#coffee spies au bolt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buckeverlasting · 6 years ago

Text

The Red Pickup Truck

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky has been dreaming his soulmate’s memories for years. Then one night a terrible nightmare tells him that something has happened to his soulmate. He needs to help her. He needs to find her first. (Soulmate AU)

A/N: One of the last from the old URL, I promise! Just a couple more! Anyway, this has kind of a quirky premise, but this one also has a special place close to my heart.

Warnings: angst and fluff; a brief scene with a car accident

Word count: 2.4k

Finally, Bucky found himself standing on the front porch of his own mind. Having the “front porch dream” meant that your soulmate was in close proximity to you, perhaps in the same town or city, even. He was dreaming that he stepped out of the house of his mind onto the front step of the mind space he was to share with his soulmate. She would step out of the house of her mind just across the street, onto her front porch, and finally they would be able to communicate. They could maybe even arrange to meet. 

He had been dreaming her memories for years. They didn’t come to him in any particular order. He had only recently seen her first steps, which were uncertain as she wobbled from the couch to the coffee table. His favorite memory of hers came as a recurring dream to him. It was sunset, and the sky was a brassy orange, which stretched in a dome around him seemingly forever because she was in the middle of a vast meadow. She had driven out there alone in her old red pickup truck. She stepped out of the truck and stretched her arms above her head and arched her back. Then she stooped and began plucking wildflowers from the meadow grass. Once she had gathered a whole bouquet’s worth, she climbed back into her truck and turned on the radio. She hummed along to the tinny music coming from the truck’s ancient stereo as she wove the wildflowers into a crown. The sun, as it sank lower, set her silhouette ablaze.

For Bucky, who had known violence and war for most of his waking life, this moment of peace was precious. Whenever he had that dream, he woke a little hopeful that the future might hold those kinds of moments for him, despite his past. He was desperate to have his first “front porch dream” and finally meet this woman. But now that he was there in the shared mind space, he was alone. He had never heard of anyone arriving on the front porch of their mind just to be alone.

Bucky woke up from that dream and stared at his ceiling, back in the world again. He swung his legs to the floor and hung his head between his knees. He reached for the glass of water on his nightstand and downed it in giant gulps.

He drifted down to the kitchen, where Steve was drinking coffee and reading the news on his phone.

“I had the dream, Steve,” Bucky said.

“The “front porch dream”? Congratulations, Buck!” Steve said. “What’s her name?”

Bucky sighed. “She wasn’t there. I was on the porch but alone. It was very strange.”

“That is strange.” Steve put his phone down. “I’m sorry. Perhaps you’ll meet her tonight.” Steve put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave him a little reassuring shake.

But that night he only dreamt reruns. He dreamt her lying on your stomach on her bedroom floor, reading picture books. He dreamt her driving through a pine forest in her pickup truck alone with the windows rolled down all the way. He dreamt her diving into a lake, and as she broke the surface of the water to come up, he awoke, breathless. It was still dark. He rolled over to look at his clock. It was only 3 in the morning.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Take me back there. I want to get back to the front porch,” he whispered. “Take me back.” He took long, deep breaths, repeating, “Take me back,” in his mind until he lulled himself to sleep.

He was on the porch again, still with no one across the street. He was alone, and it occurred to him that maybe she did arrive in the house of her mind but never stepped outside. Maybe she spied him through the window and decided to stay inside. Maybe his memories were nightmares that haunted even her waking hours. How could she not be horrified at the things he’d done?

He looked at his mismatched hands, turning them over, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I’m a monster,” he said.

Instead of waiting on the porch until he woke up like he had done the night before, he walked back into his house, expecting to wake up. Instead, he literally walked into another dream. He felt his skin prickle, as if the atmosphere were charged. It was. A jagged streak of lightning split the black night sky and illuminated the landscape. He was viewing the scene as if from the audience of a movie theater. Thunder crashed, and rain poured down in torrents. He saw a road twisting through a forest. Headlights approached. The light wove through the trees. As the headlights drew nearer, he noticed a dark shape leap out onto the road. A deer. Bucky tried to shout out, but his mouth wouldn’t move, as if his body were paralyzed. Another flash of lightning showed that the headlights belonged to a pickup truck that was now swerving to miss the deer. It skidded to the edge of the rain-slick road and rolled into a ditch. Bucky tried to scream, but his body did not respond to him.

He bolted awake and sat upright in bed. He raked his hands through his hair which was now damp with sweat. He swung his feet to the floor. He had to do something, but what? She had to be nearby because of the “front porch dream.” She was in the woods. The compound was upstate. She was somewhere nearby in upstate New York. He wracked his brain. There was a summer thunderstorm maybe three days ago. This happened three days ago. He had to find her.

---

He banged on Steve’s door. “Steve, it’s favor time,” he shouted. “I’m cashing in that IOU for dragging you out of the Potomac.”

Steve cracked open his door. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Buck?”

“My soulmate was in an accident. She’s nearby, and I need your help to find her.”

Steve seemed to snap out of his sleepiness. “What can I do, Buck?” Steve stepped into the hall.

“There has to be a police report of the accident,” Bucky said. “It might say which hospital they took her to.”

“Maybe,” Steve said. “If not, we could at least find her name and check local hospitals for a patient with that name.”

Bucky groaned.

“What is it?” Steve asked, alarmed.

“I didn’t want to find out like this,” Bucky said. “I don’t want to learn my soulmate’s name from a police report.”

“I understand, Buck,” Steve said. “I have an idea of how we can find her without you finding out her name.”

“Oh, this is amazing.” Bucky smiled.

“We’ll need to hack, though.” Steve sighed. “I’m not the best with computers, but I know someone who is.”

—-

Steve banged on Natasha’s door. “Nat, I need a favor,” Steve shouted. “I’m cashing in the IOU for dragging you out of the Hydra bunker in New Jersey.”

“Thanks for using your IOU for me, Steve.” Bucky clapped Steve on the back.

Steve smiled. “You’re my best friend, Buck. I just want you to be happy.”

Natasha cracked open her door. She gathered her bathrobe around her tightly. “Do you boys know what time it is?”

“It’s hero time, Nat,” Steve said.

She blinked at him. “Okay, where are we going now?”

“Can you use your laptop to hack into police databases?” Steve asked.

“Probably,” Natasha said. “I mean theoretically.”

“Then we’re not going anywhere,” Steve said.

“We’re going to need your skills, Natasha,” Bucky said. “Please.”

---

It took Natasha a matter of minutes to hack not only the local police databases but the hospital programs, too. All the information she had was Bucky’s description of the pickup truck, possible locations, and a description of the woman. They did all the work and made sure that Bucky didn’t see his soulmate’s name before she had a chance to tell him herself.

Steve and Natasha took the quinjet and dropped Bucky off at a hospital in the next town over. Bucky told them he wanted to do this alone. He didn’t know how his soulmate was going to respond to his sudden appearance. He didn’t want them to have to witness his possible rejection.

He got off the elevator on the third floor. Natasha had told him room 305. He ran down the hall toward 305. A nurse he passed yelled at him for running, but he didn’t stop. But he wondered if he was hurrying toward heartbreak. She could not want him after all. Or even worse, she could be dying. He shook the thoughts away. He just had to know. Would she be his future, his forever?

He found 305, knocked softly, and waited. A woman in her late 50s or so, with eyes puffy from crying, opened the door. She looked him up and down. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m her soulmate,” Bucky said.

“You can’t be here. Family only.”

“But I’m her soulmate. That has to count for something,” he said.

“How do I—” she started.

“I can prove it,” he said. “I know your daughter like I know my own mind. I saw her take her first steps. Her first word was ‘moon,’ and she pointed to a lamp. The first book she ever read was Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now by Dr. Seuss. Her third grade teacher was Mrs. Hildebrandt. She made apple pies with her grandmother. She studied Russian in high school. She wore a blue dress to homecoming, and I could go on. I know her, and I love her. Please just let me see her.”

“I believe you,” she said. “You can see her, but you should know first that she’s been in a coma for two days.”

She pulled back the curtain, and Bucky recognized his soulmate immediately. He recognized the hair in a mist on the pillow and the cheekbones even covered with tiny scrapes. Though her eyes were closed, he knew their color intimately. He knew the radiant light those eyes cast, and he wanted to be caught in their gaze.

“Did the doctors say how long?” He approached the bedside slowly.

“They don’t know,” she said.

“Can I wait here?” he asked.

“It could be days, or it could be years,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “I just want to be here for a little bit.”

“I suppose that’s fine,” she said.

Bucky sat down in one of the chairs under the window. He looked as the faintest pink of dawn glowed above the trees. He turned back to look at the poor, broken woman lying in the hospital gown.

“You can talk to her if you like,” she said, watching Bucky carefully.

He drew his chair close to the hospital bed. “Hi,” he said. “My name is Bucky, and I’m your soulmate. I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, and it’s crazy to think that we’ve never met when it feels like I’ve known you for ages. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, inside and out. I’m honored to think that our souls are somehow bound together. I really hope you feel the same way, although I’d understand if you didn’t. If you wake up, I promise to keep you safe and to love you forever. Hell, even if you didn’t wake up, I’d still love you forever. But please, wake up. Please, wake up.”

---

Bucky lost track of the hours as he sat beside her bed in the hospital. He was deaf to the nurses and doctors came and went. The sun rose and set. He couldn’t bring himself to eat. He just alternated between watching his soulmate in her dreamless slumber and the sky outside the window. He was exhausted, but he rubbed his eyes raw trying to stay awake in case she woke up. But eventually sleep caught up to him, and he had a dream.

He stepped out of the house of his mind and onto the front porch. He would have preferred an old memory to this, but he was surprised to find that he was not alone this time. Someone familiar was waving to him from across the street. “Wake up,” she called out.

He did. He gasped when he saw her propped up in her hospital bed, looking at him, with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry I made you wait all alone,” she said. “I promise I’ll never leave you alone again.”

Bucky leapt from his chair, knelt beside her bed, and took her hand. “You mean it? Even after everything I’ve done?”

“I know that wasn’t really you,” she said. “After all the memories I’ve seen of you growing up, don’t you think can recognize the real you when I see him, Bucky?”

“You know my name,” he said.

“Of course,” she said. “I heard you introduce yourself. I’m (Y/N). I’m so happy we’re finally meeting.” She squeezed his hand.

“You are? I guess I just thought that, whoever my soulmate was, I put her through hell,” he said. “Every memory must have been a nightmare. I’m sorry I put you through that.”

“It only means I understand your pain and want to help you heal,” she said. “And honestly, you didn’t put me through hell. I’m honored your life was shared with me.”

“But you saw me at my darkest.”

“Still, I loved you at your darkest.”

Bucky blinked back tears. He couldn’t speak. He just brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed every bruise he saw.

---

“I appreciate your fixing the truck, Bucky,” she said. “But why was the one condition that we drive here first?”

Bucky put the pickup truck in park in the middle of a large meadow surrounded by trees. The sun was setting in a fuchsia blaze. “I wanted to live out my favorite memory of yours,” he said.

He got out of the truck and began to pick wildflowers. He climbed back in with enough flowers to make a bridal bouquet. “For you, (Y/N).” He handed the bouquet to her, and she knew exactly what to do. Expertly she bent and twisted the stems and wove them into a beautiful crown of flowers. What Bucky didn’t expect was for her to put the crown on his head.

“This is different,” he said.

“We make new memories now,” she said. “Together.”

Thank you so much for reading! I’d love to hear your feedback!! Send an ask if you’d like to join a tag list :)

Permanent: @reniescarlett @captain-winny @delicatelyherdreams @sapphirestark @gottalovekidding @trashpanda-barnes @buckychrist @itsbuckysworld @marvelous-avengers @sgtbucketbarnes @loki-superwholockin @mywinterwolf @petersshirts @the-canary @whiskey-cokenfanfic @coffeeandpies @buckyofthemyscira @jamesbuckybarnes13 @tina8009 @queenofkings121 @heartssick @xxloki81xx @jewelofwinter @darcia22 @achishisha @imboredsueme @libbymouse @fitzsimmons-is-forever

Bucky: @gamorazenn @38leticia @marvelsangel @coal000

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #marvel fanfiction

313 notes · View notes

sammythankyou · 5 years ago

Text

Shadows On Your Side - Part One

Shadows are on your side, as soon as the lights go down In the darkest place you can find, you belong to the hands of the night

“Shadows On Your Side” by Duran Duran

Special thank you to @ms-mead for the gorgeous mood board! Thank you so much darling!

Summary: AU. Michael Langdon is a professional thief who steals supernatural artifacts. The reader is a dark witch on a quest to save the most important person in her life. When Michael steals something vital from her, she goes after him to get it back.

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Female Reader

Warnings: Mild angst, eventual smut but not in this part

A/N: This will probably be two parts, but I am not sure yet.

Blowing out a deep breath, you finally relaxed a bit when the plane’s wheels touched down on the run way. You were a reasonably powerful witch, but that didn’t stop you from being a white knuckle flyer. Clutching your small leather bag in your hands, you waited impatiently to exit the plane. Inside was a small vial of oil from a plant that didn’t even exist anymore. It was the final ingredient you needed.

Staring out of the small plane window, your thoughts drifted to your grandmother, feeling the familiar worry. Gran had raised you, was always there for you, no matter what. When your own mother rejected you, called you evil and unnatural, she took you in. After kids at school witnessed you healing a small bird with a broken wing, Gran was there with hugs and peppermint tea when they began their bullying. Barely out of high school, you had even been soundly rejected by Cordelia’s coven of narrow minded snobs. The bitch’s voice still rang in your head; the magic you possessed was too dark, too unpredictable. Spitting on the floor of their pretentious dining room, your grandmother had led you out in a sweep of colorful silk and silver and turquoise, never looking back. She was the only one who made you feel safe and accepted. Now it was your turn to be there for her.

After repeated attempts to heal Gran yourself, you finally had to accept that your magic was not powerful enough to cure something this serious. It had taken months to track down a spell, dating back to ancient Babylonia, that was said to heal any illness. Exhaustive research, as well as the trusted spirits on your talking board, swore that the spell was effective. It took too much time, more money than you could afford and several favors from individuals of extremely questionable character, in order to gather the necessary ingredients. In the meantime, Gran’s health had continued to deteriorate. The doctors said she only had a few months left. But, the October new moon was just a few days away, and everything was finally in place. For the first time in nearly a year, there was a small bloom of hope in your heart.

Well past midnight, you finally arrived back at the cozy bungalow you shared with your grandmother. After checking on her, snoring quietly in her bed, you continued to your own room. Entering your closet, you opened the small safe on the floor and deposited the vial from your bag inside before securely closing it again. The spell and ingredients sealed within were protected by both conventional and magical locks.

Like usual, you then sat down tiredly at the desk and pulled out your talking board. It was the same as it had been the past few weeks. The spirits repeatedly mentioned a powerful, dangerous man, warning you over and over about him. Finally, one of them had produced a name. Michael Langdon. Everyone had heard of Michael Langdon, but the few reports of anyone actually seeing him were sketchy at best. Some believed he was a powerful warlock, others a demon. A few had actually said he was the Antichrist. You would be extremely careful, like you always were, but you had to focus on the healing spell for Gran right now. Plus, if Michael Langdon was real, what could he possibly want with you? Thanking the spirits respectfully for their information, you placed your talking board back on its shelf. Sighing in exhaustion, you collapsed onto the bed without even changing out of your clothes.

A breathtakingly beautiful man, dressed in a long black coat stood in the doorway. Long, golden hair fell in soft waves over his shoulders. As he stalked toward your bed, the smile gracing his full pink lips was pleasant, but there was darkness behind it. Paralyzed by his power, you struggled to scream, to even move, but it was useless. Panic raced through you as he hovered over your face, his icy blue eyes glowing in the darkness. Stroking a lock of hair off your face with long graceful fingers, he simply watched you for a moment.

His perfect white teeth shown brightly as he spoke. “You have something I need,” he said softly.

Staring up at him mutely, you watched his pale blue eyes turn jet black.

Bolting upright, you glanced wildly around the room. No one was there. You fell back against the pillows, feeling the way your heart was pounding. There was no doubt in your mind; Michael Langdon had just invaded your dream.

“You have something I need.”

A horrible thought entered your mind and you were out of bed and racing to your closet in seconds.

The safe yawned open, empty of all the contents.

“No, no, no! NO!” You cried out sinking you hands into your hair and pulling hard enough to hurt. Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes as you paced around room in agitation. Whipping back around to glare at the empty safe, something caught your eye. A long, blonde hair was caught along the top of the open door to the safe. Reaching out, you pinched it tightly between your finger and thumb. Grabbing your iPad, you took a chance and opened a map of California. Carefully, placing the silky hair on the map, you pulled the crystal on the black cord from around your neck. It swung in tightening circles, scrying for Michael Langdon’s location.

He was nearby. Michael seemed to be heading in the direction of Santa Barbara. Grabbing your keys, bag and iPad, you raced out to your car intending to set a new land speed record in order to catch up to him. There was no way you were going to let this spell slip out of your hands so easily.

Less than an hour later, Michael was entering a small, private air strip near the Santa Barbara airport. Struggling to remain calm, you pushed the gas pedal to the floor determined to intercept him.

Pulling up to the guard station, you used your significant power of concilium to make the man open the locked gate.

In the distance you could see a small plane taxiing down a long strip of asphalt. You spied Michael talking with two other men, his golden hair bright against the darkness. His head turned in your direction, before you had even stopped the car. The image of his inky black eyes popped into your mind. Pushing down the cold fear that coiled in your belly, you slammed the car door shut and strode towards Michael, as the other men moved off quickly.

“Give it back!” You demanded, staring up into his handsome, hateful face.

“Y/N. I’m impressed. You are a determined thing, aren’t you?” Michael said with a smile.

“Please! I need that spell. Please just give it back to me,” you pleaded, changing tactics.

Indicating the small plane that was now in the air, Michael looked back at you with mock sympathy. “I’m afraid that is impossible.”

Shifting your gaze from Michael’s gleaming blue eyes, to the quickly disappearing plane, you felt like you had been punched in the stomach. “Where is that plane going?”

Michael looked at you quizzically, titling his head the slightest amount, not uttering a word.

Wrapping your arms around your middle, you turned away before the tears began to fall. How were you going to tell Gran?

“Wait!” Michael called out to you.

Ignoring him, you quickened your pace, but your legs had another idea. You found yourself frozen in place by his magic, glaring up at him as he suddenly appeared in front of you.

“That spell was for your grandmother,” Michael stated. The smirk was gone from his face, replaced by concern.

“Get out of my head Langdon!” You spat, even as the tears finally spilled down your face. What the hell did he care who the spell was for?

Feeling like a pinned insect as he studied you silently, you refused to meet his intense gaze. Slowly, Michael turned to walk away and then he was simply gone.

***

Trying to relieve the gritty feeling under your eyelids, you dug the heels of your hands into them. Too little sleep and too many tears made you want to rip your eyeballs out of their sockets just to stop the stinging. After the debacle of the night before, you hadn’t even bothered to go home, opting instead to head into the small shop your grandmother had owned for many years. Sullenly huddled over your coffee cup at the front counter, you heard the chimes on the door.

Michael Langdon’s tall, imposing form filled the open space.

Freezing for few seconds, you tried to find your voice. “What are you doing here?” You croaked out.

The same pleasant smile he wore in your dream passed over his full lips as he entered the store. Strolling around the small space, like he was a normal customer, Michael trailed his elegant, ringed fingers over the spines of books, examined the jars of herbs and cases of jewelry and crystals before stopping directly in front you.

Pale blue eyes traveled over your face. “You look tired, Y/N,” Michael said, ignoring your question.

Feeling your emotions rising to the surface again, you swallowed hard. “You got what you wanted. Please just leave me alone,” you pleaded.

Actual concern was painted all over Michael’s beautiful face. “I want to help your grandmother.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

The small smile was back on his stupid pink lips. “I can heal her.”

“Nothing can heal her except for the spell you stole from me!” You shouted, rising to your feet. “Now get the fuck out of my store!”

Michael gazed back at you silently, completely unfazed by your outburst.

Fighting the urge to claw his crystal blue eyes out, you glared up at him. “You’re serious?” You asked incredulously.

“I wouldn’t be wasting my time if I wasn’t,” Michael said.

Skeptically, you took in his solemn expression. “And why would you help us?”

“I’ll be at your home tomorrow night,” he said simply, leaving without another word.

***

“What time is he supposed to be here?” Gran asked.

“He didn’t say,” you answered as you helped settle her into the big comfortable chair in your small living room.

Her vivid green eyes pinned you. “What?” You asked.

Shaking her head slowly, Gran paused. “His magic is dark. I can feel it,” she said.

“So is mine,” you said, feeling a sting at her words.

Placing both her hands on your face, Gran looked you in eye. “All magic is a combination of light and dark,” she said kindly.

Smiling briefly at her, you leaned into her palm. “Is Michael a warlock?” You questioned.

“No. He is much stronger than a warlock. Michael’s power is... vast,” Gran trailed off.”There could be consequences.”

Gran’s words stopped you. “Consequences?” You questioned.

Holding her weathered hands out palms up, Gran nodded.

“Well, if Michael really can heal you, then I will deal with the consequences,” you said seriously.

Right on cue, there was a soft knock on the front door. Glancing back at Gran, you went to answer it.

Michael stood on the threshold dressed in an elegant black suit, long, golden hair cascading over his shoulders. His beauty was like nothing you had ever seen.

“Good evening Y/N,” Michael said pleasantly, the small smile in place on his full lips.

Gesturing inside, you stepped back so he could enter. “Come in,” you said.

Crossing the room, hands clasped behind his back, Michael’s presence filled the small space. He knelt down next to Gran’s chair.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” Michael said, holding out a graceful hand.

Gran grasped it between both of hers. “Mr Langdon,” she said looking into his handsome face.

“Please, call me Michael,” he answered.

Watching the two of them, you could sense the silent communication taking place.

Gran turned to meet your gaze, smiling reassuringly, before looking back at Michael.

Placing his large hand on her shoulder, Michael’s eyes closed, thick eyelashes fanned out against his cheekbones. Gran’s head dropped forward slowly, chin resting against her chest, as you looked on in concern. Michael’s brows knit together in concentration and then the lights all over the house were flickering violently. Suddenly, Gran’s head snapped up, eyes wide, staring at Michael in amazement. His sparkling blue eyes opened and he was looking back at her, a dazzling smile passing over his face.

Politely refusing Gran’s offer of tea, Michael made his way to the front door. Following behind him, you searched for a way to express your gratitude.

“Wait,” you began, as Michael turned to face you, his angelic features lit softly by the porch light. “Thank you.”

He smiled at you silently, causing a funny little flip in your stomach.

“Why did you help us?” You asked.

“I lost someone. Someone very dear to me. The same thing didn’t need to happen to you,” he answered.

Reaching out, he gently stroked the back of his hand down your cheek. And then he was gone.

Within days, everything had returned to normal. Gran was back to her vivacious self and planning a Samhain celebration with her many friends. Business had been particularly good, as it usually was during October.

Michael had given you your life back.

Constantly, you found your thoughts straying back to his crystal blue eyes and full pink lips, before you mentally slapped yourself.

Closing up the shop the next evening, you were looking forward to getting home, when there was movement in your peripheral vision.

Before you had a second to react, two large men in black suits blocked you in against the door. A dark hood was yanked over your head. Struggling against them was useless, your magic was even useless, but you fought with every ounce of strength you possessed. Suddenly, a sharp pain bloomed on the back of your head.

As the darkness descended, you instinctively called out to Michael Langdon for help.

Tagging...

@venusxxlangdon @lovelylangdonx @sojournmichael @allyadarth @langdons-rep @queencocoakimmie @kaigitana @uinen-ulmiel @sunshinemycat @langdvnshepherd @elena-75s-blog @bbyduncan @rocketgirl2410 @depressedbitch43 @flowing-imagination @witchbloodsworld @napping-is-my-favorite @langdondelrey @lennonlemon @itsnomystery @winxfred @soomishuwu @i-monky @thedeviltohisangel @frogmuttforever @manahime193 @deeppaperbatapricot @kleineshaeschen @bookobsssesed99 @wheredoiwhaaat25 @drama-penguins @dramapenguinthe3rd @divinelangdon @moltenskeleton @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @ms-mead @divinelangdon @softlangdon @dyns33 @langdonsdemon @coloursunlimited @nightsblackroses @omgsuperstarg @whope123 @urmomgayforlettuce @micheallangdons @evil-motherfuckerlangdon @langdonsinferno

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed!

#michael langdon x reader

65 notes · View notes

btsvt-adventures · 5 years ago

Note

ASDFGHJKL THAT NEW SHIFTER AU IS THE BEST please tell me more senpai!!!!!!!!!!!! jeonghan's sassiness, the way jisoo is so hopeless and jeonghan just revealing hinself like that i'm omg

A/n: Direct continuation of the (Cat)ch Me if You Can hehehehe bc the first chapter was a ridiculous 3,000 words lol lmao :3

Pairing: Jeonghan x Jisoo (Jihan)

Warning(s): Mostly fluff, some flustered Jisoo cos why not hehe

Words: 1,600+

Want more of this AU? Or want your own AU? Ask me here!

Shifter AU: (Cat)ch Me If You Can | Feline Feelings |

The Royal family had an ancestral secret. One that was fiercely protected, closely guarded, and well hidden.

All with royal blood were born with the ability to shapeshift into domesticated animals. All but one.

A hidden prince, born out of an illicit affair between the King and a maid. He alone had the mysterious ability to shift into predators.

Him, and his descendants were offered two options:

Guard the Royal family.

Or die.

“Besides, you sucked at hiding your little crush.”

Oh my god he knew this entire time?!

Jeonghan laughs when Jisoo turns even redder, hands twisting in his cream coloured (and coffee splattered) apron as he flails helplessly.

“What crush there’s no crush!” Jisoo squeaks, forcing out a laugh so fake it makes him cringe internally. “You’re just- I’m- I’m leaving bYE.”

Jeonghan stays in the back room, watching Jisoo be a complete mess trying to get out. He’s holding in his laughter at how flustered Jisoo is, to the point that he’s leaving his own cafe. He waits, knowing the barista will come back in and chase him out.

True enough, Jisoo turns around and points at him, still flustered and adorably huffy.

“This is my shop!!! You leave!!!” he whines, grabbing Jeonghan’s hand and tugging, pouting when Jeonghan doesn’t budge an inch.

“You’re so cute like this,” Jeonghan giggles, pulling Jisoo into his arms with a simple tug. “Come back to the palace with me,” he murmurs, arm tightening around Jisoo’s slim waist, effectively trapping him in.

“I can’t,” he protests weakly, even though he would really love to. “I just opened the cafe, I can’t just close up and leave now.”

Jisoo wants so badly to lean into the prince’s warmth and kiss Jeonghan’s soft, pink lips, but he doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries. Jeonghan sighs, grip still firm around the cafe owner’s waist.

“Oh fine, be all humble and responsible, I’ll just come round to pick you up later,” he grins, leaning in and kissing Jisoo on the lips, grinning when he feels Jisoo stiffen for a second and melt completely into his arms, responding eagerly to Jeonghan.

The kiss seems to last both forever and just for a second. They pull away from each other, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. Jisoo squeaks in surprise and he bolts out of the room, face and ears (and lips) on fire.

Seungcheol and Jihoon watch him stumble out, snickering between themselves when Jisoo jumps in surprise at their sudden appearance.

“You- what are you both doing here?” he sputters, turning away from them to flit uselessly around his coffee machine. He spies Jeonghan shifting back into cat form and strutting out, meowing loudly at Seungcheol and Jihoon to take him home.

“We’re here to make sure the newly betrothed couple are safe,” Seungcheol answers easily.

Jisoo’s eyes nearly fall out of his head at the word ‘betrothed.’

“I mean, we’re also to make sure you guys aren’t fucking in the back room,” Jihoon deadpans, “It’s so unsanitary,” he mutters, suppressing a laugh when Jisoo wheezes unattractively.

Cat Jeonghan – Cheonsa – meows unhappily and scratches at Jihoon’s leg vindictively.

“O-Ow your Highness please,” Jihoon grumbles, picking up Cheonsa and begrudgingly letting him settle across his shoulders.

MrOW (That’s for scarring Jisoo)

Jihoon grumbles his apologies, and Jisoo hands both Seungcheol and Jihoon their coffees, wishing them a cheerful (if not slightly breathless) farewell. Seungcheol waves to Jisoo, congratulating the cafe owner again before slipping out of the cafe, behind Jihoon and his Highness.

Seungcheol watches Jihoon and Prince Jeonghan argue quietly the entire way back, absently wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t found Jihoon.

Death.

Anything to protect the family.

Seungcheol holds back a shudder, eyes drifting to his partner. Somehow he can’t believe no one’s found out yet, but he’s not going to risk telling anyone. Jihoon, regardless of his… situation, is an exceptional guard. He’s quicker and smarter than the rest of the Royal Guard combined (in Seungcheol’s completely unbiased opinion anyway). Besides, having a smaller partner actually works really well; this way Seungcheol doesn’t have to worry about getting stuck in small places, Jihoon will fit into them perfectly.

Jeonghan glances up from Jihoon’s shoulder, meowing unhappily when he sees Seungcheol trudging gloomily behind them . He leverages himself on Jihoon’s arm, jumping off gracefully to pad over to his hulking, sulking bodyguard.

Why the long face Cheollie, Cheonsa purrs, winding his way around Seungcheol’s legs. Seungcheol shrugs, picking up the black cat with a sigh.

“Nothing your highness, let’s get back so we can announce to the rest of the guards your little game is up, not that everyone didn’t already know who you were going to choose,” he mumbles, and Jeonghan meows loudly.

(Seungcheol totally deserved that scratch, and he knew it too.)

Jisoo has to physically force himself to focus on his job, and not smile like a complete idiot the entire day. He (desperately) wants to close up and head to Jeonghan, but he also would like to keep earning money, so he endures the entire shift, thanking people who offer their congratulations, and keeping his distance from those who shoot him death looks for “winning” the Prince’s hand in marriage.

The thought makes him dizzy with nerves and happiness.

I get to be with Jeonghan.

I have to behave all Royal – oh gOd I’m nOT READY–

Jisoo’s fretting is interrupted when he hears the jingle of the bell, and he forces a polite smile onto his face.

I can just deal with this later.

“Hello my beloved,” Jeonghan greets smoothly, grin widening when he sees Jisoo turn bright red. Jihoon and Seungcheol walk in behind him, and can barely hold themselves back from snickering at Jisoo.

“Your highness pLeaSE,” Jisoo whines, quickly handing a customer their cup of coffee and mumbling a quick greeting, head bowed in an attempt to hide his burning cheeks

The customer laughs, thanking him for the coffee and heading to the door, stopping and turning suddenly. “Oh, before I forget, congratulations on your betrothal to the crown prince,” he grins, bowing slightly as he passes Jeonghan.

Jisoo closes up early for once, putting a sign on the door that said he would be closed for the rest of the week because of some “unforeseen circumstances” (read: Jeonghan had whined until Jisoo agreed).

“You can’t keep working here,” Jeonghan protests, and Jisoo rolls his eyes, counting out the money he’d earned today. “You can’t!” Jeonghan continues, pouting when Jisoo barely bats an eyelid. “ Well, not really. You’re my betrothed, you have to learn all the royal duties and etiquette and also be acquainted with the rest of my family,.”

“Jeonghan please,” Jisoo sighs, cupping Jeonghan’s cheek gently. “It’s a means of living, and I like working here.”

Jeonghan really wants to provide everything for Jisoo. He wants his pretty barista his life without worrying about things like money and making coffee for shitty people, but he also sees how genuinely happy Jisoo is in his little cafe, and he feels his resolve disappear.

“Fine, fine, you win,” he sighs, and Jisoo beams so brightly Jeonghan’s heart aches. “But, you still have to hire someone else for when we have duties together,” he offers, and Jisoo wrinkles his nose but agrees, grumbling under his breath about having to trust his cafe to another person.

Seungcheol and Jihoon watch them from the corner of the store, and neither can stop the fond smiles growing. They never knew a simple smile from Jeonghan’s chosen other could melt his will.

“He’s already so whipped,” Jihoon whispers, shaking his head, and Seungcheol’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“You would be too, if you found a blossoming love as pure as theirs,” Seungcheol sighs, glancing at Jihoon almost wistfully, although the other guard doesn’t catch it.

The second Jisoo finishes closing up, Jeonghan whisks him away to the palace, rambling excitedly about life at the palace, and how Jisoo was gonna love it, and how he’s so excited to introduce his entire family to Jisoo and –

Jisoo kisses him softly, and Jeonghan shuts up, staring blankly at his… boyfriend? Fiancé? Significant other???? Jisoo laughs, nestling his head against the Royal’s shoulder as they settle in the car, the silence blanketing them comfortably on the ride back.

“Will they like me?” Jisoo murmurs suddenly, glancing up at Jeonghan, who was scrolling through his phone. The prince hums, dropping a kiss onto Jisoo’s forehead.

“They’ll love you” Jeonghan reassures him, just as they pull into the palace. “I promise,” he hums, tugging his barista out of the car, right towards his family (accompanied of course, by the Royal Guards) who are all waiting and standing at attention.

“Hyung! Is that your chosen other? He’s so pretty!” Seungkwan yells, and Jisoo turns scarlet, shyly waving hello to the terrifyingly large group of people who are waiting to welcome him. Jeonghan winks at Jisoo before shifting into his cat, meowing loudly when all the guards stare in a mix of shock and horror.

“Y-your highness-!”

“O hMY GoD PriNCE jEONGHAN!”

“HYUNG!!!!!”

He already knows, calm down oh my god, Jeonghan (Cheonsa) purrs, winding himself around Jisoo’s legs.

“Wait is Jeonghan the only one like that?” Jisoo asks, eyes sparkling with excitement and curiosity, and Jeonghan – Cheonsa – jumps onto his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek affectionately. “Are all of you shifters too? That’s so cool! What are all your animals?”

“What the fuck?” Mingyu blurts, wincing when Minghao smacks him upside the head, grumpily warning him about language.

“Why aren’t you panicking? Did you already know? How did you know?” Junhui frowns, taking a protective step in front of his two charges, and Jeonghan shifts back immediately, hand resting calmly on the snow leopard’s shoulder.

“I showed him. Come on, let’s go inside and get comfortable, don’t overwhelm Jisoo like this,” he orders quietly, voice soft but steely, and everyone scrambles inside.

“Come on in Jisoo, I promise they’re not usually terrifying,” Jeonghan grins lightly at his newfound love, hand reaching out for Jisoo to take.

Well, here goes nothing.

Please like and reblog!

If you’d like more of this AU, or your own lil thing, of if you just wanna yell at me, you can do so here~

#thekpopnetwork #shifter au #prince jeonghan #cafe owner jisoo #seventeen #svt #jihan #jeonghan #jisoo #joshua #angel #soojinnie's biases #my baby boys #anonnie

18 notes · View notes

hello-rosette-blog · 6 years ago

Text

jeonghan ; spy!au

i recently saw the film knight and day, and it inspired me to write this! it’s something a little different. enjoy, loves!

tw: mentions of blood and torture

jeonghan had been trained to have no heart, but surprisingly, he found his because of you.

he was stationed at a budding company working in the biggest sector of the country. this company was founded and operated by your father. as the company grew and flourished, it was becoming a threat to certain parties that jeonghan’s agency did not want upset. for the greater good, it was better that your father’s company was destroyed, along with all the people involved in it, so that all the secrets do not come into light. and jeonghan was the one who was given the task to do so.

completing this mission, even for a seasoned spy like jeonghan, would take quite some time. he wanted to gain your father’s trust so that the takedown could be extremely more effective. so, he stayed in the company for well over a year, disguising as a college dropout with a fire to prove himself. he began as a clerk, then an administrative staff, then rising along the ranks until he secured his coveted position: a personal assistant to your father.

the gold mine of access and information that came with this new position was a dream. yet, there was an even bigger distraction than before. and that was you.

jeonghan never thought that the child of one of his targets would be so effortlessly magnificent. the first time you saw him on duty, you approached him and greeted him. you even bought him a takeaway lunch and advised him on how to best handle your father. he had never been shown that much kindness and care in his harsh life, and to see you, a beautiful person inside and out, do this to him, unwillingly made his heart beat faster.

you visited the office more frequently since then, spending time privately with your father then with jeonghan whenever you could, though the latter didn’t know exactly why. he could only hope that it was because of him. that you were attracted to him also and couldn’t get enough of him, the same way he felt about you. he longed for your presence after you were gone, daydreaming about the smooth conversations you two shared across the table and the ringing laugh you had that made his chest all warm. he yearned to catch a whiff of your scent, see your stunning side profile as the sunlight from the window entered in, hear your voice as you told him about all kinds of things.

he wanted you.

but he knew he couldn’t have you.

if you found out the true reason he was here, you would despise him. and he wouldn’t be able to survive that. he would rather die than know you hated him.

so, he convinced himself that he should keep it a well-guarded secret. he much preferred to love you in silence, because that way, at least he got to love you at all.

however, what he didn’t expect was what you did one day.

“hannie,” you called him from the chair in front of his desk, using a nickname you made for him. “i need to tell you something.”

“yes, y/n?” he responded, knowing that it was probably a question of when your father would finish, or what he liked you to bring for lunch the next day, or what new TV show he could recommend to you.

“i think i... i think i’m in love with you.”

jeonghan’s head snapped up as fast as a bolt of lightning. you were staring down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers, too fearful and anxious to meet his eyes. he could sense how nervous you were, but it was no match to his own condition. if he weren’t seated, he would tumble to the floor. he suddenly couldn’t feel anything, save the drilling beat of his heart.

“y/n...” he mustered enough courage and composure to reach for your hand, and caressed the inside of your palm with his thumb. “i’m in love with you, too.”

the return of the confession made you gasp and look up. after exchanging looks of bewilderment, both of you screamed in joy and went into each other’s arms. you settled yourself in jeonghan’s lap, giggling and kissing his face, while he laughed and stroked your head affectionately. he couldn’t stop thinking of how sweet his reality was. he never thought he could be loved, yet here you were, proving him wrong.

but, he still knew what was at stake. his job jeopardized you. if the agency knew of your relationship, you would be terminated. spies shouldn’t have distractions, especially personal relationships. but now, things were changing. his heart was beating and existing. his loyalty was dividing.

“i’ll protect you,” he whispered as you two pressed your foreheads together. his eyes were heavy with tears and conviction. his tone was soft yet absolute. “i’ll protect you, y/n. till the very day i die.”

you nodded several times, unaware of the burden he was bearing, the degree of seriousness he was presenting. “i know, hannie. thank you. i always feel safe when i’m with you.”

and that was the truth. he was your rock, your guardian, your key to life staying intact around you. he was the center of your world. in fact, he was your entire world. he had been reserved and untouched before, but now, he was the warmest being. the way he brushed his fingertips on your skin, the way his arms pulled you into his embrace, the way his lips ravished yours - all spoke of love, uncontained and undying, only love.

the times you two spent together were priceless. you went on dates, outings, adventures in the city. you went to concerts, coffee shops, restaurants, amusement parks. every second was happiness for both of you. your father, astoundingly to jeonghan, approved of your relationship. “it would make the company run more smoothly in the future,” he commented. you playfully smacked your father’s arm, while jeonghan could only wonder what it meant.

he dug and dug, doing what he knew second best. (his first one was loving you.) once he figured it out, his heart nearly stopped.

your father planned to make you the successor of the company. he had been training you, teaching you the ropes of the business. that was the reason you came so often to the office. and since jeonghan was a future son-in-law and knew the company as good as you and your father, he wanted to make jeonghan a co-owner of the company.

this broke him down. he could see a desirable future as your personal and professional partner - in fact, he wanted that more than anything. to exist with you, side by side, unstoppable. but he knew he wouldn’t ever experience it. if he betrayed the agency, the agency would terminate him and do worse things to you and your father. and he couldn’t let that happen.

he needed to protect you.

the best way, as he had always been taught about, was to please the agency. put the agency first. but he had to do it without you getting involved.

so, one day, he did it. the culmination of his mission. he killed the company by stealing all of its funds, publishing fake negative records about the company, and murdering everyone in the business except for you and your father. the company went bankrupt and disappeared in an instant. however, he knew you and your father would be alright, since he kept the funds and planned to give your father access to them soon. this was the only way he knew that could satisfy the agency and keep you safe.

but, in his crazed, love-blinded haste, he forgot one thing.

the agency never missed.

a day after jeonghan submitted his completed mission report, he returned to your shared apartment to face his ultimate nightmare.

“h-hannie...” you croaked, trying to get up from the pool of your own blood.

“baby!” jeonghan shrieked, instantly coming to your side and pulling you into his arms, cradling your bleeding figure while tears ran away from his eyes. “my love... i...”

“they t-told me i needed p-punishment,” you stammered, coughing. “n-no. i am p-punishment. for y-you.”

“i’m sorry,” jeonghan sobbed, caressing your jawline and looking into your eyes. eyes that were fading. he screamed inside, his heart was torn open, broken, ripped, he was losing it again. because he was losing you.

“d-don’t be,” you forced yourself to speak, despite your lack of breaths, despite your blinding vision, despite your consuming exhaustion. “t-they told me what y-you’ve done, but i don’t believe a-any of it. my h-hannie is pure, i s-said. my hannie won’t even hurt a f-fly.” you clasped his hand weakly. “my hannie w-won’t ever h-hurt me.”

he wanted to say so many things to you - he wanted to apologize, to explain, to let you know that he loved you, that you were the best gift he had ever received and he was willing to fight for you. but it all died on his tongue when he felt that you were taken away from him by a pair of large, strong arms.

you had been a distraction to jeonghan’s mission, so you were made to be one when he was about to face his death.

another pair of arms took him to another room, and he was tortured, blood, slices, cuts, screams, pain. however, he couldn’t physically feel any of it. the stabs of the knives, the hits on his joints, the crack of his bones.

what hurt him the most was listening to your cries for him from the other room, breathless chants of “hannie! h-hannie!” and knowing that he failed, he couldn’t do anything to protect you.

when your lifeless body was presented to him by the agency, he lost his heart again. this time for good.

#jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan angst #jeonghan imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #seventeen #svt

99 notes · View notes

anorakofavalon · 6 years ago

Text

Complications in Calcutta Chapter 1

REPOSTED, but this time with the entire first chapter included :)

Brutasha shippers! I’ve recently gotten back into writing fanfiction in order to practice some more writing, and though I usually stick to more fantasy-esque shows, I had a wonderful idea for a Brutasha ship and decided to write it out.

Also on AO3 and FFN.

Summary:

Because of unforeseen events, Fury is forced to send Agent Romanoff to collect Dr. Banner in Calcutta early or risk him being captured by Ross' men. When things inevitably go wrong, Bruce and Natasha are forced to go on the road in order to evade capture. All things considered, though, Natasha doesn't mind too much. The Doc is pleasant company - when he's around, that is.

A/N: This fic was inspired by the song "Move!" by Saint Motel. Go check out the music video on YouTube. It's a 360 degree virtualizer and it's awesome. Anyways, I listened to the song and had a stray thought about post cards and, well, this was born.

This is a little bit AU, as it takes place before Loki swiped the Tesseract from SHIELD and Clint was brain-washed, maybe by a month or two. Which basically means that Natasha and Banner's meeting got started slightly earlier.

I hope you enjoy my writing, and where I plan to take both Banner and Romanoff.

This man, this dutiful man, has got this sense of devotion.

Chapter 1: A Spider Spies a Scientist

"Agent Romanoff."

The glass door inched closed behind her as she walked into his office with a cup of coffee in her hand. The Director was standing by a window, staring out into the blue of the skies with his hands characteristically clasped behind his back.

Clint used to joke that the glass was the only thing that kept him from reaching down below and controlling things on Earth himself. Sometimes she was sure it was the truth.

Natasha didn't watch him too long. She had been on the helicarrier so often these days that she had gotten sick of looking out of windows, but Nick must have seen something in the vastness that she couldn't.

She quirked a smile when he turned to her. "Fury."

"Long time no see."

She sipped on her coffee as she took a seat."It's been precisely a day and a half. Not that I'm complaining, but you don't usually call in on weekends."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's a Tuesday, Agent Romanoff."

"After dealing with Stark for the past couple of days? Let's just say I'm glad he's wrapped up business here. Feels like a Friday."

"Well then, the good news is it'll be an exciting weekend for you."

Natasha was quite certain that whatever he had in mind would most definitely not be exciting. "What've you got in mind? A party?"

"Something like that. There's been a… complication in Calcutta, Agent. It involves Dr. Banner."

That piqued her interest. Last she had heard, Banner had left Bella Coola and was making his way to Asia. "I'm assuming it's not a complication of the green variety."

"Not quite. Or at least not quite yet. General Ross and his friends seem to have localized our man. It looks like they intend to take him in or take him out. Whichever it is, I'd much rather they didn't."

Natasha grimaced."Ross would be operating out of his jurisdiction by sending men after Banner."

"He's operating on a different jurisdiction entirely. You've read Banner's file Romanoff, I'm sure you can put two and two together. Hate is an international sort of affair."

"You seem strangely attached to the Big Guy, Director." She smirked, glancing up from her raised cup. "Got a crush?"

She wasn't surprised she didn't get a rise out of him – she rarely did – but she was ready to bet that he was amused deep, deep inside.

"Let's just say I have a vested interest in Dr. Banner." He took a seat and pulled something up on a tablet. "I need you to track down and protect our esteemed green scientist. If possible, bring him to us. I was going to wait a little bit, but With Rogers de-icing a few days ago and Stark building up relationships here at SHIELD, we might need him sooner rather than later."

She read through the briefing briefly, pinpointing everything vital. Something caught her eye.

"He's helping people?"

"According to the rumor mill. Foreign man shows up in a city like that and starts offering medicine and care for free? He was bound to get noticed."

She presented her theory carefully. "He must be fairly in control of himself if he's confident enough to go into a city like Calcutta."

"I believe he learned a thing or two during his stay in Canada, Romanoff."

She pushed on. It was a futile question, in so far as neither she nor Fury could get a firm answer to that without talking to the man himself, but she was fishing for something else – she wanted Fury's opinions on the Doc. "So why Calcutta? Why not try to start a life somewhere else?"

Fury looked at her evenly. She was sure he knew what she was searching for, but he decided there was no harm in the truth – though he wouldn't give her all of it. "Bruce Banner is a man who was turned into something he never wanted to be, and hurt people he never wanted to hurt. Maybe he's trying to do what good he can. But if Ross gets his hand on him, that'll be good for no one."

Natasha contemplated it for a moment, and decided she was willing to take on the mission. "How many men has Ross sent out?"

Fury's lip twitched upward. "A significant number."

"So do I get to pick my team this time or is that a privilege reserved for Phil?"

"Agent Romanoff – you are the team."

Fury hadn't lied when he said it would be just her. Well, at least technically. She was the only agent, but she didn't at all come alone or unarmed. She had about twenty foot soldiers, all wielding Hulk-grade weaponry, and all very nervous. Agent Hill said they were Hulk-grade, but that was more of a theoretical. Natasha only hoped that today wouldn't be the day they found out if SHIELD's labs were up to par.

She read Banner's file over for a fourth-or-maybe-fourteenth time as their carrier began a landing sequence. In the picture on the file he bore a soft smile, a haphazardly arranged mop of black hair, and glasses that were ready to parachute off of his nose at any moment. Natasha had a hard time reconciling Dr. Banner with the monstrosity that had destroyed Harlem, but as she flicked down to the video she felt flutters of fear again.

People had a misconception that she never felt anything akin to fear as a spy or an assassin. It was a silly notion. Fear kept her alive. On a chemical level, the adrenaline rush is her biggest combat advantage against someone foolish enough not to be afraid. Fear was often wisdom in her line of work, and caution went a long way. But acting on that fear was what made her strong. The Hulk was different, in a sense. No amount of adrenaline would keep her alive against something like that.

"Agent, we have landed. What do we do?" said one of the soldiers.

She dismantled her fears briskly, for now. They wouldn't be useful yet.

"We're about a mile south of our base. I'm going to need to head out now in order to lure him there. Keep the carrier on stealth, and I want someone on the pilot's seat at all times until the mission is over. We could have a take-off at any moment in case containment fails."

Base was perhaps more comfortable of a word than their little shack probably deserved to have applied to it. But it was on the edge of the city, it was cheap, and it would do. More importantly, every inch was covered in cameras, microphones, and more than enough weapons for her to pull from. What she would lack in concealment with her outfit would be made up for on-location.

She looked the group over for a moment and continued. "I want a perimeter on the building after he steps in. Until then, keep to the trees and keep hidden. Don't close in until I say and do not shoot until I give an express order. We don't want to make mountains out of molehills boys."

A loose chuckle.

She looked out a window. The sun was beginning to dwindle, slowly. "Start making the trek to your positions at sundown. Look alive gentlemen."

Natasha stepped out of the carrier and made her way to the city. She'd need to get eyes on the target first and foremost. She was already dressed for the occasion, wearing a two piece outfit with a shawl over her shoulders. Natasha opted for earthy and neutral colors. If the Hulk were to come out to play, she wanted to blend in as much as possible with the colors of the shack. Regardless, it was form-fitting and seduction would be possible if need be – not that she expected such a need at all. Maybe it was intuition, but she highly doubted Banner would be persuaded by something like that.

She stepped into the crowd from the off-road she had taken, passing the shack, and began to make her way to the city proper. It was crowded and saturated by the scents of a variety of local foods, and the sounds of bikes ringing and people chattering.

She took a moment and turned a corner into a fabrics shop, where they had bolts of all types of silk and wool and cotton on display in a variety of colors and designs. She pulled out her phone and checked where their scouting agents had last seen Banner. Three blocks away in a green house, the text said. She almost grinned at the coincidence, but the mention of the color brought up her apprehension about the mission.

Sun was setting at last, and she received a message from the one she had put in charge on the carrier. The men were en route to their positions. Natasha pursed her lips and looked up through the fabrics. She stepped away from the shop and spotted a little girl. Beckoning her in the local tongue, Natasha crouched down to her eye level and spoke in the voice she had always used with Cooper and Lila Barton. She pulled out some money and gave her a little quest.

The earnest excitement in the girl's eyes gave Natasha all the assurance she needed that the girl would come through. Telling her where to find the shack, Natasha thanked her, and sent her off to the green house with Dr. Banner. She began her walk to the base.

She was in position when she heard the little girl's rushed steps through the shack and a brief little grunt as she popped out through a window.

Dr. Banner sighed and chuckled at once. "Should have got paid up-front Banner" he said to himself.

He was wearing a tweed jacket, slacks, and a flesh-pink dress shirt. Same color as her shawl. His hair was a mop of black, like in the picture, except longer, and lightly sprinkled with gray hairs. His shoulders were tense, likely because he was already aware he was in a trap, but he didn't seem overly concerned.

It was a strange sort of confidence. Like he was afraid of the world and afraid for it all at once.

She stepped out of her spot and put on her own brand of confidence, despite the fear creeping up through her spine. It was different seeing him in person. He could snap at any moment and she would die a very short and brutal death. With that thought she spoke up.

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress you picked a..." she let her eyes roam the shack, as if it was her first time there,"hell of a place to settle."

He turned around quickly enough. He was surprised she was a woman, and yet not. He put down his bag, tense, and took a step back. She wondered, briefly, if he was going to simply run away. He didn't.

"Avoiding stress isn't the secret." Dr. Banner said, putting a little bit of distance between them. That wouldn't do. She needed to guide him closer to the table, where she at least had a weapon. Being seated would calm him.

She toyed with putting on a facade in her personality, but ultimately went with the truth. He was wary enough as it stood. The only person she was lying to now was herself, but being afraid was something she had learned to deal with long ago.

"So what is it? Yoga?" Her eyebrow quirked as she gazed at him steadily, openly. It was the first thought to cross her mind, but it also served the purpose of establishing repertoire, hopefully.

He didn't take it, though he was somewhat amused. Clearly his nerves outweighed his humor at the moment- he looked skittish. He wrung his hands together tightly, contemplating the shack as he nodded to himself. It was almost like he was comforting himself with his hands. He finished assessing his surroundings and began to move towards the window, further from her part of the room than before.

"You brought me to the edge of the city, smart." He commented as he inspected the darkness outside. "I, uh, I assume you have the place surrounded?"

Ten points to Dr. Banner. "Just you and me" she said. She moved to put her shawl on the chair near the table and stepped towards him, shoulders now bare. If it didn't work to appeal to his sensual side, then it created the illusion that she was at ease in his presence. He watched her, but asked a question before she could speak again.

"And your actress buddy?" He pointed to the room where the girl had made her little escape. "Is she a spy too? They start that young?"

His hands were clasped together once more as he yet again created a little bit of distance. It was getting to be a little frustrating but she answered evenly with a ghost of a shrug. Perhaps the truth would serve in her favor again. It was somewhat refreshing – the truth was a tool she didn't often have the occasion to use.

"I did."

"And who are you?"

"Natasha Romanoff."

He looked at her and stopped moving. He stood firmly in place, spine slightly straighter. Moment of truth. He made some more motions with his hands – why did he keep doing that? It was distracting. He looked down at the floor briefly before looking back up and speaking at last.

"Are you here to kill me Ms. Romanoff? Because," he shook his head, "that's not gonna work out...for everyone." A little smile, ironic and grim. Vaguely threatening.

She didn't deliberate too long on answering, but her heart was beating just a step too quick. "No, no, of course not." She stepped closer. It was like approaching a cornered animal. "I'm here on behalf of SHIELD."

He looked away from her and contemplated that. She wasn't sure if he was already familiar with the agency, but he didn't particularly seem to care. She imagined he wouldn't. A guy like him has probably heard from a lot of organizations with fancy acronyms.

"SHIELD," he sounded out, testing it. He looked to her briefly. She tilted her head, an invitation for him to ask what he wished to ask.

"How'd they find me?"

"We never lost you, doctor. We've… kept our distance." She smiled slightly, not that he'd see it. He was looking firmly at the ground. "Even helped keep other interested parties off your scent."

"Why?"

"Nick Fury seems to trust you." She kept her eyes open and as warm as she could. Non-threatening. "But now we need you to come in."

He didn't blink as he raised his head to answer her. "What if I said no?"

Now things were getting a little tense. She couldn't get a read on him, which threw her off balance more than she already was. Natasha couldn't figure out whether he was giving her a hypothesis, or presenting a firm answer.

She opted for more confidence. "I'll persuade you." She let her words hang in the air.

He didn't take the bait. His tongue swept briefly out of his mouth to wet his lips and he spoke quietly. "And what if the Other Guy says no?"

Her heart was a step and a half ahead of its normal pace. He scrutinized her now. It was a test, or maybe he just wanted to see how she would react to that.

She didn't drop her slight smile, and she began moving as she spoke, guiding him closer to her table. "You've been more than a year without an incident I don't think you want to break that streak." Confidence was the key.

She glanced back at him as she moved, briefly, and watched him push a wooden cradle back and forth as he responded.

"Well I don't every time get what I want." It was delivered in a soft voice, resigned, and she felt sympathy for the Doc. Couldn't he have children? That would have been on the file, right? Or maybe him and Elizabeth Ross had plans for a child before the accident?

She gave him a private moment as she pulled up a file on her phone. She also took the moment to give a status update to her soldiers. All was well for now.

Regardless, if the need arose, the moment she pulled any weapon from its spot in the room, they would know to deploy.

She glanced up at him from her spot. He hadn't moved from his position by the cradle, but his shoulders were somewhat less tense. He trusted her – to an extent.

"Doctor." She made sure her voice was all business now. He already knew she was an agent, so there was no need to pretend too much. Especially now that he was comfortable. "We're facing a potential global catastrophe."

He chuckled. "Oh those I actively try to avoid."

She appreciated the humor, but he had to know she was serious. She moved to the table.

"This," she showed him the phone from where he stood, but he'd have to come closer to see what it was, "is the tesseract." She took a seat and slid the phone across the table, inviting him to take a seat as well.

He got closer and pulled out a pair of reading glasses from his coat pocket. He approached the table and took the phone for a closer look, but he didn't sit down. That was unsettling. She had no idea how to get him to trust her.

"It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet." She informed him.

It was strange looking at him from where he stood. The science was clearly attractive to him, his eyes seemed curious from what she could tell as the blue of the screen illuminated his face.

He looked up, but when he didn't find her, lowered his gaze to where she was seated. It was a bemusing moment, and betrayed the fact that he was caught up in thought already.

"What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?"

She was impressed that he remembered the name of her superior. She had only mentioned it in passing, but he took in the small detail. His joke wasn't horrible either, but it dripped with self-depreciation and sarcasm in a heady mix that she would have found amusing if she wasn't so damn afraid.

She leaned forward to take back her phone. "He wants you to study it at one of our labs. We've had people analyze it, the best of the best but..." She put as much earnestness as she could in her voice.

"There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was..." she leaned back in her chair, seemingly relaxed and open, but she felt the mounting tension and her hand was carefully poised on her lap. Just under the table. Close to her gun. "That's where I'd be."

His face was amused. She had a bad feeling. "So Fury isn't after the monster?"

Fury very well might have been."Not that he's told me."

"And he tells you everything?" Ten more points to Dr. Banner. She wasn't overly fond of where this was heading.

"Talk to Fury, he needs you on this."

"Needs me in a cage?" Uh oh.

She made a mistake and tried for a little lie. She made to reach out to him across the table in a gesture of openness with one hand. The other edged closer to her weapon. "No one's going to put you in a cage -"

"Stop lying to me!" He slammed his hands on the table and her heart dropped faster than she ever could have imagined. When it picked up pace again less than a second later, it was sprinting in her chest. The gun was out and in her hand, cocked and ready to fire, her body in a defensive stance, and all of it happened before she even came close to registering exactly who she was pointing it at.

In a moment her entire perspective shifted, the entire conversation. She never had even a semblance of control here.

She pointed the weapon steadily, catching her breath. Any control she did have would have gone out the window when he turned green anyways. She suddenly rued the pistol in her hand. It would have been useless. But- maybe not. Banner wasn't green. As a matter of fact he didn't look even half as distressed as she felt.

He pulled back from the table with a little smirk. Her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt. "I'm sorry," he said, "that was mean."

He raised his hands in a conciliatory fashion. "I just wanted to see what you'd do."

She started at him disbelievingly over the barrel of her gun. Tears had gathered in her eyes, despite herself. She thought of all the people she would miss if she had died. The Bartons, first and foremost. Fury, Coulson, Hill. All of that could have been taken from her in a moment and she would have had no control over it. That was what scared her the most.

Banner continued softly. "Why don't we do this the easy way where you don't use -" he pointed to her weapon "that – and the other guy doesn't make a mess?"

"Okay? Natasha?" He had used her first name. His voice was comforting. It was a confirmation of sorts that he had seen right through the veil of confidence she had projected, not just to him but to herself.

She lowered her gun slowly and raised her hand to her earpiece.

"Stand down, we're good here" She instructed shakily..

She heard the weapons click as they began to step back. She, too, stepped away from Banner and re-considered her opinions. She knew he wasn't a fool, but he was quicker than she thought. He had outmaneuvered her entirely, and forced her on the defensive. That was rare.

The idea contrasted sharply with the sight of him now, wringing his hands together, staring at her wryly. "Just you and me, huh?"

A shaky breath from her end. She put the gun on the table and blinked away any lingering doubt. "Thirty points to Dr. Banner" she tried to joke.

He played along now. "You've been counting too? I counted forty, but my math may be wrong."

She chuckled, breathing still a little unstable, but better. "So, I take it you're coming along? I think you owe me after that scare."

He looked guilty. "I suppose I do. Sorry, again. It really was rude of me but I-" his hands wandered around. "I have trouble trusting."

She nodded and began to move to collect her shawl, but was forced quickly to freeze in place when she heard gunfire. Lots of it. Bruce heard it too. He looked up at her wildly. The question was obvious.

"Those weren't my men." She answered quickly. She tried to reach her lieutenant. The line was dead. Somebody cut off comms. More gunfire. She quickly came to a conclusion, and it wouldn't be good for anyone.

"Dr. Banner I need you to please stay calm and get close to the ground."

A bullet shot through one of the walls of the wooden shack, and the discharges got louder. She heard yelling loud and clear now, as well as grenades.

"Remember what I said about other interested parties?" She asked, crouching near him, pistol in hand.

He nodded, eyes wild.

She put her hand on his shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. She didn't have any facades now. "I think they've crashed ours. I need you to stay calm, okay? I swear I'm going to get you out of this and into safety."

Her heart was calmer now, in the face of gunfire. Guns she could deal with. Guns were familiar. She could control the situation.

Various more shots burst through the wooden shack, hitting the wall opposite them. The bullets were big. They passed right through those walls as well.

Natasha began to form a plan. Pistol raised, she chanced to rise from beneath the table. She began firing.

A/N: I hope you liked it! I have the rest of the story planned out; it's not going to be long, maybe around seven chapters, but I likely won't be able to get to typing up the next chapter because I have finals coming up soon. And Endgame, of course.

It was my first time writing anything set in the modern world, and definitely my first time writing Natasha, Fury, and Banner.

Please feel free to review!

#brutasha #brucenat #bruce x natasha #hulkwidow #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #black widow #hulk #fanfic

18 notes · View notes

fullmetaldevil-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Batim Stitched AU CH. 5

Well here we are with ch. 5 (finally). Though there are some points that are slightly disturbing but not excessively graphic (PG 13 mostly)

like previous chapters as I’m able I’ll be incorporating artworks into the story.

On with the Show~

A Dancing Demon and A Distraught Devil

Tom slowly rose from his bed quietly groaning with each movement, his body protesting the stress he has been subjected to. He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping figure next to him and a faint smile graced his features. He slowly and carefully extended a hand and brushed away a few stray strands of hair from Allison's sleeping face. Tom wanted nothing more then to give his wife a great big hug shouting and cheering, but he wouldn't celebrate until the ink machine was running and Joey wasn't breathing down his throat anymore. he quietly got dressed grunting and groaning the entire time, his body had enough of him beating it into the ground and wanted rest. He silently chanted a mental mantra 'just a few more hours', just a few more hours', he would have to survive a few more hours then he would be able to catch up on all the sleep he could ever want. Tom grabbed his work coat and car keys and headed out the door, he figured he could grab a quick 5¢ burger and penny coffee for breakfast. Again. He quietly longed for Allison's early morning breakfasts where he would be graced with anything from warm pancakes to sausages and hash browns. The little mantra resurfaced in his mind while he stopped at the local diner and got his breakfast, 'just a few more hours'.

Tom drove down the road towards Joey Drew Studios and his thoughts drifted to his journey to this point. The beginning of the week the experimental ink machine was completed after weeks of planning and building. The frosting on the cake was the darn thing actually worked! It even made a living toon on the first try, but Joey had to ruin that by attacking and killing the innocent creature. Tom truly felt bad for the little toon, it didn't ask to be made and was killed for looking different. Then to add insult to injury Joey threatens his wife's life if the machine isn't working properly and produces a perfect toon. Tom gritted his teeth at the memory of the verbal exchange with Joey. He silently wished that Bendy would turn against Joey and bring about his ruin in some fashion, but not at the expense of the toon's life. He already hated the loss of one toon he couldn't bear the thought of another being killed for no reason. Tom gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as the only thought that ran through his mind is that 'the nightmare is almost over' as he saw the outline of the studio coming into view.

Tom barely got out of his car when he spied a annoyingly familiar sight. Joey Drew. The studio director was standing in the doorway of the studio staring directly at Tom. The mechanic couldn't help but mentally question if Joey doesn't have a home to go home to since the man always seemed to be at the studio. Tom decided to grin and bear it for a bit longer and approached the entrance with Joey ready and waiting for him.

“Morning Mr. Drew” Tom spoke through clenched teeth on a fake smile he plastered on his face.

“And a good morning to you too Mr. Connor. Today we will make dreams come true.” Joey happily placed his hand on Tom's shoulder and showed the man inside either ignorant or ignoring the mechanic's fake attitude. Tom took Joey's actions as a good sign that the director was in a good mood and felt it was best not to fight the man at this point, it was safer to go with the flow rather then go against it.

Joey lead Tom to the ink machine room for him to begin the initial checks and preparation prior to the rest of the GENT staff arriving. Joey left Tom to his own devices and made a hasty retreat to the depths of the studio, the sounds of his foot steps and cane disappearing down the halls. With a clipboard in hand, Tom drifted about the base of the machine checking and double checking nuts and bolts making sure the primary pipes that fed the machine were secure. Once he double checked each nut personally with his own wrench finding that he had to tighten a few that Wally claimed he had secured, he started checking the two backup pipes. He knew the machine only needed the four central pipes to operate but he liked having the backup just in case something happens to the primary set. Tom gently crawled under the machine and ran his wrench over each bolt on the back ups making sure that all was secured.

With all the pipes checked and secured Tom checked the gauges ensuring they could handle the pressure they would soon be subjected to and hoped that Wally had remembered his lecture about how to handle the machine if it's pressure exceeds a certain number. Though he was quietly thankful wally was not around to bumble over the simplest of tasks. The last thing he needed was for something to get ruined and potentially cause a malfunction and end up with something that is far worse then just the image of a cartoon devil. Tom shook his head slightly, those thoughts were the last thing he needed on his mind. He needed to stay focused and make sure everything went off without a hitch. Though he found the strange circular patterns that Joey drew all over the machine and on the floor at it's base distracting. They were an eyesore and took away from the machine itself. Joey called them 'decoration' but while Tom wasn't an interior designer he knew the primary focus should be on the machine and not the strange children's drawing all over the place.

Tom spent quite a bit of time checking and double checking the ink machine making sure every nut, bolt, rivet, gauge and pipe were all in place and ready to go. The bustling of the rest of the GENT staffs arrival was the only relief he got and briefly sat down relaxing ever so slightly while the team rechecked everything and filtered throughout the studio checking all the machines inner workings and veins. While he relaxed Tom looked at the machine in it's entire. The massive boxy mechanism with a single nozzle with pipes that encased the studio, it was like a strange heart. The machine itself made dull throbbing sounds when ink was filtered through it on a low pressure and the throbbing eerily was at the same pace as a heart beat. The ink that flowed through it was it's blood that provided life to a mechanism that was designed to make life. Tom chuckled at the irony, creating a machine that imitated the proof of life with it's heartbeat to make life. He knew full well that despite Joey's claims it was only an illusion, the life he saw was real.

Tom momentary relaxation didn't last long until he saw Joey striding up to him with that eager gleam in his eye and sporting a bag. Tom inwardly groaned, it was the bag containing the 'sacrifices' that Joey had added onto the machine to operate. He seriously couldn't help but question why Joey insisted on having 6 items from the different departments being used as “keys” to turning on a machine when a simple throw of a switch yielded the same results. “Ugh, Someone is eager.” Tom rolled his eyes, sarcasm rolling off him in waves.

“You should be too, Mr. Connor. Our dreams are about to come true and we'll be famous.” Joey walked over to Tom resting his arm on Tom's shoulder as he waved towards the ink machine. “Think of all the people who would line up to see living toons, the joy on the children's faces at seeing their favorite characters physically in front of them rather then on a silver screen. To be able to shake their hands, hug them, talk to them and to play with them. It all begins here and it will be greatest moment in our studio's history” Joey's grin growing wide and his eyes held a bright gleam of enthusiasm. All his efforts aren't for naught and he will be able to salvage his studio from near bankruptcy and will rise up to quash all his competition. He, Joey Drew director of Joey Drew Studios will sit upon the throne of a glorious empire.

Tom didn't say a word while he listened to his bosses sickeningly sweet words. He could only wonder how many people where fooled by honeyed words from Joey, the mans 'golden smile and silver tongue' luring people to false promises. He now knew that all this effort from him, his staff, hell even everyone in the studio, it was all for Joey's benefit. None of them were having their dreams come true. Many were hired on with the gift of a dream job, only to find that it was bitter, cold and merely a foot hold for someone else. He silently cursed his own horrid luck with getting tangled with Joey, but he hoped that this would be the last thing he does for the man then he will take a page from Wally's book and 'get outta here'.

“Sir!” A GENT staffer ran up to Tom and Joey. “All checks have been completed, and all the staff are reporting that all systems are a go.”

Tom was about to speak when he was interrupted by joey “ Good show man, now you all should go home for the day.” The director waving his hand dismissively.

The GENT worker looked over at Tom confused, they had only been at the studio for a few hours and yet were being told to go home. They had yet to see the machine operate properly say for the repeated running it on a low pressure to circulate the ink and check it's efficiency. It was more confusing when Joey himself was telling them to leave when all he did was bar them from going home on time and straddled them with one task after another.

Tom saw the confused yet curious look on the workers face, but at this point he couldn't risk his team being subjected to Joey's torment anymore. “It's ok. Let the team know they can go home. I can man the machine myself for the time being.” Tom tried to smile reassuringly to his employee.

The young man looked at Joey and then back at Tom “Yes, sir. Thank you sir.” He tipped his hat and strode down the hall to round up the rest of the staff. “So you actually can manage a team of staff, and here I thought that title of 'Lead GENT' worker was just for your intelligence and not people skills. A good show none the less” Joey grinned as he shot a small glace at Tom while they watched clusters of GENT workers leaving.

Tom shot the man a glare. He knew he didn't always have the best people skills and he wasn't big on communicating his emotions, but he was a professional. He took his job very seriously and didn't hesitate to communicate information pertaining to construction, maintenance or general knowledge. A grin crept up across his face “Well at least I can keep my staff happy instead of miserable” while he waved good-bye to a few members of his team who eagerly waved back.

“No matter. Once we're done here I won't be needing you anymore Mr. Thomas Connor. You are relieved of your duties once I see Bendy. I'm well aware that Wally has been training under you, and he will be taking your place once you are gone.” Joey coolly shot back.

Joey's words were music to Tom's ears he couldn't contain the smile on his face “Oh whatever shall I do?” Tom dramatically rested his arm across his face. “I guess I'll have to seek out another full time employer, hopefully one who has money and isn't bankrupt.” letting out a overly dramatic sigh. He couldn't wait to go back to the GENT headquarters and seek out another contract with an employer whom he wished would have more compassion then the shew Mr. Drew. He didn't miss the red that was dusting the director's face. He knew he struck a nerve with Joey, and he frankly didn't care.

“I am not bankrupt you scoundrel and pathetic excuse of a mechanic!” Joey barked, his voice echoing off the walls of the room “ I will have my rise and this is merely a 'business expense' and 'investment'.” Joey brushed his hands over his hair trying to smoothen his ruffled hair back to it's normal slicked back look, a sneer plastered on his face “Do keep in mind your precious wife works for me. She can always have an accident if things don't work out.”

Tom returned the sneer with own confident grin “I'm certain it will work cause it worked the first time on a experimental phase and now it is on the real run. Though do keep in mind sir in the 'agreement' if you want to call it that, was that she was to be safe from harm as long as the machine was 'completed on time and you have a on-model Bendy'. So the machine is completed on time and it will produce a perfect Bendy, therefore I have met your terms to the 'agreement' and you can no longer touch her. If you do hurt her and label it an 'accident' I can testify as a witness and victim to threats and the damages done will be viewed at 'premeditated' or even so far as 'attempted murder'. You'll loose everything you've ever built and most of all, you'll loose Bendy.”

Joey scowled at the confident GENT worker, Tom had him pinned and the tables have turned. “Just get the items ready and prepare the machine, you're still mine till further notice.” Joey lowly growled out.

'Regrettably yes, for now.” Tom grinned relishing in the small victory over Joey. It wasn't everyday the director was taken down a notch, but for now he had to play nice since he was still on his payroll and they didn't have Bendy just yet. It was still too early to celebrate. Tom gestured towards the hall and Joey glared at him, but followed.

The dueling duo paced down the hall in silence say for the occasional clicking sound of Joey's cane and the two came upon the primary control room for the machine. The room was long and had 6 large posters with 3 on each side of the room and before them a pedestal. Pipes radiated from the base of the pedestals and the posters above indicated what was needed to be placed on each respective slot. The pipes lead to the back wall of the room which was covered in pistons, pipes and other mechanics with a large black panel that read 'Low Pressure' and a large sign above reading 'Ink Machine'. It was a strange room that felt like a shrine with altars, but it was Joey's 'unique' requirement and the eerie commentary about 'appeasing the gods'.

Tom turned to face Joey fully and extended his hand. “The items, sir.”

Joey glanced down and the bag he held tightly in his hand before handing it over to Tom, his Grey eyes studying every motion critically. He watched impatiently as Tom took each item out of the bag and was about to place them onto the pedestals. “Hold it Mr. Connor.”

The mechanic halted his action and looked at Joey frustrated “What is it now? Do you want Bendy or not?” Tom was surprised at Joey's sudden intrusion but at the same time growing frustrated with yet another delay. Joey gestures at the Bendy Doll in Tom's hand “The cog wheel goes first, then it's followed by the wrench, inkwell, vinyl record, the doll, and finally” Joey reached into his pocket and pulled out his black book. The Illusion of Living. “This is the last piece” he held it out for Tom.

Tom looked at the strange book with a sense of foreboding. He had never seen such a book before and Joey told him that there were 6 items used for the pedestals but never eluded as to what the last one was. This strange book gave off an unsettling aura about it, like it wasn't meant to be in the hands of a human, or anyone for that matter. He extended his hand carefully plucking the book from Joey and dare not look at it any longer then he had to and resumed his placing the items in the strange order Joey specified. Yet another annoying requirement for a machine that already complicated enough on its own.

Tom swallowed his scornful thoughts and one by one he approached each pedestal and placed the respective items. He briefly paused at the Bendy doll in his hand and his memory briefly drifted to the first Bendy toon but he shook the thought out of his head and placed the doll on the pedestal. As soon as the pedestal registered the items placement it sank into the ground slightly clicking into place as a light above turned on. With the last item in hand Tom approached the last pedestal and placed the book, the pedestal slumped into the ground clicking into place joining the rest. All 6 were in place and were ready to go. Tom quickly vacated the room going down the hall to another room and turned the pressure valve. He couldn't help but wonder why Joey insisted on it being so far away from the main controls rather then next to it where it was easier. He turned the valve till it was fully opened and he could hear the ink rapidly flow through the pipes in the area making the building vibrate from the pressure. He ran back to the main control room and noted the 'Low pressure' had now changed to 'Ready' the machine was ready to begin. He lowered the lever and in response the lights in the building flickered from the strain of the machine but held fast.

“Let's go sir.” Tom gestured to Joey for them to return to the room containing the machine itself. Tom was in no sense of the word in a hurry to reach the room, remembering the first time with the experimental machine and the chaos that followed. Joey on the other hand seemed to ignore his limp and held a purposeful stride to the chamber. The directors eyes were now mad with excitement, something that Tom wished he could wipe clean off the mans face.

The two men arrived at the ink machine room and could hear the machine humming with ink flowing through it. It seemed almost alive with it's low hums, seemingly waiting for it's master.

“Now Mr. Connor, on my mark I want you to pull the lever” Joey pointed to the control panel on the side of the room and Tom raised a brow but didn't feel like arguing and complied.

The mechanic took up his position by the side of the room with the controls and Joey pressed his hand against the side of the machine. He couldn't believe it. All this time and preparation were for this moment, something he thought he would never see. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He stared down at the drawing. It was a simple drawing but one that started it all. The little piece of paper contained the first official drawing of Bendy the dancing demon. Henry had spent hours drawing that day and the man had drawn such a cute endearing character that was sure to attract the crowds. He gifted one of his first drawing of the devil darling to Joey and apologized for smudges on the edges of the paper where his sweaty palm had rested as well as a tiny blood spot from where he got a paper cut earlier that day. The drawing wasn't in pristine condition being slightly soiled by Henry laboring over it, but it was the first. If this wasn't enough to bring Bendy to life then nothing in the studio was, except the creator himself.

Joey took one final look at the paper before inserting it into the panel on the side of the machine. He then turned his attention to the pile of film reels that had been brought in earlier and one by one he fed all the materials to the machine. It felt like the feeding wouldn't end until he finally held up the last reel. The very first film reel that Henry had made; 'Tombstone panic', it was a cute little introductory short with the devil darling that had jump started Bendy's popularity. Joey remembered the short and remembered that something had happened to the film causing it to break and the ending portion disappeared. Only a beginning with no end, but it was the first and most important. With a slide of the panel the reel was placed inside and swallowed by the hungry machine. “Now Tom!” Joey hollered across the room. He watched as the mechanic pulled the level and then hovered intently over the gauges and valves.

The Machine grumbled and choked initially, but once it's stuttering was done it roared to life violently swaying on it's chains, the lights of the room flickering from the renewed strain. Sounds of grinding and shredding emanated from the base of the machine as it chewed and swallowed the cells, reels and drawing all converting them to the ink they originally came from. The grinding sounds died down and the machine's bellowing died down to a content hum as it waited for further action.

Joey rested his hand lovingly on the side of the machine and produced a ink pen from his pocket. With tender and careful hands Joey drew a small circle and pentagram on the side of the machine. Satisfied with the inscription he removed himself from the side of the machine and stood before the machine admiring it before he knelt down and redrew the same circle and pentagram on the floor beneath the nozzle. Despite a circle having already been drawn beneath the base of the machine he wanted to be absolutely sure of the scriptures he had read and wanted no errors.

Tom watched Joey out the corner of his eye. He wasn't in a position to do anything about Joey since he had to make sure the machine was operating correctly, but he couldn't help but be concerned about the new additional patterns decorating the side of the machine and Joey retracing the one on the floor. If he didn't know any better, it resembled something from some strange occult and didn't and shouldn't belong in a place meant to make people smile, but he could do was watch. With the final stroke of a finger Joey grinned satisfied with his work, but that satisfaction faltered as he stood back up. His body protesting his actions, a reminder that his body was broken and didn't work as well as he'd like. He backed away from the machine and stood before it with outstretched arms, boasting to the open air before the machine. “The 6 items of sacrifice each a mere fraction of life, offered to create the demon born of paper and ink. I call forth Bendy to rise out of simulation to the world of realization.”

With the last of Joey's words leaving his lips the markings that were drawn on the side of the machine as well as the floor lit up with a dull red glow. The air seemed to grow cold as the lights flickered and dimmed, making the red glow seem even brighter then before. The machine reacted violently to this sudden change of events and quivered on it's chains. It's content hums now screeching and straining as it's pipes were pulsing and writhing like snakes from the ebb and flow of the ink. The building itself rattling from the sheer force of the pipes strain. Tom frantically reached to turn the valves to lower the pressure of ink flowing to the machine, but a shout from joey told the man to merely release the safety on the machine allowing it to be completely open and to back away in case something went wrong. Tom swallowed heavily and with the spin of a valve he removed the safety lock and backed away still watching the machine writhe in a strange possessed agony. The screeches and wails died down and the nozzle shook as a mass of thick ink oozed from it and dropped onto the pentagram beneath it on the floor. The machine stopped swaying as if exhausted from use and hung limply on its chains, the pipes surrounding it no longer violently thrashed as they all limply slumped and sprawled out all over the floor.

Tom was instantly reminded of the first Bendy and like the first one the gelatin mass of ink pulsed and swayed as it was taking shape, the ink splitting in two like the first time. The bottom portion of ink grew two short limbs ending in shiny boots and was swiftly followed by two additional limbs sporting a white gloved hand with two buttons on each hand. Tom immediately noted the lack of color on the gloves, they were monochrome like how Bendy is in the cartoon unlike the sepia colored version. The final gelatin mass of ink took on the very characteristic round shape ending with two little stubby horns atop the head and sporting a large white face. The face had a small frown and the eyes were closed as the little black and white toon lay on the floor in the puddle of ink he was made from.

Tom initially made a move to remove himself from his station to inspect the newborn toon, but Joey was already leaning over the toon picking him up. A twinge of annoyance hit Tom as he felt Joey was not handling the newborn toon as gently as he should, the director lifting the toon by his stomach placing him over his shoulder rather then cradling him like a child.

Joey turned towards Tom and gave him a smile “You may go now Mr. Connor. Your work here is done, make sure to clean out your closet before leaving.” Tom nodded slightly and watched Joey turn on his heel and leave taking Bendy with him. The toon barely cracked his pie cut eyes open and looked up at Tom sleepily. He gave a small smile and a wave before Joey disappeared out the door closing it behind himself.

Tom gently rested against the control panel, all his energy drained from him. His work in this hell hole was done and was finally free. Laughter bubbled up out of the man, but was soon quashed by feelings of regret and shame. He regretted taking on the ink machine project for this stubborn controlling client even though it was very well paying. He was ashamed of his hand in creating two infant toons that were reduced sadly to one. He could only hope in the back of his mind that Bendy will not meet the same fate as his experimental predecessor.

Thoughts warred against themselves in Tom's mind, but he was done with this place. He removed himself from his momentary resting place and turned to face the control panel. His hands glided across the levers and vales turning them to shut the machine down as it was not needed for the remainder of the day. With the machine put to bed, Tom slowly wandered down the halls taking in the sights one last time. He knew he wouldn't miss this place at all. The stench of ink that permeated the air nearly giving anyone who entered the building a gag reflex. The constant drips from pipe bursts and the occasional flooding of the halls. Oh yeah he would not miss those days. It was all Wally's problem now and he frankly didn't care. The young lazy janitor hardly did anything as it was and now he was to man the machine. Heh. Good luck with that. A Smile crept across Tom's lips as he could easily picture Wally pitching a fit over the smallest of spills, heaven forbid the boy had to work.

Tom drifted down the halls to his work station rummaging through papers and boxes. He piled all the papers into a box carefully examining them one by one, weeding out unneeded documents. He found the first draft blueprint of the ink machine and laughed to himself how much the machine had grown and changed. The original ink machine felt quite small in comparison to it's final counterpart. It was hard to believe that such a small machine was so successful and paved the way for the larger one to follow. The weeks mulling over the drafts, the slow process in building the parts and assembling it was all dead and gone. He boxed up the original blueprints and decided to leave a copy of the final version of the machine for Wally just in case the man had to fix something on the machine.

Tom briefly sat at his former desk looking over the room once everything was packed. This tiny room had served as his office and prison for the past few weeks and now its all over. He slumped in his chair relaxing when a poster caught his attention. It was Bendy's second short titled “Bendy in The Dancing Demon”. Tom didn't really watch the cartoons since he felt he was too old for them but this short left him chuckling watching the little demon's love of dancing. His mind drifted to the living Bendy that Joey took with him. He could only hope that the little demon could live up to the expectations of the crazed man, but something about Bendy didn't feel right. He remembered the first toon that was killed and the little devil felt sweet and gave off a feel of home. He didn't know why, but he felt like he somehow knew the little toon even though it had just been born. Though Bendy felt very different in comparison, like there was something in him that felt unsettling as if you were looking at a monster wearing the guise of a innocent toon.

Tom let out a sigh and looked back at his pile of boxes he had prepared, it's time to leave. He made sure all his tools were packed and put away and with several boxes in hand he left his work station and headed out the studio to his truck. He packed all his things in the back and started the truck to head home. The man completely forgetting the one thing his wife had entrusted him to do.

-----Meanwhile in the Studio-----

Joey retreated to his office with Bendy in tow and set the demon down on the couch while he himself sat across, eyeing him critically. The toon was perfectly on model and not a thing out of place, he thought Bendy would be bigger but he was surprisingly small, about the same size as a small child. He was a demon meant for children after all. Bendy laid on the couch sleeping while Joey presumed the toon was exhausted from his birth and went back to his desk to examine paperwork for the theme park that was in the making. He couldn't wait to debut the living toon and relish the in spotlight with his success of the park and studio. Bertrum Piedmont liked to boast about how the park is his ticket to grandeur, oh no silly fool, he is merely a stepping stone on his own path to glory. Joey's thoughts were ground to a halt when heard stirring within the room, he looked up from his paperwork to see Bendy sitting up on the couch looking around the room. “Finally awake I see.” Joey's words catching the toon's attention.

Bendy looked over at the older man and gave a smile “Hi-ya!” he waved at the man. “mah name's Bendy. What's yours?”

Joey's eyes were wide as he was taken back by the toon's voice dropping his paperwork. Bendy had never spoken in any of their shorts and it was largely up for debate as to how the toon would sound when finally given a speaking role. He didn't expect Bendy to speak at all, just the cute little wheezing like laughter everyone was familiar with. If anything he found his voice very alarming. The toon sounded similar to Henry when he was a much younger man, a boy in fact. The days he and Henry spent running around as children with him trying to keep Henry in line since the man was quite the devil as a child.

“where am I?” Bendy's voice snapping Joey's train of thought.

Joey straitened up trying to gauge the demon. “We are in my office, and I'm Joey Drew. Director of this studio.”

“Ooh” Bendy let out a small whistle as he looked around the room. “What's a studio?”

“A studio is where a form of art is made, be it drawings, music or film. This studio makes cartoons, your cartoons.” Joey gestured to a Bendy cutout in the corner of his office.

“Mah cartoons?” Bendy tilted his head in confusion looking at the cutout. He didn't understand what this director guy was going on about. All he knew was that he was in a room decorated in strange objects and a large paper copy of himself in a corner. “Why do ya have a paper drawing of me? Do ya like me that much?”

“It's not a matter of like Bendy. You're the star of our show, children love your cartoons on the big screen. You draw in crowds of people to see you and your friends Boris and Alice.” Joey leaned back in his chair.

“But I've never been on a show, whatever a show is. Plus I don' know who Boris an Alice are.” Bendy looked at him confused. Bendy knew he didn't have too many memories and this guy was eluding to things and people he doesn't remember.

Joey's eyes widened slightly. Bendy had no form of recollection of being the character he is supposed to be, let alone his partner toons Boris and Alice. This toon before him looks like Bendy but acts completely different from the Bendy on the screen and on paper. Why is that? They used everything that made Bendy who he is and yet his personality is different. Did something go wrong? Was there something mixed in that changed something in Bendy?

Joey sat still staring at Bendy who had resumed looking around the room now that the man was stunned into silence. The toon attention now captured by a gramophone against the wall next to Joey's desk. Bendy carefully circled around the device looking over the equipment with immense fascination. He gently rest his fingers on the level and it lowered making a grumbling sound from the pavilion and the turntable spun slightly. A little light bulb appeared over the toon's head and he grabbed the crank and spun it around several times rapidly. The gramophone grumbled initially but soon swayed to life playing music from the Bendy show.

Joey watched as Bendy's head slowly start to bob to the beat of the shows music that was being played on his gramophone, the toon clearly content with himself. After a minute Bendy stated to actually dance to the beat of the music, he was the dancing demon after all. Joey all the while was too stunned to say anything and merely watched the dancing devil.

“I like the music Mr.” Bendy chirped as he happily tap danced to the music. “ I don't know where it's from but I like it.”

His dance moves were exactly like the show but wrong. They were fluid and cleaner then any animator could possibly draw. He easily dipped in and out dance moves, he even did a small twirl at one point, but his head didn't spin with his body but rather floated there following his body's movements. Joey watched in growing disdain. Bendy was wrong, he's speaking when he shouldn't and he is dancing when there is no need to do such action. He is supposed to know his toon friends and know the music to his own show. Why doesn't he know anything that makes him, him?

A little chime sounded through the room as the clock on the wall sounded off the evening hours instantly catching the toon's attention. Bendy stopped dancing and hopped up on the couch to get a better look at the clock. “Oooh what's that?” the toon pointing up at the clock.

“A clock.” Joey grumbled out starting to rub his temples.

Bendy started up at the clock in amazement at the little bird that popped in and out before hopping off the couch and climbing onto a short shelf near a wall of photos beneath the clock. The toon was fascinated by all the photos of various people and figures upon the wall. The clattering around of the energetic toon rapidly getting on Joey's nerves. The director remembered Bendy is a bit of a energetic character, but never this energetic. Why is everything going wrong with Bendy?

“Hey!” Bendy's voice causing the frustrated director to look up. “Is that Henry?” Bendy pointed at a photo of two young men both standing before the studio each man wearing an ear to ear grin. He pointed at the younger chestnut haired man whom was shorter of the two. The man wore a simple black suit and a white bow tie while holding handful of papers and an inkwell with a pen sticking out of it. It was the day the studio opened, a day Joey remembered all too well. He and Henry had pooled what little money they had between them to buy the older building that was slated to be torn down. Both were excited to finally have a studio of their own even if it wasn't much and they only had two staffers at the time, Norman and Sammy. Joey had begged Sammy to join them in creating music since the man had a high level of talent but no place to truly shine, promising him the position of musical director. Norman was a rare find and one that he was more then happy to acquire. The man being dark skinned had gotten him some rough treatment in his home state, but on this side of the country his skin color didn't matter. Norman knew his profession exceedingly well and was a diligent worker. Naught but 2 weeks into the studio's opening and the small staff Joey had acquired and continuously added, Henry had come up to him with the little cartoon devil and it proved to be their ticket to fame. The devil was a instant hit with children.

Joey rose from his chair, his anger starting to boil over. “How do you know Henry?” he stomped up to the oblivious toon. Bendy shouldn't know Henry, the man was not present for the toon's creation, he was. Henry only drew the toon and he, Joey Drew owns the rights.

Bendy placed a finger on his chin in thought “Hmm, Dunno. All I do know is Henry is mah creator.” He beamed up the now outraged studio director, an action he regretted when Joey was now looming over the toon.

“Henry has nothing to do with you. You are my toon from my Studio” Joey growled. Bendy quivered under the man's frigid glare.

“B-But, H-Henry-” Bendy stuttered out, ink dripping from the side of his head.

“Henry is gone! I own you!” Joey bellowed out, his patience with the toon at its end. “You could never know Henry cause he isn't here!”

Bendy mustered up the little courage he had to face the enraged man “I-I do know Henry! His blood, sweat 'n tears are in mah ink!” he emphasized his point by placing his hand over his chest where his heart would be. “He is mah creator, not you!”

Joey had enough of the toon, He reached out and grabbed Bendy by his sides pinning his arms and lifted the toon up. The toon screamed and struggled in the mans grasp kicking Joey in his leg during his struggle sending the man toppling. With his grip loosened on the toon, Bendy wiggled out of the mans grasp and ran for the door trying desperately to open it. His cries for help and for someone, anyone to help him fell silent on the long halls of the studio void of any and all staff. While Bendy was trying to open the locks on the door his gloved fingers too large to open the small locks properly, he failed to realize that Joey had regained his composure and brandished his cane. With one swift and heavy swing Joey struck Bendy on the back of the head knocking the toon out cold, his body crumbling to the ground.

Joey stood over the toon with labored breath. This isn't Bendy, it looks like Bendy but it acts like Henry. Bendy is supposed to be Bendy and not have traits from his creator. He is supposed to have a whistling like sound not a voice. He is supposed to be the little devil darling and dancing demon that had many little misadventures and never seems to get his way. He's supposed to make the crowd pity him, not stand up for himself. Something went wrong.

Joey grabbed Bendy's unconscious body and held him under his arm as he hastily made his way out his office and to the elevator. Joey's mind racing with all the work and time spent on the toon in his arms, he needed the toon out of the way and to try and figure out what went wrong. There must be a way to fix Bendy, to make him proper. The elevator gate creaked open and joey rushed inside pressing the button for the lowest possible level in the studio. The gates closed with a groan and the mechanism slowly made it's way down to the depths of the studio. Joey spent the ride staring out through the gates of the elevator as it passed each level of the studio, the floors steadily getting darker and darker the further they went. When the elevator finally stopped Joey stormed out and twisted and turned his way downs halls and unfinished corridors heading even further down. As he made his decent he caught the occasional glimpse of the shaft that the ink machine was suspended over and all he had to do was follow it. When Joey finally reached the true bottom of the studio the place was cold, dark and damp, ink oozed out of the walls in small streams forming a vast river. The GENT team was shocked upon the caverns discovery and Joey urged them to use it to store the ink for the machine rather then to use holding containers. Why not use mother natures natural well to hold the ink. The director tossed Bendy's unconscious body onto one of the small paddle boats that GENT made to transport cargo. With a small turn of the motor the paddle wheel creaked to life sending them down the river. The man grew frustrated as the boat kept constantly getting clogged by clumps of ink, as if the ink itself was protesting him. He had to constantly stop to use his cane to clear the ink all the while making sure Bendy was still unconscious. This was by no sense of the word Joey's preferred route of reaching the depths of the studio but if he took the normal halls and stairwells he ran the risk of being seen, even if the staff was off for the day there was always the chance of a lingering employee.

The tunnel of ink finally opened up to a larger cavern which signaled they were at the true heart of the studio. Joey steered the boat to the small dock that had been made and grabbed his prisoner and entered the cavern coming to the door built within its walls. The area had not been finished yet but it had been planned to move the Administration offices further down and for the moment it was merely empty halls and offices yet to be filled by new staff. The stairwells leading downwards were completed but not in full use except the film team and maintenance crews. The pride and joy of the converted cavern besides saving costs of digging was the amount of space to house the new Vault room and heart of the ink machine. Other studios had fancy vault rooms that needed constant supervision, but Joey Drew studios had a cavern buried beneath the studio. What better place to store the films then under ground where they will be protected from the harsh weather and away from prying eyes. A perfect place to hide Bendy until he was perfected.

Joey reached the small hallway leading to the vault room and unlocked the door entering the space that housed the massive vault door. The door was a sight to behold, standing at 12 feet in diameter and several feet thick. No one could open such a door easily. Joey turned the wheel on the door unlocking it bolt by bolt, the creaks and groans of the vault door opening causing the demon in his arms to slowly stir. Joey realizing his captive was slowly waking, he quickly entered the vault room and hurried to the small doors nestled towards the back right side of the chamber. The only path to the heart of the ink machine. Joey wasted no time walking down the hallways that wound around and ultimately bellied out to another section of the cavern that housed the ink lake that was the well for the machine.

Bendy slowly stirred and once he regained his focus and realized he was somewhere different, he immediately squirmed and screamed in Joeys grasp trying to break free from the mad director. Growing tired of Bendy's pleas for Joey to release him and his frantic screams, Joey submerged the toons head under the ink to silence him. He had enough of Bendy's voice and wished to no longer hear it. The toon violently thrashing and fighting to breathe, doing his best to punch, kick or do anything to make Joey let him go. The only thoughts through Bendy's mind were 'what did I do to deserve this? Please someone anyone, help me!' Joey was unflinching as he held the toons head down watching air bubbles slowly form in the ink as Bendy was loosing air. Slowly Bendy's body grew weaker and more limp and Joey lifted the toon's head back up so he wouldn't kill him by accident. Bendy's consciousness slowly fading again as a small wish crossed his mind 'Henry, help me', after that the toon's world went black.

Joey watched the toon's strength fade and he once again slipped into unconsciousness. He tucked the demon under his arm securely and slowly waded into the ebony moat leading to the chamber housing the heart of the machine. His progress across was slow as if the ink was grabbing onto him and trying to pull him down, his only saving grace was that the fluid was not any deeper and he at least had his cane to steady himself. Joey glanced up at the heart of the machine. It looked like a far larger version of the machine that rested on the upper floors. The ink machine above made people stare and gawk at it's intimidating size, if they only saw the one below. The heart called 'the belly of the beast' by most of the GENT team including Tom had a large circular room surrounded by large silver screens meant to show case the darling devil shorts. The room had been designed to not only create the living toons but to showcase to investors the art of the studio and it's toons. This central room was like a throne room to the empire that was to be known as Joey Drew Studios, now it will serve as a prison cell until he is able to figure out what went wrong with Bendy and fix him.

Joey set Bendy down in the chair knowing full well the toon would not be moving anytime soon and used the levers and valves to lower some of the excess chains that were suspended from the ceiling. To his dismay he had no way of trying the chains off until a small pile of clasps in the corner of the room caught his attention. He hobbled over to the pile and dug within them to seek out his desired sizes and managed to secure 2 that would fit his needs. With cane and clasps in hand, he hobbled back to the loops of chain he left on the floor before the chair that housed Bendy. He grabbed the chains and attached 2 clasps to them and tightened the clasps around Bendy's wrists securing the demon. He wrapped the excess chain around Bendy's stomach to prevent him from getting out of the chair. Once he was sure that all the chains were in place Joey headed back to the levers and valves lifting the excess chain off the floor causing the chains around Bendy's stomach to tighten and the chains holding his arms to pull them up suspending his arms in the air. Bendy the Dancing Demon was now secured in the heart of the machine, and there he will remain. Joey brushed off some of the excess ink that stubbornly clung to him taking once last glance at the imprisoned toon, he huffed and slowly left the room closing the door behind him.

Joey seethed his entire trip to the upper levels, glaring holes in all the departments and floors as he climbed one by one. He finally reached his office and roughly sat at his chair exhausted from restraining Bendy and making the trip to the lower levels. The man's thoughts burned with rage about why everything seemed to be going wrong in his life. His studio that he founded with Henry that was now solely his since Henry abandoned him. He owns the toons and that now one was brought to life and questioned his ownership. It's his studio for gods sake, not Henry's. He worked himself to the bone to make the place what it is, he crawled atop mountains of people to achieve that which could not be achieved. It is his right to stand on top for all that he did to get this far, so why is everything he built falling apart now? Henry was the one that abandoned him, his toons, everything. Yet Bendy' was insistent on following his creator, a man he never met and held a high level of confidence in. Joey looked over at his phone on the edge of his desk and reached out gently pulling the device to him to make a call. He lifted the earpiece off the receiver and spun the rotary dial around a few times and waited for the line to be picked up.

“Operator? Operator?” Joey patiently waited on the line and soon heard the sounds of the line being picked up.

“Yes?” A woman's voice sounded through the ear piece.

“Yes, I'd like to place a call to the GENT Corporation the customer service branch.”

“Yes sir, one moment please” Joey heard the line cut as he waiting to be patched through.

The line buzzed for a brief moment before it came to life with a man's voice on the end. “GENT Corporation customer service how can I help you today?”

Joey schooled his hair back as he leaned against the phone “Yes my name is Joey Drew and I'd like to put in a complaint about one of your staff members.”

“I'm sorry to hear about the inconvenience sir, let me jot down the information and we will handle the problem to the best of our ability.”

The man's words were music to Joey's ears. Tom thought he could bite joey like a dog biting it's owner and leave a job half done. No. His job wasn't done and he will see it through even if he had to be forced to stay within the studio and never allowed to leave. “Yes. I'd like to file a complaint about the lead engineer and worker assigned to a requested project by the name of Thomas Connor. He had been working on a project at my studio by the name of Joey Drew Studios and not only did he not finish the project requested but he has been delaying the project repeatedly and has now walked out on it. He claimed that we were not paying him enough for his expertise despite being handsomely paid. I'd like for him to at least come back and finish the project if it were at all possible.”

Joey could heard the sounds of scratching as the man was writing down his words .“Certainly sir. I will put in the complaint with my higher ups and Mr. Connor will be dealt with accordingly.” The man responded. “I apologize for any inconvenience. Will that be all?”

“Yes sir, thank you for your help.” Joey grinned maniacally while lightly tapping his fingers on the side of the phone's body.

“No problem, have a nice day.” With parting words the line was cut ending the call.

Joey leaned forward gently placing the ear piece back on it's receiving hook before leaning back in his chair. His grin stretched wider and wider nearly rivaling the Bendy cutout in the corner of his office before he broke into a full raucous laughter. The mans voice echoing off walls of the room as he laughed at his actions, Tom will pay for his actions and perfect the machine, he now has no escape since he will loose his job if he doesn't comply. If you want to hurt someone hurt them where it hurts the most, the wallet. Joey was well aware of Allison's income and as a woman she doesn't make nearly as much as her male counterparts. Tom's income more then made up for the difference especially with him being an engineer which was already a high paying occupation. The couple will struggle if Tom's income is cut short and the only way to make a living was to stay. There is no place to run no hide, the machine will be finished or else their livelihood will be finished.

Joey slowly composed himself after his laughing fit and carefully started to gather up the remaining paperwork of the day. He opened up his drawer to grab his black book when he realized it was missing. He chuckled to himself he forgot that he was using it as one of the 6 sacrifices 'the machine is not operating at the moment so it doesn't need the book' he thought to himself while he packed the last few papers in his briefcase. He lifted himself from the desk and with cane and case in hand slowly heading out his office locking the door behind him. Joey drifted down the silent halls looking at the posters of Bendy and his friends, he vowed that the toons will be perfect no matter what. The man rounded corners till he finally reached the sacrifice room, all 6 sacrifices still sitting where Tom had left them.

Joey gingerly took his book from the pedestal causing the platform to lift back up in it's original position. He looked the book over and turned around ready to leave when something caught his eye. He looked at the pedestal directly across from his and saw the little Bendy doll sacrifice. He walked up to the doll scowling a it. It reminded him too much of the doll turned toon that escaped and is running loose in his studio. Though seeing a doll up close gave him pause, how could an object with no solid connection to Bendy say for only appearance produce a living toon? There was no reels, no sketches, no drawings or any other memorabilia used, only a doll, yet it was somehow alive just like Bendy. It was as off model as they get and while Bendy was on model in appearance he was as off model as his predecessor. This was going to be something that warranted an explanation from the failure of a mechanic. With a precise swing Joey knocked the doll off it's stand sending it flying across the room striking the wall, the little doll make a pitiful squeak upon impact and lay on the floor facing the frustrated man. Joey shot one final glare at the doll before pocketing his book, turning on his heel and leaving.

-----------Later at the Connor's---------------

Allison practically danced around her home, she couldn't wait for her husband to come home with Benny in tow. Her mind joyously going over potential introduction scenarios a mile a minute, she had even gone out of her way to cook enough for 4 people. Allison stood at the edge of her table triumphantly taking in the sight of the feast she carefully labored over, a small turkey sat in the center of the table surrounded by plates of greens, mashed potatoes and a small gravy bowl. She had even gone out to the garage and pulled out a spare fold out chair she hid on the side of the stove out of sight. Her heart beat faster when he heard the familiar sound of tires coming up the little driveway and coming to a stop. Allison all but ran to her front door throwing it open. Her smile bright and arms up at the ready to catch the little ball of energy known as Benny as he would immediately attach himself to her upon sight. However the sight she saw made her arms fall limp to her sides and her smile faded.

Tom limped out of his truck like a whipped dog completely coated in ink, his body slumped from exhaustion as he exited the vehicle. He shot her a small smile before he walked to the passenger side opening up the door and grabbed the boxes and pulling them out. He nudged the door closed and made his way up the walkway to the house. Allison silently watched him all the while, she wanted to ask him where her 'doll' was and she hoped he was inside one of the boxes that were in Tom's arms. She nudged the door open for him so he could come inside and Tom gently kissed her as he walked by before he set his keys down on the little nightstand by the door. She closed the door once he was inside and turned to watch the man take the pile of boxes to his office. She carefully followed him stopping at the doorway of the room watching him open up all the boxes and putting papers away.

One by one Tom opened up the boxes and bit by bit Allison's heart broke, Benny was in none of the boxes. She could feel her heart beating faster with dread the more he moved around with no toon in tow. Allison spun on her heel and walked as fast as she could down the hall to keep Tom from hearing her running. She snatched Tom's truck keys off the little stand before heading to his truck, her hand was shaking as she tried to unlock the door. She grabbed her hand with the other to steady herself and unlocked the door crawling in the side of the vehicle.

“Benny? Benny?!” She cried out hoping to get the toon's attention, nearly turning the truck inside out as she lifted the seats and dug through boxes and bags of tools. She hoped that she would magically lift a box or bag and the toon would launch himself at her and everything would perfect. Allison bit back her tears as her pace of rummaging the boxes slowed as grim reality set in. Benny wasn't here. Tom forgot. The dam of hope she tried to build shattered, tears poured from her eyes as sorrow overtook her.

Tom finished putting away the last of his things when he turned to look for Allison. He drifted through the house looking around in the living room and then to the kitchen. He paused at the table covered in what looked like a mini Thanksgiving feast. Was this all for him? Was it because he's finally done with the ink machine project and Allison was rewarding him? A smile crept up on his face, he couldn't believe that she would go through so much effort for him when these past two weeks he was hardly home and got to spend so little time with her. What did he do to deserve such a wonderful woman, when he hasn't been able to reciprocate the gesture?

“Allison?” Tom called out looking around the house. 'I could have sworn I saw her earlier. Where did she go?' he thought to himself as he checked all the rooms. He passed by the front door and saw that the screen door was closed but the front door itself was open and a figure sat on the porch. “Allison?”

Tom carefully stepped out the door to see Allison curled up on the porch. She had her back turned to him and her face buried in her arms. “Sweetie?” He gently rest his hand on her shoulder.

Allison looked up at Tom her cheeks red and her eyes puffy from crying, the sight before him nearly broke his heart. He rarely saw Allison cry and it was something he didn't like to see. “What's wrong?” Tom gently scooted her over sitting next to her and slowly rubbed her back gaining a few more sobs from her. He pulled her towards him gently and rest his head on hers.

“He-He wasn't brought home.” Allison whimpered out, her voice low. Her body shook as she was holding back her tears and her building anger.

Tom barely heard her and tilted his head in confusion. “Brought home?” He felt that he was forgetting something but couldn't place it.

“The doll.”

Tom paused in thought. “The doll?” Tom didn't remember any dolls.

“You didn't bring him home.” Allison's voice returning stronger, she scooted out of the mans embrace to put distance between herself and him.

“Umm what doll?” Tom paused trying to think “What exactly are you going on about?”

Allison looked up at her husband anger all over her face. “The Bendy plush toy Tom, the one you promised to bring home! Now's hes stuck there all alone!” Allison nearly shouted at the top of her lungs. She was outraged. How could Tom forget the one little thing she had asked of him? All their plans and scrambling trying to get Benny out was set aside cause Tom said he would bring him home. If she knew the man was going to forget then she wouldn't have relied on him with such an important task.

Tom flinched away from her, he had never seen her so angry so suddenly. His mind drifted back to the other day during the lunch spent together when he held a little Bendy plush that was gifted to Allison. “You mean the Bendy plush you got from a coworker? I'm sure they'll be another chance to sneak the toy out.” He tried to reassure her gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

“That's not how he'll see it.” Allison bitterly uttered before she brushed off Tom's hand off her shoulder and got up leaving him sitting outside the house.

Tom quietly sat on the porch completely baffled by Allison's swirl of emotions she threw at him. One minute she is upset and crying and the next she looks like she wants to hurt him. He didn't get it. Yeah he knew the toy was a gift but why would it get her so upset that he forgot? It's not like it was a big deal if he forgot the thing today, besides Allison still works at the studio she would have plenty of opportunities to sneak the doll out. Tom folded his hands and rested his elbows on his knees as he stared out into the evening sky. Tomorrow he will get to report back to GENT headquarters and seek out another job and hopefully one that didn't give him as many Grey hairs as the previous one. His thoughts broken by the sound of the telephone in the kitchen.

Tom sighed and got up to head back into house, he sauntered through the kitchen to the corner where the phone was loudly ringing. He leaned against the wall and picked up the earpiece off the receiver. “Hello? Thomas Connor speaking.”

“Ah, Good evening Mr. Connor. I am a representative from GENT headquarters. I have regrettably received a complaint from your previous employer about failure to complete a contract.” Tom's eye's widened upon hearing the mans voice commenting about 'failure to complete a contract' there was only one person that fits that role and that was Joey Drew. “You are to return to your previous employer and finish the work assigned. If you refuse to do so, then there will be repercussions by means of a pay cut or even termination.”

Tom froze holding the earpiece to his ear, his hand gripped the side of the phone box. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Anger building up rapidly within the man, how dare Joey screw with him. That pathetic excuse of a studio director got what he wanted and yet he is still not satisfied. Tom's voice was low and dripped with venom as he politely thanked the GENT rep and hung up the phone. He wanted nothing more then to break something and that pleasure would be reserved for Joey's neck.

Tom turned to see the table piled high with food and let out a long sigh. 'guess the celebration of finishing the stupid machine will have to wait' he thought to himself. He grabbed a plate and started to set up a portion for himself when he noted that Allison was no where to be found. Again. He got up from the table and walked into the living room to see her on the couch fast asleep. Tom ran his fingers down the sides of his face. He didn't know how to explain it but watching her little outburst over a toy was baffling and it felt like she was avoiding him now. He didn't understand it, how could a little toy be so important? Yeah sure it was a gift from a grateful staffer, but it can't be important enough to warrant such and outburst. Tom grabbed a spare blanket from the linen closet and covered Allison up for the night deciding to let her rest and hopefully she would have calmed down by morning.

Tom headed back to the kitchen and the plate of food he made up for himself suddenly didn't look so appealing, but he knew his body needed it. He grabbed a chair and sat down quietly eating the now cold meal. He appreciated his wife's gesture with the meal but she didn't have to go so far for him, he would have been happy with just a small 'congratulations' and a make one of her famous cookies but not a full course meal. He silently thanked her for her efforts and once he was done eating he carefully packed the items in containers and placed them in the refrigerator. Tom washed up the dishes, putting them away and started cleaning around the table when a fold up chair on the side of the stove caught his attention. He lifted his brow as he pulled the chair out confused as to why it had been taken out of the garage, but decided to leave it alone and slid it back in it's hiding place.

The kitchen had been restored to order and Tom sighed looking at the sleeping figure in the living room letting out a soft sigh, 'I'll talk to her in the morning'. He turned the lights off one by one and lightly kissed Allison on the forehead before he drifted to his own room to get some much needed rest. Little did he know Allison was awake and she sat up to look at the empty hallway her husband had traveled down. She knew the man was worn and beat but the thoughts of Benny not being home where he belonged and the fact that a promise had been broken had cut into her deeply. She laid her head back down as the tears once again welled up in her eyes. She had no clue what to say to Benny in the morning, and could only hope that he wouldn't take the forgotten promise too hard.

------------Meanwhile At The Studio-------------------

A Small figure sat a top a lonely throne bound by chains, the chains were as heavy as his heart. Large black tears poured from Bendy's eyes he spent hours screaming, crying and trying to free himself from his cold prison only to find that he can't move and that no one was coming for him. His inky skin was covered in bruises and cuts from his struggling within the chains, each desperate twist and turn of his body resulted in more pain till he couldn't take it anymore and lay limply on the chair. He didn't understand, what did he do wrong? What did he do to deserve such treatment? Bendy wept resigned to his fate to be left in a place where it was dark and cold, a place for him to rot away and be forgotten.

A separate figure sat inside a crate on the bottom of a shelf curled up into a tight ball. Large tears poured from Benny's eyes and he had come to the realization that he had been left behind. He sat on Allison's desk for hours out in the open keeping a ever watchful eye on her door hoping to see Tom come in and take him home. He wanted nothing more to see the man's smiling face as he scooped him up and took him out of the studio, to be welcomed by Allison in his new home. That wasn't going to happen, Tom broke his promise. The only chance to get out and it was gone. Benny wept resigned to his fate to be stuck in a place where if he is ever found he will be killed, and that Allison's protection was not guaranteed.

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

Author’s notes:

Well I hope you all have your healthy dose of pain. Though please don’t come after me with pitchforks there are quite a few of you (not naming names) that have a small “Protect the Bean” team.

#batim stitched au #benny the stitch demon #benny the stitch devil #benny the stitched devil #benny the stitched demon #bendy the demon #bendy the dancing demon #bendy the devil #bendy the dancing devil #thomas connor #allison pendle #allison connor #joey drew

21 notes · View notes

minuialeth75 · 6 years ago

Text

PUZZLE

Summary: Steve remembers sitting in his hospital bed, feeling small and miserable and unworthy. He can’t say he feels better right now, sitting on his couch.

“You’ve not been sleeping,” is the first thing Bucky says.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word count: 4.8K

Warnings: bit of angst but mostly fluffy fluff

A/N: Set right after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. So spoilers up to that movie. It’s AU after that. Happy ending, because I've been traumatised by Avengers: Infinity War.

Link to AO3

Steve’s been back in New-York for a month when the tell-tale prickling at the back of his neck begins. He’s sure he’s being watched. Not because he has the instincts of a soldier but because he retained those of a bullied scrawny kid. The ones that sometimes prevented him from being cornered somewhere deserted – somewhere Bucky wasn’t – when he least expected it.

The leads he had in Europe for Bucky have led to nowhere. Either Bucky has never been there, either he’s left without any trace. Steve could have stayed in Europe a while longer but something had pushed him back here. It was five months since he had awoken in a hospital after Bucky had saved his life. Because it couldn’t have been anyone else than Bucky. If Hydra hadn’t managed to recapture him – and Steve hoped to God they hadn’t – it meant that Bucky hadn’t had any of their drugs and mind wipes inflicted to him in a while. He had reasoned that the Winter Soldier would have most probably fallen back to some secret Hydra facility in Europe. But Bucky? Bucky could very well have stayed in an environment that hopefully was starting to feel familiar. So Steve had asked Natasha for a bit of help, which she had provided, a knowing look in her eyes. He now had a flat in Brooklyn, under the radar – except for his friends – bug free, without any spying neighbors. Well, the neighbors were probably spying on him, but it was the expected, gossipy kind of spying.

Steve is almost sure that it’s some Hydra agent – or agents – spying on him. At first he wonders why they don’t try killing him upfront but he realizes that maybe they think he knows where Bucky is, and they figure he’ll lead them to him at some point. The Winter Soldier was their prized weapon. They must be furious to have lost him.

He doesn’t want them to become aware he know they’re onto him, so he doesn’t change his routine. He just tries to not look like he’s on edge which isn’t easy, because he is. It’s not like he can do the groceries with his shield on his back, that’d look suspicious.

He turns in the fruits and vegetables aisle and there it is, the familiar prickling. He surreptitiously checks his surroundings while pretending to hesitate between two sorts of apple. No one suspicious looking, unless Hydra recruits toddlers. He sighs. Damn, they’re good.

What he doesn’t get is that it happens when he’s in public places. He never feels spied on in his flat or strolling alone in a street. It’s when he’s in a café, a supermarket, a clothing store, the garage to get his motorcycle checked, the farmers market on Saturdays… Are they hoping to drive him crazy? Because it’s sure starting to work. And he can’t ask Natasha – who’s way better than he is at spotting spies – because they would recognize her and they’d know he suspects something. He doesn’t want to live at the new Avengers compound because he loves his flat, damn it, and that would be admitting a sort of defeat. ______________________________

Steve wakes up abruptly, sitting upright in his bed, gasping for breath. He looks at the alarm clock. 2:54 am. He presses the heels of his palms on his eyes, hoping to erase what he just dreamt about. The old nightmare – a memory – had resurfaced after fighting Bucky on the helicarrier. It was Bucky falling off the train, down that deep snowy ravine. He first had the nightmare just after waking up from his 70 years sleep in the ice. But now it was made worse by the fact that he knew that Bucky had survived the fall and had been unwillingly transformed into a killing machine. If Bucky is starting to remember, he can’t imagine what kind of nightmares he must be having. Steve can’t help but think that Bucky must be all alone somewhere, maybe sleeping rough, because it’s not like he can rely on the Hydra network he had. Is he even eating properly? He doesn’t want to picture how things would have been like if S.H.I.E.L.D hadn’t been there to provide for him when he woke up, even if the notion is very bittersweet now. They hadn’t helped him out of their good hearts.

He sighs. He’s never going to fall back asleep, might as well get up and do something useful. He turns almost all the flat’s lights on, makes himself coffee, and goes to open his sketchbook.

The drawings and doodles are mostly architectural: buildings, streets, shop windows. Things that had changed since his time, things that hadn’t so much. And there’s this one drawing of Bucky. He made it while he was still in the hospital, after asking Sam if he could bring him his art supplies. Sam had gaped in surprise and he had realized he had never told him about his hobby. He had waited to be alone to put pencil to paper, intending to draw the Bucky he remembered from before the war. But in spite of himself, the Bucky of his portrait had ended up with long hair and haunted eyes. That’s when he had understood that he’d never get his old Bucky back. He had lost him a long time ago, even before rescuing him from Zola’s clutches. And experiments. Because otherwise there was no way Bucky would have survived that fall. He had been so happy to have his friend back – to have been the one to rescue him, for once – that he hadn’t seen the shadows in his eyes. He had been so exhilarated to be able to do what he had wanted to do since the beginning of the war – to fight, to make a difference – that he hadn’t paid enough attention to Bucky. Bucky who had always made time for him, had always recognized the first signs of an illness when he was still denying he felt off, who had given him almost all of his hard-earned food when he was sick, despite the fact that Bucky needed the energy to work. Steve remembers sitting in his hospital bed, feeling small and miserable and unworthy. He can’t say he feels better right now, sitting on his couch. ______________________________

Steve spends two weeks like this. Being watched and followed almost everywhere he goes and barely sleeping at night because of the nightmares. Well, the one nightmare. He’s starting to think that maybe he should talk about it to Sam. Thanks to the serum, he doesn’t need a lot of sleep, but it’s gotten to a point he’s feeling it. It’s 2 am and all the lights in his flat are on. Again. He’s about to pour himself some coffee when he thinks he hears something. Like a soft knock on his door? He shakes his head. He really has to talk to Sam. He’s finished pouring when he hears it again. What in the… He goes to his door and looks through the peephole, expecting the hall to be empty. Except it’s not. All he can see at first is a green cap that has seen better days and dark longish hair. Then the person moves slightly. He’d know that jawline anywhere. Steve unlocks the door with shaking hands. Bucky looks up, eyes searching. He’s looked better but he’s not gaunt. Apparently he’s been able to feed himself. Steve refrains from pulling him in – because he’s not sure Bucky’s not going to bolt and run away – and leaves plenty of space for Bucky to enter on his own and not feel trapped in. Steve also refrains from locking the door after him for the same reason.

“You’ve not been sleeping,” is the first thing Bucky says. Two things hit Steve at once, making him reel. The way Bucky looks at him is no longer confused or wary. It’s knowing. Bucky knows him. And… “You’ve been following me!” Steve blurts, and Bucky’s mouth thins. “Not that I minded.” Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “I just wondered who it was, that’s all.” Bucky’s face is disbelieving. “Okay, I thought it was Hydra but couldn’t figure out why they didn’t try to get me.”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to…” Bucky looks down briefly. “I was trying to remember you more and I thought that maybe if I saw you doing everyday things, it’d help.” “It’s okay.” Steve would rather cut his tongue than tell Bucky it had driven him nuts. “And… did it work?” “I’m here.” Bucky shrugs. Steve has the impression that there’s a lot Bucky’s not telling him. “How much do you remember?” Bucky looks away, jaw working, and Steve’s heart breaks a little because he realizes that, like he feared, Bucky remembers a lot of the bad along the good. Probably a lot more bad than good. “I wish it had been me instead of you,” he blurts. Bucky’s face is the picture of shock. “I mean… I was sleeping in the ice, not aware of anything. I had it easy.” “They wouldn’t have been able to use you. It wouldn’t have worked. You’re too good a person.” Steve feels like he’s been sucker punched. “Buck, what?” He has this sudden urge to touch, to reassure, but he’s not sure Bucky is okay with physical contact so he doesn’t, hands clenching at his sides. “Surely you don’t really think that?” Bucky doesn’t answer but his face says it all. Steve throws caution to the wind and steps close to his friend, who glances down. Steve’s hands are itching to make him look up. “Buck… don’t you realise? Why do you think they had to wipe your mind over and over and keep you in cryo between each mission?” Bucky looks up. Steve thinks for a moment that he’s going to step back and put some distance between them but if anything, he leans a bit closer. But there’s no real understanding on his face.

Steve realizes with a pang that the brainwashing and the memory wipes over the decades probably made him lose sense of himself, of what was happening to him and of Hydra’s plan. He must have thought they were torturing him for the fun of it. “They had to keep a tight control on you otherwise you’d have turned on them a long time ago. That’s who you are, Buck. They had to wipe your mind over and over so you wouldn’t remember the wonderful, good man you are. And even that didn’t work for long, didn’t it?” Bucky was looking at him like… Like he hadn’t in a long while. He was getting through to him.

“After… After I was sent to kill you and you recognized me… I asked them who you were… I told them I thought I knew you. They said they had to put me back in cryo, that I had been out for too long. But instead Pierce had them wipe my mind again so I could continue the mission. I remember that.”

Steve doesn’t think he has ever felt a wave of anger that strong. Bucky had started to recognize him. Pierce had been there, watching Bucky being tortured. Ordering Bucky’s torture. Pierce’s death had been too swift.

“Don’t go there,” Bucky says, touching his arm in a calming gesture. Steve is hit by how much he has missed him. By how he had felt adrift in his new world until he saw him. Suddenly he can’t stand the thought of not knowing where Bucky is.

“Spend the rest of the night here? Get a good night’s sleep?” Bucky freezes. Steve is torn because he really wants Bucky to stay but Bucky hasn’t had any free will for the past 70 years, certainly not any choice in where or when he was sleeping. “It’s not… You can leave if you want but… I’ve been worried about you.” That’s a bit low but it’s not like it’s a lie. “I… Are you sure…” Bucky’s hesitation breaks Steve’s heart. They used to share a bed for warmth without a second thought during the worst of winters or when he was sick. “You probably don’t remember but you’ve taken care of me so many times, in so many ways, since we were kids. Please, let me do the same for you.” Steve’s tone is supplicating. He doesn’t mind Bucky seeing him like that. It’s Bucky. “I think I remember some things. Like… I made you soup?” “It was supposed to be chicken soup but meat wasn’t cheap so it was more like a hot broth most of the time. But it was so good,” Steve reminisces with a strangled voice. He had never dared hoping that Bucky would be able to remember things like that.

“Look, do you want to eat something before going to bed?” Anything to distract Bucky from the fact that he’s very near tears. He doesn’t want Bucky to realize that his returning memories are important to him. He doesn’t want Bucky to put unnecessary pressure on himself to remember. He wants Bucky to feel comfortable with him. He wants Bucky to be. Just be.

Bucky shakes his head. “No, thanks. I just… I could use some sleep.” His shoulders slump a bit. The fact that Bucky seems to think he’s going to feel safe enough in his flat to sleep… “I have to warn you, I’m probably going to have nightmares.” Steve throws him a look. “Bucky, you’ve seen how I’ve been sleeping.” “Nightmares?” “Yeah.” Bucky doesn’t ask, just like Steve didn’t.

Steve heads to his bedroom on autopilot and Bucky follows him. He stops dead at the entrance, though. “I’m not gonna steal your bed. The couch looked comfortable.” Bucky jerks his thumb towards the living room. Steve suddenly realizes what he was doing, which old pattern his tired brain had fallen back to. He quickly covers up his misstep. “You sure?” “I’ve not exactly been sleeping in palaces lately. The couch will be perfect.” “Okay. Hmmm, wait a minute…” Steve goes to his dresser and gets several blankets. He remembers thinking he’d never feel warm again just after being out of the ice and he’s got a feeling that maybe Bucky is still in that stage. He eyes one of the two pillows on his bed and puts it on the pile of blankets on his arm.

“Are you trying to smother me to death?” The sarcasm in Bucky’s tone is unmistakable. Steve has missed this with Bucky, too. “Damn, you’ve uncovered my evil plan. You’re gonna sleep with that ugly cap on?” “You know what, I might,” Bucky retorts, mock saluting him with the dirty cap. Steve shakes his head in mock disapproval. “There are pyjamas in the first drawer, help yourself,” he says, pointing to his chest of drawers as he exits for the living room. “Okay, okay, coming, ya punk,” Bucky mutters and Steve is so shocked he almost trips on his way out. Bucky hasn’t called him “punk” in… decades. He quickly goes to the living room and starts to place the pillow and blankets on the couch to recover.

He feels Bucky’s presence behind him after a while and turns. “There, you’re all settled. Tell me if you ne…” Bucky’s changed into pyjama bottoms and a tee-shirt. The cap is off and he’s barefoot. He looks… soft and vulnerable, even with his metal arm visible. “If you need anything.”

“Why are you doing all this?” Bucky doesn’t say “I tried to kill you” but Steve hears it all the same.

“Because you’re my friend and you…” Steve was going to say “you need me” but he figures a whole bunch of people at Hydra must have used this line on him. “It’s my role to take care of you. It’s my turn, pal.” Bucky looks at him, his eyes a bit too bright. Steve says nothing more. ______________________________

After hesitating, Steve leaves his bedroom’s door open. After the sounds of Bucky settling in, the living room is quiet. Steve choses to believe it’s a good sign. Steve first thinks he’s going to pretend sleeping and read instead, but in the end, he changes into his own pyjamas and lies down. He falls asleep without even realizing it. _____________________________

Something wakes Steve up. Which comes as a shock, because it means he fell asleep in the first place. His heart leaps in his chest when he realizes that there are noises coming from his living room. He half stumbles from his bed but then his brain comes fully online and he remembers that Bucky is here. Bucky stayed. Steve wastes no time in leaving his bedroom, padding barefoot towards the noises.

There also are delicious smells, Steve notices as he’s met by the sight of Bucky in his open plan kitchen, still in pyjamas. Making pancakes. There’s also coffee brewing. The spectacle is achingly familiar. Bucky was almost always the one doing the cooking, because his Ma had taught him to make miracles with few things.

“The state of your fridge and cupboards is appalling,” Bucky says without turning, adding another pancake to the already impressive pile. “Today was groceries day. I’m surprised you even found eggs.”

Bucky turns to answer. His eyes widen. “Are you really wearing a Captain America tee-shirt?” Steve can feel his ears reddening. He didn’t really think about what he was wearing before coming to the kitchen. “That was someone’s idea of a funny gift. I can’t wear it anywhere else.” “You don’t say.” Bucky’s tone is sarcastic.

Now that he can see Bucky’s face, Steve realizes that the dark marks beneath his eyes are still there. His heart plummets. “You didn’t sleep,” he says, hoping his voice isn’t reproachful because it’s certainly not how he feels. And he doesn’t want Bucky to lie to make him feel better. “No, I didn’t. Strange new place, strange people…” Bucky smiles wryly. “Buck…” “I lied down and I relaxed. Really relaxed. Steve, do you… Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to relax? Well, I don’t. I don’t really remember. But it must be long.”

That’s the most words Bucky has said to him since his mask fell months ago. It’s also the first time Bucky has called him “Steve” since… He won’t go there. Instead of thinking about what Bucky can’t do, he’ll focus on what he can, which is feeling safe enough in his flat with him to not be on high alert. “I… You’re right. I shouldn’t have said…” Bucky gestures dismissively. “It came from a good place. You slept.” The corners of his mouth turn up. He puts the plate piled high with pancakes on the table, which he has also set. Steve sits down, a bit shaken by the familiar domesticity of the scene. Bucky brings the coffee pot on the table, filling the mugs. The pancakes are drowning in butter. Bucky follows Steve’s look. “Yeah, couldn’t find any corn syrup. Good thing we don’t need to worry about cholesterol, right?” Steve huffs a laugh. He knows he hasn’t answered Bucky’s remark about his good night’s sleep. He thinks he knows why he was able to sleep. “You know, I think I slept because… because I knew where you were. And that you were safe.”

Bucky, who’s already wolfing down a pancake, gulps audibly, staring at him. Their eyes meet across the table, and hold. Then Bucky looks down, his brow crinkling. It’s cute. And wow, where did that thought come from? Steve takes a sip of coffee, not at all hiding behind his mug.

“Steve…” Bucky’s tone – and the use of his first name – are more than enough for Steve to look up. “Sometimes I remember the small things – like how to make pancakes – but I don’t always remember the big ones… or sometimes I think I remember but it’s… distorted and incomplete.” Steve nods his understanding, trying to keep his expression neutral because right now he wishes he could go and take out Hydra. All of Hydra. Slowly and painfully. “Back before… before the war… and… during the war… Were we…” Bucky’s eyes are resolutely fixed on the table. “Were we more than friends?”

That’s… unexpected. As if Bucky had pressed some sort of button, Steve’s mind starts replaying years of memories of him – with him. Always. The joy of Bucky offering to live with him after his Ma’s death. He had tried to refuse but he was glad Bucky had all but barged into his life. The gripping fear of Bucky being enlisted and leaving for a war Steve couldn’t follow him to. Bucky had also been in his thoughts when he had agreed to undergo the serum experiment. The searing pain of Bucky tumbling down that ravine, revisiting him every night in his nightmares. His very last thought for Bucky an instant before his plane crashed, thinking that at least he hadn’t had to wait too long to join him. The feeling of utter emptiness when he had awaken in that fake room and realised everyone he knew was gone, that he didn’t join Bucky after all, that he wouldn’t for a long time. The permanent hole at the center of his chest that nothing could seem to fill. The mask of the Winter Soldier falling and… BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyBucky. Like a beam of light into his heart. The truth slams into Steve and it’s so simple and so genuine he doesn’t understand why he didn’t see it before. There’s a wooshing sound in his ears and he belatedly realises it’s the sound of his heart trying to beat out of his chest.

Steve’s eyes focus on the present. Bucky’s head is bowed, his shoulders hunched forwards. Steve realizes he’s probably been too long in answering. Reacting even. He can’t stand seeing him like this. “Bucky?” he softly calls. Bucky looks up and the resignation in his eyes cuts like a knife. “That’s okay. I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t know why…” Oh, the irony. Bucky with his fractured memory is more perceptive than he’s been. Steve can’t help but wonder what kind of memories has led him to ask that question. Or maybe it was a feeling? Did Bucky… “Let me set a ground rule” – and in this moment Steve knows that he means for the years to come, because he has no intention of letting Bucky out of his sight ever again – “you can ask me anything. Anything at all you don’t remember, anything you don’t understand.” Bucky’s look is focused, laser-like. He nods. “We… we weren’t more than friends.” Steve sees Bucky’s face falling a little. In that moment he wishes he could have given him another answer but that would have been lying about their past, and Bucky has been lied to enough. “Can I… why did you ask?” Steve knows it’s unfair to ask him that. He knows he’s being selfish. Just like he knows he’s trying to avoid staring at Bucky but somehow still notices the infinitesimal expressions on his face, the way his hair softly frames his jaw, the stormy grey of his eyes, how his own tee-shirt fits him.

Bucky lets out a chuckle but it’s a dark one and Steve immediately understands that he pushed too far. “I’m sorry but no. I can’t… I can’t answer you, okay?” Bucky must be thinking Steve is playing games with him. Steve can’t let him think that for a moment more. Not now, not when he’s just realized that he… He takes a deep breath. If he crashes and burn, so be it. At least he’s got thicker skin than Bucky right now.

“Buck…” Steve gingerly puts his hands on top of Bucky’s. Slowly, to give him the time to avoid his touch if he wants. It’s the first time he touches Bucky since… God, last time was probably a quick hug before their last mission together. Before Bucky fell from that cursed train. He’s not… He’s not going to count the blows they exchanged fighting. He gets the horrible feeling that Bucky hasn’t been touched in a gentle manner in 75 years. Bucky doesn’t recoil. He just stares in fascination at Steve’s flesh hand on his metal one. He looks up, bewildered.

“Stevie?” Steve bites the inside of his cheek to not react to the use of that name, and he tastes blood. He can’t bring himself to move his hands away and Bucky doesn’t shake them off.

“Buck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see it sooner. I didn’t realize what it was. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. I thought I loved you like a brother, but… When you enlisted and went to the war without me…” “You were jealous because you wanted to fight too…” “That, and also… You were going where I couldn’t follow, Buck. I was worried sick. So when Dr Erskine told me about the serum…” Bucky’s eyes grew wide. “You did this to follow me? You could have died, you fucking idiot. It could have killed you.” “It didn’t. It didn’t, and I found you again. Buck, you were my very last thought when the plane went down. I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to be with you again. So it wasn’t so bad, dying. I don’t think that’s how I should have felt if you were only my friend.”

Bucky smiled tremulously. Steve had missed Bucky smiling. He felt Bucky’s hands shaking slightly under his – and how could the metal one shake?

Bucky inhaled deeply. “I asked because of how I felt after spying on you for a couple of weeks. I got this weird sensation in my chest the first time I saw you smile – you were sitting at this café terrace, drawing. I thought I was coming down with something, but… I realised I felt it when you looked happy. I realized the sensation was me being happy too. The more I observed you, the more stuff I remembered, bits and pieces. Made me think we were… I could have killed you on that helicarrier, Steve. You threw your goddamn shield away, trusting me not to kill you. I was… completely lost. I didn’t know what to think.” “You saved me.” “I couldn’t let you die, and I didn’t understand why.” Steve feels Bucky’s right hand going relaxed and steady under his and he becomes aware that his thumb is gently stroking Bucky’s knuckles. Probably has been for a while. “Buck… I’m so sorry I failed you.” “What bullshit are you on about?” “I should have seen… I should have realized that they had already done something to you after rescuing you. I was too busy fighting. I was too happy I was finally fighting, making a difference. I should have seen you weren’t quite the same.” “And… what would you have done about it?” “I… I could have sent you back home.” “The hell you’d have. I’d have never left your side.” “Then I should have… I should have been more insistent on going to Europe sooner, to where the fight was, instead of parading on stage in that ridiculous costume for months. You wouldn’t have been taken prisoner. They wouldn’t have…” “I’d be dead, Steve. If they hadn’t experimented on me, I’d be long gone right now. Buried deep in that fucking ravine.” “I… What they did to you… what they made you do… I don’t have the right to be glad that…” “You were always too damn selfless for your own good. The past’s the past, Steve. I have you now. Wouldn’t change that.” Steve realizes that it’s now Bucky who’s holding his hands. “And you looked damn good in that costume. I’ve seen the films at the museum.” Steve knows he’s blushing to the tip of his ears. “God, Buck…” “I like it when you look at me like that.” “Like what?” “When you don’t look like you’re searching for traces of someone else.” “I wasn’t…” Steve interrupts himself because he knows Bucky’s right. “Sorry.” “That guy’s no longer really completely here, you know. I think he hasn’t been for a while.” “I… I know. I know. It’s not like I haven’t changed at all myself. But I’m still Steve. And you’re still Bucky.” Steve smiles tentatively. “Yeah. Bits and pieces. Puzzle. I still don’t really know.” “We can discover that.” Steve doesn’t say “together”, but it’s heavily implied. “We still friends?” Steve shakes his head. Bucky’s fingers tense on his hands. “Much more than friends.” Bucky smiles. Genuinely smiles. It’s like basking in the sun’s light after 75 years under the cold ice. “I don’t know if I know how to do that,” Bucky says. “Me neither. We can learn together?”

The coffee and the pancakes are long cold and forgotten when Bucky tentatively, gently, but passionately touches his lips to Steve’s.

#Stucky #Steve x Bucky #Steve/Bucky #Fanfiction

21 notes · View notes

lesbenoits · 8 years ago

Note

*gasp* superhero cressder au with cinder as this amazing superhero who cress falls madly in love with!!!!!

aight so this should probably be a lot longer so i could fit these plot points in but i wanted to finish it so i’ll just list them here

the man is glamoured as peony, who was killed by levana, the woman in the last scene

cinder was an engineer at nasa and she got caught in an experiment and got prosthetic limbs & her lunar powers got triggered. she was part of a secret society working to take down levana but was moved to the front lines instead of just gathering intel because of her gifts

cress is still immune to glamour, which is why she managed to get to close

also i have no idea how reporters or being a reporter works whoops

ignore any plot holes

it’s lowkey really shitty hngnjhjjj

Lunar X was an enigma.

Like the moon, she was only seen running the streets after hours, flashes of orange-ish light from streetlights reflecting off her slick, black suit. Rarely seen and even more rarely photographed, she blended in with the shadows themselves, disappearing before she could be praised – or arrested. Even if the mysterious superhero wasn’t spotted at the scene, she always left a trail of incapacitated criminals in her wake. She was called a revolutionary, a vigilante, a hero, and a villain, but hell if she wasn’t an icon.

Cress was a little bit in love, and when an opportunity came she jumped at her chance.

“I’ll do it!” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop and rethink.

“Ms. Darnel?”

Oh god, what had she blurted out. “Yes?”

“You want to take the Lunar X story?” Her boss, an older man with a permanent scowl and a body shaped like a dumpling, looked incredulous.

“Um, yes! I can do it.” Cress bobbed her head up and down. “Yep. Lunar X.”

Her boss rubbed his temples, shooting her another skeptical glance. “Well, It’s your career. Crash and burn if you want to.” He thrust a file had her and shooed her out of his office. “Go! Chop, chop, you don’t have any time to waste with a story like that.”

“Yes, sir,” Cress mumbled under her breath, clutching the file to her chest and all but sprinting out of his office.

Nobody wanted the Lunar X story. In the beginner, seasoned reporters had clambered to take on their first superhero, fighting for the coveted piece of new, hot news. It didn’t take long for the excitement to dwindle, as it was impossible to get more than a blurry photograph and quick quip on the newest criminal behind bars. Readers wanted more. A clear picture, an interview, a tantalizing scandal.

And if Lunar X was nothing else, she was elusive.

…

When people don’t know the face behind the mask, they get scared. Is Lunar X really on our side? We don’t know anything about her. Is she even human? She could be a robot, or an alien.

“Or a Russian spy,” Cress had heard her co-worker whisper.

She had rolled her eyes. “Really, Ed?”

“You never know,” he insisted. Eyes flickering from side-to-side, he lowered his voice. “For all we know, we could be Russian spies.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

He raised an eyebrow. “They’re very secretive.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll be careful.”

Cress might not know Lunar X, but she knew what kind of person the masked hero was. Running on caffeine and crazed energy, she spent many nights with her computer hooked up to dubiously legal equipment to help her do definitely not legal things. Like hacking into Lunar X’s government file. Sipping jet black coffee, grimacing at the brightness of the screen, she squinted at the miniscule file. There was only basic information and wild speculation. Nothing Cress didn’t already know. She clicked the attached photos with mild interest. All blurry and unfocused shots of a dark figure on top of buildings and hiding in dark alleys. The occasional frame showed her mid-fight, but these pictures were just as cryptid as the others, shedding no light on Lunar X’s identity or motives.

She pulled together detailed profiles of all Lunar X’s targets, drawing information from anywhere and everywhere she could get access to: private Facebook profiles, police records, newspaper articles, friends and family’s accounts. They were of all different backgrounds, races, and ages and no obvious correlation could be drawn. Cress even ran them through fancy (stolen) software in an attempt to draw conclusions from the extensive profiles, revealing nothing she hadn’t already known.

For weeks, her research came to a stand still. Maybe Lunar X was just another frustrated citizen taking things into her own hands. Cress didn’t believe it, even as she told herself to let it go. There had to be something more. Lunar X didn’t seem like a rogue vigilante, her movements were too orchestrated.

“A terrorist?” Cress shrieked in disbelief. “She’s not a terrorist!”

“Of course you think that. You have a picture of her as your phone lockscreen.”

Cress squeaked. “I do not!” She blushed, covering her phone. “How do you know that?”

“People are sick of hearing only praise for her,” another co-worker explained. “I guess they decided to look at it from another angle.”

“But she catches criminals! She’s helping!” Cress’s eyes scanned the paper, words popping out at her. Violent. Deranged. Uncontrollable. “And she doesn’t kill anybody. Terrorist? Really?”

Her co-worker shrugged, taking a bite of his bagel. “It’s not like anyone knows what she’s doing,” he said, walking away.

Cress unclenched her fists. After spending so much time looking in Lunar X, she felt close to the masked superhero, despite never having met face to face. She wasn’t a bad person, and Cress would prove it.

“Russian spy, I’m telling you.” Ed spun around in his wheely chair. “They’re everywhere.”

“Ed, shu–” Cress froze. “Wait. Say that again?”

“They’re everywhere?”

“No, the other part.” Cress’s fingers itched for her laptop.

“Uh, Russian spies?”

“Spies! Ed, you’re a genius!” Cress swooped him up in a hug. “Um, sorry.”

He was still shell-shocked. “I am?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it before,” Cress muttered to herself. “Lunar X? The targets? God, I’m an idiot.” She stopped, jumping to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I have to go!”

“But– why? Where are you going? Did I do something?”

“I’ve, um, got a story! I won’t be back!” Cress dashed towards the door, knocking over someone’s coffee. “So sorry, but I have to go!”

She slammed the door to her apartment, cracking open her laptop on the middle of the floor. How could she have missed it? Cress had been thinking of Lunar X as a lone entity, working on her own. Lunar X was just a piece of the puzzle. Five hours later, she stretched, her back screaming from being hunched over for the last five hours, but it was all worth it. Lunar X was no longer a conundrum.

…

Cress shivered in the cold, tapping her frozen feet. Her bag held her laptop, a notepad, loose lip gloss, and an assortment of pens. She gripped her phone tighter, the camera poised to take pictures. A shiver ran through her that wasn’t from the chilly air. This was the closest she had ever been to Lunar X. That is, if she was right –

Her thoughts were immediately cut off by the shattering of a glass window and an alarm piercing the night air. She swore under her breath, running towards the disruption. This had to be it, she couldn’t be wrong. A gunshot went off and Cress almost stopped in her tracks. She wasn’t meant to be in the thick of things; she liked being safe at home, preferably with a strong wifi connection.

“You are a daring reporter,” she whispered to herself, “dashing towards a crime scene, determined to get your story. You are not afraid.”

A slight figure bolted out from behind a neighbouring building, vaulting gracefully over a pile of shattered glass, darting inside the crumbling structure.

Cress started breathing just in time to snap a few photos.

“Okay,” she told herself. “You’re Lois Lane, and you’re going to get to a safe vantage point, and you’re going to meet your Superman. And get your story,” Cress added as an afterthought.

She peered in the door, glancing hesitantly around the doorframe. Grunts and the sickening sound of flesh against concrete could be heard. Cress grimaced, inching away from the opening to the building. Her heart beat faster than she thought was possible. She wasn’t sure if it was from the exertion or the terror or the fact that she was about twenty fucking yards from Lunar X.

Another sickening crack followed by a feminine yelp came from inside the building. And then the scream.

It was a tortured scream, lasting a horrible ten seconds before cutting off with a sob. Without thinking, Cress ran inside, adrenaline pumping through her.

She burst into a room full of shattered glass and dents, breathing heavily. Lunar X knelt on the concrete floor, staring in horror at the man lying before her. Cress didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, except a jagged scar running down one cheek and his state of unconsciousness, but Lunar X looked at him like he was a recurring nightmare. Maybe he was.

“You’re okay?”

Lunar X snapped out of her horrified trance, eyes snapping to Cress. “What are you doing? How can you see–” she broke off. “You need to leave, right now.”

Cress blinked. “Um. Why?”

“They’re coming,” she hissed cryptically.

An explosion from behind the building answered Cress’s question. “Shit,” the superhero whispered, straightening up. “Trust me, okay?”

“Why do I need to– oh my god!” Lunar X had scooped her up and they were going inhumanly fast. Cress clung to her, squeezing her eyes shut. She could hear the air whistling beneath her skirt and she decided she didn’t want to know what Lunar X was doing. A few jolts went through Cress as Lunar X landed hard on some sort of surface. They came to an abrupt halt, Lunar X setting Cress down in an alleyway close to her office building.

“Why were you even there?” Lunar X demanded, bent over, out of breath.

“I’m, um, a reporter.” Cress brushed her windblown hair out of her face. She could still feel strong arms wrapped around her when she glanced at Lunar X. She was smaller in person, and Cress could see her chest rising and falling, her ponytail messy and – was that a grease splotch on her forehead? All this grounded Cress to the moment, because, holy shit, she had just been carried from building to building by her superhero idol.

“Lois Lane, huh?” A smile quirked at her lips as and her eyes flashed to Cress, sending heat coursing through her.

“Something like that.” Cress shuffled her feet, giving Cinder a small smile, feeling subdued now that she was finally in her hero’s presence. “So– does that mean you’re Superman?”

“If you say so.”

Cress blinked. Was she flirting? Had Cress been transported to another universe in which things like this actually happened?

A small gadget on Lunar X’s silver arm blinked and she swore under her breath. “I have to go.” She straightened up, wincing a little. “My time is up.” Before Cress could get another word out, she was hoisting herself up a ladder hanging off the side of the building.

“Wait – Cinder!” The name slipped out before Cress could stop herself.

Lunar X turned around, shock glinting in her eyes. “How do you know my name?”

“I know the rest too,” Cress bluffed. It wasn’t completely untrue, she had a pretty good idea of what was going on. Deep in the depths of the dark web, she had learned about a secret organization and a hierarchy, arching over all of history. At least a few hundred year back, anyway. For a moment, when Lunar X hesitated, Cress seized up with panic. “And your glamour doesn’t work on me. I don’t know why.”

Lunar X sucked in a breath. “Shit.”

Cress held back the urge to pump her fists. She was right! “Suck it, Ed.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Um, one question, though. You’re not a Russian spy, right?”

Lunar X raised an eyebrow. At least, Cress thought she did. It was too dark to really tell. “I’m from India, not Russia.”

“Right! I thought so. Um, okay. You have to go now.”

“Yeah,” Lunar X breathed. “I do.” She continued up the ladder like she was weightless, unaware of the concrete so many feet below her. She glanced back only once, her expression hidden by the shadows, before disappearing into the night.

Cress let out a sigh, a helpless smile spread across her cheeks. She didn’t have the answers she had come for, but she had a sense that this wasn’t the end of her story. That their paths would cross again in the tangled web of life. A giddy giggle escaped her and she spun around a little, clutching her bag to her chest. The alley was cold and damp and water dripped down the back of her neck, but Cress felt warm.

…

Really, the second time ran into each other, no pun intended, it was an honest to god accident, despite what some Cinder might say in the future. Cress had turned in her article earlier, complete with the photos she had snapped and a fictionalized version of how the night had ended, excluding the ride in Lunar X’s arms. She sipped her coffee, warming her hands against the cup and contemplating life and the feeling of Cinder’s biceps. It was a tad warmer, and more people were about and about, looking at their phones and holding hands as they walked the streets of the city. The feeling was quite surreal. Cress had almost forgotten her previous near death experience.

She almost wished Lunar X would appear out of nowhere, as she always did, swoop in and save Cress from the clutches of a supervillain. But Lunar X never showed up in the daylight.

…

Be careful what you wish for, Cress realized as havoc reigned in city’s narrow streets, people screaming and stampeding to get out of the way of the fight taking place a few blocks away. Bits of concrete rained down and the ground itself seemed to shake. While everyone else ran away, Cress ran towards the chaos.

The fight was spectacular, albeit terrifying. Lunar X seemed to have shrunk in size next to the gigantic feminine figure advancing towards the slight superhero. She cackled, flickering in and out of focus. The villain was dressed in a stunning suit, but looked very plain. Despite her size, she didn’t seem worthy of the terror she elicited from the fallen hero. Glamours, Cress realized. She was glamoured too. The entire scene was disorientating and stunning, but Cress only had eyes for Cinder, slowly rising to her feet from her crumpled state. Get up, Cress begged silently. Get up!

The woman’s stringy brown hair fell, covering her scarred face as she advanced towards Cinder, still struggling to her feet. There was chaos all around, but Cress realized a streetlight had come loose and had begun to wobble. She screamed a warning, but with the chaotic symphony of panic around them, Cinder didn’t hear. It began to fall, and without thinking Cress dropped her bag, slammed into Cinder’s fallen form, pushing her out of harm’s way. The post landed with a sickening crack on the gigantic woman.

Cress realized she was lying on top Cinder, whom was looking up at her with awe and gratitude in her eyes. She blushed. “Who’s Superman now?”

“Definitely you.” She let out a shuddering sigh of relief. “How did you find me?”

“I didn’t,” Cress breathed. “You found me.”

“Suure.”

“You did!”

“Uhuh.”

There was a moment of tension, and Cinder leaned in, kissing Cress gently and tenderly, her hands soft of on Cress’s waist. They stayed like that for several long moments, the world ceasing to exist as they kissed, soft and slow. They broke apart, their foreheads together and Cress smiled against Cinder’s lips.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Um, what’s your real name? Seeing as you know mine.”

“Cress,” she said. “Cress Darnel.”

“Cress Darnel,” Cinder said, rolling the words around. “Pretty. Like you.” Then she blushed a little, ducking her head.

Cress was a little bit in love with the way Cinder said her name, like she was tasting it, running in over and over her tongue. Maybe she was more than a little in love.

#don't read this sakdksjj;;;#cressder #mine.fic #ask #anon #tlc #the lunar chronicles

15 notes · View notes