Pairing: Bob x Yelena (Thunderbolts*)
Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Angst, Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Time Skips, First Kiss, Marking
Warnings: Brief Ideations of Self-Harm (in the context of soulmate marks)
Word Count: 7,777
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
In which some rare souls are bound together at birth to wear the pain of their soulmate on their skin; wherever an injury appears, mirrored marks show up on their soulmate in hues of red.
Yelena wonders if her soulmate worries about her like she does for them. She has always been very red, but then again, they must be, too.
Summary: Bucky's been away on a mission and when he returns, you're all he wants.
Author's Note: There are NO spoilers here. Just was so happy to see Bucky and enjoyed Thunderbolts and his beefiness! Those arms...my god. 🫠🔥Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: soft sweetness, kisses, mentions of minor injuries
The silence in the room is broken only by the soft pitter patter of rain on the large window that overlooks the gray skies blanketing the city. Your book lays limp in your hand as you stare out through the mottled glass, Alpine curled in your lap, warm against your stomach.
You reach for your phone but stop yourself with a sigh. How many minutes could have passed since the last time you checked? Instead, you lift your book and open to your book-marked page, the note he left you sliding down onto Alpine’s fur. You brush your fingers over his scrawled handwriting, smiling at his little doodles and sweet words. Settling back into the couch you start to read again.
“If I didn’t need to kiss you so badly I’d stand here and stare at you forever.”
Your head shoots up and you turn toward the sound of his deep and raspy voice. He leans against the doorframe casually, still in full gear and looking deadly but for the soft smile that pulls at his lips.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
The book is discarded in seconds and much to Alpine’s displeasure you hastily remove him from your lap, walking straight toward Bucky.
“Hi.”
“Hiya doll face,” he replies, wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you against him.
Your pulse skitters as you soak in every detail of him. Only one minor cut on his forehead and nothing else, but who knows what’s beneath his gear.
“You’re ok?”
“I am now.” His voice softens to the tone he only ever uses with you as he lowers his mouth.
He kisses you slowly and gently and you lean up to get closer, taking his stubbled cheeks between your palms. With more pressure from his lips, he slides his hand up your back, grabbing the nape of your neck and angling your face to claim more of your mouth. Your fingers slide higher and into his hair.
You feel his abs tense when you press yourself closer and you reluctantly pull back. He frowns, his eyes holding enough promise to make your entire body heat.
“Are you hurt?”
Your hands fall from his face, and you start to work open the buckles of his tack vest. He doesn’t stop you, keeping his hands settled firmly on your waist. You tug it open and rip his black shirt from his pants, lifting it until you can see his skin. There’s a large bruise just under his ribs and you dig your teeth into your bottom lip to stop your gasp, pressing your fingertips softly to the spot.
“Looks worse than it is,” he says softly.
You bend at the waist and kiss his stomach, feeling the muscles shift and flex. As you stand you grab the knife at this waist and pull it free, setting it behind him on the counter. Your hands slide behind his back, fingers curling around the hilt of a second knife that you remove and place down next to the first.
A slow, beautiful smile curves his mouth as he watches you. “Three more.”
Your fingers dance down his thighs, stopping at the hidden pocket on the left side. You carefully reach inside and pull out the third knife. Knowing there must be one in his boot you fall to your knees, your eyes lifting to meet his just in time to see them grow darker.
“I love you like this,” he murmurs.
You lift your shoulder demurely and pluck out the fourth knife in his right boot, sliding slowly back up his body.
“One more,” he whispers, running his knuckles along your cheek.
His gaze drops to your mouth, then skims over your features before his head dips and he brushes his lips to yours.
“No fair,” you whisper against them. “No distractions.”
He smiles but kisses you anyway. It’s soft and quick but still steals your breath.
You recover enough to slip your hands inside his tack vest, feeling around for the handle of the last knife. His own hands begin to wander, one cool and smooth, and the other grazing over your skin in a way that you can feel every callous he’s built from mastering the very blades you’re removing. You shiver in his arms but continue your search, a triumphant smile pulling your lips upward when you find the hidden spot near his ribs where his last knife is safely tucked away.
With practiced deftness you pull it free and set it down with the others then push his vest from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Your lips part to tell him exactly what you want to remove next, but his mouth is on yours before a word gets out.
A gasp catches in your throat at the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his clothing and then again when he deepens the kiss, like doing it is more vital than his next breath. Your hands slide over his biceps, fingernails digging into the bulging muscles as his lips slip down your throat, and he whispers, “fuck, I’ve missed the taste of you…the feel of you in my arms.”
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