#like 40 feet tall and my bunk was at the ceiling

[astraleulogy]

finally remembered the dream i had last night

[extremelyblackandwhite]

heiress - 2

pairing: bucky barnes x oc!reader

a/n: this is part two of a four part series based on a song lyrics sent to me by an amazing anon with a reader based on my favourite oc. hope you enjoy xx

“letters strewn across your bedroom floor. such beautiful words but you can’t remember who they’re for“

previous chapter

His memories had always been foggy. Even after slipping from HYDRA’s control, his memories were still foggy. He could remember almost everything through a sepia-like filter yet his memory as even more distorted the moment he looked at her. He had this gut wrenching feeling he had known her yet his foggy red tinted memories gave him no answer as to who this woman was and whenever he tried digging deeper into his subconscious. he would just get tired. Almost as if his own mind did not allow him to know her but he knew he must’ve seen her face or her figure somewhere and if he hadn’t then he must’ve known her in another life because whenever he looked at her, he felt comfortable. It was an odd sensation to explain, a deja-vu like feeling, a feeling which made him want to run up to her and held her into his arms but she was a stranger. Everything was strange here even Wanda who despite him having shared a few words with, looked so distant.

      - When did Wanda have time to have two ten year olds? -  Sam threw himself to one of the beds in the room the two of them had been assigned to. Sharon had gotten a different room yet Sam and Bucky were bunking together like 13 year old campers. - Also can she resuscitate people now? I mean, he’s an android but nevertheless. Oh my god, how did an android and a human had kids?

     - Do you trust them? Sharon isn’t too convinced.

     - Well, Wanda fought by our side so did Vision and Fury and Hill are with them. Unless they all turned evil, I think we can somewhat trust them. 

     - I don’t know, Sam. I ... I don’t trust the girl.

     - They’re almost all girls, cyborg brain. Be specific. Did specificity did not exist in the 40s?

     - The one who dropped her gun first.

     - Maybe, she’s Pierce’s kid or so says Sharon. Maybe you used to babysit her. 

     - No, I ...

     - Sergeant Barnes ... - Monica knocked on the door before allowing herself into the bedroom. - There were some letters in the file written by you. We believe it is not our right to intrude onto your privacy so we wanted to give them to you. 

     - God, every time I discover something about you, it makes you sound even older than you are. - Sam leaned against the bed frame as Bucky warringly took the letters from the Monica who left the room once her job was done.

The paper had grown old with time, yellowing around the borders of the Red Room envelopes they used to give the girls who behaved well enough so they could send their parents some news. He remembered stealing a few to try and write any memories which came through so he wouldn’t forget them when the officers erased him. Somehow they always found the letters yet there it was in his hands, a big stack of letters which seemingly hadn’t been destroyed. It was his handwriting that much he knew, however he did not know who Daisy was, he did not know who had the name to which the letters were addressed to. 

     - Who did you write letters to? Steve?

     - Daisy. - he didn’t mean to reply but those words just seemed to flow naturally from him and he was entranced by the name in his handwriting alone. 

The snow felt step onto the ground, it was cold, cold enough everyone was wearing jackets inside despite the heater being on and he seemed to have been transported back into his memories. Everyone was cold and covered but not her and no matter how hard he tried to make up her face, it was fogged up in his memory but he could see her, he could see her in her strap black ballet top and worn out pink ballerina shoes which she had particularly asked Madam B not to be replaced. He could see her, but he couldn’t make her out, he didn’t know who she was. 

    - Daisy, you’re going to get sick. - Bucky could hear himself speak but he wasn’t speaking, he wasn’t there, he was just reliving a memory. 

   - Don’t call me Daisy. I hate it when you call me Daisy.

   - Hey, cyborg brain? Are you ok? - Sam’s voice was echoey until he touched his shoulder and then he was harshly brought back to reality. - Don’t bug out on me, I don’t know how to reset you. 

    - Yeah, just thinking.

The night was long, too long and he spent every minute of it reading every single letter he had written this woman until they were all spread out across the floor of the room; but we loved with a love that was more than love me and my Daisy, I’m sorry Daisy, I miss you Daisy. Daisy, Daisy, Daisy, Daisy. He had read that name more than a hundred times and he still couldn’t remember who she was yet he knew he loved her or that he had loved her. The more he tried to remember it, the more his head hurt, the more the blurry memories turned red. He didn’t known who this woman who had meant so much to him was. He shoved those letters under the bed and left the room while Sam was sleeping. He need to clear his head, clearly this woman hadn’t meant that much to him if he couldn’t remember her, but he knew it was a lie. He knew she mattered.

The sounds of his shoes against the floor made him forget about her, her the ghost of a woman he loved. He continued to walk, watching the walls surrounding him until a glass wall broke the continuous light blue of the walls. He peeked through it and there it was, the woman he felt he knew in a black suit on pointe. He was hypnotised by the constant plié to on pointe as if it was nothing. Bucky went around, opening the door to watch her more closely.

   - How do you do it? - he asked, taking her by surprise. Turning around, she had fear in her eyes as she took a step back, something Bucky was used to. It no longer hurt as it used to. - The feet thing. I ... my sister used to watch ballet and they always did that. 

   - Oh, uhm ... it’s all about supporting your body weight onto your toes and wearing the right pair of shoes.

   - I’m Bucky, by the way ... Uhm, thank you for not killing us. 

   - I’m Y/N. - she extended her hand to shake his. - Is the room alright? Do you need anything?

   - Do you know who Daisy is? Sharon said your father is Pierce so I thou ...

   - I don’t. - she interrupted him. - I don’t really know a lot about my father’s private life. I’m sorry.

   - You’re too early for ... - Yelena entered the room in tactical gear, stopping once she saw someone other than Y/N. Her eyes searched for Y/N’s who were begging for help. - Fight training. Closed off fight training.

   - Right, I ... I was just looking for the kitchen. - he said but was still gazing her eyes

   - I’ll take you. - the blonde Russian gave him a tight smile, pointing towards the door and exiting with him.

The air that seemed to have been previously held on her chest came out almost in a wave and she felt herself slide against the mirrored wall until she was sat on the floor, head looking at the tall ceiling as if she were in catatonic state, and maybe she was, she didn’t know. How could she know if whenever he spoke to her all she could hear was that piano, that damned low piano and the mirage of him, the mirage of the life she wanted with him in Westview. She looked at her shoes, worn out, the pink satin which one was shiny new had black worn out spots over where there used to be an embroidered daisy. She was glad it was gone, she was glad it wouldn’t return. Nevertheless, she could still feel her ... Agatha, poking at whatever protected her mind. She could almost hear her calling out to her with promises of all she wanted. They had always gone after her ... the weak link, the one whose will was easy to break. It was no mistake the red room had given her the nickname Daisy out of all flowers they could’ve picked. She was easily broken, manipulated to be a strong fighter but easily broken by those who knew. She wondered if the Red Room was still out looking for her, looking for Yelena ... she wondered what control they still held over her, what control her father had over her. Both knew she was alive, both had tortured her with tapes of ... him. They knew she was alive, it was only a cat and mouse game until they took her away. Their experiment. Their unsuccessful successful experiment. 

    - God, he’s awfully chattier than I remember. - Yelena walked into the room, eyes lowering to where she was. - Who told you to take a break? Get up and fight me. 

    - He knows.

    - Chill, Y/N. He didn’t even know what a waffle maker was until now. He’s not gonna break through whatever you made Wanda do to him which, by the way, I’m against. - the blonde sat next to her. - You let Monica hand him the letters, of course he’s gonna wonder who Daisy is. Terrible name.

   - I’m sorry, Yelena, not everyone had the pleasure of having the code name Hyacinth. -  Y/N teased.

   - It was a great code name. The best code name.

   - No, it wasn’t.

   - Want the morning off? I could spar with Monica or Alexei. - Yelena gave her a kind look and an offer she couldn’t refuse. Last thing she wanted to do was to spar with anyone in her mindset. Yelena understood it, her too having dealt with her own trauma inflicted by the Red Room. In times like these, both girls had learned to leave each other alone to cope with whatever demons they had.

Y/N dragged her knees up to her chest like a kid, hair falling in front of her eyes as she fished for the dog tags under her shirt. She ripped them from her neck, letting the old metal tags slide through her fingers. She clenched the memorabilia of past emotions against her chest. 

  - Yelena said you were gloom. - Wanda walked into the room still in her pyjamas. - Besides your shield is down and your thoughts are loud. You ought to learn to control it someday.

  - Well, you seem to love getting in people’s minds.

  - Not yours. Whenever I get the particular pleasure of doing it  ... - she sat next to her, still in her dressing gown. - You’re either feeling guilty or in such pain. I think it’s time you speak about it.

  - She’s still in my mind ... Agatha. She lingers. 

   - What does she know? She couldn’t even give you an actually accurate mirage of Bucky. Two arms? Please. 

   - She’s gonna be after us non-stop, Wanda. She will pair forces with Ross to get what she wants and then all of this will be as worthless as it was. With Zemo if she needs too ... 

   - She can’t get to you, okay? - Wanda gave her a kind smile, the type of smile she gave the twins whenever one of them was sad but this time it didn’t help. She could hear her voice calling out for her, she could see the purple tint in her nightmares and while Monica and Wanda had learned to deal with it, mostly ignoring it, she could fell the witch’s influence in her stronger than ever. 

She remained laid against the wall of the training room even after Wanda was gone. She looked at the ceiling, fingers toying around with the humidity in the air making it fall onto the ground like rain. Fitting, she thought. Yet again, whatever she could do always seemed to mirror whatever she thought or felt like. It was past midday when she made her way from the gym to her bedroom to get dressed. She knew better than to leave the hex unaccompanied but what surrounded it was wilderness and she always felt at peace in wilderness, the soft sounds of birds chirping and the water falls always made her forget the screams from the red room, the purple aura from Agatha ... it just didn’t make her forget Bucky. She had always wanted to see him again, to apologise ... to ... she didn’t know what to do, she just knew she got tongue tied whenever she saw him, the guilt eating her alive.

    - Well, hello dear. - Y/N turned around, eyes shining white behind her iris as Agatha stood there in her purple peplum dress. - There’s no need for a fight, dear. I just want to talk.

    - Well, I don’t ... - she took a fighting stance but the woman merely shrugged.

    - I just came to give you a shoulder to cry. Word on the street is that your Bucky is around. Isn’t that wonderful, dear?

    - Based on your illusion of him, I’d think you wouldn’t even recognise him. 

    - You know, you’ll always be my favourite out of the three girls. You and I are very similar, my dear. Besides, I can help you, I know how your powers work and it’s not for cheap tricks. I can help you with him, I know what it is like to have someone take the person who you love the most be taken for you but I can help you, dear. You and me, we can get what we want, what it’s rightfully yours.

     - He’s not mine. - she meant her words to come strong, swiftly like the thunderstorm winds yet they faltered, as if they were only now registering in her mind. 

     - You know, dearest ... the good thing about the soul stone is that it made you who you are. The bad thing is, you’re not gonna be able to control what it gave you if your soul is in disarray. The more your mind battles, the more your ability will take hold of you.

     - What do you mean?

     - Why do you think Wanda got more powerful when things were falling apart in Westview?

     - Y/N! - Monica’s voice made Agatha disappear in a cloud of purple mist. Y/N turned her head to the side to see Monica make her way through the trees, decked out in her fighting outfit. - What are you doing here? You missed the early morning brief and you’re in ... whatever you’re wearing.

     - I just needed some time off. - she smiled. - Why are you in battle gear?

     - Darcy’s sure one of the books must be in the Red Room ... the one where you were trained. - Monica sighed, less than happy to have to bring Y/N back to that place but if there was someone who could navigate it, it was her. - Yelena was not trained by ... him, so she does not know. Y/N, I don’t think ... I think you and him should talk. 

    - There’s nothing to talk about. - she forced a smile, following Monica back into the hex. - We are different people, besides ... I don’t think he would forgive me at all.

    - Can you at least tell me what happened? What happened with him, what happened in Westview? Wanda says you’re in pain and I don’t want you to be in pain. You helped me when I was in pain, I wanna help you too. We’ve known each other for what? Five years discounting the Thanos thing? Six?

    - I will talk about it someday. Just not today.

    - Are you in the headspace to go with us? We can always try and see what Sergeant Barnes remembers if you’re not up to it.  

    - I am a professional agent. - she smiled. - I’m always prepared.

The sooner we get this book situation sorted, the sooner she wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. At least that’s what she thought and as such she had no problem returning to the place which she had escaped from years and years ago. Nevertheless, she was first and foremost an agent, someone who fought for others and for once she had to do just that. Be professional. 

She got dressed in her traditional black tactic gear and jacket before heading down to the room where they kept most of their ammunition. It had been Jimmy’s idea to arm everyone involved in a mission just in case despite Y/N, Wanda and Monica being capable to hold their own without it. Even so, having a knife or a gun on them had made wonders before. Normally the people they go against aren’t exactly fair and she had learned that the hard way. As she opened the door to the ammunition room, she came face to face with him lacing up his boots. It was the most common action yet it felt so foreign to see him do it, to see him be in control of lacing up his own shoe laces. Part of her was happy for him, happy he was happy, happy he was his own person but the other part of her screamed for her to let it go of her insecurities, he was not the same man she had known and she was definitely not the same woman. She was guilty for more than half his pain and that, that remained the same. 

Y/N ignored him, sliding past him to grab her own utility belt which was really nothing special except for the fact she had gotten everyone important in her life to carve their initials in them. Her point was if she was dying on the field, she had least had something which reminded her of the love which regardless of every bad thing she had done, still remained. She wrapped her belt around her waist and thigh, yet nevertheless it was still too loose. Damned belt.

   - You’re putting it wrong. -  Buck mumbled.

   - Pardon?

   - The belt. - he got up and walked up to her. - The second strap ... it’s too low on your thigh, should be higher.

   - Oh ... -  she moved her gaze away from him.

   - Here. May I? - he asked her, hoping to meet her gaze but she merely nodded still looking the other way. Bucky unclasped the strap from her thigh, bringing it up further up, his knuckles brushing against the fabric of her trousers. She slowly moved her gaze to look at him and he fixed her belt before he moved up, eyes staring into hers. They seemed to look at each other for a lifetime, before he cleared his throat. - It should be better now.

    - Uhm ... thank you, Sergeant Barnes.

    - Cyborg brain, how long does it take to lace up some boots? - Sam’s voice reverberated through the room making the two take each a step back going back to the distance between them. 

    - I have to go. - Y/N grabbed her jacket, exiting the room as fast as she could.

The plane ride was equally unbearable with her sat in front of him, catching his eyes every once in a while. God, she used to love his eyes. She still remembered being tangled in grey worn out sheets, laying across his chest just looking at him, looking at those eyes which always looked the same even when he forgot her. Those blue eyes, they were always the same despite the two of them being different people from who they were in the Red Room. Speaking of the devil, it no longer looked like one. It was falling down, the once crown jewel of HYDRA had worn out with time. The red walls were fading to brown, the spotless rooms were now filled with dust and ghosts of memories. It was gone, so how come it still haunted her?

   - Wanda and Sharon will take east, me and Sam west, Alexei and Yelena south and Y/N you can take north with Sergeant Barnes. - Monica suggested. Y/N shot her a way too familiar look, almost as if she were about to argue with her yet she understood the basis of her decision. After all, not everyone had ... a something controlling power. 

She took charge into the very familiar north wing of the building. They kept most off the girls who were yet to pass to the red room there and it had been her home for years. Bucky however, was remembering things which he couldn’t fully understand. He knew this place yet he didn’t remember walking these halls, he remembered the pain. He could still feel the pain, the much too familiar pain of having all he knew be gone.

    - You’ll take the right and I the left? Sergeant Barnes? - she put her hand on his hand, almost magically taking him away from ghosts of his pain. - Do you want to stop?

    - Yeah, I’ll take the left. - he rebuffed her, turning left.

The room seemed to take him in, memories of his own strained voice as he yelled out for some mercy returned to his consciousness, memories of things he had said, things he hadn’t said. He swiftly turned around, turning his gun to the door before turning back again to see a woman standing in front of him.

    - Woah lower the gun down, dear. - she had an eerily smile on her lips. Buck took a step back slowly but she moved her hand, a purple glow followed by the sound of the door closing. - I’m only here to help.

   - Y/N ... - he tapped his intercom but no sound came from it.

   - Yes, that’s exactly who we are talking about. You see I know who Daisy is, she knows who Daisy is. - she took a file from under her shirt. - Everyone knows who Daisy is but you. Now, I think it’s really unfair you don’t know so I decided to even out the game.

She threw the file onto the ground before disappearing. God, at least back in the 40s people only removed their faces. Bucky looked around, wearingly of his surroundings much more than he was before.  This room. was playing with his mind yet the file laying on the ground proved the woman wasn’t a mere mirage of his mind. He kneeled down too grab the file, opening it to reveal a passport photo of Y/N accompanied by an information sheet. He read through the first lines quickly until one particular fact stopped him. Known aliases: Daisy.

taglist: @lookiamtrying​

[enigmas-artdeck]

Wrong: Part 2 (A 2D Bendy AU Fanfic)

Alright, this fanfic is by far one of the most popular posts on this blog. It even got a follow up by @pooka-dragon (which is really good by the way, give it a read!). 

HOWEVER

That is their version, not mine. While I am a sucker for fluff, me, being the twisted mind I am, made a part 2 (some people asked for the second part) and made some more angst. I am working on part 3 which should come later in the week.

AGAIN I am sorry if things seem weird or are wrong *snort*.

Part 1

part 3

SO HERE WE GO:

He didn’t know what to expect. He knew that sometimes his friend would get upset, but this? This was one of the last things he would expect from the companion that he’d been through so much with.The house was an absolute mess with the ink spattering the walls and the thrown furniture. Carefully navigating over the strewn chairs and small tables, he kept note of all the ink in the carnage.

“What the hell Bendy…” Henry lowly whispered to himself as he made it further into the house. He placed his knees on the floor to pick up the large coffee table that blocked his path. As he reached under for a better grip, his fingers were pricked. Ignoring the pain, he lifted the table off to the side. Then he saw it.

A knife.

Stained with ink.

Panic almost immediately seized the elder human. As he looked further into the hall, he could see more knives stained with the same substance. His mind kept racing with more scenarios of what could’ve happened to the toon. A robber? Self defense? Some sort of twisted prank? Henry conjured up more thoughts the deeper he went into the house. He not dare to think of that scenario, however. When Henry reached the kitchen, he could no longer ignore the thought.

The sink was filled with watered-down ink.

This was intentional.

One could say that he came damn near close to breaking the sound barrier with the sheer speed he used to run to Bendy’s room. He banged on the door heavily as he attempted to twist the handle fully.

“Bendy, open up!” He kept calling out to his friend for some kind of sign that he was alright. No reply came. Henry took it upon himself to become a battering ram. Using hi upper arm as a shock absorber, he kept crashing into the door in hopes of the barrier to give way. And gave way was what the door did.

The human fell on his back on top of the door, splashing down into the 3 inches of ink. When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t believe that Bendy managed to do this. Destroying the furniture, yes. But flooding the room so everything was the same lampblack ink as him? No, this was inconceivable, even for Henry, who knew quite well what the toon could do.

Henry unhooked the palm-sized flashlight (something he picked up after the whole workshop ordeal) from his belt loop, shining the white light into the dripping darkness. Thank god he left his shoes on, he really didn’t want to feel what the ink is like. As he cleared the bunk bed’s frame, lo and behold, there was Bendy sitting in the corner, facing away from the door. He trudged through the ink over to the heaving toon.

“Hey, Bendy. You okay?” Obviously not, hence the damage outside the room, but he was trying to provoke some sort of response from the shaking frame.

“C’mon Bendy, you can’t mope here forever.” Nothing. “Hey, Bendy, I’m here. I’ll listen to anything you say. Say one word, or say them all. I’m all ears.”

Finally, some response. A low mumble came from Henry’s friend. Henry slowly advanced towards him, attempting to hear better.

“Bendy, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to speak up.”

“…wanted to kill…”

He stopped dead in his tracks, blood becoming ice. Had his friend just…? No, no, that wasn’t right. It’s gotta be an audio mishearing. There’s no way Bendy of all people would want to do that…

“I’m afraid I misheard you. Why don’t you-”

“I wanted to kill someone.”

Bendy slowly rose from his hunched position. Henry thought it was a trick of the light, but he realized no, Bendy really is 8 feet tall. Bendy slowly turned around, fully revealing himself to the human before him. Henry knew why his friend was upset. He turned into the shape of them.

“Oh my god, how-”  Henry never got to finish.

“BECAUSE THEY WERE ME! ALL THE NEGATIVE ASPECT OF ME WERE THEM! THEY WERE ALWAYS ME! I WAS ALWAYS THEM!” Henry fell backwards, using his hands and feet to push himself to the other side of the inky room. Bendy followed the man, madly rambling.

“I WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE, HENRY! I WANTED TO BASH SOMEONE’S SKULL IN AND PUT THEM IN A MORGUE! I WANTED JOEY AND SAMMY TO PAY FOR WHAT THEY DID, BUT NEVER KILL THEM! I WANTED TO TAKE A CHILD’S LIFE! I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE THAT CAME FROM AT ALL! I CAN’T EVEN TELL WHAT’S REALLY ME OR THEM! I CAN’T EVEN TELL IF WE REALLY WERE SEPARATE BEINGS OR NOT!” During his screeching, Bendy had gotten down on all fours, closing the distance. Now that he was finished, he was only a mere few inches from the man’s face, razored fangs dripping with ink.

Henry was at a loss for words for the first time since the workshop incident. He started to speak, but the words never came out. Bendy uttered a line that nearly made Henry weep.

“I’m a devil, but not the kind I was supposed to be.”

Henry brought his hand up and forward, trying to do the same action that helped Bendy calm down and feel secure many times. Bendy swatted the hand away.

“Leave.”

“No.” 

Somehow this made the toon snap. Bendy started screeching ‘leave’ over and over, jumping to the ceiling. His head did a complete 180 turn, staying on Henry. This action gave Henry a sickening feeling, for Bendy has never truly done anything demonic like this before.

An inky hand rose from the floor, pushing the elder to the yawning doorway. Another hand picked the door up, ready to place said door back. Once Henry had exited, both hand shoved the door back into place, along with staying there to make sure the door never got knocked down again.

Henry rammed into the door for 10 minutes, but it was to no avail. Didn’t even budge. Rubbing his sore arm, he headed to the phone. It took no more than a moment for the other end to pick up after dialing the number.

“Hello, this is the Willows residence, Carmella speaking.” A woman sounding no older that 40 answered the phone.

“Hello, this is Henry speaking. I was wondering if your son Samson could come over tomorrow?”

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

I kinda sorta (really) wanted a family that didn’t have a parent that didn’t trust Bendy, so I came up with Samson Willows and his mom Carmella Willows (single parent who happens to work with Henry.)  Their names are Based On Sammy Lawrence and my own aunt. She actually adores Bendy, making a sort of mother figure for him. She, however, sees Henry only as a friend. Both of them came up on a whim.