person with a cat face

8

Emily Prentiss & Paget Brewster quotes, part 2 (one)

10

More Q cats!! The concept - both Bond giving Q a kitten and the ‘weaponized kitty’ are salutes to Ordinary Numbers - the greatest fic of all time. 

*important note - at least one person expressed concern about Keats’ eye – he and Melville are both rescue cats and Keats was missing it before Q got him (aka he didn’t maim an animal for science!)*

Pulse Part 12

Part 11

Genre: Fluff
Words: 2,280
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.

Originally posted by pabuthefirecat


Your eyes fluttered open to the sound of talking. It was muffled, coming from the living room, but you could clearly make out the stern and exasperated voice.

“Give her a few days to adjust- she’s exhausted and in a huge amount of pain. Then, I will give her your number.”

It was silent for a moment as you lifted your right hand to rub your tired eyes. The smell of coffee filled the hallway, giving you a certain level of inexplicable comfort and the knowledge of the time of day. Your heel paused in the crease as you heard Bucky’s voice lower to an unimaginable tone. “You don’t want to press me on this.”

The sound send a shiver down your spine, one that made you antsy enough to squirm a bit. You attempted to raise up into a slight sitting position so you could hear his conversation better, but the tiniest of movement sent a sharp pain shooting through your entire side and abdomen. Despite biting your lip to keep any noises from escaping, a cross between a whimper and yell snuck out and, within a moment, Bucky was rushing into the room, fingers carelessly hitting the end button on his phone and pocketing the device.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

You blinked back the tears in your eyes, hand hovering over the tender area near your ribs. “Will you help me sit up?”

His worried eyes didn’t let up as his hands reached out to slide gently under your lower back and the crease behind your knees. His touch was soft, and his voice seemed to mimic that same warmth. “You’ve got to be careful, Doll.”

Doll. You might have felt the butterflies in your stomach if you weren’t so nauseous from the pain medication. He had never called you anything but your name and “Fighter.”

“Who were you talking to?” You mumbled once he had rested you up against the pillows.

“No one important. How are you feeling? You’re due for more of your medicine.”

“Could I have it?” You swallowed down the feeling of neediness, knowing he was going to be doting on you for two whole weeks, and the both of you would have to get used to it.

“’Course,” he reached for the bottle on the bedside table to the right of you, pouring until a large pill fell into his hand. You took it from him, placing it into your mouth and reaching for the glass of water he was handing to you.

He set the glass back onto the table when you were finished, gently sitting on the empty mattress space next to you. “Natasha and Steve came to see you while you were sleeping. They brought food for you if you are hungry. You should probably eat something so your stomach doesn’t get upset from the painkiller.”

You shook your head instantly, groaning out at the mention of food. You had been nauseous during your whole stay in the hospital, the operation and painkillers making you want to barf into the nearest bucket at all times.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I could make you a smoothie? You could sip on it?”

When you only continued to look at him warily, he sighed. You could almost see the self-doubt run across his features as he questioned if he were the best person to take care of you. Both of you knew he was the best to keep you safe, no doubt, but for the rest…

“Do you have peanut butter?”

He looked confused as he searched your eyes, but nodded nonetheless.

“Could you make me a peanut butter banana smoothie? The protein in it would probably help too.”

The hidden reassurance in your words seemed to work magic as his eyes lit up again. He nodded hastily, standing and wiping his palms on his sweats. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll make it right now.”

“Wait!” You called as he went to leave for the kitchen, nodding toward the television in front of where you were laying in his bed. “Could you turn something on for me?”

And that was how you ended up sipping on a peanut putter banana smoothie, watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Bucky sat next to you, above the covers despite you being covered by the sheets from your waist down. You both leaned against the pillows, legs straightened in front of you, watching the television contently.

He chuckled at the parts you laughed, but the reaction was directed more toward you than the actual show. The questions he asked sounded even more ridiculous than what was happening on screen, but you enjoyed when he had one because it was always veiled in a comedic snark that left you giggling into your drink.

“I want to be like Lisa Vanderpump one day.”

“Me too,” you agreed, even though you knew he was kidding. “I have some heels you can borrow for a start.”

His eyebrows raised, tilting his head toward you as he spoke in a teasing voice, his eyes never leaving the television screen. “They’d have to be pink.”

“Of course.”

Silence erupted as the two of you watched the families interact on screen.

“Do you have any siblings?” Bucky asked, and you knew he had to be curious from the lack of people who had been concerned for your wellbeing both before and after the car wreck.

“Nope… Well, not any that I know of. I was put up for adoption.”

You hoped your nonchalant voice kept him from looking too deep into the topic, but as his head turned and his eyes focused on you, you knew you had gained his complete attention. “What was that like growing up? Having a foster family, I mean.”

The awkwardness was almost palpable, but you knew he was asking innocent questions. He wanted to learn about you. “I, uh, had many actually. Kinda went from home to home until I turned eighteen.” You shrugged.

His voice was barely louder than a whisper, his eyebrows furrowed. “Then what?”

“Then I moved around by myself and ended up here, met Natasha, and… here we are.”

More silence.

“I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged again. “Don’t be. What about you? What’s your family like?”

He seemed to blink back into reality at the question, looking surprised for a moment before shaking his head and looking down to his lap. “We actually don’t talk much.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the show drama in front of you rather than push him for information he didn’t want to give out.

“Anyway, let’s switch to easier questions.” He sighed as he leaned back farther, his hands going to rest behind his head. “What’s your favorite ice-cream flavor?”

“Vanilla.”

He side-eyed you. “No way vanilla is your favorite flavor.”

“It really is, I’m a simple girl.” You laughed, watching as he shook his head in mock disapproval.

“Shame. Rocky Road is by far the most superior.”

And then you really laughed, completely forgetting about the fact you were in a bed, and had been all day, due to your injuries. “Who even are you? We’re going to have to get two different cartons while I’m staying here then. I won’t eat that.”

“And who said I was getting us ice-cream?” He teased.

You didn’t answer because when you turned to shoot back a snarky response, you came within a couple of inches of his own face. Your eyes immediately landed on his lips, and you felt yourself subconsciously lick your own. His blue eyes were shining, seeming to light up in the dull room surrounding you. You could have stared into their glistening waters for hours. They drew you in like a riptide, and you were stuck, falling, leaning…

And crashing.

Quite literally. A giant crash from behind your back made you jump, breaking apart the minimal distance that had remained between you and Bucky. The sudden action made your whole body scream in pain, and you groaned out as you squeezed your eyes shut and leaned back into your pillows.

You felt the bed shift underneath you as Bucky got up, his soft voice turning extremely playful as you heard him cross the room. “There you are, Dex.”

Your eyes peeked open to see him scooping an orange Tabby into his arms, his free hand reaching out to pick the fallen lamp back up once the cat was situated. “Dex?”

“Yeah, like Dexter. Sam named him after the show.” He walked back to his previous spot on the bed, now with a purring cat.

“You have a cat… You do not seem like a cat person.”

“Have you seen this little guy?” He faced the cat toward you. “How could I not like him?”

The cat’s wide eyes met Bucky’s, and he let out a meow as if to tell Bucky it’s about time to put him down.

“You’d love having a pet. They’re the best.”

You choked out a laugh. “I can barely take care of myself, so I don’t think I’d be able to do that.”

He shrugged. “Animals help take care of you, in a way.”

The Tabby cat slid in between the leg space between your left and Bucky’s right thigh, spreading out and stretching until his long body was comfortable between both of you.

“See, he likes you too.”

His words reminded you of what he had said at the hospital. He had said that he knew you hated him, that he could live with that as long as you were alive.

“You know, you keep assuming how I’m feeling.”

“What do you mean?” He was distracted as he pet the content orange cat.

“I never said I liked the cat.”

He looked over at you, amusement in his eyes as his lips curled into a smile. “Don’t trie to lie, I see it all over your face. You like Dex.”

“What about when you said I hate you?”

Silence once again as he scrambled to respond in a way that didn’t come across as if he didn’t care. Because he definitely did. “You probably do after all that I’ve done, and I don’t blame you. I’d hate me too.”

“Oh, stop.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t hate you.”

He met your gaze, but quickly averted his eyes to look anywhere but at you. “You don’t? And, uh, why is that?”

You pondered over the question. Why is that? Was it because of the way he looked at you even as you laid there both looking and feeling miserable in pain? Was it because of his ocean blue eyes or his dark chocolate locks that you so badly wanted to run your fingers through? Was it because of his protective instinct that taught others how to do the same? Was it because, as he watched Desperate Housewives, he laughed both with you and at you, and allowed you to have fun in a time you never thought you would? Was it because he had brought your first smile to yourself in a long time to you? Or was it just because your hearts beat in sync?

“Honestly?” You asked as you pushed all of those thoughts down. “I don’t think it’s possible to hate your soulmate. Everything in you will just bring you back to them anyway.”

He nodded, his mesmerized eyes taking you in as if he were looking at a long lost lover. “Right,” he choked out, his voice a mix between a low, raspy tone and a whisper. “There will always be that pull.”

It wasn’t just the pull and you both knew it. Neither of you went to correct it, though, as Bucky moved a piece of hair behind your ear, knuckles trailing along your cheek and jaw as his hand returned to his side. The pull was so much more. It was an incomplete feeling that had you itching to find the only piece that could fit to fill the empty spot inside of you. It was a physical need, a feeling you often felt when you weren’t around Bucky. You weren’t sure if the spot was filled when you were around him, but it was better than when you were not, and you would take that any day over nothing.

You looked up at him from your laying position to find him already watching you. He was blinking more than he normally would, eyebrows furrowed as his mind raced behind his eyes. Your heart faltered.

“Bucky? You okay?”

He looked to the bed sheets, his eyes moving back and forth in thought hesitation. And then he was moving quickly, his lips coming toward yours. You sucked in a breath, wanting this moment to happen so bad, but knowing the circumstances surrounding it. And it was as if he felt the same thing, because in the same second you lips were about to touch, he moved his course of action. His eyes searched yours and then he leaned up slightly and placed the most loving kiss onto your forehead that you felt your eyes drift closed at the feeling.

Butterflies erupted into your stomach as his cologne further invaded your senses, leaving a wonderful smell behind as he pulled away. Your eyes stayed closed and when you finally built up enough courage to open them, you found him exactly where you had left him. His right hand was casually stroking Dexter’s back and his eyes were glued onto the next episode of Real Housewives.

You forced the butterflies to leave your stomach as you looked back to the television again in silence, but you couldn’t fight the smile that involuntarily began to form.


okay sorry no tag list bc apparently it doesn’t work hahaha

6

So I was tagged by @papi-chulo-bucky/@i-pop-glitter-pills (one of the most gorgeous people I know!!) for 6 selfies of 2017!! (yes…I am wearing a Grey’s Anatomy jumper in the 3rd pic. GA is one of the loves of my life!)

Anyone who wants to do this - consider yourself tagged here! But I will also tag @somethingsweet-almostkind @sarazzprime @howlingbarnes @imhereforbvcky @kaaatniss @lowkeybuckytrash @sanjariti @ursulaismymiddlename @pietro-speeddemon-maximoff @mar-gega @bionic-buckyb @abovethesmokestacks because i love you guys (and have probably missed people AGAIN because I’m terrible) and feel free to ignore this <3