Soulmates (Sherlock x Reader)
Summary: An AU where your soulmate's name is written on your wrist. Due to a misunderstanding, it took you and Sherlock longer than necessary to realise your bond.
Warnings: Just Sherlock being an asshole... and an idiot, fluffy ending tho. some cuss words
Word Count: 3,304 (longest fic so far)
please, if you have any requests, suggestions or criticism do send me, I'd love to hear from you.
"Good morning, Mrs Hudson!" you greeted your sweet landlady as you made your way up to your apartment, breakfast in hand.
"Good morning, Y/N!" She greeted back, "Day off today?" she asked. It was unusual for you to be home on a Tuesday, you'd usually be at work right now, typing away emails and filing papers.
"Actually, it's a week off, Mrs Hudson. I took a little break from work yesterday, so you'll be seeing me more often for the next couple of days," you told her, your tone light.
"That's great, my dear. Maybe you'd have my afternoon tea with me, or even help keep Sherlock in check. " She replied with a smile on her face.
Your smile dropped, however.
You and Sherlock weren't exactly, err...civil.
You have no idea why. You were nothing but nice to him, helping him whenever you could and always greeting him with a smile whenever you met on the stairs as you made your way to or from 221C, yet you were always met with a dismissive wave, or no address at all, as if you weren't even worth occupying a minuscule fraction of his headspace, even if it was just for a moment.
You were wrong, of course, for you were all Sherlock could think about-- wanted to think about. You didn't know this, and Sherlock wanted to keep it that way, and that's because he's an idiot.
"Sure, Mrs Hudson." you nodded at her, an edge to your tone, then made your way upwards to 221C.
You don't know if she noticed your change in demeanour, but if she did, she didn't say anything.
After stepping into your apartment, you went to freshen up before sitting on the couch and opening up your laptop to watch something as you ate the breakfast you bought earlier.
Halfway through your meal, there was rapid knocking on your door, startling you slightly.
You went to the door and opened it, wondering who the hell is trying to punch a hole into your door, only to see John standing there, looking very irritated.
"Hey, John. What's up?" you asked him wondering why the hell he was trying to murder your door earlier.
"Hey Y/N, I'm fine, it's just that there's an emergency with Mary at the hospital and I need someone to help out Sherlock with his experiment so he doesn't tear the apartment apart, yeah?" John told you, his tone rushed.
"Yes, of course, John, no problem," you replied with a tight smile.
Despite Sherlock's aversion towards you, you and John managed to form a strong friendship. That was why you spent so much time in 221B, that and to also piss Sherlock off just a little... as well as maybe spend some time with him.
You might try to deny it, but Sherlock's attitude towards you hurt. You might've.... maybe might've formed quite the attraction towards him.
You couldn't help it, he was just so witty and beautiful and shy in all the right ways...he was perfect, despite what many others might think.
You didn't understand why you felt that way, it's not like he was your soulmate or anything.
or was he?
He wasn't, or so you thought. If he was, he would've said something by now, also you had 'William' on your wrist, not 'Sherlock'
You said goodbye to John as your parted at the door to 221B, then made your way inside to see Sherlock sprawled in his armchair, wearing his expensive-looking suit.
One thing you knew about Sherlock is that he'd always be ready to hit the streets for a case at any time...most times, you know, when he wasn't lounging in nothing but a bedsheet.
The moment he noticed you at the door, he straightened in his chair and adjusted his shirt slightly in a, what you guessed, self-conscious motion.
"Yes, finally, you're here. What took you so long?" he asked accusingly as if you've abandoned him with the promise of a swift return.
"I was just coming down the sta--" you started before you were rudely interrupted.
"Whatever, you're here now." Sherlock spoke over you, "I need you to pass by the library and fetch me these books...please," he added the last part as if it was an afterthought.
Sherlock reached into his pocket and handed you a small piece of paper with neat handwriting.
You took it from him, looked at it, then looked back at him.
"And you couldn't do this yourself because...?" you questioned, annoyed with this new, unwanted task.
Damn you, John.
"Because I have you to do it from me, now shoo, come one, go." he replied to you as he made shooing motions towards you as if you were some stray cat. You frowned at him in annoyance, but he didn't seem to notice that as he moved towards the microscope on his kitchen table.
You knew it was no use arguing with him, so you just sighed and moved towards the door on a mission to go to the library and return as fast as possible.
At least now you didn't have to spend your time cooped up with Sherlock.
You underestimated how major of an asshole Sherlock could be.
He knew how bulky and heavy these books are, yet he still sent you to retrieve them alone without even a little warning.
You held the Seven gigantic books in one arm as you moved to ring the doorbell with the other. The books towered over you as you held them, slightly obscuring your vision.
Sherlock took his sweet fucking time answering the door.
After a couple of seconds, which felt like aeons, Sherlock opened the door with a smug grin on his face.
You storm past him, moving to put the books on the floor by the door. Even as the book sat on the floor, they still reached up until your waist, looking at them like this makes you wonder how the hell you carried them for the three-block walk.
You look at Sherlock to find him already looking at you, still smugly smiling as he closes the door.
"God, Sherlock, couldn't have sent someone else to get them? or warned me so I'd...I don't know, bring a wheelbarrow with me?"
"You see the books I usually use Y/N; these would be no different," he informed you as if it were common knowledge.
"Yeah, still, a warning would've been nice. God, it's like my shoulders are gonna fall off," you wince slightly as you roll your shoulder, causing a dull pain to go through you.
For a moment, you swear you saw a flash of concern in Sherlock's eyes, but it quickly was replaced by Sherlock's nonchalant gaze that you thought you'd imagined the concern.
"Can't even walk for a few minutes without complaining like the elderly," he murmured as he looked through the books you'd brought, opening each one, then tossing it aside before reaching his desired book and leaping off to return to the kitchen table.
You scoffed at him causing him to turn to stare at you as he plopped the book on the table, making it rattle and causing you to flinch slightly.
"Whatever is the matter, Y/N?" he asked.
"Nothing, just wondering if I can help you with anything else?" you asked, your tone impatient. You just wanted to go back to your apartment and enjoy your break.
"Not with that attitude, you can't," he answered.
"Alright then," you sighed, agitated, "I'll leave now,"
"NO! I mean, wait...I actually do need help with something." Sherlock interrupted.
"Well, go ahead, what is it?" you ask, your tone even more agitated than it was before.
What the hell is up with him and not leaving you alone?
"Um, I need tea to focus, can't focus without it. I take earl grey, two sugars," he commanded.
You stared blankly at him. He was very much capable of making his own goddamn tea. He was just being an asshole now.
You storm past him into the kitchen and begin making his tea.
Once it's done, you walk over to where he's sat now, which is in his armchair, and hand him his tea.
He takes it from you, blows on it lightly, then takes a sip and immediately spits it out.
"UGH! what is this? you call this tea?" he exclaimed whilst looking at you incredulously.
"YES? CAN'T YOU EVEN DO THAT RIGHT?" he screamed.
What he said at that moment wasn't the worst he's ever thrown at you, but his angry, loud tone and the fact that you felt like collapsing after that involuntary exercise you did earlier made your eyes sting with tears.
You tried to stop the tears from flowing but they seemed to have a mind of their own as started rolling down your face at a fast pace.
A flash of regret shined in Sherlock's eyes, but you paid it no mind. He was probably just annoyed that he now has to deal with an emotionally distressed you.
"Why do you have to be such an asshole?" you ask.
He opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him,
"No, shut up! I don't understand why you always treat me like this. In the beginning, I thought that you were just like that with everybody, but then I saw how you were with John and Mrs Hudson and even fucking Lestrade, turns out you're just an asshole to me," you exclaim loudly.
Once you started talking it's like you couldn't stop as words just kept tumbling out of your mouth.
"And I don't know why I get so upset every time. It's like your words tug directly at my heartstrings. I usually ignore asshole and just move on...but I can't with you and I don't know why. It's not like your my soulmate or anything but I still can't help but feel...feel all this shit and emotion towards you and I don't fucking understand why!" you scream at him, your tone confused and hurt.
Sherlock stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His face looked even more confused than yours did.
At that moment Mrs Hudson entered the flat, curious as to what was causing all the commotion.
Once she saw your tears and defeated form she looked at Sherlock and said:
"Willliam Sherlock Scott Holmes! Why are you making the poor girl cry?"
You look at Sherlock in Shock, then wordlessly move towards him and take his wrist in your hand as slowly pull down his sleeve.
The name 'Y/N' was etched into his skin, despite expecting the revelation before pulling his sleeve down, you still find yourself gasping in shock.
"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask quietly as you lock eyes with him.
"I... I thought you knew?" he stated just as quietly, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.
Before you could question him further, he stood up, talking your hand in his and guided you towards the desk by the window.
"You can leave now Mrs Hudson; it was all a misunderstanding. We need to speak about it in private now," he told Mrs Hudson as he offered her a small grin.
She nodded and hesitantly made her way out the door and down the stairs, shutting the door behind her.
You sat down on a chair at the desk, Sherlock moving to sit opposite you.
"In all honesty, I thought you knew, I just thought you pretended otherwise because of...what I am," he started.
"Sherlock, what you are is completely okay, it's completely normal." you pause, recollecting your thoughts. "Why the hell did you assume I knew? Couldn't you notice and deduce otherwise?" you question.
"I guess I should've but I seem to be unable to deduce anything when it came to you. I don't understand why. I assume it might be because of our...um, bond." he states.
"Well, when did you figure it out?" you ask as you gaze at him curiously.
A sheepish smile crosses his face as a shadow of regret ghosts his eyes.
"Well, you see..."
It was a Saturday Afternoon.
You'd came in to drink some tea with John after he met you on the stairs and invited you into 221B.
John was sat on a desk chair he pulled out as you sat on the couch opposite him, chatting about random topics from favourite tea to apartment decor to John's new haircut to impress Mary.
Suddenly the door slammed open and in walked Sherlock, dripping wet from head to toe due to the rainstorm he got caught in on his way back from a case nearby.
He slammed the door behind him and made his way towards his room, nodding at John warmly in hello and giving you a swift, curt nod.
You didn't mind it so much, after all, you didn't really know Sherlock that well, and neither did he know you.
You continued chatting with John for a few minutes before Sherlock returned and made his way to the kitchen, now dressed in casual loungewear.
Moments later you heard him yell for John from the Kitchen.
John excused himself as he moved to the kitchen to see what Sherlock wanted.
You sat on the sofa, oblivious to what was taking place in the kitchen
"John, where'd you move my tea?" Sherlock asked as he moved around the kitchen looking through the cabinets for his beloved tea.
"Um, we ran out actually and I forgot to buy some more when I went to the shops. Sorry, Sherlock," John answered apologetically.
Sherlock huffed, then turned around to face John, a look of mild annoyance on his face.
"Alright then, do we have any left from that berry tea Mrs Hudson bought?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes, it's in the top cabinet on the left, the one with the crackers and biscuits," John replied.
As Sherlock reached upwards towards the cabinet, his sleeve drooped slightly.
The writing on his wrist caught John's eyes and he found himself automatically moving forward on a mission to identify the writing on Sherlock's wrist.
Sherlock turned around, slightly startled at finding John stood closer than he was moments ago, his eyes glued to his wrist.
"John...what's wro--" Sherlock started before he cut himself off as he notices what John was looking at exactly.
"She's...Y/N's your soulmate?" John whispered in surprise.
Sherlock gulped before answering, "I don't think so. If I was, she would've said something by now, or I would've noticed at east,"
"Are you sure?" John questioned.
Sherlock nodded, " She's not the only Y/N in the world, is she?"
"Did you check, at least? See if it's not your name on her wrist?" John wondered of Sherlock.
"Then you should, just to be sure."
Sherlock nodded then moved past John to the living room, pretending to look for a misplaced book.
"Wait, you're going now?" John whispered towards Sherlock, but Sherlock was already out the kitchen door.
He turned to you, pretending to have reached some sort of epiphany as he pointed at the shelf behind you.
"Ah...there it is, can you hand me that brown book on the top shelf, Y/N? John seems to have moved it again," Sherlock muttered as he moved closer to you.
"Um, yes, of course," you replied as you stood and reached upwards for the book.
Your sleeve dropped slightly just as Sherlock's had moments ago.
And sure enough 'William' was engraved into your smooth skin.
You and Sherlock were soulmates.
"Why didn't you tell me the moment you realized, Sherlock?" you questioned him once more as you shuffle closer to him once he was done telling you the story, reaching out to take his hands in yours.
"I told you, I...I thought you might've already realized or at least realized later on, but you never came to me about it, and as far as know I'm the only William you know of," he replied sheepishly as he looked downwards, avoiding eye contact.
His thumb had automatically started rubbing small circles on the back of your hand. It's like he didn't even notice he was doing it; it was just a comforting action he found himself instinctively doing.
He sighed, then continued, "I just thought that after you got to know me you decided that you didn't want to be with someone as dysfunctional as I am."
"Sherlock, nothing is wrong with you. Your habits are not that far off from some people's, I don't know who made you believe otherwise. They were probably just jealous of your genius," you told him as you moved to slowly caress his jaw.
His hand moved upwards to grip yours, giving it a slight squeeze.
"I'm so sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have just stupidly assumed like this. I'm so, so sorry," he looked ashamed as he spoke, his eyes darting between yours and the floor.
"You were an asshole Sherlock, but it's okay. I understood why you did that. Just, please, kindly never do that again," you told him, " I thought you hated me, and that notion just made me so damned upset and I didn't understand why," your eyes stung with tears once more, prompting Sherlock to squeeze you hand then moving his other hand to run through your hair comfortingly.
Damn it, why were you so emotional?
Must be all the overwhelming shit you've experienced the past 5 minutes.
You leaned towards him, your eyes closing in relaxation slightly.
"I understand you might've felt similar to how I felt, if not more. It's okay sherlock, I understand," you repeated as you noticed the apologetic look in his eye didn't lessen.
Then slowly, you leaned forwards, not diving quickly in order to give him the chance to pull away.
When he didn't, you continued your motions, tilting your head slightly as you moved forward, your eyes falling shut.
Sherlock's eyes slid shut a moment later, and in that split moment his eyes were open, as he gazed at you adoringly, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
Then your lips met.
A burst of euphoria exploded between you, filling both your chests with pure ecstasy and love.
You took lead, as Sherlock wasn't as experienced, and slowly kissed his soft, warm lips.
You pressed soft, puckered lips to his own in continuous motions, just testing the water with him.
When he seemed to appreciate your little kisses, you decided to take it a step forward, and opened your mouth slightly, taking Sherlock's lower your lip slightly in between your own, interlocking your lips, then kissed him softly.
You suck at his lower lip gently as you tilt your head, moving to sit closer to him. A soft moan escapes Sherlock's throat as he moves his hands so that one is at your waist, pulling your body close, and the other caressing your jaw.
One of your hands finds solace in his hair, tugging at it tenderly causing more moans to escape him. Your other hand was wrapped around his neck, keeping him in place as you make out with him.
A few minutes later, you break apart completely, not like those little breaks in between for air, but rather Sherlock pulling back entirely, moving to look at you, his eyes warm.
"What's wrong? Everything okay?" you ask worried you might've pushed him too far.
"Everything is perfect. You're perfect," he says.
Sherlock is looking at you in complete adoration, his gaze warm and loving.
Then, he slowly moves close again, kissing your lips softly, repeating some of your previous ministrations on you, making you sigh and moan into him.
Now, as you laid in his arms, you've never felt more at peace.
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Ok ok ok but I’m picturing tfatws Bucky doing his laundry and he hears someone coming so he tries to act natural and as soon as you enter the room your basket breaks (idk humor me) and you’re swearing and picking your things up and then you notice him and grow nervous and he thinks it’s because you’re scared but you quickly introduce yourself and tell him that you’re a huge fan and that he’s your favorite superhero and if he ever needed anything he could come and ask you and Bucky blushes and thanks you and just as he’s about to leave he turns around and asks what you’re doing after laundry and you say nothing and he asks you out for ice cream and ahhhhhhhhhhh heart eyes 😍😍😍
yes!! i feel like i wrote just exactly the same thing you sent me, what's wrong with me? originally i wanted to do like a what happened next... god... somebody kill me.
TFatWS Bucky x Reader, laundry and first meeting fluff
Your rickety laundry basket needed to go to the plastic graveyard quite some time ago, but everything that will eventually break and ruin your day always gets put off initially.
Why did you load it with heavy duvets and towels? This was a recipe for disaster from the very beginning. You could feel it cracking in your arms on the way to the basement and you started softly muttering to yourself in frustration.
"Goddammit why did i not just buy a fucking new one, jeebus h crickey fucking thing i'm gonna spill all my stuff all over the fucking..."
He stood at the washing machine, stuffing it full of his clothes, when his sensitive ears picked up your cursing. He turned to the door, an amused little smile on his lips, just as you crashed through the door, yelping at the sight of him.
"Oh my!" your laundry basket finally succumbed to its wounds and from a combination of your anxious grip and being dropped on the floor it finally broke into pieces, "Sergeant Barnes!"
Bucky could feel himself blushing - you were so cute and he wanted to meet you for so long, and here you were calling him Sergeant...
"Hi," He made himself say and tried to rearrange his face into a more friendly expression, "Let me give you a hand."
He started picking up your things and after a second of stunned silence you began to frantically grab the pieces of your broken basket.
"I'm so sorry, this fu... this basket, it's so old and I didn't expect anyone to be here - I didn't mean to intrude..."
Bucky felt his heart jump a bit at how you were babbling, he immediately wanted to take your hand and tell you everything is fine.
"Oh, no! I didn't mean to startle you either. I'm Bucky," he extended his hand towards you, "But I guess you know that?"
He smiled his charming smile at you and you felt your knees melt. The dimples under his stubble were the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.
"Yeah... I'm... kind of a huge fan of yours, actually. I even took a martial arts class based on your fighting style. God, what am I saying..." You squeezed your eyes shut. Did you really just say that to James Barnes, the man on whom you were celebrity-crushing for years and who almost made you go nuts with self-restraint by moving into your building? You were really wishing, desperately, for the floor to open up and swallow you.
"That's really cool! I helped design the program a few years ago, so I know it's good," He chuckled. He could feel anxiety rolling onto him - this girl was so lovely, and here she finally was, he was finally talking to her after months of almost walking up to her at the mailboxes and saying hi.
"Oh! That's great! I'm, uh.... I gotta go! I'm so sorry to bother you, nice meeting you!"
You darted out of the room, pieces of plastic and towels in a misshapen hazardous heap in your arms.
It took half a second for Bucky to make a panic-fuelled decision.
"Wait! What's your name?"
You stopped dead in your tracks and turned, very slowly, to face him.
"I'm..." you gulped and told him, feeling a bead of sweat running down your spine.
"I like it," He smiled, "Do you, um... wanna go for some ice-cream? It's so hot today."
You didn't say anything - just stared. Did The Winter Soldier just ask you out for ice-cream?
"And, we can, uh... buy you a new laundry basket!" He gestured to your arms.
You grinned at him, relaxing a little.
"What kind of ice-cream do you like?" You asked him.
"Strawberry. And you?"
"Peppermint with chocolate chips."
"I've never tried that - Sam tells me it tastes like toothpaste."
"Well, tell Sam he's a dumbass - I know a place, it'd delicious there."
He led you out of the basement and you pushed down your nerves, that were trying to make you do a happy little dance and screech. Maybe the day wasn't ruined, after all.
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But now I'm just thinking of ice cream date with bucky and how cute if he tried to get ice cream off of your lips and he's so nervous he forgets he used his metal fingers and he's flustered and apologizes and just...
"it's ok...I don't mind."
And you take his hand and kids his knuckles and ahhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm sorry I'm just in my feels and this freeway traffic is killing me.
The ice-cream parlous was almost empty - everyone who came in to grab one chose to sit on the patio or leave altogether. You were glad of it - Bucky seemed to be a bit jumpy with too many people around.
"I'm glad it's so empty and cool in here," You said, licking the tiny plastic spoon. You chose a yellow one, Bucky had a purple one.
"Me too," He smiled, "I don't really like big crowds, it' much nicer like this."
He was looking at you intensely, his gorgeous blue eyes framed by long eyelashes. What an angel. You couldn't believe, looking at him so close, that he was capable of such badassery.
You talked about everything on the way to the cafe - his favourite things about the city, your favourite places - you immediately made arrangements to go see them all together - music and book tastes. He liked the Hobbit and you made a little mental cartwheel.
"How's your ice-cream?" You asked.
"Delicious," he nodded, prodding at his first ever serving of peppermint ice-cream, "Yours?"
You scrunched your nose up and he laughed.
"Well, it always backfires when I decide to try a new flavour. I don't like bananas, but like banana flavoured things - but this ice-cream... it tastes like old gum."
"Can I try?" He asked.
"Yeah, sure," You leaned your bowl towards him and he was about to scoop, but his spoon hung in midair, his smiling eyes fixed on you.
"What?" You asked, smiling automatically.
"Nothing," He shook his head, "Do you wanna go for a walk?"
You grabbed your portions and went outside, feeling the sticky heat of the summer day with an extra punch after the AC in the cafe.
"There's a park with a pond over there, let's go look at the ducks." You pointed and Bucky nodded, following you.
You chatted as you walked, an easy rapport established so quickly that you felt elated and had to give yourself a little inward "don't-get-too-excited" pep-talk.
You already knew all the books you'd give him to read, all the museums and shows you'd take him to and every meal you'd cook for him. You wanted to impress him, take care of him. The fact that he lived just a floor above you gave you goosebumps.
The part was full of lazy afternoon walkers, ducks swimming in little ircles on the pond, nibbling at one another and dunking adorably with their tails in the air.
"I love them," you said," looking out into the pond. Your ice-cream was almost gone, the melted leftovers at bottom not too appetising, but you didn't want to throw the bowl out yet - it was a convenient occupation for your hands.
You sucked on the spoon and noticed Bucky looking at you from the corner of his eye.
"You have a little..." He pointed to your face.
A million terrified guesses careened through your head.
"Here..." He leaned towards you a little and your heart stuttered. He swiped his gloved left hand over your lips and showed you the smar of yellow cream on it.
"Oh," You smiled, looking at his hand. You could see half a sentimeter of metal glinting from under his sleeve.
Bucky hastily pulled the sleeve down, his eyes darting around. He straightened and pressed his rigid back to the bench.
"Sorry, that's the... I din't think."
"Don't apologise," Yous aid softly. He looked at you and his face broke your heart a little bit, "It's just your hand."
He smiled, and you could see his chest deflate a little, the anxiety leaving him.
"You're not... scared or..."
"No," You said, firm in your conviction. Your thighs were clenched together from fear of rejection, but you grabbed his left hand while the strength was there and lifted it to your lips.
His eyes widened and he exhaled with a tiny groan. You kissed his knuckles and looked at him, holding his hand in your lap.
Bucky was beautiful. You knew that he was amazing since you first found out about him and became a quiet fangirl, but now that you actually knew him, the real him... You were truly afraid for your heart.
He leaned towards you, slowly, and cupped your face. You could smell the peppermint on his breath and his leathery cologne.
He kissed you, fruity and soft, and you could feel yourself falling.
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