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cocosstories · 3 years

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Bucky Barnes One Shot

hi can you make a bucky x pregnant reader where she gets kidnapped and than tortured and injected with the super soldier serum in front of bucky, you can imagine everything else, why she got kidnapped, by who, how is bucky gonna react, how is gonna end. can’t wait!

Yay so I have a request for Bucky. The reader is a medic for the avengers. Her and Bucky have been friends with benefits for more than a year now. Tony throws a party and one drink leads to another and they hooked up. Then she gets pregnant.

You had been recruited to join the Avengers after a chance encounter with Black Widow.

She had been injured pretty badly on a mission and you just happened to be near the scene and jumped into action, using your extensive medical knowledge to patch her up quickly while making sure neither of you got hit from the battle that was still happening.

When everything was said and done, Tony offered you a job as the Avengers official field medic and you jumped at the chance.

You hit it off with the team almost immediately and soon it was like you had always been there.

One particular Avenger you had become close to was Bucky.

Many people had noticed the two of you shamelessly flirting and knew it was just a matter of time before thing escalated to more than friendship.

One night you and Bucky were working out on opposite sides of the training room, both unable to keep your eyes off the other.

You caught a glimpse of the fire burning in his eyes and couldn't help yourself, you walked over and kissed him.

After the initial first kiss, he took control of the situation and this began your friends with benefits arrangement.

You had decided to keep it a secret from the team for the time being and Bucky fully agreed.

It was a few months into your arrangement when Tony decided to throw a party after another successful mission.

You spent most of the night with Natasha and Wanda who you had become very close with but felt Bucky's eyes on you the whole night.

"I thought I would never get you alone, doll."

He says with slurred words as the two of you find yourself in his bedroom as the party dies down.

"Well, here I am Sargent Barnes. What are you going to do?"

You ask, a smirk on your face.

With that, Bucky takes you to the bed and the two of you spend the night entangled together.

Weeks later and you were on yet another mission feeling like death.

"Y/N, are you sure you're alright? You don't look so good."

Steve says, pointing out the green tint to your face coupled with the sweat on your brow.

"I'm fine. Just a bug or som-"

Before you can even finish your sentence, you lean over and vomit in the seat next to you, getting the attention of the rest of the team.

"You are not alright. When we get back to the compound we are getting you checked out."

Natasha says, worry on her face.

You reluctantly agree and true to her word, Nat immediately takes you to the compound infirmary once the jet lands.

"Bucky, can we talk?"

It was a few hours later and you were finally feeling better.

You head down to Bucky's room and knock on the open door.

"Of course, doll. How are you feeling?"

He asks, getting up and walking over to you.

"I'm alright. Dr. Cho gave me something for the nausea."

You reply with a small smile.

"Did she figure out why you were so sick?"

You nod.

"Bucky, I'm pregnant."

His eyes go wide as he takes in your confession before a huge smile crosses his face.

"We're having a baby?"

He asks quietly.

"Are you alright with that?"

Bucky reaches out for your hand.

"Doll, that is the best news I have ever heard."

Tears form in his eyes as he speaks and you realize that he never thought he would ever have a family again and your baby was a second chance for him.

"I love you, Y/N."

He finally admits the feeling s he had been hiding for so long, no longer having a reason to keep them to himself.

"I love you too Bucky."

You say, matching tears form in your eyes just as he kisses you.

"I guess we have to tell everyone now, huh?"

He chuckles and you nod.

"Yeah, but I think everyone will be alright with it."

As you had expected, the team was extremely happy and excited for you and Bucky.

The weeks flew by and before you knew it, you were over halfway through your pregnancy.

You and Bucky were going strong and had even started talking about the possibility of marriage in the future.

Life was good and you couldn't be happier.

One day, the team was on a mission, leaving you alone in the compound.

Late afternoon and you were craving something that you could only get from the store and decide to head out for a nice walk to get it.

As you take in the scenery, everything suddenly goes black and you crumple to the ground.

You wake up hours later, strapped to a table with Hydra agents around you.

"Ah, you're awake. Good."

"What are you doing? Let me go!"

You try and fight the straps holding you down.

"Now, now, just relax. We don't want to hurt you but you are carrying a child of the Winter Soldier and that child belongs to us."

The agent lightly touches you stomach as he speaks.

"You are not going to take my baby! Bucky and the Avengers will find me and save us!"

You scream, trashing against the hold again.

Meanwhile at the compound, the team had come home to find you gone and Bucky went into immediate panic mode.

Everyone went off in separate directions, looking for any sign as to what could have happened.

"Mr. Stark, I found blood."

Vision calls over the coms.

"Is it hers?"

Bucky asks frantically.

"I have analyzed it and yes, it belongs to Y/N. It seems she was ambushed and taken."

The team meets back at the compound as Steve and Sam do their best to calm Bucky.

"She is hurt! What if the baby is hurt! What if they kill her? I can't lose them Steve!"

Bucky cries as everyone watches helplessly.

"Barnes, we will find her. We will bring her and your child home."

Tony says, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder.

"It has to be Hydra. Who else would want a pregnant medic?"

Natasha says, doing her best to keep her own emotions in check.

"But why would they want her?"

Rhodey asks.

"Because she is carrying my child. The Winter Soldier's child."

Bucky replies, pure hatred in his eyes as everyone else realizes what he means.

"Where do you think the would take her, Buck?"

"Where I was kept. Siberia."

Bucky gets up without another word and walks to the jet, the rest of the team following behind him.

The flight to Siberia was a quiet one, the whole team focused on getting to you as quickly as possible.

"Bucky, you need to keep your cool. Your only focus should be finding Y/N and getting her and your child put of there. Do you understand?"

Steve says just as the jet lands and Bucky nods.

You are in and out of consciousness with what seems like dozens of needles going into your arm when Bucky finally finds you.

"Doll, oh god what the hell are they doing to you?"

He says as he begins carefully pulling the needles out of your arms.

"Bu-bucky?"

You breathe out, your vision blurred from the trauma.

"Yeah, its me. I'm going to get you out of here. Just try and stay awake for me."

He says, breaking the straps holding you down and then helping you to your feet.

"Do you have her?"

Steve calls out.

"I've got her. She's barely conscious."

Bucky replies, picking you up and carrying you.

He carefully gets you through the fighting Avengers and Hyrda agents and back to the jet.

"What the hell did they do to her?"

Natasha asks once the team was back on the jet and you were headed home.

"I think they were trying to give her the serum. Or a version of it at least."

Bucky says.

"Trying? They didn't do it?"

"Looks like they didn't have time before we showed up."

As soon as the jet had landed, you were taken to the infirmary, every test possible performed to make sure you and the baby were both ok.

"They're alright?"

Bucky asks Dr. Cho when she comes to tell him he can see you.

"Both perfectly healthy. You saved them. You saved your family, Sargent Barnes."

She smiles and leaves him alone with you.

"Tell daddy thank you, baby girl."

You smile, taking Bucky's hand and placing it on your belly where your baby was kicking.

"Baby girl?"

He asks once he realizes what you had said.

"Yes, we are having a girl and she says thank you for saving her."

You nod, laughing a bit as the baby kicks under Bucky's hand.

"I will always do everything I possibly can to save you and protect you."

Bucky leans down and says to the baby, kissing your belly lightly before looking up to you.

"And you too."

He smiles and kisses you, so thankful to have both of his girls home and safe.

#Dad! Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes One Shot #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Cocos stories

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bbq-hawks-wings · 3 years

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Nope. The piercings came from Cristiano Ronaldo, and while we're here. What do you think made Hawks "free?" The August 2019 interview said he became a yes man for the HPSC so they could protect his identity/self, and I liked the idea that he only worked with them so he could be a hero/only allowed himself to because they were useful/an acceptable evil to get more progress, etc, probably something Robin explained once but I forgot. Now it looks like it was a threat to ruin his career that did it.

(+) I think we could still say it was because he didn't want to stop being a hero, and if the HPSC can so easily ruin his career/prevent him from saving people, then of course he'd agree to the infiltration since its what's letting him continue to save, even if not his preferred method. I have to say though, if they can threaten him with this, does it mean they'd actually do it? Thought they valued Hawks more than that. Guess not? Is this "wonder child" years long investment so replaceable.

(+) Back to my original question. "What made Hawks free?" the release of his history, so the HPSC cant control him through it anymore. Or them being shut down? Probably both, so we go all the way with freedom instead of 50 percent. Hes free from having to work with them, and hes free from keeping secrets. Its one less burden on both fronts. Now I guess, he might be able to come to terms with everything and use it to be the hero he wanted to be. "that child" could reach hearts better than "Hawks"

(You're right, anon 1, I couldn't remember and don't follow sports so I have next to no idea who these athletes are.)

And a different anon whose question I've been trying to get to for a while! 😭

Oh shit. I'm late, but I think I figured it out. That panel where Hawks takes off his mask, saying he's free of his shackles and right below it is the scene with his mom holding his hand? That has a grip on him, like a shackle. His past, his memories, his underlying care and obligations towards his parents, its all gone now. That's why he's free. Dabi released the truth, the HPSC has shut down, his mom ran away. He's alone, but he's free. Everything he knew has let him go. Its sad, its peaceful.

I think you're both right, and I think it was the combination of his mother running away and the HPSC dissolving that broke off his shackles completely, and I think it's because of an innocuous but even more sinister detail from his arrangement.

Hawks doesn't make money and send it to his mom - it's the HPSC that signs her checks.

If Hawks rebelled there's a chance they would deprive his mother to get him back in line. He's at a point where he doesn't care about his own future or reputation, but his mother was at risk as well; and despite going no contact for most of his life he still feels obligated to keep her safe.

He thought she was the source of the leak, but he still got out of the hospital and personally went to her house to check on her and see if she was safe. If she had still been there, it may not have been unlikely that he was prepared to make arrangements to continue to provide for her when the commission couldn't any longer.

His mother said in her letter, "I don't want to cause you any more trouble" and ran away, presumably months ago. He probably could have her tracked down again, but he knows she doesn't want to be found and she gave him permission to completely leave her behind.

He doesn't have anyone holding anything over his head anymore - not orders, not threat of depriving his family, and not guilt for not being there or providing. He can dive in head first and put all his chips on the table. Nothing is holding him back anymore.

#she speaks #let's talk hawks #takami keigo #keigo tamaki #hawks #bnha hawks #hawks bnha #bnha manga spoilers

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theotherjourney7 · 4 years

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"We're going back in time a little for the next hour or so. I am going to live-tweet the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, which occurred on 6 August 1945. Exactly 75 years ago.

This is a sad, horrific day but we need to remember it.

T-1 hour. The bombers are en route, having taken off from Tinian. B-29 Superfortresses, the plane that carries the atomic device - Little Boy - is the Enola Gay. The name was after the pilot, Col. Paul Tibbets MOTHER. Taken from the usual pilot for the mission.

She was only named on 5 August.

They set off about 4 1/2 hours ago. The Enola Gay's callsign is Dimples 82. There are 6 other planes: three for weather recon over targets, one strike obs, one spare.

Enola Gay picks up a message from Dimples 85: "Straight Flush". The plane's job is to assess cloud over Hiroshima.

"Cloud cover less than 3/10th at all altitudes. Advice: bomb primary."

Hiroshima will be the target.

Down below, the city has just sounded the all-clear.

The mission includes one future Nobel prize winner. Accompanying Enola Gay is The Great Artiste, which will do measurements of the blast. On board is Luis Alvarez, who will win the Physics prize in 1968 for developing the hydrogen bubble chamber.

The bomb is a uranium atomic weapon, a type that has never been detonated before: the first test was a plutonium, more powerful, 'Fat Man' bomb. Little Boy is a misnomer, though: the bomb weighs 9700 pounds and is around 3m long.

It is already armed.

Tibbets has ordered no formation flying. The planes with him - Great Artiste and (I am not making this name up) Necessary Evil, are just in visual range.

The Sun is up now. They are slowly rising to about 31,000 feet. On board, the crew says very little.

In Hiroshima, people are beginning their day. They do not know about atomic weapons. It is HQ of General Hata's 2nd Army, controlling the defence of southern Japan. Around 350,000 people live here.

The target of the bomb is the strange, T-shaped Aioi Bridge in the city heart.

T-30 minutes. On board Enola Gay, the mission commander, William "Deak" Parsons, does the final arming, removing the safety devices that could have caused it to detonate if it crashed on take-off. The duty falls to his assistant, Morris Jeppson.

There are 12 men on board. Only one of them, Robert Lewis, is keeping a minute-by-minute account.

Japan comes into view. For Navigator "Dutch" Van Kirk, it is the first and only mission he will fly over the country.

The Enola Gay's flightpath goes over the island of Shikoku and on to Hiroshima. The city becomes clear into view about 50 miles out.

It's a beautiful day.

A total of 3,243 troops have begun physical training in the ground of Hiroshima Castle.

They will all be dead in 15 minutes.

T-13 minutes. Bombardier Thomas Ferebee, in the nose, recognises Hiroshima. He asks Dutch, who confirms they have the target. They will make their bomb run shortly.

T-6 minutes. Ferebee takes control of the plane. The Enola Gay has begun its bombing run. Only Ferebee, Tibbets and Parsons know what the bomb can do: everyone else has been given black goggles and told to expect a flash.

This is what Hiroshima looks like from the air.

Eizō Nomura, is working in a concrete basement of the Rest House, about 200m from where the blast will happen. He will be the closest survivor of the atomic bomb attack.

The other 36 people in the building above him will die.

T-2 minutes. Tibbets begins to count down to his crew.

The worst weapon in history will soon be used.

"10...9...8...7..."

8.15am 6 August 1945. Enola Gay releases the atomic bomb.

It will take 43 seconds to reach the ground. It is already caught in a crosswind and will miss the target. Enola Gay veers upward and immediately begins a 160-degree turn to escape.

The bomb misses its target, and detonates directly over the Shima Surgical Clinic. It releases 16 kilotons of energy, levelling everything in a mile’s radius of the blast. There is a flash… then a blast. Then death.

Within a four-mile radius, fires rage.

Devestation. Carnage. Thousands die instantly. Thousands more will die soon. Around 70% of Hiroshima’s buildings are destroyed. Among the casualties is the mayor, killed instantly while eating breakfast with his son and granddaughter.

Enola Gay is buffeted by the explosion, the men in the flight cabin dazzled like ‘a photographer’s bulb going off’. They continue to fly away, in an arc northeast then southeast of the city. From their vantage point, they see only dust and smoke, “like a pot black, boiling tar.”

On the ground, the death toll is catastrophic. Many more are severely injured, such as from thermal flash burns. Already a firestorm has begun to sweep through Hiroshima. There is no one to help: 90% of the city’s doctors and nurses are casualties themselves.

At the Red Cross Hospital, only one doctor, Terufumi Sasaki, is able to remain on duty and help survivors.

Yoshie Oka, a high school student, messages Fukuyama HQ: “Hiroshima has been attacked by a new type of bomb. The city is in a state of near-total destruction."

Field Marshal Hata is only slightly wounded and trying to take control but many of his staff are dead.

12 American airmen are imprisoned in the city. Eight die instantly; two are executed; two are badly wounded and left to be stoned to death next to Aioi Bridge.

The mushroom cloud has begun to form over the city. On the outskirts, fires rage. Tibbets, exhausted, hands over controls and decides to take a nap. Enola Gay returns safely to base and will arrive at 3pm.

In the carnage, a firestorm has begun (pictured).

In total, 20,000 Japanese soldiers and 70-120,000 civilians will lose their life. It is the worst death toll caused by a single weapon in history.

Three days later, a more powerful bomb will be dropped on Nagasaki.

Please remember why we do not use these weapons.

This has been a very horrible to write but it is important we remember.

This story needs to be told, shared, and memorialised.

Lest we forget.

For those wondering, Enola Gay is currently a museum display at the Udvar-Hazy Center near Dulles Airport in Virginia, US (part of the Smithsonian).”-Kit Chapman

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barelyaware · 3 years

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Purely Political update is up ~

Chapter 1 ao3

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Chapter 2: The wedding

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Zuko and Katara have been spending every meal together since she's arrived.

For dinner, they are joined by both their families and delegations and lunch is a rotation of close relatives. But for breakfast, they are left alone to get to know each other one on one.

Zuko anticipates awkwardness. He knows he's not much of a talker. But Katara seems to fill the gaps between his thoughts with little effort.

They start with safe topics: plans for the wedding and fond childhood memories. Zuko learns of her closeness to her father, brother and sister-in-law. Although he could already tell by the casual interactions between them at shared meal times.

Soon they're talking about anything and everything. What it's like being the only waterbender her age. How she's thankful for her teacher Hama, since the other waterbenders in her tribe are mainly healers. How she likes to learn everything but feels more herself when she's allowed to train like a warrior. How scared she was when she found out about the marriage but how relieved she is now that she's gotten to know him. Zuko opens up about his family. He tells her about Azula. He tells her about how he got his scar. How his uncle banished his father afterwards. He's expecting pity or empty words. But she just reaches for his hand and holds it tightly until an advisor eventually interrupts to bring Zuko to his next meeting. There's a warm tingling in his fingers for the rest of the day.

It isn't an entirely new sensation. He'd felt something similar with Mai all those years ago. But it had been a long time and he's just too conscious of how Katara is so stunning and warm and easy to talk to. It feels..itchy.

That morning it's all he can do to keep himself from reaching out to her...to stroke her cheek...to kiss her. He can feel the tension in his joints and he knows he's being short with her but he can't help it.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His voice wavers as he lies and Katara gives him a pointed look.

“Really?”

“I’m just..thinking.”

“About what?”

Zuko sighs. “About the wedding. About us. About the future.”

Katara’s face relaxes as she lets out a deep breath. “Well of course you are. I can’t stop thinking about it either. I’m so nervous I’m gonna mess up something with the ceremony even though I keep going over it in my head.” She smiles nervously. “But I'm also really excited.”

“You are?”

“Well aren't you?”

He doesn't know what to say. He hasn't allowed himself to be excited. He's been trying so desperately to manage his expectations.

“I'm just really nervous.”

Katara finds his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, we're in this together.”

Zuko wonders how her hand could fit so perfectly in his.

...

The wedding ceremony passes him by in a haze. He does his best not to mumble through his cues and to maintain eye contact with Katara as he speaks.

“You may kiss the bride to seal your vows.”

No. No no no, it's too soon. How did we already get to this part?

Katara is looking at him so fondly it feels like she's clutching his heart in her hand.

He leans into her, meeting her lips soft and sweet.

His chest tightens uncomfortably and it takes all his efforts to maintain a calm facade. He digs his nails into his palm until he can feel his skin rip and finally forces himself to break away from her. His head is spinning.

When they move to the main ballroom and the banquet begins, he feels like he won't make it till the end. There's an ache that starts in his throat and echoes through his upper body. A burning sensation that he can't swallow.

How much longer is this going to take? The question repeats in his head, like a mantra. It's the only thing he can bring himself to focus on. If he breaks his concentration, his eyes will roam and he knows they can't be trusted to behave.

There's so much tension in his body, he feels like he's going to break by the time the feast has ended.

Zuko is feeling feverish with the now persistent ache making its way all the way down to his feet. He walks a tortoise-snail’s pace as they trek from the banquet hall to his chambers. Katara has her own room but they're expected to be together for their wedding night. There's also a clause in their marriage contact for a monthly room share for the purpose of producing an heir. He wishes he could stop thinking about all that entails.

When they arrive he finally let's his eyes wander.

Katara is absolutely stunning in her ceremonial robes. He hasn't let himself look at her properly all day. Her waist is cinched with a beaded blue sash and her curves are accentuated with draped silken layers of gold and silver. He rips his gaze away from her chest when he notices it settle, only to be drawn in by her lips. they're painted red and there's a smudge from when they kissed that makes his head start to spin again.

“Hi.” Her voice is soft and sweet as summer rain.

“Hi.” His voice is ragged and he realizes his breathing is labored. He shakes his head to shift his gaze to her eyes.

“So—”

“—I’m sorry, Katara, but I'm not..I'm not feeling very well right now.” At least he doesn't have to lie. He can guess the way he looks by the concern painted on her face. She's so entirely exquisite, even with her features slightly contorted.

“Would you like me to try to heal you?”

He tries not to panic. If she were to touch him he knows he couldn't control himself. The tension in his body, built up for nothing, would fall apart at once and the hunger he's been suppressing since their kiss (since long before) would rear its ugly head. She would see him as a monster. A fire nation beast taking advantage of a woman seeking no more than friendship with him.

“I can feel that I need to rest,” he ends up saying. Another half-truth.

“Of course. Whatever you need.” She smiles but there's an awkwardness that he hasn't felt from her before. It doesn't feel like her. But you've just known her through letters. You only met a week ago. How could you possibly know her enough to say? The thoughts manifest into new aches in his body.

“Thank you for understanding.”

Chapter 3

#Fic #zutara fic #zutara #my fic #zutara month 2021 #zutaramonth #Katara fanart #My posts

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thiswreckageivebecome · 5 years

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The Winter Soldier is Still Here (Part 25 - “Hail Hydra”) (Bucky/Winter Soldier x reader)

Description: You’re working at the local farmers market when you meet Bucky and catch his eye, not only because you’re the only one who sells plums, but because you treat him like a normal person. As a friendship begins to bloom, it quickly grows into a relationship and you learn that life with Bucky isn’t as easy it originally seemed. I SUCK AT DESCRIPTIONS!

Word count: 2044....a short one, I'm sorry, but I thought a short update might be better than none. In the words of Peggy, “It’s been so long.”

Warnings: Language.

Author’s Note: I don't own art.

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READER POV

__________

I stared in disgusted awe at Jake. This...this was not happening. He was...

"Jake, " I asked almost silently. "Who are y-? Why? What is going on?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh please, " he now spoke with a heavy Russian accent, "don't even start with dramatics and hysterics. None of that will help you. Nothing will, really. Oh, the Asset thinks he will save you. Hell, he probably believes he'll sacrifice himself for you, but no. He has no idea the storm that will soon hit him."

"But, Jake....you're...you're... what about the hospital? The hike? Our relationship."

"Oh, you thought that was real," Jake questioned in the voice I recognized. Then he laughed aloud. "Woman, you're a fool. The Asset really fucked you up, didn't he? You fell so easily into the trap. You've been the easiest target we've ever had. If you had left him be you'd have never become involved, yet here you are, still pining for him in New York."

I attempted to get up but the threatening tone that propelled itself at me stopped me cold.

"Don't dare fucking move, you bitch."

"I just, I don't understand. Any of it."

"Боже. ты идиот, но теперь долго, маленькая сука. Look, you're pathetic so I'm going to tell you this and then it's lights out. I'm not Jake. I wouldn't have such a trashy American name. You were the target to get to Barnes. Soon enough he won't remember you and you'll have no way of remembering him. Therefore, rest well knowing that you're the reason he will be serving Hydra once again."

As promised I was unconscious in the next second. The last thing I remembered was his cold hands around my throat and the room slowly dimming until there was nothing but pitch black.

BUCKY POV

___________

I ran to the weaponry faster than I had run in quite some time. I had to get to (y/n) soon. If I didn't get there quick enough, they'd kill her just for spite. As I got to the vault, a message came through on Steve's phone which I would have to steal. It was a location: Jumping Jack Powerplant. While the actual location of this plant had been erased from public record, I knew it well as the hideout Hydra had used when it was after Nick Fury and after its full control attempt at overtaking S.H.I.E.L.D. The location had to be close enough to D.C. to arrive in a short time yet far enough so that it was off of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. I quickly grabbed all of my usual choices: Gerber Yari ll Tanto, SIG-Sauer P220ST, and Vz.61 Skorpion. To be honest, I didn't plan to put up much of a fight unless that's what it took to free (y/n) and get her to safety. Otherwise, I was planning to do what they asked but it was best not to go empty-handed. I closed the vault quickly and as I turned around Natasha was standing in front of me.

"Barnes, what's going on?" The tone of her voice told me she already had a clue.

"Nothing, Natasha. Don't tell anyone I'm gone. I have to go." I pushed past her but she quickly caught up.

"It's Hydra isn't it," she asked as she followed me down the steps. I'd make it downstairs quicker that way.

"Natasha," I called over my shoulder, "please, just go back and pretend you never saw me."

"No," she wouldn't leave me. I halted and turned to her quickly but before I could speak, she figured it out.

"They've got her, don't they?" Her words hit me again like a fresh ton of bricks, the reality sinking in more than it already had. I halted for a second to stop myself from stumbling as the weight on my chest began to cave in. I began to continue my descent but she didn't move.

"They're just trying to get to you, Barnes. They only want you."

"You think I don't know that? I don't care. I can't let her die on my account."

"Just so we're clear."

She quickly caught up with me and actually passed me. By the time I made it down she already had the vehicle pulled to the door.

"Get in." After I was in and the door just shut, "where to," she asked.

"Jumping Jack Powerplant. It's North o-"

"Of D.C. Yeah, I remember." I simply nodded. We rode in silence for quite some time. When we were about 15 minutes out, she broke the silence. "So what's the plan when we get in." I remained silent. "You do have a plan, right," she asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Kill anyone who gets in my way to (y/n)."

READER POV

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I awoke with bright lights shining in my eyes, lights so bright that I immediately had to squint. There was a beeping noise. It started to speed up and then I realized it must have been a heart monitor.

"The stupid princess awakes," Jake...or whatever his name was...spat. "The asset isn't here yet so you might as well calm down. No use in screaming either, no one will ever hear you and we made it where you can't reach your full voice anyway."

I tried to speak but no sound came out. I began to panic. What had he done to me? He smiled.

"You're one of the most stubborn women I've ever met. I just told you-you cannot reach your full voice, yet what is the first thing you try to do? You won't be able to scream or even speak for a while. You might as well calm down, otherwise, I'll put you back under." I attempted to calm down. I needed to be as aware of everything he would do as I possibly could. I tried to lie still and keep my face even and emotionless. After a few moments of this, he commented on it. "Hmm, maybe there's a reason you and the Asset got along so well. You're both able to turn off your emotion so well. Granted I'm sure the serum helps." I had to stop my eyes from growing and becoming restless again as he got ready to continue.

"You know, this little serum right here," he held up a syringe that held an almost clear, slightly blue-tinted liquid inside, "took us many years to perfect but once we did, we made vats of it. We keep it stored safely away in a top secret location, of course. I can't wait to use it on you. The ladies always have the best reaction," he finished explaining eerily. He began wrapping an elastic band around my arm and I couldn't remain calm any longer. I started to try and shake the table straps loose so that I could, in turn, get away. I knew it was useless but I had to fight. If nothing else, maybe I could keep him from getting whatever serum he was so in love with, within my body. I couldn't scream but that didn't stop me from trying. I could feel the tight sinched air attempting to scratch its way out into the warehouse but it wasn't going far. I didn't struggle for long. He stuck a different syringe quickly in my arm and there was the darkness that immediately surrounded me.

BUCKY POV

———————-

Natasha parked far enough away that we wouldn't be detected and I got into the driver's seat and drove slowly up to the building, on high alert for any sneak attacks. I knew Natasha wouldn't be far behind me, probably already making her way into the building before I pulled up and parked outside of the locked fence. After I took a quick observance of my surroundings, I got ready to jump the fence when the gate to my right began to open. They knew I was here. They had learned how to hide their cameras better than they had in the past.

I entered the grounds, even more, hyperaware of the fact that they had eyes on me even though I didn't have my own on them than I was before. After I had walked about 15 feet I saw them, I saw him. I recognized him immediately which was surprising considering I couldn't remember much else. As soon as he spoke I knew this was the man who had posed as Jake.

"Charscovsky."

"Soldier."

"What an honor that you'd meet me at the entrance, " I attempted not to sneer. All he did was smile mischievously.

"Oh, come now, Soldier. You act as though we weren't close once."

"You and I have very different definitions of 'close' then."

The eerie smile never left his face. He turned on his heel and began to leisurely lead the way into the building. As he led me in I noticed just the faintest blur of red hair to my left before I entered and I was grateful in that moment that Natasha had refused to be left behind.

"(Y/n) has had such wonderful things to say about you."

"Take me to her."

"Oh, now, now, Soldier. You'll be reunited soon enough. First, we need to discuss a few things."

"We don't need to discuss anything except you telling me where (Y/n) is. Once she's out of here we'll discuss whatever you like."

"You see, that was a huge problem that we never did perfect with the soldier serum."

He waited for me to respond but I refused. He stopped at a door and turned to look at me.

"You're not curious, huh? I suppose I'll say it anyway. It'll be valuable information to you very soon."

He paused again waiting for a response but when he realized I wasn't going to, that smile he had held for the entirety of the time since our eyes had met, began to fade which almost brought one to my face.

"Whether you're curious or not, Soldier, what I'm referring to is the ability to negotiate. You see, we didn't think about that at the time. Elimination and defense were the prime qualities we wanted but now, looking back, I can see it is something we will need to work on in the future. I imagine you'll soon wish we would have too." He arrived at a door and stopped. Four guards stepped between us as he leaned down and pressed his face to a retinal recognition. I suppose they knew I would be tempted to attack and dissemble in order to get to her if he were left unprotected. I heard the door unlock before opening into darkness. My body tensed as I didn't know what this meant. He waved off the guards so that they walked behind us and he led the way into the dark.

I then heard two thumps on each side of me. I turned, fully alert, ready for a fight, but instead, I saw nothing but as the room lit, a dash of red flew past me and took down Charscovsky, pinning him to the floor.

"Oh," he smirked, "Ms. Romanoff, what a pleasant surprise."

"Where is she?" Natasha sneered.

"Oh yes, you have become fond of her too, haven't you?" Natasha pushed down against his throat more, so that he had to put more effort into continuing, "не волнуйся, ты скоро ее увидишь." He smiled again, mischief playing happily across his eyes. Natasha stood and jerked him up along with her. I stepped to him, toe-to-toe. "Where the hell is she?" I was now snarling. He smiled and remained silent a moment. He was clearly enjoying himself.

"Oh, зимняя принцесса," he said louder as if he was calling to someone else.

"What?" Natasha quickly questioned.

"No," I said, not wanting to believe what he was saying. Fear and anger took me over. My vision blurred. "No!" I exclaimed, pushing him into the wall to my left. My left hand grasped his throat, the metal plates of my arm shifting to strengthen my grip. All the while he smiled.

"Bucky, what is it? What's he saying?" Natasha asked, worry filling her tone. She didn't have to wait long to find out.

#bucky fic #the winter soldier is still here #fanfiction #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #Sebastian stan #my writing

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chocolatemillkk · 5 years

Text

Call me Out (CM)

"Soo what are we doing again?" I ask for the fifth time, hugging my arms to my chest. It was an unusually cool evening in LA and although my bottom half was covered appropriately in a pair of jeans, I had on only a tube top leaving my bare arms covered in goosebumps.

"Well Rick forgot his ID and so did Omar and Anth's still on the damn phone." My friend sighs. "So I don't know!"

"Just go to the club without us!" Rick says for the millionth time and I seriously wonder why we didn't do just that. "We'll come next time."

"The whole point was to go together since we've all finally got fake IDs." Omar pouts. "They can go if they want. But-"

"We could go to one of those all-age clubs-"

"No! No, those suck-"

"I have an idea." My friends all pause at the new voice. It was Anth's friend Conor who he introduced us to earlier that evening. We'd all said hello and included him in the group without a question even though he was obviously British and not from around here. Which we all secretly thought was really cool...but were just too LA to admit. But Conor hadn't gone unnoticed for me-catching my eye and sending my heart racing. Not only because he had the same accent as my favourite movie ever made at the time (Bridget Jone's Diary) but he was cute in a way that wasn't intimidating. "Those of us with ID can get the beer and we can find some place to hang out." Conor licks his lips. "We can still make the most of the night that way."

All eyes are on the group newbie until Omar speaks up, obviously relieved from his fomo: "You're genius. Let's do that."

"Okay, my basement's empty we can head there. So how about Y/N goes and..." Malia stares at our newcomer for an uncomfortable second as she blanks on his name.

"Conor." I cut in. "Conor and I will go."

At the sound of his name, Conor looks up sharply at who said it. I feel myself blushing clumsily as I try not to look as excited as I felt but I couldn't help it! I would finally get some time alone to get to know my sudden new crush.

Since the closest liquor store was right up the street, Conor and I head off and tell the gang we would meet them at Malia's. As we walk, I'm nervous. I fold my arms into myself, and then unfold them, and fold them again before Conor offers his leather jacket.

"Oh I'm fine," I say politely. Damn. I wasn't fine in any way. But I couldn't just accept his-

"No take it. I'm warm." Conor begins stripping the jacket off before I could politely decline again. "I've got a jumper underneath anyway."

"A jumper?" I ask, looking at the sweatshirt he wore underneath and back up at his face.

"Yeah," he picks the fabric up to show me. "A jumper?"

I take the jacket from him and eagerly drape it over my shoulders; its leftover warmth blankets my body. "Is that like, a British thing?" I ask, intrigued and still staring at him, forgetting we should be continuing our walk instead of standing under the street lamp.

"I don't know...I guess?" Conor seems just as nervous as me as he shoves his hands into his pocket. I tug the jacket closer around my body which catches his attention, his eyes roaming all over me. I sense a shift in him, almost unnoticeable except in the way that he finally meets my gaze.

"You've got really nice eyes," he says and then immediately looks away.

"Thanks," I laugh nervously. "You've got a really toasty jacket."

He looks back up, his cheeks a slight pink under the sodium lights, and his tensed face melts into a smile that warms me up from the inside. He has a playful glint as he tugs at the jacket's lapel, "I'm a hot guy-didn't I already say?"

He was hot. But I don't stroke his ego. I turn away instead, continuing again on our trek to the store, calling out behind me. "If I remember correctly the only thing you said was you were warm!"

He laug loudly into the night and the ice between us. We begin talking and asking about the other, greedily tearing up the rare time alone, wanting to know each other as well as we could before we had to return to our group. By the time we get into the liquor store I've told him about growing up in LA, how I hated school, and how my brother drove me crazy and he's told me about the town he's from, his younger brother and sister, and why he was in LA--to work on music. And I was impressed, he was only my age.

"So are you any good?" I ask him as we track down the aisle with the cheaper beer. We're the only ones inside so we try not to draw too much attention.

"No. Not yet," he laughs and his face does the squinty thing I'd started to find adorable. I stare at him as he leans down and picks up two cases.

"Well will you let me hear it? When it is good?" I ask seriously.

He straightens up and turns to me, nodding his head vigorously. "Yeah," he answers, his voice suddenly serious. "I will."

Two Years Later: "I've heard it then," I'm on the phone with Conor as I look out the taxi window into the crowds of tourists. I was on my way to my boyfriend's place and the radio surprised me with a familiar voice. "Your song just came on the radio and I've finally heard it!"

"I was on the radio?" Conor asks from the other side of the world. I wished he was here to hear it with me so I could see his reaction myself. "You heard me in LA?"

"I'm in a taxi," I say. "And I'd recognise your stupid voice anywhere."

"And?" Conor asks, not hiding his excitement at all.

"It's still not good-I told you to only show me when-"

"Shut up!" Conor shouts and I have to move the phone away slightly as his belly-laugh emenates from the phone. "You're a little shit!"

"No!" I insist. "You're shit!"

"Don't say that," Conor's humour is slowly leaking out of his voice and I decide I'd taken the joke far enough.

"It’s-as you would call it-bloody amazing! I was totally kidding. The song. Is. Amazing."

"Really?" Conor asks, his excitement apparent again.

"Yes!" I shout. "You should be so proud of yourself! Soon you'll be as big as Beiber!"

We go back and forth as he shies from the compliments and finally accepts them. We move onto the cliffnotes version of life updates before I reach my destination and tell him I had to go. This was the way it had been with Conor and I over the two years we'd known the other. After an intense first time hanging out, we'd eased up and stuck to the safe option of being good friends. The constant distance between us and the fact that we shared a mutual friend group, prevented us from hooking up-if things went south, it would be very awkward. Plus, we were both busy figuring out our own futures. Mine, currently, was going to school so I could get into acting.

But I still couldn't control my erratic heartbeat whenever I spotted Conor in LA. There was an undeniable attraction, made stronger with the easy chemistry we had. He had a pull on me none of my other crushes or boyfriends ever had. But after a few weeks every time, I had to let Conor go back home to London and as painful as it was each time, it would be made more painful if we were anything more than friends. So I simply chalked it up to a juvenile crush and forced myself onwards.

One Year Later: "Y/N..." Conor pulls his pants onto his hips and secures it with a belt. "I don't know what to-"

"It's fine," I laugh like I thought everything that had happened over the last 10 hours was all one big joke. But my hands shake under the covers and I have a hard time looking him in the eye.

I had turned 21 yesterday and my boyfriend dumped me the morning of because I was being too "clingy”. He was leaving in the afternoon, flying out across the country for some modelling jobs he'd landed and I was mildly upset he had to leave on my birthday. Meanwhile, Conor suprised me at my apartment, completely oblivious, with birthday champagne and a balloon he'd stuck a picture of his face on. It was his only free night because he had to fly out the next morning.

But he'd found me: mascara on my cheeks, crumpled pyjamas, and a fistful of tissues. He sat and listened so patiently before helping me clean up. Once I'd cried it out however, the inevitable happened. We popped the champagne, swore at my ex, drank the bottle between us, and then reached for each other. Because of loneliness or our long history, we ended up in bed. My bed. And I wish I hadn't drank so much so I could remember even half of it but as soon as I woke up I knew I fucked up. I was simultaneously heartbroken over my ex and absolutely gutted that my first time with Conor was under circumstances like this.

"You were comforting me. We're both adults now and we made an adult decision right? It's fine." I sit up, making sure the blankets were wrapped tight around my torso. Conor looks at me hesitantly, his hands dropping to the side and he looks just as gutted. We weren't supposed to let this happen. Not like this. We knew eventually we would sleep together with all the sexual tension we had between us-but never ever like this. This felt cheap...we could barely even remember it.

"So you're okay I have to go again?" Conor asks slowly.

"I'm fine. You have a life to go back to." I say more confidently than I felt-I didn't want to be clingy again. And what would I even say if I wasn't okay? It was a stupid question to ask. "And my shift starts in a couple hours anyway-acting doesn't pay the bills!"

Conor throws his shirt on before sitting beside me. He looks down at my hands clasped around the covers and then my collar where the pendant I always wore rests. He picks it up and rubs it like I usually did when I was nervous. It was hard to reconcile the person Conor put on in public to this gentler version of him in my bedroom. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I'll see you on the big screen soon enough."

"You'll only see me when I'm good enough," I give him a wry smile, calling him out. He drops the necklace, his hand curving around the back of my neck. For a split second I think he was maybe going to kiss me again but he kisses my forehead instead. I close my eyes, stretching the brief millisecond into an hour, or two, or five. I create some alternate timeline where I can do this all over, so that when Conor kisses my forehead it doesn't feel cheap with regret and stink of pity.

Fourteen Months Later: "It's nothing!" I pull my hand out of Malia's grip but she grabs my hand again.

"You call that a promise ring?" She asks skeptically of the diamond ring my boyfriend had gifted me yesterday evening.

"Promise ring?" Anth asks as he comes back with Conor who'd arrived late-a bad habit we'd all gotten used to. I try to stuff my hand back into my hoodie but Conor catches the light glinting off the diamond. I don't want to see his expression but I can't help but watch as it falls, a look of betrayal settling in. It wasn't my fault-not really. Conor and I kept up a false pretense of being friendly after the last time we saw each other but we unravelled quickly the longer we went without addressing it. How could we be the same when we suddenly carried so much baggage?

Our relationship suffered. Meanwhile, my boyfriend came back to LA on his knees begging for forgiveness. He had been stressed out about his shoots and he regretted our breakup as soon as he'd landed at JFK. So I kept my own regret from that night to myself and taken him back. A month in and we'd moved to New York for the year where he modelled and I miraculously landed a very small Broadway part. When we moved back, he'd given me the promise ring. That was last night. Malia messaged me this morning to tell me the gang was in town and we were meeting up again. I didn't realise Conor would be there too. Our conversations had fizzled out once he realised I’d moved to New York with my boyfriend.

"Y/N's settling down," Anth teases. "Y/B/N is making a wife out of you!"

"It's not an engagement ring guys!" I insist but it sounds false even to me. It was supposed to be one. But the look of horror on my face when my boyfriend got on one knee at the beach had him stuttering and then insisting it was just a promise ring. So I had accepted like the coward I was because I was too scared to be on my own again. Three years of our relationship and Anth was right-I was settling.

"That's a big ass diamond," Conor jokes but it has a sharp edge to it. "Good for you. So uh-I'm getting a drink."

When I track Conor down, away from the group, he's stony faced.

"It's been a while." I say, feeling like that first night we met when I didn't know how to talk to him.

"Yeah," his eyes flick down to my hand. "A lot's happened it seems."

"Con-" I try.

"I'm alright." Conor cuts me off.

"No. You're not." I call him out.

He clenches his jaw, glancing at me and then sighing. "I know we fucked up Y/N but why did we just stop talking? You're bloody engaged and why am I only finding out now? I've never even met your boyfriend!"

"It-I know-it's complicated. We...complicated things!"

"It shouldn't be complicated! It was just sex!" Conor shouts. "It wasn't complicated! I'm still your friend!"

"Right..." I look down and try to blink away the sudden tears. That all it was to him? "Right. Yeah of course...obviously-duh! It was! I just got...I was unsure! I didn't know what you thought about it. But I'm cool if you are. We're still friends?"

"Yes we're still fucking friends!" Conor is instantly a ball of sunshine as we slip off our past like an oversized, stuffy jacket. I grab his hand and intertwine our fingers, trying to toss out the confused emotions I was feeling. Conor squeezes my hand and I snap out of my thoughts to his smiling face and when he looks at me it feels like that night, I first saw him smiling under sodium lights. When we wouldn't even know this was how we would turn out. I wish I could go back then. Maybe tell Y/N to keep things simple.

As his mouth moves to tell me something, I can’t focus as my head buzzes with the words he'd said earlier. But maybe it's better this way, I think. I didn't want to end up hating Conor, or be hurt by him, when I cared for him this much. I would just have to see it his way, I decide. Just sex. Only friends. "-always your friend."

One Year Later: "Happy birthday!" I shout at Conor. He was in LA for his 24th and the party was massive. Like this-many-people-could-never-fit-in-my-house massive. "Look at you! You're so spoiled now!"

Conor crushes me against him-it had been a good six months since I'd seen him. I was travelling all over for a movie I'd gotten a small role in and barely had time to see friends let alone Conor. I missed his energy. And he was super famous now too. Somewhere between seeing him last on New Year's, breaking up with my boyfriend and moving out, auditioning like crazy, and finding a role-Conor had blown up online and my heart swelled every time I saw his ad or his music somewhere. Despite our messy mishap, I'd realigned myself to realise Conor and I could only ever be friends.

"I love your jumper," I say-the term an inside joke by now.

"This is actually a hoodie." Conor teases.

"Fuck I can never get the terminology right!" I laugh and wrap my arms around him again, his "hoodie" a snug fabric to rest my head on.

"Y/N." Conor says seriously so I look at him again, concerned. "Y/N I-I think I'm finally good!" Conor shouts in my ear and when I give him a questioning look he explains. "My music! I think it's finally good enough!"

"Oh Conor," I can't help but grab his face between my hands and squish his cheeks. "It was always good enough!"

Conor laughs causing his face between my hands to morph oddly so I let go. "You're not as much of a bitch as you used to be!"

"Watch your mouth!" I pull his hood over his head and continue tugging it over his face until he apologizes between laughter. When I let go, he takes off the hood and wraps his arm around my shoulder. We stay that way for the rest of the night as he introduces me to everyone we meet. They all assume I'm his girlfriend, joking with me that I should watch out. And I didn't blame them with the way Conor's hand was always on my shoulder or my waist, my hips, touching my hair, leaning in to say something in my ear. I crave his touch every time I don't have it and by the end of the night, I feel drunk on desire more than any of the cocktails I'd had. So when Conor looks at me with a question in his eyes at the end of the night, I don’t call him out. I simply take his hand and go back home with him. Just sex. Only friends. Always friends.

Eighteen Months Later: Since Conor's 24th, we'd made a routine. Unless one of us were in a relationship, every time Conor was in LA, he would stop by. We'd catch up on life and then end up in bed for however long he was here for.

"I'm only in LA for two week." He would say. Or "I go to New York next week." Or "I have a flight on Thursday for Dubai."

It wasn't permanent, he meant to remind me. It wasn't a relationship. It was just sex. And we were just friends. And this was just a bad habit. Or a good habit-was there such a thing? I always looked forward to it. It felt like we were each other's safe space, a secret the other held close to their chest. Minus the emotional attachments of course. It happened so often like this that I'd forgotten I ever wanted more. Being like this actually gave us more time to catch up on every detail of each other’s lives. We opened up about our insecurities, our goals, and all our shared memories. When Conor was staying longer he would work on things in the same room I was in or he would help me practice lines and we created small bubbles in time where everything was blissful between us as long as we were together. It was harder some days than others like when I wanted to kiss him in public or gush to my friends about him-but it was worth it to be close again.

Months Later: I had my first anxiety attack that morning. I didn't even realise I was having it until my knees hit the carpet and I tried to look up at the time.

I had a big audition that afternoon for a children's movie. My agent was so sure I was going to get it-she'd talked me up to every friend she had in high places and knew the company hiring so I knew I had it in the bag yet a movie on such a scale was terrifying. Conor had told me he was coming over after auditions to see how it went and I was oddly nervous to see him too-I'd gotten out of a short relationship so it had been a while since Conor and I got together. And then my mom called me worried about my brother who'd been making all the wrong choices in life as of of late which kept running through my mind. So when my agent called to tell me they wanted a Skype interview now, I knew that usually meant it was a courtesy interview and they didn't actually want me. I did the interview with a really bad connection, my anxiety heightening with every scene looking at their impassive expressions. As soon as it ended, I ignored my agen't phone call and suddenly found it hard to breath, my vision narrowing as everything looked off, and the room tilted around me. I fell to my knees and located my phone, calling the only person I knew who'd understand: Conor.

By the time he arrived, I had managed to calm down but I still couldn't take a deep breath nor could I talk in full sentences. Conor squeezed my hands and helped ground me until I could focus and then he'd gathered me in his arms so carefully, so lovingly, that it scared me enough to start crying. He mistook this for being sad about not getting the part and helped me to bed, setting up his laptop beside me. I didn't correct him, falling asleep as I felt exhausted, and awakening to a vibrating hum.

I don't open my eyes, anxiety clutching my chest as I remembered where I was and what had happened. But the humming beside me helped, the dread slowly unravelling it's hold on me. When I do open my eyes Conor's concentrated on the screen as he hums the same few lines again and again. And the tenderness with which I felt towards him sends me tipping into the panic zone so I get up and yank the covers off. I couldn't do this. We said we wouldn't.

"Hey you're up," Conor looks at me. "I'm gonna hum something does it sound like something you've already heard or is it-"

"You have to go." I say abruptly and he stops talking immediately. "I need to be alone Conor please go. Now."

He stays for a heartbeat before closing his screen and getting out of bed. His mouth opens to say something but he looks at me and closes it, bowing his head and moving out the door. I listen as he leaves and take a deep ragged breath. I felt wild, like a frantic ball of confused energy was buzzing within me like a pinball machine. Like a panic attack hangover and as soon as Conor goes I want him back. I make it so far to the front door when I retreat until my back hits the wall. What was I doing? But I craved the comfort of his touch and it urged me to call him back. I couldn’t though. He wasn’t my boyfriend, I couldn’t keep doing this. But the sudden sound of a knock at the door echos my pounding heartbeat.

I carefully open it to Conor, running his fingers through his hair. I barely register what he says; opening the door wider, just wanting him back in. He drops his bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him. In an instant, his hand finds my waist, our foreheads touch, our eyes locked. It felt like we were the center of a volcano of passion and desire, boiling as his hand tightens on my waist, bubbling as my hand slips around the the base of his neck, simmering and leaking as I close my eyes and he crashes his lips into mine.

I can't remember what happens next-not chronologically. We're bumping into walls and shedding the day, as well as our clothes, and as we ease into the sheets the volcano bursts with hot molten lava, destroying anything that was ever left of us before.

I must have nodded off again right after because I wake to Conor in bed facing me. Behind him, my window shows streaks of pinks in the sky as day goes down to dusk. Conor's eyes are watching me carefully, his expression unreadable as he watches me watch him. I trace the bridge of his nose to distract him but he continues staring, something budding in the way he looks at me. It was scaring me and I tell him so.

Yet Conor doesn’t take his eyes off of me, his thumb brushing my cheek and my breath catches as I realise why I was so scared. His eyes hold no trace of its usual playful spark. Instead they're unguarded and clear as day with what he was thinking. Shit. This was it. This was the end. We'd both fallen. Made this something important.

"When are you leaving LA?" I ask, almost begging him to reply with a deadline to our romance for some sort of normalcy. The only way this worked was when he put a time stamp for us to stop waking up in each other's arms. Even if it was one month or one week we would have the most fun as the end date was our safety net.

But when he shrugs and continues to gaze at me, my heart feels like it would burst from my chest. And it practically does as all the hopes I ever ignored of Conor and I as something more than friends, all the fantasies I ever had of Conor wanting more with me, the thoughts I suppressed before they could even manifest-shoving them into a dark corner of my mind-roll forward and flash before me. This was Conor-the first person I think I ever fell in love with. And I can admit it to myself now, looking at him-at us, like this. This was Conor-how could I have ever thought we could be anything but in love in the end? So I remove Conor's hand from my face and hold it to my chest, willingly showing him how much I was feeling in the moment. "I feel it now, can you feel it too?" Conor takes my other hand with his free hand and places it against his own palpitations. My own races faster; was this our demise?

"I feel it too." Conor answers slowly.

"But this is exactly what we said we wouldn't do." I remind him. What he said we wouldn't do. What we weren't.

"What was that exactly?" Conor asks me and his mouth flicks up in a slow smile as the playfulness returns in the blink of an eye. He's weightless as he rolls over me and brings his lips down in a kiss so tender, I never realised he had it in him. When he moves away, he rests his forehead against mine, his lips a hair's breadth away from my own. The look he gives me is a challenge, a dare like we would give when we were younger. His brown eyes looking into mine are daring me just one simple thing:

Call me out.

#conor maynard #conor maynard imagine #conor maynard imagines #youtube imagines #fic #lyrics #buttercream imagines #buttercreams #sarah close #jack maynard #joe sugg #i know this jumps all over the place but i really wanted to write something like this #hope its easy to understand #i spent so long on this #ahhhh #thatcherjoe

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lovedmoviesb · 7 years

Link

"You know, I'm starting to think the whole bad boy thing is a ruse," Michonne focused on Rick's face with difficulty.

"What makes you say that?" his hand pushed into the small of her back, his other one still wrapped firmly around her palm.

"Well," Michonne steadied her breathing, "You've been opening doors, pulling out chairs, slow dancing…" Rick had insisted on picking her up from her dorm room, sweeping up in his pickup truck and waiting for her to come outside. The sight of him in that dark blue denim shirt had nearly floored her. The closer she got to him, the sharper the picture came into focus, from his still damp curls and five o' clock shadow, to the clean scent of his cologne. Michonne was glad that she'd worn flats tonight. Her legs were weak already.

She lost her train of thought again when Rick pulled her closer, swinging her in time with the music.

"Maybe I'm not trying to scare you off," that smirk of his had done things to her last night, and right now was no exception.

"I don't scare so easily," she teased, ignoring the way her heart seemed to be hammering its way out of her chest.

"Really?" he tilted his head, leaning in closer to her. "Cause last night, you couldn't even kiss me without—"

She flushed, and Rick laughed. "I'm sorry," Michonne mumbled. It was amazing how quickly her bodied had shifted to flushed and horny to completely and utterly sick. Alcohol was a hell of a thing.

"Hey, don't be sorry," Rick leaned forward swiftly, dropping a kiss on her lips. "See? You made it this time."

Her laughter escalated, even as the blush deepened beneath her dark skin. "Maybe I shouldn't drink again," she admitted.

"Nah," Rick shook his head, the curls bouncing. "Just maybe not two whole bottles of wine."

"That was your fault," she fired back, shifting her feet as the music changed.

"True," he nodded in agreement. "To be fair, I didn't know it was your first time drinking."

"It wasn't my first time," Michonne's embarrassment mounted. Rick smiled at her.

"First party then," he amended. "I hope I made it good for you."

"You did," Michonne leaned tentatively towards him, their chaste dance tonight reminding her of what it felt like to have him pressed full against her.

"Good," the pressure on her back increased until they were chest to chest. "It's definitely my favorite party so far."

"So far?" she wanted to kiss him again, wanted to make up for last night.

"Well," Rick seemed content to keep their faces just scant inches apart, his eyes boring into her. "My girl has got to be at my future parties. And if you're there, I'm betting they'll be good."

"Your girl?" Michonne's eyebrows jumped in surprise, even as her pulse raced.

"Well, I figured it's going to take a couple more dates, but yeah." Rick's forehead rested on hers, his lips just millimeters away.

"Cocky," she accused.

"Confident," he corrected.

Michonne did not answer. She was too busy kissing him. The taste of him was enough to make her dizzy again, but she attacked it with fervor anyway. Rick responded in kind, eagerly molding his mouth to hers, plunging his tongue between her lips. His hands tightened around her, dangerously close to the hem of her skirt again. She leaned into his touch, heat flooding her.

"Well hey there," the sound startled the two of them apart. Rick was the flushed one now, but Michonne was no less breathless. The couple turned towards the new arrivals.

Glenn was standing there, Maggie in hand, both looking amusedly at them.

"I see you guys got started without us," Glenn grinned.

"You're late," Michonne spoke up, surprised that she even had the ability to speak.

"Ten minutes," Glenn shrugged. "That's her fault." He nodded at Maggie.

"Couldn't get my curling iron to work," she explained, looking unapologetic. Michonne secretly wished that the iron never worked at all. She missed the feeling of Rick already.

He was unruffled, already leading her back to their table in the corner of the club. Rick helped her into their side of the booth, climbing in after her. He draped his arm casually over Michonne's shoulders, the gesture all at once familiar and foreign. Glenn's clever eyes didn't leave the couple across from him.

"So," Glenn began, "What's going on with this?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Rick fired right back, his eyes turning to his step-sister. "I slept on the couch last night. Maggie, where'd you end up?"

Maggie reddened, but tilted her chin defiantly. "With my boyfriend."

Rick tilted his head, amused. "I'm sure your boyfriend will treat you well." It was obviously a poorly veiled threat.

"I will," Glenn was undaunted. "What's going on with you and Michonne?"

"Glenn…" Michonne warned her friend but he wasn't backing down.

Rick smiled, turning his head to look at Michonne. "What's going on with us?" he asked her, looking curious.

"We're…" Michonne frantically scrambled to find a way to define how she felt about this man beside her. "We're dating," she settled on the safe title, directing her attention to the menu.

"We're dating," Rick echoed, grinning as a waitress brought water to the table.

Glenn nodded, seemingly satisfied. "I'm sure you'll treat Michonne well," he repeated Rick's words back to him.

Rick's smile widened. He let his arm drop from her shoulders to the seat between them, his fingers curling around hers. "I'm sure Michonne will let me know if I mess up," he said.

"You're doing great so far," she couldn't keep the smile off of her face. Even as food arrived and small talk deepened until both couples were comfortable, her mind was focused almost exclusively on the man beside her. He had an easy, affable nature that was magnetizing.

"Well," he asked her later, the faint traces of a grin playing across his face. "Guess I should get you back home." Glenn and Maggie had already departed, certainly rushing off for their next tryst.

"I don't want to go home," Michonne felt her lips shaping the words almost without her permission.

"No?" he looked surprised, his head tilting.

"No," she shook her head, her braids brushing down her back as she moved.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

Michonne stared at him, eyes wide, blood pumping, unsure if she would even be able to articulate what she wanted.

"I—" she began, flushing despite the coolness of the air around them.

"You sure?" Rick seemed to know what she was asking for.

She nodded, swallowing hard. "I am." Maybe she didn't know exactly what she was wanted, but she knew she needed it. Badly.

"All right then," that accent twanged over her ear, accompanied by the feeling of his hand gripping hers. She sat rigidly in the truck, damn near hyperventilating as they got closer and closer to his home. Michonne briefly considered changing her mind until she looked over at Rick at a stop light. He was looking back at her, his eyes burning with something she had never seen before but instantly recognized.

That look deepened as he led her to his bedroom, locking the door behind him.

"Michonne, you comfortable?" he asked her as she settled on the bed.

"Come here," she leaned backwards into his pillows, reaching for him. Rick toed off his boots quickly, joining her on the plush surface.

He settled his weight on top of her, covering her body with his, his lips meeting hers in a slow kiss. The feeling from last night ignited again, burning through her limbs, powering her body. His hands were everywhere, stroking and tugging at her until Michonne could not control her gasps. It became clear to her that alcohol had only been a minor factor in how she was feeling last night; Rick had been responsible for her intoxication.

"Rick," she whispered his name, sighing as his mouth trailed down her neck. Her hands clutched at his arms, working their way down until she could slide them beneath his shirt. He paused, shedding the offending article.

"You ok?" he misread her open-mouthed stare.

In answer, she lunged forward, wrapping her legs around his waist. The groan that escaped his throat only egged her on. She shimmied out of her dress, glad that she had taken the time to select pretty underwear before their date. Rick wasted no time in moving his mouth to her newly exposed skin, working her over until her head lulled back.

"Does that feel good?" his voice was a rough whisper against her skin as his hand slipped beneath the delicate lace.

"Yes," she gasped, her fingernails digging into Rick's shoulders.

He increased his pressure, his lips on hers, his fingers working their magic. It was everything; the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of his hands, the heat pressing hard into her stomach. Michonne let out a cry as her body contracted and released in one spectacular moment, going limp beneath Rick's body.

"Holy crap," she sighed, flushed and sweating.

Rick rolled over, lying beside her, looking all too proud of himself. "Feeling good?" he questioned.

She smiled at him, uncaring that he was teasing. "I just need a second. Then we can…" she gestured weakly.

Rick laughed, his deep voice rolling over her. "We don't have to do that tonight." He leaned over to kiss her, lingering to nuzzle her neck.

"What about you?" there was still a very pronounced bulge in his jeans.

"I'll be fine," he assured her. "We don't have to do it all tonight."

Michonne opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a burning kiss.

"You're my girl now, remember?" he asked, still smiling. "We've got plenty of time."

Michonne smiled at him, her heart filling up with affection. "But what if I want to touch you?" she whispered, rolling over, her fingers working their way beneath his waistband.

Rick let out a deep groan, his head falling forward as his breathing stuttered. Michonne tightened her hand around him, tugging gently.

"I'm not going to tell you no," Rick let out one last laugh before Michonne rendered him incapable of coherent thought.

Afterwards, the new couple laid in bed together in comfortable silence. Rick's arm was around her waist, his head buried in her hair.

"Spend the night again," he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep.

Michonne smiled, spinning in his arms until she could face him. "Ok," she agreed, kissing him on the forehead. She watched him as he fell asleep before drifting off herself, wondering whether a house party could be the thing that changed her life forever.

#twd #richonne #love.devil.movies.baby

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