uncomfortable-writers

[uncomfortable-writers]

Haven't seen you on my dash in a while. Hope you're doing ok! 💕

Hey!

Thank you for checking in on me lovely it means the world, I’m just very busy with university and I don’t have a lot of time/motivation to write anymore :( I want to try to get back into it though so hopefully you’ll be seeing more of me

Hope you’re staying safe <3

[uncomfortable-writers]

Naive (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Character: Thomas Shelby

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,050

Warnings: Bit angst but not really, swearing, low-key jealous Tommy 

A/N - Inspired by The Kooks - Naive <3

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His feet thudded on the pavement below. The people of Birmingham made sure to stay out of his path and it wasn’t because of his reputation. Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man but when his face looked like thunder he could give even the devil the shivers. He walked with purpose towards the Garrison wanting nothing more than a drink to nurse the stress headache pounding behind his eyes.

Pushing on the doors harshly they swung open, releasing the stench of old beer and sweat. As he pulled off his peaked cap his cold eyes darted around the pub looking for you tucked away in the crowd. Unable to find you he began to move towards the private room returning greetings from the drunk revellers with a low grunt. He found the room to be unoccupied, not even by a single Shelby. Tommy took off his overcoat and neatly placed it over a chair. He took a moment to compose himself; he wanted to be in your presence, even though he wouldn’t openly tell you, you helped him to relax. 

As Tom left the room he still observed the drunken rabble on his way to the bar. His usual order of whiskey was placed in front of him, taking the cup in his hand he was about to take a sip when a hand clapped onto his shoulder causing the brown liquid to spill out onto his hand. With a disgruntled expression, he turned to scold the culprit. 

“Tommy!”, Arthur slurred with drunken glee, “How are ya Tommy?”. Arthur’s breath reeked of alcohol signalling to him that Arthur had been drinking for a while which most likely meant you had and the other Shelbys had too. Thomas didn’t think it was possible for his mood to worsen, “Fine”, he breathed out through his teeth. Whether the lie was so convincing or Arthur was too drunk, he couldn’t decide but his brother didn’t let on either way, “That’s what we like to hear Tommy!”. Pouring what was left of the drink into his mouth, Tommy swallowed quickly feeling it warm his throat, the action cause Arthur to drop his arm and instead lean on the bar for support. “Where’s (Y/N)?”, he asked Arthur. Arthur’s ginger brows pulled together before they relaxed, a small knowing smile faintly pulled at the corner of his lips irking Tommy to no end, “(Y/N)”, Arthur repeated letting your name hang in the air. “Yes, (Y/N)”, Tom said flatly, reaching into his jacket to find his cigarettes; the habit being one of his only stress reliefs.

Keep reading

[uncomfortable-writers]

Naive (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Character: Thomas Shelby

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,050

Warnings: Bit angst but not really, swearing, low-key jealous Tommy 

A/N - Inspired by The Kooks - Naive <3

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His feet thudded on the pavement below. The people of Birmingham made sure to stay out of his path and it wasn’t because of his reputation. Thomas Shelby was an intimidating man but when his face looked like thunder he could give even the devil the shivers. He walked with purpose towards the Garrison wanting nothing more than a drink to nurse the stress headache pounding behind his eyes.

Pushing on the doors harshly they swung open, releasing the stench of old beer and sweat. As he pulled off his peaked cap his cold eyes darted around the pub looking for you tucked away in the crowd. Unable to find you he began to move towards the private room returning greetings from the drunk revellers with a low grunt. He found the room to be unoccupied, not even by a single Shelby. Tommy took off his overcoat and neatly placed it over a chair. He took a moment to compose himself; he wanted to be in your presence, even though he wouldn’t openly tell you, you helped him to relax. 

As Tom left the room he still observed the drunken rabble on his way to the bar. His usual order of whiskey was placed in front of him, taking the cup in his hand he was about to take a sip when a hand clapped onto his shoulder causing the brown liquid to spill out onto his hand. With a disgruntled expression, he turned to scold the culprit. 

“Tommy!”, Arthur slurred with drunken glee, “How are ya Tommy?”. Arthur’s breath reeked of alcohol signalling to him that Arthur had been drinking for a while which most likely meant you had and the other Shelbys had too. Thomas didn’t think it was possible for his mood to worsen, “Fine”, he breathed out through his teeth. Whether the lie was so convincing or Arthur was too drunk, he couldn’t decide but his brother didn’t let on either way, “That’s what we like to hear Tommy!”. Pouring what was left of the drink into his mouth, Tommy swallowed quickly feeling it warm his throat, the action cause Arthur to drop his arm and instead lean on the bar for support. “Where’s (Y/N)?”, he asked Arthur. Arthur’s ginger brows pulled together before they relaxed, a small knowing smile faintly pulled at the corner of his lips irking Tommy to no end, “(Y/N)”, Arthur repeated letting your name hang in the air. “Yes, (Y/N)”, Tom said flatly, reaching into his jacket to find his cigarettes; the habit being one of his only stress reliefs.

 Arthur pivoted to look at the crowd and gestured wildly, “She was over there last I saw her, talkin’ up a storm with some bloke”. Tommy struck up a match to light the cig taking his time to do so to calm down, he inhaled sharply on the stick and turned to face the crowd too. “Some bloke?”, he prompted his brother who only shrugged in response, “Better go find her Tom”. Thomas gave Arthur his signature stare before he did just that.

Wading into the crowd he was polite to the people who spoke to him, though he didn’t stop when they tried to carry on the conversation. He’d almost walked fully round the Garrison and he even would’ve missed you had he not heard your unique laugh drift through the air like a siren’s call. He turned on his heel, his blue eyes clocked you in a corner that was dimly lit, standing too close to a man he didn’t know. You were laughing about something he had said, the man had reached out and gently placed his hand on your arm.

It took less than a second for him to arrive near you.

“(Y/N)”, Tommy’s gravelly voice sharply interrupted your conversation, he spared you only a moments glance before he began to access your acquaintance, “Who’s your friend?”. The question sounded harmless to you but the man involuntarily straightened his posture, his hand returning to his side. “Tommy when did you get here? This is Sam”, your tone was happy, voice slurred. “Sam”, Thomas rolled the name off his tongue like it was poison, “Sam what?”. 

The Peaky Blinder continued to stare Sam down, he didn’t even turn to look at you when he saw you grow serious out the corner of his eye. Even though he wasn’t a very tall or heavy-set man, Tommy was still able to intimidate even the biggest of men with just his very presence. “Behave we were just talking”, you sighed, Tommy could just hear the pout present on your face and when he finally ripped his eyes away from your friend, he was right. You were pouting up at him as if he were the only person in the room. “You were just talking”, Tommy puffed out smoke which hung in the air. “Yes Thomas, that’s how you make friends”, your irritation was becoming obvious. 

Tommy raised his eyebrows mockingly. He hated it when you called him anything but Tommy. “How you make friends”, he took another long drag of his cigarette observing you, he knew he was playing with fire by purposely provoking you but he just couldn’t help himself. He watched the way your perfect features contorted nastily, “What’s so wrong with making friends?”, Thomas didn’t react, he deliberately took his time puffing on the cig knowing it would drive you mad. Just as he opened his mouth Sam interjected, “It’s been wonderful (Y/N), but I think I best be off”. 

Thomas snapped his head towards the man, a slight scowl on his face, “Yeah I think you better”.

Sam abruptly left, you jabbed your finger in Tom’s chest, “Why are you always such a cock?”. You started to stamp away but he caught your arm, “Now (Y/N)--”, you ripped your arm out of his grip, “Oh don’t start”. You continued on your warpath over to the bar, ready to drink until you were happy again half expecting Thomas to follow and he would have, had he not been stopped by Aunt Polly who’d been watching the entire scene unfold. “When?”, she said ominously prompting Tom to sigh at her, “What?”. He didn’t have time for her long-winded riddles. “When are you going to tell her you love her?”. 

[uncomfortable-writers]

hey everyone!

@thepeakygurl​  is a new blog writing for the peaky blinders and her requests are open! go be kind and show some love <3

[uncomfortable-writers]

I just wanted to kindly ask are you going to be doing a part4 of Lofn’s Blessing. Thank you.😊 May Allah bless you.💗💗

Hello! I don’t think I will be continuing the series unless I find some inspiration, my apologies lovley. Lots of love to you <3

<3

[uncomfortable-writers]

It Pours (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Character: Thomas Shelby 

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,013

Warning: Swearing

A/N - As I’m from Birmingham I finally got around to watching Peaky Blinders and I have to say I enjoyed it more than I thought I would! So I guess I’m now writing for it . First time writing Tommy tho so he’s prolly gonna be a little bit OOC apologise if he is <3

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Rain fell sporadically against the windshield of Tommy’s Bentley making it even harder to see in the pitch black midnight sky. The only sound which filled the car was the hum of the engine and the occasional blow of wind which rattled the windows. Thomas was pissed off big time, so were you too; tonight had not gone as planned. You’d both bickered all night which eventually lead to a massive argument, resulting in you storming out of the fancy restaurant and demanding Tommy take you home. 

Even though you could see nothing in the dark, your whole body was tilted in the passenger seat so you were facing the window, quite literally giving the cold shoulder to the Peaky Blinder. Thomas was stubborn but you were determined to stand your ground, even if it meant sitting in silence for the long, long ride home.

Thomas was equally tight lipped although he was rapidly growing bored of watching the headlights illuminated the dark tar in front. Tapping his fingers once on the steering wheel, his left hand reached out to grab his cigarettes awkwardly manoeuvring one out of the tin before slipping it back into his waistcoat pocket. The cig was left hanging from his lips while he tried to find his lighter. Struggling in the dark he momentarily looked away from the road only to look back alarmed seconds later when the car made a chugging noise, making it come to a sudden stop.

Keep reading

[uncomfortable-writers]

It Pours (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Character: Thomas Shelby 

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,013

Warning: Swearing

A/N - As I’m from Birmingham I finally got around to watching Peaky Blinders and I have to say I enjoyed it more than I thought I would! So I guess I’m now writing for it . First time writing Tommy tho so he’s prolly gonna be a little bit OOC apologise if he is <3

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Rain fell sporadically against the windshield of Tommy’s Bentley making it even harder to see in the pitch black midnight sky. The only sound which filled the car was the hum of the engine and the occasional blow of wind which rattled the windows. Thomas was pissed off big time, so were you too; tonight had not gone as planned. You’d both bickered all night which eventually lead to a massive argument, resulting in you storming out of the fancy restaurant and demanding Tommy take you home. 

Even though you could see nothing in the dark, your whole body was tilted in the passenger seat so you were facing the window, quite literally giving the cold shoulder to the Peaky Blinder. Thomas was stubborn but you were determined to stand your ground, even if it meant sitting in silence for the long, long ride home.

Thomas was equally tight lipped although he was rapidly growing bored of watching the headlights illuminated the dark tar in front. Tapping his fingers once on the steering wheel, his left hand reached out to grab his cigarettes awkwardly manoeuvring one out of the tin before slipping it back into his waistcoat pocket. The cig was left hanging from his lips while he tried to find his lighter. Struggling in the dark he momentarily looked away from the road only to look back alarmed seconds later when the car made a chugging noise, making it come to a sudden stop.

You were jolted out of your thoughts. “What the fuck?”, Tommy muttered to himself, turning the key in the engine but to no avail. You snapped your head over your shoulder to shoot a foul look at the man unhappy that a problem had arisen. “Stay here”, Tommy instructed, monotonous as always. You rolled your eyes at him just as he climbed out of the car, “As if I had anywhere else to go”. You watched him make his way to the front of the car, unable to stop a wicked smirk from spreading across your face from watching him get battered by the harsh rain. The Brummie lifted the hood only then just realising just how bad the situation was. Dark funnels of smoke wafted up into the air only just barely visible. Thomas cursed to himself. He pulled his hat further down on his head, the rain dripping from the brim fell on his face as he put the hood down.

Getting back into the car, he slammed the door and stared at the steering wheel, cogs turning in his head.

“Is there a problem?”, you questioned pointedly. Thomas took a moment to gather his cool before finally letting his blue eyes meet your own, “Yes (Y/N), that’s why we’ve stopped”, he answered in an almost condescendingly way. For the second time that night you rolled your eyes at him. Your attitude was getting the better of you and wearing Tommy’s patience thin. This was the last thing you both needed. “I mean can you fix it”.

With a sigh he picked up his previously discarded cigarette to light it up, “No (Y/N) not without tools which I don’t have”. You couldn’t help but throw your hands dramatically into your lap. Facing the window once again you huffed, “Great so we’re stuck”. Taking a long drag from his cig, Tommy repeated your words as he blew out the smoke, “We’re stuck”. A natural silence fell in the car, rain continued to hammer down making little echos in the car. You were watching the droplets cascade on the window feeling more and more frustrated with the situation. “Right”, Tommy started, opening his door the freezing cold of the outside world seeped inside, “I better go find a telephone box”. A hand on his arm stopped his movement, he looked at you expectantly, “You’re going out? In this?”.

Tommy’s eyebrows seemingly knitted even though the movement wasn’t obvious, his glanced away for a second, “Yes that’s what I just said”. 

Your fingers uncoiled slightly but didn’t release his arm, “But it’s pissing it down, you won’t even be able to see the phone box let alone in front of you”. Tom made no move to push you off yet with his free arm he pushed his door even wider, “I’m sure I’ll be fine (Y/N)”. Still you didn’t relent, “We don’t even know where we are Tommy and it’s so dark”. Tom studied you for a second taking note of your features: anyone else wouldn’t of been able to notice but Tommy knew you, he could see the slight panic behind your eyes and could feel it in the way you gripped his arm, “You’re afraid aren’t you?”. 

You scoffed artificially hoping that it would displace the thought from Tom’s mind, withdrawing your hand you refused to look at him. Connecting the dots Tommy closed his door fully as the car was now as cold as the outside, “You’re afraid of the dark”. You folded your arms across your chest, “No Tom”, you spoke softly, “I’m afraid because you’re going to leave me in the middle of nowhere, in the dark of night to find a phone box that could be miles away”. 

Thomas reached out and gently held your thigh, “Love, if I don’t we’re going to be stuck here and its freezing. You’ll get ill”. You could already feel the anger you felt from earlier melt away as his thumb glided gently over your skin, “Can’t we just wait till it gets lighter? Don’t leave me”. 

The Shelby man sighed, you were always able to get your way. “We’re going to be ice blocks by the time morning comes”. In an instant you snuggled into Tommy’s side catching him off guard, “Not if we huddle to keep warm we won’t”. He allowed a rare chuckle to escape past his lips, sliding his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer he coolly said, “Is that all we’ll be doing?”. You playfully hit his chest, “Well it’s going to be a few hours till the sunrises so...”.

[uncomfortable-writers]

Hi!!! ^^ (idk what to say tho??) How are you? How are you holding up in this quartine situation my dude?

Hey!

I’m okay, just stressed with uni work and such. How’re you?

<3

[uncomfortable-writers]

-𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?- (𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) 𝟐

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Dean Winchester

Persona: Female

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 1,424

A/N - Thank you all for your lovely responses <3

Read Part 1 Here!

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A particularly loud snore caught in the back of Dean’s throat while he lay face down spread eagle across his bed still wearing the clothes he’d stormed out in last night. He jolted awake trying to force his green eyes to focus. Letting out a groan which was muffled slightly by his pillow he touched his forehead gently, careful not to agitate his headache more.

How did he even get home last night? Dean tentatively sat up swinging his legs over the side of the bed he rested his head in his hands to try and remember the shenanigans of the evening.

A few doors down you also began to rouse from your dreamless sleep. The thought of being back, combined with having to see and at some point interact with the older Winchester filled you with enough anxiety that rest didn’t come easy that night. Rising from the bed the room became filled with the noise of your back cracking, soon to be replaced by your stomach growling angrily. “Shit”, you mumbled to the air. You flopped down on the bed to think about your options, you could either; venture out to the kitchen to grab a snack but that came with the risk of bumping into you know who or you could just wait it out. As much as the hunger gnawed at your stomach, the fear was too much so you once again opened up your laptop to try and distract yourself. There was a soft tap on your door, followed by Sam gently calling your name, “Hey (Y/N), I made some breakfast if you want any”, almost like he could sense your dilemma. You smiled, practically bouncing over to the door you opened it, “That would be great Sam”. “I can bring–”, Sam started but stopped once you began to step outside of your room, “Let’s go eat”.

Fate was cruel that much Dean couldn’t deny, it always had a nasty way of coming back around to bite him in the ass in someway or another. The smell of pancakes and bacon drifted under the door into Dean’s nose. A disgustingly greasy breakfast was just what he needed. Reluctantly he rose from his bed certain that somewhere Chuck was mocking him. He resented everything about his current situation and resented you even more. Not only did he have to worry about Micheal now but you as well. Dean stumbled over his own feet as he made his way to the kitchen.

Keep reading

[uncomfortable-writers]

-𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?- (𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) 𝟐

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Dean Winchester

Persona: Female

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 1,424

A/N - Thank you all for your lovely responses <3

Read Part 1 Here!

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A particularly loud snore caught in the back of Dean’s throat while he lay face down spread eagle across his bed still wearing the clothes he’d stormed out in last night. He jolted awake trying to force his green eyes to focus. Letting out a groan which was muffled slightly by his pillow he touched his forehead gently, careful not to agitate his headache more.

How did he even get home last night? Dean tentatively sat up swinging his legs over the side of the bed he rested his head in his hands to try and remember the shenanigans of the evening.

A few doors down you also began to rouse from your dreamless sleep. The thought of being back, combined with having to see and at some point interact with the older Winchester filled you with enough anxiety that rest didn’t come easy that night. Rising from the bed the room became filled with the noise of your back cracking, soon to be replaced by your stomach growling angrily. “Shit”, you mumbled to the air. You flopped down on the bed to think about your options, you could either; venture out to the kitchen to grab a snack but that came with the risk of bumping into you know who or you could just wait it out. As much as the hunger gnawed at your stomach, the fear was too much so you once again opened up your laptop to try and distract yourself. There was a soft tap on your door, followed by Sam gently calling your name, “Hey (Y/N), I made some breakfast if you want any”, almost like he could sense your dilemma. You smiled, practically bouncing over to the door you opened it, “That would be great Sam”. “I can bring--”, Sam started but stopped once you began to step outside of your room, “Let’s go eat”.

Fate was cruel that much Dean couldn’t deny, it always had a nasty way of coming back around to bite him in the ass in someway or another. The smell of pancakes and bacon drifted under the door into Dean’s nose. A disgustingly greasy breakfast was just what he needed. Reluctantly he rose from his bed certain that somewhere Chuck was mocking him. He resented everything about his current situation and resented you even more. Not only did he have to worry about Micheal now but you as well. Dean stumbled over his own feet as he made his way to the kitchen.

“I forgot how good you are at making these”, you garbled through a mouthful of pancake, “But Dean’s were always better”, you were unable to stop the sentence from spilling out from your mouth, Sam didn’t miss the way your face fell. “Yeah well he still won’t share his secret recipe with me...How have you been anyway?”. You were grateful for the swift topic change, it was almost like nothing had changed between the two of you. Dean was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost didn’t hear the sound of Sam talking to you. He froze up, his blood turning to ice in his veins. He lent against the wall, only a few metres kept him from you. Your voice was still the same but as he listened he noticed you sounded tired in a way that he couldn’t place even though it sounded familiar. The more he listened to your soft spoken words to Sam, the more it provoked feelings of nostalgia as his mind fleeted away to a better moment in time:

“Good morning sleepyhead”, you cooed to Dean who walked into the kitchen wearing nothing more than his bathrobe, you were stationed over the hob watching the bacon and eggs cook. Dean placed his head onto your shoulder, engulfing your waist with his big arms he asked, “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”. You giggled, “Your favourite”. Dean tightened the grip momentarily with a hum of approval, then he pulled on your hips to make you face him, “You’re too good to me princess”, his accent heavy with sleep. He pressed his lips to yours as you let your arms wrap around his neck. “Gross you guys, I’m trying to eat”, Sam piped up from the table, a look of mocking disgust across his face. You pulled away from Dean with a smile.

Dean couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten by scoring you: his perfect dream girl. He let you turn back around, “Way to ruin the moment Sammy”, he took a seat across from his brother who laughed at his quip. He watched as you hummed to yourself flipping the eggs, taking a swig from his coffee he was content with the picturesque scene before him.

‘Yeah’, Dean thought, ‘I could get used to this’.

“--and that’s how I took out a whole nest of vamps”, you grinned proudly, watching the visible surprise grow on Sam’s face, “No way, not even me or Dean could’ve done that!”. Upon hearing his name, Dean was thrust back into the real world. He snorted out a puff of air in irritation, breakfast would have to wait. Spinning on his heel he made no effort to conceal the sound of his movement, pissed off that he couldn’t even go anywhere in his own house, couldn’t eat and that he felt like he’d been ran over by a truck.

The noise caught both yours and Sam’s attention. It felt like you’d been punched in your gut, like there was no air getting to your lungs. You waited for what felt like an eternity for Dean to walk into the room but he never appeared. “So where were we anyway?”, Sam questioned, drawing your attention back to him.

“Like I was saying--”.

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Sam later found his brother in the library, glued to his laptop screen with a sour look twisting his features into a permanent scowl. His hand was gripping a beer bottle, (like usual), while the other hand scrolled endlessly through useless articles.

Sam cleared his throat, “Any luck?”. Without looking away Dean answered dully,  “I thought I told you to tell her to go”. Sam pursed his lips. When a reply never came Dean glanced up at his brother, raising a brow in an almost antagonising manner. Sam shifted his weight knowing that anything he said wouldn’t sate his brother, “We need her Dean”. His older brother shut his laptop lid with more force than he meant, he stood up, “How is (Y/N) gonna help huh? What’s she going to do that we can’t? Does she know something we don’t?”, Dean paused to let Sam interject but the look on the younger man’s face said it all, “That’s what I thought. We don’t need her, I mean just look at all the other hunters we got runnin’ around here, we don’t need another taking up space”.

Sam softly said, “Dean (Y/N) can help you just need to give her time--”. 

“Time!?!”, Dean scoffed in disbelief, “We don’t have time! She either helps now or I’ll pack her bags myself”. He snatched his beer from the table to storm off to his room. As he booked it around the corner he almost bumped into you, you didn’t need to have heard the conversation he’d just had with Sam, (even though you just did), to tell from his body language that he was livid. Dean’s green eyes widened in shock for a split second before the mix of previous feelings misted over his eyes; hurt, anger and confusion. He quickly pushed past you, your shoulders bumping as he hurried back to his room, “Watch where you’re going”, his voice low like a growl. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone just as fast, low key wishing he’d lingered for just a few moments longer to take in your relatively unchanged appearance.

Watching his shadow disappear around the corner, you couldn’t stop the tears that began to well in the back of your eyes. Timidly shuffling into the library you found it to be occupied by only Sam. Dean’s words stung as you repeated the sentences in your head. Sam looked up and met your eyes, his demeanour swiftly eased into a much more inviting one, his arms almost twitch up to offer you a hug.

Even though your voice was low as you spoke there was clear determination laced in your tone, “I’ll show him Sam”. With a plan already beginning to formulate, you planned on how to soothe your wounded pride.

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Tag List: @annestine​

[uncomfortable-writers]

Good Man - (Billy Russo x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: The Punisher

Character: Billy Russo

Persona: Female

Warning: Angsty, jealousy 

Word Count: 971

A/N - I’ve been rewatching the Punisher and I couldn’t help myself <3

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You tentatively put a hand on Matt Murdock’s arm as you locked the door to his office, the cool breeze tousled your hair. Giggling at something Matt said, you slipped the key into your pocket, you felt Matt tense up, “We’ve got company”, he mumbled softly. Looking away from your friend you first clocked the Rolls Royce with it’s shiny black paint instantly making your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. Your eyes rolled along the car until they reached the owner’s long pair of legs, reluctantly you let your gaze trail upwards until Billy’s deep brown eyes stared back at you. That smug smile plastered across his face.

“Oh for God’s sake, what’s he doing here?”, you sighed, still not taking your hand off of Matt’s arm, judging by your reaction Matt knew who it was, “Want me to tell him to get lost?”. You patted his arm one last time before loudly announcing, “You’ll be able to get home alright?”, letting your hand drop back down to your side. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Billy. 

Matt nodded his head, “I’ll see you tomorrow (Y/N)”, he straightened out his tie before placing his walking stick to the pavement, “Call me if you need me”. Both you and Billy watched as Matt made his way down the street and when he was finally out of earshot you started, “Why are you here Billy?”.

He crossed his arms over his suit-clad chest, making his overcoat bunch up as he coolly spoke, “Still friends with Murdock huh?”. You couldn’t stop the unimpressed smile which graced your lips, “Yeah well he is still my boss”, you readjusted the purse on your shoulder dramatically, “So I’ll ask you again what did you want?”. Billy glanced at the passing vehicles and the other people bustling down the street, he pushed off his car standing to his full height, “You’ve been ignoring my calls (Y/N)”, he stated in a matter of fact way, his irritation slowly building. Your eyebrows knitted together; the audacity of Billy had once been what drawn you to him but now it was grating. Shaking your head you shoved your hands in your pockets, “Normally that’s when you get the hint that someone doesn’t want to talk to you Billy, if you don’t mind I’ve got other places to be”.

You only managed to walk a few steps before you were stopped by Billy tugging on your arm, “Don’t walk off when I’m talking to you”, he huffed, the signature smirk gone from his face. You shook your arm so his long fingers would release you, “I don’t want to talk to you”. Billy flexed his fingers as they dropped to his side, resisting the urge to ball them into fists so he wouldn’t touch you again. The smell of your perfume clouded his thoughts, he couldn’t stop his tongue as it hissed out, “Moved on already?”.

A sarcastic laugh erupted from your mouth. You shook your head at Billy in disbelief, “Billy its none of your business, now leave me alone”. 

He stared daggers down at you, the shadows from his brow bone made his eyes appear almost black. The thought of you being with anyone else, anyone else that wasn’t him, ignited a fire deep down inside which threatened to burn to the surface.You knew he was trying to intimidate you, but you stood your ground. “Oh so there is someone then?”. You stepped back from Billy, “Are you done? I’ve really gotta get going”. The scowl grew as his mind whirled trying to come up with the answers that you weren’t giving him, “It’s him isn’t it?”, his eyes searched yours as visible confusion developed on yours, “What?”. Billy scoffed, he looked away to drag a hand across his stuff before he looked back down to you, “It’s him Murdock, I should’ve saw it coming”. You gave a snide chuckle, “Oh you really are crazy”. Deciding you weren’t going to indulge him anymore you were about to walk away when he carried on, “Don’t play coy with me (Y/N), how long has it been going on?”. Turning on your heel you forced out a goodbye, then you carried on making your way home. 

But Billy wasn’t going to let it drop that easily, he wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted.

He followed behind you, “Were you seeing each other while we were still together? Does he make you smile? Hold you close at night? Answer me”. You gritted your teeth and continued to walk down the street a little faster. You knew how Billy worked, he’d keep pushing and pushing, tearing you down until you gave him an answer even if it wasn’t true. “I could have given you the world (Y/N), what does he have that I don’t?”, his accent thick.

Billy was surprised when you stopped dead. You tilted your head over your shoulder, face void of all emotions while you contemplated if he was deserving of an answer. You’d been with Billy long enough to see how he ran his company Anvil, you’d been with him long enough to know he wasn’t clean. That there was a shady, dark side to his work and to him himself. Billy hadn’t hurt you, but you knew he’d hurt people. So against your better judgement, you answered his question, “Well for starters, Matt is a good man and a decent human being. If you come near me again Russo I’m getting a restraining order. Goodbye”. 

This time as you walked away, there were no second set of footsteps following you. Billy watched you go feeling what was left of his heart shatter. His fingernails dug into the sensitive skin of his palms as watched you go, cursing the very day you walked into his life.

[uncomfortable-writers]

Welcome back! It’s lovely to see you posting again, this account always brought me so much joy!🥰 Hope you’re safe and well❤️

Hey! Thank you for your kind words, they mean the world to me! I’m going to try and update as much as I can although I’m not sure how often that will be unfortunately. I hope you’re well and safe too <3

Lots of love <3

[uncomfortable-writers]

-𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?- (𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Supernatural

Character: Dean Winchester

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,331

A/N -  Hey everyone, long time no see! Life has just been really crazy for me and I didn’t have the motivation or time to update. I hope you’re all staying safe and well // 

Not sure how many parts this will have or if I’ll even keep updating (let me know if you’re interested in reading more pls) // 

will loosely follow the newer seasons but mostly this will take place in an AU <3

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You had to admit even you were surprised when you saw the younger Winchester’s name flash across your iPhone on a peaceful Sunday afternoon, it had been too long. You were even more surprised as you lumped your few belongings into your beaten up truck that the Winchesters would even call upon you for help. Gripping the steering wheel tightly you let your head flop onto it with a sigh, were you even ready for this?

It was a few hours later when you finally pulled up outside the bunker, you sent Sam a simple text to let him know you’d arrived safely.Taking a look at the big doors which would take you to the brothers, you looked at your steering wheel once more. The reasonable, sensible part of you argued it wasn’t too late for you to turn with your tail tucked between your legs. The Winchesters had other friends, (if you could even call yourself that), they could find someone else to help them. It didn’t have to be you. But the other part fought back, it has to be you because who else if not? So with a heavy heart beating faster from anxiety, you got out of your truck and waited for Sam to let you in.

The long-haired man greeted you with a warm hug leading you inside, you exchanged polite pleasantries almost as if you weren’t there to work a case. The bunker was still the same, everything in the same position as you remembered it to be. After descending down the last step you coughed to get Sam’s attention, he stopped to look at you, a brow raised. “Umm--”, you awkwardly adjusted one of the bags on your shoulder which Sam instantly reached out to grab, taking it out of your hand you let him carry it, “Does...does he know?”. Sam’s smile fell slightly, naturally his face took on a pitiful expression, “No”, he said softly, he would’ve said more but the sad nod you gave him changed his mind, “C’mon I’ve set up your old room”.

Sam opened the door to the room you once occupied; the double bed was still draped in its tan sheet, the fur blanket neatly folded across the bottom. You walked in recognising the faint smell of the vanilla incense you used to burn was still somewhat lingering lightly in the air. Dumping the bag you still carried onto the floor you reached out to take the other from Sam, “I’ll talk to him”, the younger brother stated, “It’ll be okay (Y/N). You nodded wordlessly. The expression on your face said it all, Dean would not be happy with this. The light clicking of the door closing made you exhale the breath you’d been holding, now that you were alone your let your eyes dance around the room noticing that the few trinkets you’d left where still in the original place you’d put them. There were a few photos you had left behind, unable to grab them in your mad dash away from the bunker. The frames held a thick layer of dust. Using the back of your sleeve you wiped it away to reveal the smiling faces of you and Dean, your head resting on his shoulder as his arms were wrapped around you. The memory replayed clearly in your head as if it happened yesterday:

“Hey Sammy, take one of us!”, Dean chirped happily as he forced the camera into his brother’s hands quickly running back over to you, he grabbed you tightly by the waist and forced you into his side. You giggled out his name, a wacky grin plastered on both of your faces as you snuggled even closer, “Say cheese!”, Sam shouted, enjoying the scene before him. With a flash, the picture had been taken and without wasting a moments time Dean detached from you to snatch the camera back.

He turned it around in his hands to examine the shot, “We look adorable”, he declared. “Lemme see”, you reached out but he moved it from your grasp, “I promise. Sam c’mere it’s group photo time!”.

Meanwhile as you were reminiscing on the joys of the past Sam went off to find his older brother and drop the bombshell. 

Dean was none the wiser as he sat alone in the kitchen sipping from his beer and skimming his laptop screen for any new leads about Micheal. The footsteps approaching pulled Dean out of his stupor, letting his eyes refocus he looked over to the door. He nodded his head at before looking back to the bright screen. Sam slowly skulked into the room trying to figure out how to break the news to his brother, “Any news?”. “Nothing, it’s like he’s gone ghost”, Dean closed the lid to his laptop and took an extra long gulp from his beer. Sam took a deep breath, “Yeah, he’s gonna turn up sooner or later...uh I called in some help”. 

“Help? Ain’t we got enough hunters around the place?”, he chuckled taking note of the solemn expression on Sam’s face. Sam cleared his throat, “Um an old friend actually”. Dean placed his now empty beer bottle down with more force than he meant, “Old friend?”, his lips formed a frown as Sam nodded, “Yeah, I called in (Y/N), thought we could use the help”.

Dean’s eyebrows knitted together. He puffed out the air in his lungs, “Old friend?”, he repeated sarcastically, “That’s a funny joke Sam”. The older Winchester was finding it hard to control the anger and hurt he could feel bubbling inside him.  The chair scrapped loudly across the kitchen floor letting Dean stand up to his full height, when Sam didn’t say anything other than cross his arms awkwardly Dean growled out lowly, “Sam you didn’t”. “Look we needed--”, he started but his brother cut him off, “You can’t be serious! I thought we said no more secrets and (Y/N)? Of all people? We don’t even need the help”, he thumped his palm onto the kitchen counter and started to walk towards the door. Dean stopped a few inches away from Sam, “Tell her to leave. Now.”, his boots pounded on the titled floor, “She’s not welcome here”. As Dean’s footsteps faded down the corridor Sam snarked, “Well that went better than expected”.

The older Winchester was trying not to see red as he mindlessly walked through the bunker, his heart was threatening to burst with feelings that he thought he’d repressed. Dean was hurt mostly; you being back here was a can of worms that he did not want to open, yet when his footsteps stopped he found himself outside your bedroom door. The number 32 glared back at him as he mindlessly stared at it, it was almost taunting him to knock. He raised his fist. It hovered over the dark brown oak.

What would he even say to you? There were a million and one things he could say, that he should say but how would he even phrase them? Should he get angry, would he cry?

Your fingers danced on the edge of the photo frame you couldn’t convince yourself to put back down yet, too caught up in the way the feelings of the past spoke to you. A creak sounded outside your door. It was so soft that if it weren’t for your trained ears you wouldn’t of heard it. You quickly returned the photo to the original spot like it had scolded you. Jumping onto your bed you rapidly yanked your laptop out of your bag and pretended to look like you were busy. You waited for the knock on the door, but it never came. 

His hand flopped back down to his side, with a final glance at the door he turned on his heel and stalked off back down the corridor intent on making his way to the Impala. He needed a place to be alone preferably with music and lots of cheap booze. 

[uncomfortable-writers]

-𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 (𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Marvel

Character: Steve Rogers

Persona: Female 

Word Count: 1,748

A/N - Hey everyone, long time no see! Life has just been really crazy for me and I didn’t have the motivation or time to update. I hope you’re all staying safe and well <3

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“--and that’s why it’s best if we call him in--”, Nick Fury’s voice bounced around the half empty conference room straight into your ears although you’d zoned out at the sheer mention of his moniker. You subconsciously gritted your teeth in an action you thought was subtle but Natasha caught the movement out the corner of her eye unbeknown to you. “So any questions?”, Fury paused surveying the remaining Avengers who had opted to stay in action after defeating Thanos rather than taking an early retirement.

After a few moments of silence Sam Wilson spoke up, “Nope, think we’re good here”. Fury curtly nodded, gathering his paperwork he announced, “You’re dismissed”, before exiting the room. Sam followed suit talking about training sessions with Peter Parker while Wanda rose from her chair. She glanced at you and Nat, she opened her mouth as if to say something but decided against it instead opting to give you a warm smile. You could feel her pity for you linger in the air like the foul mood which had washed over you. You sighed before standing, Natasha copying your actions tentatively placed a hand on your forearm, “You good?”. You smiled at your red-haired friend, “Yeah I’m fine”, you answered and to be honest you were quite fine; although there was an undeniable feeling of dread lingering in the pit of your stomach that you weren’t ready to address.

She hooked her arm through yours and led you towards the elevator, “You sure? It must be serious if Fury’s calling in the big guns”. You appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood and responded to half her question, “Yeah bet it’s gonna be tough, makes me even more jealous of Tony and his Malibu beach house”, you pressed the button which would take you to your shared floor with the Black Widow, she laughed at your joke, “Tell me about it”.

The doors pinged open, releasing Nat’s arm you stepped out first, “I’m gonna go shower I’ll catch ya later”. She gave a polite hum which you almost missed as you paced to your room. Once inside you sighed out loud.

Out of all the Avengers Nick could’ve called back in, why did it have to be him?

Discarding your clothes you made your way to your shower while pondering on your thoughts, almost chuckling at the bitterness which clouded your judgement. “I don’t know why I care”, you reached out for the faucet and turned it up to the highest temperature, “It’s not like he does”. You hissed as the hot water met with your skin, your statement was mostly true. Steve’s own actions had proved that.

With a groan, you pressed your head to the tiles and recounted Tony’s past words, ‘Don’t get involved with teammates’.

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Steve stepped off the quinjet with Bucky in tow, the fresh air felt much cooler than that of the humidity they were used to in Wakanda, “So much for that retirement”, Bucky chuckled. Steve let a smile slip onto his face as he tightened his grip on his duffle bag, “Well what can you do when the world needs us?”. Truth be told the Captain was grateful to be needed again, as thoroughly as he’d enjoyed his 6 months away from avenging he was antsy to get back to work. A normal life wasn’t quite what he thought he wanted.

“Let’s get this show on the road then”, the Winter Soldier made his way into the compound. A chorus of hellos met the pair. Steve’s baby blues flickered around the room as he greeted his former teammates noticing the lack of a certain someone. He couldn’t say he was surprised but some part of him had been hopeful. He made a mental note to ask Nat about your well being later. 

“Great to see you again Sam”, Steve greeted his old partner with a half hug as the man joked back, “Still haven’t aged a day I see”. Steve chuckled, “The Wakandan sun does wonders, how you been?”. Sam released him allowing him to step back, “Not too bad, it was nice to do absolutely nothing for once”. Sam nodded, happy to have his friend back in the same country, “I hear that, the Winter Jackass stay out of trouble?”. Looking over to Bucky he answered Sam’s question, “He’s okay, can’t say I’m on board with his new found love for goats though”. Sam visibly looked surprised and before he could ask what Steve said, “Sounds better if it comes from him”. 

At this Nat saw her opportunity to talk to Steve, “Hey soldier, let me take you to your room”.

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4 o’clock in the morning was the perfect time to train at the Shield compound. No newbie agents to gawk and watch you awestruck as the mighty Red Viper, famed partner to the Black Widow, (and rumoured scorned lover to Captain America), unleashed her fury on whichever unlucky punching bag she’d strapped up. You almost chuckled as you struck the bag full force. Sleep wouldn’t come with all the thoughts bobbling around in your head.

That seemed true for other occupants of the compound too.

Steve walked towards the gym without a thought. He liked to start off his day early even if it was a little more earlier than usual, his body clock was still trying to adjust to the new timezone. When he saw the light on in the gym he didn’t think twice but when he opened the door and saw the familiar figure moving effortlessly, he almost backtracked.

You hadn’t heard the door open over the sound of your flesh slapping against the fabric of the bag, too lost in your own musing. Steve debated his options: against his better judgement he decided to test the waters, after all when would he catch you alone like this again? There was no harm in friendly chatter. So letting the door drop loudly, he made his way over to the bench placing his water bottle near your own belongings.

You hadn’t expected company so early in the morning, reaching out you stilled the frolicking bag and looked behind you immediately regretting your decision. 

There he stood still looking the same as the day he left, blonde hair a little longer but his beard still neatly trimmed. His ageless face still perfect, those eyes as calm as the ocean on a sunny day and just as deep. You took note of the slight tan which kissed his skin and the way the corner of his lips pulled up into a polite smile, “(Y/N)”. His voice the same tone, and just as buttery-smooth, the same voice when had whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you basked in each other’s warmth.

“Rogers”, your voice was void of any emotion as you tried to keep your cool. The sound stung him a little but he didn’t say so, nor did he try to press you to speak letting you swiftly turn back around and resume with your training. As much as you wanted to flee from his presence, you refused to be intimidated by him. You’d have to get used to be around him, at the end of the day you were expected to work with the super soldier which meant you couldn’t always run from him. Steve wrapped his knuckles while observing you throw punches. Even though you were trying hard not to show how affect you were by his arrival, he could tell by the way you hit the bag.

“If you keep going like that you’re gonna sprain your wrist before we even start the mission”, he spoke softly, his shoes noiselessly bringing him closer to you, “Is this what Sam is teaching these days?”.

You didn’t laugh at his quip but you did slow down your swings in order to reign in your punches. Steve internally sighed and went to pick up a punching bag of his own, setting it up a few metres from you. This caused you to frown. It was silent for a moment before he opened his mouth again, “So--”, only to be cut off by you snapping, “Just stop”, your head jutted over to looked at the solider. If looks could kill Steve would be a dead man, “Stop what?”, he asked, feigned innocence on his puppy-like face. He knew exactly what he was doing. “Stop talking to me like we’re friends”, you deadpanned, stopping your workout entirely so you could face him. Steve crossed his arms over his chest almost defensively in the same manner he used when he was about to give one of his famous speeches, “Just making friendly conversation (Y/N), didn’t want it to be awkward”. 

You scoffed, “Didn’t want it to be awkward huh?”, you repeated nodding your head. Taking a step back you decided that maybe it was bedtime; spinning on your heel you headed towards your belongings. You were stopped by a gentle tug on your arm making you turn back towards Steve. The smell of peppermint and forest-lakes tickled your nostrils, the once familiar scent comforting but now only served as a nasty reminder as to what once was.

There were unspoken words exchanged, the looks on both of your faces said enough. 

Your eyes drifted over his face, Steve studied yours in turn letting his eyes linger just a little longer on your lips. You noticed the action making your stomach churn from a mix of butterflies and anger. You froze. His hand slowly glided further down your arm, stopping when he encased your small hand with his much larger, rougher one. The sick feeling wavering in your abdomen wanted you to run, to move, to do something other than let him work his magic over you; but there you stood staring into his eyes with your feet planted to in the ground. Steve opened his mouth, the apology which was supposed to be spoken was instead replaced by a squeeze to your hand and, “Rest easy, we have a long day tomorrow”.

The Captain moved back to his punching bag leaving your hand cold and your heart colder. A scowl was visible as you collected your belongings. Choice words threatened to spill out of your mouth but you opted for a softly muttered, “Prick”, as you let the door shut loudly knowing Steve would’ve heard your insult.

[uncomfortable-writers]

Red Death (Bucky x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Marvel

Character: Bucky Barnes

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,701

Warning: Swearing, brief mentions of death and of course a little risque in places ;)

A/N - Might turn this into a multipart series idk yet, lemme know what you think!

Inspired by this song ���> https://youtu.be/1V18P7JkAuA

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Bucky sipped cooly on his dry martini, his stare calculating judging the party-goers. Although his stance was calm and collected, the gears in his brain were spinning faster than he could keep up; he’d lost his intended target for the mission and it was an important one. Bucky didn’t even want to be here. He’d much rather be tucked away in his room watching some shitty rom-com, (his guilty pleasure), warm and safe instead of being forced into a suit with a fake smile plastered across his face and his hair pulled back into a bun.

The target was so high-profiled, the event too guarded, that one of the Avengers would never of made it to the front door, but for someone else lesser known? Well it was the perfect opportunity. All he had to do was acquire the intel from the mob boss and leave. Bucky inaudibly sighed, he’d done worse more dangerous things. This should be a piece of cake. Damn Steve for talking him into this.

He was about to push up up from the bar when he noticed a figure appear beside him.

Bucky pretended not to acknowledge, downing the last of his martini he placed it onto the bar beside him before crossing his arms across his chest inadvertently making himself bigger. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when the target waltzed back into his line of vision. “Tough day?”, a voice sweeter than candy spoke, sounding even more wonderful than the music playing. He couldn’t resist looking down towards the source and once he did, he was ensnared. 

Keep reading

[uncomfortable-writers]

Red Death (Bucky x Reader)

(Gif credit to owner)

Fandom: Marvel

Character: Bucky Barnes

Persona: Female

Word Count: 1,701

Warning: Swearing, brief mentions of death and of course a little risque in places ;)

A/N - Might turn this into a multipart series idk yet, lemme know what you think!

Inspired by this song ---> https://youtu.be/1V18P7JkAuA

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Bucky sipped cooly on his dry martini, his stare calculating judging the party-goers. Although his stance was calm and collected, the gears in his brain were spinning faster than he could keep up; he’d lost his intended target for the mission and it was an important one. Bucky didn’t even want to be here. He’d much rather be tucked away in his room watching some shitty rom-com, (his guilty pleasure), warm and safe instead of being forced into a suit with a fake smile plastered across his face and his hair pulled back into a bun.

The target was so high-profiled, the event too guarded, that one of the Avengers would never of made it to the front door, but for someone else lesser known? Well it was the perfect opportunity. All he had to do was acquire the intel from the mob boss and leave. Bucky inaudibly sighed, he’d done worse more dangerous things. This should be a piece of cake. Damn Steve for talking him into this.

He was about to push up up from the bar when he noticed a figure appear beside him.

Bucky pretended not to acknowledge, downing the last of his martini he placed it onto the bar beside him before crossing his arms across his chest inadvertently making himself bigger. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when the target waltzed back into his line of vision. “Tough day?”, a voice sweeter than candy spoke, sounding even more wonderful than the music playing. He couldn’t resist looking down towards the source and once he did, he was ensnared. 

The woman’s blonde hair was pulled back delicately behind her ear, pinned back by a simple yet intricate silver hair pin. The rest of her locks were softly curled into beautiful waves that cascaded down her shoulders leading perfectly into her dress and once he drank in the sight of it, he had to suck in a breath. She was wearing a red satin dress which made her figure pop and even though the dress was plain, Bucky swore Jessica Rabbit herself would be envious of all the attention she was commanding. He had to swallow before he opened his mouth, suddenly feeling like he was on fire, “More like a tough week”, he gave a curt chuckle letting his eyes drop to the floor but as you laughed the melodious sound forced his vision back onto you, a sickly feeling of dejavu hit him in the gut:

“Mission report Soldat”, she laughed, smirking all the while at the Winter Soldier who loomed in the doorway. Still dressed in his mission attire he ripped the goggles from his face and then the mask, “You shouldn’t be in here”, he scowled back, placing the items on the table. The asset’s room was bare save for the few pieces of furniture and of course, her. 

She hopped up off his bed and sauntered her way over to him, her hips moving deliciously and soon he realised her game.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”, she purred coming to a halt in front of him, she could smell the strong scent of iron and the faint smell of gunpowder signalling his mission was a success. The soldier refused to look at her in an attempt to keep what little power he had, “You know what they’ll do if they find you in here”, he warned. You giggled and flitted past him, he kept straight-forward and you nudged his door closed, “Don’t tell me that the big, bad Winter Soldier”, you teased him placing your tiny hands onto his broad shoulders with your thumbs pressing into just the right places, “is afraid of having a little fun”. 

In a flash he had you pressed against the now closed door, one hand gripping your hip so hard it was already forming a bruise while the other forced your shoulder into the door. Your scent was tickling his nose, he could smell your arousal, (thanks to his super senses), and he’d barely touched you. His cold eyes bore into your own which sparkled with mischief and when you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, he could’ve moaned. 

In a clash of teeth and a tangle of limbs you were hiked up into the air. Your legs wrapped around his waist mechanically as they had done so many times before while his hand made quick work of your tactical pants and....

“Ugh tell me about it, it’s always work work work”, you smiled graciously, and moved to copy Bucky’s stance, resting your petite figure against the bar, ripping him out of his hidden memory. Bucky felt dazed, like he shouldn’t be here and not because of the fact that he really shouldn’t be, but there was a nagging voice inside his head setting off red flags about you. There wasn’t something right with you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it: was it your otherworldly beauty? The way you spoke like butter wouldn’t melt? Or was it that strange aura that danced around you, making Bucky feel like he was drawn to you. The Winter Soldier had to force himself to speak, “It never stops does it?”.

He risked another look at you taking in your whimsical expression, “No”, you sighed with a hint of agitation, you reached into your cleavage and pulled out a small tube of lipstick, “It really never does”. Your carefully applied it to your lips as you watched the room and had Bucky been more vigilant and less infatuated, he would’ve noticed your eyes were also trained on his target.

Loudly smacking your lips, you tucked the tube back into your cleavage. “How do I look?”, you asked Bucky, your hands on your hips and a wolfish grin graced your features. His eyebrows shot up, he let out a low whistle playing into the theatrics, “Like a million dollars. Who’s the lucky guy?”. This time Bucky didn’t miss the way your features seemed to turn darker, it sent a chill up his spine as you started to walk away, “You’ll see”. You chuckled internally at the expression on Bucky’s face which somehow mirrored that of a confused puppy. Even as you turned away from the brunette you could still feel his eyes burning holes into your back. In an instant Bucky’s expression soured as he watched the mob boss pull you into a hug. You’d played him like a fiddle and he’d allowed it, he could’ve kicked himself for being so stupid. Steve had warned him that there might be others who would’ve also tried to take initiative at this event. Bucky rapidly planned out the best way to deal with you but he fell up short. He was reduced to watching you sway around the room, the mob boss attached to your hip and when your eyes locked, Bucky had never felt more angry when you flashed him a toothy grin. Anger at his mission quickly becoming a failure or anger at the fact that some low life had his filthy hands roaming your body, he wasn’t quite sure.

A voice in your concealed earpiece urged you to hurry your mission up so with one last twirl, you kicked it up a notch. 

Bucky watched, unable to take his eyes off of the way you wrapped yourself around this mob boss. Your lips captured the target’s own in a long kiss that distracted the man. Your hands were quick and deft as you gently took the man’s phone, unbeknownst to him. You slipped it into a hidden pocket in your dress. Had Bucky not been a super assassin, trained to spot things like this, the action would’ve gone unnoticed. “I’ll be right back”, you said sweetly to the mob boss even pressing another chaste kiss against his lips for good measure.

As you turned on your heel, you grinned wickedly to yourself, “Mission success”, you mumbled to the earpiece. You were only a few paces away when a cold hand wrapped around your arm tugging you to a halt, “I think you have something of mine”, Bucky grumbled lowly, his friendly exterior completely dissolved. You feigned surprise, “Excuse me?”. you announced loudly. At the sound eyes drifted to the scene, instantly Bucky knew what you were doing, “Just give it to me then we can go our own ways”, he replied softly. His blue eyes serious despite the way your eyes sparkled playfully, “I don’t know what you’re on about let me go!”. Your display didn’t go unnoticed as the mob boss bounded over, his arm protectively snaking around your waist and pulling you into his side, “Everything okay here, (Y/N)?”.

Bucky was forced to let go of your arm as to not cause an even bigger scene. You nodded your head slowly, doe-eyes glistening with false tears. Bucky was impressed by your acting skills, “Go on”, the mob boss nudged you towards your previous destination, “I’ll take care of it”, then the mob boss turned his attention to Bucky as you skidded off towards the exit.

“Look man, she’s got something of yours”, Bucky showed his hands in a display of false submission, even though he was about to attack the man. Before he could, the mob boss opened his mouth and violently started to choke. He clutched at his neck as his face turned purple. Everything turned to shambles. Chaos ensued as the mob boss’s men jumped onto Bucky, trying to apprehend him for a crime he didn’t commit. In the madness of it all Bucky glanced to the doorway and sure as hell there you were; stood proudly like a cat that got the cream. A blonde wig in one hand, you shook out your real (H/C) locks. Your other hand tapped your lips allowing Bucky to guess that your lipstick wasn’t lipstick at all, but rather a chemical agent. With a cheeky wink and the blow of a kiss, you vanished around the corner leaving Bucky to clean up the mess and report his failure back to his team.

“(Y/N)”, he grunted viciously sucker punching another henchman, seering your name into his memory. It suddenly clicked. He was warned about you. 

[uncomfortable-writers]

“I don’t need, or want help, what I want is for you to get the fuck away from me.” with tony?

‘I can fix this’, Tony’s inner voice was confident as he walked down the corridor which lead to your room. There was no doubt in his mind that the envelope in his hand wouldn’t right every wrong that currently plagued you all because of him, ‘I will fix this’.

Two hard knocks on your door prompted you to open it, immediately you tried to slam it in the billionaire’s face upon seeing him standing there; his usual grace about him although it was a little off, a forced smile on his face like butter wouldn’t melt. You could’ve scoffled. “Wait-wait-wait”, Tony jammed his foot in the doorway, “I brought you a gift”. Raising his hand you snatched the envelope from him, “I don’t want your pity”, you sneered slamming the paper back into his chest. “I’m trying to help you”, there was a pleading in his brown eyes that once would’ve had you bowing to his every whim.

The look on your face was deadly, “I don’t need, or want help, what I want is for you to get the fuck away from me”. The door was swiftly slammed, Tony clenched the envelope as he heard the door bolt, a melancholic sadness wormed it’s way further into his heart.

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Sorry I wrote this on mobile, hope it formats okay 💓

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