#blinkybarnes

prompt list

4: I just love booping noses5: I promise I won’t do it again100: I like it when you do that

warnings: none

word count: 962

- - - -

Thick logs of wood crackle in orange flames, warm air circulating around the Weasley’s cosy home. Holly leaves hang high on the walls, lining the edge of nearly every wall, and the smell of cinnamon and sugar drift from the kitchen to the living room, where you lie front down on top of Ron. His long body takes up the entire sofa, his red head resting on the arm of the sofa. Your legs are intertwined with one another and your head is resting on his chest. 

It’s Christmas Eve. Pots and pan clatter in the kitchen as Mrs Weasley makes preparations for tomorrows big meal. The other Weasley’s are scattered all over the place, some hidden away in their rooms wrapping last minute presents, some fighting gnomes in the garden and some collecting more firewood, though it isn’t necessary when they’ve got magic to keep the fire alight. 

This year at Hogwarts so far had been a drag, it seemed it you endless amounts of homework and revision, all leading up to your exams later on next year. But now is a stress free time and you remind yourself that you don’t have to think about school work until the new year. However, a little doubt still tugs at your insides. It’s your first time spending Christmas with the Weasley’s. You’ve spent school holidays here before and know the whole family very well, but this time it’s different. You’ve brought presents for each family member and worry whether they’ll like them or not, you want to impress them, seeing as they are your boyfriend’s family. 

Ron’s lanky arms wrap around your middle, he can sense something is bothering you by the small frown on your face. “What’s wrong?” He says, his lips close to the top of your head, brushing your hair as he talks. 

“Nothing.” You mumble, still lost in thought. You ponder through all the gifts you’ve got for each Weasley. What if they’ve gotten you something bigger and better? Something more expensive then what you’ve got them? You know money is a problem within the household but the thought still enters your mind.

You turn your head around and rest your chin on Ron’s chest, so that you’re facing him. “Do you think Ginny will like the ornament of Gwenog Jones I got her?” You ask, thinking of the moving miniature captain of the Holyhead Harpies you found on a Quidditch merchandise stall. “I mean they are her favourite team so maybe she already has it?” 

“They are her favourite team.” Ron says. “But I don’t think she’s got all the players, and even if she has it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“Yeah I suppose.” You mumble. 

“Hey, don’t be like that.” Ron gives you a nudge and you meet his eyes. “No one cares what you get them, it’s you spending time with us is what they care about.” He smiles sweetly down at you and you give a weak smile back. You stare down at the maroon wool of Ron’s jumper. He’s probably right. The Weasley’s have never been one to judge, especially when it’s someone they all care deeply for. 

Ron lifts one of his arms off of your back and brings his hand up to your face. One pale finger reaches out and presses your noise, in doing so a ‘boop’ noise comes from his lips. You look up at him, surprised and curious, a smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. He does it again, watching your expression with a playful glow. You laugh and throw him a questioning look.

“What was that?” You laugh and he grins.

“I booped your nose.” He says all innocent and cute. 

“Booped?” You laugh again. 

“Yeah!” He smiles and touches your nose again, gently squashing it up to your face. “I just love booping noses.” He says and you shake your head, laughing. even more.

“You’re weird.” You say. You brush your fingertips over his chin, his pale skin feels smooth and warm under your touch.

“You don’t like it?” He asks, taking your statement the wrong way. “I was just trying to cheer you up.” Shame flashes in his eyes and you lift your hand higher and caress his blushing cheek. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

“No, it was cute.” You chuckle. “I like it when you do that.” 

His blue eyes look down at you and his cheeks turn a deeper shade of red. A shy hand creeps up to your face again and he boops your nose, sending you into a soft fit of chuckles. His lips spread across his face and he confidently does it again. 

With your hand still resting on his cheek, your reach your fingers across and press his nose too, letting out a sweet ‘boop’. Ron’s body shakes underneath you as he laughs. 

“What are you two doing?” A familiar voice asks and you’re almost thrown off the sofa as Ron jumps at the sudden presence of his older brother Fred. 

“Weird coupley stuff by the looks of it.” George replies, standing by his twin’s side stuffing a mince pie in his mouth. 

Ron flushes red all over and stares at a spot on the sofa. “Go away.” He mumbles, eyebrows knit together in a frown. 

“Aw c’mon Ronny that’s not how you treat your lovely brothers. It’s Christmas time, a time for love and joy.” Fred teases, ruffling Ron’s ginger hair. Ron swots his brother’s hand away and frowns deeper. 

prompt list

14: that sounds like a Taylor Swift lyric19: I still can’t believe you’re mine

warnings: thunderstorm

word count: 681

- - - -

Thick raindrops thunder down on the city. The streaming streets are deserted, not a soul in sight. The rain falls heavy against your window. Inside you lie curled up next to Bucky on your bed, watching raindrops streak down the window pane. There’s nothing beyond the rain, just darkness. It’s late and the rain isn’t letting you sleep. 

With his body curled around you, Bucky sleeps peacefully. His right arm is sprawled across your waist, it holds you close to him and keeps you from rolling backwards. It’s cosy curled up to his chest. 

The four walled room is masked in darkness, odd shapes and shadows, that you swear aren’t there in daylight, sit around the edges of the room. Your hands, squashed up against Bucky’s chest, rise and fall as he breathes deeply. Your breathing becomes simultaneous to his. Deep breathes in and out send you into a state of bliss. You bring your knees closer to your chest, curling your body up even more, and wrap your feet around each other. You let out a relaxed sigh. The rain doesn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. 

A crack of thunder jolts your whole body. Bucky stirs next to you. A flash of lighting lights up the room and you see his face contorting into a frown. He grumbles and twists his body backwards slightly, pulling away from you. His right arm lifts away from you and he rubs his sleepy eyes. The arm soon returns, wrapping itself around you even more than before. 

“(y/n).” He mumbles, eyes closed and head tucking down close to yours.

“Yes?” You whisper. 

“Why are you still awake?” He asks.

“I can’t sleep because of the rain.” You whisper through the dark.

You feel Bucky let out a long breathe and his lips press to the top of your head. Another loud thunder rolls over the city. It’s deafening and sounds close. 

“(y/n)?” Bucky grumbles once silence appears again.

“Yes?” You say. Lighting flashes again.

“Can I tell you something?” He speaks into your hair, his slow, hot breath heating the top of your head.

“Of course.” He doesn’t reply and you think that he’s gone back to sleep. Silence passes over you. His eyes are still shut and his breathing is relaxed, though it’s not in sync with yours anymore.

“I still can’t believe you’re mine.” He mumbles deeply. It’s almost inaudible but you catch his sleepy slur. You smile to yourself, a loving feeling arises in your chest. He must have been dreaming about you.

You’ve only been with him for a few months, your relationship is still fresh. The words take you by surprise. Neither of you have expressed any kind of deep feeling for each other yet. You both know it’s there but it’s never been said. The love you feel for him is unconditional, essentially you’re in what they call ‘the honeymoon phase’. Everything is perfect and you couldn’t be happier. The life you lived before you met Bucky seems like a lifetime away, it exists as blur and distant memory. 

At first, you never thought you’d be with Bucky. He was shy and distant, hard to talk to. But over time something blossomed between the two of you.

His sweet confession reminds you of a song which makes you think of him whenever you listen to it. It warms your heart to know that he feels the same way.

“That sounds like a Taylor Swift lyric.” You laugh softly, your shoulders shaking under his touch.

“Who’s Taylor Swift?” He mumbles and you just know he’s got a confused frown on his face. He’s still not up to date with the modern world. 

“It doesn’t matter.” You whisper, an amused smile spreading across your face. There’s no point explaining when he’s half asleep, plus he won’t remember in the morning anyway.

summary: while escaping Tommy and Grace’s wedding, reader meets Michael and immediately becomes intoxicated by him.

word count: 1,407

a/n: peaky blinders is one of my favourite shows and michael is my lil baby and I couldn’t resist writing something about him. I’m gonna start writing peaky blinders stuff now as well.

Being the youngest and only girl of four children doesn’t really have many perks. Your older brothers treat you like a baby, always telling you that you’re too young and deciding what you can and can’t do. This often left you alone cooped up at home with nothing to do. Like now, you find yourself weaving in and out of party guests looking for something to fill your curiosity. Your brothers are nowhere to be seen despite them being the only reason you were invited to Grace and Tommy’s wedding.  

A smartly dressed waiter glides past you carrying a tray of champagne filled glasses. You take one knowing full well that your oldest brother would lecture you about being too young to drink. But you’re only a year off being the legal age and it’s not like no one else has ever drank underage.

Taking a sip of your drink, soft music fills your ears and you move to the rhythm of the band, your pink satin dress swooshing against your legs. You lean your head back and close your eyes, letting the music take control of your body. No doubt people would be staring at you but you didn’t care, most of the people here are too stuck up for you to care about what they think. The song slowly ends and so does your drink. You set your glass down on a nearby table and glance at the crowd. Across the room you spot Grace chatting away with some guests. She looks beautiful, so poised and elegant.

Deciding that you need a change of scenery you wonder into the hallway. The house is so big that you don’t know where to go. Wooden walls and oil paintings cover the deserted floor as you walk further away from the party. You pass an open door way and see three waiters rushing up stone steps, carrying trays of food. That must be the kitchen down there. 

Your feet carry you all the way to the other end of the house, the music from the party is just a faint buzz now. A large oak door hangs open, the night air brushing against your bare skin. You descend the stone step leading outside, your footsteps crunch on the gravel as endless greenery comes into view. You breathe in the fresh air, letting it cool you down. 

A puff of smoke appears from your left and you turn your head to see a young man leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand. You’ve seen his face before, hanging around with Tommy and his brothers, which only means he must be a peaky blinder. You watch him take another drag on his cigarette. He hasn’t noticed you standing there, or so you think, he’s staring out at the neatly kept grounds. A dim wall mount casts dark shadows across his face. You notice how defined his jawline is and can’t help but think he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. Suddenly he looks at you. His hard eyes stare right at you, you’re face rushes with heat as you quickly look away. 

He exhales a cloud of smoke. “Not enjoying the party?” 

“Not really.” You mumble, trying to look anywhere but at him. 

“You’re Alexander’s sister...(Y/N), right?” He says and you nod. A little chuckle escpaes his lips. “Your brother acts way tougher than he is.” You silently laugh to yourself. It’s true, your older brother is more bark than bite. You risk a glance at him, he’s smirking as he places his cigarette between his lips.

“I’m Michael by the way.” His free hand reaches out to you and you hesitantly shake it. His hands are shockingly cold against your warm ones and you wonder how long he’s been out here.   

“That’s a nice dress you’ve got on.” His eyes look down at your dress moving slightly in the breeze. You nervously brush you hair hair behind your ears as you blush and mumble a thank you.

He’s reached the end of his cigarette now and you watch him throw it to the ground, a stream of smoke pouring out from between his plump lips. 

“Want to go for a walk?” He asks. He’s staring right at you, waiting for an answer but you find you can’t speak. Your lips fumble, his handsome face is making you loose your train of thought. 

“Y-yes.” You say and he smirks. He offers you his arm, which you take and the two of you start down the gravel path leading to a wooded area. 

It’s late and the clear sky is full of stars. Warmth radiates between you and Michael, providing a bit of comfort from the chilly breeze. You walk in silence, taking in the surroundings of Tommy’s garden. It’s well kept, the grass cut even and short. There’s a few flowers plotted here and there, adding colour to the place.  

“So, what do you do?” Michael asks.

“I’m sorry?” You weren’t listening, you had been too lost in thought and voice had snapped you back to reality.

“Your job? What do you do?”

“Oh.” You say. “I don’t have a job at the moment, I’m still studying.”

“What are you studying?” He says.

“English, at university.”

Michael raises his eyebrows, seemingly impressed. You blush and avoid eye contact.

“So you’re a smart girl?” He wiggles an eyebrow at you with a joking tone. A soft laugh escapes your lips and the sound of it makes him smile.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one in the family with common sense.” You complain, rolling your eyes. “But no one ever listens to me because I’m the baby of the family.” Your body lets out a sigh.

“I know the feeling.” Michael says.

You continue to walk in silence. You can sense that Michael’s head is turned in your direction, but you keep your attention on garden features.

He’s looking right at you, a look of content upon his face. He’s taking in everything as your face lights up under the clear moonlight. 

You walk the around the whole outside perimeter of the grass, following the footpath back to the house. Michael abruptly stops when you both reach the stone steps leading back into the house. You haven’t let go of his arm and you wonder if he’s noticed, or if he’s bothered at all? 

A group of wedding guests come bustling out of the house in fits of laughter, you watch them disappear down the garden and into the darkness. Your hand lets go of Michael’s arm as he moves, when you turn your head back around you see he’s standing right infront of you. 

An inaudible gasp escapes from your lips at the closeness. Michael’s smirking, his perfect eyes looking deep into yours. His left hand touches your elbow and the skin to skin contact makes your heart race. 

“You look so beautiful in this light.” He breathes, his breath is hot on your cold cheeks. His hand on your elbow pulls you closer to him and suddenly your chest to chest. Blood rushes to your cheeks as your heart races. 

Michael’s head dips down and before you know it, his lips are on yours. Soft, warm lips move against yours. You close your eyes, falling into an uncontrollable bliss. As if naturally, you slide your left hand up his chest and round to the back of his head, where your fingertips graze the nape of his neck. 

Michael pulls away, both of you breathless. He rests his forehead on yours and closes his eyes. He looks peaceful. 

“Let me take you out to dinner.” He says in a hushed tone. His eyes open and stare at you, awaiting your answer.

“Okay.” You say, the heat of the moment getting in the way of your thought process. Even though you haven’t drank much tonight, you feel slight disorientated, Michael has got you flushed.

Michael smiles and takes a step back. His rosy lips are plumped and all you want is to kiss them again. 

“I’ll pick you up at 8, next saturday?” You watch his mouth moves as he talks, noticing how little his mouth actually moves.

feel free to request with any character! and give me credit if you use this list :)

prompt list

11: don’t make promises you can’t keep23: please let me help you22: you betrayed me…

warnings: guns, i think that’s it

word count: 2,377

a/n: this is set during civil war, hope you like it. also i have not proof read this so sorry for any mistakes :)

- - - -

Bucky Barnes was your friend. Your best friend. Someone you cared deeply for. Someone you would risk your own life for. But he was also a criminal.

You’ve known Bucky all your life. Brooklyn was your home, it’s where you met him, young and so full of life, dancing and charming his way through a party. That was before he left for war, before he was branded missing in action, before he was turned into something so evil, before he became a criminal.

70 years you were in that ice. 70 years of not knowing where Bucky was or what happened to him. You’re much like Steve. An old soul trapped in a young body.

He was The Winter Soldier and you were a devoted S.H.I.E.L.D agent. That day at the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, when The Winter Soldier had destroyed nearly all of it’s existence, he recognised you. He said your name. For a brief moment you saw something flash in his eyes. He knew you. 

You were ordered to shut him down but you let him run. He was your friend, you couldn’t do that to your beloved Bucky. You never saw him again after that. 

Now he sits infront of you, locked up and looking conflicted. He’d gone back to his old ways, his Winter Soldier days, and blown up a building in Vienna. When he was spotted fleeing the scene, you were immediately order to capture him, and you did. You thought he had changed. He’d been off the grid for so long. But all that sits before you is a metal armed killer. Bucky’s gone.

Tony, a friend of yours which you have recently grown closer to more than Steve, eyes the long haired man before him. The Avengers are over, no more superheros to spontaneously save the day. You thought it was a good thing, they caused too much destruction. And locking The Winter Soldier up would reduce that. 

But he wasn’t The Winter Soldier anymore, he was Bucky Barnes and he recognised you. He kept his head low, avoiding everyone’s eyes. He was ashamed of himself, even though he wasn’t him who caused the explosion, he still felt ashamed. 

A S.H.I.E.L.D official announces The Winter Soldier to be taken somewhere secure and orders other officials to unhand-cuff Steve and his new friend Sam. They had also been captured by you, they weren’t helping themselves by helping The Winter Soldier and choosing to ignore that the Avengers are no longer allowed to dive into action when danger strikes. But they don’t hold much of a threat and Tony is sure he can convince the Captain to change his mind. 

Steve and Sam are lead away by heavily loaded agents. Steve throws a sorrowful look back at his childhood friend. All he wanted to do was help Bucky, but unlike you, he hasn’t realised Bucky’s gone. 

“Let’s go.” Tony’s voice appears at your side, his hand is resting on your shoulder and he looks at you with sympathetic eyes. He knows Bucky was your friend and how hard it was to go against him. 

You step forward to the glass container The Winter Soldier sits inside. He looks up and meets your eyes.

“I promise you’re safe now and we’re going to help fix you.” You say, looking deep into his stare, hoping that Bucky is still in there somewhere. He stares hard at you, studying your features with a clenched jaw. He doesn’t look like himself anymore. You turn away from him and walk back over to Tony.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, (y/n).” The deep voice of The Winter Soldier grumbles behind you. Or was it The Winter Soldier? He knows your name. 

You spin around, emotions running high. Maybe Bucky is really there, maybe he heard you. 

“You know my name?” You say. 

“Of course I do, we’ve known each other since before the war, haven’t we?” There’s a jokey tone to his voice but his face remains expressionless. You stand awestruck, lost for words. His glass container is wheeled away before you can say anything and Tony’s hand appears on your shoulder again. He’s still looking sympathetic, maybe even more than before, did he hear what Bucky just said?

You follow Tony down a series of corridors and into a glass walled boardroom. A large table sits in the middle, with Steve, Sam and Natasha gathered around it. Tony takes a seat and you do the same, though not before you catch a glimpse of the other room through the glass. Monitors on the walls show a live feed of Bucky locked up. 

Tony slides a piece of paper towards Steve. You know what it is, it’s The Accords, you signed it yourself not too long ago. Steve pushes it back, shaking his head. There’s no way he’s going to sign it, he lives for saving people, he wouldn’t be able to sit and watch danger go by, killing and harming innocent people. He was made to risk his life to save others. He needs to jump into actions when he needs to, not when someone tells him he can. 

Not wanting to listen to them argue, you leave the room and head straight for the monitors. Bucky is your main concern, he remembered you. The screen shows him looking defeated, his head hanging low and his wrists locked tightly to the chair he sits on. You did this. You hunted him down and locked him up. You. You who was supposed to be his friend. But you didn’t know he was still there, you thought The Winter Soldier had taken over his mind completely. 

“Which room is he in?” You ask the agent sitting before the screen. 

“In the basement.” He replies without looking at you, keeping his eyes on the screen. 

You’re out of there straight away, streaming down the corridors, all the way down to the basement. It’s grey and cold down here. The walls are thick and heavily locked. A secure place to keep a cold-blooded killer. 

After turning many corners and peering into open rooms, you reach him. The glass box is situated in the middle of the room and he doesn’t see you lingering in the doorway. There’s camera in all four corners of the room and you know the agent you spoke to earlier can see you. 

“Bucky.” You say softly. He head lifts up and you see how drained he looks. He’s tired of running, tired of trying to hide from everyone. 

“Bucky, I’m sorry.” You say as you move into the room. He stares at you with dark eyes. 

“This is all my fault, I’m so sorry, I was supposed to be your friend.” You stop right in front of the glass. 

“You let me go last time when you knew I’d done wrong, and now when I’m innocent you lock me up?” He looks angry, hard features form over his face and his eyes bore into you.

“I know and I’m sorry.” A sob almost escapes you but you hold it back. “I thought I’d lost you, I thought Hydra had taken you again or maybe you were still The Winter Soldier.”

“I haven’t been like that in a while, I was doing good, keeping out of the way and keeping to myself.” He talks with venom in his mouth, it’s such a contrast to how he spoke to you earlier when he said your name. 

“I’m sorry.” You say again, dropping your head. There must be something you can do to make it up to him, or maybe even earn a little forgiveness. 

You snap your head up to him. “I’ll help you get out of here.” You say in low, rushed voice. He stares at you through the glass barrier, seemingly considering your offer.

“No.” He says plainly after a short pause of silence. “It will only make things worse. Maybe I should be kept locked up forever, it will be better for everyone that way.”

“What! No.” You exclaim, throwing nervous glances over your shoulder. “I can help you.”

Bucky turns his head away from you. “Just go.” 

“Please let me help you.” You beg in a whisper, leaning close to glass, your hot breathing fogging it up.

“You betrayed me!” He growls, snapping his head back round to glare at you. You step back, eyes wide and heart pumping fast. You know he can’t hurt you inside while he’s locked up, but something about the way he looks at you sends fear running through your bones. 

“I know I did and I’m sorry. I believe you, you’re innocent, now let me help you.” You plea. You don’t want Bucky to spend the rest of his life locked up, he’s been through enough already. You glance up at one of the cameras, surely the agents watching is getting suspicious now. 

“I’m going back up to the monitoring room, when the shackles unlock and the doors open I want you to run. Don’t wait for me, I’ll find you somehow.” The words pouring from your mouth in a rush, you’re guessing you don’t have much time before people staring coming down to question where you’re here. 

You turn away from and calmly walk out of the room so as not to draw more attention to yourself. Bucky’s voice makes you pause at the entrance way.

“I’m not do it.” He says and you turn your head to look at him.

“I’ll hold off any agents, but it won’t be for long so be quick.” You say, choosing to ignore his disobedience. Ordering him what to do is better than pleading with him to run, that way he’ll feel more compelled to go. 

You dash off down the corridor and back up to the monitors by the boardroom. Tony, Steve, Nat and Sam are all gathered behind the agents monitoring the screens. 

“What were you doing down there?” Steve asks, his arms folded across his chest. You ignore him. 

“Forgive me for doing this, but it’s the right thing to do.” You say and you pull a gun out of the back of your jeans and point it at the agents head. Someone gasps and from the corner of your eye you see Natasha pull out a gun too.

“(y/n) what are you doing?” Steve asks anxiously, his arms unfolded now and his body on guard. 

You ignore him again and look directly at the agent. “Unlock the shackles and the doors.” You say. You would do it yourself but you don’t know how. 

“I can’t do that.” The male says, his voice shaking. 

“Put the gun down (y/n).” Tony says. He looks calm, like he’s got the situation under control. 

“Unlock them.” You say again, a little firmer this time. 

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asks. 

“He’s innocent.” You snap, glaring at Steve. He of all people should be on your side, Bucky’s his friend too and he believed he was innocent when you didn’t.

“Bucky didn’t cause the explosion and he’s not The Winter Soldier anymore.” You say and turn your attention back to the seated agent. “Now unlock the container and set him free.”

The agents fingers tremble over the controls. 

“Don’t do it.” Tony says to him. “He’s still a criminal.”

“I’m not afraid to shoot you if you don’t do it.” You snap, frustration and impatience flaring up inside of you. Regret is taking over you and you’re starting to fear that your plan isn’t going to work. 

“Please.” You beg. “He’s my friend and he’s innocent.”

The agents looks up at you with a slight turn of his head. Your near watery eyes catch his and you can tell he doesn’t know what to do. 

Then, all of a sudden, he presses something and you hear the sound of metal clinking and locks unlocking. On the screen you see the door of the container swing open. Bucky remains seated, staring at the open door and for a second you think he’s not going to run. But then he stands up and he’s gone in the blink of an eye. 

Tony rushes to shout orders through an intercom and Natasha disappears down the corridor, still holding her gun. 

“What have you done!” Tony hisses at you before following Natasha. 

Alarm bells and flashing lights ring through the building. People pour out of various rooms and levels of the building. S.H.I.E.L.D agents and government officials dodge there way through the crowds, heading for all exits in hope of catching Bucky. You follow, pushing your way down the stairs and racing across the marble floor to the exit, where a hot sun beats down on you and your feet slam against hard concrete. The crowds are bigger out here and if Bucky is among them, there’s no way he’d be spotted, he could easily slip away. 

You run out onto the street and whip your head up and down both ways. No sign of Bucky. He’s either long gone or still in the building. You hope it’s not the latter.

Panting, you look back at the building and the people emerging from it. They all look confused, throwing questions and assumptions at each other. Here and there agents with heavy weapons stand fixed to the spot, scanning the area. You look up at the building, the sun’s flare reflecting off the windows. Something at the top of the building catches your eyes. You shield your eyes with your hand as you look up at the roof of the building. A dark figure moves rapidly across the rooftop and from the silver shine attached to it, you know that it’s Bucky. You watch him disappear from sight, undetected by those after him. He’s got away, he’s free. 

gif not mine

requested: okay so I was wondering if you’d be able to write something where girl!reader and Bucky have always had some sort of weird bond ever since she joined the team and one day they’re out on a mission and she gets taken by hydra and turned into a winter soldier/assassin to kill the avengers. there would be a bunch of winter soldier parallels like “who the hell is y/n” and then once they get her back she is totally broken and Bucky fluff and maybe a kiss?? idk ! love your writing btw it’s the best !!!

warnings: surgical/operation type thingy, fighting 

word count: 1,139

tags: @fandomlover03 @paprika0437 @hellaoppa @evolutionofkatep @mell-bell @hazelbluegold @colie87 @bowties-and-wallflowers 

a/n: I’m so sorry that this has been posted so late at night but I’ve been super busy and really wanted to get it posted today to keep up but my routine of posting a chapter a day :)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6 part 7 part 8

 - - -

“What are we gonna do with her?” Tony Stark questions his fellow avengers surrounding him, as they closely watch you. In the middle of a glass box, you sit on a cold marble floor, hugging your knees to your chest and staring around wildly. After the commotion outside the headquarters, Natasha had dragged your unconscious body into the building.

“Get that tracker out of her neck for a start.” Bucky says. He stands with his bulky arms folded in front of his chest, with a frown resting upon his face. He can’t believe he let this happen to you, months of pain and torture. He of all people would know what that does to a person and it kills him inside knowing you’ll never be the same again.

“How do you know she has a tracker?” Natasha says, a confused frown on her face.

“The small red scar on her neck, that’s where the tracker is, I had one too.” He says and points at your neck from behind the glass. A red line, no thinker than a millimetre, is on your neck, right next to your jawline and just below your ear.

“Well then we need to get it out of her quick, before Hydra gets here.” Steve urgently says. They all glance at you through the glass. When you first woke up, your mission was still fresh in your mind and seeing the faces of your targets staring at you sent you into a rage. But amidst your outburst, you hadn’t noticed that you were in a glass room and ran straight into the clear wall. You had hit your head hard and fell back, shaken a little, but it didn’t stop you. You attacked the unbreakable glass, screaming in frustration. After a while your limbs became tired and you accepted that you were trapped. 

“How are we going to do that?” Tony asks, thinking of how difficult a Hydra trained agent can be. 

“We’ll hold her down while you cut it out.” Bucky replies. 

“Why me? Why do I have to cut it out?” Tony says, sounding dramatically offended which earns a deep scowl from Bucky. It’s not time or place to be immature and humorous. 

“Because it’s not just in her neck, it’s attached to her and you know tech-stuff.” 

After collecting the necessary equipment, the team follow Bucky into the glass box. It’s a bright and spacious place, the atmosphere reflecting the floor: cold. You snap your head up from between your knees and stare at them with wide eyes. Your lips move quickly as almost inaudible words stream out, they don’t make any sense, much like the things going on in your head.  

Bucky takes the first step towards you, the others seemingly too scared to approach you, maybe for their own protection or yours. He treads lightly towards you, hands out ready to defend himself if you attack. Then before you know it, he has your arms pinned above your head and is yelling at Steve to keep your legs down. Like a switch in your head, your assassin mode turns on and you instantly want to kill them all. You twist and turn but Steve and Buck are too strong, though you do move around too much that Tony can’t get clear access to your neck. 

“Natasha hold her torso still.” Bucky orders and the red-head obeys, pressing her weight across your ribs. This infuriates you and you let out an uproar of fury, turning red in the face. Tony hastily pulls out a silver scalpel. Placing it against your neck, he cuts into the skin, a grimacing look on his face. He pulls the cut open, just enough to fit some thin forceps inside to retrieve the tracker. As he pulls out the tiny square plate, blood covered strings follow. You still wiggle under the teams hold, not feeling a thing as you have become numb to pain. 

“Be careful.” Bucky warns, watching Tony’s movements closely. The strings grow longer the higher Tony lifts the tracker. He keeps pulling until the strings are pulled taut and can’t stretch any further. He cuts them away, close to your neck and digs out the roots, any trace of the tracker gone. Tony holds it between his fingers, holding it up to the light. It’s no bigger than a fingernail and has a metallic shine to it. 

“Tony, you need to stitch her up!” Natasha snaps at curious man, her body jumping slightly as you try to push yourself up. Tony stares at her blankly. “I don’t know how to do stitches.” He says. Natasha sighs and mentions for him to switch places with her. He does so and Natasha quickly stitches you up. 

“She’s going to attack as soon as we let go.” Steve says as Natasha exits the box, carrying the blood stained surgical tools. “Let’s go on 3.” He adds. 

“1...2...3!” The three of them sprint to the door and just like Steve guessed, you spring after them. You grab Bucky by the back of his shirt and yank him away from the door. He stumbles but doesn’t fall. You charge at him and wrap your hands around his neck, pushing him up against the wall. Fire burns in your eyes, everything in your body telling you to end him. But your human hands are no match for his metal arm, which rips you away from him and holds you away from him at arms length. Everything aches inside of him seeing you like this. He has spent sleepless nights wishing it was him instead, telling himself that he’d endure the pain much better than you and that his importance to the world isn’t as great as yours. 

“You know me.” He says, his voice calm and defeated. His eyes tearing as they stare deep into yours, searching for a glimmer of hope. 

You grunt and claw at his metal arm. “No I don’t!” You growl and violently pull his shiny arm down, causing him to fall forwards and let you go. You hit him hard in the stomach as he stops himself from landing face first on the hard ground. Breathless, he peers up at you through parted hair.

“Yes you do.” He says. You stare back at him, contemplating if what he’s saying is just a distraction. 

“I only know you because you’re my target.” You say and advance on him, before you can touch him though, a strong grip pulls you back and throws you into the corner of the glass container. 

prompt list

87: you’re stressing me out!

warnings: death, being shot, being traumatised 

word count: 997

- - - -

Hospitals are never a nice place to be. They can stream in all the light they want, decorate the walls with endless flowers and the place will still be filled with dread and death. The walls are bleak and the floor is overly polish, making your footsteps squeak as you walk down the corridor. You remember just a few days ago you ran down these halls in fear. It was dark then and equally as discomforting as it is now. Michael was in a bad way. Shot and hanging on by a thread. You dropped everything and rushed to the hospital. 

You reach the end of the corridor and stop outside a set of double doors with glass windows. The room beyond them is large and full of light. Michael sits awkwardly in a bed situated in the middle of the room. His eyes are closed and he looks uncomfortable.

The doors don’t make a sound as you push them open and walk in. But somehow Michael senses your arrival and his eyes blink open. He doesn’t smile or utter a word as you sit down by his side. You don’t blame him though, he almost died. 

“Morning.” You whisper. It always feels out of place to speak louder than a whisper in a hospital. “I brought you today’s newspaper.” You pull the folded paper out of your bag and place it on Michael’s lap. He looks down at it with a disgusted flare, then picks it up and replaces it on the table next to him. 

“Michael-” You begin to tell him that he should consider himself lucky he’s alive when he cuts you off.

“Where’s Tommy?” His voice is deep and raspy, like when you’ve just woken up from a long sleep.

“I don’t know.” You say, avoiding his eyes. You know exactly where Tommy is. Holding a family meeting without him.

“I need to see him.” Michael says. He’s demanding and his eyes are like ice. 

“You need to rest.” Your voice is such a contrast to his, softer and kinder, whereas his bites off the head of anyone who dares to argue against him. It reminds you of his mother. 

“No!” He snaps. “I need to see Tommy, there isn’t time for rest! Luca Changretta isn’t going to stop at just me and John, I need to speak to Tommy.” His rudeness stings a little but you brush it off. Of course he’s going to be agitated, you are too, a whole gang are after anyone and everyone who knows Tommy Shelby and being alive means you’re still on the hit list. 

“Michael, Tommy has it under control, you don’t need to worry.” You try to reassure him but his face turns meaner than ever. 

“Do you want more people to be killed (y/n)? Tommy doesn’t know what Luca is capable of, or what his men look like…I do and I need to see him before it’s too late.”

“I’m sure Tommy knows all of this. After all, it is him who-”

“I watched John died!” Michael screams, his body tensing and jolting forward a little. You jump at his sudden outburst. Your eyes are wide and you lean away from him. 

“Tommy wasn’t there, he didn’t see what happened. I have to see him.” Michael’s words turn into sobs, real forceful sobs that shake his body. He lowers his head and covers his eyes with his right hand, catching the stream of tears flowing from his eyes. You tentatively place a hand on his bare shoulder. His skin is so soft and warm, something you’ve missed over the past few days. He pushes your hand away and wipes his face. 

“Don’t touch me.” He mumbles.

You sigh. You’re trying extremely hard to be comforting and trying not to let his attitude get to you, but he’s not making it easy. The Michael you know and fell in love with seems to have gone, killed when he was shot. You keep telling yourself that he’ll be back to normal when he’s out of hospital, it’s this place that’s bringing him down. But maybe he’ll never get back to his usual self. Maybe he’s a changed man. Vengeful and full of hatred. What he went through was traumatising, you can’t ever take that back. 

Silence passes over the room. You can hear the faint squeak of a trolley wheel turning somewhere down the hall, footsteps follow behind it. There’s a strong floral odour floating around the room. Too many flowers are in here. It’s suffocating. You stand up, some of the flowers are already dying and drooping. You fish them out of their vase, water dripping onto the floor from their stems.

“Leave them.” Michael says. 

“They’re dead though, they need throwing away.” You hear a long aggravated breath escape Michael. He’s closed his eyes again. 

“I said leave them.” He hisses through a clenched jaw. You put the flowers back, feeling helpless. 

“Why don’t you just go.” Michael says. It’s not a question, it’s an order. 

“Michael-”

“Just go!” He shouts and his eyes snap open. “You’re stressing me out!”

gif not mine

requested: okay so I was wondering if you’d be able to write something where girl!reader and Bucky have always had some sort of weird bond ever since she joined the team and one day they’re out on a mission and she gets taken by hydra and turned into a winter soldier/assassin to kill the avengers. there would be a bunch of winter soldier parallels like “who the hell is y/n” and then once they get her back she is totally broken and Bucky fluff and maybe a kiss?? idk ! love your writing btw it’s the best !!!

warnings: mentions of nightmares, loneliness

word count: 1,507

tags: @fandomlover03 @paprika0437 @hellaoppa @evolutionofkatep @mell-bell @hazelbluegold @colie87 @bowties-and-wallflowers @imaginecrushes

a/n: ahhh I’m so sorry for being away for so long and I want to thank you all for waiting so patiently. Here is the last part of connected, thank you for reading it, everyone has been so lovely and given me a lot of support, it means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy it! :)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

- - - -

White light shines through your eyelids, disturbing you from your sleep. You roll over onto your side and pull the thick covers over your head. But there’s no point in trying to block the light out, you’re awake now. Sighing, you throw the sheets off of you and stare up at the ceiling. There’s a light hanging from it with a dingy yellow lampshade wrapped around it. Square daylight stretches over half of the ceiling. You sit up, feeling groggy and squint at the sudden brightness. 

Beige walls surround you in the shadows. To your right, thin curtains are drawn across a square window, fresh daylight creeps in through the material and casts odd shapes across the room. The thing that draws your attention the most though is the large mirror hanging on the wall directly in front of you. It sits above a wooden dresser, a matching wooden frame travelling around the edges. You stare at yourself, your eyes still struggling to open properly. You look a mess. Messy hair, limp limbs, sagging features and crumples bed sheets. You let out a groan and flop back down onto the bed. You feel like you’ve been sleeping for hours but somehow all the energy in your body has gone. You lie there for awhile, taking in the room and it’s decor. On a bedside table, next to the side of the bed left empty, a photo frame stares at you. In the frame is a picture of yourself shying away from the camera but smiling. Curiosity makes you sit up and reach for the frame, but before your fingertips can touch it the door behind you opens and you snap your head around to see Bucky creeping in. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” He says, sounding surprised. He’s wearing a grey t-shirt which looks like it’s struggling to stretch over his muscular body. His hair brushes his shoulders, hanging limp and wet. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed by your feet. His soft eyes look tired.

“I think so.” You say. “Is this your room?” Your eyes scan the room, already having noticed the large boots infront of the wardrobe and male hygiene products scattered across the dresser you guessed this was Bucky’s room.

“Yeah.” He says, looking round too as if to say ‘it isn’t much’. 

“Did you sleep here too last night?” You can’t actually remember ever falling asleep last night, or where. 

“Yeah, I did.” Bucky says. You must have been in a really deep sleep to not realise someone was sleeping next to you. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright, keep watch over you incase you had any nightmares.” Bucky looks at you with sheepish eyes, as if he’s embarrassed to admit he spent most of the night watching you sleep. 

“Did you have any nightmares?” He quickly asks, unsure whether he’d jumped to conclusions and thought your undisturbed sleep was what it looked like. 

“No, I didn’t.” You smile. This has been the first night in months that you’ve had a good night’s sleep. No images of hydra or memories of torture crept into your mind last night, it was all just bliss relaxation, something you haven’t had in a while. 

Bucky smiles, his head tilting down. It had been his idea to let you out of the glass box. He could see how unnerving it was for you and knew it was no help in getting you back to normal. Every night in that box you lay awake, too scared to close your eyes and even though Bucky visited you everyday, loneliness was starting to take over you. Only he knew what horrors raced through your mind and being cooped up in a prison like container wasn’t going to get rid of them any time soon. The others were quite reluctant to let you roam around free when no one was really sure how stable you were, but Bucky was right. A night in a proper, comfortable bed in a homely environment was what you needed. It isn’t to say that the evil thoughts are gone, but it’s a start. 

“Are you hungry? I can make you some breakfast.” Bucky questions. He seems frantic, like he needs to make sure your perfectly okay before he can relax. 

“Starving.” You chuckle and a small laugh escapes Bucky too. A realisation washes over you. You haven’t felt something this real in a long time, you can’t remember the last time you felt properly hungry or freshly awake. The hydra days seem like a blur now, just a mixture of pain and darkness. 

“I’ll go make you something then, any preferences?” Bucky asks and you shake your head. He stands up and you quickly grab his arm.

“Wait.” You say. Panic flashes over Bucky’s face and he turns to face you.

“I just want to thank you for helping me.” You mumble, avoiding looking at him. Bucky sinks back down onto the bed, relief rushing out of him.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He says. “You did the same for me.” 

You look at him and your eyes meet. His are light and welcoming, a warmth radiating off of them. 

“But I tried to kill you...and the others.” You look away again, feeling ashamed. 

“Yeah and I tried to kill Steve but that didn’t stop him, or you.” He chuckles slightly, hoping you’ll look at him again. He wants you to see how genuine he’s being, but it’s hard when he can see self doubt is taking over you.

Bucky sighs. “I’d do anything for you...you mean the world to me and that day you got taken by Hydra...everything fell apart. I should have kept you safe, like you did for me, but I fail you...” He voice trails off and his gaze drops to the creases in the sheets. 

“We’re connected, you and I. I’ve never felt love for someone like this, it’s overwhelming.” His voice is quiet, soothing to the ear. He reaches across the bed and rests his hand on top of yours. It takes you by surprise at first but the warmth of his flesh on yours is calming. 

“(y/n) I love you...and not just like a sister or a best friend because I know we’ve said that before...I love you like a soul mate, because that’s what you are. When you weren’t here it was like a huge chunk had been ripped from me.”

His words cut like a knife, you don’t deserve this. Or rather, you’re not used to this. The thought of someone ever loving you has seemed hopeless for months, who would ever love a monster like you? And all this time Bucky had loved you. Even when you were trying to kill him, kill his friends, his love for you never changed. 

Silents salty tears trickle down your cheeks. They’re warm and unstoppable. Then suddenly you can’t contain your emotions and violent sobs shake your body. Bucky instantly reaches for you, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pulling to close to his chest. 

“I’m so sorry.” You cry, covering your face with your hands. Months of feeling so alone, so helpless are washed away in this single moment, from those single words. I love you. 

You let yourself relax into his arms, your hands grabbing at his shirt as you cry. It feels good to let everything out. Bucky smooths down your hair and presses his lips to the top of your head, he holds them there, hugging you tighter.

The tears subsiding, you pull away from Bucky and sit up. Still holding onto him, you look at Bucky with puffy eyes. He smiles at you as if you’re the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. Absentmindedly, your hands travel across his chest and up to his face where his stubbly cheeks graze your palms. As you stare at him you think about how no one has ever cared for you this much and how you’ve never cared for anyone as much as you do for Bucky. You can’t imagine caring for someone as much as you did when you met Bucky. It was an instant connection. Like he said...soul mates.