Bucky One-Shots and Imagines

Losing him

Another request: "One where the reader tragically get separated from Bucky or something,"

Also I'm not feeling the best so apologies if this is too depressing, I recently moved areas which meant I had to leave alllll of my best friends that lived right next door to me behind.

I miss my guy best friend, Nathan, most and I just wanna give him the biggest hug and kiss ever when I see him again.

——
Steve stared at your face, which remained expectant of an answer. The smile you wore immediately fell, replaced by a deep frown. You titled your head, surveying his visage. He turned away from you, not meeting your eye.

This was when you began to piece things together, feeling your heart detach from its delicate strings and drop into the pit of your stomach. Steve's mouth was pursed in a tight line, eyebrows furrowed and gaze directed at his feet as if he was holding himself together with all his strength. You cup his face in your hand forcing it up, glancing into his sky-colored eyes, glazed with unshed tears but not giving away anything just yet.

You felt the rumble of the Quinjet stop as Natasha stepped off. You stared at Steve patiently, waiting for a response.

"Steve," You said again, your voice loud but wavering slightly, giving way to your anxiousness, "Where's Bucky?" You asked again.

The super-soldier tore his face away from your hand and wordlessly left you on the helipad, alone with your thoughts. The worst of outcomes raced through your head and you sat down hugging your knees. You fell deeper and deeper through the paradox of your mind, unable to turn back or see straight. You search for him, closing your eyes, darting from left to right in your mind-box and yet all you see is the mist of his aura, floating around in despair.

You shook a little, tears flowing onto your cheeks in heavy floods. They dropped to the floor and for the first time in hours, you let out an anguished scream, dropping to the front of your knees so hard they scraped.

You didn't know what was happening, but you felt yourself going into overdrive. Rage induced plasma floated around you in thick waves and you lay a solid punch to the ground, instantly piercing the floor but shattering your knuckle in the process. You didn't seem to care. Your chest felt heavy as if cinderblocks were being weighted on it and you sobbed violently, sending ripples of powerful energy fluttering everywhere.

You heard the sound of glass breaking but once again, you didn't care. You probably shattered every single window on the Avengers Estate but you didn't care.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Bucky was gone.

Bucky Barnes was gone.

You dried your face, and set off down the stairs. When the others approached you to help, your face remained stoic and impassive, the mere shell of a soulless body. You said nothing. When Bruce tried talking to you while healing your broken fist, you said nothing. When Sam tried comforting you, you said nothing. When Tony spoke to you about it over the comms of a mission, you said nothing. When Natasha approached you on a late Friday afternoon, you shut her out and said nothing.

When you and Steve were set up to spar for the day, he said nothing either. He was just as cold and inscrutable. Although, it made you feel slightly guilty to admit, you found comfort in how his emotional response mirrored yours.

Yet still you refused to express what you felt. It became a defense mechanism, these giant walls you built, forcing everyone you used to hold close out. It was supposed to protect you and prevent you from getting hurt and before you knew it, your emotions were on lockdown.

Now, Saturdays used to be your favourite day. It was the one day of the week where everyone was allowed a late start and you could watch the sun rise lazily above the city skyline as you curled up tight next to Bucky, who was still fast asleep. He'd spoon you once he was awake, wrapping his arms around your midriff, burying his face in your hair, and-