Genre: Fluffiest it’s gotten thus far (which probs doesn’t say much) Words: 2,164 Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Injuries Summary: Soulmate AU in which one’s heartbeat becomes perfectly in sync with their soulmate’s once they meet.
One week. That was how long you had been held in the hospital before you had finally been able to go home- well, to Bucky’s home.
Thanks to the excessive amount of painkillers that had been pushed into your system, you had slept a lot, which had made the beginning of the week go much quicker than you had expected. It was a blessing, being able to clock out while the nurses had changed your dressings and checked your vitals.
Bucky had been in the same spot you had last seen him in when you had woken up on the fourth day since admission. In fact, he had been in the same spot everyday, even waiting in that chair as the nurses had taken you to an adjacent bathroom and given you a bath. It was weird to have had him stay there- not that you hadn’t liked his presence. You had just been waiting for his fiancée to barge in at any moment and question who the hell you were and why her future husband was tending to your every word and need.
You didn’t even think Bucky knew the answer to the last one.
He had acted like the two of you were different people. He had treated you how it would be expected to treat your soulmate, the love of your life. When you had shivered in your sleep, he had brought the blankets up around you instead of letting them rest by your waist. When you had showed the slightest sign of being in pain, he had immediately called to a nurse about the possibility of more painkillers. When you had gotten bored, Bucky had told you stories, or had propped his phone up for the two of you to watch a rented movie off of the little screen. When Wanda had come in to look at the progress in your injuries, he had held your hand the whole time, letting you squeeze it in moments of poking and prodding. He must have gone to shower and eat whenever you had drifted off, because it seemed as if he had been there every moment until you had been released.
After Wanda had helped you get dressed out of your hospital gown, Natasha having been kind enough to drop off some of your clothes, Bucky had helped you walk to a nearby wheelchair (hospital’s release policy) and stopped to go over your healing regimen once more with nurse Wanda. Then you had felt him behind you and the wheelchair start being pushed toward the parking lot.
Once you had gotten in the car and had watched as Bucky hopped into the driver’s side, you had realized that you were slightly nervous to be in a car again. The collision had been one of the most traumatizing things that had ever happened to you.
You had barely noticed when Bucky had reached over and buckled you up.
And then you had gotten on the road. Bucky had driven slow for you, maybe even below the speed limit, and you were sure he would never know how much that had actually meant to you. You had gotten to his house not long after that, parking on the street. Bucky had helped you out of the car, keeping his hand on your lower back as he supported you toward the sidewalk. You had gripped his shoulder with your right arm as you both had climbed the steps to his front door. And then you were inside.
You were in a place that was the closest thing you could call home at the moment, and the first step into the beautiful home made you grateful you were done with the one week in the same room smelling of antiseptic. One week, and now you were stuck with Bucky for one more.
He led you over to the closest sofa and helped you sit down gently, sitting back on his knees to take off your shoes. “Be careful with your side.”
You didn’t answer, instead using your energy to suppress rolling your eyes at his statement. You didn’t think you both could be any more careful.
“Do you want some water?” He spoke again, leaving you sitting on the leather as he walked into the kitchen.
“Sure.” Your voice was quiet, no doubt from how uncomfortable you were starting to become. This was his house; this was his fiancée’s house.
You could hear ice clink into a glass from the other room and then the faucet running. Then Bucky appeared, sitting down on the other side of the couch you were sitting on and handing you your glass.
“So, what do you want to do? I’ve got some movies we can watch or if you just want to relax, I have a lot of books- I could read to you if it would hurt your head with your concussion-”
“Bucky.” You cut him off. “I think I just want to shower and go to bed.”
One good thing about antibiotics and painkillers: you can blame your excessive sleeping on them.
“Oh,” his accepting voice overcompensated for the disappointment he tried (and failed) to hide. “Of course, you’re probably exhausted.”
You forced a smile to him, one that felt more like a grimace, and started to scoot toward the edge of the couch. Bucky was up on his feet in an instant, leaning down with a strong hand on your back and another holding your right hand to stabilize your balance.
He walked you to the bathroom, pausing only once the both of you have stepped inside to watch as you stepped out from his hold and turned to look at him expectantly.
He looked nervous- actually, he looked more than nervous. He looked terrified. You lifted your arms a little. “As much as I wish anyone else could help me at this moment, I don’t have much of an option, so come on.”
He swallowed hard, his movements hesitant as he reached out to help you out of the shirt you were in. He went for the buttons first, your wrist unable to bend to that angle in the bright cast it was being held tight in. His fingers were slow, and he was treating the shirt with as much delicacy as he was treating you with. The two of you were standing extremely close, and you had to force yourself to keep your eyes on his solid chest so you wouldn’t make eye contact in such a vulnerable moment.
Once the shirt was unbuttoned, he helped move it down your arms, carefully sliding it from around your cast, and tossed it to the floor without a second glance. No words were exchanged as he immediately looked at you, reaching for the band of your leggings. And the way he was looking at you- Oh, God, you wished you were dressed sexier. But you had just gotten out of the hospital and with limited options as to what wouldn’t irritate your injuries, you were out of luck.
You held onto his shoulder with your right hand as he slid the leggings down your legs and helped you step out of them. And then he was at his full height again, looking down into your eyes and searching. For what, you didn’t know, but you knew it was easy to get lost in his eyes, and it was exactly what you were doing. The blue of them pulled at the heart deep in your chest, acting as a string connecting the two of you together. You could feel the strain as your heart tried to get closer to him. You involuntarily moved toward him.
His fingers trailed along your sides, gently skimming the skin there before they rested with his thumbs against your ribs, lightly circling the harsh bruising that marked you. You held your breath.
His right hand rose and moved a piece of hair behind your ear. “You can’t get your cast wet.”
Your mouth felt dry as you scrambled to reply. “I know.”
Your right hand still rested on his shoulder. His right hand returned to it’s soothing place at your side. “Do you want me to help wash your hair? If not, you can kick me out right now.”
He was so beautiful, you didn’t think you had the strength while in his arms like this to kick him out. “You can help.”
His tired eyes skimmed your face once more, an action that made your knees weak, before he took a step back. He helped you into the tub in your sports bra and underwear, lowering you down slowly until you were able to sit comfortably. You jolted when the water turned on, cold before it turned warmer, and you caught Bucky chuckling at the reaction.
Your cast rested over the edge of the tub as Bucky filled a large cup with the hot water, slowly pouring it over your hair and making sure it all got wet. He followed the action with some shampoo, gently rubbing the soap into your hair without adding any pain to the already bruised area underneath.
“Does your head hurt at all?”
You shook your head, your eyes drooping at the relaxing feeling of someone else washing your hair.
“You promise? You have to be careful with your concussion.” You nod again, your eyes fluttering open as he rinsed your hair out. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”
“But I’m tired,” you whined.
“I know, I know.” He couldn’t fight his smile as he reached for the bar of soap. “Arms up and then we can get you to bed.”
You did as told, reaching up as he ran the soap over what your cast didn’t cover, your chest, and your abdomen, circling around any wounds as to not rub and irritate them, but letting the water mix with the soap as it ran over them to clean. Once you were all rinsed off, Bucky offered his hands to you, taking your right one in his, and supporting you as you stepped from the tub.
He wrapped a towel around you and used another to partially dry your hair. All the while making sure your cast stayed completely dry.
“I’ll go grab you some of your clothes to change into and your toothbrush and stuff. I’ll be right outside the door when you’re done.” He set the toothpaste out on the countertop, returning back only a minute later with your things, and then he was shutting the door.
It took longer than it should have to get completely ready for bed, and you blamed your cast for that. But once you were dressed, clean, and too tired to take another step, you headed out of the bathroom. Bucky was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and waiting for you. Once you emerged, he took you to a bedroom at the end of the hall.
It was big, and mostly neutral colored. The walls were a very light gray, paired with a white bedspread that covered a king sized bed. The floors were wooden, as was one of the walls on the other side of the room that had been converted into a bookshelf. There was a television on top of a dresser in front of the bed, but you looked almost completely past it, instead focusing on how soft the bedding actually looked.
“We have an extra room, but we haven’t actually gotten a bed for it yet. This house is newly bought…”
Him and Samantha.
You nodded, not wanting to dwell on that while you had the opportunity to sleep right in front of you. He led you to the bed, pulling back the blankets and helping you get inside, before covering you back up. He looked like he wanted to say something as he stood over you, playing with your hair while he thought, but all he ended up with was: “ll wake you up when it’s time for more painkillers. Night, Fighter.”
And then he was leaving, flicking the light off as he went. He left the door cracked open so he could hear if you needed anything, but the room was otherwise silent and dark, with the exception of the patter of raindrops on the window.
You couldn’t see much in the room now, but it wouldn’t matter anyway, because the only image your brain was processing was the conflict you had seen many times in Bucky’s eyes just since you had gotten “home.”
It was almost impossible to know his thought process, so instead of torturing yourself with it, you accepted the kindness you were going to get from him, and forced yourself not to get your hopes up.
It was hard not to, though, as you fell asleep on what you knew was his side of the bed, surrounded in the smell of him. He wasn’t wrong in what he had told you at the hospital; you felt safe there.
Stiles’ world is turned upside-down when he is bitten by an incubus. He doesn’t think life could get any worse, but he then meets his new neighbour, Derek. Derek is a prostitute. When the two worlds collide, things have to get a little worse before they start to get better.
When a Sentinel found a Guide that they were compatible with, and really really liked, they would go into a frenzy where they imprinted the Guide into their memory to serve as a kind of anchor, so the Guide was given the ability to pull the Sentinel out of a state where their senses overwhelmed them, or they became fixated on one of them.
So, by placing them in a bonding suite, where they were surrounded by sense neutral confines, beige walls, sentinel friendly furnishings, scent and noise neutralisers, dimmed bulbs, they could imprint in peace.
“Mr Stilinski.” Deaton’s usually impassive face betrays a hint of surprise today, maybe even disappointment. “You haven’t changed your mind.”
Stiles tips his chin up, smiling against his irritation. “Nope,” he confirms, so cheerily it bites. They had arranged this weeks ago, yet Deaton was apparently betting Stiles wouldn’t go through with it in the end. Fuck that. He doesn’t know what it’s like out there, not really. He can afford to hold himself aloof and uninvolved, knowing his druid power is enough to keep him safe in this little office. Stiles can’t. Scott’s pack has got to protect this whole town, and Stiles’ spark isn’t enough to protect all of them while they do it.
The thing is, magic isn’t like the fairy tales. It’s blood and risk and sacrifice. Nothing comes without a price, and anyone who tries to say different is baiting a hook to gut you on. Stiles knows that, has known it since he was a kid and his mother started training him for the inevitable day when he’d need to fight for his life.
That day had come four years ago when she died, and it hasn’t stopped yet.
Stiles is ready to get out of Beacon Hills and start his new life, free of the supernatural. A random discovery in an antique store in Denver proves you can never leave it all behind… and encourages him to find it again. What ensues is four and a half years of pining, self-discovery, personal growth, a whole hell of a lot of love, and a realization that nightmares can still become fairy tales (happily-ever-afters included).
Every morning between the hours of six and eight, Shawn gets himself ready and dressed to hit the gym, no excuses, no late sleep ins, nothing. The latest he leaves for the gym is eight.
He likes his strict routine, for what reason, you do not know.
You, for one, cannot keep to a strict routine when it comes to mornings and your time off. You much prefer to spend your early mornings cuddled in bed sleeping or lazing around. Shawn, however, loves getting himself to the gym and then lazing around and sleeping.
It wasn’t unusual for you to wake up to an unoccupied bed, the sun peeking through the windows as you shuffle around in the bed, attempting to find a comfortable position to rest and fall back asleep in. But, you’re startled when you hear the front door open and closing, your hand immediately reaching for your phone, the brightness causing you to squint as you read the time, ‘nine-fifteen’ a time that is far too early for Shawn to be getting back from the gym.
The moment he steps into the bedroom, he abandons his athletic bag to the floor, taking you by surprise as he collapses to the bed, resting his head on the pillow.
“Hard work out?” You softly challenge, moving to rest your hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles.
You’re not new to the occasional hard workouts where he pushes himself too far and he ends up just wanting to sleep the rest of the day. In fact, at least once a month he pushes himself excessively far and spends a whole day resting.
He responds with an inaudible grumble, nestling further into the comfort of the bed,
“In English please, Shawn,” you chuckle, continuing to rub your hand in small circular motions on his back, keeping him content.
“Fuckin’ kicked my ass… My legs are done for,” Shawn mumbles, opening one eye to look at you, sighing heavily the moment the wailing of your little girl sounds through the house. “She still not sleeping more than two hours?” He sighs, “I put her back to sleep before I left,” he pouts and you lean over and kiss his cheek, forcing yourself up to get off the warm bed.
“Nope, did you think you going to the gym would suddenly change that?” You chuckle, pulling one of his sweaters over your body as you look over at him, his body sprawled out on the bed,
“Kinda hoped so, she’s killing me with this,"
"Mhm, if you had of stayed home you would have been able to sleep and you wouldn’t be sore,” you poke fun at him for his strict schedule that involves going to the gym at the same time each morning.
You make your way down the warm hallway and enter the neutral coloured walls of your little girl’s room. You peer over her crib, leaning down and picking the three-month-old up, her little body instantly clutching to your body and nestling into you. “Hey there my little darling, did you hear Daddy and want to wake up? Hmm.” You hum, draping her white blanket over her back before you bounce her a few times to get her to completely stop whining. She settles into you and you carefully walk out of her room, wandering back down the hallway to the master bedroom.
You smile as Shawn is now on his back, his arm covering his eyes as he continues to rest. “Daddy wants some cuddles, I think he needs some,” you whisper to your little girl as she yawns, her little hand pressing to your shoulder.
You gingerly get on the bed and Shawn uncovers his eyes, focusing them on his pride and joy, “Good morning, did you decide you wanted to wake up, again?” Shawn coos, taking her from your hold, settling her to rest on his stomach, his hand resting on her back to keep her sitting up. She crinkles her nose before she stares down at him with her blue eyes, giving him a small gummy smile. “You’re so cute, wanna tell Daddy why you won’t sleep?” … “Is it because you want to sleep with us? I think we should let you and see, but Mummy over here says it is a bad idea.” Shawn mumbles to his little girl, getting no response but random baby noises and a few hands being thrown around.
“If she sleeps with us, we will never get her back in the crib, Shawn.” You remind Shawn of the reason why you are against bringing her to sleep in the bed with the two of you. She will end up sleeping on yours or Shawn’s chest and will get far to use to it and never want to sleep in her own crib.
You view as Shawn smiles at his little girl, his eyes illuminating with such love and awe, you have never seen him look at anything with as much love as he does with his little one. She is everything to him, his pride and joy, his love, his life.
At just three months old, she has him wrapped around her little finger, there is no doubt in your mind that she will be a Daddy’s girl.
From the day she was born and placed in his arms, there was no separating them for too long.
“Ah, bless you, uh and bless you again,” Shawn coos as the little one cutely sneezes, “she is so damn adorable, how did we create someone so cute, look at her.” Shawn smiles at his little girl, positioning himself to sit up a bit more, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek, “You are a cutie, yes, yes you are, you definitely take after your Mummy,” Shawn continues to talk in a charming voice, keeping your daughter occupied while you take the time to get dressed.
Since she has been born, you haven’t really had much time to yourself, usually getting dressed is accompanied by her watching or whining, giving you exactly two minutes to get yourself together.
Her little baby mumbles turn to a few whines and you flick your eyes over to Shawn, “Shh, my darling..” He whispers, resting her on his chest and rubbing her back his soft voice beginning to hum softly.
He has this nonchalant power over her; Shawn can calm her down with just the sound of his soft hums and the tender touch of his hand. You, on the other hand, you don’t have the power of being able to hum in order for her to calm back down.
You smile at the two of them, Shawn calming her down and getting her to fall asleep on him rather promptly.
“Hon, what am I going to do when I go on tour? I don’t want to leave her.” Shawn whispers, keeping his down on his little girl, his hand rubbing her little back as her breaths rise and fall softly.
“I don’t know, we will figure it out… For now, just enjoy time with her,"
"She looks so much like you and that isn’t fair.” Shawn sighs, giving you his pouty flushed lips, “I have two beautiful women in my life, I got so lucky… You are both so gorgeous, she is flawless, truly. You did an amazing job.” He smiles over at you with glistening coffee-colored eyes,
“I couldn’t have done it without you. You helped create her,"
"Yeah, but you did the hard work, you carried her for nine months, I don’t know if I told you, but you are so damn amazing, I am so thankful that you helped give me such a perfect little girl,"
"Well, you helped a lot,” you assure him, “We created a perfect little girl, one that has your eyes and your long ass legs, God how those long legs were painful,” you chuckle, gesturing towards her sleeping body, “Have you noticed how she sleeps like you?” You question, curious as to whether Shawn has noticed how she prefers to sleep the exact same way he does, on his tummy with his legs spread apart.
Shawn chuckles, “I did notice that, have you noticed how she has one lazy eye? She got that one from me.” …
“Yeah, it is so cute… She is very picky, like you. Which reminds me, she won’t eat that baby food you got the other day,” you familiarise Shawn,
“Ha, funny thing.. I tried to feed it to her yesterday and she spat it out, so I tasted it…. It was gross."
"Shawn,” you sigh, “Stop giving our child bad habits."
"I can’t help it, she has picky tastes.” Shawn shrugs, defending himself as he carefully lifts himself off the bed, “I’m going to put her down, want me to make breakfast?” Shawn proposes with a smirk, “I know you love my waffles, with some strawberries.” Shawn beams over at you, stepping outside the bedroom,
“Mhmm, sounds great.” You smile over at him before he disappears from your view.
Yuuri let out a small sigh as he leant over
the picnic table the pair were sitting at to look at the house Victor was
pointing out in one of their local real estate magazines.
“No,” he stated simply as soon as he eyes
landed on the huge five bedrooms, two store house Victor was pointing at.
“What? Why?” Victor asked, pouting at him.
“Are you going to clean it?” he asked,
raising an eyebrow. Victor went silent for a moment, pouting fading away as he
glanced between the magazine and him for a moment.
“I could hire a maid?” Victor suggested meekly,
only to sigh when he gave the older man a pointed look.
They both glanced to the side, turning
their full attention to Yuri, who was grinning ear to ear with a ball held
above his head. When the boy realised he had both adult’s attention, he threw
the ball as hard as he could, causing Makkachin to chase after it.
He chuckled softly and clapped his hands,
earning a bright giggle from the boy as he hurried after the poodle to collect
the ball for yet another round of fetch.
“So, no five bedrooms?” Victor asked,
flipped through a couple of magazine pages as he spoke.
“Three seems pretty reasonable,” he
“Three?” Victor questioned.
“Well, a spare room is always nice to have
when you have guests around,” he shrugged.
“Or another child,” Victor added, causing
him to pause.
“Huh?” he said softly, earning a sheepish
smile from the Russian skater.
“Nothing, dear,” Victor said while quickly
leaning across the table to kiss him gently on the lips. He sat there a moment,
staring at his boyfriend before turning his gaze back down to the magazine in
front of him.
“Should we look for apartments or houses?”
“I’d like a house,” Victor stated simply, “A
nice backyard for Makka would be nice. But I’m not going to turn a perfect
apartment down if we find one first.”
“A backyard would be nice,” he agreed, “I want
a large bathtub.”
“Oh? Getting demanding, are we?” Victor
asked with a smirk, causing him to blush softly.
“I miss bathing in my family’s hot spring,”
“I was just teasingly,” Victor told him
while grabbing a hold of one of his hands and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“So, three bedrooms, large on suite bathtub
and a yard, if possible,” Victor listed.
“Neutral colours,” he added.
“What?” Victor questioned confused.
“Neutral colours on the walls and stuff. I
do not want a house that has bright blue walls, no matter how fashionable it
is,” he explained with a shake of his head.
They stared at each other for a moment
before Victor gentle squeezed his hand.
“Neutral colours, but we are using my bed
in the master,” Victor compromised.
He had only stayed in Victor’s bed once,
when Minako had offered to babysit for a night for them. They didn’t sleep much
that night, but the big four post bed had been very nice to look at.
“Okay,” he said with a nod of his head,
earning a bright smile in response.
“But we have to keep your blankets,” Victor
said while going back to his magazine. He chuckled softly and nodded his head
again, Victor had fallen in love with the giant quilt his mother had made for
him – not that he could blame his boyfriend, it was ridiculously comfy.
“Papa, papa!” he glanced to his side as
Yuri ran up to him, Makkachin a step behind the boy, “Thirsty.”
He smiled as he pulled a drinking bottle
out of the bag beside his feet and handed it over to the boy who mumbled a soft
‘thank you’ while taking the drink.
“Having fun, kiddo?” Vicchan asked while
smiling towards the boy. Yuri nodded his head, too busy drinking to verbal
answer the question. He chuckled softly and ruffled the boy’s hair before
scooping up the ball that Makkachin dropped at his feet and threw it for the
“Papa, done.” He turned back to Yuri,
accepting the drink bottle back before Yuri hurried off after Makkachin again.
“For someone who claims that cats are
better than dogs, he seems to be having a ball playing fetch with Makka,”
Victor chuckled beside him. He glanced towards his boyfriend with a smile and
nodded his head.
“So, I’ve been thinking about getting Yuri
a cat for his birthday,” Victor said softly. He turned to Victor in surprise.
Yuri had been asking for a cat for as long
as he been talking, but with all their careful budgeting, they never quite had enough
to be able to look after anything else.
He opened his mouth, only to be cut off by
Victor before he could say anything.
“I said cat, not kitten, because we just
don’t have time for a kitten. So, I was thinking we could go to an animal
shelter and Yuri can pick out whatever cat he wants. That way, it is toilet
trained and we can make sure it is fine with dogs and has all it shots,” Victor
rambled. He stared at Victor in surprise, not having expected the skater to have
done all this research. But it shouldn’t surprise him, Victor wanted nothing
else but to make Yuri happy and he would do anything to accomplish that.
“Okay,” he said with a nod of his head, “But
my couch is going in the lounge room.”
Victor blinked at him a few times before
“But Yuuri, that couch is ugliest shade of
blue ever!” Victor wailed in protest.
“Our viewpoint camera lingers in here for a while, observing the restroom. Mari is no longer here. Neither is anyone else. Music continues to play from the ceiling speaker. A Hall and Oates song now: I Can’t Go for That. A closer look reveals that Mari’s image is still reflected in the mirror over the sink. The Mari in the mirror is looking from her side into this side. Her somber gaze seemes to be expecting some kind of occurrence. But there is no one on this side. Only her image is left in the Skylark’s restroom mirror. The room begins to darken. In the deepening darkness, I Can’t Go for That continues to play.” - After Dark (pg 81), Haruki Murakami
Here’s the first print that I’ll be selling this Saturday! This part of the book always stuck with me even after I read it the first time.