Harry Potter, Sherlock, Doctor Who and Supernatural Imagines

Imagine #174 - You Choose!

❝ If '????????????????' was a feeling, I could relate to it in so many ways~ ❞

Okay, Okay. I'll go to bed when I've finished this chapter.

Imagine your bleary eyes scanning the screen as your fingers tapped lazily across the keyboard in desperation to finish this chapter. You had promised your readers it would be up tomorrow and you wanted to get a head start by finishing the next chapter after your current one. The reason you were so anxious to do this was because for the next week you would be unable to write as you were going to a panel at a small con to meet the cast of Captain America. Since it was small though the only people there would be Anthony Mackie and... Sebastian Stan. You sighed as you though of him, too tired to squeal as you would usually. Everything about him was perfect, his bay blue eyes, tousled dark hair and dazzling toothy smiles.

It was, however, the character he played that caught your immediate senses.

Even from the beginning when you saw his cocky smirk and swaggering walk, you felt the deep, unforgiving, ache in your chest that meant you had fallen for another fictional character. The mysterious side of him though, post-war and brainwashed, was the deal breaker for you; something about his suffering, cryptic aura that begged you to cuddle the negativity out of him, drew you to him.

Coincidently, the story you were attempting to finish was an angsty fanfic about the character in question. Your OC and he had just met faced to face with an un-dead Zola, now she was comforting him as he broke down from the crushing impact of memories from him. You smirked as you finished the last sentence, already predicting the crazy remarks from your readers as you saved the file.

Your bed felt extremely appealing at the moment compared to your stiff chair tucked into your desk. You wobbled over and flopped onto the bed, curling yourself into the blankets, and burying your head into the pillow. With a shallow deep breath you were drifting off to sleep, mind filled with Bucky's adorable scruff...

*~*~*

Bright golden light scorched your eyelids and you groaned softly. Eyes fluttering open you were met with a wide bright window, inviting golden morning light through the turquoise drapes. You frowned lazily, too groggy to realise completely that you were in a different room. You wiggled through the heavy duvet to turn on to your other side, eyes half-lidded and vision still groggy from sleep, but you could see a blurry dark shape in front if you. You frowned head clicking away as you processed what you'd seen. Turquoise drapes? Large window? Cream blankets?

That certainly didn't sound like your room. You sat up and squinted around the room noting the assortment of clothes across the floor, most definitely not yours. You look down quickly to see that you were still wearing your pyjamas and breathed out the sigh of relief you didn't know you were holding.

Holy heckle? Where the full frontal nudity am I?You were about the stand up when a pair of strong arms wound around your waist. You gasped, frozen in fear as it mumbled something and pressed a small kiss to your lower back.

"Morning doll." He groaned slightly, "Come back to bed, it's too early."

Your breath elevated as you recognised the voice. No no no no no no how? He wrapped his arms further around you, a strong chest pressed against your lower back. A sudden sharp pain of cold touched your stomach as he rubbed small circles on the tender flesh, making you jolt. He chuckled pressing kisses to your hip.

"Bucky?" You whispered cautiously. He murmured a, "Hm?" in response, answering your suspicions. You were in bed with James Buchanan Barnes, a person who you had previously assumed as to be a fictional character, and he seemed to be pretty touchy.

He seemed to notice your discomfort and sat up to rest his chin on your shoulder and tenderly kiss your cheek. You blushed ferociously as you felt his soft lips and his pleasantly cold, metallic fingers fiddling with the waistband of your pajamas.

"You okay doll?" He asked, moving your hair away to kiss your neck, before pushing you back so he could look into your eyes, crystal blue and boring into your soul, sending you heart on a feverish frenzy of beating.

This could go one of two ways.

You could jump out this bed, screaming, causing confusion and uproar in the house. Freaking out Bucky, as you'd probably be sent to testing on to how you got here. But you could gain Bucky's trust and not risk lying to him. After how long though? Days, months, years? Could he ever learn to love you?

Or...

You could slip back into to bed with this adorable, sexy, handsome man, who was clearly interested in you, and who you'd been crushing on for years. You could always find Tony Stark (who you assumed must be here too) and explain your situation later. Or maybe you could just lay low and pretend your this mystery girl who he had previously loved. But then you would be betraying him, forcing him into loving someone who wasn't you. He might never trust you again.

Your brain was screaming no, but your heart was screaming yes.

Mind

or

Heart?