#and would have fought a bitch with his broken busted hands to protect those kids

[himbeaux-on-ice]

suspicions that 2021 playoff shea weber was basically being held together with duct tape and prayers by the end of the run confirmed

[demibats]

make a mess. [bucky barnes]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Run-through: The love and heartbreak of knowing the Winter Soldier

Word Count: 1.5k

Themes: ANGST ANGST ANGST, smut

Bucky Barnes, the infamous Winter Soldier, was the love of your life. Over the span of the three years you were together, you came to realize that. You would’ve killed or died for him and he would’ve done the same. The magnetic attraction was evident from the moment you met him. Those memories still were as clear as the day it happened. 

“This is James,” Steve had said, introducing you to the metal-armed man, “This is Y/N.” Your eyes met and it was like you saw the future you wanted with him so badly in that millisecond.

He playfully punched Steve’s arm with the metal fist before outstretching his flesh hand to shake yours. Once he had your hand in his, he surprised you by bringing your knuckles up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on them.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said to him, blushing like mad.

He looked up at you, “The pleasure is all mine.”

The pain was still there and all too real. The heavy rocks that existed in your chest never left and you knew they’d stay there. You put on a mask, of course, to hide your pain from the heroes around you. Almost all of them saw through it, but they wouldn’t bring it up in fear of upsetting you or making things more awkward than they already were.

You assisted the Avengers in a way that went overlooked to most. You were a behind-the-scenes agent, compiling data, updating mission reports and doing much research on enemy targets or missions. You worked closely with Maria Hill, but rarely fired your gun. It was necessary to carry it and know how to operate it, but you weren’t in the line of fire often. At least, not anymore.

You kept things business as usual until you were secluded to the confines of your room. You could finally take off the mask you’d forced yourself to always wear in public. It hurt seeing Bucky every single day, having to interact with him, having to act like nothing happened between the two of you. You thought that as the days went on, it would hurt less, but it only seemed to bring more pain into your life. 

“You have a lot of freckles on your back.” He mumbled into the back of your head, his metal arm cradling you protectively, his body pressed against yours.

You turned your head back slightly, trying to look at him with a sarcastic expression, “Well quit looking at them.” You snapped, your cheeks heating up as he pointed this out to you.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how shy his observation made you, “No way, doll, I’m gonna count all of them.”

As he slinked down your back, counting the freckles, he placed gentle kisses on your skin. Eventually he was down between your legs, having given up on counting the freckles. Instead, he caressed your hips, face buried in between your thighs, flicking his tongue against your clit rapidly. You arched your back against his face, tugging on his mocha-colored locks, signaling to him that he was doing a good job, to say the least. 

The memories you had couldn’t just disappear. You thought about them daily, hourly. You wished you could have that back again, to have him back in your arms, back in your life in the way he was. It just wouldn’t happen and both of you knew it. You knew that no matter the years that you spent together, the connection you had, the memories that plagued both of your thoughts, that that life you had built no longer existed. It only existed in memories. 

You kept yourself busy almost every day, working when you were scheduled not to, working during your breaks. It kept your mind off of the inevitable thoughts that would come once you were alone. Some days you were angry for constantly throwing yourself a pity party, some you were numb to all feelings and some you were so hellbent on keeping yourself busy that you managed a subtle smile every once in a while. It hurt like a bitch thinking that Bucky was actually fine. That was another thought that kept you up at night. How he might be sleeping just fine while you toss and turn without the heavy dip in your beside you, created by his weight. 

“You act like I can’t take care of myself, James.” You rarely ever used his first name, but during arguments, it tended to pop up more often than not. 

Bucky stood a few feet away from you, trying to fit words together without letting his anger take over, “I have every goddamn right to worry. This is a field mission, Y/N. Of course it’s gonna make me feel uneasy.”

“I know what I’m doing! I compiled the report for this, I did the research. Quit treating me like a child.”

You couldn’t see past the worry as him almost parenting you on what you could and couldn’t do. You weren’t seeing the worried boyfriend, you were seeing a bossy, arrogant man that didn’t even exist. 

“Something could happen. Something could go wrong that none of us could expect, and you could be put at bigger risk than you already are.”

You scoffed, “What’s that supposed to mean, James?”

You knew what it meant. It meant that because you weren’t genetically modified, that you weren’t some super soldier, or an enhanced individual, that you would only be a distraction to others around you.

He stuttered, trying to think o f the right words to use, but he couldn't. 

“Yeah, okay. Get the hell out of my room, James.”

No amount of self-care nights, favorite food binges or Netflix shows could fill the gaping hole in your chest. Heartbreak is no joke and you knew that. You had just never experienced it to this extent. You imagined that Bucky hadn’t either, considering his lengthy past. That thought was the only thing that kept you from sobbing into your pillow. That maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the heartbreak as well.

You thought about the reason why you and Bucky broke up often. Trying to figure out a way that maybe the two of you could still stay together. It seemed unlikely and Bucky was stubborn, he wouldn’t just give in… not even for you. You stayed up late into the night, thinking of him. How maybe some night he might sneak into your room and want you again. Some nights, you would get up and walk toward his room, but you never made it all the way there. It would be too embarrassing if he turned you away. 

“Buck, will you hand me that med-kit behind you?” Steve kept his voice calm, staring down at you as you faded in and out of consciousness. 

You tried to tell the team that you were fine, that it was just a scratch. It was actually a bullet wound that was bleeding steadily. Bucky didn’t listen to Steve, but instead continued to stare off into space, completely zoned out. Steve got up to retrieve the kit himself, purposefully nudging Bucky to try to get him to snap out of it. Steve patched you up as best as he could, then when he tried to tend to your other smaller wounds, you gestured him away. You closed your eyes, lip busted, broken cheek bone and the top to your uniform ripped away, a large bandage tightly tied around your hips to stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound. 

Eventually, you passed out from blood loss and woke up in the Hospital Wing of the compound, wearing a sports bra and loose sweats. Your head ached but that was nothing compared to the feeling of guilt. Bucky knew this would happen and you fought him tooth and nail to be on that mission, to prove to him that you can handle yourself. You knew that you’d never hear the end of it.

And then you did. You heard the end of it two days later when he broke things off, explaining that you’d be safer. His voice was deadpan, avoiding eye contact the entire time. He offered no room for discussion, he only said that you’d be safer and he apologized for allowing your relationship to go on for so long that you got hurt. You were more than physically hurt after he broke up with you. You stood where he left you, angry, wanting to storm after him and yell and cry and work things out, but knew that that would get you nowhere. He made up his mind.

You’d always pictured how things could’ve worked out had you two still been together. You thought about all the dates you hadn’t gone on, about him proposing and having the perfect wedding. Maybe you’d even have kids, he’d talked about wanting a baby before briefly. You pictured them with his eyes, knowing they’d mean more than the world to both of you. These thoughts of yours weren’t helping. Sometimes they’d make you feel good for a moment, stuck in your head, daydreaming. Then you’d be snapped out of it and have to face the realization that that wasn’t in your cards anymore.

You were simply left to put yourself back together and you’d do exactly that. It’d hurt like hell at first but you WOULD be able to do it. He’d made the mess, but you’d make sure no one else would notice it.