#curt henning

[84reedsy]

[razor-ramons-thighs]

[blowflyfag]

WRESTLING SCENE Presents RINGSIDE : November 1983

[harmonysanreads]

The notion of being shared between Yandere!Jiaoqiu and Yandere!Moze paints an image so... stifling in my head.

On one hand, you have Jiaoqiu who insists on playing mother hen — except that it really is the way he shows that he cares for and adores you. From your meals to unimportant tidbits you collect at the end of each day, Jiaoqiu has to know it all. Until, merely ‘knowing’ fails to satisfy his agitation and he deems keeping you under direct observation is best (for his nerves).

Truthfully, the Foxian enjoys taking care of you. He loves it more when you thank him so sweetly, admitting his expertise in the field. Those scrapes of validation you bestow upon him is the fuel that keeps the cogs of his existence running. He's aware that he shouldn't rely too much on external validation, but you're the person he loves, dammit. Your opinion, your appreciation, your love matters to him ; not the ones of other irrelevant people. And does he not deserve the sentiment when he goes through such extreme lengths for you? Would you really be so cruel as to deny him the bare minimum?

Then, we have Moze. Reserved, curt and almost detached. He doesn't have the same amount of time and energy as Jiaoqiu to coddle you all day, which is why he takes care of the dirty work. Even when he does have the time to sit down beside you, he's... awkward. Moze doesn't know how to be gentle, his skill lies in precision and brutality. If he's constantly plagued by the worry of crushing the flower, he'd rather not hold it at all. Hugs with him are stiff and suffocating, his hands unable to stay still — granted that he's courageous enough to initiate it at all, that is.

Your one leeway through his irritating silence is that his face usually provides subtitles for the language of his thoughts. Still, it requires some observation and testing to see if they can be trusted. What can't be trusted though, is Moze's mood that vacillates between extremities. Moze isn't sure whether he really likes you or that he hates you so much he loves you. Beneath his steely exterior, he constantly battles with the urges to tear you apart or to worship you.

Confinement is an easy consensus for these two, both of their agendas don't align with letting you roam free. The assassin's schedule is too sporadic to supervise you all the time and Jiaoqiu's nerves too frenzied to allow you to prance around among potential dangers. It's best for everyone that you stay in one place both of them know is safe, a little drop of one of Jiaoqiu's concoctions is enough to make sure you won't stray.

Jiaoqiu and Moze are almost two extremes, it's a wonder how they can cooperate seamlessly when they should be at the far ends of a spectrum. But despite all odds, they can work it out, which is bad news for you.

[random-thot-generator]

Reverse Trope Prompt: (see end notes after reading. No peeking!)

Full list here

Ghost x reader

sfw -bit of angst, profanity, a frisky drunk bird but nothing explicit

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

"Looks like LT's pulled 'imself another winner."

Gaz glances over his shoulder, sniffs, then turns back with a cynical curl to his lip. Lifting his pint glass, he slants a knowing look at his fellow sergeant. "He's lost the bloody plot, if ya ask me. Hooks up with every bird he gets his hands on, now." He shakes his head. "'S bloody mental, mate. What the hell is he thinkin'?"

Soap grunts, mouth twisting in disgust as he focuses on his lieutenant and the cackling drunk bird splayed across his lap. "Canna say. Dinnae ken wha's gotten into 'im. Feckin' mad, lettin' a bonnie, good lass go t'chase after sloppy-drunk tarts like tha' one."

"You lads ready for another round?"

Both men flinch at the sound of your voice and glance up at you with guilty expressions. They know you had to have heard what they were saying. Gaz drops his gaze as he nods and pushes his glass across the bar, while Soap tilts his head to study you. You meet his searching blue eyes while you refill Gaz's pint, knowing what's coming. You breathe out a tired sigh.

"What's the matter, Johnny?"

His brows pinch together in a perturbed frown. "Does it no' bother yeh, 'im flauntin' those mingin' slags right in yer face?"

"Jesus, Soap!" Gaz hisses, elbowing him. "Shut ya bloody gob." He then turns his attention back to you, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, luv. He's got no filter when he drinks too much."

"Oi! I dinnae need yeh t'make excuses fer meh," Soap fusses, still scowling when he looks back to you. "'M sorry, hen. Dinnae mean t'upset yeh. Jus' think it's no' right, 'im scrapin' yeh off the way 'e did, then comin' in 'ere where yeh work, messin' about with other birds, like 'e does. 'S disrespectful."

Your eyes drift to Ghost, grimacing at the way the woman in his lap is pawing at him, before dropping your eyes to glare at the bar top. "It doesn't matter," you mutter, wiping down the bar with more force than is necessary. "We're over, so he can do what he wants with whoever he wants. I think him breaking things off between us was probably for the best, don't you?"

The two sergeants exchange a look.

Soap huffs and slumps on his bar stool, mumbling into his pint, "Yeh're too good fer 'im, anyway." He knocks the last of his stout back with an angry sneer.

Gaz nods in agreement, his eyes sympathetic when he adds, "Ya can do better, luv. Deserve someone who'll treat ya right."

You try to smile, but it's fake, brittle. "Seriously, it's alright. I'm over it. Really."

You can tell that neither of them believes you.

Your call for last orders goes out a few minutes later, and the few customers left in the pub begin to drift towards the door. Gaz and Soap are settling up their tabs when Ghost steps up behind them, the giggling drunk bird tucked under his arm. His dark eyes slide over you, like you're not even there.

"'M headin' out, lads. I'll see the two'uh ya back at base. Gonna take 'er 'ome," he tells the sergeants, nodding down at the bleary-eyed bird glued to his side.

Gaz give a curt nod, avoiding eye contact. Soap makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. "Aye. Jus' keep rubbin' 'er nose in it," he mutters, then sniffs, shaking his head. "Steamin' Jaysus."

Ghost tenses, eyes narrowing over his face mask. "Ya gotta problem, sergeant?"

Just as Soap's mouth opens to reply, you clear your throat, breaking the tense moment. "How 'bout a bag of crisps to soak up all that alcohol, Johnny? My treat."

His head swivels around to look at you, the scowl slowly melting off his face when he sees your worried expression. He blows out a breath. "Aye. Thanks, bon." He side-eyes Ghost, then looks away. "See ya later, LT," he mumbles.

The drunk bird makes a whining noise, tugging at Ghost's jacket. "C'mon, luv. Leh's gooo. 'M ready t'get home." She then gives him a drunken, lewd grin, pressing up against him. "Ya can help me get these tights off, yeah?" she whispers to him, waggling her eyebrows.

Ghost grunts a laugh, seemingly amused. "Cheeky muppet. Olright. Let's get outta here."

You busy yourself with wiping down the bar as Ghost leads the tottering woman out the door, then toss your towel down once he's gone. Snagging two bags of crisps for the sergeants, you hand one to each of them.

"Here ya go," you murmur. "Need me to call a taxi for ya?"

"No thanks, luv," Gaz replies softly, sliding off his stool. "I already ordered us an Uber. Let's go, Soap."

Soap stands, his crisps clutched in his hand. He's scowling, shaking his head. "'E's a bloody eejit," he mutters.

You finally wave goodbye to the two sergeants, locking up behind them once you usher them out the door. Blowing out a tired breath, you lean back against it and stare down at your trainers.

"God, I'm glad this night is over," you mumble to yourself, then heave another sigh before heading back to the bar, ready to close up for the night and get out of there.

The drive home is short, just a couple blocks away, but it still gives you too much time to think. This is by far the worst break-up you've ever been through. None of your work mates or friends can seem to go a day without mentioning it. Even worse, Simon's mates won't let it go, either.

You appreciate their support, but seriously wish that Soap and Gaz would stop bringing Simon up, altogether. It's hard enough watching the big lug flirting with birds right under your nose. You don't need Soap pointing it out to you, or Gaz giving you those sad, pitying looks all night.

You try to shake off your negative thoughts as you park and walk to your flat. It's sweet that the lads are trying to be there for you, but you hope that they'll just let it go soon. Maybe you should just tell them you're seeing someone else. It might help put their minds at ease, get them to back off a little bit.

Once inside your flat, you toe off your trainers and turn on the lights, then pad into the kitchen. Putting some leftovers in the microwave, you shuffle off to take a quick shower while it's heating, hoping the hot water will soothe away some of your stress.

As you're toweling off, you hear your front door open and then close. Hurrying to get dressed, you open the bathroom door, the smell of yesterday's shepherd's pie hitting your nose. You hear the clatter of plates and utensils coming from the kitchen as you pace down the short hallway and peek around the corner. You stop when you reach the doorway, leaning your shoulder against the jamb and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Took you awhile to get here. Thought you might've decided to stay the night with that bird, after all."

Simon sets the leftover shepherd's pie he just took out of the microwave on the table, smirking. Tossing down the potholders, he comes to you, his big arms wrapping around your body to pull you close before his head dips to give you a kiss.

"Took forever t'get 'er outta the bloody truck an' into 'er flat. 'Ad t'fight 'er off'uh me the whole way there, too, the handsy git." He rumbles out a low chuckle. "She was right pissed when I left without helpin' 'er outta those tights."

You huff, cutting him a snarky look. "Yeah, I bet." You frown, sliding your hands down his chest. "I wish we didn't have to do this, Si. I don't like seeing other women all over my man, and I hate lying to everyone, especially Johnny and Kyle."

He sighs, lifting a hand to cradle your face. "I know, sweet'art, but it won't be f'much longer. Cap says Nik's almost got all of our documents an' passports in order. When it's time, we'll loop Gaz an' Johnny in. My next mission out, Ghost will be reported KIA, an' once he's laid t'rest, it'll finally be over. No more sneakin' around, no more lyin'. We'll 'ave new identities, a new life." He hugs you tighter. "An' I can finally provide my missus wiff a proper 'ome."

"Si..."

His eyes go lazy and warm as he slides his hand down to cover your belly. "Gotta 'ave a proper 'ome, love. 'S why we're doin' this. Wanna be free an' clear a'fore the li'l nipper gets 'ere. Yeah?"

You gaze up into your husband's eyes, a hopeful smile spreading across your face. You plant a kiss on his smirking lips and nod.

"Yeah."

-

End notes - *shrugs* I didn't want to spoil the ending. 😉

reverse trope: Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

[mazzystar24]

I hope I can ask you this because I don't want to ask in the tags, I'm scared 🥹 but I've seen a lot of discourse about why tommy isn't good for buck, he's cold, the relationship is toxic etc and I was wondering why people think that? Is there anything specific that started it?

I fully believe eddie is buck's true love, endgame, whatever we want to call it and I'm sad we don't have that (yet) but I thought bucktommy was kinda fun in the meantime. I just want to understand 🫶🏻

Oh hey darling! you were so sweet and genuine in your response so please know I’m just answering what I’m asked and if you wanna enjoy and have fun with bt that is completely your prerogative but I’m just offering my perspective on it

And i am warning you this is gonna be long because I feel a constant need to go really in depth in my thoughts

Okay so idk how I’m gonna break this down but maybe I’ll do it in like main points?

Also if you’re new here whenever I use bullet points I’m just doing it cos I find it easier to chunk up my thoughts not cos I’m being curt or anything with you

1. The chimney and hen begins episodes

He wasnt just passive in the episodes and letting Gerard get away with his racist and misogynistic behaviour he ACTIVELY participated in it

This includes:

• Asking if they forgot to tip the delivery guy WHILE THEY WERE EATING CHINESE FOOD when chimney first comes up despite the fact that 1. Chimney had a big ass lafd bag 2. They were probably already told a probie would be coming 3. Probably would’ve seen the actual delivery guy 4. I would bet my absolute life that question would not have been asked if buck or bobby had walked up those stairs this wasn’t an innocent comment it WAS RACIST intentionally like the entire point of the episode was to show how bad they had it

• the New York bitchiness comment

• throwing his tools down along for hen to clean up

• going out of his way to treat them like outcasts and hating chimney before he even knew him despite chimneys efforts

• the way each of them had to “earn his respect” in some way before he acted like a normal coworker to them and this was never in the typical ‘oh it’s a new person’ type of way it always had to do with their race or in hen’s case her gender too

A defence I see a lot for this is “oh he was closeted” and honestly to me that is such bullshit because 1. Eli was perfectly capable of not participating in the racism and taking chimney under his wing without getting any shit for it and chimney is quite literally a Korean man (something he literally can’t hide) and he had just got his head above water with Gerard’s racism when hen came and he STILL was a friend to her 2. Again tommy wasn’t passive in it and just letting Gerrard be racist (which would’ve been one thing) no he actively participated in it to be part of the boys club 3. Let’s say that somehow not being a dick would’ve meant that that was a threat to the closet he was in- that is still in my opinion a fucked up sense of preservation if you spare yourself the possibility of bigotry (despite having inherent social capital by being a white man in that job) by inflicting others to bigotry

Now when Tommy was first reintroduced I was like keeping an open mind and saying okay it’s been a lot of time and maybe he has genuinely made amends because I do believe in redemption but imo they have made no attempt to show us that and had him honestly put more of the blame on Gerrard for his behaviour or the writers flat out avoiding mentioning it to retcon tommy a little and hope we forget

Another defence I see is “oh chimney and hen became friends with him so they must’ve forgave him”, hen went no contact the moment he left (something the writers went out of their way to include that line) and chimney didn’t even invite him to his wedding which was quite big after the Buckley parents got involved so it’s not like it was cos it was such a small and intimate wedding and he only called him as far as we know in those years when he needed a favor, which all means that most likely they had kinda just put it behind them and kept up a coworker relationship with him, but no actual friendship or actual forgiveness or redemption had taken place

Oh wow all that was just point one and I can probably talk more on it but I’ll just leave it with saying that Lou’s comments about it being teasing or how Tommy genuinely didn’t know hen or chimney were capable etc just makes for a worse case than saying it’s cos of being in the closet (and that is genuinely a large part of why idk much abt Lou but those comments are enough to make me hate him) and I’ll also say that poc (myself included in that) have these situations so often- situations even as specific as gay men being racist to them to fit in - and we understand the nuance and shit to it but we also understand on a deep level how it feels to be on the other side of that

And getting toxic bt fans try to come up with ways to downplay or minimise racism honestly pisses me off so much cos believe you me we have heard every excuse and downplay under the sun and I for one am sick and tired of it

2. Why he’s viewed as cold and his jokes

• literally from the small parts we saw of him and Eddie hanging out we have seen the man is in fact capable of joking and being light and having fun but around buck in particular he’s like 🧍‍♂️😐 and the occasional 🙂 like it just feels very stiff and just plain in a way

• his humour consistently falls flat and feels passive aggressive more than anything like blunt or sardonic humour DOES work like I personally love it but it’s not being written OR executed right

A. It’s always in response to genuine moments or questions such as buck talking abt the award or the daddy kink joke or henren questioning him

B. It’s the the majority of what we see from him, there is not enough balance for it

C. Lack of rapport, when friends or couples make jokes that can come off the wrong way if said to anyone else it’s cos of the rapport built already, this rapport is not established with the characters OR with the audience for these jokes to come off right

D. I gotta say this one too but the execution just isn’t right from writing to acting, it’s the same reason sardonic humour lines from Sandra oh as Cristina Yang or hugh Laurie as house still lets you like the characters and find them funny but Tommys lines come off as annoying to a lot of people

3. I think fandom discourse probably has something to do with it but not in the way you think

I’m not saying like oh ppl who ship buddie just hate him cos of the ship no I’m saying that like what takes him from an annoying disliked character to a hated character is most likely the fact that his role stirred so much drama and caused so much damage to how the fandom used to be that its turned the dial up

4. A lot of his development, lore or redeemable factors or cute things are just not canon

This may be blunt and I am sorry for that but I think his character has been blown up to such a degree that it’s genuinely shocking

Like I look at posts or get sent hate and I’m like where did any of this happen this is just not canon this is just not a show like at times I’m genuinely convinced it’s a social experiment where different ppl saw a different show like some spiderman multiverse situation

Listen I’m all for headcanons genuinely like if you wanna take extra number three and make a whole backstory and lore and cute stuff abt her I’m all for it but it’s when it’s said as if it’s fact or canon that I’m like hold up a second rewind

I think this is kinda a result of Lou’s cameos (which honestly deserves its own post but you asked why the tommy hate so imma stay on topic) and also this like need to defend the character but not having much material to work with

Like if we look at canon we can literally break down the entirety of Tommys appearances this far in the show and what we learn about him:

• chimney begins- he makes a racist comment and he tries to suck up to Gerard, there is a little hint abt his gayness with the gf comment, Eli says to chimney that’s just how they are and tries to reason it could be fear of losing friends but we see tommy having friends in the firehouse while eli says this, chimney tries to make friends with him and tommy makes no attempt to get to know him and says he’d hate him anyways, chimney saves Tommys life thus earning his respect

• hen begins- she’s met with the same racism chimney is but also met with misogyny (and homophobia but that’s not relevant to the tommy of it all), we find out chimney is still isolated from the rest despite having earnt that respect, chimney befriends hen and again tommy still doesn’t try anything like that until hen proves herself and earns his respect, ppl reported Gerard but it’s never actually stated tommy was one of those ppl so again that’s not canon that’s speculated

• bobby begins- chimney and hen both seem to be like coworker friends with tommy and Sal, Sal throws hissy fit bobby “fires” him tommy says it’s an overreaction bobby reveals it was a transfer, they all seem to make nice, tommy leaves to 217

• chimney calls tommy for help and tommy helps

• we see nothing from tommy,then cruise ship he helps the team but also in this we find out hen cut off all contact since he left

• buck takes tour of harbour, Eddie and tommy have a friendship and we find out some of Tommys interests and that he was in the army, basketball scene and the subsequent apology and kiss

• dinner date, Tommy explains how he was in the closet, Buck has his little awkward moment (which will be elaborated on in my next point) , Tommy says nothing abt it till the Uber arrives and he leaves buck

• buck reaches out and apologises and asks for a second chance inviting tommy to the madney wedding

• bachelor party and the issue of the lack of costume and not just taking the day off for neither wedding nor bachelor party (which you can reason is reasonable but also I feel like this deserves its point for the narrative choices)

• tommy shows up straight outta work they kiss buck has the soot coming out award ceremony - buck being happy abt the reward to which tommy sardonically says enjoy it while it lasts enter bigoted cunt gerard then chimney comes and insults gerard and they walk away

• we don’t see tommy again till the dinner date after Bobby nearly died and when buck tries to explain Bobbys significance to his life tommy throws the your dad is still alive which is just honestly one of his worst moments imo and I made a whole post abt it but can’t find it and then we all know the rest of that convo and I could make a bullet point for it but actually I made a whole post before so I’ll link it: here

AND THATS IT

Like all this comes down to what maybe like 30 mins screentime? If that?

5. The leaving buck on their first date

The defences people use for this are:

• buck was trying to shove him back in the closet

• buck was obviously not ready

• people angry abt this are just babying buck like he can find his own way home it’s not that big of a deal

• buck was at fault there and tommy would’ve been justified in being angry and not giving him a second chance

And honestly every last one of these are bullshit imo and lemme go point by point

• buck panicked, I don’t think that what buck was feeling in that moment can be properly described because unless you’re a queer person and you’ve experienced that like bone deep panic that like brain overload then you won’t get it

Like one it’s his first queer date

Two he doesn’t even understand his own sexuality atp

Three his closest friend just walked in in a situation that’s already putting him on edge

So he’s not only panicking he’s not understanding why he’s panicking he’s trying to make excuses eventhough part of him knows he doesn’t need one but also he doesn’t even understand this side of himself yet so he doesn’t want to have to potentially explain it

Like it’s a million things and a million emotions and no one can claim they would behave rationally or appropriately in that situation and if you say that you would you’re lying simple as that

Also then we find out that Eddie thought tommy was straight anyways

• the reason I love the buddie coming out scene is because of Eddie’s “and what do you think” line because it’s not up to tommy or anyone else whether a person is “ready” enough in their queerness to date. Full stop.

Also tommy knew it was Buck’s first date with a man and was still down so why is he using that as some sort of out

•it’s not about babying buck and it’s not about him finding his own way home it’s the fact that Tommy could’ve done it with much more grace and he could’ve been a lot nicer with it but he wasn’t, and this is again bucks first date with a man even if it doesn’t end with a second date it should at the very least not end up with him feeling like a screw up on the side of the road

• to the ppl who say that- kindly shut up cos again see the first point but also I wanna point out that somehow the ppl saying this are also the same ones saying that Tommy was justified to be RACIST for a prolonged period of time due to being in the closet yet Buck what? Panicking for a few seconds and being a little awkward? is somehow this giant inexcusable thing

5. The narrative choices with him have been reasonably clear and tbh if they had been made with a woman it would not be up for debate:

• tommy leaves buck on their first date then he comes back and gives buck a chance- we as a fandom have been unanimous in saying for years that Buck’s endgame would be the one that doesn’t leave him cos this pattern has been something we saw over and over with him

• tommy not dressing up- again you can rationalise it but it’s a narrative choice and it’s glaring when contrasted with Eddie suggesting the duo costume

And if we had this scene with Taylor so many ppl would be saying that it’s once again showing that her and Buck’s personalities don’t align

• him being on standby for the wedding and bachelor party- again you can say oh buck invited him last minute or oh he couldn’t taken the day off (which lbr he could’ve he’s not the only firefighter pilot in la) - but again narrative choice

If it was Taylor everyone would’ve been like SEE? Again they’re showing the audience that her work is this looming presence in their relationship

Anyway I’m gonna shut up now cos this is A LOT

I’m so sorry it took me so long to respond tho and sending flowers in apology💐💐💐💐💐💐

Love ya for being so genuine when asking and hope all this didn’t come off too strong and that it was idk helpful?🫶🫶

I realise my response is abt to have toxic bt fans scurry to my inbox like rats to send hate and to that I say go fuck yourselves I’m responding to a question here

[bucking-mustangs-with-wings]

So I done goofed, and my brain wasn't happy until I wrote a sequel to my little Barbed Wire Hearts snippet/ask/prompt thing from yesterday. So here ya go!

@swifty-fox @moghraidhs this is very much for you because we all needed this to happen

I recommend listening to this while reading, it had me all up in my feels while writing this:

Walking into the hospital parking lot and seeing his old beat up red F150 still sitting there, like a silent vigil awaiting his return was almost a surreal experience for John. As much as he would have found the thought ridiculous in any other situation, he'd almost forgotten it existed in the time he had spent cooped up in the sterile environment of the hospital, mind awash with more pressing matters. Coupled with the stress and worry that had oozed from every single one of his pores like a sickness, the outside world other than room number 13 and its occupant was the only thing he had been mentally able to put any real energy into.

Curt and a few of the other boys had stopped by every few days to slink their way into the wing, jeans and boots and cowboy hats sticking out like a sore thumb amongst scrubs and white coats and had brought him a duffle bag of spare clothes and toiletries so he could use the visitor's showers. He'd made it pretty clear in the first days that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon, not even to pick himself up anything to eat (when he could remember to).

Curt had been an angel in that sense, too. He'd brought Bucky dinner a few nights in a row in the fortnight he was there, some cheap takeaway from one of the diners in the middle of town, burgers and such. And those nights he couldn't make it in to check up on things John had very helpfully been informed by one of the nurses on shift that she was to remind him to eat, even if it was from one of the crappy vending machines dotting the hospital corridors at the behest of a very worried friend that had called the front desk. The soft amused smile the woman had flashed his way alerted him to the fact that none of the nurses were bothered by Curt's mother-hen phonecalls. Especially when Bucky hadn't turned his phone off of silent since he'd been there and one too many calls had gone to voicemail. He knew he'd be getting an earful off Curt and the other boys once he had made it back to the grounds, but he also knew he'd be quickly forgiven his neglect, given the current circumstances.

As he got closer to the truck, pulling his keys out of his coat pocket and twirling them around his index finger, Bucky took a quick glance back over his shoulder at the figure not too far behind him, making sure they were still following him.

Buck still looked like he'd been hit by a semi truck, blue eyes cast down to the pavement as he diligently followed Bucky on auto-pilot, bruises still stark over his face, albeit slightly faded now, but still evident. Still sore looking. His left arm was cast from the hand all the way up to his elbow, held up gently in a sling over his good shoulder. Bucky had no doubt the other man could still feel the telltale ache in his left shoulder-socket where it had been popped completely out in the accident, features wincing every now and then if he stepped too heavily and jostled himself.

His blond hair was in a messed up disarray, bed-hair born of two weeks of laying in an uncomfortable hospital bed for hours at a time, sticking up in some places and falling softly across his forehead in others. The nurses had helped him up and into the room's private bathroom the night before and had helped him finally have a shower before he got discharged the next morning, an awkward affair that Bucky knew the blond didn't necessarily want to talk about if the blush that had painted his pale cheeks when prodded was anything to go by. Better than having to be given a spongebath though, by a long shot, and Bucky couldn't have agreed more.

He also couldn't help the small smile that pulled up at the corner of his lips as he raked his gaze over the smaller man's body, taking in the soft grey over-sized sweatpants (Bucky's) tightened as much as the drawstrings would allow around thinner hips, tucked loosely into worn Twisted X square toe boots. A good idea in hindsight when there was no way Buck would have been able to get himself into a pair of his usual jeans with the soreness of the bruising up his thigh and over the jut of his hip bone, matching his face in colour albeit a bit more angrier looking.

The nights were a bit cooler than they were a week or so before, so at Bucky's insistence Gale was also draped in one of John's massive Ariat puffer jackets, only one arm able to fill the sleeves while the other hung uselessly at Gale's side. With the collar pulled up around his ears, John felt a sense of pride and slight satisfaction knowing he was wearing his clothes. Everything but the plain white tshirt underneath the draped layers.

Walking over to the passenger side quickly after shoving the key in the driver's side door and unlocking it, Bucky opened the passenger door and swept his other arm out in a low gesture, a smirk on his face.

"After you, princess," he drawled, delighting in the unimpressed lift of an unbruised brow shot in his direction, but no real heat or disdain behind it.

He patiently waited with the door held open, allowing Buck to gingerly hoist himself up into the truck's cab knowing if he tried to assist in any way he'd get sworn at for his trouble, ever the independent hard-headed idiot Buck often was. Once the other man was seated comfortably, only a few winces and sharp intake of breath painfully hissed through clenched teeth, Bucky carefully shut the door and trotted around the front of the truck to climb into the driver's seat. He gave a double glance into the truck bed at his and Buck's bags he had tossed in a little while earlier before he'd gone back in to help with the discharge papers.

The old truck roared to life without much protest, and he couldn't help the self-satisfied little chuckle that escaped him, patting the dash like the vehicle was a loyal old dog at his heels. As much as he'd nearly forgotten about her amongst the chaos, he was happy to be back behind her wheel, even if the leather was peeling just a tiny bit from sun damage. It added more character, he thought.

He looked over at Gale, noticing the younger man sitting still and almost stiff, eyes zeroed in on the dash but glazed over in thought and what was probably left over sedation from the heavy painkillers he was given. His expression was blank, nothing giving away even the slightest hint at what was running through that pretty head of his, and Bucky felt that telltale tightening in his throat creep up again. But before he let it get a permanent grip, he reached forward, grabbing the black felt hat that had been sitting on the dash since the previous day (thanks, Curt) and picking it up before turning and dropping it perfectly over Buck's head.

The other man flinched in surprise, ripped out of his thoughts and his bright blue eyes coming back into focus as he turned to look at Bucky, a confused frown creasing his brow as he brought up his working hand and felt the hat underneath his fingers. He straightened it a few centimetres, eyes looking between Bucky's in a numb sort of questioning expression.

"My hat," he said dumbly, voice quieter and still that hint of lost that had Bucky swallowing back emotions that he didn't want to put a name to, instead letting a bright smile grow from his smirk in the blond's direction, teeth bright.

"Well, can't be much of a cowboy without your hat now, can you?" Bucky smiled, watching every minute change in Buck's expression like a hawk. He was rewarded with a swooping sensation in his chest when he noticed the smallest grin colour Buck's face, eyes flickering away from Bucky's with a small huff of a laugh to focus out the windshield.

"Don't think I'll be much of a cowboy for the next couple weeks, Bucky," Gale muttered. As if in stark reminder, he winced as he shifted slightly in the worn leather seat, obviously jostling one of the many painful areas littering his body.

"Ahhh come on," Bucky joked, leaning forward slightly to grip the ancient clutch and put the truck into gear. "You're still one of the best cowboys around, even if you are bruised and battered to high heaven."

Gale huffed out another light breath of a laugh, lifting his good elbow up to rest it against the open window, hand and fingers dangling on the outside and tapping a gentle beat against the metal of the door as Bucky pulled the vehicle out and towards the end of the parking lot onto the main road.

The next half hour of the drive back to the rodeo grounds was silent, just the monotone hum of the local radio turned down to barely audible from the truck's old speakers and the quick whoosh of another vehicle every now and then, passing them on the highway on the way back to where they'd just came from. The sun had dipped low enough on the horizon now that the reaching expanse of the county they were in painted a picture through the slightly dirty windshield, sky lit up in oranges and reds streaked through by a few stray clouds.

Bucky would hazard glances from the corner of his eyes every now and then at Gale, who sat still and stoic beside him, chin now rested in the palm of his hand against the window, eyes cast out to the scenery that rolled by. Bucky could tell that under the surface there was something much more sinister and harsh squeezing at Buck's heart and thoughts, spiraling down deep into a void that he worried he wouldn't be able to pull the younger man out of, even if he lassoed him like a runaway steer.

At some point, with a nervous swallow, Bucky reached his free hand out, covering Buck's thigh with the expanse of it, feeling the tension in the muscles and gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze, gentle and barely there, but a reminder he was right there with him all the same. He counted it as a win when he noticed Buck's face turn to him slightly with a soft smile, eyes very obviously still avoiding John's own before turning back to the view from the window. It had Bucky releasing a long breath he hadn't realised he had been holding hostage in his chest. He didn't attempt to remove his hand, and Buck didn't make any effort to shift out from under it. If anything, he leaned into the touch, knee swinging softly towards the gear stick in Bucky's general direction after a few moments. A silent thank you.

Bucky couldn't help the gentle self-satisfied smile that graced itself onto his face.

By the time Bucky turned the truck off the highway and through the big open gates of the grounds, the sun had dipped that much further underneath the distant mountains that everything was washed in a barely perceivable darkness. What was left of the sunset was slowly turning itself to the deep blue of the night, stars beginning to reveal themselves against the quickly fading orange glow.

As the beam of the truck's headlights lit up the dirt road further into the grounds and towards the still set up camps close by the back of the arena, the familiar sight of gooseneck trailers and camper trailers, awnings folded out and a pit fire settled in the middle amongst them came more into view.

They could see the silhouettes of a dozen people, Curt and Dougie and Brady and the rest all chatting away circled around the fire, beers in a few hands as Bucky slowly pulled the truck to a stop up beside Crosby's trailer. It wasn't until he had turned off the engine, hopping out of the cab with stiff knees and moved around to Buck's side that Curt's voice cut through the night and reached them through the other voices.

"Ayyyy, the great Champion returns!" Bucky couldn't help the grin from painting his face as he looked up, mid opening Buck's door and seeing Curt walking in their direction, back lit up in orange from the fire's warmth and arms lifted above his head, beer bottle in one hand.

Buck had only just planted his boots on the ground with a slightly pained grunt before he was swept up in a happy but very careful embrace by Curt, the other shorter man being incredibly cautious as to which parts he touched, but none the less enthusiastic in his greeting. The curve of Buck's own smile, teeth glinting in the half darkness caught Bucky's eye and he couldn't help the weight that lifted from the centre of his chest.

"It's good to see you, Buck. They finally release you from that hellhole, huh? Thought our good ol' Bucky here was gonna rot himself to that chair by your bed if you didn't get outta there soon."

Bucky couldn't help the bashful way he rubbed at the back of his neck at Curt's words, hoping the slight colour that rose to his cheeks wasn't too obvious in the lowlight when Buck shot him a soft glance from his peripheral.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away, Curt," Buck joked back. It was light-hearted and jovial, appeasing Curt's attention on him, but Bucky could see that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a blank faraway look behind those baby blues, and it made Bucky's chest restrict uncomfortably as he watched as more of the boys made their way over. They all stepped forward to squeeze the blond cowboy's good shoulder or shake his good hand, some like Brady and Jack and Crosby mirroring Curt and pulling Buck into a gentle embrace, ever careful of his injuries.

Once they had all made their way over to the fire's warmth, Curt all but forcing Buck into one of the fold out camper chairs in his usual mother hen ways, everyone took their turn updating him and Bucky on everything they had missed while they had been in the hospital. Buck more-so, considering the first almost week the man had been unconscious for most of the time and had missed more than Bucky had.

Curt took a few moments to admonish Bucky like he had expected at having had his phone on silent for nearly the entire time, but Bucky just waved him off with a cocky smirk. He kept glancing at Buck every few minutes, taking note of every small change in the blond's expression, the way he joked with the others, the small smiles and tilt of his chin when he laughed as much as his broken ribs would allow him to in their process of healing. To any of the others, everything was normal, Buck's gentle quiet nature and injuries the reasoning as to why he wasn't quite himself yet, why there wasn't that normal spark in the shine of his eyes. But Bucky could feel the tension, the exhaustion that was more than just from pain and injury radiating from Buck like he was melded with the man's very mind himself. Could see the way he tucked himself further underneath Bucky's jacket every now and then with a faraway look on his face before he made himself more alert to the conversations around him.

Bucky just sat and boded his time, happy to not have to make too much small talk amongst the other boys as the night further darkened and the numbers on his watch got later and later.

When most of the conversations had died down and a few of the boys had retired to their trailers for the night, a few still milling about with the happiness that both Buckies return had caused and talking amongst themselves, voices slightly slurred from alcohol, Bucky stood from his seat against the wheel of one of the goosnecks and shoved his slightly chilled hands deep into his pocket. Making his way over to where Buck was still seated in the camper chair, staring blankly into the fire which wasn't as fierce as earlier in the evening now.

Leaning down, his lips close to Buck's ear from behind he whispered a low "Come on, Sunshine, follow me for a sec. Got something I wanna show ya."

He smirked when Buck jumped slightly in surprise at the sound of his voice so close, obviously so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed Bucky make his way over. Craning his neck backwards so he could look up at Bucky's face, blue eyes trying hard to focus on him upside down, he frowned in question.

"Come on," Bucky repeated, smile soft and obvious as he stepped to the side a little and held his hand out to Buck in an offer to help hoist him to his feet. The blond almost looked like he wasn't going to move, body language hesitant and lips pursing into a tight line, before he sighed and reached out with his good hand, gripping Bucky's offered firmly and allowing himself to be lifted into standing, a small grimace of pain fluttering across his features at his ribs obviously screaming in protest.

Once Bucky was sure he had recovered, he tugged at their joined hands gently, tilting his chin in the direction of the arena with a small smile. Buck looked at him, still questioning in his gaze before he allowed himself to be lead through the cluster of trailers. He didn't drop Bucky's hand, but instead almost hesitantly thread their fingers together. Bucky couldn't help his heart from soaring as he gave Gale's hand a gentle squeeze in silent comfort.

Like second nature he guided Gale out of the gathered maze of trailers, the sounds of the other boy's voices growing further and further behind them until the arena was not far in front of them, only just visible by some of the smaller flood-lights that were still on around the barriers. When they got closer, and Bucky turned towards the holding yards, he felt Gale falter slightly, his hand pulling back subconsciously but he didn't drop their hold.

Bucky looked back at Gale's face, seeing the blond's eyes focused out onto the sands, expression blank but taut like a frayed guitar string on the verge of snapping, and he slowed his stride.

"Hey," Bucky spoke gently, like he was approaching a ready-to-spook horse. When Buck still didn't look at him, he gave their still joined hands a squeeze and a shake, until Gale finally snapped his eyes back to Bucky's. They were wide and had a look of slight fear buried deep behind, flickering over Bucky's face trying to look for some semblance of comfort. Bucky held their gaze for a few moments, both men having stopped in their journey, and waited until he knew Buck was partially back in the present. "Hey it's okay, I promise. Trust me."

Gale's expression was still one of veiled panic and grief for a few more seconds, before he found whatever he was looking for in Bucky's own face and let his shoulders slouch and relax, breath exhaling slowly with a small nod.

With a comforting smile, Bucky tugged at their hands gently until Gale fell back into step behind him, eyes still glancing over to the middle of the arena every now and then like he was seeing invisible monsters advancing towards them.

Bucky could only imagine what was going through the smaller man's head, still often privvy to his own torturous memories and images from the day of Buck's accident no matter how hard he tried to forget and push them back. Every now and then the picture of Gale's face, bright red blood flowing down one side of it and slack in unconsciousness, pale and looking for all intent and purposes dead kept haunting him. But he stamped those thoughts down, focusing instead on the feeling of Buck's thankfully now warm fingers between his own, the slight sensation of his fluttering pulse.

Making it to the holding yards out behind the bull chutes, Bucky carefully made his way through the maze of yards, keeping a firm grip on Buck's hand as the two men threaded their way in and out between metal gates and runs in the dark.

Gale's voice, hushed and urgent, reached him from behind, and the smile only grew on his face. "Bucky I can't fucking see. We're both gonna fall head over tit if you don't slow-"

"Shhh!" Bucky answered back, only pulling Gale further into the pens.

Gale made an affronted noise, mouth parted. "Did you just fucking shush me?!"

"Sure did, now if you'd just shut your pretty mouth and look."

Gale gave his hand a harsh squeeze in retaliation. "Did you forget the part where I just said I can't see? What the hell am I even supposed to be looking a-"

Buck froze in his following of Bucky, the taller man allowing himself to be pulled to a complete stop when Buck's hand pulled against his as the whuffled knicker of a familiar horse finally reached the blond's ears in the darkness.

Bucky turned, facing Buck so he could catch sight of the smaller man's face in the dim light, and he couldn't help the genuine warm smile that split his face, noticing Gale's eyes focused somewhere off behind him, shock evident and an obvious glint of wetness beginning to form against dark blond bottom lashes.

His lips moved silently, stuck on actually producing any noise, until he glanced up at Bucky, brow furrowing into a look of pain. "John.."

"She's been waitin' for you," John said simply in response, still smiling brightly and allowing Buck's hand to drop from his as the blond stepped past him towards the last square pen at the end of the lane.

Almost as if he was seeing a ghost, Buck walked up carefully, eyes flickering over every inch of the palomino mare's body, taking in every inch of her as she walked up to the rails and shoved her head through and pushed her nose into Gale's chest, still murmuring at him. He couldn't help the way his breath rushed out of him at the contact, good hand lifting up shakily until he rested it on the white of her blaze. She nudged at him again, a questioning sort of move and lipped at the cast around his other arm. A silent question of 'what the hell is this thing? Why do you have this?'

Bucky slowly walked up to stand beside Buck, reaching up and resting his arms onto the higher rails in a casual air of relaxtion, and watched, transfixed as Gale just stared at the horse, hand still on her face, the younger's breathing jagged and coming in short bursts. Shock, relief.

After a few more moments, Buck seemed to come back to himself, a disbelieving breath escaping parted lips and turned his gaze back to Bucky. John could see the tears still evident in the other man's lower lashes, glittering and growing and threatening to fall to the dust underneath them.

"H-how..?"

Bucky smiled at him, resting his forehead against his folded arms and looked at the mare in question. "Curt's been looking after her while you were gone. Made sure she was real pampered, 'til you got back and did the pampering yourself."

"But she.. Bucky, I thought she was.."

Bucky chuckled, low and easy, and nudged his shoulder against Gale's. "What, dead? Nahhh, barely got a scrape on her. Tiny little cut just above the front hoof. Vet didn't even have to wrap it."

At John's words it was like a dam broke from within Buck, and he could only watch helpless as the tears gathered in the blond's eyes finally fell down his cheeks in silvery lines as he squeezed them shut, body bowing over at the waist with his good hand braced against his knee before straightening again. Buck tilted his face to the sky for a few seconds, breathing ragged, a barely audible sob hitching from his lungs painfully.

"I thought she broke her neck. God, Bucky I thought she was fucking dead, I thought she'd broke a leg, and she had to be shot. Fuck I- As soon as I woke up, that's all I could... that's all I could fucking-"

John stepped up to Gale, reaching up and pulling the smaller man against his broad chest and held him there, feeling the small tremors that wracked Gale's broken body. He put a hand against the back of Gale's head, fingers threading through golden strands, hat getting knocked off kilter and falling onto the ground.

"Hey, hey, you're okay. Everything's okay. Baby's okay. She's as tough as her goddamn rider," Bucky shushed him gently, resting his cheek against the top of Buck's head and just allowing the other to cry all but silently into his neck. He could feel the air chill the wetness there and looked up to the stars himself and thanked whatever was watching over them that Buck was still here, that he was still alive and able to be held in his arms like this. He felt his own eyes begin to gather tears at the fragility of the man in his arms, and swallowed harshly against them.

Bucky inhaled deeply, Gale's good hand clutched desperately in the side of his jacket, a warm weight sitting there as he pressed his lips into the crown of Buck's hair.

"Think she came out of it a bit better than you did, though," he whispered as an afterthought, lips curving into a smirk when he felt Gale clench his hand into a fist and thump it into his ribs in reply. He couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest, only slightly moving back so that he could look down at Buck, his smirk melting into a soft smile at the sight of Gale now looking up at him. Tear stained cheeks and lashes clumped together, a defiant glare but with no real malice directed at him, eyes bright and blue and more reminiscent of the Buck that John knew and adored.

Gale's eyes flickered from his down to his lips and back, frown easing into something much softer and more vulnerable, and Bucky thought his heart would explode at the pure emotion he could see mirrored in Buck's irises. His breath stuttered, smile slipping off of his lips and heart thundering like a freight train behind his ribs.

Everything fell into a syrupy slow motion as they stared at eachother, Bucky's hand that had been gently cupping the back of Buck's head slowly slipping around to cup the other man's cheek, slow and careful, thumb sweeping over the sharp line of his jaw in a barely there caress.

He swallowed thickly, noticing Buck nudge into that hold, eyes lowering back to his lips. He felt like his entire world was tilting on its axis, narrowing down to just the two of them standing out in the middle of the stock pens behind the arena where he nearly lost the one thing he had ever truly cared for more than the feeling of being perched up on a raging bull's back. Even riding a bull made his heart thunder less than it was right now.

Carefully, giving Gale the chance to pull away, he sighed, breath ghosting over the other man's lips. "Buck, I-"

"Shut the fuck up and kiss me John before we both die of old age," Gale whispered harshly, good hand that was gripping into Bucky's jacket tugging now and John couldn't help the surprised smile from lifting his lips.

"Sure thing, cowboy," John laughed silently, revelling in the familiar exasperated roll of Buck's eyes towards him before he surged forward and ever so gently pressed his lips against Gale's, eyes closing against the absolutely overwhelming sparks that ignited in his chest like someone had just lit fireworks behind his sternum.

Gale's lips were soft, just like he'd imagined a million times, pliant and warm and so gentle it stole his breath away, and it wasn't until Buck's good hand reached up and threaded through his dark curls that he allowed himself to deepen the kiss, tilting his head slightly. His lips parted, allowing Buck the access to slip his tongue carefully along his own, insistent and starved but always gentle. He could feel the taut guitar string tension like a mockery of earlier in the night behind Gale's kiss, a long awaited hunger like a man starved and then unleashed among all the sustenance he could have ever wished for.

It wasn't until Buck made a small sound in the back of his throat, a small needy gasp that Bucky allowed himself to pull back slightly, letting his lips linger as he allowed Buck a few more soft kisses before he gasped himself, pulling air into his starved lungs and it was only then he realised that at some point he had stopped breathing all together.

Buck didn't chase, happy and content with what had just happened, but still comfortable to stay wrapped up in John's arms, no sign of regret or fear in any way, and Bucky let his eyes open slowly and wander over the ruined and wrecked expression on the other man's face. Kiss swollen lips were still parted, breath huffing sharply, body still trembling but for entirely different reasons than before now, and Bucky didn't think he had ever seen anything more perfect, more beautiful in his life. Nothing, not even winning the PBR in Vegas could make him feel as elated or wonder-struck as this moment right here, having just kissed Gale fucking Cleven in some random rodeo grounds.

Trying for a few moments to catch his breath, Bucky let his thumb graze over Gale's jaw again in a gentle gesture, watching half lidded blue eyes peer up at him in wonder. He couldn't help the breathless laugh that escaped him, forehead bumping against Buck's, tips of their noses touching shortly after.

Baby knickered from behind them, shocking them back slightly into the present and John laughed again, the mare reminding him of something.

"By the way," Bucky panted, grin curving even further "Curt may wanna demand some compensation looking after your girl. He's down one half of an ass-cheek as of two days ago. She's got a nice pair of chompers on 'er."

Buck realed back, shock evident in his eyes and the gape of his mouth. "She fuckin' what?"

[auspicioustidings]

The Gentle Duchess

Blue Blood Part 4

Summary: Continuation of the Blood Druid. Johnny finally teaches you about the things you want to know.

Word Count: 3.3k

CWs: Smut, just shameless smut (which I am still a beginner at so my sibling in Christ temper your expectations)

“Aye, I can teach ye. Good students dinnae yell at their teachers like that though, dae they? I ken ye’ll have been raised with all sorts of those nice gentle manners, so ask again nicely hen” Johnny said, looking down at you sat on the bed with no end of heated mischief in his eyes. 

You had been raised with those nice, gentle manners. You had a reputation as such, the Gentle Duchess who was rarely ever seen at social events but always mild tempered when she did appear. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Powerful father so a decent prospect for marriage, no brothers. You had been ok with that, it wasn’t a bad thing to be known for being gentle. But right in this moment you understood the call to bloodlust that men at war held. You wanted to strangle this strange creature.

“Good teachers do not tease their students sir” you replied, curt and proper. 

Something of an animal came across him when you had called him sir. You had meant it to be mocking, anyone of good breeding would know it was an insult being said in such a tone. But it affected him in some way that was frighteningly exciting. 

“Ye want tae know whit it’d really be like if I wis teasing ye my lady?” he replied, voice seeming deeper now, the last two words coated in syrup. 

He had leaned forward, putting his hands to either side of you and caging you in. Your heartbeat quickened and you felt a confusion in your blood, fighting to rush to either your cheeks or between your legs. Johnny watched in delight as you naturally leaned back, not even realising you were doing so until you were braced on your forearms, him continuing to follow to stay right in your space. 

It was delicious watching you rebel for what was probably the first time in your life. He had met many women from the nobilities of these silly little Kingdoms, none quite as sheltered as you. And yet there was such a fight in you wrestling to get out. He knew it had always been there, knew that this was destiny for you to fall into their laps. He would bring out that fight, let you sharpen your nails on his skin and whet your teeth on his blood. 

“Perhaps you should reevaluate your surety that you could truly tease me” you said, trying your best to emulate the way you heard the vipers of different social events speak. Polite in the most cutting of ways. 

“Such a sharp tongue on ye” he grinned, putting a firm hand to the centre of your chest and giving one strong push.

With a soft oof you found your back on the bed, arms no longer holding you up. He readjusted, bringing one knee to rest on the small space at the edge of the bed between your legs and bracing one hand beside your head. The other he brought to your lips, two fingers bullying their way past to massage at your tongue. 

“Cannae believe such a pretty wee mouth would gie me such an attitude” he cooed.

Your head may have been getting a little hazey, the sink into that floating space you had discovered this past couple of days feeling imminent, but you steeled yourself. You bit down, feeling a little satisfaction when he hissed and pulled his fingers away, shaking them out. Johnny was indulging you a little, he knew your bite had been controlled, gentle. You didn’t have it in you just yet to try to hurt him. He wondered if you ever would, but he thought it might be a good thing that your nature was more to be docile and gentle. He was more than sure he could push you to be mean, but for Simon a gentle love would be perfect. 

“If you are not going to teach me, then I would prefer you go and play with someone else.”

“You bit me, feral wee thing.”

You tried to stop from going bright red, not able to stop it. Feral wee thing. You had never dreamed anyone would even have a passing thought to think of you in such a way. It made you feel a rush of heady satisfaction. Is this how a pampered cat must feel when it finds cause to sink its claws into something? The reminder that under all those frills and laces and poise there was still a predator?

There was a desperate want in you. Oh how you wanted and wanted and wanted. You wanted to bite him again to see him hiss, you wanted him to bite you so you could feel the sting. You wanted him to touch you. Oh Gods you wanted to touch him. You wanted to stop fighting and beg to touch him, show him how gentle and compliant you could be and have him coo sweet praises at you for it. You wanted to fight and fight and fight until he forced compliance out of you. 

Johnny could see you at odds with yourself. He was pushing you he knew, probably too far too fast. How irresistible a temptation it was when it flushed you so, had you erratically grinding down on his knee without even realising it. Had your hands fisting the sheets, white knuckled in an attempt to keep from losing control and touching him. Touching yourself. Fuck, the little whine that had left you unbidden at his words had him painfully hard. 

But there was another feeling aching away in his chest. His brothers in arms were 3 men he loved fiercely, he would call down the Gods to burn the world for them. Simon Riley especially. The man who had understood what it was like to be looked down on. When Johnny had first let Gaz talk him into joining the Duke’s little team, he had only done it because he thought the Prince was a bonnie thing he wouldn’t mind corrupting and because he wanted to see more of the world. It was Simon who noticed the way people would treat him. Like some untamed savage.

He enjoyed it for the most part, but it got lonely after a while to have everyone be scared of you. And then the big eejit in a mask had started dragging him to spar with the other soldiers, had goaded him into bantering little arguments at dinner where the servants in earshot could hardly hide their laughter, had told fantastical stories to wide eyed children about how Johnny’s homeland had cù-sìths and kelpies and unicorns and all sorts of magic bubbling away that had them constantly bothering Johnny to tell them all about it. He admitted he enjoyed telling them all about his home, treating them with ghost stories and tales of grand adventure.

It was only when he realised all at once that the people around here smiled at him in greeting that he had been fully aware of Simon’s cleverness and quiet care. The man was a monster on the battlefield, but so few saw that he was also fiercely loyal and he protected those he considered his. Looking at you, knowing that soon he would be giving you to the man who so fully deserved you, had his heart singing. 

You would so perfectly compliment him, be the gentle place his heart could rest. Johnny felt such a rush of love for you then, the same warm light he got when communing with his Gods. He sent up a quick prayer, a thank you for sending you. 

“Your aroused wee yin, that’s what this is.”

“What?”

“Ye wanted teaching naw?” he said, steady and encouraging as the bitten hand was placed on your waist, giving a warm squeeze. “This feeling, it’s arousal. This divine wee body wants touching, needs something inside.”

You heard your little noise this time, a startled note. You had tried to put your finger inside, it had felt foreign and uncomfortable. The Prince and the Duke hadn’t… well there was the Duke’s clever tongue. It made you see stars. Did it need to be a tongue? 

“I tried that” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes out of shame.

You jolted when he pressed his lips against your jaw, kisses peppering over you and down to the neckline of your dress. The hand at your waist dragged leisurely down, rucking your dress up to your thigh before pausing there. He pulled his lips away.

“Look at me please.” 

He had asked so achingly sweetly that you had little choice in the matter, meeting his eyes. He was different somehow, no less intense but the intensity was different. Softer in a way that was terrifying for a reason you couldn’t name. 

“Fuck. Tha thu bòidheach” he said, almost breathless. 

“I don’t…”

“Let me touch ye. Let me show ye how to feel good.”

Gone was the teasing, he seemed so sincere now. And he wasn’t pushing you either, the hand on your dress paused. With the others there hadn’t been anytime to really think about it. You had been overwhelmed with sensation. But now he gave you time, gave you a quiet moment to decide if this was something you wanted of him. And still, still you wanted.

“...please” you whispered, not even sure if the word was audible.

“Ok mo leannan, I’ve got ye. Going tae undress you.”

And undress you he did, achingly softly, until you were bare on the bed. He moved you with gentle touches to be fully laid out so he could straddle you and press his forehead to yours with an affectionate headbutt that made you scowl and butt him right back, causing him to chuckle lightly and nuzzle on you.

“Still my feral wee thing.”

He started trailing kisses from your jaw again, this time not meeting any fabric to stop him from continuing down to the swell of your breasts. His hand was firm on your stomach keeping you pressed down into the plush bed as he swirled his tongue around one of your nipples. Your body tried to arch without your permission and you nearly choked on your own saliva at the sharp gasp of pleasure escaping your lips. 

“I… I can feel it between my legs. Ah! I-it’s like there is a path between them” you rambled, trying to fight against the urge to just lose yourself in the sensation so you could understand.

The wet pop of his mouth leaving you was obscene.

“Aye, to here” he said, hand coming to cup you. “Lots of names people call this.”

“His highness he- oh Gods I don’t- c-cunt! That’s what he called it.”

“Fuuuck. Never sounded so pretty a word before now. Whit did his royal pain in the arse call this then?” he asked, finger delving in to press at your clit.

“He called it my clit. Please!”

“Come on wee yin, use your words.”

“I - I don’t know!”

It was driving you wild, his fingers just sitting there pressing. Not moving. You were trying to wriggle as best you could with his other hand still holding you down, trying to get anything. You thought you might cry.

“Aye ye dae. Dinnae be a brat, tell me whit it is ye want.”

You lashed out, small hand grabbing at his hair and sharply pulling as you bared your teeth at him. You hated being called a brat and he had done it twice now. You were a Duchess, demure and proper. If anyone was being a brat it was him. He brought this out in you, this beast. If he was so determined to act like it was somehow you being the problem here then he could do something about it. Oh, wasn’t that a thought that got your blood hot.

“Move your fingers. Use your tongue. Do something!”

His pupils were blown out and he was panting like a dog at the little attack, baring his teeth right back with a feral grin. 

“I’ll allow it my lady, jist this once. After ye get married, ye try that again and I’ll bend ye over and fuck your arse silly while the Prince eats out your cunt. Ye’ll be begging for us tae let your husband come take whit’s his by the time we’re through with ye.”

You didn’t fully understand, but it made you want to fight even more nonetheless. He still wasn’t moving his damn fingers. Deliberate of course on Johnny’s part. He had really thought he could be slow and loving with you, but he adored you spitting mad like this. You were so haughty, refusing to beg him pretty. He knew that Simon and Price would probably spoil you completely, it would be him and Gaz who would work you up like this, get you fighting.

“You insufferable man! I will not beg anything of you” you snapped, yanking him down so you could kiss him.

It was a battle more than anything, all tongues and teeth. The sounds were lewd and you did not care, only relishing in a small victory when he had to move his hands from between you to balance himself and you could wrap your legs around him, rolling your hips to get that friction he should have just given you in the first place. He moaned loudly into your mouth and you felt a hard length pressing into you beneath the heavy fabric of his kilt. It startled you enough to loosen your grip on him, allowing him to pull his mouth from yours, both of you panting and staring at one another.

“Did Gaz teach you the name for it?”

“He… I think he touched it, but he wouldn’t let me see.”

“Selfish Prince hm?”

Your legs tightened around him when he went to move off of you, not understanding. He gave your neck a small nip with his teeth which made you yelp and he used the distraction to pull away and stand. You turned to your side to look up at him in what you had wanted to be anger, but was more akin to looking like a kicked puppy. When he started to unwind the fabric covering him, you watched with fascination. 

You could not look away from the heavy weight between his legs, hard. He wrapped his hand around it and you saw that it was leaking, his thumb catching on that liquid to slick himself up.

“Cock gets hard like this the same way that pretty cunt gets all wet,” he said, fist continuing to pump slowly. 

“May I…?”

You weren’t sure how to ask exactly, but your curiosity had cooled some of your fight. You wanted to touch him the way he was touching himself, see what it felt like. You swallowed thickly, salivating with the image of putting your tongue on him. Would it feel for him the way the Duke had made you feel? He held his hand out to yours and when you took it guided you to hold him. 

It was velvety, hotter than you thought. Sticky. His low moan made your bones rattle. You could die to hear him do it again. You shifted forward to taste it and the noise you were rewarded with made you believe in his old Northern Gods. 

“Fuck, pretty little tongue feels perfect. You’re perfect” he groaned. 

For some reason those two words made you squirm far more than any filth that he could have come out with. He carded a hand through your hair and moved your head back from him, groaning.

“Turn around mo leannan.”

You didn’t follow the instruction immediately, confused and stubborn. But you didn’t resist when he just took your body and turned it as if you weighed nothing to him. You were laid on your side facing away from him and his body joined you, chest against your back. His arm landed heavy on your hip, hand coming around to finally touch you like you had wanted. 

“Touch yourself the way I’m doing, I’m going tae move my fingers to put them inside. Need ye tae relax.”

You wanted, you wanted, you wanted. If he was going to give you what you wanted then you could do what he said without complaint, fingers bumping against his sweetly as you took over. He readjusted your legs, pushing his cock between your thighs making you moan at the heat of it. When he was able to rut slowly he finally dropped his fingers to your opening, pushing one inside.

It felt different to when you had done it. It felt so hot and tight and wet and you could feel your walls trying to milk his finger. 

“So tight. So hot and tight and perfect. Fuck taking it so pretty aren’t ye mo leannan? This was made for a cock, that’s whit I meant by saying I wisnae going tae take your maidenhood. The first cock in ye should be yer husbands in this Kingdom. Fuuuck, bunch of bastards. If ye were from the Northern Isles wouldnae be a problem for me to be inside ye before ye married.”

Everything felt blindingly intense, but it felt like you were on a thin line between that and a fuzzy softness. Like if you just gave in to it, you could leave your thoughts to the wayside and just feel. You resisted, too busy buzzing with the singular thought that one finger was already making you feel desperately stretched and full. A cock inside you?

“I’d die if you put it inside me, s’too big. Feel so full already” you whined, grabbing one of the pillows to press your face into.

He was picking up the pace, the sound of his hard cock sliding between your thighs combined with the sound of his finger pumping in and out of you wet and only interrupted by both of your desperate noises. 

“I know, so tight. We’ll help ye, me and the Prince and the Duke. Get ye ready and excited,” he said, his words spoken right into the flesh of your shoulder where he had buried his head. 

He added another finger and you swore, not something very lady like but fuck you wanted, you wanted, you wanted. Your own fingers bumped against his again, dipping down to get more of that slick to make everything feel better. He kissed at your shoulder and you thought you could die from such a sweet little gesture.

“So good, taking it so good. Feels better already hm? Ye know that ye were made to take our cocks, can feel ye clenching thinking about it. Would ye like that? After Simon gets ye nice and full with a child let the rest of us have ye. Never going tae want for anything wee yin, we’ll take such good care of ye.”

He reminded you of Gaz, the words seemingly being spoken for himself more than you. The idea that he would find it pleased him thinking of you being taken care of was going to give you heart problems. 

It was only after you came with a scream that he really showed you how much this was affecting him. He fucked your thighs with a fury, leaving your breathless. You had taken your fingers away, choking a sob when he pulled his out and then just crying out incoherently when instead of removing them entirely he went back to your clit, the overstimulation dragging pleasure out of pain. 

“J-Johnny I can’t!”

“Ye fucking can! Cum for me again my lady” he growled.

Turned out you could and the way you howled had him cumming as well. You felt ropes of sticky fluid make a mess of your thighs and you were too boneless and dazed to question it. That was a lesson for another time, on the balance of things you reckoned school was out for the day.

[eli-am-confused]

please tell me more about your au with Wiley, Sheila, Duke & Holloway :0

The general idea is that they grow up together and solve Hatchetfield “mysteries” which mostly involves throwing hands with cultists and saving people from becoming another missing persons case. I can see them solving smaller problems to, but I just can’t get the image of them punching cultists in the face out of my head. I imagine they’re also discovering stuff about Hatchetfield along the way.

This au is based on Scooby Doo and Solve It Squad with hints of Gravity Falls because of some obvious reasons. Basically, childhood friends from mid-elementary to the end of high school who get up to some serious hijinks. They split up after high school due to a multitude of factors but specifically after the Accident™️ which causes Holloway to make her deal. They do end up back in Hatchetfield and as a group in adulthood but that takes time and a LOT of stuff happens before then. I’m mostly focused on them as kids and teens tho because that’s when most of the au stuff actually happens.

That gets me to some miscellaneous thoughts, that you probably weren’t asking for but I don’t exactly have a lot of people to talk to about this, over the au in no particular order and with no particular significance. (Keep in mind that not everything is quite set in stone and I love hearing other ideas.)

- Duke is the youngest, then Holloway, then Wilbur, and lastly Sheila is the oldest. Sheila likes to shove it in everyone’s faces that she’s the oldest but Wilbur’s the only one who ever falls for the bait. The other two just roll their eyes and go back to whatever they were doing prior to it getting brought up.

- The whole group has a tendency to banter and pick fights with each other. Sheila is especially bad about it and Wilbur is really bad about always falling into her traps. The only person in the group who is constantly good at shooting down someone who’s trying to pick a fight is Duke, he’s also very efficient at ending fights. That, of course, doesn’t mean he isn’t prone to getting into some mischief of his own from time to time.

- Believe it or not Wilbur has the capability of being the most serious of the group. He can get really into a case and is very protective over his friends and “civilians” that accidentally get caught up in the supernatural. He has the uncanny ability to flip from childish to serious, as he grows older he uses this to his advantage.



- Ok so I’m sure you’re all aware of my Jon Matteson (+Curt Mega) character family tree head-cannon/au. Well, that is also a part of this au because I’m in love with them being the biggest, most confusing family in Hatchetfield.

That being said, Duke is the oldest brother of like 5 and takes his job as oldest very seriously. Despite being the youngest of the friend group he is a professional mother hen and is always carrying medical supplies, water, and snacks in his backpack (plus some important case files and books on the weird and unusual). He also has a very “no man left behind” mentality but I think the whole group echoes that sentiment.

- Wilbur may be an only child but he’s grown up pretty close to his cousin Ted. They have an almost sibling relationship, but are much meaner to each other so a lot of people assume they don’t get along. But a lot of people also have the tendency to assume they’re twins so what do they know anyway?

- Sheila is an only child rich kid. Her parents are also a part of a cult but she doesn’t realize it or get involved with the cult until her senior year of high school. She is a confusing case when it comes to sociability because on one hand she can be absolutely terrible about interacting with others but on the other she knows how to manipulate others into doing the things she needs them to do.

- Holloway is an orphan who didn’t know her parents. Despite growing up around a lot of other kids she’s always felt like an outsider. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t look out for the other kids tho, she’s just more of a cool cousin than an older sister type. Holloway is the worst at social interactions, but she is very protective of those around her and will do basically anything to make sure they’re ok.

- Something I totally didn’t almost forgot to add is that their favorite hangout spot is Wilbur’s house; it has been for about as long as they’ve been friends. It was really just the obvious choice for them. Holloway can’t host for pretty obvious reasons. Duke would like to host but his house is always full of people of all ages and he doesn’t want his friends to feel uncomfortable while he takes care of a younger brother that wouldn’t sit still for anyone but him. Sheila may be rich but she’s all too aware that her parents are weird and they wouldn’t like having her friends over anyway. Wilbur’s house is just, unfortunately, the best place to be.

- an idea I’ve been throwing around in my head is that Holloway could be in contact with Webby. The main groups that this au is based on (Scooby Doo/Solve It Squad) both have an animal companion (talking dog really but in Mystery Incorporated the group before the Scooby gang had a bird so I think any animal would work) and I think Webby could fit that spot in her spider form. I don’t want her to be all that involved though, just giving little hints and suggestions to the group (specially Holloway) when they need it.

- @/thearcanecat mentioned in her reblog of the first post about this au that she imagines Sheriff Keane would be worried about the kids at first before realizing that they’re doing a better job then his own police force and then he would sneak important files in Dukes bag to get them on a case/help them figure some stuff out and I really like that idea! Originally I had imagined Sheriff Keane really not being involved in what the group was doing but I think this makes sense for him. Like obviously he would never do anything to endanger the children but I imagine he’s very proud of the work they’re doing. They are, after all, doing a lot more for Hatchetfield then his men ever have.

- No one can stay mad at Duke. It’s just a way of life. Duke of course doesn’t abuse this power but it does come with some perks. He can easily make witnesses feel comfortable after tragedy, he can talk the groups way out of trouble with the cops, and on the more rare and bizarre occasion he can make a cult member rethink all the bad things they’ve done in the name of whatever dark god they follow. He’s particularly good with younger kids and has a big soft spot for them. Dukes main motivation in life is to help others and make the world a safer place for everyone.

- another thing I’m kinda thinking about is possible shipping? Like obviously this wouldn’t come up until they’re teens but it is an idea I’m juggling with. Specifically wine and dine is something I think can only really come together as adults but I think it could be a very interesting concept post Accident™️ (I am still planning on actually writing it out but if you wanna know the gist of what happens there it’s in the reblogs of the first post for this au). I’m also particularly attached to teen Wilbur dealing with the most obvious and embarrassing crush on Duke. This is all just a thought tho and I do not plan on them getting crushes on each other until they’re older.

Sorry this took so long to answer it’s just been a busy week. If anyone has questions about this au I am very happy to talk about it.

(Also I’m really bad at naming things so if anyone has any idea of a name for this au I am taking suggestions because all I have is the Hatchet Catchers and I’m really not sure about that one)

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Fic Update: Gentle On My Mind

Hi! Good morning. Happy Monday. I'm awake very early. Here's chapter five.

Summary:

A wrench is thrown in Buck's return to work plans.

Snippet:

Maddie opens her mouth to say something else, but across the yard, Buck starts coughing loudly, snapping Maddie’s attention away from Shannon. At first, it catches Shannon by surprise how alert Maddie is to the sound of her brother’s coughing. Hypervigilant, like she’s expecting him to drop dead right there. Shannon can see real concern in her friend’s expression. But then Buck starts stumbling backwards, hand clutching his chest. He moves his hand to his mouth to cough again, and when he pulls it away, it’s red. Bloody. 

“Oh my god!” Shannon exclaims, struggling a bit to stand as Maddie flies out of her chair.

As Maddie runs towards Buck, he begins vomiting blood onto the lawn. 

Shannon feels cold. What makes a person do that? Why would that happen? 

People surround Buck, coming to his aid as he pukes once more, then seemingly passes out. His captain. His sister. Hen and Chimney. Eddie.  Athena is calling 9-1-1. 

“Dad, what’s happening to him?” Christopher asks, red-faced. 

“Chris, go to your mother,” Eddie instructs. His voice is curt. A little more snappish than he probably intends. He’s scared. Shannon can tell, though he probably thinks he’s hiding it. He’s scared. 

---

Tagging:

@epicbuddieficrecs @theotherbuckley @sevenweeksofunrepression @slowlyfoggydestiny @goldenbcnes

@diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @aquamarineglitter @loserdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings

@your-catfish-friend @incorrect9-1-1 @hawaiianlove808 @babytrapperdiaz @watchyourbuck

@lyricfulloflight @tizniz @aroeddiediaz @estheticpotaeto @buckleybabyblues

@buddieswhvre @l0v3t0hat3y0u @mage8 @theautumnbard @lightningmcqueer8

@kultiras @inell @mrs-f-darcy

As always, let me know if you'd like to be added to my writing updates tags :)

[mlmxreader]

The Other Changretta | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "You can start by trying to get closer to me - I don't bite" ❞

: ̗̀➛ Alfie knows its wrong, but he can't help but to find himself drawn to Luca Changretta's brother.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, flirting

•───────────────★•♛��★──────────────•

As the adopted brother of Luca Changretta, him and Angel made sure that you grew up learning the same things about the family business that they did; you and Luca were closer, mostly because he wanted you to take over after him, partially because you were good at charming people as well.

You could hold negotiations and always walk away with more than what you were meant to; it came naturally to you, and Luca noticed from a young age that you had a lot of potential.

But years later, that potential came in handy.

Camden wasn't as bad as he had made it sound, and when you sat down in the office, you couldn't help but to smile at the man across from you; heavily tattooed, he had a sadness to his eyes that you had only seen on the frontlines during the war, and you knew it well.

He tried to hide it with his beard and his hat tilted slightly forward to keep the light from his eyes, but you still managed to find it easily. You leaned back, clearing your throat as you sighed and dared to pull the folder from your pocket, tossing it onto his desk.

"My brother sends his regards," you started, "and hopes that you'll accept his apologies for not being here. He had to tend to our father."

He nodded slowly, looking you up and down and humming softly. "So he sent you?"

"I can assure you, Mister Solomons," you started, "my brother wouldn't have sent me if he didn't trust me."

"Ain't that," Solomons mused. "You ain't arrogant like he is. My boys told me you went 'round fuckin' shakin' their hands."

"You give as much respect to the King as you do his men," you told him with a curt nod. "Learned that in the war... why have enemies, when you can have friends, right?"

He smiled, raising his brows as he leaned back. "The war?"

"Yessir," you nodded curtly. "I fought in Doiran, and the Eastern Front."

"East?" Solomons scoffed. "With or against the ruskies?"

"Neither," you told him. "Heard what happened to them in Osowiec, but... that was the closest to them I ever got."

Solomons noddedly slowly, and you could tell that he was warming up slightly; a fellow war veteran, it was easier for him to understand. "And now you're here. Big ray of fuckin' sunshine."

"And now I'm here," you sighed. "You served, didn't you?"

"Western Front," he confirmed. "Somme."

"Right," you said softly. "Awful business, that was... look, Mister Solomons, I'll be honest - Luca doesn't think this is worth the time. He thinks you're full of shit and that you'll stab us in the back the second you get the chance."

"He's right."

"He is," you nodded. "But Luca's a sly fox. You let him into the hen house, and you're not gonna get any eggs, if you catch my drift? I get it, y'know, you're protecting your people - I admire it. My brother doesn't get it."

"Did he serve?"

"No, Sir," you shook your head. "He doesn't get it. He never will. You get into bed with him, you're fucked."

"So what?" Solomons asked with a quirked brow. "I get into bed with you?"

"I wouldn't say no," you hummed. "You're certainly handsome enough."

He licked his lips as he grinned. At least you were honest and you got to the point, too many people tried to beat around the bush and flatter him - but you went straight for his throat, and you weren't going to let go any time soon. He nodded slowly, gesturing for you to get closer.

"Alright, Mister Changretta," he agreed. "I'll get into bed with you."

You smiled, raising your brows. "Tell me where to begin."

"You can start by trying to get closer to me - I don't bite," Solomons smiled. "You can bite as much as you like, though."

"I'd leave my mark on you," you whispered, moving your chair around so that you were sat right next to him, his knee pressed against yours.

"I wouldn't complain," Solomons murmured. "You ain't at all like the other cunts who walk in here, y'know."

"I'm not like anyone you've ever met," you whispered. "I can promise you that, Mister Solomons."

Pulling you onto his lap, he hummed as he let you settle your weight against him. "It's Alfie. No need for fuckin' formalities now."

"Alfie," you whispered, running your hands up and down his chest. "Alfred?"

"Only my mum calls me that," he chuckled. "Tell me - how long you in Camden for?"

You sighed as you tried to think. "I gotta be back to my brothers on the sixth."

"Two weeks," Alfie murmured. "I'm sure we can get to know each other more than well enough to decide on a deal to keep your fuckin' brother's mouth shut - can't we?"

"Absolutelty," you agreed. "Two weeks, we'll have plenty of time to negotiate."

Alfie couldn't place his finger on it, in all honesty; maybe it was the way you actually understood what had happened during the war, maybe it was just your looks and your honesty.

But he hated the thought of sending you away once the meeting had concluded; he wanted to know you better, he wanted to know more about the real you - not the business side. He licked his lips, chewing at the inside of his lip. He knew someone like you during the war, confident and suave, smart and quick... maybe that's what it was.

"Alright," Alfie started, "on your way out, go an' see Ollie. He's gonna give you my home address. Be there by eight tonight, yeah?"

"A social call?" You grinned. "Already?"

"Yeah, well, call it fuckin' soldier's intuition, but I have a feelin' you're a lot more than just a fuckin' Changretta," he told you. "My mum says to trust my gut, so... eight sharp, yeah?"

You nodded. "Eight o'clock sharp. I'll be there."

"Atta boy." He praised, having no clue of the fluttering feeling those two words invoked in your stomach.

[84reedsy]

[wrestlingarsenal]

Here is a brief Tag Team scene featuring young Curt Hennig playing Face-in-Peril to a pair of blond Heels known as "The Army" (Buddy Rose and Rip Oliver.)

The best thing about Curt's punishment and humiliation is the presence of his father, Larry "The Axe" Henning, his Tag Team partner. Big Daddy Hennig is forced to watch from outside the ropes as the blond bullies dominate and double-team his boy. They try to break his arm, kicking him like a rented mule. They eventually wipe him out with an illegal Two-on-One Shoulder Breaker. What humiliation -- to be owned and defeated like that right in front of your father, who is looking on with frustration and disappointment.

The ref pays careful attention to Larry Hennig, keeping the veteran outside the ropes in compliance with the rules. But somehow the ref doesn't see -- or doesn't bother calling out -- the blatant double-teaming by the cheating bastards! Meanwhile Mr. Hennig is fuming, like those Little League fathers who insist their golden boy should've been safe at first base.

[meyerlansky]

i love that jack just looms over curt through the whole fight like a buzzard who's been roped into becoming the world's most exhausted mother hen

[basilone]

Ooo maybe 25. Gentle with Brady? Would love to see some more of your writing on this blog again !!

Lovely anon, both yourself and @mercurygray had a similar thought... and I thought, well, why not combine the two? I hope y'all don't mind! 💙 It's been lovely to experiment more in the MotA-side of things writing-wise for sure. 😊

golden & gentle

He never liked hospitals much. John supposes most people don’t – too many tragedies – but it’s the antiseptic that gets to him most. He sniffs loudly. Brushes his tickling nose with his uninjured hand, then sniffs again. Lemmons uses something similar in the planes sometimes. Scrubs them clean. It’s got John sneezing so much that Curt keeps joking about him being allergic to the cockpit.

Kept joking.

He exhales past the suckerpunch that landed entirely too close to his gut. Supposes it’s a small mercy he didn’t say it out loud this time. The dead need to stay dead. Need to be buried somewhere in the past, in some unmarked memories, lest they become ghosts to the living. As far as hospitals go, they’re as near to ghosts as he can tread.

“Take a seat, Captain,” he hears somewhere to his left. “Will be just a minute.”

John makes the mistake of turning into the voice’s direction. There’s a familiar cadence to its lilt, though softer than his memories of it would normally allow. He spies dark hair pulled back beneath a nurse’s cap, dark eyes to match, and one hell of a familiar button nose. Takes a step back when he registers the dimple in her chin. Almost knocks the chair over in his haste to put more distance between himself and… and… and that woman.

That woman actually smiles, though, which gives him pause. “I see you’ve met Ida.” It’s not quite a question, and if it is it sounds like one she already knows the answer to. “My twin sister,” she clarifies, clearly registering his answering frown. “Cressida Dorrance-Jones, and she’ll never make you forget that name while you’re at her table?”

John snaps his fingers. “Her, yes,” he agrees, feeling a cold shiver course over his back at the mere mention of that particular interrogator. “Apologies, Lieutenant Dorrance-Jones, I didn’t realize she has a sister. Let alone a twin.”

“And that, Captain, is exactly why she and I don’t do the same job. You can drop the Dorrance part of the name with me, by the way. Plenty of those around here already, each more insufferable than the last, and I’m as far from the golden child status in my family as a girl’s ever gonna get. Take a seat, why don’t ya? Let me get a good look at that hand of yours.”

“It’s just a scrape,” he minimizes as he sinks down on the chair.

“With the way you lot work,” she says, clearly not quite believing him if the stash of supplies she dumps on the nearby table is anything to go by, “you would still call it a scrape if half your hand was in danger of falling off. No offense, sir.”

“None taken, Lieutenant Jones.” He knows for a fact that Cleven would be one of those fellows. Hell, the man would probably not see a hospital’s insides for himself at all if DeMarco wasn’t such an effective mother hen. “Plane’s damage was a little sharper than it looked, and I wasn’t wearing my gloves anymore.”

Her hand is warmer than his. Her touch far softer than her twin’s would have been. Gentle, even, with the way she presses down around the wound and retracts the moment it begins to sting. John hisses through his teeth when her little finger dances too close to the part that’s been coloring every shade of red and purple conceivable.

“You banged this up real good, Captain…?”

“Brady. John Brady.”

Her answering smile takes the sting out of her touch just a little. “Well, Captain Brady, you’ve got a sweet bruise here. Gonna be a bit of a rainbow there for a while. Scrape’s not too ugly, won’t need stitches,” she assesses with a well-practiced eye, “but you’re gonna need to keep it clean. You come see me before you fly, all right?”

“Sure?”

“I’ll bandage it up when you go up there. Get you a bigger glove, too.” She snorts. “Last time a fella had a scrape like this, he tried to worm his big hand into his little leather glove. I just about had kittens seein’ that, lemme tell ya!”

John winces. “That sounds ill-advised.”

“I know, right? Some fellas are just like that, sir.” A shrug. Another smile. “Can’t do much about that except yell at them, I suppose. I can tell you’re smarter than that, though. Bet you’re gonna be right as rain once we get this cleaned out.”

“And I can fly with this?” he checks, flexing his hand a little despite the pain. “You’re sure?”

“Seen worse. And you’re needed up there, ain’t ya?”

Until I, too, become a ghost to the living. “So people tell me,” he says, pushing all thoughts of a haunting back to his mind’s furthest recesses. He offers her a thin, wan smile of his own. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” she warns, wet cloth in hand. His nose almost twitches at the scent that’s wafting up at him. “This is gonna sting like a motherfucker, sir, ain’t no other way to say that.”

“Appreciate the warning, Lieutenant.”

“I try to be good about that, sir. Them fellas who come in with the frostbite always appreciate it, too. Least you ain’t got that, that’d be somethin’ different to treat…”

Lieutenant Jones, unlike her sister, is an anecdotal talker pulling stories out of her mouth the way a magician would pull a rabbit out of a hat. She hardly seems to expect answers to all of it, though she goes through the niceties spiel of where ya from I’m from Georgia ooooh New York state how fancy and exclaims real-not-feigned excitement about his college classes. John lets the chatter wash over him as he chews on the inside of his cheek to keep the pain in check.

“You’d do all right as an interrogator,” he allows, once she’s managed to pull half his family history to the forefront of the conversation. “I’d already forgotten I’d scraped my thumb on that bike two summers ago until you asked me about that scar just now!”

“I would,” she snorts, “but can you imagine Ida as a nurse? That’s what I thought”– she laughs to his answering shudder –“so I’m right where I should be. As, it seems, are you.”

He can only hope that’s true.

[fvriva]

tried to keep the genders pretty even here. propaganda under the cut!

Iskandar is extremely tall, buff, and generally logical and stoic with a bit of a temper. She's still coming to grips with her sexuality and struggles with vulnerability, but once you can get her in a mood she really melts like butter. Covered in extremely hot multicolored scars that glow. Prophetically destined to become a milf

Bikkri is a curt but highly intelligent Asura scientist currently adapting to a demon core in their chest, which gives them some monstrous qualities. Has a tendency to push themself too far. Extremely thoughtful and will remember everything you tell them about yourself and your interests, acting on it when you least expect it.

Newt is a bit of a plain-jane everyman, but he has a heart of gold. He believes in you. You've got this. He's your dad now!

Sibyl has experienced a lot of sorrow throughout her two lives, but maintains a degree of warm serenity despite the horrors. Broods like a hen. Was a freak back in her prime.

Alrich honestly never really knows what's going on but is just happy to be here at any given point. They're living life out of chronological order after spending their formative years, similarly achronologically, in a time loop. They're easygoing as it comes, and playful, but not naive.

Razza is grizzled, irreverent, keen, and hardheaded. One of my three commanders in my Triumvirate, she's also the representative for the Whispers and chief spearhead on all things Elder Dragons. A little bit clingy but hates admitting it.

V'rylla was a hero from the previous age, an enchantress wed to the Chosen One that took advantage of the war in heaven to join their ranks as an angel herself. She's conniving, adaptable, duplicitous, a temptress, and intoxicating. She's got a kid, somewhere. She can do freaky body horror shit.

Baraquathor is chronically fatigued, seems a hapless fool, and has a short attention span for an elf, but he plays up a lot of his weaknesses in order to disguise the fact that he's in charge of every situation. He's really, really convincing about it.

Fvriva is power hungry and craves eldritch knowledge beyond what is capable of being understood and comprehended to an unhealthy degree. As such, she tends to gravitate towards positions of cosmic power, and tends to step over whoever she has to in order to taste the most forbidden of fruits. Highly variable in a relationship, but it does tend to bring out the best and most brilliant in her.

Baphy is sweet but plagued by melancholy all her life. She's very quiet and likes to paint in her free time. Works as a fabric merchant. Recently had a miscarriage; wants kids still.