#bucky tag game

[subwaysurf45]

Helloooo!! Meg from @espinosaurusrexex here and I just gotta know what “Bucky Barnes The Feminist” is about 😃

I honestly love your writing so much. It’s so comforting in a way I cannot explain 💓 I’m so excited you’re participating in the tag game! 🥰

Hey shorty, thanks for the ask!

Bucky the Feminist is actually a little angsty as it deals with Bucky's time trying to understand the reader's past when it comes to intimacy, as well as little quirks the reader has picked up during their last realtionships.

Also, I've added a warning to nosebleeds which isn't for what you think it's about!

Here's a snipet:

In his junior year of high school he was in a co-ed gym class and thought nothing of it, he actually knew one the girls was college bound for her impressive track and field personal bests. He respected them like anyone else, he’d always find himself on their team because the five of them needed others to fill a full roster for their full-field soccer game. The other fifteen boys took turns being on the girl’s team, never once inviting them over; that is, until they saw one of the girls was actually really good, then they wanted to play with her.

On the last day of school Madea, the one who was as fast as Usain Bolt, came up to him and gave him a hug. Bucky almost lost his graduation cap as she squeezed him.

“Thank you,” she said, “you’re one of the good ones Barnes. You passed the ball, you cheered us on, you stood up for us when we asked- and only when we asked -and you just-…” she sighed and shrugged, “if you have a girlfriend in college, she’ll be really lucky to have you.”

“Thanks?” Bucky said as he held his diploma, he didn’t see the big deal. That conversation was forgotten soon as his sisters jumped on his back and stole his cap.

If you'd like to see what else I've got cooking in my WIP folder, take a look over here and ask for more info based on the titles!

[spectrecowboy]

I'd like to think sometime after getting his autonomy back Bucky got to read the Lord of The Rings

[underratedgrapeju1ce]

always the protector

[meyerlansky]

#hboww2rewatch timestamp roulette: MASTERS OF THE AIR, PART TWO ↳ rank has its privileges, boys.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Making a new tag game because I wanted to

Next fic mood board tag game!

I need some motivation to finish editing my next fic so here's a mini moodboard!

Let's see your "next fic" moodboards!

Tagging: @late-to-the-party-81 @buckys-wintersoldier @little-miss-dilf-lover @daycourtofficial

[heretoobsessstuff]

Last line tag

Ahhhhh im so happy u tagged me @valstarsandgalaxies thank u so muchhhh ��🫶🏻

Here’s a little piece of the “babe can I call?” WIP i wrote recently (a 5+1 fic, 5 times John call Gale in the middle of the night and one time Gale does instead!)

“Gale,” he breathes, relief flooding him at the sound of that familiar voice. He hears Gale shuffle before he speaks again.

“John? Is that you?”

John took a shaky breath, trying to drown in that voice, willing it to pull the fear from his body. His hand shook as he gripped the phone like a lifeline.

“Are you drunk again?” Gale sighed, his voice heavy with sleep. John felt floaty, dread sitting at the pit of his stomach as he tried to calm his breathing. He felt desperate to make sure Gale is okay. That he’s alive. That he’s still here. He jumped to answer.

“No—not drunk. Gale, I—”

“John? What’s the matter? Where are you?” Gale interrupts, urgency threading through his words.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Nothing. I’m home. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have called.”

“Are you okay? You’re kinda freakin’ me out right now.”

Gale sounded concerned—panicked, even, his voice rising in pitch. John took another deep breath, fighting to steady himself.

“I just-just need to hear your voice.”

His eyes burnt with tears, so he closed them, feeling the weight of the night press down on him.

“Did something happen?” Gale’s worry is palpable, and John shook his head even though Gale couldn’t see him, exhaling deeply as the lump in his throat threatened to choke him.

“No. Just wanted to know-needed to know you’re there.” The words were finally out and he felt his stomach clench with anxiety. As if he was expecting Gale to say he wasn’t okay and that he was dead and that these past months of leaving England and flying back home were all a dream. That Bucky was still in Stalag, without Gale, counting the days until something happened and ridded him of this misery-

“I’m here, John,” Gale says softly, voice gentle, cutting through the chaos like a knife.

“You’re okay,” John says shakily.

“Yeah, I’m all in one piece.” A pause. “As okay as I ever was, Bucky.”

Ahhhhh this is going slow but im rlly excited to share snippets 🤭 absolutely no pressure tagging @amiserableseriesofevents @happy-days19 @onyxsboxes @joeyalohadream i’m rlly sorry if you’ve done it already ❤️❤️

[navybrat817]

WIP Poll Game!

Rules: Make a 24 hour poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on. (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count.) Whichever WIP title gets the most votes, write 1 sentence for every vote received.

Thanks to @vintagebuckybarnes and @theinheriteddutchess for the tags! I have quite a few WIPs, so I provided some options and you lovelies are welcome to ask about them.

NPT: @targaryenvampireslayer @jobean12-blog @astheskycries @ghotifishreads @holylulusworld @romanarose @foxgloveprincess @sergeantbarnessdoll @jen-with-a-pen @reveluving and anyone seeing this who wants to play! ❤️

[a-physical-avatar-of-scribbles]

this one goes out to me taking so long in layer 3 that all the starlings just. Left. like they all just disappeared. i was still paranoid the whole time but it made it easier i guess??

[daniel-bruehl]

WALTER SULLIVAN Silent Hill 4: The Room (2004)

[stars-remain2]

Last Lines

Chapter 4 Preview - I Won’t Go Where You Can’t Follow

9 Months Before the March to Moosburg, Stalag Luft III

Bucky had two favorite pastimes in the Stalag: playing imaginary Major League Baseball games alone and staring at the barbed wire fence that cut him off from the outside world and freedom. He was doing both simultaneously now, eyeing up the guards, the fence and the watchtower all while winding up his imaginary pitch. It was the top of the ninth, the score was tied and the bases were loaded with two outs. The stakes couldn’t have been higher and all eyes were on him.

He felt it first – the piercing blue-eyed gaze of his best friend Gale Cleven – before he turned around to meet that gaze head on.

Bucky had left the earth in a B-17 and then subsequently plummeted back down avenging Gale’s death. Bucky wasn’t even slated to be on the Munster mission but he’d begged Chick Harding to put him in the lineup. Bucky had been living it up and getting drunk while his best friend literally crashed and burned. The guilt over Gale’s loss had destroyed him and he felt that it wouldn’t have had happened if he’d just been there at Thorpe Abbotts – at the very least to say goodbye.

Whatever sentimentality and softness he’d had towards his best friend back then was erased the moment he was shot down and captured. Instead, he found himself harboring an unspoken animosity and sense of blame towards Gale that Gale didn’t even know about. It soon became a festering wound that he could never reveal to another soul: it was Gale’s fault that he was here in Stalag Luft III.

In the eight months since his capture and subsequent captivity, something had broken inside of Bucky. Where some, like Gale and Colonel Alkire rose from the ashes to be the leaders the men needed, others like Bucky floundered. In this very moment, Bucky was floundering. He was a man disappearing beneath the waves with no life raft in sight. Gale had no way of knowing that he was walking right into a tent of TNT and he was the lit match.

Gale broke the silence first, “You okay, Major?”

He always had a way of sneaking in a reference to Bucky’s rank, as if to remind him that he still had a job to do here. That the men needed him to lead. That Gale needed him to lead. It made John want to laugh. He couldn’t even lead a horse to water right now.

“Just askin’,” Gale said tentatively, as if he was afraid of what John’s answer might be. Everyone seemed to be walking on eggshells around him, but he never thought he’d see the day that Gale did too.

Gale had made sure to position himself in front of Bucky so that his body was physically between Bucky and that damned fence like he couldn’t still see it. Like he wasn’t living in a damn cage. Being a prisoner of war had changed something inside him and he knew there was very little of him left that would be worth knowing, if he were to survive the war at all. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to anyway.

“Am I okay? You really askin’ me that, Major?,” Bucky huffs, gesturing wildly at his surroundings, helpless to stop the tumble of words falling from his mouth. “You know what, Cleven?”

Gale stiffened at the use of his last name but Bucky didn’t even notice, continuing on without even taking a breath.

“No I’m not okay, I’m not okay because I’m stuck in here. And whose fault is that, Buck?” Bucky continues, looking anywhere but at Gale’s crestfallen face. “Not mine…no…yours. I wasn’t even supposed to be on that Munster mission, but nooo, I had to go chasin’ after you with some crackpot idea of revenge, some sense of loyalty to you and for WHAT? NOTHING. Because here you were the whole time, alive, reading your little poetry books and teaching Calculus like some fuckin’ Stalag professor. So you know what, Cleven, NO I AM NOT OKAY!”

His voice rose to a shout and then the silence that followed between them was palpable. If there was one thing about Buck and Bucky, it was that their silences were always comfortable.

Not this one.

Bucky sucked his breath in through his teeth, unsure how the words, his forbidden thoughts, had actually exited through his mouth this time. He began to panic as his palms started to sweat and his cheeks reddened. He could feel his heart beginning to pound in his chest, his body prepping him for a flight or fight response. He ached once again to just fling himself at the fence.

He knew he shouldn’t do it, but he brought his head up anyway and looked at Buck, ready to survey the damage he’d done. Seeing the moment the light actually dimmed in Gale Cleven’s eyes took his breath away, knowing he was the reason why.

—

Why am I like this??? I promise this story will have the most happy AND soft ending for the Buckies but well…pain til we get there. Part 4 is complete and coming soon on AO3. Maybe tomorrow? ❤️

Thanks again to @steviewicks45 for the amazing beta help!! She’s been my rock and cheerleader through this and has the best suggestions and ideas. So thankful for you boo! 🥰

[hogans-heroes]

Last line tag

Tagged by @swifty-fox who has me by the throat with all their fics rn, but especially frog au 😭. Have a bit of the mota/bikeriders crossover.

“Why the questions?” Bucky snapped, words slurred from the medications and blood loss. “You drug us in here now get the fuck out.”

Johnny leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs and wondering if lighting a desperately-needed cigarette was worth getting in trouble with the hospital staff.

“We saved your life,” he corrected, then lifted his chin toward Buck. “And probably his, too.”

Bucky swallowed, going back to staring at the ceiling, and Johnny decided there wasn’t any harm in prodding more.

“How old are ya’?” He asked, settling farther back until plastic creaked.

“Nineteen, Buck’s eighteen.” Bucky’s one bloodshot eye snapped back to Johnny, whole body tensed to give the most viscous glare his scrawny form could manage. “And just because he’s of age don’t mean you can take him.”

Johnny raised his eyebrows. “Nobody taking anybody,” he drawled. The two IDs the nurse had handed him with obviously-doctored birthdates burned a hole in his pocket—labeled John Egan and Gale Cleven—state-issued for unaccompanied minors with multiple phone numbers scratched out. Johnny didn’t mention it.

“Bullshit,” Bucky muttered, voice thick with the ignored pain that was making his limbs tremble. “You’re with them aren’t you? They’re the only ones that ever wanted him.”

The beeping of the machines hooked up to the kid’s chest and wrists sped up and Johnny clenched his jaw, fisting his hands into his jeans to resist the urge to reach out.

“Well they can’t have him no more. Or you,” he said instead, a shot in the dark that it was the right response to get through their thick heads they were safe from whoever these mobsters were. But Bucky flinched—a flash of fear, then anger, poisoning his eyes.

Wrong answer, then.

“If I wake up and he’s not here, I’m gonna kill every last one of you,” Bucky rasped, fire snarling in his eyes. “Done it before.”

Johnny nodded, dragging his gaze along the full-arm cast strapped to Bucky’s chest and bandages covering most of his face. “Dat’s fair.”

Little Buck just sat, trembling in every limb and eyes darting around like Benny used to do before he realized Johnny wouldn’t take a knife to him, wouldn’t scream at him or drive him out of the house.

Tagging @the-ghost-of-jason-todd @skyyguy @happy-days19 @avonne-writes @middlingmay

[underratedgrapeju1ce]

can anybody hear me when i'm hidden underground?

can anybody hear me am i talking to myself?

[luckydeuce]

last line(s) / WIP tag

Warning: I'm exhausted and busy with work (sob) and so, so under the weather it's just a massive shit show. And I've been struggling to write but some wonderful, wonderful souls tagged me recently (I'm talking about you @happy-days19 and @soliloquy-dawn and @onyxsboxes and @weimarweekly and @reallylilyreally and @amiserableseriesofevents) and I swear I didn't ignore it!!!

This is collective for @london-cowboy and this account because there's more than 1 me. Here we go.

John takes a small sip of his whiskey. It isn’t Macallan. It must be The Dalmore, the 18-Year-Old, or something similar: deep and spicy—burnt black coffee and marmalade. It’s wonderful. But it’s also— “Not what I wanted, Buck.” Buck has been just raising his glass to his lips. He stops, mid-gesture. “Pardon?” Oh, pardon my ass, frat boy, thinks John. This is perfect, fucking perfect. A wonderful opportunity to start. He hates that it is happening. “They didn’t have Macallan?” Buck looks confused, eyes darting between John’s lips and the £400-a-bottle liquid in John’s glass. “They did, but—” The thing is, John knows. He knows they did, just as he knows Buck was trying to impress him. Win him, please him. In any other circumstances, it would have worked, nice and simple. But nice and simple isn’t really what Buck wants from John.   “Then bring me what I wanted,” John says. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile; equally, he doesn’t frown. “Please.”

Tagging @stereobone , @whirlpool-blogs , @feyd-meowtha and @wayrad , only if you'd like to (but adding a Dom John Egan kind of please).

[avonne-writes]

Rules: show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.

Thank you for the tag @counting0nit and @joeyalohadream 💕

“Gonna put a baby in you.” Bucky pants. “My baby. Oh fuck.”

Yeah, umm... Smut FicTM is still in progress.

Not sure who hasn't been tagged yet, but I'll tag @onyxsboxes @nicijones and @hogans-heroes (not really following the rule but 🤷‍♀️)

[heretoobsessstuff]

Seven(ish) Sentence Sunday

thank u sm for the tag @joeyalohadream pls pretend i'm posting this on sunday 🤫

Here's a few lines from a lil fic I'm working on which is currently untitled

John chuckled softly, nudging Gale’s shoulder lightly with his own. 

“Or”—he dragged out the word, just to be a menace—“you try to be all tough, but you’ve got a soft spot for me. Just admit it, Buck.” His grin widened, his voice light and teasing.

For a moment, there was no response, only the soft rhythm of Gale’s breathing. Then his voice cut through the teasing, low and startlingly serious, like he was making a confession.

“I do,” he said, tone unwavering. “I do have a soft spot for you, John. I really do.”

The words hit John in the chest and sank into his heart, making it race. It was as if Gale had reached out and laid bare something raw inside him. He felt strangely choked up as he pulled Gale in a little closer, his hands soft against the warmth of Gale’s skin.

“Yeah?” John asked, his voice muffled by Gale's hair. “You really do?”

Gale’s head nodded against John’s chest, but he didn’t say anything more

it's literally monday but i will tag @alienoresimagines @happy-days19 @amiserableseriesofevents @trekkiehood @majorbuckyeganbc bc i have no shame 😭 whenever u wanted to do it absolutely no pressure ofc ❤️

[navybrat817]

WIP Wednesday

Because why not, lovelies? From my upcoming one-shot, Chokehold.

*****

The Sergeant stood against the wall with his arms crossed as you stretched, one foot pressed against it as his eyes slid over to you. Quickly averting your gaze, you tried to concentrate on warming up instead of how good he looked in his workout gear. While his sweatpants hung low on his hips, the dark short sleeved shirt clung to him like a second skin. He had his hair pulled back, too, which only enhanced how bright his eyes looked under the gym lights.

You refused to get aroused just from looking at him.

Too. Fucking. Late.

*****

NPT: @caplanbuckybarnes @cocoamoonmalfoy @xoxoviva @eulalielatibule @hansensgirl @ellethespaceunicorn @krirebr @astheskycries @paperweight91 @ghotifishreads @bucks-babe @flowersforbucky and anyone else seeing this who wants to play! ❤️