may have to sit down and force myself to start writing again this weekend so if anyone sees this please give me some inspo and let me know what you want to see đ
(i only added marvel tags but feel free to ask for anything else and i will have a go)
Summary: Sort of based on Don't Forget you Love Me by Calum Hood / the vibes of his whole album tbfh. Kind of angsty I guess but you and Bucky get in a fight because he thinks he's not good enough for you and he walks out. Months later he's sad and alone and finds himself at your front door full of whiskey and regret.
A/N: sorry i kind of posted two things then died for 6 months but thank you for all the love on my previous posts and hope you enjoy this!
Fuck. He shouldnât be here. He had promised you he would stay away for good this time, yet he just couldnât help himself. It was past midnight. What was he doing? You would have gone to bed hours ago.
This was stupid. He was stupid.
Why was he such a fucking idiot? You deserved so much better than him and thatâs why he had to stay away.
But here he was.
The rain continued to lash against the windshield of his car, parked haphazardly a block from your apartment. The city was quiet - too quiet - compared to his head which was too loud. All he could do was watch your apartment window through teary eyes and bring the half empty bottle of whiskey from his passenger seat to his lips. It did nothing. He felt nothing. That stupid serum kept finding new ways to ruin his life.Â
He could have died years ago.
He should have died years ago. There was nothing left for him anymore. His whole life, all he was was controlled and manipulated and used as a weapon. In truth, he had wished heâd just died when he fell from that train more times that he could count.
At least when Steve was found, he was welcomed back as a hero - the great Captain America. But what was Bucky? A murderer? A criminal? In all honesty, all heâd ever been was a fuck up. You were the one good thing he had finally found in his life and heâd fucked that up too.
He took another long sip of his drink squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to drown out the pain pressing against his chest as he thought back to the last argument youâd had. He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, breath fogging the glass.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, her voice played like a broken record.
âI wonât beg you to stay."
He hated himself for the way heâd left, even though he had convinced himself it was for the best.Â
Another swig. Another memory.Â
Before he knew what he was doing his hand found itself pulling his phone out of his pocket and your contact information was on the screen.
The photo of the two of you taunted him.
You smiled whilst he pretended to look annoyed at the picture - even though heâd secretly loved that you wanted to take pictures and show him off like he actually mattered. That you were proud of him. That you loved him. You made him believe he was actually worthy of love - even with all his broken pieces. And heâd destroyed that too, just like he destroyed everything.
His finger hovered over the call button.Â
He knew heâd fucked up and hurt you. He knew heâd promised to stay away, to leave you alone for good this time, but he ached to hear your voice again.
What would you say?
Surely you hated him by now anyway, plus you were sleeping, you probably wouldnât even pick up. Besides, even if you did answer, what would he actually say to you? Sorry wouldnât even begin to cover it.
He let out another huff of frustration, switched off his phone and roughly shoved it back into his pocket. His metal hand flexed once on the steering wheel. Then again.
Then it opened the door.Â
The rain hit him instantly â cold and sharp, like it was punishing him for even thinking of doing this. He hadnât bothered with a jacket. Didnât even care enough to lock the car. What was the point in anything anymore?
He kept his head down and whiskey close as his feet instinctively led him up to your door. His hair was soaked and had begun to stick to his face, the bitter taste of the hair gel you had bought him, mixed with the saltiness of his own tears and he hated everything even more. Boots heavy on the wet pavement, each step echoed the same question.
What the hell are you doing, Barnes?
His heart was pounding and his breathing had become ragged by the time heâd made it to your door. He was afraid like heâd never been afraid before. He was terrified of what this might do to you. To him. Of what it meant to finally admit he was wrong. Nerves and guilt weighed so heavily against his chest, he almost turned around.Â
Almost.
But there he was at your door, metal fist hovering just inches from the wood. His fingers curled. Relaxed. Curled again.Â
The smell of your apartment made him nauseous. He was so close to you, so powerless against the tidal wave of memories that washed over him. The two of you, happy in that apartment. Your hand in his hair, whispering how youâd always love him.Â
But that was before.Â
Before he broke that promise and every other one heâd made to you.
He saw the two of you the last time he was here, tears streaming down both your faces. The way he wanted to hug you and kiss them away and hurt whoever had made you so sad â except it was his fault.
It hits him.
Like a punch in the chest. Like a panic attack soaked in regret.Â
It was his fault.
He felt like he was paralysed. He couldnât breathe. It was like watching himself fall off that goddamn train. Except it was worse.
Suddenly, he was back in your bedroom.
He was standing in the doorway, watching as you stood opposite him with your arms crossed over your chest like it was the only thing holding you together. He remembered the way your voice cracked, and the way his heart cracked all the same, as you spoke.
âJust talk to me, Bucky. Please.â
And he hadnât. Heâd looked away. You had a way of reading him like an open book and so heâd always look away whenever things got too real. He had kept his face blank as you continued to plead with him. Truly, he had thought it was for the best. Even if it hurt you now, you would get over it - over him - in time, youâd move on and find someone better.Â
âSay something⊠AnythingâŠâ you whispered, shaking your head sadly. You knew exactly what he was doing, he did this every time. Every. Single. Time. Youâd had the same argument more times than either of you would ever care to admit, and you both knew you couldnât keep going on like this.
Bucky had been pulling away for weeks. And you had tried to lie to yourself and tell yourself you were overthinking too much. In favour of avoiding unnecessary conflict, you had forced yourself to believe his vague excuses about being busy with work or too tired every time heâd cancel plans. Youâd offered to be a shoulder to cry on and compromised countless times just for him to refuse you endlessly. You knew he had his troubled past to deal with but the more youâd try to be there for him, the more heâd push you away. You didnât know what else to do.Â
âFine. I canât do this anymore. Just go, â you managed to choke out finally after another long silence. "If you keep choosing to be alone, I wonât beg you to stay."
He knew what you were doing. It was a test. A final attempt to get him to wake up and realise he was making a mistake. He knew he should have said something. Done something - done anything - to try and fix this. But in truth, he was falling apart. He couldnât think clearly anymore. The nightmares had returned worse than ever and he was terrified that he would lose control and that the Winter Soldier would hurt you. That he would hurt you. He had started believing that loving you was selfish, that you deserved peace and someone who wouldnât carry death in their hands. And so there was nothing else he could do. Leaving you alone really was for the best.Â
He just stood there, watching the best thing that ever happened to him slowly slip away.
Part of him wanted to fall apart too. To drop to his knees and admit to everything heâd kept buried. To tell you how he wasnât pushing you away because he didnât love you, but because he did. So much it terrified him.
But instead, he let silence win. Told himself he was doing the right thing. That youâd be better off. That one day youâd understand.
So he turned around and walked out of your life.
He shouldâve looked you in the eyes. Shouldâve told you the truth. That he still woke up screaming. That he still didnât know how to be held without bracing for the moment heâd fuck up and youâd pull away. That every time you told him you loved him, it felt like a countdown.
But he hadnât said any of that.
He hadnât said anything at all. Just turned his back on the only person who had ever stayed.
And now here he was at your door. Metal fist raised and shaking, merely inches away from the hard wood. His breath hitched in his throat. The rain was still coming down in heavy sheets, soaking through his clothes, dripping from his hair into his eyes, but he didnât move.
He stood there like a ghost haunting the life heâd almost had.
Every part of him screamed to knock. Just once. To see your face. To say he was sorry. That he never stopped loving you.
But what would he even say?
That he didnât mean it? That he was scared? That he thought youâd be safer without him?
Would it even matter now?
Maybe you'd moved on. Maybe youâd finally found someone who could show up when it counted. Maybe the only thing left between you was this silence - and maybe that was kinder than dragging you back into his mess.
His hand dropped to his side.
âI love you, Iâm sorry,â he whispered, barely audible - not that anyone was around to hear it. In truth, it wasnât really for you anyway. It was meant for no one but himself. He just needed to say it. At least one last time. Â
He let out a long, heavy sigh. His heart ached with the weight of everything heâd never said, the pieces of it lodged somewhere between his ribs and throat.
Momentarily, time stood still.
He listened through the rain half hoping youâd somehow hear his whispered confession and respond. That the door would open. That youâd be there. That youâd forgive him - even though he didnât deserve it.Â
But there was only silence.
The same silence heâd left between you on that last night.
There were a million things he wished he had said back then. A thousand ways he should have fought for you. But he hadnât. Heâd walked away.
And now, there was nothing. Nothing he could do to fix it.
He swallowed hard.
âJust donât forget you loved me,â he breathed into the night.
One final, desperate plea.
Then he turned around, and walked back into the rain like heâd never been there at all.
A/N: bucky at the stark expo in tfa letting the girl drag him around??? this is 1000% realistic and I have had this idea for weeks but was too lazy and then when I finally sat down and wrote half I forgot to save it and had to rewrite it so rip :')
please comment and lmk what you think because iâm still new and so in my head about my writing!
âOh my god, Bucky,â she gasped suddenly as she stopped in the middle of the aisle.
âWhat?â he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glanced over to where she was pointing.
âLook itâs us,â she excitedly gestured towards some paint your own avenger figurines.
They had somehow found themselves cutting through the toy aisle and the Avenger section had caught her eye. She had been part of the team for nearly two years now, yet somehow it was still so surreal whenever she saw toys and other merchandise modelled after herself.
A small smirk appeared on his lips as he took the two figures in. He picked one the boxes up, allowing his eyes to study the miniature version of himself, finding himself impressed with the attention to detail on his uniform.
âDamn⊠This actually looks pretty good,â he chuckled, running his metal hand through his hair before carefully placing it back on the shelf.
Noticing the way his mouth subtly curved up in amusement, an idea crept into her mind.
"Pretty please can we get them?" she asked sweetly, widening her eyes ever so slightly as she blinked up at him.
"Fine,â he sighed softly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head though the small smirk remained in place. He was hopeless against her pouting and they both knew it. She had the Winter Soldier wrapped around her pretty little finger; he could never deny her anything.
Her lips quickly flicked up into an excited smile as she added two boxes to the trolley before pushing it along so they could continue with their shopping.
***
Once they had finished cleaning up from dinner, she excitedly set up the figurines and paints on the dining table, snapping a quick picture for her socials - as cheesy as it was.
The scene looked like something straight from Pinterest, she had lit candles and got out their fanciest wine glasses determined to make a romantic evening of it. This week in particular had been extremely stressful, and she figured they both deserved to relax and spend some quality time together.
âBaby,â she called out for Bucky to join her. She greeted him with a gentle kiss on the cheek and instructed him to sit down. She giggled softly shaking her head as he sat down in front of his own clay figure. âNope, weâre painting each other, itâll be more fun that way.â
âFine,â Bucky groaned and reluctantly agreed, unable to deny her. This whole âpaint and sipâ thing she had insisted on as soon as she saw the figures in the supermarket sounded ridiculous to him, but she looked so excited by the prospect he couldnât bear to refuse her. Besides, he found the whole 'sip' part of the night extremely agreeable. And maybe he did secretly adore all the effort she had put into their date night; it had been so long since anyone had cared for him like this.
Bucky shook his head in slight amusement as he picked up his wine glass and took a long sip before picking up the clay figure of you. He ran his hand over the smooth clay with a soft hum, impressed at its likeness to her.
"Just don't laugh at me, if mine looks completely awful," he grumbled though a hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips as he grabbed the brush and dipped it carefully into the paint.
âI wonât,â she chuckled softly and shook her head, watching him as he began to work. She was surprised to see how seriously he was taking this, the way his metal hand held the figure so gently and his whole face had scrunched up in concentration. She smiled at the sight taking a sip of her drink before picking up her own brush.
***
The hours passed by quietly, the couple surprisingly more invested in their art projects than either of them expected to be.
âThis is a lot harder than I thought it would be,â she muttered swearing under her breath as she accidentally smudged some of the paint on her figure. The paint that came with the kit was awful and patchy and had preferred to stick to their hands and anywhere but the model. She had been struggling to paint in the details on his face for the last hour and was just about ready to give up.
"You're telling me," Bucky replied with a soft chuckle, equally as frustrated as he smeared away and attempted to start on the painting again. His brows were furrowed in a deep look of concentration, his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he focused intensely on the figure in front of him. "This is impossible."
âReady to call it a night?â she suggested as she poured the last of the wine into her glass and practically drank it in one sip.
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea,â he murmured in agreement, letting out an exasperated sigh as he set the figure down. He looked a bit disappointed in his work, but at the same time, he couldn't help but to chuckle at how ridiculous they looked sitting there, frustrated over a painting meant for children.
She nodded, chuckling softly as she looked over their figures. Despite their best efforts, the paint messily smudged over the figures barely even resembled humans anymore. She stood letting out a soft yawn deciding that tidying could wait until morning. She grabbed the remaining bottle of wine on the table and took it into their bedroom with Bucky in an attempt to salvage the rest of their night.
Words: 600??
A/N: idk what you want to call this, there isn't really a plot and i haven't edited it but i was struggling to write my other fic/blurb because the english student in me was overthinking every word and grammatical choice and i just needed to write something to get going really
You've been dating Bucky for a while, and he finally invites you back to his apartment for a drink after a dinner date. He had mentioned he had a cat he loved very much, and you were excited to meet her but nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to witness.
As you walk into this apartment she immediately races up to Bucky and claws at his leg. Without a second thought, he drops your hand to pick her up and give her little face a whole bunch of kisses. You barely recognise the way the man in the leather jacket has softened his voice so much as he murmurs to his cat about how much he missed her and how much her loves her. Oddly, you were almost jealous that the furthest you had got with him was a respectful kiss goodnight.
A minute or two pass as he greets his kitten lovingly before remembering you were stood at his side and turning to you.
"This is Alpine," he finally formally introduces the two of you. She was adorable and fluffy and all you wanted to do was scoop her up in your arms too but the way she glared at you made you hesitate. Instead, you reach out and stroke her carefully murmuring a soft hi in an attempt to let her familiarise herself with you.
As soon as Bucky placed her down, she wandered off without a second glance at you. You watched at her as she wandered down the hall and into a room with the door open as Bucky ushered you into the kitchen in the opposite direction.
"Don't mind her, she'll be back soon. She just takes a while to warm up to new people," he explains sheepishly as he invites you to sit down whilst he makes you a drink. You nod understandingly accepting the drink and sipping it as you engage in easy conversation with Bucky.
After a while Alpine makes her way into the kitchen and hops into Bucky's lap. You watch as he instinctively pets her soft fur as he continues his conversation with you. However, Alpine appears unsatisfied at the lack of attention, the way Bucky was too invested in you currently to even glance down at her and crawls up on the counter. You were a little surprised but didn't think much of it as she wandered around but she was a smart cat, and she waited for your eyes to leave her and return to Bucky before she pushed the bottle of wine you and bucky were sharing onto the floor.
It hit the floor with a loud crash and Bucky immediately jumped up and scooped her into his arms apologising to you briefly before fussing over his cat and ensuring she didn't hurt herself. You knew she loved the attention and couldn't blame her honestly. Once Bucky had properly ensured his precious kitten was not injured he stood up with her carefully and walked back down the hall. You followed behind him curiously as he entered the room youâd seen Alpine walk into earlier, you had assumed it was Buckyâs room and couldnât help the small huff of laughter that left your lips as you realised that you were wrong.
It was Alpineâs room.
Of course she had her own room. She had a bed in every room in the apartment and toys all over the place, Bucky had sent you countless photos of the two in bed together but here was a fully furnished cat bedroom Bucky had set up for her. He had her so spoilt it was no wonder she was so possessive of him. You watched silently amused as he dropped her off and closed the door before heading back to the kitchen to clean up with you.
Summary: Steve wished you were his but he knew you never could be.
Warnings: Angst, bits of fluff smothered in angst.
Of course it had to be you, wonderful you.
It had to be you the same woman who his best friend was in love with.
He couldn't have fallen for anyone else, he had to fall for you.
Steve was kicking himself for falling for you, you were clearly in love with Bucky.
I mean it was so obvious, you would always look for him whenever you walked into a room, always wanting to be around to Bucky.
You had barely spoken two words to Steve this week but you were all over Bucky. Talking to Bucky, laughing at his jokes, listening to his stories and not Steve's.
Steve felt like such an idiot whenever you entered a room and his turned into a flustering, blushing mess.
He felt like an idiot everytime you looked at him for just a second longer than usual, thinking, praying that you might return his feelings even in the slightest. But he couldn't think that, he couldn't, because it was never going to happen.
Steve looked down at his sketchbook, filled with drawings of you and let out a sigh full of longing.
It was ridiculous, he couldn't even be in the same room as you, especially if Bucky was there.
Seeing you smile at Bucky and touch his arm, not being afraid, not even concerned just being happy being in Bucky's presence. Bucky's. Not Steve's.
Then when Bucky told Steve how he felt one night Steve felt like his heart had been stomped on because he knew all Bucky had to do was say those three little words and you'd be his. Not Steve's.
He could see it now all Bucky need do is ask you to be his and you would be. Steve could picture it, one night Bucky would say 'I love you' and you would return his love tenfold.
Steve could see your whole lives play out, first you'd date for a while maybe take it a bit slow at first but then you'd realise you were each other's person, one true love and you'd move in together. Not too long after you'd decide it was time to get your own home, out of the tower, and you find a nice little house in the suburbs with a yard and a porch. You might start off with a dog, something big and cuddly like that dog from Beethoven. He'd run around the yard with the two of you chasing sticks and frisbees, getting belly rubs and lots of pats. One night maybe your second anniversary, Bucky would spring for the best table at the best restaurant. You'd get something like lobster ravioli and do the cutesy little couple things like Lady and the Tramp-ing the spaghetti and linking arms to drink wine, probably dribbling a little and giggling. When you'd gone to the bathroom, Bucky would order champagne and place the ring in the bottom of your glass, a bit cliche but it'd work, you look down into your glass and look back at Bucky to see if this was a joke. But it wasn't. You'd squeal and fish the ring out the glass with a fork. It would be nice but not too flashy, he wanted to put the money towards your next adventure, preferably kids. You'd love the ring if it were plastic, but it really meant a lot to you seeing your favourite stone in the centre, you couldn't even remember when you'd mentioned it but you must've.
Next would come the wedding where Steve would of course be the best man, because he had to put yours and Bucky's happiness above all, including his own feelings. The music would play and you'd walk down the isle in a beautiful white gown, not huge and poofy and overstated but something elegant and almost regal to match your own beauty. You and Bucky would look into each other's eyes and see your soulmates and Steve would be off to the side looking at you seeing the same but knowing it couldn't be. You'd both recite your vows, so beautiful they'd make anyone cry, and then it would be time for objections. Every part of Steve wanted to say something, anything, to say that he's loved you for years but every part of him forbid it. He watched his best friend kiss you and he watched you reciprocate the kiss with so much love it hurt. He watched the two of you walk out of that church and off to your honeymoon where you'd no undoubtedly conceive your first child.
A few weeks after you'd get back you'd find out you were pregnant, when you told your new husband the news he'd cry out a single tear, so happy to finally be living a normal life. The first person you two would tell was of course Steve. He'd put on his best fake smile and tried to make it through the pain for as long as he could, but the second you'd walk out the door he'd be in tears. It should have been his child you were carrying, not Bucky's. When the day would finally come Bucky would introduce Steve to his little godson, Steven Barnes. He'd hold the child in his arms and he'd feel evil. He'd feel evil for wishing it were his child with you. Then would come more, more little bundles of joy that would call Bucky 'dad' and Steve 'uncle'. And eventually those little bundles of joy would grow up, all successful, lawyers, doctors, humanitarians. All with their mother's heart, full of kindness and love. Steve would have to watch you and Bucky grow old together, sitting on that same porch surrounded by grandchildren and even a few great grandchildren running around full of life.
Prompt #1070: âSorry I tried to kill you.â âItâs fine, but next time you should try harder.â
A/N: it's my first post so it's probably a little cheesy but hopefully still somewhat enjoyable.
A mission gone wrong was an understatement.
Bucky had gotten intel that a group of HYDRA operatives were in the area and was preparing to confront them. But they were smarter than he had expected, and there were more agents than anticipated. He was outnumbered and he was pinned to the ground with an agent's boot pressing into his back. He heard the sound of a gun cocking and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he prepared for the worst.
All of a sudden, instead of a bullet, he heard a feminine voice chime in. His eyes snapped open, immediately recognising the voice. He strained his neck up and quickly spotted her standing a few feet away, pistol pointed at the operative above him. Silently, he watched as she fired the gun with a grin. The pressure of the boot on his back was instantly replaced with the weight of the man's body falling limp on top of him.
He slowly stood up, still eyeing her. He was definitely sceptical after she had been involved with a HYDRA attack a few months ago. He brushed himself off, taking note of the other unconscious HYDRA men on the ground. He raised an eyebrow at her again before speaking in a slightly sarcastic tone.
"Why am I not surprised to see you here?"
"Relax, Barnes. Consider this payback for the last time we met," she rolled her eyes.
He huffed out a laugh, crossing his arms as he stepped closer to her.
"Oh yeah, the last time we met you tried to kill me."
"In my defence, it was nothing personal. It was just business," she shrugged nonchalantly, as she glanced around for any other HYDRA agents she might have missed.
"Doesn't change the fact that you tried to kill me."
"And I said I was sorry I tried to kill you," she responds, a faint smirk played at the corner of her lips. "Besides, I just saved your life so you can consider it even."
He stared her up and down for a moment, mentally weighing the situation. She had a point. In a way, he was indebted to her now. He begrudgingly nodded, and gave her a slightly sarcastic smirk in return.
"Fine, but next time you should try harder."
A small laugh escaped her lips at his unexpected response as they walked.
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