#john egan x gale cleven

[antiquitea]

masters of the air: a summary

[troublebastard]

'reckless driver'

[luckydeuce]

It’s a bit of a shitty name, if he’s being honest. It matches Bucky’s, just like that cunty little moustache of his. It’s a name for an American comic book superhero and for a brothel-keeper at once.

“Buck?” he tries. Weighs the sound on his tongue, lets it pop between his lips, slide down his throat. He shrugs. Fuck it, whatever. He’ll take it. “Okay, Bucky,” he hears himself say. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Bucky laughs, then, leaning in so close that his breath brushes the shell of Gale’s ear. Something loud and stupid pitches in Gale’s heart, high like a whistle. Say yes, it screams. Say yes, come on. Say yes.

“You’re here with Neil, aren’t you?” Bucky asks, then quickly adds before Gale can respond, “Wait, don’t answer. Just nod for yes.”

It’s so sudden, the change. The way Bucky’s smile becomes roguish, predatory. It’s like he’s out on a hunt and just caught a whiff of something good.

(Gale realises: he is the good thing.) Gale’s never been this attracted to a stranger he’s met in a club. To a stranger he’s met anywhere. Maybe he’s never been this attracted to anyone in his entire life.

He nods.

[sometimesijustfeellikescreaming]

Apparently, Boot Camp Doesn't Have Lessons in Subtlety

Rating: T - Word Count: 3.5k

Read on Ao3

SUMMARY:

Benny DeMarco doesn't get paid enough to sleep in the same barrack as the Bucks at the POW camp in the winter months once everyone has to start sharing bunks…

Buck and Bucky are sharing a bunk and let's just say they are not subtle about anything that is going on in that bed. If anyone was oblivious to the feelings going on between the two of them before, it's never been more obvious than now.

Benny DeMarco is pretty over it, but he'll also defend them to his dying breath. Oh, and he's taken to gossiping about them with John Brady.

OR

A companion fic to my 5+1 Clegan bedsharing fic In your arms (I think I might survive) giving a humorous outsider perspective from the men of the 100th and those sharing the barrack with Buck and Bucky.

Benny DeMarco does not get paid enough to put up with petty shit in life. Specifically, the Bucks. Specifically how not subtle they are about their obvious feelings for each other.

God, could they be more obvious?

It was obvious from the moment Bucky came walking in the gates asking if Buck made it. Sure, the two were best friends and that was a normal question, but anyone who has eyes could've seen the way Bucky's whole demeanor changed once he caught sight of his "best friend."

Best friends my ass.

Best something, though, that's for sure.

It's usually not horribly distracting or overt, though. They pass as friends most of the time unless Bucky is drunk, Benny supposes, or they're arguing in which case they act like a goddamn married couple. They fly under the radar pretty easily at the prisoner-of-war camp for that reason. No danger, really. The Nazis would have their heads for any kind of association. Everyone knows how the Germans feel about that sort of thing. It's not spoken about. Hell, most people everywhere don't look too kindly on it, but DeMarco's not the kind of man who thinks somebody should be murdered because of the way they're living their life. It's not like some happiness in another person is worthy of the death sentence. That's just madness. And Buck and Bucky are some of DeMarco's best friends, he could never feel hatred toward them.

Annoyance? So much. And in increasing amounts...

See, they were fine until it got cold at night then Benny is certain everyone in the whole of their Barracks became painfully aware of the fact that they were painfully in love with each other because — goddamn it — they were sleeping in the same bunk and if it wasn’t obvious before that the two were hopelessly smitten with each other, well, after that it certainly was.

For one thing, Buck Cleven has the worst case of puppy dog eyes that Benny has ever seen. He’s had it bad for a while now (since before Benny went down and was still back at base) with his little soft smiles that he thinks he hides so well and mostly (mostly!) only gives Bucky when he’s not looking — but everyone else is.

LORD give him strength.

And then there’s Bucky.

That man antagonizes the fuck out of Buck at any given chance and Benny doesn’t even think he realizes it. And the worst thing is they both seem to like it. It’s the strangest thing and Benny is sure that this is their way of flirting.

Which is entirely infuriating because it’s the most annoying thing in the universe to be around.

Bucky’s antics only increase once they start sharing a bunk, and Benny’s not sure if it has more to do with his close proximity to Buck or his general cabin fever due to the German winter at the Stalag. Whatever the cause, Bucky is incorrigible, and his behavior at times is nigh impossible to deal with. Though, Benny has to admit, the moments of levity do bring several of the other men out of their low moments more often than not, himself included, so he can’t fault Bucky too much for his attitude. Even when he pisses Benny off, he is a light in the dark camp.

Still makes Benny want to punch him in the face half the time, but in a brotherly way.

And if the two of them are bad during the daytime, that’s nothing compared to how transparent they are when they’re actually snuggled together at night.

Now, Benny’s not an idiot. It’s winter. Even he is sharing a bunk. It’s cold as fuck outside and even he understands the necessity to shove aside pride and get in close quarters with a buddy for the foreseeable future. But, the Bucks have taken this situation and turned it into a nightly slumber party.

After the lights turn out they stay up whispering and giggling with each other like a couple of school girls. He’s convinced if their hair grew out long enough while they were here in the camp, the two of them would spend the nights braiding each other’s.

It’s not like Benny is especially complaining that they’re talking. They’re not that loud; he can’t even tell what they’re saying and he’s not sure anyone could even those in the bunks closest to them (though, the men in the bunks above and below them soon found themselves migrating away due to the way the Bucks consistently stayed up talking at night— nobody wanted to be in their bubble. They were a whole world unto themselves. Again— not subtle). So, it’s not the volume that bothers Benny about their conversations at night. It’s not even really that he’s bothered. It’s just that, really? It’s every night. And maybe Benny can admit to being just a little jealous because it’s not like he has a best friend here. Or anyone to talk to. Not that he would really want someone so important to him to be experiencing the Stalag alongside him, but it’s significant that in a place like this, the Bucks have each other. They seem to be holding together better individually because they have one another.

It pisses Benny off as much as anything else does. It’s not rational, but it makes their voices carrying across the room at night irritate him. He tries not to let it get to him because it’s not fair that them having a sliver of happiness should make him feel that way, but he’s just a man.

He starts to get over it when he starts gossiping with John Brady who is in another barrack, but also from the 100th and knows as well as he does what it is to know the Bucks.

“Brady, you have no idea— Bucky has it so bad. Yesterday we were all sitting around shootin’ the shit after lunch and— I swear to god— Buck gave him this look like he was being an idiot — because he was — and Bucky just leaned in real close to him like none of the rest of us were even there, face almost touching, no sense of personal space whatsoever—“

“Well, hey, it’s not like Bucky’s ever been good at personal space with his buddies much anyway—"

“Yeah, but usually he’s drunk. But listen to this next bit. Bucky leans in real close to Buck, fully sober, grinning like an idiot, and says ‘I could show you a thing or two.’” Benny lets it hang in the air, waiting for Brady’s response. He has his hands splayed in a well? gesture. Brady’s eyebrows fly up and he leans toward Benny in interest.

“You were all talking about baseball, right? But still, that is… very not subtle. A blatant flirtation.”

“I know.”

“Buck must know that too, right?”

“Please, Buck is always flirting with Bucky. He just does it differently. That man is not subtle either.” Brady seems confused by that, not convinced.

“Wait, what do you mean, I’ve never seen him flirt with anyone. Doesn’t he have a girl back home he’s writing to? I thought they were pretty serious!”

Benny makes a placating gesture and leans back in his chair. “I’m not saying he’s not serious with his girl back home or anything, but the way he makes eyes at Bucky is not a made-up thing. And anyone who’s ever read the Bible knows a man can have more than one lover.”

“Benny!”

“I’m just saying…”

But the thing is, the Bucks really aren’t subtle. Like, at all.

And if Bucky thinks he’s quiet in any sense of the word then he’s a damn fool.

Buck may be able to keep quiet most of the time in the daylight, being that he keeps mostly to himself and is pretty private, not saying too much, and isn’t overtly given to random outbursts of sound. But Bucky? Bucky is the pure opposite of Buck. In the daytime, he’s impulsive and will make stray comments on any conversation whether he’s a part of it or not, whether it’s appropriate or not. The only time Benny has ever seen Bucky hold his tongue is when it’s in a professional capacity in front of a superior officer, and even then half the time Bucky is mouthing back and risking his career.

To say this translates to the situation with the Bucks is to say that the sky is blue.

Meaning in December everyone in the Barrack with the Bucks is aware there is a change in the nature of the relationship between the two of them.

They are not subtle. Heavy breathing and the occasional low moan from their bunk is not an unusual occurrence starting sometime in December with increasing frequency.

Nobody says anything about it.

The Bucks are both happier for the shift in their dynamic and anytime somebody goes to complain about it, all of the men from the 100th noticeably stiffen and glare. They’re protective of their Majors to the end. All of them would likely die for either of the Bucks, let alone sucker punch anyone who criticized the men for finding happiness in wartime.

It’s not really a conscious decision on Benny’s part, to defend the Bucks and their relationship, it’s just that any time he hears anyone start to get a little tetchy about it, he gets defensive. So what if they’re keeping you up a bit? Shove off, put some wool in your ears, and deal with it, it’s the damn war. Stop being such a damn child about it.

They don’t complain anymore after that.

It’s just the way it is after that. Nobody says anything about it to anyone else. If the 100th is this protective of the Majors for mere comments, imagine how they would be with an actual threat? DeMarco’s not sure the 100th would be able to leave a man alive. Or at least unscarred— probably scare a man into secrecy if they even thought about saying anything about their Majors.

The days surrounding Christmas are perhaps some of the most awkward days of DeMarco’s life. Not only because it’s Christmas and he’s trying to ignore the holiday, not get caught up in his complicated feelings about the Holy Day that he wished he was spending with family back home, or even on base in more favorable circumstances with more friends, but also because the Bucks are acting weird. There’s a definite tension between them like they’re fighting. It carries into the next day too and the itchy feeling permeates into the air like a bad smell and affects everyone. It’s frankly awful.

Even Brady, who’s not in the same Barracks takes note of it at meal time.

“Benny, why does it feel like Mom and Dad are fighting and it’s my fault?”

“Thank GOD I’m not the only one who noticed!”

“I mean, look at them! They’re sitting right across from each other, and they keep glancing at each other when the other isn’t looking and they’re all moping sad eyes! What is going on?”

“Fuck if I know, Brady.”

“How long until they make up?”

“God, I hope it’s soon.”

Brady has a wild smirk on his face. “My bets are on tomorrow night. By the next morning, they’ll be acting back to normal— just you see.” His eyes are like a madman and Benny can’t see any logical conclusion to what he’s saying.

“No way in hell, kid. I’ll take you on that.”

But when he wakes up the next morning to Bucky’s horrible renditions of the birthday song, Benny knows he’s beat. That little shit knew too much. If Benny had known today was Gale Cleven’s birthday he never would have doubted that the Bucks would reconcile today.

And reconcile they do.

By the end of the night, Benny is convinced anyone in the Barrack who didn’t already know about the Bucks surely does by now because—

They. Are. Not. Subtle.

Or QUIET.

GOD.

Sometimes Benny wishes he could bleach his brain.

He loves his friend, but really, the two of them are colossal idiots.

There was more moaning tonight than usual and the culprit was none other than Buck, which is honestly surprising too since he’s the quiet one between the two of them for most of his life. But it is his birthday.

And— goddamn it— Benny does not need to think about what kind of present Bucky must be giving Buck tonight. Because that is just way too much.

But really? REALLY? In front of all of them?

Benny DeMarco is not getting paid enough to deal with the Bucks.

Benny shuffles into the mess in the morning and sits at his usual table waiting for Brady with his head in his hands. When he sees the Bucks walk in shoulder to shoulder, practically glued to the hip once again, talking quietly about the fuck knows what Buck smiling with his eyes and Bucky practically vibrating out of his skin with wild energy—

Well, Benny knows he’s lost the bet.

Damn, Brady.

Speak of the devil. The younger man takes a seat at the table across from him with a smirk, inclining his head toward the smitten couple a ways down the mess, but doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, shut up, Brady, I got enough of an earful last night.”

Brady’s eyebrows go up comically high at that. “Wait, no! Now you have to dish!”

Benny glares. “As if you didn’t know already that it was Cleven’s birthday yesterday.”

Brady has the decency to look sheepish at that. “I’ll admit, I may have had some insider knowledge there— but how was I supposed to know you didn’t also know? All’s fair, and that.”

“Whatever. You really sure you want to hear this one, Brady?”

“Since when have you been shy about the exploits and drama of the Bucks, Benny?” He’s sure his face must be red. Benny glances over his shoulder where the men are sitting across from each other, chatting like the tension of the last few days never happened.

“Okay, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. They— well, obviously I don’t know anything for certain, but…”

“But what? Spit it out, Benny!”

Benny covers his eyes with his hand. Why is this so hard to say? Is it because it’s his friends? Is it because they’re men? He doesn’t know, but it feels so secretive like he can’t say it in the daylight. He takes the hand away and leans in a little closer. “Well, I’m pretty sure that Bucky got Buck off last night. There was so much moaning and most all of it was Buck. Some sort of birthday surprise. It’s never been like that before, ya know?”

Brady’s eyes go comically wide, his jaw falling slack just so. His eyes dart over Benny’s shoulder to where the Majors are. Benny wonders if he’s broken the poor kid. After a moment, the biggest grin Benny has ever seen splits Brady’s face.

“OH MY GOD! FINALLY!”

What.

Benny is so confused.

Several people around them look over at Brady’s outburst.

“Brady, shut up!” Benny hisses between clenched teeth.

“Sorry! Sorry, it’s just. I mean, it’s kinda romantic, innit? I mean, you know they met at bootcamp, right? They always tell stories about falling in love during hopeless circumstances and how love overcomes everything— to actually see it happen? I mean, c’mon! Look at them! They’re beating the odds! They keep surviving everything and even though they both got downed in Germany, they both made it here to the same place? Beating the odds again? How can I not be excited that their friendship destined for more is becoming that? And that they’re making it work despite that?” Brady’s staring off into the distance, a goofy-looking smile on his face, his eyes practically filled with hearts, and Benny—

Benny is just staring at him with a dumbfounded expression.

What the actual fuck is going on here.

Benny gets it on a superficial level. What the kid said makes sense in a girly romance-novel sort of way, but it doesn’t connect for him the same way. The Bucks are just his friends and they’re just two guys who like each other and maybe had sex last night way too close to him in the barracks.

Brady is something else.

“Right.”

After that, everything escalates. The Bucks are all over each other day and night it seems, and Brady is always either talking to Benny about them or hounding him for information. It’s like the Bucks bring Brady hope in the camp, but Benny is concerned that it’s bordering on obsessive. As for the Bucks themselves… well, they’re still flying under the radar during the day to anyone who doesn’t know them, but for the love of all that is holy Benny just must know them because it’s like all he can see are their little glances and nods. The way they leave things around for each other in hidden gestures that mean something to the other. How one of them will quirk an eyebrow or leave space for the other to fill.

He doesn’t mean to notice things. He’s trained his whole life to be an observant man! It’s in his nature to pick up on interpersonal dynamics. He could do this with his eyes closed. (At night he does this with his eyes closed and he wishes he could just knock himself unconscious but he swears those men are making out in the bunk across the way. He just knows it).

So, when it’s Valentine’s Day and Buck gets a letter from his sweet, sweet Marge and Buck absolutely shuts down, Benny really should have seen that coming. It surprises him that he didn’t see it coming, actually.

“Brady they’re acting like idiots.”

“Why? It’s Valentine’s Day! They’ve been dating since at least Buck’s birthday— what could possibly have happened?”

“That’s the thing, Brady. I have a theory.”

“Uh-oh. What is it.”

“Listen here, kid, I dunno how well you’ll take this.”

Brady’s eyebrows draw together.

“You don’t think they broke up on Valentine’s, do you?” Brady sounds horrified even at the thought. Before Benny can get in a word edgewise to calm him down, Brady is talking again. “But even if they did have some big blowout fight— Benny! They would never stay apart for long! Look at those two through everything! I mean—“

“Brady! That’s not it at all!”

All the stress instantly drops from Brady’s frame and is replaced with confusion in a moment.

“It’s not? Then… what is it.”

Benny heaves a sigh and runs a weary hand through his hair. Not paid enough for this…

“Listen, Buck got another letter from Marge today, right, ‘cause it’s Valentine’s and all, and Bucky got all sad about it—“

“Right! That makes sense.”

“Stop interrupting me.”

“Sorry!”

Benny glares.

“Sorry,” Brady says again, hands up in a peace offering.

After another moment of staring Brady down, Benny continues. “As I was saying, Bucky got all hurt about the letter, so my theory is that these two idiots,” Benny leans in closer and drops his voice for security’s sake as he continues, “have been dicking around this whole time and never actually talked about the fact that they’re both in love with each other.”

Brady gasps— loudly. He looks even more horrified than when he thought the Bucks broke up.

“NO WAY!”

“SHUT UP!” Benny hisses, looking around to make sure nobody is watching them. “But think about it for a minute.

“There’s no way they haven’t talked about it, Benny! You said so yourself, they’re always up at night talking and whispering— for hours sometimes!”

Benny gives him a wary look. “Yeah, but you honestly think either Buck or Bucky is willingly talking about their feelings for hours and hours?”

Brady purses his lips. “You got me there.”

There’s a beat of silence between them as they both sit with the revelation of it all.

“What happens now, then?”

“Well, one thing is for sure, if Bucky mopes around the barracks for one more goddamn minute I’ll lose my fucking mind, so I’m going to go tell Buck that his boyfriend is being an idiot. And frankly? That he is too.”

“Well, you better let me know how it goes tomorrow! This is SERIOUS, Benny!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure whether I want to or not, you’ll find a way to get it out of me.”

Brady does, in fact, get the story out of Benny the next day.

“OH MY GOD HE WHAT????”

“Brady, would you calm down? And shut the hell up? I just told you what happened!”

“I know, I know! I just can’t believe it. You really mean to tell me that Bucky was moping in his own bunk after MONTHS of sleeping in Buck’s and when Buck confronted him about it he stood at the foot and talked and then suddenly aggressively climbed on top of Bucky for some sexually charged fight until they eventually just started making out?”

“That’s what I just said, Brady, yes.”

Brady starts laughing and doesn’t stop until there are tears in the corners of his eyes.

“I’m also pretty sure they said I love you, but I never can actually hear them. Just from the context.”

“OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOD THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.”

“Brady SHUT UP!”

~Fin

[swifty-fox]

love song from a dog (Clegan postwar, ch3 13.5k)

“You really wanna know what it’s like to kiss a man John?” 

John sucks in a breath, stares up at the stars as if they might have a cure for the way his heartbeat seemed to kick like a rabbit in his chest. But they’re stars and they don’t care as they wink at him with cold distant cheer. Gale’s a solid warm line against his shoulder, slighter than he used to be, sharper where he never was and his breathing slow and calm. John worries a thumb over his mustache and shows his teeth to the stars.

Who’re you gonna tell, Pegasus?

“Sure, why not.” 

[getinthefuckingjaeger]

/taps mic/

I think that given the circumstances, now is probably a good time to reverse our hc and have Bucky treated gently and be made to understand how much he is loved and cherished and important, and to have Buck doing that for him. Let there be tenderness in the touches, the looks, the smiles.

[triggerlil]

i bet God heard you coming

It humbles Gale all over again how the world keeps going. When he'd returned home from the war and the horses at the Spencers' stables still nuzzled into his palm, when Marge died and the sun still set pink over the cottonwoods across the fields. Now John was gone, and the birds still trilled excitedly in the early morning mist.

1.9k, also on AO3

It's one of the first warm nights of Spring when Gale looks at John for the last time. Sure, he has photos: the one John gave him that's long since creased from the amount of times Gale's held it, the hoarded newspaper clippings with smudged smirks and group shots around the planes where faces blurred. But this was his last moment seeing him in person, and despite the sadness that claws at his chest and grips his heart, he wants to remember everything. The dark sweep of curls across John's forehead, the crooked part of his nose from an unclean break, the small scars and marks that pepper his skin (which only ever made him more handsome), long still eyelashes the ghosts of which seemed to flutter now against Gale’s cheek. He absentmindedly brushes the sensation away, the raw skin under his eyes stinging, and his hand comes away wet with tears. He would’ve figured he had none left. 

He needed to make this quiet moment count because of all the things he’d never committed to memory. The blue of John’s eyes was already fading, would the tenor of his laugh be next? Would it only be the horror that stayed? The way John looked with blood splattered across his face, the sound of his shouts when he’d woken panting, the smell of gunpowder and death? If nightmares were the only parts of John he could salvage, that was better than nothing. 

He settles a hand over where John’s are folded across his stomach, wedding ring new enough that parts still shine. He knows he’s cold, but Gale sucks in a breath when he touches John’s cheek. It's as cold as when they marched.

“How’d we get here, huh?” He whispers, shaky. He’s going to have to move on soon, let others take their time. No one would interrupt him, but he can’t handle it much longer anyhow. The silence closes in and the overwhelming perfume of flowers starts to make him feel sick. He wants to sit John up and hug him so tightly he breaks his ribs, shake him until his bones fall out so Gale can finally accept the truth. “You weren't supposed to die on me, John.” 

He feels panic start to rise in his throat, bile and tar, he takes one long last look: there are the freckles he’d counted, the strong jaw he’d held, lips he’d ran the pad of his thumb over, broad shoulders and arms that’d wrapped around him, a chest he’d once seen rise and fall. He wrenches himself away before he can choose to stay and walks quickly back through the wake and out to the lawn. He should say something to Josephine, but he doesn’t know how. He hadn’t wanted to be around anyone when Marge died—except John. It’s late, the funeral is tomorrow afternoon, he’ll say something then. Gale sits on the pavement and waits for Esther to say goodbye for the both of them. Not for the first time he wishes he smoked. He settles for taking a toothpick and fiddling it between his teeth. Esther touches his shoulder gently as the crickets start singing, and they drive back to their hotel without talking.

The air is cool the next morning when Gale goes for a jog. The shock has worn off somewhat; he no longer has an excuse to stay indoors and wallow. Regardless it wouldn’t be a good look, grown men don’t grieve like widows over their best friends. Even if said friend should’ve had plenty of time left. It humbles Gale all over again how the world keeps going. When he'd returned home from the war and the horses at the Spencers' stables still nuzzled into his palm, when Marge died and the sun still set pink over the cottonwoods across the fields. Now John is gone, and the birds still trill excitedly in the early morning mist. His feet still strike the ground as his breath turns ragged and he has to bend over at the side of the road to dry heave and swallow hungry gulps of air. He shuffles back to the hotel and into the shower, listens to Esther get up and start dressing, singing under her breath. His wet hair dripping onto the back of her neck, he helps with the clasp on the pearl necklace he’d given her before they left. He wants to feel some part of Marge beside him today. Esther had been hesitant to accept at first, but Gale knew Marge would’ve liked to see it worn again. She would’ve wanted him to be happy. Tough luck, he thinks. She and John had made that pretty difficult. 

A few years older than Gale, Esther had lost someone herself. Her first husband had been shot off one of the beaches in Normandy and swallowed by the ocean. It’s unfortunately part of why they work so well together—they both know this isn’t their one great love, but it’s comforting and safe. They’ve talked a lot about the past, but Esther doesn’t know about John. No one knows about John. No one will ever know about he and John. Esther fastens the buttons on his service dress when his hands start shaking too much and goes on tiptoe to place a kiss under his eye. He wants to tell her she looks beautiful in black, but can’t get the words out, so he just takes her hand and doesn’t let go, even as they drive. 

“He was a good man,” Gale ends up saying. “I’ll always remember him.” It’s lame in comparison to the vastness of both their grief, but Josephine still clasps his hands, hugs Esther, and thanks them for coming all this way. 

Then they’re moving on, and Gale is speaking consoling words he can’t hear to John’s two daughters, who have so much of his playfulness in their features that he can barely stand it. Esther is calmly leading him to their seats, saying something, and he nods despite not understanding anything. The first speech is lost to the rushing of blood in his ears. He’s supposed to get up and say something, he has his speech tucked into his breast pocket, but his vision has tunneled down to nothing but the casket and the knowledge that John is in it. 

Yesterday was the last day he’d ever see John again. Esther squeezes his hand and he realizes it’s his turn. He somehow stands in front of the familiar faces of grief and talks about how John helped him get through the war, as if that’s even half of it. He can’t say he wishes he’d been there when John was five and scraped both knees falling off his bike, just so he could shush and console him, or how he would’ve held ice to every black eye John got fighting after school. He can't say he remembers watching John smoke outside the barracks and the swoop in his stomach when everything clicked. He can’t explain that John is someone he’s always known, that when he died he took a part of Gale with him. His voice cracks only once, and then he’s in his seat and doesn't remember walking back over. Esther takes his hand again, and she will never know just how deep his grief goes. He will never tell her about nights in the Stalag when it was so cold everyone was sharing bunks, but those were also the only nights he actually slept, drifting off to the comforting length of John's body pressed against his. Gale will take to his own grave how John came running after Marge died, sleeping together again—cramped on the couch because Gale couldn’t stand to be in the master bedroom—or the one brief moment they’d had alone before John’s wedding, Gale straightening John’s collar and running his fingers through the scruff of hair at the nape of his neck. They will never have any of that again, and Gale somehow has to find a way to live with it. He has to survive for the both of them, now. 

The air feels muggy with promised rain as guests trickle out of the funeral home. The Egan grandchildren run around on the grass, unaware of what they’ve lost, and their innocent screams carve a hole out of his stomach. He stops to talk to some of the other men from the 100th who were able to come, but he mostly nods and avoids their pitying stares. They invite him out for drinks tonight, in John’s honor. Hotel checkout is at 0900, but  by now he’s used to late nights and early mornings. Esther breaks away from the group of wives that have found themselves huddled around Josephine, and they drive somewhere for a coffee. 

“Are you going out tonight, for John?” She asks him.

He shrugs, wishing his hands would burn to the sides of this chipped diner mug he's holding.

“It’s been so long since any of the girls have seen each other, Josephine wants us over for wine later. You’d figure she’d be too exhausted, but I think she likes the distraction.” 

“Her and John always had that in common.” 

Esther stifles a laugh and pretends to cough. 

“I said I’d only go if I wasn’t leaving you alone.” 

Gale weighs his options. Stay in with Esther and feel guilty and sorry for himself, lie just to be alone, or go out with the men who are the closest to understanding what he and John had. 

“I’ll probably go out, just for a bit.” 

She nods, sipping her coffee. One milk and one sugar as opposed to Gale’s black; Marge liked just milk, and John was always two milk and enough sugar to rot your teeth. The steam tickles his face and the coffee tastes like every funeral he’s attended—bitter yet familiar. They decide to spend what’s left of the day at the cinema, and he runs his thumb along Esther’s wrist as they sit in the dark. He gets absorbed enough in the story he forgets where he is, the repetitive touch lulling him into the past. He’s at the local theatre in Wyoming watching an unbearably sappy romance with Marge, he’s in the barracks next to John smiling slyly around a toothpick while they bump knees and the men shout profanity at the projection. 

He doesn’t drink that night, the first and last time will always be that swig from John’s flask on VE-Day, but when he’s walking home down unfamiliar streets he fishes out a cigarette he got from a stranger at the bar. He exhales slow, lets the cloud of smoke envelope him in the familiar scent he’d come to associate with John. The rush to his head is a bit like flying a plane, the calm reminiscent of the sky stretching out before him, and he understands how people get addicted. He walks past a church and squints in the dark. He’s never been very religious—doesn’t count the desperate prayers to any God listening while enemy territory rushed towards him—wasn’t raised on it and never bothered. He takes a shuddering inhale and watches the embers burning down towards his fingers. He gazes at the cross atop the roof, silhouetted against the starry sky, and asks God for one last favour: if there is a Heaven, can Bucky be there waiting for him? He wants to see him at the pearly gaits, smirk playing on his boyish face, as he asks Gale what took him so long.

[evita-shelby]

Ménage à Trois

for the ever patient @motley-baby who asked for a sequel to the Two Buck Special

John 'Bucky' Egan x Diane Shelby x Gale 'Buck' Cleven

cw: polyamory, throuple, m/m/f threesome, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, blowjobs, train sex(technically), p in v sex, anal sex, mirror sex, cuck kink, breeding kink, period typical attitudes, closeted gays, bisexuality, size difference, interracial couples, cum eating, handjobs, mentions of past sex escapades

(yes even i am surprised at how i wrote that much smut!)

She’d missed this.

Bucky’s arm wrapped around her with his hand tracing idle patterns on her shoulder as the lazed about in bed. Best pillow she’s ever had even if he is leaner and new scars marred his body.

God, Di’s never letting him go again.

“I missed two of your birthdays, almost thought I’d miss a third one.” He brushed her still damp hair from her face with his free hand and held her chin between his fingers with his thumb brushing the beauty mark she’s hated since she was a kid. But he loves it along with her mismatched eyes that made her stand out as if her tanned skin and mixed blood already didn’t do the trick.

“You were in a prison camp run by Nazis, the fact that you came back at all is equal to more than three birthday gifts, love.” she leans up to kiss him tenderly, not caring they’ve just woke and she used to complain about his morning breath before he was shot down.

The young witch needs him like she needs air, more than that as she tries and fails to get him to take things further. Doesn’t even allow her to suck or even rub his morning wood as he continues talking about her missed birthdays.

“Still, your future husband needs to make up for that. I promised to give you a gift as great as the one you gave me for mine.” He pulls back enough for her to see that glint in his perfect blue eyes that tells her exactly what he has in mind.

Not jewels or serenades or even flowers.

He wants to share her with Buck again. To make up for the birthdays they didn’t celebrate. And to celebrate a change in their relationship.

“My bed at the Townhouse is much bigger and Buck’s never been to London.” Diane points out. Not that this bed wasn’t big enough for the three of them, the heiress just wants to privacy to truly let go.

Besides, she had a great mirror where the two fucked like animals and got even more turned on by the depraved image in front of them. She’s wet at the thought of how their ménage à trois would look like.

Maybe after Di can ask Buck if Marjorie Spencer would like to make it their ménage à trois into a ménage à quatre.

They wouldn’t just be friends, even if Buck marries Marge and Di marries Bucky, it won’t change the fact that Marge will have to share him Bucky and Diane at some point.

She would understand if Marge decided against it, God knows Diane had a possessive streak she inherited from her mother. Strange enough it did not affect her budding relationship with Buck and knowing she shares John with him.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget the Mirror, gonna look like those Italian paintings your mom has.” He grinned at the thought of desecrating the small gallery her mother has there. “Me and Buck fucking the daylights out of you, covering and filling you with cum and then fucking you some more in the big old tub.”

“How soon can we leave?” Di asks knowing this will be the best trip to London she’s ever had. He could ask her to have Buck’s bastard and she’d say yes at this point.

“Leave that to me, princess.”

They can’t leave this place fast enough.

While John’s her fiancé and lover officially, it was not exactly a secret that Buck Cleven had been seen being less than proper with his best friend’s girl.

Hadn’t been intentional, just them missing Bucky and a few kisses turning to Di and Gale fucking against the same tree she and Bucky fucked that first night to stave off the loneliness.

“There’s a family friend that has two wives and the three of them love each other like this. Nothing to be ashamed of, just not as understood.” Diane had said as they had laid there in the little room when it happened again, and again, because no one else loved and missed Bucky like they did.

They hadn’t wanted to admit it, but they came to be more than just friends, not close like he and John were, but Diane’s place in his was almost equal to that of Marge, his future wife. Gale had not worked up the courage to say the words out loud, but the witch knew he too had fallen in love with her during these three months without Bucky.

John hadn’t cared about it, spoke of it as something that was bound to happen and said that was his intention from the moment, he suggested that threesome on his birthday.

We have an arrangement; he and Di had told those bold enough to ask why Gale was sporting the same marks Bucky wore with pride a month or so after his return. If they knew how they cut the middleman some nights at the Stalag, they’d be killed with a firing squad.

What would Marge react to the two other people joining their marriage? Would she be as understanding ---and enthusiastic--- about it like Diane, or would she call the police on them? Hell, Bucky and Diane would already be facing issues ‘cause her mother is Mexican, homosexuality was illegal and even their medals wouldn’t protect them.

He is broken out of those thoughts by his two lovers demanding his attention as John locks the cabin door behind him.

“Gonna be a long trip, isn’t it?” They would be taking a first-class cabin to London courtesy of Diane’s endless money, the three of them alone and Bucky with that shit eating grin of his.

The time at the camp had made all of them miserable and missing that release sex gave them. His times with his best friend and lover had yet to happen in a bed and not a cramped bottom bunk with a hand clamped over his mouth and another rubbing him out, but Bucky wanted it to be in a bed fit for a king.

“You wanted to take the scenic route, John. Maybe Lady Di wanted to see the inside of plane again.” Gale takes the plush seat across from them wishing they had just flown there instead of the two hour train ride.

“But we couldn’t have had the fun we just had in that cab, wouldn’t we?” Diane tossed her things carelessly away and for extra measure sat on Buck’s lap as easily as she did with Bucky.

Diane wore a short dress, risqué lingerie and been cooking by the time John had taken Gale’s hand and guided it to the wet spot in Di’s underwear while the cab driver remained unaware of what went on in the backseat. The coat over her lap had given them a semblance of privacy, but a lack of privacy was something that turned John on as well as Diane wearing nothing but his sheepskin.

Bucky’s hand had pulled his fiancée satin panties to the side and invited him to finger fuck her all the way to the station. She’d been sat between them, almost on John’s lap and held John’s hand for dear life as kept her mask of the pretty and posh Lady Di.

She’d called him Buck and her other hand rubbed Bucky’s dick over his trousers in tandem to the pace Gale fucked her.

Then once they boarded the train and Bucky sucked their girl’s cum from his fingers, he remembered Marge and how illegal their love and lust for each other was.

But he has no time to keep thinking of Marge’s hypothetical reactions when John orders Di to strip off her panties for her bad behavior and hand them over to him. Just like that first time they shared her, he takes a good whiff of the ruined satin.

Bucky used to joke about it back at the camp, how he could kill for her cum soaked panties at how desperate he was for her. He used to write the dirtiest things to her, mumbling under his breath what he wrote to himself and she’d write back, throwing around her name and money to make sure he and Buck got every tiny luxury she could send them.

She’d sent naughty photographs, a small can of Vaseline and an almost obvious blessing for the Buckies to do what they pleased. That last one had been more obvious than all the things they hid their letters to coordinate their escapes.

The Germans had once poured over those letters. The Kraut reading them turned red like the swastika on his uniform from just reading and only came with the conclusion that they were simply two degenerates writing to each other. John had looked very proud of himself as he pointed out his favorite lines as the soldier's smoking gun disappeared in the filth it came packed in.

Now Gale found his place in their relationship as if he always belonged there.

“No, we wouldn’t have.” The blond agrees as he begins to tease John by kissing their girl like he kissed Bucky when they were finally alone.

The last man he had imagined having a cuck kink was larger than life John. If those less than platonic and fraternal feelings and desires between them had surprised Gale, he had assumed nothing else would.

And then Buck learned John Clarence Egan gets turned on by seeing him flirt, fondle and fuck his sexy little witch.

“Di’s been a bad girl, Gale, told me not once has she sucked your soul through your cock like she does to me.” Bucky clarifies what his punishments have been about.

John had waxed poetically about the skill Di had when it came to giving head. Hardly spilled a drop, sometimes emptied his load back into his mouth and made him feel like she’d taken his soul out through his cock.

From then on, the men who heard of that particular letter assumed Di’s witch nickname came because the posh English nurse was that good of a slut.

“Hasn’t let me, didn’t even fuck my mouth on your birthday like you wanted him to and won’t let me now.” The Englishwoman breaks away and trails her manicured hand down his chest and to the appendage she’s wanted in her mouth since they met apparently.

“Didn’t know if you wanted me to fuck your girl’s face while you were in the Stalag.” They had fucked in various positions, he’d eaten her out again because the last time he’d been with a woman was her two and a half years ago, but because John loved the way she gave head Gale had abstained fearing he wouldn’t appreciate him fucking his girl’s face while he was still imprisoned.

“Like you even needed to ask, Buck, after everything we went through together and how well that vaseline served us those nights. Di is as much yours as she is mine.” His blue eyes are dark, hands itching to reach between his legs and enjoy the show he’s now authorized. “On your knees, Miss Shelby.”

The witch complies immediately with a “Yes, daddy.”

Gale doesn’t help her undo the fastenings on his uniform, watches John who watches her expertly undo them and release the cock that’s been inside her more than it had been inside Marge at this point. They had joked about needing to train him to call out the right name when Marjorie Spencer becomes Marjorie Cleven.

What would be worse, calling her Diane or calling her John, Buck asks himself as Diane shows him why their John loves her mouth so much.

He calls her Diane, Di, love, sweetheart as his hands thread themselves in her dark hair while he looks straight at Bucky who’s hand works furiously at his cock as John praises their girl for her stellar work.

“Go on, princess, give daddy a taste.” Bucky stops Di from swallowing and the sight of Diane kissing his cum down John’s throat had Gale hoping Diane’s money is enough to keep their tryst from banning them from ever using a train.

Somehow, they make it to the London townhouse without fucking the daylights out Diane.

It is as grand as he remembers, though London looks almost as if the war didn’t touch it as every repair went into place.

The eyes in Tommy Shelby’s portrait with his wife still makes his skin crawl, but now that he’s come back from hell to steal away his little girl, John smiles at the painting in the foyer and proceeds to desecrate the house with their new lover.

He kisses Diane who leads the way and turns to take Buck’s hand and kisses him like he’s been dying to do since they got off the train.

“The staff won’t tell.” Di assures Gale who is hesitant to relax under the watchful eyes of the man they learned was a feared gangster from the English prisoners.

Doesn’t care about things like that. Only cares that Di is careful with what she does so it won’t reflect badly on her. Which was why Bucky was going to marry her as soon as the ring is done.

Besides with all the fucking they’ll be doing here, whether it’s his or Gale’s the baby has to be born on the right side of the blanket.

“Hasn’t even fucked me and already he’s thinking about the two of you breeding me.” The witch laughs as she reveals what he’s thinking to their lover.

Gale almost stutters in response, man was as smooth as butter and yet when faced with the prospect one of the Egan kids could be a blonde cherub taking after the wrong Buck, he clammed up.

“Don’t worry, Gale, I take precautions. How do you think I didn’t receive you and Bucky with Rosemary Gail Egan?” Di reveals the name they came up with when they both got serious about each other and the cards showed they’d have two girls. Their firstborn would be named Rosemary after Rosemary Clooney and Gale Cleven.

“Besides, we’ll be married anyways even if Di’s tonics fail.” Bucky reassured his lover this was no issue. This seems to relax Buck as they get settled and have dinner together in the big empty house.

He doesn’t have much at home and Wisconsin isn’t anywhere close to London or the country house older than America she lives in, but he’ll give her the fucking moon if she wants it.

Bucky just wants a nice life with a bed big enough for three…or four if Marge wants in on the fun.

He’s a simple man with simple pleasures and right now he wants to fuck his two favorite people in front of a mirror straight from Versailles in a house owned by a gangster turned politician.

Dinner cannot end fast enough for him. But it does and before they know it the door is locked and all three are in various states of undress.

“We should get one of these for our place,” Di gestures to the gilded mirror placed directly in front of the bed.

If Mr. Shelby knew why his little girl displayed it that way, he was a wise man to ignore it.

“Haven’t married you yet and you’re already decorating our house, sweetheart.” Bucky finds the fancy lubricant she had in her drawer where she hides all the naughty things that made him forget she had told him Buck would be shot down on that next mission.

He had tried to forget everything, focus on the pleasure and forget the world was crashing down outside the fancy townhouse. To do that ritual of theirs where he comes inside her and Di drinks the tonic only when he is back home in her arms.

When he was shot down part of him hoped that she’d have more than just than the locket and his sheepskin to remember him by. His witch took it as a sign he’d come back, told him so when she confessed feeling disappointed when there was no baby.

John’s never wanted everything with a woman and now he’s gonna have it all and even some more with his Lady Di. Princess Di and Buck, his wife and their husband.

The tall and dark-haired man wants to fuck Gale and see the show of him ass fucking Buck while Buck fucks Di at the pace John sets for them.

Maybe even let the blond fuck their firstborn into the English Heiress. Di would come around to the idea eventually, loves Buck as much as she loves him. It would be the closest the Bucks could ever get to having a child between the two of them.

The results from tonight would be seen in nine months when the world sees whether their firstborn daughter takes after Bucky or Buck. Either way Rosemary Gail would be theirs.

It feels too good, Gale moving in tandem with John’s thrusts and fucking Diane like his life depended on it. They had never done it like this, in this angle and with a girl holding the bed railing for dear life as her pussy milks the blond’s dick.

The image in the mirror makes it all hotter as it fogs up from the heat it witnesses. God would strike them down for this, but where the fuck was he when the Nazis got their hands on him and all those innocents in Europe?

He didn’t believe in witchcraft and now he barely believed in God, but he believes in Di and Gale and that if this was wrong it wouldn’t feel so right.

When the first act is over, they lay together, tangled like a braid with Bucky in the middle because he’s big enough to hold the two of them to his chest. They had to spoon to fit all three of them that time years ago, here they have all the space to fit another person.

Maybe Di can romance Marge and make that a reality. Once Di and Bucky had fucked one of the many girls back at the base who’d kill to fuck him and the sight of his girl fucking another woman was almost as good as the sight of Gale ruining her pussy. Another blond in their bed would even things out.

“You’re the last man I could ever suspect of being into this.” The blond kissed him without any lingering shame as John prepared him for the most forbidden pleasure in the country.

“Men?” Bucky asked knowing it surprised others when the virile ladies man proved to be as queer as any of them. As if God’s gift to women couldn’t also be God’s gift to man.

“No, knew that from the moment you named me Buck,” Gale laughed and then clarified for his lovers, “Never thought you’d be into cuckolding.”

“Full of surprises, that one.” Di smiled, reached out to caress Buck as she assured him of his not-so-secret worry, “Marge will come around and our bed will be big enough to fit four when she does. Rosemary is John’s, so you have one less thing to worry about.”

“I love you.” Gale kissed John and then leaned over him to kiss Diane as the three of them try to forget the world wouldn’t care to even try to understand there was nothing wrong with love like theirs.

But at least Marjorie Cleven would and that is all that matters.

[vveissesfleisch]

❄️

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

From my completely bananas beloved modern AU featuring bartender/student!Gale and sex worker!John, a first meeting (apparently featuring Rosie and Croz again because I can't get enough of these guys dot jpg):

Gale was refilling a beer when the door burst open and one of the most gorgeous guys he had ever seen in his life strolled in. He was tall and broad with dark, windblown curls and a smile that outshone the sun.  He made a beeline for the bar, giving Gale a once-over that made him forget what he was doing until the cold rush of Budweiser spilling over his fingers reminded him.  “Shit,” he muttered, forgoing the current glass for a new one. He handed it to his customer, who was fortunately too engrossed in the game to clock Gale’s minor lust-driven meltdown. “Hey, barkeep,” said the handsome newcomer. He was seated next to Croz’s guy, who said something to him that made him laugh and elbow him in the side.  “What can I get you?” asked Gale, shoving a beer-damp dishrag into his back pocket. “Whiskey rocks,” he replied. It was impossible not to notice the striking blue of his eyes, or the fullness of his lips. “Please.” “I’ll do the same, please,” said Croz’s guy.  “Comin’ right up.” Gale was distinctly aware of two sets of eyes on him as he poured. The newcomer was clearly friends with Croz’s guy, who was obviously into guys, which had Gale wondering if the newcomer was also into guys. The thought of him staring because he wanted him made heat creep up the back of his neck.  Christ. He didn’t even know this guy’s name, and he was already mentally taking him home.  He composed himself enough to set their drinks down in front of them. “Here you are.” “Thanks.” The newcomer raised his glass to Gale before cheersing with his friend. “Haven’t seen you around here before.” “I just started last weekend,” said Gale.  “What’s your name?” “Gale.” “Gale.” He repeated his name slowly, like it was meant to be savored on his tongue. “I’m John.” “Good to meet you, John.” John nodded to Croz’s guy. “And this is Rosie.”  “Hey, Rosie. Good to meet you.” “Likewise,” said Rosie.  “Man.” John leaned back in his stool, and Gale did not stare at his thick thighs, spread wide, straining against helpless dark denim. “I’ve been coming here for, what is it, three years now? And I think I saw ‘em hire maybe one new person.” “Yeah,” supplied Rosie. “Croz.” “Right, right.” John was looking at Gale like he’d been invited to, raking his eyes over his body, taking in his black jeans, his white tee shirt, the leather cuffs on his wrists. The attention made him feel simultaneously self-conscious and emboldened, and above all else, more than a little insane.  He wanted John to like what he saw.  He was pretty sure that he did.  “Guess old man Harding got sick of working all those extra shifts himself,” said Rosie.  “He said he’s opening another spot in Williamsburg,” said Gale, moving down the bar to ring out a customer. “Hired me on so he could focus his time there.” John and Rosie pulled almost identical faces at one another and burst out laughing. “Well ain’t that fancy,” said John, taking a huge swig of his drink. His demeanor shifted as he turned towards Gale, a smolder in his eyes. “Not that I’m complaining. So far I’m a huge fan of the new help.” “John,” barked an ornery older man with long white hair pulled back in a ponytail at the opposite end of the bar. “Quit flirting with the new guy, some of us need more beer.” John leaned onto the bar and called down, “Sorry, Hank!” He gave Gale an absolutely blinding smile and shrugged, not sorry at all.

[thyknife]

Swim to me, Sail to me

Chapter: 1 - Prologue

Fandom: Masters of the Air

Pairing: John “Bucky” Egan/Gale “Buck” Cleven

Rated: T (for now)

Summary:

At first John thinks he must have imagined it, but it happens again: a fierce glint, the moonlight catching on something slick and wet flapping intermittently beneath the pier.

[antiquitea]

─── 𝐤𝐚𝐲𝐟𝐚𝐛𝐞.

kay·fabe /ˈkeɪ.feɪb/ (noun · ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀʟ) (in professional wrestling) the fact or convention of presenting staged performances as genuine or authentic.

1992

former tag team champions, john egan and gale cleven, have had a long-standing feud since the dissolution of their baby face faction in the name of shaking things up in the world wrestling association. while cleven continues to perform as a face, egan has turned heel, much to the enjoyment of wrestling fans the world over who praise him as being one of the greatest antagonists in the world of wrestling.

out of the ring, john and gale don't break kayfabe, maintaining the suspension of disbelief for the sake of entertainment. but what fans don't know is that this isn't necessarily kayfabe, the animosity between the two is real. on top of being wrestling partners, there was a behind the scenes romance that only a select few were privy to knowledge of, and with the end of their reign as tag team champs came the end of their relationship as well.

wrestling storylines have the potential to go on for years. do john and gale stand a chance of rewriting their own?

─── 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 ───

[austeenbootler]

The librarian

yall… librarían bucky and college student buck?

- buck frequents the campus library and there’s never anyone there so it’s his comfort spot.

- he’s best friend with old woman who works there … marge. she lets him keep the books more than usual

- he has his little corner near the window so he can watch the students as he reads or studies

- marge lets him sneak in coffee and snacks as long as he never makes a mess (ofc he doesn’t)

- then one day marge isn’t there but a pretty blue eyed brunette curly hair boy that’s wearing a librarian lanyard.

- change scares buck so he rushes off to his little corner

- “it’s fine… maybe she’s on vacation. just read your damn book”

- once he calms down and eases back into the groove with his little coffee the new boy comes over and he looks very nervous but is visibly trying to hide it.

- “i’m so sorry but there’s no food or drinks allowed in here…”

- buck wants to cry… “m-marge lets me have it.” and he hates how he stutters it out like some wimp.

- and bucky looks like he wants to cry himself. he hates confrontation but it’s his first day and he doesn’t wanna get in trouble. and buck looks strong and he doesn’t wanna be beat up. “um… well… i-i… will you clean up before you leave?”

- buck gives him a soft smile. “of course.”

————

buck gets used to buck and they even start talking more… bucky handed him tissues when he had to break the news that marge did indeed d*e.

buck even brings bucky coffee when he comes to study and turns out they take two classes together. and of course they start sitting with each other

few weeks in bucky asks buck to go to the pubs with him. buck hesitates cause he doesn’t like drinking but he goes cause bucky uses his puppy dog eyes.

that night gale freaks out about his none date date…

———-

omg yay headcannons? anyways this might actually become something? maybe?? who knows

peace love and joy 🩵

[sig-nifier]

Through the smoke, and the noise, and the grief, there’s Bucky. There’s blood all down the right side of his face, but his eyes are bright, and when he sees Gale his smile is even brighter. There are so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do, but there’s a crowd, and Gale doesn’t think he can find the right words anyway. Not here, not now. What he settles on is eloquent, and he hopes it portrays all of the feeling he puts behind it: “What took you so long?” Bucky’s grin widens. He shrugs his shoulders up to his ears and gestures back towards the poor excuse of a plane. “We took a detour,” he says simply. - The one where Bucky is temporarily MIA, and Gale loses his mind.

if i had a pound for every blonde nd brunnete army ship with a guy u call buck or bucky i'd have 2 pounds!

enjoy

[aestheticsuwu]

I been receiving some inbox’s asking me if my requests are still open and I decided to make a post so I can tell everyone and not just with every individual ask so it could be quick.

The answer is YES.

Leave me the ship and the au/theme and your user if you want to be tagged, if your anonymous I’ll just upload with the ask!!!

I’m in a writers block, unfortunately, so I’m stuck doing moodboards. Leave your requests!!! 🙏🙏 I’ll make them as soon as possible!!!

I’ll consider any other ships that are not tagged below! I’m open to any new ships or olds ones that I stopped shipping!

[sometimesijustfeellikescreaming]

Clegan 5+1

Soooooo I'm writing a Clegan bunk-sharing 5+1 and I'm debating whether to post it as a one-shot or in its individual parts. I'm not sure which would be better reading-wise. It's looking like it may be around 15k when it's done (I only have the first one and half of the second one done so far).

As a reader, what would you prefer?

[livelaughlove-write]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024) Rating: Mature Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, John Brady/Bernard "Benny" DeMarco Characters: Gale "Buck" Cleven, John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, Bernard "Benny" DeMarco, John Brady (Masters of the Air), Charles "Crank" Cruikshank, Frank D. Murphy (1921-2007), Howard "Hambone" Hamilton, German Guards, Gustav Simoleit, Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal Additional Tags: dark themes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Gale Cleven Whump, John Egan Whump, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, prisoners of war, Historical Inaccuracies, Established Relationship, Gale needs a hug, John Needs A Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Stalag Luft III (Masters of the Air), Angst, Eventual Comfort, the boys try their best, Whump, Humiliation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt John Egan, Hurt Gale Cleven, Whipping, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Idiots in Love Summary:

Gale makes a deal with the guards of Stalag Luft III, offering himself up to their use and pleasure, to protect the boys (mostly John) from being at their mercy.