aw, coffee, no.

i made a new blog. i still write things that suck. i also still swear a lot. officially on hiatus till fuk knows when +main // +masterlist

[sgtbbvrnes]

nvm i have FOUND IT thank you for your help uwu

I DIDNT EVEN HELP AHAHAHA ANYWAY SORRY I DONT RLLY GO ON TUMBLR ANYMORE BUT HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY THINGIESSSSS

[sgtbbvrnes]

steve: don't do anything stupid till i get back

bucky: how can i? you're taking all the stupid with u

steve: :)

bucky:

bucky: no i'm serious you're taking it ALL i mean you're leaving all of us for a woman you barely know that you didn't even DATE and who, not to mention, moved on yeaaaaaars ago and is happy with her FAMILY and sam gave up everything for u and you're just gonna leave him like that and not to mention (again!!!) that ur sorry ass was ready to die by my hand bc u said u were with me tIlL tHe EnD oF tHe LiNe but—

[sgtbbvrnes]

I like to think that steve had come to bucky first and he'd barely said a word before he was cut off with a careful and soft “I know” that carried through the wind, tone filled with a mixture of emotions that even steve couldn't pick out. that he’d approached bucky, face a careful expression of precise expressionless but with twiddling thumbs and a worn out bottom lip that bucky saw right through. 

that bucky had smiled at him, shrugged a shoulder and said, “I'd do the same too, if it were maggie” and steve would’ve laughed, nudging bucky’s shoulder and saying in a mock-offended tone about how he’s still mad that bucky ditched him that one night to go dancing with maggie, but his tone is light and teasing and his eyes are dancing and he has no clue that bucky barely even remembers anyone named maggie, all he remembers is a dame, pretty face, shining eyes and red lips, and swinging skirt whenever he brought her out dancing. 

(truth is: it’s all still fuzzy in there, the only person he truly remembers and was ever worth remembering was the one that was always waiting for him back home, is the one beside him that’s going to leave him forever.) 

I like to think that steve sighed afterward, dejected and a little sad, and apologised to bucky. and bucky—selfless and insecure bucky—would’ve shook his head and smiled softly back at steve the only way he knows how. tells him— “she’s your north star, you ain’t ever gonna find another one like her” and steve would’ve parted his lips, ready to say more, except bucky didn't need to hear anymore (didn't want to hear anymore, every word is aching and chipping away at what's left of his little unbroken heart) so he brings a hand up to gently smack the back of steve’s head. “c’mon stupid, the doc’s waiting” and steve pouts and there are so many things that bucky wants to say, wants to do.

(wants to hold him tight, wants to beg, wants to tell him the truth is that he doesn’t know who he is without steve, wants to be selfish and bank in on the fact that steve’s always been selfless and if bucky says the world needs him needs steve rogers needs captain america then he’ll stay and—)

“will you take it?”

bucky looks at him, then he laughs, shaking his head.

“why not?” and steve sounds so perplexed, like he thought for sure that bucky would say yes.

(a sergeant before he became a sergeant, everyone had said)

“I ain’t a hero.”

“buck—”

“give it to sam.”

“... sam?”

and bucky nods, turning and looking at where the man he’s talking about is currently smack-talking the hulk for no reason other than he can. the doc’s talking shit right back, a grin on his tired green face and a tiny light in his sad eyes. 

“he’s a good man.”

“and what about you?” 

I ain’t a good man, bucky doesn’t say. he shrugs instead, looking back at steve, who’s already looking at him. “he’s gonna need someone to keep his ego in check. probably gonna need to scare away some cats for him, too. maybe stop him from flying into a glass window that he doesn’t realise is there. or something equally dumb that dumb birds do.”

steve snorts. 

“ready?” 

steve exhales, then he nods. he smiles, the smile that only bucky has gotten the privilege of seeing and the smile that agent carter will now get to grow old with. 

“hey cap,” sam calls out and steve looks to him before looking back at bucky, like asking for permission, and when bucky nods for him to go, he walks to over to sam. 

and when steve hugs him goodbye, bucky holds back the urge to hold tighter and not let go. he shoves his hands into his pockets the moment he pulls away because he doesn't even trust himself to not stop him from leaving. 

but he doesn't stop himself from saying— “gonna miss you, buddy”

steve tells him it’s gonna be okay and bucky knows it will, because that little kid from brooklyn that had always did things for others, never put himself first, was finally doing exactly that: putting himself and his happiness first. 

(bucky was happy for him. truly. it didn’t mean that his heart wasn’t a shattered mess inside his chest, though.)

and when dr banner and sam start panicking when steve doesn't show up like he was supposed to, bucky smiles. steve finally got the life he wanted. 

and he turns, and there he is— 

sam looks to bucky, as if double checking if he should be the one to talk to steve instead of bucky. bucky smiles, soft and encouraging. he hears every word of their conversation, and gives sam another of those smiles when sam looks back at him after steve has him holding onto the shield. sam looks unsure, worried, a downright terrified glint in his eyes really, and glances at bucky again, so bucky waggles his eyebrows playfully, smiles a little wider. sam’s shoulders release their tension just the slightest bit. 

and when sam comes walking back to him, shield in hand, lifting it a little to show it to him, bucky arches a brow. “can't wait to see you looking like a literal flying flag, bird brain.”

sam doesn't retaliate to the insult. “why don’t you want it?”

bucky shrugs a shoulder, “always been a better right-hand man than a leader.”

sam hums thoughtfully, looking to the shield. his fingers gently run over the edge of the metal. “you gon’ be mine?”

“someone’s gotta watch your six.”

“will you wear tights?”

“try and get me in a pair of one and that shield is gonna be shoved where the sun don’t shine, pal.”

sam chortles. then he nods over at steve, gesturing for bucky to go.

so bucky goes and sits next to the old man, stares out at the water. it doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, sitting next to him like this. 

“thank you, buck.”

bucky frowns, finally looking at him. steve’s eyes never changed and they’re staring right into his own. 

“for everything.” steve says simply. “and what you said— about her bein’ my north star? I think you were right.”

of course he was. bucky knows, has always known, because he’s got his own. 

his own north star.

so bucky smiles at him, moves closer and pulls steve into a hug. not too tight because he can’t handle it (anymore). his bones are old and weak (just like before). 

and I like to think that bucky bites his tongue from the one last thing he wants to say to steve. I like to think that as he’s holding his best friend—his frail and old and greying best friend—he closes his eyes, and breathes and he doesn’t say I love you like how he so badly wants to. 

it doesn’t matter anyway. it wouldn't make a difference. 

steve’s lived a life. now’s bucky’s turn.

[sgtbbvrnes]

my heart is aching 

my insides hurt

this is what heartbreak feels like

i know

i’ve felt it enough times before

and god— isn’t it sad? 

to have felt heartbreak so fucking often that i’ve found a way to describe it

(just one. because there are so many different types of heartbreak, there are so many ways to describe it, there is so much pain.)

it’s the aching in your chest, a physical fucking ache, even though it’s all based on emotions,

it’s the twist in your gut as you read something that just shatters every single fucking atom in your body,

it’s the way your eyes start to water even as you tell yourself “don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, it’s not worth it, this isn’t worth your tears, don’t cry, don’t fucking cry” over and over like a fucking mantra,

it’s the way you bite your tongue to choke back sobs and hopeless noises that you think would make you seem weak but they escape anyway,

it’s the way you wish you could turn back time just to stop yourself so you’d never have to feel this goddamn pain in the future (right now),

it’s the way you need to need to get it out but you don’t want to tell anyone because you think you’d bother them or you’d sound stupid and like a naïve child who should've known better since the start.

i think the worst part is that i knew this was inevitable. 

i knew it was coming

and i want to regret it

i want to regret every single second since i met you

i want to not want you

but i can’t.

i don’t regret any of it. it has been a privilege loving you, even if you were never mine to love. 

i know what heartbreak feels like. i just. 

i wished and prayed and hoped to every god who would listen that i would never have to experience it from you.

i guess no one listened. 

[sgtbbvrnes]

not about dat matt x karen ship man ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[sgtbbvrnes]

Holy mother of all things good like, your writings are so damn good. I've read all of them and you write Bucky to absolute perfection I swear. You might wanna change your bio cuz you are anything but a shitty writer. In fact, you're one of the best writers I've ever come across. Keep writing, you amazing person!

ahhh thanks my dude :’) but I’ve also got like the worst writer’s block ever and tbh I don’t even know if I’ll post a thing (like ever again) but I rly do appreciate your kind words :^) x

[sgtbbvrnes]

I just came across Morning Tide and i have an overload of feels

[sgtbbvrnes]

ok hey i'm. that bucky x male reader insert you wrote, i think it was called the thing is?? holy cow. i can never find male reader inserts and when i do they make me so dysphoric bc the way they're written but. it was perfect. thank you ,, is it weird to thank you for writing it oh well. ok Thanks for reading my ramble but like. seriously, that insert was amazing

i’m glad you liked it :’) i’ve got another one on my old blog wherein it’s a trans!male reader if you wanna read it (this one) and i know most fics are female centric and stuff even when they’re in second person but i still try to make my second person ones as gender neutral as possible so i hope you feel a lil less dysphoric reading my stuff :^)

[sgtbbvrnes]

Honestly I am literally in Just Like Icarus bc it killed me and I am dead thx lol (:

yikes ok rip u will b missed 

[sgtbbvrnes]

you always write angst and it's beautiful but it hurts. my. heart.

i thought you were gonna complain :   )

but anyway m soz for hurting your heart blame the character i seem to be v focused on (and is the name of my url)

[sgtbbvrnes]

ure still a nerd

u don’t CALL u don’t WRITE and suddenly you come and call ME a NERD??????? GO AWAY ure a nerd

[sgtbbvrnes]

This may sound weird But fucking hell I am I N L O V E with you and your writing skills and how you write and just ❤️❤️

how r u in love w me if you don’t even know my name 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

[sgtbbvrnes]

hi sorry would it be okay to add me to your permanent tags list? I've blown the last like two hours on your blog and I'm oBSESSED and it's getting late and I need to sleep but your wRITING is so goOD so yeah pls tag me k thx T_T

hello my fren,,,,,,, i’m v bad at tagging people. like i literally have a few other people who are on my ‘tag list’ except i’ve never tagged them before bc i suck so……. i’m soz i’ll probably never tag you in a thing :’) in the mean time: have some more nonsense i wrote from my old blog hehehe

[sgtbbvrnes]

"just like icarus" -- and all your other fics -- are so beautiful and poetic and wow your words are just so amazing, i want them tattooed on me

WEW that’d be a lot of tattoos your whole body would be covered w words it’d be like prison break except not a map and just fics 

[sgtbbvrnes]

I always cry when I read your stuff. It's so beautiful

m glad you like ‘em :’)

[sgtbbvrnes]

Just Like Icarus

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: “But must it always be a tragedy? Maybe suns are meant to love boys who fall into seas.” (x) Words: 1,934 Warnings: language + (v vague) mentions of blood Notes: honestly??? idk either but i’m going w it (ps: i know there’s a gender in the summary but the one shot’s a generic reader so there’s no descriptions of ((your)) gender)

It’s funny, you think. Not funny in a haha way but funny in more of a wow this is so fucked up and of course it’s happening to me sorta way. 

Everything happens like you’re in a film and it’s a scene where everything is shot in a slow motion. You see everything happen so slowly, and you think that maybe this how Pietro Maximoff feels (felt) when he runs (ran). 

You see your arms swinging by your side with the momentum as you turn towards the source of the shout of your name, and your eyes dart to where Bucky is yelling, mouth open, eyes wide and terrified and something beautiful, and he’s mid-run, and you don’t get it. 

You don’t get it until you dart your eyes to what he’s (slowly, so slowly) lifting his rifle to aim at. 

And then you’re falling and falling and falling and nothing hurts but everything hurts and your hand goes to your stomach, and it comes back stained red. Your shoulder is suddenly (still in fucking slow motion) pushed back like you’re in a crowded street and a busy dickhead businessman has shoved you, except it’s more painful and the force pushes you to the ground and your already bloodied hand goes to your shoulder, only to come back with more red. 

You blink at your hand, and suddenly everything is back in real time.

You land on the ground, your head nearly cracking on the pavement and it hurts—fuck, it hurts like hell—but your stomach hurts, too, as does your shoulder and your arm and your entire goddamn body. 

You think you hear someone saying “no, no, no” over and over again and the fucking ridiculous part of your brain goes “stick to the stuff you know”. You think you manage to cough out a laugh—there’s liquid that comes out of your mouth and you just know that it isn’t saliva—and then the owner of the voice comes into view.

But the face hovering over you doesn’t look even a quarter as amused as you feel. It makes sense, really, considering how Bucky’s eyes are now glassy and greener than you think you’ve ever seen them and he looks devastated as his eyes run across your face then the rest of your body. 

“Hey, hey, Y/N, stay with me, will you?” His voice is gruff and cracks halfway through and it somehow still warms you up from your head to your toes. 

You open your mouth to say something, to say anything, but no words come out. Everything hurts. You want to tell it to him, but a part of you knows that it wouldn’t make a difference. You can feel yourself losing too much blood. 

Everything hurts and your eyelids are so heavy and the world is spinning and you’re looking at the most beautiful person that the Earth has been blessed with. 

Sometimes you forget that he’s human, too, and he’s not a God, and he bleeds, too. 

Case in point: there is a trickle of blood down the side of his face from a gash on his forehead and he seems unbothered by it, even though it looks like it hurts. He’s more focused on pressing on your stomach, and you’re too weak to even fight back and whine that he’s making it hurt even more, so you just let him. 

He’s fussing and his brows are furrowed and he’s sweaty and bloody and he looks right at you and—

Bucky Barnes is so fucking beautiful. 

You’re taken off guard for the millionth time, just like you always are whenever you see him. 

You’d met him when he was naught but a shell of a person. Eventually, you became friends. And—though you’d told yourself not to—eventually, you fell in love with him.

But he didn’t need that. 

He needed a friend, and he confided in you the things that he wouldn’t tell anyone else, and he trusted you, and he didn’t need to lose you just because you were too stupid to realise that you were falling and falling and falling until you’d dug yourself into a hole so deep that you could barely see the sunlight anymore.

(You didn’t want to see the sunlight anymore. It didn’t matter, not when you’ve got Bucky Barnes looking back at you like you’re more than you actually are, despite knowing that he’d never feel the same way. He’s better than sunlight. He burns brighter than the sun.)

“We’re gonna—” he starts, clearing his throat. “—gonna get you out of here, okay. Gonna get you help. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” Bucky’s saying, but it’s more like he’s muttering it to himself, reassuring himself, than to you. 

Bucky makes a move to lift you off the ground, bridal style, and the sudden jolt of movement has you crying out before you can bite your tongue. Tears leak out of the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming surge of pain and within half a second, you’re back on the ground. 

One of your arms is still around his neck and his arms are still cradling you, and he’s closer than before and curiously, you realise that he still smells the same. He smells like gunpowder and blood and metal and oil, but underneath that: like aftershave and pinewood and apple shampoo. 

It’s what you think sunshine would smell like.

Maybe that’s why Icarus flew too close to the sun. The sun was too enticing and beautiful and he couldn’t not look away and fly further away from it so he went towards it instead and— 

Maybe that’s why Icarus fell into the ocean. 

Because he fell in love with the sun and couldn’t bear to be away from it so he flew closer and closer till his wings melted and he fell the whole way down with a smile on his face because he finally got to be close to the sun.

“Y/N, I know it hurts but—” his voice is soft and cracks halfway through again. His eyes are desperate, more than you’ve ever seen, as he looks at you. “We need to get you out of here. We need to get you to help, so that you can— you can get better. Yeah? And we’ll be back to watching crappy horror movies in no time. Hell— we’ll have a marathon. We deserve it, don’t we?”

He’s rambling. Bucky never rambles. 

You smile. Or at least— you try to. 

“Okay?” He asks, and you know he’s about to lift you again and you really don’t want that because it hurts. 

So you shake your head as best as you can, mouthing a no and it’s got him halting his movement as he stares back at you with wide eyes. “Please.”

There are several things you could say. You could tell him to just leave you because you know this is it, or you could try and get him back to the team because they need him, they’ve always needed him and will always need him, and that he’s wasting his time with you right now.

Except, all that comes out is— “I’m in love with you.”

“... Why?”

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry at that. You know that he thinks so lowly of himself that he doesn’t even deserve any semblance of love. You’ve seen it in the way that he’ll shy away from Steve’s touch and gaze, because one glance at the Captain can tell you that he loves Bucky so deeply and fiercely and will give up anything—everything—for the latter. You’ve heard it in the way he talks about himself, about the things he’s done, and how much he thinks he isn’t worth anything remotely good.

So when you hear his question, you’re... silent. You know he’ll deny everything you want to tell him. 

So you don’t tell him that he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. You don’t tell him that you see stars in his eyes. You don’t tell him that when he smiles, you’re almost always taken aback because of how fucking beautiful he is and you’ve never known that a human being could be so beautiful. 

You don’t tell him that when you’re together, just like now when you’re in the middle of a goddamn war zone with gunfire and lasers and all sorts of other nonsense around you, you still feel like nothing can hurt you. It’s like you’re untouchable, when you’re with him.

(Ironic— considering the circumstance.)

You don’t tell him that he’s so kind and selfless and your heart swells with pride just at the fact that he hasn’t let that hate and pain change him. His heart is still soft and you admire it.

You don’t tell him that you never knew what poets meant when they drawled on and on about how a person’s heart could be made of gold and their souls could be filled with pure light and how someone could make flowers grow in one’s lungs. Not until you met him. 

You don’t tell him that no matter how broken and battered and bruised he thought (thinks) himself to be, you didn’t fall in love with him. You took a jump off of a thirty foot tall cliff and you’ve been loving every moment of being in love with him, no matter how much you knew that he’d never feel the same way. 

Instead, you lift your hand. It takes so much effort but you manage it, and you trail a finger down the side of his face, just a millimetre away from the trail of blood running down his cheek. 

“I just am.”

And this time, you manage to smile. 

Bucky chokes out a laugh. He’s smiling but his eyes look like stained glass and he’s suddenly gasping for breath as he tries to hold you closer. You’re in his lap now and he’s holding you, and he’s rocking himself slightly like he can’t stay still and you feel a tear slip down the corner of your eye and he’s clutching you even closer. 

“Please, please, don’t leave me, not now, please, just— I need to get you out of here. I can get you out of here. We can get help. You can be okay again and we’ll— we’ll be okay. Please, please, please,” it’s like he’s saying a prayer but you don’t know what he’s pleading for and you’re far too tired to ask. 

“I— I love you. I love you. Please.”

And you think you should be happy that he does. Love you. 

But it’s tragic. It was always meant to be tragic. It’s like all those poets said: love is beautiful but tragic. 

You smile. A weak and pathetic one that has you coughing out (blood) again. You turn your head to the side a little, and you kiss his arm, pushing your forehead onto the metal plates as you finally let your eyes fall shut.

“You shouldn’t,” you whisper, and you don’t think he hears you.

But then you think you hear him let out something of a choked sob, but you can’t be sure. Everything suddenly doesn’t seem real and nothing seems to hurt anymore. 

(You think of Icarus and you realise: you’re no fucking better. You flew too close to the sun. You fell in love with the sun.)

(The sun loved you back.)

(So who’s to say that Apollo didn’t love Icarus back, too, just like how Bucky loved ((loves)) you?) 

[sgtbbvrnes]

Supernova??? How about super no thanks why you gotta do that to me

idk it’s a hobby