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soopranatural · 6 years

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Who I was looking for -Part 23

Summary: Even after you started wearing cuffs, the words are engraved in your mind as well as your wrist. You know you're not destined for love as soon as you learn how to read. How could you? When the words "Sorry, you're not who I was looking for" are written in black ink on your skin.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: angst, pining, insecurity, etc

Words: 2972

A/N: I have literally no excuse I've just been too depressed to write, sorry for the delay. Hope you like it though! I sure enjoyed writing it, even if it was at a pace of two words a day lol

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Part 22 Series Masterlist

It's a different kind of silence, the kind that fills the room, it presses against your ears and muffles all sound. It curls inside your lungs and around your throat, making it imposible to breathe.

I can't.

"Stop" you say, but the silence muffles your voice.

You can't cry. In some way, deep inside you, you always knew this would happen. You knew that no matter how hard you tried to be better or how much you denied your words they would never disappear from your skin. No leather cuff could cut the thread of destiny.

Your destiny, whether you liked it or not, no matter how much you tried to change it. Was to be rejected.

Rejected.

Is that really what had happened? You'd thought that Bucky would be, if not your soulmate, your friend. But the way he had run, the way the very thought of being with you had sent him into obvious panic, said otherwise. The worst part was that you didn't even know what you'd done wrong. Had it been something you'd done at all? Or was the rejection inevitable, as indelible as the ink on the skin of your wrist.

There's pain, sharp and heavy, rippling from your chest to the rest of your body. A broken cry and a gasp are teared from your throat, and you bring up your shaking hand to muffle your dry sobs. You're shaking all over, and you can't stand a moment longer. Your desk chair ir right in front of you, but still you sink to the floor, cradling your chest as if to gather the remaining pieces of your heart.

"Pull yourself together" you gasp, horribly loud against the silence as your voice tears against your teeth and turns into something like a pained wail. You still have work to do, you can't fall apart now, not when you knew this would happen all along. Stupid, so stupid, to think he would love you back.

Your apartment feels empty, it's always been empty really. But now it feels like you don't live there either, like the couch you'd left unmade was for someone else to sleep in, like the walls were gray with time you hadn't spent there, like the space you'd been occupying hadn't really been lived in.

You're so exhausted your bones hurt, but still you lay in bed at night, staring at the familiar cracks in the ceiling. It's colored red and yellow with the lights from the city. You think about Bucky, and how you've probably lost him forever. The colors blend and blur as you cry.

You don't know how you do it. Sleeping and then waking up and going to work and answering messages. It feels like you've been watching someone else's life this whole time, and now you're being forced to live it yourself.

Anna calls and you don't answer. It's the first time you've ever done that.

The week goes by at an agonizing pace. And on Friday you're just about ready to collapse right where you're standing. Your work has been piling up all week, since you've been a lot slower than usual and find it harder to concentrate without drifting off. So now you have to stay and finish everything. It's hell, by the time you're done you've been about to cry out of frustration twice, only just managing to get it together at the last moment. It's dark outside.

You're nervous, there's been rumors of a dangerous gang causing trouble in the city, and you're walking home alone in the darkness of the night. But it's not like you can stay here, so you pack up your things and steel yourself, you'll just have to walk quickly.

The light are still on but the tower feels empty. You're walking down the hallway, clutching your briefcase tightly in your hands when suddenly there's a tap to your shoulder. You're so startled that you yelp, turning around to stare wide eyed at the person behind you.

"What are you still doing here?" He asks, holding his hands up placatingly "it's really late."

Holy shit.

"I um..." you don't know what to say. There he is, another one of the Avengers, chewing on a croissant and standing right in front of you like it's nothing.

"Sorry for startling you" he brushes crumbs from his hand on the side of his jeans and then offers it to you. "I'm-"

"Hawkeye" you gasp, at the same time he says "Clint".

There's a short, awkward silence that lasts anywhere between one third of a second and five years. And then he grins so big that his eyes almost close.

"Oh. Ooh ho HO! AHA! Nat is gonna love that, holy shit. You're my favorite person already" he takes it upon himself to grab the hand you never offered and shake it excitedly. "C’mon, I'll walk you home."

He starts striding purposefully towards the elevator and you follow him automatically, struggling to catch up with him. You tap him on the shoulder so he turns to you "Wh-hey! What's going on?"

He chews the last bite of his croissant deliberately while you wait for the elevator to come up "There's kind of an informal curfew now, cuz of all that's been going on? Everyone else's gone from the building, but FRIDAY said you were still here."

"And you came to pick me up?" That seemed a little below his pay grade.

"Yup, they were gonna send one of the guards for you, but I volunteered." He chuckles to himself "you kinda saved me from having to answer some awkward questions at 'family dinner'" he does air quotes and shakes his head in amusement "normally I just turn this off" he taps his hearing aid with his index finger "but this time I was targeted directly, so thanks for that, um..."

"Y/N" you say, you're still a little starstruck, but he's talking too fast for you to truly process it.

"Holy shit! Isn't that a coincidence?" He's looking at you strangely, and you hope you haven't been staring at him like that this whole time, that would be embarrassing. "Nat told me about you."

You choke on absolutely nothing, and your voice comes out like a wheeze when you speak "She what?" This is insane, absolutely freaking insane.

"Oh yah" And then says nothing else on the matter.

He salutes one of the guards at the entrance "Night Gary! Anyway, where are we going? I'm kinda just walking anywhere, heh, but I don't actually know the way"

"Oh! Sorry, I have to get to the subway so It's good"

Clint -and calling him that is still weird- is surprisingly talkative, he asks you about your life, specific questions like 'Is the coffee on your floor any good? Have you tried out the gym already? Why did you move to New York?' He asks you about your hobbies and your friends in a way that suggests he's actually interested in knowing the life of a normal civilian like you and not just making small talk.

He befriends two old ladies on the subway, cooing over their dog -an old labrador sleeping at their feet- and asking about their grandkids. The ladies share their top secret hot chocolate recipe with him.

This is the most normal you've felt in some time, and some of the heaviness lifts from your heart. Clint feels like a friend already, more open and honest and human than most of the people you've met while working at the tower.

"We're almost there" you say after a few minutes of walking in comfortable silence. Clint has his hands in his pockets, and is humming something under his breath, the song too quiet for you to recognize.

Suddenly, there is a loud, rumbling sound behind you, disturbing the silence of the night, you turn quickly to look and see a motorcycle approaching at top speed. You grow frightened, it's not uncommon for people to be out and about at night, but you've been tense ever since you left the tower, a tickle at the back of your neck falsely alerting you of someone dangerous that is following.

You grip Clint's arm tightly, startling him into action just in time for him to turn and then pull you behind him before the motorcycle stops only a few feet away from you. Your heart is beating wildly, and although your brain fleetingly compares both experiences, this is so much worse than being catcalled.

You try to remember you're with an Avenger, and even if he doesn't have his bow and arrow with him he's still dangerous. The man gets off the bike, looking almost drunk as he stumbles over the seat and he swing his leg over it.

"Bucky?" Clint asks incredulous, relaxing his stance minutely.

It is him, you realize. He looks out of breath, as if he had ran all the way here instead of ridden a motorcycle. You know Clint knows he isn't a threat. Still, he grips you tightly again when he comes closer. Bucky looks different, almost wild, but like he's trying to contain it as best he can.

Your heart stops and then Ba-thunks back on, hammering against your ribs.

"Hey, you alright?" Clint turns to look at you for a fraction of a second before focusing back on Bucky, who staggers over to you and gives you both searching glances. There's a deep, worried frown on his face as he looks at you then at Clint then back at you again.

"Are you..I thought that, uh, um, I th-" he's panting, breathing great, heaving breaths that don't let him speak.

You share a glance with Clint, trying to read in his expression what you should do. You want to help him, but you don't know if you'll just make it worse.

"Hey man, breathe okay? You're gonna give yourself a panic attack" Clint steps forward, placing a hand on Bucky's shoulder. He shoves him off, stumbling a few steps away from you and bending forward to place his hands on his knees.

You wait a few moments in silence, trying not to panic too as you watch Bucky trying to pull himself back together.

"Can you tell us what's wrong?" You mean for your voice to come out strong and comforting, but you only manage a whisper. Still, Bucky turns to look at you out of the corner of his eye and steps closer again. He's looking at you directly, and you fidget as his hands flutter at his sides like he meant to reach out for you but thought better of it. Bucky takes a deep, steeling breath.

He turns to Clint, suddenly avoiding your gaze. "There was an attack, a little after you left" he sighs "they left a message on the wall with graffiti, and stabbed a couple walking on the street. I knew you'd left to walk Y/N home" your heart skips a beat when he says your name, but he still won't look at you "and I just thought... I had to make sure."

His gaze turns to you and then quickly away again "the others went to check out the site, I forgot my phone at the tower so I don't know the details."

You watch him closely, he looks disheveled, his face is scruffy and his eyes are bruised with lack of sleep.

Clint looks at you, then blinks back up at Bucky. He seems to decide there's something going on. "I'll tell the others we're fine, you guys..." he waggles a finger between the two of you "figure it out."

He takes his cellphone out of his pocket while he walks away "I'm taking the motorcycle, by the way!"

Bucky sighs "Clint.."

"Bye!" The roar of the engine fades as he disappears into the city.

There's a moment of awkward silence as you wait, standing in front of each other, for one of you to speak first. Then Bucky sighs, tries to run a hand through his hair and then grunts when it gets stuck on a knot.

"I-" his voice is hoarse "I'm sorry, I should head back." He keeps his head down, and the deep, crushing sadness that has been nesting in your chest ever since that day in your offices wakes up and twists itself into anger.

"I want to know why you left" you grit out. This is exactly why you didn't want a soulmate in the first place, destiny just made things so complicated. Especially one as shitty as yours. "I know I'm not... well, much. But would it really be that bad to-" you cut yourself off. To what? Give it a chance? Give you a chance? At this point you don't even know, and you're tired of letting this whole thing steer your life this way and that.

"What? No, no Y/N. you have nothing to do with it. I want you to be safe, and I would never hurt you intentionally but... you have to understand that I'm dangerous." He looks haunted as he says this, and he's reaching out for you with one hand even if he wraps his other arm around his middle. "I've done some things that are-" he swallows hard "unforgivable. And you would be much better off without me, I've hurt you enough already, and you deserve someone much better than I'll ever be. I don't want you to be with me just because you have to."

You are appalled, absolutely and thoroughly horrified that he would say that. Doesn't he know he can have this? Doesn't he know that he has you already? That he's hurting you both even more by being a self sacrificing idiot?! You've been suffering over this your whole life! He doesn't get to decide now that he has to reject you for your own fucking safety. You're a grown ass woman, you can take care of yourself.

"No, you don't have any right to do this Bucky!" You step up into his space, desperate to get him to understand. You grab onto his jacket, gripping onto it for dear life "you don't get to tell me who I deserve, and you have no right to decide who I love!" Your hands are shaking, eyes welling up with emotion, but you refuse to let your voice break. "I'm not doing this because I'm supposed to, or out of some- some fucked up sense of obligation! Fuck soulmates! I love you just because I do!"

There's blood rushing in your ears and no breath in your lungs as you search his eyes. Bright, blue pools that aren't saying anything you can understand. He looks shocked, and you fear you may have gone too far.

Suddenly, you realize how close you are to him, only a few inches from his face, hands still gripping tight onto the leather of his jacket.

You let go of him instantly, stumbling back two steps. You've definitely gone too far. You didn't even ask to touch him, got too close without his consent. You're terrified that you've harmed him somehow, crashed into one of his protective walls without permission just because you were angry.

But in the next moment, Bucky closes the distance between you in just one step, reaches out to grip you tightly by the arms, and surges forward to kiss you.

You gasp, and the sound pulls you apart. Your brain is going into overdrive- he kissed you he kissed you he kissed you- and suddenly you're talking a mile a minute.

"You're not dangerous, you're kind and compassionate and funny and thoughtful and absolutely wonderf- mhp!"

Shut up. He doesn't say it out loud, instead forming the shape of the words against your lips. And there's something, something bright and airy and earth-shattering bubbling up to your chest as his soft lips move against yours. It's a laugh, and it escapes when his arms surround your waist to press you closer to him. He's smiling too, and you taste it, again and again you taste his sweet smile as you grip onto his shoulders so you don't just float away.

"So," you can't believe it, he's holding on to you still, his whole body a wall of warmth that surrounds you in that dizzying scent. This is ridiculous, you've been standing in the middle of the sidewalk for at least a few minutes and it's ridiculous. You bite your lip to keep from giggling. "It's really late" he hums, pulling away slowly.

"I mean- I'd offer you the spare room if I had one but... heh, I don't even have a spare couch." You don't even have a proper bed.

His mouth quirks up "it's fine."

You really don't want him to go, not only because you want to just hug him forever, but because you know it's not safe right now, deadly assassin or no. You're considering the mechanics of fitting both of you on the pull out couch when he speaks again.

"I'll see you soon anyway, and I'll send you a text when I get to the tower" his eyes are bright even at this hour, and they seem to soften at your worried expression. "I'll be fine."

"I know" you say. You do know, really. But you don't want to wake up tomorrow to find out this has all been some bizarre dream.

You sigh, smiling brightly at him and standing up on your tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He grips on to your elbows gently and steps away. And either your eyes deceive you or he's blushing.

"Bye" he whispers. And you notice him shake his head at himself as he leaves, a bright, incredulous smile on his face.

Part 24

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