Made a thread of some of my favorite fics ive written on twitter but nothing i post ever gets seen over there so i'm doing it here too because i can
My fave fics ive written since getting into Hermitcraft at the start of s10 in no particular order <3
I Love You, You Love (The Other) Me
my first Scarian fic, hotguy Cuteguy love-square superhero au
55k words, completed!
Remember Again (and again and again)
Scarian again, reincarnation au where Grian remembers but Scar does not feat. My own diy Watcher lore
29k words, completed!
What is Scar Goodtimes?
One for the mumscarian fans out there, one of my favorites because it was a silly, self indulgent birthday gift to myself
Grumbo sees Scar across the bar and really dig his vibe (aka his blood for a thirsty mumbo)
7.4k words, oneshot!
of Witches and Elves
My fantasy au series! Containing a completed 14k word Scarian fic AND the 5+1 Gempearl fic i am currently writing and obsessed with because its about time i, a lesbian, actually write a yuri focused fic /silly
Tropes: domestic bliss, fingering (f!receiving), PiV, creampie (wrap it before you tap it folks), reader is still an emotional mess but finally accepting things, Joost is still adorable (and horny)
Your happiness didn’t, in fact, last long. The night before, you had fallen asleep curled against Joost, wrapped in a warmth you hadn’t felt in forever. Morning, however, came with a rude awakening. You were the first to open your eyes, and the moment you became aware of Joost’s long, gangly limbs draped around you—his messy hair tickling your forehead, his breathing slow and steady—your heart twisted painfully. The peace that soothed you yesterday now made you more anxious than ever.
Without Joost awake to ground you with his gentle and endless optimism, your thoughts were spiralling out of control. Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them, blurring your vision. You hated how emotional you were, especially with such an amazing, handsome person lying next to you, but you couldn’t hold it all in. What began as a simple act of kindness towards a stranger had become something far deeper… and more dangerous. You were falling for him. The walls around your heart that you’d spent years building were crumbling down brick by brick. You almost couldn’t believe it. Despite years of isolation, you were actually falling in love—and the fact that you had so much to lose now terrified you to the core.
“What’s wrong, love?” Your mind was clouded in panic but Joost’s sleepy voice broke right through all of the noise. He rubbed his eyes, immediately frowning when he saw your tears. He sat up and pulled you into a warm embrace without hesitation.
“Ah, I’m so sorry.” You choked out, blinking rapidly in a desperate attempt to rein in your tears. “I don’t want to ruin the mood, I just…” You couldn’t meet his eyes, his kindness made you feel too exposed. Instead, you leaned into his palm as you sobbed, frustrated by your inability to articulate the storm inside you.
“Shh, it’s okay...” Joost whispered, rubbing slow circles on your back. “Just breathe. I’m right here.” You clung to him, burying your face into crook of his neck, your tears immediately dampening his skin. Joost stroked your hair gently as he comforted you. “I’m here for you, no matter what.” He murmured, offering reassurance without judgment. “Cry as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
Yet the little devil on your shoulder made you doubt him.
“W‑won’t you, though?” You hiccuped, your voice cracking. “I can’t keep you here forever, and the outside world, I…”
“Oh, darling…” The blond interrupted you softly, tutting his tongue. “I know I can’t stay here forever. And yes, the world can be unpredictable, but I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together. We’ll make it work.”
“And I want that too, more than anything.” You whispered, lifting your tear‑stained face to him. Unlike you, he sounded so sure… and you wanted nothing more than to believe him. “But… I’m a witch living in the middle of the woods. I tried to make it out there, in the ‘real world’. I love the outside world—but it doesn’t seem to love me back.”
"I'm so sorry, love," Joost’s brows dipped lower in concentration, not planning on letting you go any time soon. In fact, he only tightened his hold on your body – it was as if he wanted to protect you from the world that only seemed to reject you. "This isn't fair. You deserve to be accepted and loved for who you are." He spoke with fondness and conviction. "But please believe me when I say that I'm not like the rest of the world. I care about you.”
“I know you do.” You paused to breathe, wondering what you’d done to deserve all this love and care from him. Only a few hours ago he was just a stranger, and now... “I had to build an entire fake life story to tell when I go out: a job, hobbies, a backstory, everything. But it only holds up for too long. If I let anyone too close they’ll see right through it. I can never tell the whole truth out of self-preservation. With you it’s different, because I showed you everything right away, but…”
You trailed off and shook your head. Joost was listening intently to your words. He understood the burden you carried, the weight of having to hide your true self from the world just to be accepted.
“Being different is hard.” He inhaled after a quick pause. “Pretending is even harder. But you've been strong, and you've managed to navigate this world on your own. That’s incredible and I’m really proud of you for that." Joost tilted his head down to take a good look at you as his expression turned more serious again. "But you don't have to do this alone anymore.”
“I don’t know if I deserve that.” You exhaled, failing miserably to keep your voice steady. “I really like you and I don’t ever want this to end. But if we were together…” You trailed off again, having to deliver the harsh truth making your heart feel heavy as lead. “You could never tell anyone who I really am. Not even the people you love. Not unless I say it’s safe and... that’s not fair to you or your loved ones. So where does that leave us?”
Joost fell quiet, deep in thought.
“You’re right.” He said eventually, still ever so gentle and genuine. “I could never lie to someone I care about… and I don’t want you to feel unsafe. But I refuse to believe this is the end for us.”
“Me too.” You sighed, your arms lightly squeezing Joost’s body. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t want to lose you either.” The blond replied, tenderly brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. “What if we take things one step at a time? We don't have to rush into anything, or make any big decisions right now. Let's just enjoy our time together, and see where it takes us." Your eyes were still a little clouded with tears as you studied his face, but you did agree with a little smile.
“That sounds perfect. Especially so early in the morning.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Joost laughed quietly with you, the tension easing from his shoulders. You also relaxed into his touch, the conversation and the warmth of his embrace finally calming your racing thoughts. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you like a fuzzy blanket. Just for a moment, the world around you slowed down, and it was just the two of you: strangers brought together by chance and a bit of magic. You were not quite lovers yet, but it was more than a possibility at this point.
“How are you feeling, by the way? Is your ankle alright?” You broke the silence with a change of topic, shifting to get even cozier.
“I’m alright.” Joost shrugged, flashing you a warm smile. “A bit tired, but okay.”
“Wonderful.” You beamed at him, genuinely happy for his improved state. “I’ll check your bandages soon. But first… breakfast?”
At that point you both were starting to get hungry, your bodies reminding you of their basic needs after a good night’s sleep. A bit of brainstorming later you settled on making waffles, even if it meant leaving the comfort of the bed. Joost’s face lit up at the idea of food and you couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm. You often found yourself enamoured by his natural and effortless cuteness, and moments like these only reinforced those feelings in you.
The house was bathing in a quiet sunrise glow as you slipped out of bed, the golden rays filtering through the curtains. The distant swooshing of trees and birdsong could be heard even through the closed windows, providing the perfect background noise for a slow morning like this. Joost followed you to the kitchen, his gait already looking much healthier and more stable, not even needing to rely on you for support. Despite feeling much better, you insisted that he sat down and propped up his leg and you’d prepare the waffles yourself – you didn’t want to risk putting too much pressure on his injuries after all. You started to prepare everything for your meal and kept Joost talking, making idle but domestic chatter to keep both of you busy.
As you moved, reaching into cupboard after cupboard and the fridge, Joost couldn’t tear his gaze away from your form: how short your shorts were, how form fitting your top was and how deep its neckline was. He watched you intently as you prepared the waffles, his eyes taking in your every movement. He blushed deeply once he realised just how obviously he’d been ogling you, his heart rate speeding up at the sight.
"You know, love, you're making it very difficult to just sit here and wait. You look absolutely stunning in those shorts and that top." He admitted, fidgeting a bit in his seat.
“Oh this?” You glanced down at your attire and shrugged. To you, these were regular old clothes, which now even sported patches of flour on your midsection. “Thank you. It’s just random pyjamas for warmer months.” You chuckled, pouring the batter into the waffle iron now.
"Yes, those." Joost emphasised, as if to playfully scold you for downplaying how gorgeous you looked. "Random or not, they look really good on you." The blond watched you pour the batter into the waffle iron, his eyes darting back and forth between the food and your body. Even the way the flour sat on your top was hot to him, making it even harder to focus on anything other than you. Meanwhile you scooped out the waffles that were ready and made the next batch. For the first time, probably ever in your life, you didn’t mind a man checking you out so shamelessly.
“You know, I’m glad that you appreciate the view so much.” You grinned, also putting on a jug of coffee to brew while the rest of the waffles were baking. “But you need to tend to your base hunger first before indulging in other types of, er... delicacies, don’t you think?”
“Heh, you’re right, love.” Joost blinked quickly and chuckled, realising that he’d been caught staring. “I’ll do my best. But just so we're clear, your delicacies are still very much on my mind.” He added with a playful wink.
“Well, since we’re being so honest with each other, your delicacies are on my mind as well.” You grinned, returning the blond’s cheeky gesture as you settled at the table, plating everything nicely.
You stole a raspberry from the top of your own waffles before officially digging in, unable to resist the temptation that fresh fruit offered. Then, as both Joost and you were eating, you continued to make casual chit-chat, temporarily distracting yourselves from everything else going on. As you were talking, you noticed that you kept craving to have this level of intimacy and domesticity in your life, especially with Joost. It all came so easily and naturally with him, as if you two were meant for each other and the universe finally let you meet. You couldn’t bask in this sense of loving and belonging for too long, though. A small streak of syrup dripping down Joost’s chin distracted you, the endearing sight making you smile.
“Oh, you have syrup on you… um, here…” You reached a careful hand towards his face, scooping up the sticky substance with your finger.
"Oh, thank you." Your action made Joost uncharacteristically shy, his eyes following your hand as his cheeks reddened.
“Of course.” You shrugged, deciding to just lick the syrup off your finger. You didn’t even notice how suggestive the gesture ended up being until you saw Joost’s face. His eyes bulged out as he stared at you, looking like a deer in the headlights, the blush on his cheeks deepening.
"I… well, I might just have to lick some syrup off of you, too." He commented, quickly recovering from his flustered state. It was adorable how nonchalant he tried to be after it seemed like he stopped breathing for a second.
“Oh, do you promise?” You challenged, failing to suppress a smirk as you glanced over at him.
"Oh, I do promise, love.” Joost waggled his brows at you teasingly, but the way he eyed you right after was anything but innocent as he took another bite of his waffle.
“Alright.” Your grin widened, a sudden idea making you giddy, but you kept it to yourself until the end of breakfast.
Once you were both done eating, you peered at the bottle of syrup, the lid still open. When Joost was no longer distracted by anything, you took it as the perfect opportunity to carry out your plan. You quickly grabbed the bottle, squirting some of that sweet liquid gold all over your chest.
“Oh nooo, how could this happen?” You laughed, your antics momentarily leaving Joost speechless, then he let out a loud giggle, his eyes unabashedly following the trails of syrup down your breasts.
"Well, love, you seem to have gotten yourself into a little predicament." The way he tilted his head and grinned almost made him puppy-like before his gaze shifted into something more carnal. "Let me take care of that for you." He stood from his chair, making his way around the table towards you. You had to bite your lip in excitement as you watched him approach, your pulse already quickening.
“I did, didn’t I? Well, I’m so lucky that I have such a lovely knight in shining armour, always willing to help me.” Joost grinned at your words, taking his sweet time to feast on the sight of you covered in syrup.
"Yes, and it's my duty as a knight to be there for my damsel in distress." He said, kneeling down in front of you. "And I've never been more eager to carry out my knightly duties." He lifted both of your hands, pressing a few warm kisses on them before moving on to massage your thighs. Then, he wasted no more time, leaning in to nip at your collarbone, licking and sucking at the syrup on your skin.
“Mmm, you are?” Your skin prickled as his tongue made contact with it, your eyes immediately closing and your back arching into his touch. Joost kissed up your neck to your jawline, his tongue dancing across the curved bone and lapping up the sweet syrup.
"Oh, absolutely." He breathed against your neck as he moved back down, placing a trail of soft kisses down your chest, making sure to get every last drop of syrup. His tongue flicked over your skin as his hands held onto your hips, nudging you closer. You didn’t need to be told twice. You pressed up against him almost impatiently, the feeling of the warm and firm touch of his hands shooting straight to your core. Your neck and chest turned a deep shade of pink from his actions. Joost hummed in appreciation, licking and sucking at your skin, his tongue leisurely drawing circles on such sensitive areas of your body, making sure to discover every last inch. He placed small kisses along the valleys of your chest, working on making the remaining syrup disappear.
"You taste so good." He hummed as he moved his mouth lower down your chest, eager to lap up all of the sweet nectar. The straps of your top fell off your shoulders as he did so, now sitting very loosely on your chest and barely covering your breasts.
“I do or the syrup?” You joked, breathing slightly laboured from the way Joost kissed you. He stopped and pulled away briefly, his eyes twinkling with desire and appreciation as he looked up at you.
"You." He said firmly, giving your thighs another squeeze to drive his point across. "Definitely you." Then his hands moved to your shoulders, gently pushing the straps of your top down even further, revealing more of your chest. "But this is helping."
The blond smirked as he leaned back in, his mouth moving to lavish your exposed skin with smooches and licks. You gasped as your breasts were completely unclothed now, your nipples hard at the touch of his lips and the cool air they were exposed to. Joost's eyes flickered back up to meet yours as he kept kissing, licking and suckling at your nipples, the underside of your breasts and the valley between them, making sure to explore every little crevice, his moustache tickling you ever so slightly.
“Think it’s time to move back to the bedroom, love…” Joost purred against your chest, but not making much effort to pull away just yet.
“Yeah, we probably should.” You chuckled, eyes darting down to Joost, feeling the heat in your body only rise from the way he looked at you.
You stood, pushing away from the dining table and taking Joost’s hand, gently leading him back into the bedroom. His eyes were drinking in your form as you leaned back on the bed, watching your every move with reverence and want.
"You're so beautiful." He sat next to you, his arms instantly shooting forward to pull you onto his lap.
“So are you, love.” You grinned against his lips, your arms snaking around his shoulders as you straddled his lap, kissing him hungrily.
Joost’s soft moan vibrated against your mouth, his grip on you tight as he deepened the kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, tangling with your own passionately. He couldn't get enough of you, almost devouring you as his hands roamed your body expertly. You hummed contently as the taste of him mixed with the maple syrup on your tongue, the combination absolutely divine. You gradually started tugging his shirt up and Joost helped you readily, breaking away from you only to pull his top over his head. Once his chest was bare, your hands rested on the lush blond hairs as you kissed, Joost’s fingertips tracing over your spine.
Your own top had slid down to your hips at this point, your upper body completely naked for him as you ravaged his lips, your hands appreciating the valleys and dimples on his front and back. Joost groaned hungrily into the kiss, moving downwards, his thumbs sliding over the soft curve of your waist. His lips danced across your jawline, nibbling at your skin as his hands kneaded your flesh, almost like a cat, and it made you weak in your knees. You moaned at his touch, pressing your body as close to his as possible and tilted your head back, exposing your neck for him even more. Joost took the opportunity and latched onto you, his teeth nipping at your skin, attacking your pulse point with attention. He kissed and licked his way up to your earlobe, biting it gently before whispering to you, his voice low and husky.
"You're so perfect, love. So beautiful and perfect." He said, his voice almost trembling in devotion and if he hadn’t held you so tight, you definitely would’ve fainted.
“You too, darling, holy…” Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, while your hands didn’t know where to reach anymore, you just loved touching him so much.
Joost groaned in response, the sensation sending shivers down his spine. He kissed his way back to your neck and collarbone before reaching your breasts again. Every time his lips touched your skin, your body buzzed with heat and anticipation. Joost paused for another second, just to take in the sight of you again, hot and bothered, all thanks to him. Your blush spread from ear-to-ear, the way he looked at you still leaving you speechless and shy. You placed a hand on the back of his head, fingers tangling into silky blond tufts as you rested your forehead against his until your lips met once again.
“God, I want you so bad…” Joost whispered between kisses before he pushed you back onto the bed, his body moving on top of yours as he pinned you beneath him.
You watched hungrily as he positioned himself on top of you, your arousal only growing. He was so much larger than you were and you haven’t really taken the time to observe that up to now. Joost couldn't resist you, leaning down and capturing your lips in another heated kiss, his weight pressing down on you. Your tongue danced with his again, your hand staying on the nape of his neck, shamelessly and needily rutting your hips against his, eager to feel more of him. Joost groaned against your lips, his bulge prominent as he rubbed back into your movements. He let out a desperate little whine, his cock twitching when he felt just how thin the fabrics separating you were… especially since you wore nothing underneath those tiny shorts.
"Are you wearing anything under these shorts, love?" He grinned, his hands already fiddling with the waistband of your pants.
“Why don’t you find out for yourself, handsome?” You challenged him with a cheeky grin, still breathless from your little makeout session.
"Now that's an offer I can't refuse." Joost’s smirk widened as he toyed with the fabric for a moment, teasingly brushing his fingers over your folds and gasping at how wet you already were.
It wasn’t enough for him, though. He needed to feel more. His fingers slid past the waistband of your shorts and straight to your folds, his thumb and middle finger scooping up some of your wetness before they began circling your clit. You moaned, gripping onto his shoulders as you tilted your head back, your eyes snapping closed as he pleased you. Such an evil man, this one. Your body felt like it was made of butter and melting under his touch. Joost kept his movements slow and steady, but changed tactics when he felt your wetness grow. He kept his thumb on your clit while slipping his middle and pointing fingers inside you, both of you moaning out at the sensation. Your back arched off the bed as you clenched around the soft and thick digits inside you, Joost murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. The blond’s fingers moved easily thanks to your arousal, your body needily pushing into his every move.
“Joost… please…” You pleaded with him between gasps, your hand still tugging gently at his platinum locks.
"Please what, love?" He teased, his fingers dipping into you with higher intensity now, his other hand resting on your inner thigh.
“Mmmf, please… I need you…” You whined, biting your lip as you looked at him, pupils blown wide with lust.
"But what do you want me to do, love? Be specific." Joost gave you a mischievous smile in response and you breathed out in frustration. If you weren’t so needy and completely at his mercy right now, you would’ve smacked him for his smartassness, but… this man knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving you wild.
“Please, Joost. I need you inside me.” You said as you slammed your hips up as much as you could, clenching around him.
Joost just chuckled, reluctantly pulling out. He brought his hand up to his mouth, tasting you off his fingers and moaning as if he was still licking up syrup. Then he decided to gently flip you on your stomach, the sudden action making your breath hitch. You grinned as your face pressed into the pillow beneath you, feeling his giant hands kneading your rear as he straddled you again. You let out another needy little whimper when you felt his tip press against your entrance and had to hold onto the sheets as he started pushing in. Your reactions briefly made Joost stop and he checked to make sure that you were okay to continue. You closed your eyes, panting softly and moaning more as he gradually slid his entire length inside you. You huffed out, a shaky whimper escaping your lips as you felt his weight on top of you once again, giving you a bit more time to adjust before he started moving.
Joost set a slow but firm pace to start. He pulled out of you almost completely multiple times before dipping back in until he was sheathed fully inside you, the sensation almost making you see stars. You felt him all around and inside you: his cock, his scent, his weight pressing down on you, the warmth of his body - it was almost too much for you. Then he also placed his hands on top of yours, your fingers lacing together in an almost romantic gesture and you were just gone. Joost leaned in to kiss your shoulder, his lips lingering there as he moved with you. The magic of the moment never faded even as he picked up his pace and his thrusts turned more shallow. You moaned louder as the pleasure intensified, the impact of his thrusts making your rear jiggle each time. Your mind turned so foggy that you couldn’t get your words out to warn Joost about your impending climax.
"Shh, love, it's okay." Joost whispered, his forehead resting on your shoulder, panting heavily against your skin. "Let go, love." His fingers left soft prints along your skin from the way he was holding onto you, his hips meeting yours with growing force. You whined and whimpered, pressing your face harder into the pillow as the pleasure rose dangerously quickly. Something about not being able to move that much, him being able to penetrate so deeply and fill you out each time did it for you. You let go with a shaky gasp and moan, gripping Joost’s hand like a lifeline.
"That's it, love. So good for me." Joost cooed, his voice shaking with delight, the feeling of you squeezing his length driving him over the edge as well. He leaned down and held you tightly against him, his body still buzzing with the intensity of his release. You tilted your head to the side, your face still pressed against the pillow as you felt his release so deep inside you.
“Oh wow. That was… that was perfect.” You laughed, still trying to catch your breath as his cock twitched inside you.
“You are perfect, love." Joost mumbled affectionately, similarly breathless as his lips brushed against your shoulder. "Absolutely perfect."
“So are you.” You smiled contently as you spotted him out of the corner of your eyes, your breathing gradually evening out. “I can’t let you back outside, knowing you make love like this.” You joked smugly, making Joost absolutely beam at you in response.
"Well, I guess I'll just have to stay here forever, then." He said, his voice laced with amusement. "But honestly, love, that was incredible. I don't think I could have asked for anything more. You're amazing, and I hope you know that." He added, lifting your hand and pressing a kiss on top of it.
“I guess I know now. You certainly remind me of that and make me feel amazing, too.” You laughed again, blushing deeply at his comment and the sweet little gesture.
"Good, because you deserve to feel that way." His other arm wrapped around your waist and held you close. "I love making you feel special." He added, his voice filled with sincere warmth as he kissed your cheek, feeling utterly content in this moment.
“Thank you, love.” You grinned, cheeks warming as you snuggled into him. “I never want this to end.” Joost hugged you even closer at that, relishing in the feeling of your body against his own.
"Neither do I." He muttered. "Being here with you… it feels so perfect. I just want to freeze time and stay like this forever." He exhaled, his heart swelling as he held you in his arms. You smiled and closed your eyes, breathing in his scent and basking in this beautiful moment between the two of you.
“Hmm, after all we could stay like this for a while longer. We still have time.” Joost felt your body relax against his, the sensation making him smile fondly.
"You're right, love. We have all the time in the world." He repeated, feeling completely at ease… and so did you.
Kinktober '25 Schedule // More Kinktober // Masterlist 2.0
Synopsis: Talks of a potential cult spark the story of a lifetime for you. If you can infiltrate the group and prove if it’s actually a magic-based cult, you’ll graduate from the small town paper into the real fucking deal. And, hey, if it just ends up being Satanic Panic souring the good name of a local commune, then you’ll at least get to do a good deed and prove it otherwise. So, you just have to wedge your way in there a little and see what you can learn. Does magic really exist? Or will they throw some sort of low level hazing at you and it’ll be a total nothingburger?
Warnings: a 1970s-1980s setting (ambiguous for fun), nsfw content; gangbang, aphrodisiac potion, bondage (rope & with a pillory), magic, flogging, spanking, and a dash of paddling (-> punishment stuff), sexual fantasy made reality (-> can border on dub-con if you want, so you can read it however you wish with the consent), a bit of mockery/humilation, brief mention of hot wax dripping, fingering (and rough fingering), oral (witches receiving), clit stim, nipple stim, nipple clamps mentioned, overstim, strap-on, rough sex, multiple orgasms (sorta orgasm torture), non-con recording, squirting, no aftercare (but not in a malicious way)
Word Count: 4.7k
A/N: From a prompt on the kinktober form :) (shown below)
It was the story of a fucking lifetime.
Witches. Summonings. Cults. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something–and if it was something, you were right on the goddamn heels of it. From a small town paper to the big leagues–you were standing on your trip to the top, waiting to take that final step to certify yourself.
A commune or a cult? Witchcraft or just spirituality? Malicious or just misunderstood? Every question branched out into new ideas, new articles, new stories waiting to have your name plastered underneath them. If it turned out to be nothing, even then, you were clearing their name. At least you could say the collective group was just that–a group of people minding their business and living how they wanted to live. No magic in the dull world. No real magic.
So far, since you'd managed to walk in under a pseudonym at the farmers' market booth with handmade jewelry, jarred honey, and fresh fruits and herbs, it'd been a line walked right down the center. Nothing screamed magic or satanism, but they were still selective in sharing information about their commune.
It could be a home if you were looking for one. It had sisters waiting for you if you longed for friendship and connection. It had a safe sense of power that many might not experience out in the real world. Humdrum lives were all the rage, and they could give you a sliver of something more out there. Altogether.
It took two weeks of running into them at the farmers' market. Casually talking, sharing pieces of your falsified life to drive up your interest just enough without overdoing it. Bored, alone, overworked, tired. They didn't ask for money, which was interesting. And they never seemed to try and convince you to go dance naked around a fire in the woods–one of the rumored stories passed around the locals. No talks of human or ritualistic sacrifice, but that wasn't exactly everyday casual conversation.
You just bought some tea from them each time you saw them. Calming teas. Soothing teas. Those to help sleep and relax your thoughts and solidify uncertain parts of you–which you weren’t sure how that could work, but drinking the warm, sweet tea was satisfying. And with a dollop of their honey in it? In those two weeks, you’d never slept better.
On that fifteenth day, finally, it happened. Whatever trust clicked, it clicked. When you popped by their booth to see what new items they had for sale, a different woman was running the booth. There was an air about her that fired off every journalistic warning that you had to tread carefully; this was your in. This was your test.
She took one look at you from across their booth with a red-lipsticked smile, and there was a flip in your stomach. The air sparked with excitement you only got when a story was on the verge of connecting its dots. Silver rings donned her slender fingers, all the way up to her stiletto red nails. Her black dress was just a black dress, and there was a second of consideration that maybe they knew you were prying and they were playing up the witchy angle. But the way she wore the dress–no. It was part of her. It was no costume.
“Sister,” she said with a smile. With a clack of her heels on the sidewalk, she walked around to find you. Hands already out and finding yours before you could think of what to do, say, or simply react. It was just…a welcoming touch. Warm beyond possibility–a handwarmer must’ve been hidden back behind the table. “I see you with us, sister.” She held your hands a little tighter, bringing you just another step closer. “Do you seek something more beyond all of this?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
“Maybe,” you said softly, a little laugh was tacked on for extra effect. “I…I don’t know.”
She smiled just as she was and tilted her head; her long black hair flowed out of a clip at the back.
“We must vet you, but I can tell you would make a perfect addition to our sisterhood. Please. Here.” A reach back into the top of a thigh-high stocking showed the black lace, the buckle holding it up, and a folded piece of paper. “Come to this address tonight if you’re interested. We will ask a few questions, and vote on welcoming you in. If you are interested, that is.” The warm paper was tucked into your fingers. “But I really hope you are.”
A cult, then? You stared at that opened piece of paper hours later. You’d been staring at it a few times an hour since thanking her for it and returning to your motel room. Something in your belly was flipping like a somersault, but all your instincts were out the window. Excitement said yes. Journalistic opportunity screamed go, go, go. A brush of your fingers over your upper thigh, where the note had been tucked into her stocking, made your thighs twitch. But your heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Scared.
Now, you weren't sent off into areas of terror for your small newspaper job. Sure, you'd interviewed some less-than-honest folks, but there were no warzones, no truly high-stakes opportunities. This was the closest you'd come to that, and…. And, really, what were you getting so worked up over? The last murder that'd happened locally was forty years ago; there were no missing children, teens, or adults–let alone any linked to the group, and there were just rumors of rituals.
Odds were, you were walking into a vetting process made up of a dinner, some questions, and maybe a background check to make sure you weren’t the weird being brought in. It was probably innocent, really. The whole thing was just blown way out of proportion with the rise in Satanic panic. Some teenagers screwing around and enjoying Halloween too much could trip some worries in the overly anxious.
Odds were, this was nothing.
Which meant your story could be a bust waiting to happen, but at least you’d have something to publish. Would local group not actually a death, witchy cult be a riveting story? You could make it into one as best as you could, but it’d never top local group actually a coven and magic really does exist!
So you pulled on your best non-journalist clothing that still felt nicer than what you wore to the farmers' market and drove toward that written location. A twenty-minute drive, it seemed, out into the backwoods. The possibility of murder seemed a bit more likely the more the sun started to set, and you put your car in park in that small field there. The dirt road stopped right where over a dozen women stood waiting for you, all smiles, all welcoming. All dressed in black cloaks.
A joke or sincere? Hard to tell if they were just playing it up. But their hands held unlit candles, and they waved you over when you stepped out. The dead leaves of fall crunched under your boots. Your keys jingled, and your purse was heavy with an already recording camcorder and a handheld recording device. Audio and visual, with extra audio backup.
The woman from the booth–Rain, she introduced herself as–welcomed you with open arms.
“Come, come. We will gather here to talk. Are you cold?” She held up a cloak for you. A red one. The difference wasn’t lost on you, but there was a nip in the air. And the offer felt like a partial test.
You took the cloak.
It was impossibly warm. As if it’d been sitting by a fire waiting for you that entire time.
“We just have a few questions we ask to make sure welcoming someone in makes for a good fit, that’s all. We’re a family here, and one loose gear can destroy a whole machine, you know?” Rain’s hand was warm on your back. A soft, guiding press to the small of it, guiding you away from your car and through the trees. The other women followed in step behind you. “Relax, sister, we just have our setup through here.”
Through an opening in the trees, you walked. The path was footworn with spring flowers blooming on the edge-lined bushes. Reds and blacks caught the sudden firelight, and you glanced back. The candles were lit. Rain’s candle…was lit?
It hadn’t been when you walked up. Had it?
Maybe it had. Maybe you were focused on her so much that you hadn't noticed.
"Stand just over there," she whispered as the path broke open to a small open space. A near-perfect circle, if it wasn't already one. It was hard to tell when your nerves were suddenly burning hot and your bag slipped from your shoulders. Pulled. By Rain. Held in her fingers as you parted ways.
As you stood in the worn center of the circle, all the other women filed in around you. Literally around you. A circle of them enclosing you, all of their candles lit. Could they hear the pounding of your heart? Could they see the little shifts under the cloak? You had to reel it in. You were one wrong response away from giving yourself away, and–
“We have a welcoming trial that shows us if the new recruit is truly interested in joining us,” Rain mused, dangling your purse from one finger peeled away from the base of the thick candle. Held by one handle, the top gaped open. She pursed her red lips and reached in. Your heart stopped. How far was your car? She had your keys. You were stuck. Trapped. Screwed. “So I will give you this opportunity for the truth. Ms. (Y/L/N).” Your pulse stopped. She held up the camcorder. “State your sincere purpose. Do you come to mock our way of living?”
“No. It’s….” You cleared your throat, looking around at the now-raised hoods hiding all eyes from view. The night got darker. The candles got brighter. Sincerity. Truth, then. They still held no weapons, but you were outnumbered. So, you walk the line carefully. Very carefully. “It’s just a story. I wanted to prove whether the rumors are true or false.”
"The rumors," Rain mused, smiling down at the lens. "We practice no human sacrifice. We harm nobody. We buy and sell as all do. And still?" Those dark eyes pinned you in place. "Still, we are heralded in disgust, fear, and belittlement?"
You had no response. Just a flicker in your chest that made your pulse shoot higher.
Rain kept her smile as her eyes found you.
“You just want a story to write, am I correct?”
“And a truth to prove,” you said with a nod. A stiff, nervous nod.
Rain turned the lens toward you with a gradual move. She held it up right beside her candle, the light flickering off the side. The red blinking light stole your attention for all of a second, but then it was back on her.
"Alright, then. You want a truth to prove? A story to tell? We will give you one, sister." She stepped forward just a little; the circle remained intact. "Then you can decide if it's worth telling. How's that?"
Your hands twitched. Another somersault assaulted your stomach. Opportunity was ringing your doorbell, and you had to answer.
“What story are you willing to give me?” you murmured.
“The welcoming ritual.” Rain began to lift the candle. “How much are you willing to endure for such an exploitative story, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Her smile was a wicked thing waiting in the flickering light. “I give you my word, you will live to see the sunrise, if you need such a trust brokered.”
A tingle slid down the back of your neck. Intuition was a staple part of the job. Finding every color of flag screaming at you, telling you when to abandon and when to further. The forest seemed to hone in on you, on her, on the circle, and everything was a strange hum. Desperation was a play and a ploy; the need for a story barking at you from the foreground and background. This was your chance. This was your only chance.
You were already there. A circle of women in cloaks was nothing worthwhile. Not really.
You nodded. For no good reason beyond the awaiting story half-written already on the too-heavy typewriter you'd hauled with you. You nodded. Your agreement came with the lift of her candle, and with a purse of her lips, the flame was blown out.
Every single candle went out in a sudden blink.
The blinking red light was the last you saw in the darkness.
Maybe there was something in the candles screwing with you. That’s what it had to be. For there was no rational explanation for why it felt like the ground opened up and swallowed you whole. Grass under your feet was suddenly just…nothing. And the cloak was fluttering in the wind around you as you fell into nothing. Deep, dark, impossible nothing. Your scream had nothing to bounce off of, and your hands had nothing to grab. You just fell and fell and fell. Fell into–
A net. A net? The cloak draped around you with the sudden whiplash as soft, sturdy ropes latched onto you underneath the warm material. They spread like webbing underneath your shirt, pulling your arms behind your back, and they dipped into your pants, wrapped around your thighs, ankles, and pulled your legs back and apart. Connected–they were connected under the cloak, and you hung in that abyss as if you knelt in the air, hogtied underneath your clothing.
Stuck, you thought to scream, but as you blinked just once, there was a flicker. A candle’s flame. Then a second. Then a third. Fourth. Fifth. And so on. Then a red blinking light. The glint of the camcorder lens.
Another held it as the forest came back. A bonfire formed as a bright light in the background. A pretty red smoke coiled from the top. Rain walked toward you as you looked down at the dirt that no part of you touched. Dangling–you still just dangled.
She held no candle, but a bottle. A clear glass bottle of something black and sparkly, and she needn’t say anything as she brought it to your lips. The possibility of death was a poisonous thought in the back of your head. The touch of the cold glass to your lips, the tilt, the rush of bitterness rushing across your tongue…it tasted like the teas but without their honey added. It tasted…it tasted like…like magic.
Like–
Her sharp nails dug into your cheeks. One jerk, and she had you by your chin, holding you up to look at her. This wasn’t real? This couldn’t be real. But she leaned in slowly, the red of her lips parting.
“We don’t take kindly to being spied on. If you want to tell a story about us, it will be at your expense.” Her laugh was small, but it still brushed against your lips. “What are you willing to divulge about yourself for the sake of fame?” Her lips just barely touched yours. The webbing beneath your clothing tightened. “Our trial of acceptance comes at your self-interest. If you’re going to be a journalist, you must become a better liar. The only truth that stood out was your sheer desperation for us to want you and just how utterly alone you are. So, let’s face those truths, shall we, sister?”
One press of her mouth to yours silenced all questions. All thoughts. She tasted as sweet as honey. The slow, burning kiss came with a curl of her tongue and a pull through you. All the way down to your toes, you curled. Coiled. Tightening into that hogtie, the ropes digging into you even harder than before.
The bonfire’s heat carried into the circle.
The lit candles were still held all in that encapsulating circle.
And with one last curl of her tongue against yours, whatever she’d given you to drink settled in your stomach. Rationality exploded into a thousand impossible pieces. In a mere breath, you were gone.
The red blinking light was in front of you as you gasped into the dirt.
The cloak was gone–laid beside you on the ground. Your clothing was elsewhere, somewhere you couldn’t even recall where they’d fallen to. But the ropes remained. The ropes tied your ankles back against your thighs and kept your arms pinned behind your back. Dirt and leaves pressed into your font while you rocked on the ground, but they were hardly a focus. You just stared into that lens as the leather flogger danced over you again.
The sting cut through just like the last two dozen strikes brought, and you gasped once more into the dirt, shaking. It felt far away–every strike–yet entirely grounded. There but not. Real but not. A fantasy? A hallucination? But the laughter when you whined wasn't a simple brush off. The rise of the flogger and the next strike against your bottom wasn't a fantasy. The rustling of the cloaks didn't feel like it was happening out of reach in any sort of dream.
You just couldn’t recall how you got there. A gentle spinning filled your thoughts at the next crack against your bottom. You choked on your next gasp, pressing your forehead into the dirt. The shudder that hit was astronomical in strength, and yet no words fell in distaste. There wasn’t even the faintest sentiment of no trying to fall from your lips. A consciousness of what kept making you lurch on the ground was there. They struck you. Flogged you. Somehow stripped and bound you naked, and struck you like that, and, even ungagged, you said nothing.
Just looked up into the lens of the camcorder as the woman walked up to you and cupped your chin.
“Will you betray your sisters again?” she asked. Her thumb brushed over your lips. “Will you exploit us again?”
You shook your head. Such an easy answer. An answer conjured up from nowhere, but you had it. You knew it. You shook your head with desperation.
“Will you allow us to reprimand this distrust until it is regained?” She parted your lips slowly, circling your mouth and brushing the dirt from them. “Will you give yourself to us to join us, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Another crack of the flog had you nearly biting down on her. She kept you from doing so. Kept you looking into the lens. “For power? For attention? For deep desire?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
You nodded.
You nodded frantically.
She smiled.
The next strike came harder than the last.
“Then your true trial begins now, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she mused. “Rain?”
Rain hummed. The candles burned hotter. The bonfire grew higher.
The snap of unseen fingers darkened the world for a mere moment, and then it was back. You were gone then, so suddenly back. Back in the forest. Back staring at the red blinking dot that was carried out of view. Stuck looking at Rain holding that black leather flogger. The bonfire behind her high and mighty.
All as you gradually came to register the wooden pillory you were locked into.
Rain just smiled the same smile she’d given you at their jewelry and tea-clad table. She passed the flogger off to another. The tips of your toes were all that touched the ground, barely keeping you up and supported in the pillory.
“You’ll be free when you’re satisfied.” She cupped your chin and lifted one foot up to a ledge just beside you. A slit on her dress parted the fabric. Her thigh-high stocking was bared. As was the buckle and strap up to her garter belt. Then the lace of her black underwear. Then…. “The trial ends when you want it to. Well, and once we’re certain you’ve made such disloyalty up to us.”
A paddle cracked against your bottom and you jerked forward as much as you could like that. Rain beamed and pitched herself forward. Her red nails glittered where she pulled her underwear aside and bared her cunt to you. Behind you, at the sharp sting ripping through you, hands came to you. Fingers. Stuck stark naked, there was no barrier or pause before the touch found you.
Rain didn't need to dig her fingers into your cheeks; your mouth opened on its own for her. There was an ache–an undeniable, painful ache in your belly that had you pushing to meet her. And you lapped at her glistening cunt with a sudden hunger. A necessity. Two weeks alone in the motel was just two weeks of countless you’d been alone. You’d been busy. You’d been going to bed without another beside you, and it….
Fingers pinched your nipples and rubbed over your cunt, spreading your wetness over yourself like an answer to an unasked question. Rain drops her head back with a hum as your lips find her clit. Behind you, fingers find yours, and as they rub, two more press into you. Those two curl and pump and fill. Fill what’d been so empty for so long; a gaping hole now contracting as your cunt did. Wet and full, fluttering, your bottom burning from the strikes that lingered.
Two more.
Two from another person.
Your vision blurred just a smidgen as you stretched around them. Fingers filled and stretched; they pinched and pulled at your nipples. They brought the flogger back down on your bottom, and you lurched. Rain pitched forward more, rocking her hips and riding what you gave her.
The blinking red light came into your peripheral. The zoom in was audible.
"You can write your story on us, sister," Rain breathed, holding the back of your head so you were locked against her cunt. "But you'll have to show the world every drop of evidence."
The fingers on your clit worked you harder. Faster. Those inside of you stuffed you full, scissoring and rubbing against your g-spot. They worked together just right. They struck your eyes with tears and pinched your taut nipples. They filled and filled and filled and teased and teased and teased. Until Rain was beaming. Until the camera pans back. Until your cunt clenches around them, and everything flatlines in before a sharp, painful, pure wave of pleasure. And you scream.
The camera panned back as you cum.
You could barely hear that hum of the zoom as you clenched around the pumping fingers and came. Around them. Body tensing, shuddering, seizing up with an abrupt rush. With a vicious clenching and a curl of your toes and a moan that cracked out as loudly as the flogger. And you felt it. Squirting around their fingers.
How your body convulsed.
How you craved more.
Already–already craving more. Already whining against Rain. Already taking more pumps from their fingers and more attention on your clit. Staring up at Rain while you lapped at her cunt, yours stuffed full, there was the understanding. The wicked smile that made your eyes roll back as you felt another orgasm already approaching.
Rain came with a cackle as wicked as her smile.
She soaked your chin and left it dripping. You had nothing to muffle your scream when you came again, more fingers stuffed into you. You're not left uncovered for long as another approached and propped her foot up. In an instant, she cupped the back of your head and brought you to her cunt. Tasting as sweet as Rain did. Rocking her hips over your tongue, fucking herself on you as more lined up behind you.
The red light continued to blink.
The bonfire burned bright.
Fingers became a thick and phallic something that pressed into your cunt. Clips found your nipples. Fingers rubbed your clit as you're stretched wide and filled to the brim. The flogger came back to your ass, traded at random with a paddle or just someone's hands. You're never without someone's cunt to scream into.
They never stopped to let you catch your breath as you c
ame
And came.
And came again.
You dripped down your thighs as the moon fell. As the sun rose.
As Rain stood and watched.
The sun set
once more.
You hung limp in the pillory while your last orgasm left you trembling. Night came over the forest with moonlight through the tops of the wind-dancing trees. The phallic object was stuffed inside of you while all gathered around you in their cloaks. The red light came out from behind you and zoomed in on you from the front.
“When you don’t publish the story, you can come back and we can give you so much more than this, sister.” Rain plucked up the camera and dangled it from one finger at the strap. “This is just a mere fraction of what our magic can do. But….” She shrugged. “It’s your decision.”
And with a wave of one hand–
With a painful jolt, you're upright. Dressed. Staring at the bent rabbit ears on top of the motel television. Your typewriter was as it was on the desk. The draft of the half-written article set aside. Your camera….
A sting touched your ass as you sat up. An emptiness taunts your cunt with a hint of an ache. It…. It happened? It was a dream? It…? You flicked open the camcorder to the drained battery pack, but still opened up to one of the last recordings.
The bonfire. You. The pillory. Two women on either side of your soaked thighs, their black-painted nails holding your sopping cunt open. Another behind you. Another bringing the thick, sparkly purple silicone tip to your cunt. Pushing in. Gradually. Your whine cutting through while you angled your hips back to take what they barely gave you.
In the background, as she pressed the strap into you deeper and deeper, there's a flick of a wrist. An empty hand gained the flogger out of thin air. Another got a candle from nowhere. It tilted. Hot wax you don't remember touched your lower back. The flogger struck your ass. Fingers rubbed your clit. The strap settled girthily and nearly painfully deep while you simply moaned into the glimpse of the woman standing in front of you.
She waved tauntingly at the camera.
A bottle of wine appeared in her hand for a moment. So she could drink. And then, just like that, it's gone. Clear as day. Clear evidence.
The flogger struck you again.
The woman fucked you hard. Rough. Making you jerk in the pillory.
The camera zoomed in on your cunt when you came.
Laughter broke out when you squirted around the strap, your whole body convulsing, and your moans becoming desperate screams while she fucked you through it. As they rubbed your clit without stopping. As you fell into orgasmic pieces amidst the truth and the evidence and the impossible.
Magic.
Rain smirked in the capture while watching you.
What were you willing to give up for the sake of the story?
Another moan cracked out through the single speaker at the back of the camcorder, and you watched yourself come apart again. Squirting again. Begging for what they continued to give you with a power wielded at their fingertips. A want pulled from you in a ritual you couldn't fully comprehend.
What were you willing to give up for the sake of power?
You glanced back at your half-written draft.
Journalistic fame and a humiliation that'd follow you for the rest of your life, or magic? Magic and power and so much more?
You looked at yourself on the tiny screen.
Rain’s expression burned into you.
One single hard beat of your pulse, and you rolled off of your bed. Your story was left behind while your car keys jingled. You sped back to the forest with a promise of trust and sincerity ready for another trial to prove yourself.
cannot wait to share more of this with you soon . this page will be linked on my pinned post and will serve as the masterlist for the series . if you want to be added to the tag list , please let me know !
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character, Bucky Barnes x Witch!Baker!Female
POV: 3rd Person
Summary:Someone that works at the Avenger's Compound made a BIG mistake. Not only did they cheat on the Witch they'd been secretly dating for several months but they also stole something from her and gave it to the sidepiece. Well, technically they stole multiple things. Can Bucky navigate the relationship weary road to a Witch's heart when she doesn't believe anyone ever stays and considers herself cursed?.
Chapter Summary: The compound's daily breakfast buffet wasn't up to standard. Morgan Stark sends out her pal Mister Bucky to find out why her yummy muffins were yucky but he discovers much more than just that.
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: Language, Confused!Bucky, Allusions to Cheating, Scheming, Slight Angst, Distress, Mention of Animal Cruelty, and potentially others I forgot.
A/N: So...I know I said I wasn't gonna upload anything until I finished Howling Witch, but I changed my mind. Tony Stark is alive and he and Bucky have come to terms with each other (largely under threat of Pepper). Steve is not present.
He was never going to trust Tony’s vague directions again. Ever. Anyone that could fly around the city like that should have a better sense of direction.
Bucky had been wandering around the same four-block circuit for hours trying to find the bakery that had been supplying the compound’s breakfast goods for the past five months. Eventually he gave up and asked the first patrolling officer he saw if they knew of it. Once they nodded, after he finally convinced them that’s all he wanted and there wasn’t any threat to be handled, he asked where it was.
Bucky was sorely tempted to go back and give Tony hell but reminded himself of two things: 1. HYDRA used him to make Tony an orphan and even if they had worked through that, under Pepper’s insistent supervision, Bucky still felt bad about it. 2. Bucky had promised Morgan he wouldn’t come back until he got her the muffins they both liked.
Much to Tony’s frustrated displeasure his daughter had formed an attachment to the ex-assassin. Displeasure until it dawned upon him that he now had an overpowered bodyguard and babysitter for her that felt like he owed her father. Not that Tony took advantage of that…too much.
It was annoying at first, but it grew on Bucky pretty swiftly. Morgan was a sweet kid that everyone in the Avengers adored. They could disagree, and often did, on any number of topics, but Morgan wasn’t one of them.
So, when she expressed her disappointment at that morning’s muffin supply, Bucky was the first to offer to fix it. Tony gave him the name of the bakery he paid to make them and the vaguest directions ever to where it was found before taking his daughter with him to his office to get to work. It should not have taken Bucky this long to find it.
Well, at least he finally had. That’s what he was telling himself at least as he looked at the small storefront. Very small.
How had something so small supplied so many muffins, scones, rolls, bagels, and biscuits? Enough to comfortably feed all the staff, agents, and Avengers? With enough left-over people could take some of it home?
Looking at the soft pale green and white stripped awning, Juniper’s Grove stenciled in white on the door surrounded by a circle of trees he supposed it had to be bigger on the inside. Peering in through the glass at the warm oak flooring, several small white tables and chairs set out sporting little fake wooden trees sticking out of technicolor cupcakes as centerpieces, and trees painted on the walls that would make that Bob Ross guy proud, he figured it had to be. Stepping into it, the bell on the door jingling softly, the sound echoing in the distance past the doors to the back, he was certain it had to be.
Yet, in an instant all of those thoughts and questions were erased from his mind and then were replaced with something far more pressing when someone greeted him.
“I’ll b-be wi…with you in a mm-moment.”
The voice was female, soft, yet thick and sniffling. Barely held together. It had come from behind the counter. More specifically from behind the glass case fully filled with a huge assortment of vividly colored treats.
Brownies, mini-cakes, cupcakes, muffins, cookies in a variety of shapes from trees to cats to witch hats…in May. Well they were brightly colored and decorated with flowers so they were still themed right. Yet Bucky’s focus didn’t remain on them long, it shifted from what he saw through the glass to what lay behind the case itself.
Narrowing his eyes as he looked through it Bucky spotted someone on all fours, crawling behind it, searching as he stepped forward. Looking closer he saw it was no doubt the woman that had spoken. He couldn’t help but frown as he grew closer saw the distress on her freckled face. Deep green eyes past a round pair of glasses perched on her nose looked up at him through the glass. The look in them made him ache.
Heartbreak and panic.
Not because of him. No, Bucky knew what that looked like and this was different. This was someone holding onto the threads of themselves. Someone trying not to dissolve themselves with their own tears.
Then she stood up.
If her eyes weren’t red from previously shed salt he’d have found her adorable. Hell, he still did he just didn’t like that she had obviously been crying for quite a while and still was. That or the part where he understood very quickly she was about two of her dark juniper-colored hair strands away from a complete mental breakdown.
Perhaps one hair strand away.
She looked at him, but she also looked around him. Her eyes searched high, low, usually low, peering about as she tugged at the intricate braid her hair had been messily thrown into. Her clothes were grey. Light and dark, but they didn’t exactly match and looked like they’d been slept in from how they clumped and draped over her form with creases and wrinkles where they would have bunched as she lay on them. As appealing as he normally found the idea of a busty woman with matching hips, Bucky did not particularly find the upset look on her face to be something he wanted to see more of.
Maybe he was old-fashioned, but he didn’t enjoy it when, if he had to judge by how well put together everything else in the shop was, a lady was so distraught everything else became an afterthought. Glancing at the framed picture on the wall of a news article celebrating the shop’s continued success Bucky felt his theory that she didn’t normally look like this get validation. In that picture she was put together, smiling, glowing, and wearing a black choker with a triquetra pendant while holding a sweet-looking black cat in her arms.
His heart sunk as he imagined what would happen if something happened to his own ball of fur. He didn’t want to. Bucky did not want to imagine any moment of anything that involved something bad happening to his Alpine.
No.
She was his little fluffy snow angel of sass and cuddles. The world would burn if anyone tried to hurt her. The only one allowed to play with her that wasn’t him was Morgan…because Alpine allowed it. If she didn’t allow it then it wouldn’t have happened.
“I’m sorry but…did something happen to y-” he started and stopped as her eyes welled with tears into a shimmering pool of emerald and despair, “Hey…easy…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I am so sorry. I just…I have a cat of my own and…you just…you’re upset and I made it worse. Of course I made it worse…shit. I’m so sorry. I really am.”
She shook her head, grabbing some napkins to dab at her eyes while she did, gasping in sharply as she tried to hold everything together. This was not what he pictured when he set out to learn about their muffins. It didn’t mean he was leaving, though, no.
He was not raised…well he wasn’t raised to do a lot of things he’d done, but leaving a lady in clear distress definitely was not one of the things he was raised to do, “Um…do…do you want me to…put the closed sign up?”
She nodded as she wiped her eyes, ruby roads creeping towards an emerald oasis while she continued to look everywhere other than at him, “Please.”
Bucky nodded and went to flip the sign over. By the time he did and turned around he found her sitting at one of the tables sobbing into her napkins so pulled the blinds down enough her distress wasn’t going to be on display for the world to see.
“Do you want me to g-”
“I can’t find ‘em anywhere…” she sobbed, her voice muffled by the paper clump in her hands while she grabbed more napkins.
Bucky picked the trashcan up and brought it over, setting it down so she could put the snot covered ones into it. Slowly, he took a chair out and sat down. He was on edge, but anyone would be, and he just didn’t have it in him to leave her like this.
“You can’t find your cat? I can help you look. I’m really sorry for making you cry. I didn’t mean to. I just came in to ask about the muffins that were delivered to the Avenger’s Compound this morning.” Bucky explained slowly, calmly, and clearly.
Her attention snapped to him instantly. Her round, gold-rimmed glasses were dotted with drying tears on the lenses yet he could see confusion past the polka-dotted salt marks.
“What muffins?” she asked, nose a sweet soft pink and irritated red from the napkins, “I didn’t send an order there this morning.”
Bucky blinked with a suspicious scowl, blue eyes narrowed, “They were in the same boxes they always were when Mike brought them in.”
Something flashed through her eyes akin to a green fire of rage at the mention of the name. The tears were still there, but her pupils were constricted even in the low light as she twitched. The way her lips trembled brought his attention to them for a moment, yet he mentally slapped himself when she spoke.
“Mike…” she said, low, almost like one of Alpine’s little irritated growls whenever she spotted a cat or person she didn’t like.
“He’s a…security agent…at the compound…he brought them in with his girlfriend this morning…” Bucky said lowly and suddenly it felt like the room around him grew smaller and darker as she looked at him…into him almost.
He swore he heard the stud beams behind the walls creak and bend inwards with it.
“Girlfriend?” she asked in a hiss and he nodded slowly, every warning siren and alarm bell going off in his mind to get the hell out of there…but he didn’t; he couldn’t move.
“Okay…look, it’s not a reflection on you or anything you’re goin’ through, but I’m confused. It happens from time to time still for me, and…I don’t like it, so can you please kindly explain what the hell is going on?” he asked and glanced around him as it felt like the space took a deep breath and relaxed.
Even the sparkling and warm sweet smell of the goods returned. Almost in a rush of it as if everything light and airy had been previously sucked out by misery then rage. Of course he could have been imagining it.
“I’m sorry, Sargent Barnes.” She sighed and he blinked until he figured he’d given himself away with telling her where he came from, still not many people instantly recognized him unless he wasn’t wearing his gl…gloves…which he wasn’t.
Right.
“It’s fine. Well, it’s not fine you’re upset and everything, but I’m not upset with you. I wouldn’t be talkin’ if I were.” Bucky replied with as friendly of a smile as he could manage despite his growing confusion, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to or are uncomfortable telling me. Like I said, I just came here to ask about the muffins because they weren’t up to their usual standard.”
She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, shakily before wiping her nose once again, “Okay…I did not make or send muffins to the Avenger’s Compound this morning. I never got paid for them yesterday, so I did not make them for this morning. The person that usually paid me to make them was Mike. He came in to pick them up and would pay for the next day with a company card.”
“Okay. That tracks just fine so far.” Bucky nodded, giving her his full attention, “Why didn’t he do that yesterday?”
“Well, he said he forgot the card but he’d bring it by later because we had dinner plans.” She answered, the emerald darkening down.
Oh…he did not like where this was going.
“I take it those plans didn’t happen…”
“Not with me. I stopped by his place a bit early, not by much, half an hour…and when I get to the door all I hear are the sounds of loud, overdramatic sex. She was faking it, and I know she was because he’s nowhere near that good in bed…which I chalked up to inexperience but he’s just really a selfish douchekazoo.”
Well that was a new one.
“I wasn’t happy…obviously…but…y’know…shit happens and it wasn’t anything new. Anyway, I left and went home. He called later asking where I was and I told him quite calmly that we were done because I do not tolerate being run around on and I hung up.” She said, her tone calm, deliberate, reporting the facts even as she wiped her eyes with a clean tissue, “He showed up within the hour at the door, after I’d just gotten out of the shower and finished cleansing myself. Then, once it became clear I wasn’t having any of his sorry excuses or denials he decided it was my fault he cheated on me. That I drove him to it by being unable to give him what he really needed in a woman in a sexual capacity. Of course he put it more vulgarly than that, but it’s all the same in the end. He blamed me for it.”
“That’s stupid.” Bucky said and she nodded, sniffling a bit again.
“Yeah. We got into it. Things were said…and then he kicked Ixy. My cat. I don’t remember much after that other than a look of terror and him running once he got back up. He wouldn’t have but I went to look after Ixy, but I couldn’t find them and I can’t find my talisman.” She said and sniffled again, blinking rapidly as she fought back the tears while looking up, “I don’t care about him. Just another drop in the bucket…but I do care about my baby and that talisman. I thought maybe I left it in here, I take it off when baking because things get messy and it was busy yesterday, but it’s not here.”
“Your talisman…” Bucky said and she nodded while gesturing to the picture he’d seen, “Oh, that. I can help you look for your cat if you’d like. I’d lose it if anyone did that to Alpine…and then they’d lose their leg.”
“He would have if I wasn’t worried about them being alright. Ixy takes precedence over him. I’ll be upset about him later; I just want my baby back. I need to find my talisman.” She said and held her face in her hands before shaking her head, several strands of her hair pulling free from the braid as she did, “I swore I had it with me when I got home, but I’ve torn my place apart trying to find it.”
His phone rang. The sudden sharp sound made them both jump.
“Shit!” he jolted and sighed looking at his phone, “Sorry. It’s Tony. Morgan probably wants to know where I am.”
“Fuck…” she panted, holding her heart, her eyes wide as her glasses sat slightly askew on her nose. “That scared the shit out of me…”
Bucky chuckled briefly as he nodded before answering. It was Morgan as he expected.
“Mister Bucky…what’s takin’ so long?”
“It’s almost lunch time, Barnes. You’re gettin’ slow in your old age.” Tony’s voice said afterwards and Bucky took a deep breath in.
“Your directions were terrible. I had to stop a cop and ask for directions. That was a mistake. It took way too long to convince him that nothing was wrong and I just wanted directions. Anyway, I’m sittin’ here with…um…I don’t actually know your name…” Bucky began and looked at the woman he was sitting with.
“Right…I never introduced myself.” She realized and he shook his head.
“No, no you didn’t. I mean I can guess you’re Juniper but…that doesn’t mean I’m right.” He said and she huffed out a short laugh.
“True, but…yes. I’m Juniper.”
“I’m sittin’ here with Juniper and she told me she never sent any of her goods to the compound this morning.” Bucky said and heard a long silent pause he knew was never a good thing when it came to Tony.
“You spit the muffin back out right, sweetie?”
“Yeah…it was yucky.” Morgan answered and Tony sighed in understandable relief.
“That’s my little foodie. Okay…I’m gonna talk to Mister Bucky some more, why don’t you and Happy go bug Aunty Natasha for a few minutes. Kay?”
“Okay! Tell Mister Bucky I want my yummy muffin.”
“I will. Mwah, love you. Bye…” Tony replied and after several long moments spoke again, “Put me on speaker.”
Bucky did as he was told, setting the phone on the table between them before grabbing another napkin container for Juniper. She had emptied the one already there on the table.
“What do you mean that you didn’t send in anything this morning?” Tony asked with a feigned but direct calm.
“Just that. I didn’t send in any goods this morning. I never got paid.”
“Umm…” Tony started and they heard several clicks and taps, “Yes you did. The money was taken ouuut…wait…that’s not the right routing number. Everything else looks the same but…”
Juniper set her hands down on the table and looked at it before speaking, her voice starting low yet steadily growing louder and higher pitched as she went on.
“Mister Stark…I am about two-tenths of a nanosecond away from blowing my top. Mike never paid me yesterday morning. He said he would do it later because he left the card in his office. We were supposed to meet up last night for dinner. I went to meet up for our dinner date, he was in the middle of a different kind of date entirely, he came to my place after I told him to go do several things to himself because I do not tolerate that kind of behavior, he kicked my cat, and now I can’t find my cat or my talisman and now…now someone is impersonating my business and goods?” Juniper asked, eyes wide and twitching.
She was just…done. As if the day weren’t bad enough. Now there was this.
“Wait…you two were dating? I thought he was dating…Linda…Lana…something with an L.”
“Laurie? I don’t know either. I don’t like her so I never bothered to learn.” Bucky said in reply and paused as he looked at Juniper and saw her eyes were a slightly different color than before and…different.
“You know…thinking about this in depth…this could all go back to her. Pep said something about how cute her necklace was this morning. Like Junebug’s. Celtic knot thing with a cat on it.” Tony said and the room felt like it shrunk again, but then it was back to normal again as Juniper spoke.
“That’s my talisman.”
“I don’t think so. This one was part of a set. Ring, earrings, bracelet. Bit much.” Tony replied and the room blinked again yet Juniper just took a deep breath before speaking once more..
“Mister Stark…I’ve had that talisman for many years. There aren’t any others like it. So…as far as I can tell…Mike has been lying to not only me, but you, and potentially her.”
“I doubt it she’s a snot.” Bucky said as he looked around at things, “She probably knows.”
“I’m digging into it right now…” Tony said as they heard tapping and clicking, then tsking, “You just can’t find good help these days. What is it with women named Lorraine?”
“How did I not remember that? I remember Steve gettin’ in big trouble with Peggy because of her. Well, that Lorraine.” Bucky said and shook his head again, “Doesn’t matter. How’s she tied into this?”
“Looks like Mikey has been playing a long con. The funds went to the doppelganger Juniper’s Grove but it’s an account registered to Lorraine.” Tony said and Juniper stood up, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she started pacing.
“Let me…lemme get this straight. You know what, no, how long have those two been dating?” she asked and the two men paused, both thinking.
“I remember Natasha saying something about it…three and a half months ago?” Bucky guessed and Tony followed suit.
“Yeah. They showed up at the party together about then.” He said and Juniper’s eyes lit up before narrowing slightly as her head tilted.
“You know…I’ve never been to one of your parties.”
“I’ve told Mike to invite you. Even gave him the invitation. You never came…it…it was starting to hurt my feelings until Pepper explained you might not have the time to do that and be up in the morning for the bakery.” Tony replied and she shook her head.
“Nope…never got ‘em. Something is rotten in an already putrid swamp.” She said and Bucky nodded, thinking.
“Why would he want to hide you? How long were you dating him?” he asked.
“Five months about.” She answered and cleaned her glasses off, “I knew something was off…it’s not the first time…but…I just chalked it up to me being paranoid about it. I should have listened to my gut.”
“Well Bruce is running diagnostics on the muffins. Says they’re not poisoned or anything, just…terrible. Boxed like yours and everything. I don’t like that. I have another party tonight I was paying you extra to make a cake for…but that’s obviously not happening.” Tony sighed, “You know what. You’re invited. You can be Barnes’s plus one.”
“Sure.” Bucky agreed instantly.
“Now don-wait, you’re not arguing?” Tony asked, clearly dumbfounded, “Why are you not arguing? Do I need to get Sam? Should I call Raynor? Please tell me I don’t have to call that woman. She’s severely lacking in actual therapy skills. Hell, if I can understand you weren’t in control of yourself when what happened happened then so should everyone else.”
“No. You don’t need to get Sam. I walked in here and she was upset and started cryin’ and he kicked her cat. You know what I’d do if someone kicked my cat?”
“I don’t want to know, but I already do. Okay, it’s settled then. You come tonight as Barnes’s plus one. We’ll get to the bottom of this, we’ll get your stuff back, I’ll put out an APB on your cat, and-”
“You still want me to bake a cake, don’t you?” Juniper asked with a sigh, scarily calm at that moment though obviously annoyed.
“Yes, please. I’ll pay you triple. No more third-party payments. Straight deposit.” He answered and she shook her head silently with a sigh as she looked at the ceiling, “Please? Quadruple.”
“Fine. Just…email me what you want. It’ll be a good distraction until later. Make sure they’re both there…and she still has the jewelry. I want my property back.” Juniper answered while glancing down at the phone as if she would hold it personally responsible.
“You got it. Meanwhile, I’m gonna dig into this a bit more. I’ll have to send someone subtle to go probe the pair.”
“I’d say Natasha but you have her distracting Morgan right now.” Bucky answered while watching Juniper head behind the counter and take a box out to fill with an assortment of muffins.
“She’s still the best option. I’ll get her on it when you get back here.” Tony said and Bucky agreed before hanging up then accepting the box of muffins Juniper handed him.
She looked like she was teetering on the precipice of a pyramid. Any sudden movement would send her tumbling down into deep sadness, worried panic, blind rage, or calculated revenge. To him at least.
On the surface she just looked numb, but he knew much better than that. One wrong move and she’d go careening down one side or another. It was all just bubbling there.
“So…um…what…time…” he started and she shook her head.
“I’ll be there at seven. I have to bring the cake so I’ll be driving myself. Probably best to go in the staff entrance because…well I need to get the cake in the building. Just…thank you, Sargent Barnes. For everything. I just…I’m not kicking you out…I just need to get to work.” Juniper answered and he nodded.
“Of course. Look…here’s…my number…” he said as he looked around for a pen and accepted the one she handed him to write it down on a napkin, a clean one, “Just let me know if you need anything. Even if it’s just someone to help lift whatever massive cake Tony’s havin’ you make.”
“Thank you, Sargent Barnes.”
“Bucky.” He replied and she smiled a bit nodding, “If you’re my plus one tonight…might wanna call me Bucky. Y’know…to sell it.”
She smiled a bit more and huffed a soft laugh before nodding, “Yeah. Well…I better get to work on this massive cake.”
“See you at seven.” Bucky nodded and left once she nodded, texting Sam on the way out, “Mike the security guy is a total MORON.”
“And she’s your plus one tonight?” Sam asked as they sat in the park at a table, several food wrappers scattered on it and Bucky nodded while chewing his food as his friend looked at the information about the bakery online, “He picked Lorraine over this?”
Sam showed Bucky a picture of Juniper on Halloween. She wasn’t in a stereotypical “sexy Witch” outfit sold in stores. She was in a dark green dress that hugged every curve of her body tastefully with a huge black and green Witch’s hat decorated with moss, ivy, lace, and feathers, her full lips tinted black, hair twisted and braided over her shoulder, glasses perched on her nose, and the same black choker from the other picture…yet this one had a cat curled up in and around the triquetra’s openings around the knots. Bucky could have sworn the other photo’s pendant did not have a cat in it.
There definitely wasn’t a cat anywhere in this picture of her giving out treats to the children that stopped by the bakery. Or in the video Sam hit play on. Just Juniper being a bubbly sweetheart with the children.
“I love every bit of this. A fairy princess with her own sword. What cookie would you like?”
“The itty ones!”
“Of course you can have the kitty cookies, here you go. Uh oh…I think Mister Stark had an accident and shrunk himself…” Juniper said after handing out the bag of cat shaped cookies when a little boy in an Iron Man costume walked up, “You’ll definitely need some cookies to help you get back to normal size.”
She paid attention to each child, talking with their parents and guardians, making sure everyone was happy. Nothing about her in the video was numb or as upset as she had been earlier. She was an absolute sweetheart, a knock-out gorgeous sweetheart.
“I told you he was a moron.” Bucky said while nodding, “Thing is…why? I mean…c’mon that’s a lot of work to go through over baked goods. Amazing as they are…they’re just muffins, rolls, and scones. I love ‘em. Morgan loves ‘em…but…y’know?”
“Yeah. I love them too. We all do.” Sam nodded while thinking and shook his head, “I don’t know, but it’s messed up. Lorraine is in on it, she has to be, but…I don’t get it. You’re right, which pains me to admit, but you’re right. Fantastic as they are, and as much as I’m sure Tony pays her for them, they’re just muffins, rolls, scones, and stuff for the breakfast bar. Not…I don’t know. Not…caviar.”
“Caviar I’d definitely understand. The market on that is one of the reasons they have task forces in Russia just to combat the mob there.”
“Wait…seriously?”
“Yeah. We’re talkin’ hundreds of dollars an ounce in some cases.” Bucky nodded and sat back in his seat to think, “But these are just…it’s all just breakfast food…and a cake. Tony paid for her to make a cake. A big one.”
“You think they wanted to poison the cake? Take everyone out at the party tonight?” Sam asked and Bucky shook his head, unconvinced.
“No. They could have done that with the muffins this morning. Tony had them analyzed by Banner and they’re normal…just disgusting.” He said and Sam nodded with a groan.
“I had better out of a packet of week-old field rations.”
“I’ve had better in a HYDRA prisoner of war factory in Austria strapped to a gurney.” Bucky said and Sam grimaced.
“That’s cold, man.”
“Still true. Morgan spit hers out the first bite in and wouldn’t even pretend to feed the rest to her toys.” Bucky countered with a pointed look and Sam shook his head.
“Yeah…that’s bad. She’ll feed them anything. I still don’t get it. What’s the angle, and what’s the deal with the jewelry? Miss Juniper is more upset about that than Mike cheating on her or him and Lorraine stealing her business and money.”
“Said the ‘talisman’ is something she’s had for a very long time. Somethin’s weird with it, though…I swear the first time I saw it in a photo it did not have a cat on it, but…it does in that one and in the video and she said the one Lorraine was wearing today is hers…with a cat on it.”
“Could be one of the big three.”
“That is not a thing, Sam.”
“Yes it is. Androids, Aliens, Wizards.”
“No…it’s not.”
“Yes it is!”
“No it’s not!”
“You were one of them. That metal arm of yours makes you a cyborg. A cyborg is a kind of android, aliens are a thing and you know they are, and wizards are real. Doctor Strange counts. Sorcerers count as wizards.”
“Why do I even talk to you?”
“Because no one else is gonna put up with your stare-prone, grumpy ass. That’s why.”
A/N: That's part one. Part two should be up next week (hopefully. There's a lot going on in my offline world) Howling Witch is still underway and I know I said I'd finish that first but I wanted to get this out and moving along. Let me know what you think of it. I appreciate all likes and reblogs and thrive on comments as they motivate me more than you could ever imagine.
Kate Sharma will never regret what she is to do. Her mother always warned about using magic to harm, the danger of upsetting the balance. But she did not care, for he deserves what she had planned.
Witch fic!! I was actually supposed to post this for the WHAUB last year but i got a large depresso espresso and was unable to complete it. but!!! it’s winterhawk, and it is now actually almost done! so here. have some snip.
“But your mother—“ Wanda says softly, bringing a hand to her mouth in shock.
“My mother had magic. My father found her and stripped it from her, and then he married her. After I was born and started showing signs of magic, my father threatened to strip me of mine. My mother knew I would not survive, so we ran. She taught me what I needed to know, and then…” He pauses, this part of the story still difficult to tell.
“What happened?” Pietro asks softly.
“He caught us,” Clint says shortly. “And he beat the hearing out of me, and then took us back. I still do not know if it was me or truly an accident, but he lost control of the car. He and my mother were both killed.”
