house, only one question burning in your mind.

Why did Bucky look so familiar?

As if the slamming of the door wasn’t obvious enough, your parents could tell you were upset by the stomping on the stairs. You didn’t wait for an invitation to slam the bedroom door open, both of your parents staring back at you.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, don’t you ever-”

“Is he alive?” You interrupted, not bothering to listen to your mother’s scolding. She froze in her spot, eyes glancing back at your dad. That was confirmation enough in your mind. “He is,” You mumbled, taking a step back.

Your father sighed, pushing his laptop away. “We didn’t say anything for a few reasons. By the time he was taken, you were too young to understand. When you could finally wrap your head around it, his name was broadcasted all across the planet for the awful actions he had completed. So, we got any evidence that he was our kid removed, kept you shielded from anything related to the Avengers and finally, we came here.”

You let out a breath of disbelief. “You left him? You’re his parents and you left him!” You stepped back in shock, suddenly disgusted by the revelation.

“Y/N, please. You’re taking this out of proportion. It’s really not that bad.” Your mother reached out to soothe you.

You shrugged her off, stepping further towards the door. “I can’t believe you would just leave him like that. He’s your kid.”

“And so are you!” Your father shouted back, anger getting the best of him. “We had to put you first over him, Y/N. We had to.”

You couldn’t find anything to argue back so you resulted to admitting defeat. You sighed and turned from the door, making sure to slam it harshly behind you. Your mind was running in every direction ever. You didn’t know what to do, what do think. You were questioning everything at this point.

Your brother was alive. Not only alive, but a super soldier who was with the Avengers. It blew your mind. Of course, you were nervous. You knew Bucky’s potential and you knew the things he had done but you pushed that aside. He was family, he is family and you weren’t about to let your parents stop you from getting to know him.

Deciding for yourself, you pulled your phone out to type a message to Peter.

Sorry about today. Found out something big. Think we can head back to the tower tomorrow?

As soon as you received a confirmation, you began to plot out the next day in your head. You were about to be reunited with your brother, properly, for the first time since you were a little kid. And you were absolutely excited.

Peter was definitely confused when you practically sprinted past him to heading into the Avengers Tower. He was even more confused when you shouted something about a brother over your shoulder as you ran. The hero caught up eventually, pulling your shoulders so you would slow down.

“What are you talking about?” He panted, eyes searching your face for some kind of emotion.

You shook your head. “Too much info, gotta run.” You took off again, pulling Peter by his wrist. He waved to the attendant at the front desk so they wouldn’t call security on you due to your excessive excitement.

You continued into the elevator, still ignoring Peter’s constant questions. He finally gave up as the doors opened, revealing the kitchen area. You could see Tony, Steve, a little bit of Natasha, but your eyes were on the one guy with a silver arm.

Pushing past Peter, you caught the attention of everyone in the room. Tony’s eyes moved to question the youngest hero who could only offer him a shrug as you continued walking towards Bucky. The room went silent as you slowed your pace, nearing the soldier. Bucky looked up as your shoes came into view.

“Y/N?” He whispered, eyes landing on your face.

You kneeled down in front of him, holding your palm out. Bucky watched as you unfolded your fingers to reveal two bracelets. One was blue and white strands with a few letters in between the woven in beads. The other, two purple and white strands braided with one solid silver heart in the middle.

Bucky looked from the bracelets to meet your tear filled eyes. He picked up the objects from your hand, turning the beads between his fingers. You closed your hand again, leaning your elbows on your knees as you watched him play with the bracelets.

“Bubba.” The name was almost silent from his lips as he read the beads. You nodded, remaining silent as you continued to watch him. He sighed, reaching over and grabbing your wrist gently. You let him, watching as he tied the homemade purple bracelet around your arm. His real hand shook as he pulled back, eyes not meeting yours. He shook his head slightly. “I thought you were gone. Figured someone killed you after the first sign of a connection.”

You let out a tearful laugh. “No, no. We’re okay. We’re all okay.” You looked down at your feet. “I didn’t know you were alive until yesterday. Went home and asked Mom and Dad and they told me everything. I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

His hand rested under your chin as he gently pushed it up, making you look at him. “I promised I’d come back to you, Bambi,” He whispered.

You nodded, pulling his hand from your face to set it on your leg. You took the other bracelet from his metal hand, tying it around his skin. He watched as you pulled your hands back just before wrapping him in a hug.

Bucky squeezed you tightly, relieved to know you were okay, you were alive. You were a constant thought in the back of his mind. He always wondered if his baby sister, his Bambi, was okay. All he wanted was to be the protective brother you deserved and he was finally getting that chance.

“So, anybody want to tell me what’s going on?” Tony’s voice broke the silence that had surrounded them for the past few minutes. You let go of your brother to face your friends, the happy smile never leaving your face.

“Let’s just say Y/N and I go back...way, way back.” Bucky kept the secretive tone, leading the group on.

Peter was the only one to piece everything together. Your words, the excitement you had as you practically sprinted there. “You two are related, aren’t you? That’s why you were yelling about a brother the whole way here.”

You nodded, still in disbelief over the whole thing. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

Natasha smiled at you before pulling Steve and Tony out, figuring you wanted to be surrounded by the people you were most comfortable with. You stood up, pulling Bucky with you.

“Mom and Dad would love to see you...if you’re up to it, that is?” You looked up at him, suddenly feeling tiny compared to his huge frame. He gave you a nervous look, prompting you to shake the hand you still had in your grasp. “Bubba, come on!” You used his nickname, trying to get him to fall for it.

He sighed, “Fine, fine. As long as you’ll be there.”

You stuck your pinky out towards him. “Promise?”

“Pinky,” He responded confidently, linking his pinky with yours.

And you laughed. You laughed and smiled and hugged him again because your big brother was back. He was back and you had Peter and the Avengers to thank for it all.

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pinebypine · 5 years

Text

Mind over Mabel

Tripet AU fiv. Mabel finds another amulet and gets up to some sexy fun.

“Blargh, root cellar, more like root smeller.” Mabel pinched her nose and swept the beam of her flashlight through the darkness ahead. Truth be told: Grunkle Stan’s cellar was pretty bare of actual roots. Over the years it had become something of a dumping ground for whatever junk didn’t have a proper place, but wasn’t quite ready to be sold or thrown out yet. There were stacks of slowly molding cardboard boxes, a couple of old bicycles, and even what appeared to be a car’s engine block.

She just needed to find the old tool box Stan was sure was down here, then she could get it to Soos and he could fix the cart. Mabel stalked slowly through the dank space, wary where she put her feet; this seemed like just the sort of place where all sorts of gross vermin would hang out. She peered carefully behind stacks and crouched to look under and old bedframe that was rusting in one corner.

Her quarry turned out to be in the farthest reached of the cellar, of course, mostly buried under a pile of damp lumber. Mabel tried to pull it out but wasn’t able to budge it with the weight on top of it. She sighed; she was either going to have to pull each of those chunks of wood of one by one or she was going to need help.

Something rattled in the darkness behind her, a clink of glass on metal. Mabel spun, sweeping her light over the piles of junk. She couldn’t see anything moving. It must have been something settling in one of the piles. As she turned back toward the cellar door, a faint glow caught the corner of her eye. She cast the flashlight beam in that direction, but couldn’t see anything. On a whim, she thumbed off the light and let herself fall into darkness.

High up on top of a stack of boxes, something was definitely giving off a pale aqua light. She had to turn the light back on to navigate over to it, but once she was close enough she could make out the strange light above her. It was too high to reach and Mabel really didn’t like the idea of climbing up that rickety stack. As she was considering her best course of action, there was another metallic clink and the light shifted jerkily. Mabel’s eyes widened as the source of the glow bounced a little and came over the edge of the boxtop it rested on, falling in a slow arc in front of her face.

Instinctively, she put up a hand and the little amulet fell into her palm. It felt warm against her skin and made little tingly waves run up her arm.

This seemed very familiar.

She had used something like this before, years ago. She could still picture the bodies going through the window, over the drop, and those terrifying frozen seconds before she’d snatched the bolo tie from the floor and used its power to stop three falling, struggling people. And then, she’d smashed it against a rock, hadn’t she? There was no way it could be here now.

She brought the dimly glowing amulet close to look closely at it. No, this was definitely not the same amulet she’d stolen from Gideon Gleeful and destroyed. This one still hung on a chain, had never been modified to act as the clasp for a bolo tie, and the layer of dust and grime on it was so heavy she couldn’t imagine it had been touched in decades. She closed her fist around the little charm and glanced back at the toolbox, still stubbornly stuck under the planks of wood.

“Well,” she said with a shrug, “it wasn’t the help I was expecting, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

*****

Ty sat on the thin cot in their little attic room and started the song from the top. She’d gotten so little time to practice this summer that the callouses she’d worked so hard to develop were already starting to soften. She plucked her way through the arpeggio of “Oh My Sweet” and then played the chords of “You and Me All Night” in double time. Had to make the most of this time when both of her siblings were occupied; it was impossible to get anything done with them around.

Her hands on autopilot, Ty closed her eyes and found herself thinking about Dipper as he was doing dishes this morning, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair still mussed from sleep. She remembered seeing Mabel walk closely behind him, her hand reaching out to brush along the small of his back in an intimate little touch. The painful twang of a discordant chord yanked her from her little fantasy. Ty cursed and readjusted her fingers, depressing all the right strings this time

Geeze, she thought, not even here and they’re still distracting me.

She leaned back against the attic wall and started to idly pick her way through “Come Back to Us” which was probably the only thing she’d ever written that she actually liked. Humming the vocal part along with her playing, she remembered that she really needed to finish writing the lyrics.

A feeling like a pair of lips teased at Ty’s earlobe, causing her to smile. That was the spot that Mabel always liked to nibble on and it drove Ty wild. She shifted on the bed, then her eyes shot open wide. She looked around; had there been someone else in the room? No, she was definitely alone.

She could have sworn someone had just been touching her. Ty shivered a little and put her guitar back in its case, resolving to spend a little less time alone.

*****

“What are you doing up there, sis?” Dipper called up.

Mabel was perched, cross legged, on the peak of the Mystery Shack’s roof. She giggle a little, but didn’t move. “I’m just communing with the universe, bro-ham; trying to open up my inner eye and all that junk.”

Dipper sighed. “Well are you planning on coming down and actually helping out around here today?”

“I already got that toolbox for Soos. What else does a girl gotta do around here?”

“Somebody needs to muck out Waddle’s pen and seeing as he’s your pig…”

Mabel groaned. “Fine, consider it done.”

After nearly a minute, she still hadn’t moved. Her brother tapped his foot impatiently. “Are you coming down to do it or what?”

“I said consider it done, Dipper. So just consider it done.”

He cast his arms up in frustration and trudged in the direction of the pig pen, resolving that he’d be stuck doing it himself. When he arrived though, the straw had already been cleared of droppings and respread. Waddle had his enormous face happily buried in a trough nearly overflowing with kitchen scraps and feed. Dipper scratched his head; he could have sworn it had looked awful just a little while ago.

As the walked back toward the house, he jumped suddenly; it felt like somebody had goosed him.

*****

Ty steadied herself on the towel rod, breath heavy on her lips. It was like a dozen hands were running up and down her body. She could feel them all over, hitting every sensitive patch of skin, prodding every pressure point she had. Either she was going mental or something deep into weird territory was going on here. Ty looked in the mirror and saw a few patches of greenish light flash and slither underneath the surface of her clothes.

A set of invisible fingers dug greedily into the flesh of her butt and an ephemeral mouth found one of her nipples. Ty reached up and stifled a moan behind a hand. She started to lose her balance again, her knees having gone completely wobbly, and with a little luck and guidance, she landed on the closed toilet lid.

Ty reached down toward her crotch, not sure what she was going to even do down there, but something seized around her wrist and yanked her hand away, pinning her arm against the nearby countertop. She watched as her skirt was pushed up around her hips and her panties pulled aside. She wasn’t even trying to close her legs, but pressure on her knees told her they were new being held apart. She felt exposed, vulnerable, even out of control, and as much as she liked it a big knot of fear was swelling in her stomach.

She pulled her hand away from her mouth and grit her teeth. The forces holding her were strong, far stronger than her. There was only one thing she could think of and it seemed like a really stupid idea. But as the sensation of real danger grew, it started to seem like the only one she had left.

“Six-pack O' Lope” she gasped breathlessly, then repeated it again more clearly.

Everything hung still for a moment, the invisible hands that had glided over her skin all stopped in their tracks. In rapid succession, each one disappeared, gone from a solid force that she could feel into a poof of nothingness without a trace. At last, her underwear was righted and her skirt draped back in a modest fashion. Then it felt like someone cupped her cheek in a soft hand and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Ty let out a long breath of relief. If the safeword had worked, then the source of all that weirdness wasn’t hard to work out.

*****

“Dipper Pines, I thought I might find you here.”

Dipper turned from pouring himself a cup of coffee in the shack’s little kitchen and felt his pulse quicken. “Wendy? I didn’t know you were back in town.”

The redhead shrugged. “I’m not really, just passing through on my way south. Thought I’d stop in at the ol’ shack and see how things were doing. I let myself in; hope that’s OK.”

Dipper grinned; he hadn’t seen Wendy in the flesh in years, just the occasional phone call or text since she went off to college. He realized with a start that his growth spurt two summer ago had given him a couple of inches on the girl who used to seem so tall to him. “Well, you’re timing is good. I’m just on break from your old job at the register.”

“Stan finally got away with paying even less people to work for him, eh?” Wendy brushed a long strand of fiery red hair behind her ear and leaned against the wall of the little kitchen.

Dipper shrugged. “With me, Soos, and the girls, we can pretty much handle the place. Grunkle Stan doesn’t get around so well anymore; I’m happy we can help.”

Wendy smiled at him. “That’s pretty cool of you, dude.”

Dipper glance around the otherwise empty kitchen; it felt like someone was staring at the back of his head. Something jostled his elbow, causing some of the coffee in his mug to slosh onto his pant leg. Dipper swore and grabbed a towel to dab at it.

“Say,” Wendy chuckled and gave him a mischievous grin, “how long do you think you could ditch the register for? Ya wanna grab something to eat at Greasy’s? It’s about all I have time for before I hit the road and I’d love to catch up.”

Dipper wrung the coffee soaked towel out over the sink and considered this. “You know what? I think this place will get along without me for an hour. Let me close up the gift shop and I’ll meet you outside.”

Wendy’s face split into a big smile and she headed out the front door. Dipper went into the shop, double checked the register was locked up tight, and flipped the open sign to closed. He figured he had better tell his sisters that he was heading out and went looking for them. They were both on the roof now.

"Hey girls!" He yelled up. "Wendy just showed up; she's passing through town."

No response.

Geez, he thought, they must be really meditating up there.

“Anyway, we’re going to go grab a bite to eat so I closed up; the shop was dead anyway.”

“Have fun.” Ty gave him a little wave.

He pulled on his old blue and white cap and headed toward Wendy’s pickup.

*****

“Can you believe that guy?” Mabel cast an arm at the cloud of dust that was settling back into the dirt road to the shack. “He’s stepping out on us!”

Ty took a deep breath and let her head slowly fall back until it rested against the back of Mabel’s. “Dip’s been over Wendy for an exceedingly long time, Mabes. I don’t think we’ve got anything to be worried about.”

Mabel’s lips tightened into a line. “I could’ve stopped them.”

“I suppose, but that’s doesn’t show much faith in Dipper, does it?”

The older triplet sighed. “Yea, you’re probably right, Ty.” She felt her sister’s hand reach back and grip her own.

“Thanks for stopping earlier, by the way.”

Mabel shrugged. “That’s how the system works; what else would I do?”

“Well, I still appreciate it.”Ty squeezed her sister’s fingers. “Think of it this way: if the Dipster is off misbehaving, then when he gets back he’ll deserve a little punishment, whereas if he’s a good boy and up to nothing untoward, he’ll deserve a little reward. Right?”

“I like the way your brain works, Ty-flyer.”

*****

It was edging toward sundown now and Dipper was feeling in a pretty good mood for just having had a pretty mediocre meal. He hopped from the truck’s cab and laughed. “Man, the look on that thing’s face when we pushed it into that tube. Still gets me.”

Wendy chuckled and got out as well. “That was a pretty wild time, dude”

He turned to the redheaded girl and gave her a grin. “It was really nice seeing you, Wendy.”

The start of a blush tinged her cheeks. “Yea, well, I’m sorry about saying all that junk about you and me and…” She trailed off. “You’re probably right; it’s not like we ever see each other.”

Dipper grabbed her around the shoulders and gave her a bear hug that lifted her boots off the ground. “No worries; it was kind of a nice having the tables turned like that.”

When he set her down she gave him a punch in the shoulder and started back towards the truck. “I’ll catch you later, Dip, and don’t hesitate to call if you wanna talk.”

He gave her a little wave and headed towards the shack’s front door, feeling very warm inside. As he approached, Ty was sitting on the front porch drinking a bottle of water, a satisfied smirk on her face.

“Hey there, Dip. How’d your date go?”

Dipper felt himself flush a little. “It wasn’t a date. At least it wasn’t supposed to be.”

His sister winked at him. “You’ve never been too good at reading a lady’s intentions. Mabel and I practically had to hit you over the head with a club.”

Dipper glanced around instinctively, looking for anyone who might overhear. Ty jumped up and grabbed his arm.

“Soos left already and Grunkle Stan took his hearing aids out and conked out in front the of the TV; so you can relax. Come on, Mabel has something to show you.”

She started to drag him around the back of the little complex of buildings. As they closed on it, Dipper saw the door to the old root cellar was wide open. The eldest Pines triplet stood there, a faint aqua light coming from a pendant at her throat, and the wickedest grin Dipper had ever seen across her face.

*****

“OK, OK. I give up; you’re the alpha triplet.”

The greenish glow that encircled Dipper’s body writhed and pulsed like a living thing. His hands were pinned together at the small of his back; his feet dangled a few feet from the old air mattress that lay on cellar floor.

Mabel smiled. “Told you I could get you to say it!” She planted her fists on her hips in a pose of victory.

Dipper bit down on his lower lip and groaned, the feeling of fifty pairs of hands rolling and stroking his body overcoming him. They were everywhere, running through his hair, stroking his things, running nails down his back, cupping, massaging, stroking him. He was suspended by them, held by them, completely immobile and helpless. He could feel Ty’s gaze from behind on him and hear her own pleasure on her lips.

“Fuck!” He cried. He felt so unprotected, laid bare before these two women who, at the moment, held every bit of power over him. “Are you gonna keep this up all day?”

Mabel faux pouted. “Does our good little boy think he deserves something special?” Dipper didn’t respond, his heavy breathes rasping in and out with little noises of pleasure. “What do you say, my lil’ Dip?”

“Please,” he gasped. “Please let me come.”

Mabel held a teasing hand to one ear, as if having trouble hearing.

Dipper relented “Please let me come, Lady Mabel the Alpha Triplet.”

She stepped forward and caused Dipper to float forward and angle down, bringing his head on level with hers. She dug her fingers into his sweat soaked hair and pulled him in for a deep, long kiss. Some part of the green glow intensified and a low noise came from Dipper’s throat. A moment later, he hung limply in the air, on the verge of passing out.

Mabel stared at him, points of green light glowing in her eyes, but made no move to let him down. Ty rose from her chair and moved to check on Dipper, but suddenly felt a band of force pin a wrist to a point in the air. Dipper raised his head, vision blurring and looked into his sister’s eyes. A chill ran through him, sobering him from his reverie; it was no longer Mabel looking back at him.

He tried his best anyway. “Sascrotch? Sascrotch, Mabel.”

There was a long pause, pregnant with terrible possibilities, before the light in Mabel’s eyes began to fade, and Dipper dropped slowly and gently to the air mattress. The moment he was safe on the ground, Mabel ripped the amulet from her neck and tossed it against a pile of junk where it clattered to a resting spot on the floor.

She sunk to her knees, face suddenly stricken. In a flash both her siblings were on her in a triplet embrace. Dipper ran his hand along her back and held her face against his shoulder as Ty squeezed them both around the middle and kissed Mabel’s bare shoulder.

It took them a little while to compose themselves. Mabel was the first to speak. “That was a terrible idea.” She smacked her head. “Stupid Mabel!”

Ty’s arm tightened around her sister’s shoulder. “You pulled out of it for Dip just like you did for me. That’s what safewords are for.”

Mabel shook her head. “There was a moment there when I really honestly didn’t want to stop; I didn’t care that he was done and called it. That thing,” she pointed accusingly at the amulet, “was janking with my brain. Pushing me.” She shuddered.

Dipper stepped over and picked up the little charm on its chain. He sighed. “It’s like the one Gideon Gleeful had. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised if it messes with the user’s brain.”

He tossed it to Ty, who plucked it out of the air and held it in front of Mabel. “Well, at least you resisted it before anything serious happened.” She kissed her sister’s cheek. “That took a lot of effort, I bet. Way to go, Mabes.”

Mabel gave her siblings an unconvinced smile.

Dipper picked up one of his clunky hiking boots in one hand. “I suppose that thing’s proven to be a bad idea to keep around. Do you want me to take care of it?”

The eldest triplet squared her shoulders and took the boot from her brother’s hand. “I destroyed the last one; I’ll do this one too.”

Ty dropped the amulet on the ground and Mabel slammed the heel of the boot down on it with all the force she could muster. A puff of iridescent green smoke disappeared into the air and there was a sound like a far off scream.

She sighed in relief, rose, and put an arm around her fellow triplets. “OK, we’re sticking to regular stuff like ropes and leather straps from now on.”

Dipper gave a sardonic salute/ “Anything you say, Alpha Triplet.” Then he wrinkled his nose and made a face.

Mabel winced. “Oh yea, I was keeping that at bay with the amulet. You’ll probably want to hold your nose as you get dressed.”

#pinecest #pinebypine #gftripletau

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snugglebuck · 7 years

Text

Moroz

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1767

Warnings: Mentions of torture, abuse, Hydra type stuff.

Notes: New series with this idea I’ve had for a while. Angsty Frozen lol. No but seriously I’m always cold so it’d be my superpower. ;) They’ll be more Bucky in the next part I just had to set some stuff up... Also the Russian is all from google translate so.... That’s that. It’s probably wrong? I don’t know. P.S. If you guys want to be tagged let me know? I see that’s a thing on tumblr now.. gotta get with the times.

It whistled. The wind. It felt like it was all around you, all encompassing. Gently caressing, fluttering the soft tendrils of your hair that laid against you skin, your bruised, blood stained skin. You had lost all feeling in your arms and legs, entirely numb due to dangling from the thick iron chains that hung from a rotting wooden beam. The only light was that which slipped through wooden cracks when the moon was not covered by dark cloud.

You were alone. Very alone. Your thoughts your only real company, which were misery at best. What you had been through, what they had done to you had warped your mind so much there was no going back. Pure darkness, insanity, an all-consuming vacuum was all you felt now. Not even felt, that word is too strong. Existed. The part of you left merely existed, nothing more.

You weren't sure how long you had been here like this, the fresh wind of the north brushing through you, past your bones. You had guessed at least three weeks, but the fog that consumed your mind now made it feel like months, even years at some moments.

They'd come by every couple days to check up on you, make sure you were still barely alive so they could continue with their torture. Some days, they'd release you from your chains and beat you. No sounds, no reason, just bruises. You'd pass out from the pain, malnutrition, blood loss. Then they'd pump you with enough drugs to keep you alive for another week and your mind spinning. You never saw their faces, they were covered by faceless black clothes. It made it feel more dreamlike.

Winter came, snow ice and all, and still you hung. Blood dropped from the grooves in your wrists from the chains, and as it would roll down your limbs it would eventually freeze there, painting a beautifully intricate design. Well below freezing, you were there, like a body in a freezer waiting to be buried.

One day they did that too.

You dropped, the chains fell, both collapsed on the frozen ground. They dragged you away from the wooden beams which had become your home, through piles of disturbed snow, what was left of wet blood leaving a telling trail.

Someone brought you to a hole, pitch black that had been dug deep into the cascading snow banks that night. Again, chains were wrapped around your wrists and feet. A gag threaded through your mouth and tied behind your thinning hair. You could see nothing, nor could you focus. You were so far gone at this point it didn't even matter. They had broken you a long time ago. Nothingness.

Solid ice tickled your dead translucent skin as they placed your body inside. Then a block of ice covered over the top, sealing you in. Silence. Finally at peace, the floor of ice cooling your skin, you drifted off into slumber, hopefully, to never wake up to this life again.

A large crack resounded throughout the small ice box. Your eyes flew open in shock. You glanced around, still feeling nothing, but as you looked at your skin all the bruises, cuts, and wounds were gone. You weren’t sure how long you had been on the ice or why you were there. Light from a flashlight flooded the crowded space, and you squinted your eyes, frightened, reaching out to knock the flashlight from the holders hand and grasped onto his wrist in the process. He screamed in agony, then silence. His body falling to the ground. Solid ice. Frozen solid. You felt no remorse, though, you still felt nothing. Maybe death was something that didn’t register with you anymore. Maybe you had come and gone, all that was left now was a ghost with ice running through their veins.

Glancing up you could hear voices coming from the dark.

“Da. Khorosho. Ona gotova.” Yes. Good. She’s ready.

“Soldat. Pora.” Soldier. It’s time.

A metal hand clasped around your arm and pulled you from your cave. You followed easily, void of your own thoughts at this point. Once you were outside of the ice, you glanced around at the dimly lit area. Flat plains of snow for miles. You must have been in a northern ocean somewhere that had completely frozen over.

The soldier jerked you to pay attention, still with a terrifying grip on your arm.

“Sedativnyy yeye.” Sedate her.

“Vyydi.” Move out.

Everything went dark again.

“Moroz, idi.” Frost, go.

You never thought anymore, didn’t know why either, just did things. It was like you were void, like a robot, just following actions based on commands. Feelings still were out the window too. All you could feel was that you existed, you were existing, nothing else. Every time they wiped your memory, this lack of feeling was even more evident, but they didn’t have to do it as much anymore. It was as if your brain had picked up muscle memory, and seemed to wipe out your actions once your mission was completed, and then you went back in your containment cell. Hydra was ecstatic when they realised they could use fewer resources.

Your hand took hold of the alley door handle, and you held it until it froze. Taking a knife from your belt, you held the blade as you smashed the now ice door handle with the knife handle. Depositing the blade back onto your belt, you pushed the now unlocked door open and stepped inside, looking around the screen lit room.

You were in some sort of laboratory, bottles of chemicals all over the walls, in cabinets, in freezers. You walked towards the freezers, knowing what you were looking for was inside as you had been briefed on your targets whereabouts. There were warnings all over the door stating that a medical suit was needed to enter because of the deathly cold temperatures. Whatever you were here for was important, and you’d know it when you see it.

You opened the door, leaving it open, so the cold started to seep out into the rest of the room. You still felt cold, generally were always cold, but you enjoyed it. Your most peaceful memory was being in the ice box, frozen, asleep, dead; however you want to put it. You couldn’t remember anything before that now.

You made your way to the very back of the freezer and opened up a keypad. Typing in the code, the door slide open, and inside was the bottle you were looking for. You picked it up, placing it in the special bag they had given you, and deposited the items in your backpack, exiting the freezer.

As you were about to leave the laboratory, a man in a lab coat crawled out from under a desk. Shivering, early symptoms of hypothermia present. He pointed a gun at you with his shaking hands.

Then he shot you, the bullet piercing the skin of your thigh. You dropped to the ground, thick blood started to seep from the wound, and you seethed until you placed your hand over the wound, freezing it over and letting the rest of your cells take over.

Your stare turned to the man as you rose to your feet again, almost walking normally and the wound disappearing before the man's eyes.

“Impossible.” The man stuttered as you walked toward him, taking the gun out of his hand and tossing it on one of the lab tables. You preferred giving slow deaths.

Your hand covered the man's mouth, ice filling his breath as you froze the air in his body, suffocating him by ice. You let his body drop to the ground, and now ringing alarms were going off. You had taken too long. Hydra would punish you for it.

“Poyekhali. Ty opozdal.” Let’s go. You’re late. The Winter Soldier spoke through his mask. He was your handler, one of the only ones who could touch you without freezing to death. You followed him out of the compound to his motorbike. He slides on, and you slide on behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he started up the bike and you sped off to the checkpoint to hand off your mission.

They were furious that someone had seen you. You were supposed to be a secret, not something Hydra had to worry about covering up. The ice was supposed to all be a mystery. Since the alarms had been activated, the follow up team couldn’t go in to clean up, wipe the cameras, and clear everything out. Not to mention the frozen solid scientist you had left on the floor.

You were now back in your cell after having received a few beatings. They didn’t really bother you though. They wouldn’t feed you for you mistake, which you understood, but your longing body did not. And when your body was hungry and wanting something, you got colder, and so did your surroundings. You couldn’t control it at those points. Ice was everywhere, plastered along the walls and across the door. Even your body was covered in a faint covering of frost, tingeing you on blue. You sat there, though, not caring. You didn’t know anything different.

The door jerked open, inside walked the Winter Soldier. He didn’t often visit unless it was for a mission. He too was covered in marks due to your failure to leave no traces.

“Vy dolzhny ostanovit'sya. Vy okhlazhdeniya bazu.” You must stop. You’re cooling the base.

You glanced at the soldier numbly, shrugging. You couldn’t control the frost when it got like this. It had a mind of its own.

“YA ne mogu.” I can’t. You replied.

“Zachem?” Why? He looked at you, moving closer.

“YA slishkom kholodno.” I’m too cold.

The soldier glanced towards the door, poking his head out to mumble in Russian something along the lines of ‘I’ll take care of it’ and closed the door, closing you both off from the rest of the base.

You expected him to beat you, sedate you, or somehow get you to pass out so you wouldn’t be thinking about your body temperature anymore. He surprised you when he sat down beside you and pulled your body towards him, his heat radiating into you like a bonfire. You didn’t know how to act, but the muscle memory from a past life had taken over as you snuggled into his grasp.

“Spat’.” Sleep.

You drifted off to that peaceful ice box once more, this time no longer cold, not knowing the next time you woke everything would be quite different again.

Tagging: @38leticia @elaacreditava @softwhispers @wildchild2707 @princeendymion @blueeyedboobear

#moroz #bucky x reader #the winter soldier x reader #captain america #the avengers #bucky barnes #james buchanon barnes #the winter soldier #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader

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another-writer · 7 years

Text

Morphine and Mountains

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: you love your sleep but you might just probably love Bucky Barnes more, so you’re willing to sacrifice it. Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day and there has to be a good reason he’s waking you up at two o’clock in the morning.

Word count: 2,510

Warnings: none, just your typical cavity-inducing fluff

You were abruptly woken from a dreamless sleep by a hand gently shaking your shoulder. You hummed shortly in response, one hand going to rub your eyes as they flickered open.

‘Baby, wake up,’ Bucky hushed, thumb stroking your cheek, coaxing you out of your slumber.

‘What’s s’wrong?’ you mumbled, face half-buried in your pillow. You huffed and turned onto your back, studying Bucky’s face for any indication of a nightmare.

Bucky was kneeling by your bed looking very much nightmare-less; you could barely see him, the only light source being the silvery moonlight peeking through the gap in your curtains, but he didn’t appear scared or shaken in the slightest.

You sighed. ‘The sun’s not even up, Barnes, why are we?’

Bucky chuckled and leaned down to kiss your forehead. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Doll.’

You paused and then counted the days in your head. The mission you had just come back from had messed with your sense of timing.

‘I know you’re allergic to roses,’ Bucky continued, ‘so I got you these … Valentine … orchids …’

You bit your lip and tried to stifle the giggle that slipped out at his words and looked at the black vase that sat on your bedside table from which several pale pink blossoms sprouted.

‘Buck, you shouldn’t have,’ you murmured, cheeks heating as they reddened.

You appreciated the sentiment momentarily and then glared at him half-seriously. ‘Is this one of those things where you’re waking me up at midnight to be all cute and stuff? Because the morphine’s making me drowsy so this isn’t going to turn out the same way it did on my birthday.’ Your hands ran through your hair, styling it subconsciously.

He smirked in response and ran his fingers with a feather-like touch over your knee, wrapped in gauze and supported by a brace, over your sweatpants. ‘Is it hurting?’

‘Not right now,’ you replied. ‘And as much as I love you, I’m exhausted.’

‘I know but I promise it’s worth it,’ Bucky insisted.

‘What are you talking about?’ Your eyes flickered to the clock on your bedside table. ‘Why are we awake at two a.m?’

Bucky was ushering you to sit up, one hand holding yours and the other going behind your back to help you. ‘You’ll see when we get there,’ he promised.

‘Bucky, I’m a mess right now,’ you groaned. ‘It’s early and I’m still injured and …’ You trailed off, losing yourself to Bucky’s argument made by his soft blue eyes. Dammit. You rolled your eyes. ‘I’ll get up if you kiss me,’ you offered.

Bucky frowned, scrunching his eyebrows together. ‘No, you’re gross in the morning,’ he argued childishly.

You scoffed, a hand going over your heart. ‘You’re gross in the morning.’

‘You make a compelling argument.’

‘You make an irritating human being.’

‘Doll,’ Bucky whined, dragging the nickname out, ‘it’s Valentine’s Day. It’s an entire twenty-four hours dedicated to our love and I wanna make it special.’

His words made you want to throw up with how cute they were and you knew that he knew that.

‘Well then,’ you replied, hand going through his hair as he nuzzled your neck, ‘by your logic … shouldn’t you be kissing me?’

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh against your neck and complied, tilting his head up and leaning close, stopping when he was barely a centimeter away from your lips. ‘I still think you’re gross,’ he whispered before molding his lips chastely against yours, muffling and silencing your laughter and sending waves of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. His arms wound themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to the warmth of his body, your hands cupping his neck as you kissed back.

You pulled away first, much too quickly for his liking, and you chuckled at the dazed look in his eyes as they fluttered open. ‘I think I should hold up my end of the deal,’ you smirked.

Bucky stood up and helped you swing your injured leg over the side of the bed, then bringing your black Converses from their place by your bedroom door and putting them on for you, tying up the laces and all. He held onto both of your hands and pulled you gently to your feet. He passed you your crutches, keeping one hand hovering by your lower back as he walked next to you out of your room and to the elevator.

‘Where are we going?’ you tried prodding.

‘You’ll see when we get there,’ Bucky replied simply. The man looked a little too smug, caught up in his excitement for whatever he had planned for you; you leaned against his chest, still slightly drowsy from the medication you were on and from being woken up so early.

Bucky lead you to a newly-polished black Audi Q7; the car was usually covered in mud and dirt from how much Bucky drove it around so a clean car, as simple the idea, was enough to alert you almost into full consciousness.

‘You can go back to sleep,’ Bucky said, climbing into the driver’s seat after helping you into yours and tucking the crutches safely away.

You could already feel how tired you were again as you nestled into the leather seat. ‘You sure?’

Bucky smiled at you, watching your eyes close easily and hands draw the sleeves of your back sweater over your fingers.

‘It’s a long drive,’ he replied softly. ‘I’ll wake you when we get there.’

When you woke up by your own accord, Bucky was still driving; one hand was on the wheel and the other was holding yours. It was still dark outside; the very beginnings of the sunrise were starting to peek through, preparing to take over. You could immediately tell that you were far from the city. The sky was clear, the stars freed from the shrouds of pollution and the near-full moon with free reign, overlooking the earth. Tall beech and red spruce trees reached up and brushed the sky, swaying slightly in the light wind.

‘Where’ve you taken me, Barnes?’ you mumbled, voice still thick with fatigue. Your knee was starting to ache.

‘We’re almost there,’ he replied, eyes searching the area in front of him. ‘Just gotta … find the right place.’ After several more minutes, pulled the car to a stop and turned the engine off.

‘Bucky?’ you murmured nervously, sitting straight in your seat and running your fingers though your hair.

‘Wait a sec,’ he said, jumping from his seat and jogging around the front of the car to open your door and help you out. ‘You can leave your crutches,’ he added, drawing your arm around his shoulders and his around your waist to help you walk.

‘Bucky Barnes Safety Inspector,’ you scolded teasingly, ‘how dare you.’

‘I know,’ he sighed self-deprecatingly. ‘Steve has corrupted me.’

You giggled, and looked around you. The front of the car had been facing a forest of bare and evergreen trees, shuddering in the cool winter breeze. Dirt paths had been ploughed through the ground, most likely by use of the area. Bucky walked with you around to the back of the car which overlooked one of the most breath-taking sights you had ever seen.

In the near distance, you could see a wide, winding river snake through the ground between several mountains of varying disordered sizes. The moonlight which was slowly fading, giving way to the approaching dawn, reflected on the still water like white torchlight over opaque glass. The stars seemed to be connected by arcs of sharp, thin light, scattered generously across the ink-blue sky. The mountains were solid shadow, almost pure black against the lighter background.

And then you realised where you were. These were the Adirondack Mountains. Bucky had driven for over four hours - for you.

You heard Bucky breathe a sigh of relief. ‘I thought were were gonna be late,’ he muttered.

‘Late for what?’

Bucky blushed and busied himself by turning to open the boot of the car. ‘To watch the sunrise,’ he replied, suddenly seeming shy.

You watched him, warmth spreading through your heart as the broad-chested, six-foot war hero shrunk to the shyness of a child; there was a hint of pride like he knew how much you loved him and this - and you did. Bucky Barnes was practically the personification of romantic.

You leaned slightly against him as he opened the boot; the back seats had been pushed down for more room and the floor had been cushioned with several blankets and what you recognised as the comforter from Bucky’s bed back in the compound. A dozen LED tealights were scattered around, nestled in the comforter. There was a pile of blankets and pillows (again from Bucky’s room) and a dark wicker picnic basket. You almost disintegrated from how cliche and cute the whole ordeal was.

‘Is this okay?’ Bucky asked quietly. ‘It’s kind of disgustingly cheesy, I know.’

‘Oh my God, I love you,’ you laughed, cupping his face and kissing his cheek.

Bucky snickered at your reaction. ‘I wanted to use real candles,’ he said, ‘but, y’know, fire hazard.’

You nodded mockingly. ‘Safety is the new sexy,’ you said wisely.

‘Damn straight,’ Bucky teased, shoving you much lighter than usual, still weary of your leg.

You let out a short laugh at him.

‘Okay, put your arms around me,’ Bucky prompted as he put his hands on your waist and lifted you with ease into the fort he had made. You shuffled back to lean against the back of the middle seats.

‘Y’know,’ Bucky started, climbing in after you and flicking the tealights on, ‘I’ve used a lot of different equipment, a lot of weaponry, I live with the man who’s the definition of futuristic technology and I have a metal arm but …’ Bucky turned the last light on and placed it back down, ‘I’ll never get over how awesome batteries are.’

You furrowed your brow and grinned almost confusedly at him. ‘What is wrong with you?’ you laughed, giggling harder when Bucky lightly wrestled you down so you were lying almost flat on your back.

‘Why’re you being so mean to me today?’ he scolded playfully.

‘You had batteries back in the twentieth century!’

‘Well yeah but now they’re all tiny and awesome.’

You doubled over, rubbing your face with your hands. ‘I literally hate you so much.’

‘Whatever, no you don’t,’ Bucky grinned as he sat up and pulled out a small glass bottle of your liquefied morphine from the basket. ‘You’re totally in love with me, you nerd.’

‘You wish, you loser,’ you scoffed.

‘You love me,’ Bucky taunted and passed you the bottle and the plastic spoon that had come with it. ‘You should take another dose,’ he said, the banter fading.

‘You really know how to please a girl, you know that?’ you smirked.

‘Yeah, I do,’ Bucky teased. ‘Doll, seriously, it’s been almost twelve hours since your last one and this is the only situation I’m ever gonna make you take a narcotic drug.’

‘Oh Bucky, talk medical to me,’ you breathed.

Bucky scoffed, eyes crinkling as he shook his head and smiled at you. ‘Yeah, okay, I think I hate you too.’

You chuckled and swallowed half a spoonful of the medication, grimacing at the bitter taste.

‘What else you got in the basket, Barnes?’

‘Er - only enough chocolate-covered strawberries to give us diabetes!’

You grinned and dropped the morphine back in the basket. ‘You’re the best.’

‘C’mere,’ Bucky murmured.

He held his arm out and you complied to the gesture, locking in place by resting your head on his abdomen and winding an arm around his waist. Bucky leaned forward, careful not to disturb the position you both were in, and drew a blanket across you both, tossing another one over you and then cuddling you closer to his chest. The man was a walking block of marble carved into the form of a perfect specimen; his chest was hard with muscle and nearly devastated with years of battle and torture but was warm and far from uncomfortable. His Vibranium arm lay on your back, metal digits brushing soft haphazard shapes near your spine. Your free hand fiddled with the fingers of his, brushing your thumb along his palm.

‘You okay?’ Bucky murmured.

You leaned further into his chest, finding it impossible to put it all into words. Throughout your relationship, the man spoiled you with dinner reservations, picnics on the balcony of the tower, midnight drives or walks after sunset. Small moments, experiences, memories. You figured this year, this particular holiday clashing with your injuries would mean that nothing really would happen. Plus you were spending a lot of your time in a morphine-induced, drowsy, somnolent state And yet, here you were.

‘Yeah,’ you hummed. ‘I can’t believe you did this for me.’

‘Was nothing,’ Bucky replied, sounding almost bashful.

‘You woke up at two in the morning to drive me out for four hours,’ you scoffed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. ‘And this isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this. You’re kind of amazing, Barnes.’

Bucky smirked and nodded slowly. ‘I’m pretty awesome,’ he said, feigning seriousness. ‘I mean …’ His eyes searched around, unable to maintain eye contact with you in his state of bashfulness. ‘In all honesty, I sort of thought I grew out of stuff like this after everything that happened. But … when I met you and started going out with you I realised I … wanted this moment with you and I wanted it all the time.’

You bit your lip and your heart practically swelled. ‘Well, I love it here,’ you told him matter-of-factly but unable to fully stifle your smile, ‘and I’m very lucky to have you, and I love you.’

The sky began to burn with the oncoming sun, a brilliant layer of orange and yellow lighting the sky into a pale blue that nearly rivaled the colour of Bucky’s eyes. A white light became brighter and brighter with every second from the base of the furthest mountain.

Bucky smiled softly at you, eyes brightening like they always did whenever you told him you loved him. Like he was almost surprised you did, like he didn’t expect to hear you say it.

‘I love you too,’ he breathed, lifting your hand that rested on his abdomen and pressing several kisses across your knuckles. ‘And I really want you to know that I do. So much, I couldn’t put it into words.’

The morning breeze, usually like sharp ice against your skin, was barricaded away by the plush blankets Bucky had surrounded you both with; your legs were carefully entangled with his and his fingers were still drawing circles in your back, lulling you into a peaceful state of mind where time seemed to stand still. You could practically feel Bucky’s love for you in your bones.

You smiled gently and lay there with him, holding him.

‘I know.’

Masterlist

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #marvel #sebastian stan #another piece of writing #valentines #valentines day

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