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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 5 months ago

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Heart of Gold (5 Times Gale's Heart Gives Out And +1 time Ken's Does) Barbed Wire Hearts Universe - Chapter One

God I can't believe I can finally publish this after so many problems preventing me from both writing and editing it, it feels like it's been too long! But here's the next instalment in the BWH universe. Only one chapter written and edited so far, but I'll be updating when I can with more. This is to add some much needed little details and lore for upcoming plot fics in this series.

For now though, enjoy! This chapter is only a short one, just to give the general start to the fic, but following chapters will be a little bit longer as the story continues (and don't worry, the big plot fics will be longer as always haha)

@swifty-fox @onyxsboxes @stoneinyourshoe @carnevol @trashbag-baby666 @slowsweetlove

Ken stared at the little box that Curt was brandishing in front of himself with a raised brow, taking in the self-satisfied smirk behind still fading clown paint from the day before on the other man’s face. He let the exasperated sigh escape him from where it had been building since Curt first showed him the box.

“You can’t be serious, Curt.”

Curt wiggled the box at him, the item inside rattling gently in response as Curt’s smirk grew. “Oh I’m deadly serious,”

Ken eyed him, judgment clearly written across his own expression as he snatched the box from Curt’s fingers. He looked down at the box, eyes scanning over the words with another sigh, albeit gentler than the one before.

“You’re gonna give Gale a Fitbit, because you wanna, and I quote ‘record the uptight bastard’s stress and heart rate because it would be funny’?”

Curt shrugged nonchalantly, reaching out and plucking the box from Ken’s fingers with the tip of his tongue caught between his front teeth.

“Yes. I think you’re missing the whole point here, Kenny. Have you seen the guy? Man is one big walking ball of stress, especially around Bucky and his bullshit, and all he says is that he’s ‘fine’.”

“So you just wanna prove him wrong so that you have something to brag about, basically?”

Ken raises one eyebrow at Curt and watches as the other gapes slightly, expression turning chastised but no less mischievous underneath Ken’s scrutiny. A hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Basically,” Curt affirms, looking slightly sheepish, and Ken can’t help the knowing smile that curves his lips.

“Uh-huh,” Ken hums. He stares down at the box again where Curt is starting to peel the edges of the tape holding it closed with the edge of his fingernail.

Curt pauses and glances up at Ken through his lashes, scanning over Ken’s face before his shoulders sag and he rolls his eyes.

“Look, I’m not trying to be a dick. Call it genuine curiosity and slight worry for the sake of one of my best friends and his well-being.”

“With bragging rights,” Ken tacks on with his own answering eye roll.

Curt laughs, goes back to picking at the tape again with a wide grin. “Exactly! See? Now we’re getting on the same page here, Kenny my boy.”

Ken breathes out through his nostrils, watching Curt work away at the tape until he flicks the opening flap upwards and starts to extract the packaging holding the little black watch from its confines.

Curt holds it up, like a prize dangling from his thumb and pointer and looks at Ken with no less pride on his face. “You can even hook it up to your work phone so you have 24/7 access to Gale’s heart rate. Just in case there ever is actually cause for concern. It’s got a little alarm setting and everything.”

He waggles the device towards Ken’s face, eyebrows rising and falling in a suggestive gesture until Ken once again snatches it from Curt’s hold.

The little watch is cool in his palm, and he turns it over to observe it before glancing up at Curt again, lips pursed.

As much as Ken wouldn’t put name or face to it, he couldn’t deny that there had been a few times through the course of getting to know the men in their circuit that he had observed and noticed that Gale, in particular, had a bit more weight sitting on his shoulders in comparison to most of the others.

When he had first met the blond cowboy, all done up in his roping get-up with his stoic steel-hard expression and sizeable buckle sitting on his belt, Ken could admit that even though he wasn’t a competitor himself, that he couldn’t help but be a little bit intimidated by the air that Gale often exuded. Especially when in competition mode.

Despite only being a rodeo EMT, it was hard to come by anyone involved in the circuit that hadn’t at least heard of the great Gale Cleven and his achievements in the arena. Coupled with the known talk that the guy was ‘all work and no play’ and advice of ‘just don’t get in his way and you won’t have to worry’, Ken had truthfully dreaded the day that he would have to meet the man and have him under his jurisdiction of care and medical expertise.

The day he had met him, Ken felt like the world was trying to swallow him whole as he was faced with meeting most of the crew that he would be looking out for and tending to if any of them sustained injuries in the arena. He had shaken hands and introduced himself a number of times, friendly smiles and warmth being directed at him as easy as breathing before the group had all but parted in the tail end of their greetings and Ken was faced with Gale.

The blond cowboy had walked up to Ken with his shoulders straight, blue eyes questioning while also exuding an air of careful scrutinization as he’d looked Ken up and down, and Ken had felt like he was about to be snapped up like a bird between the jaws of a cat and crushed between sharper than needle fangs.

He’d stared at Gale, not game enough to break eye contact as the other thrusted his hand out in Ken’s direction, still adorned with worn but expensive looking brown leather gloves. The strength and power behind Gale’s grip alone once he’d taken his hand in to a firm handshake was enough to have him shivering in his sneakers.

But as Gale had introduced himself, Ken had watched as a slight look of warm fondness had broken through Gale’s expression, lips curving upwards in to a perfect smile full of straight white teeth directed at him, and felt his shoulders relax from their timid posture.

“Welcome to the crew, Ken,” Gale had said to him, words soft and sweet and dripping with unintentional charm. “Heard you’re one of the best we could possibly ask for. You might have your work cut out for you though, with this band of hooligans.”

Ken couldn’t help the smile that had slowly crept its way on to his own face in answer to Gale’s obvious attempt at easing his nerves, and he had felt his shoulders sag as Gale had dropped his hand, but feeling no less welcome.

It was from that point forward that a sort of easy friendship had blossomed between Gale and himself, the terrifying tales of strict and hard-faced Gale Cleven all but melting away in his mind until any time he heard Gale’s name whispered with unease from the mouths of any of the other competitors from different circuit teams made him smirk knowingly.

The guy was all bark and no bite, as far as Ken was concerned. At least when it was towards his own team, and he had come to realize that whenever Gale would be the first one to comfort or build up the confidence of the other boys without a second thought.

It was all a structured hierarchy, and Gale had been appointed the unquestioned leader of the group and the overseer to most of the happenings and organizing both between and during the rodeos that they travelled to and from over the course of the season.

It was with that unsanctioned leadership, though, that Ken could also see the immense strain heaped up on top of the cowboy’s shoulders in the thick of it all. And he would be unhesitant to admit that there had been a few times that he had observed Gale in the quieter moments where the weariness and need to keep on a brave noble façade was obviously eating away at him.

Especially once Ken realized that the group’s main bull rider John Bucky Egan was more than just a friend to Gale, and every time the man went in to that arena and sat on one of those great muscled animals, Gale turned a few shades whiter every time Bucky’s dismounts were a little less than graceful.

Ken had also noticed, through several different interactions both with himself and with other members of the group, that as much as Gale would unthinkingly dole out support and softness and strength, that when it came to himself, it was a completely different story.

He had noticed on more than one occasion the cowboy shying away from support directed at him, waved it off with a strained smile or an off handed comment that left Ken with a sour taste on his tongue and a worry settling in deep in his bones like a festering flame.

As much as Gale gave it, receiving it was a whole other ball game, and was met with such a conditioned resistance that Kenny often wondered what was laying in wait underneath Gale’s carefully composed surface. What scars were carefully concealed under a strong expression.

He was thankful for John in those moments, seeing Gale respond to Bucky’s carefully extended supports more than anyone else, but even then it was barely a sliver of open acceptance to the gentle touch, cards still close to his chest and roped back against him and away from prying eyes.

Ken looked back up to where Curt was still standing in front of him, now holding out the charger for the Fitbit and Ken’s work phone that had been sitting on the counter being waggled in his direction underneath an imploring look.

He stared at it for a few seconds, mind running through all the pros and cons and the precarious thought of ‘what could possibly go wrong’ cycling through his head, and let his shoulders sag with an exasperated sigh. He tried to ignore the gleaming smile Curt shot him as he took the charger and phone from his hand.

“Fine,” Ken gave in, switching on the phone and opening up the app store to download the accompanying app that would sync with the watch. “But I’m doing this purely for Gale’s well-being, and to give myself some piece of mind.”

Curt laughed, a smug but joyous lilt to its tone as he walked up to Ken and patted his shoulder. “Yeah you keep telling yourself that, Kenny.”

Ken rolled his eyes, a small smile working its way on to his lips as Curt pressed a loud smacking kiss against his cheek as the other made his way to the door of the trailer, swinging it open and stepping out to leave Ken to hooking up the devices.

“You’ve still got paint on your face, by the way!” Ken called out behind him as an afterthought before looking back down at his phone.

He could hear Curt’s laugh echo back to him from a small ways away outside.

“All part of the charm, baby!”

–

Surprisingly, Gale had accepted the watch from Ken without so much as a second thought, albeit a small look of question directed at him as the watch was passed into his hands. He had turned it over in quiet observance a few times, lips pursed and brows furrowed before he’d carefully pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and fastened it to the surprisingly delicate circle of his left wrist.

Ken couldn’t help the way it lifted a nervous air from his body and mind at Gale so trustingly taking the watch paired with Ken’s words of professional reassurance, and had to remind himself that as much as Curt had palmed the whole endeavour off with the pretense of it being a joke, it also gave Ken some peace of mind to now have a bit more of an insight into the medical signs of one of the most important cowboys in the team.

He also couldn’t deny that Curt’s curiosity had bled into him as well in the face of the act.

“Can’t say I ever really put much thought in to actually using one of these things,” Gale confessed to him, eyes still curious as he looked down at the face of the watch with interest. The time flashed back at him as he turned his wrist, experimenting with the movement of it a few times.

Tapping the face of it, the small screen cycled through his steps, distance travelled, energy burned, and finally the rate of his heart, which Ken couldn’t help but notice was currently sitting at a steady 89 as they spoke.

“You can thank Curt for that,” Ken chuckled, pointedly and casually adding in Curt as the culprit as well so he wasn’t the only one being thrown under the bus. “He figured it’d be a good idea to keep an eye on you fellas, your health and what-not seeing as how you’re all meant to be tip top athletes. And you’re one of the only ones who doesn’t actually have one.”

Gale looked up at him, a knowing smirk on the blonde's lips as he quirked one brow. “You mean Curt’s morbidly curious and just wanted something to brag about to John when I blow my top at him.”

Ken couldn’t help but laugh at Gale’s words, the sound punched out of him in surprise as Gale hazarded the guess and got it as close as he possibly could. He had had a feeling long before he’d even set up the watch that Buck would be clued in to exactly what was happening, especially once Ken name dropped Curt in the scheme.

“It’s alright Ken,” Gale assured him, smile still colouring his face as he winked. “I won’t let him know I’m on to him if you don’t.”

“Sweet,” Ken grinned, holding out a fist towards Gale in a silent ask for a fist bump which the cowboy gladly reciprocated without a second thought.

Gale gave another small look down at the watch as he let his hand fall back to his side, carefully pushing his sleeve down over it as it went to hide the little device from view.

“I’m actually a little curious myself,” Gale added on as an afterthought. “Might actually come in handy.”

Kenny nodded, casting his gaze over his shoulder towards the arena where Brady and Rosie were currently trotting their horses around in circles around a fake practice rig shaped like a steer. He could hear them laughing good-naturedly as they threw their ropes over it, joking amongst each other in friendly competition as Brady missed and Rosie whooped in triumph, arms coming up high in celebration.

Jack, Benny and Everett were perched up on the rails watching with smiles on their faces and chatting amongst themselves, Meatball at their feet chasing something in a patch of tall grass against one of the posts.

Ken pointed his chin in their direction. “This lot seems in a good mood today.”

Gale looked up to where Ken’s gaze was directed, and Ken couldn’t help but note the small fond smile that slipped on to Gale’s expression. Likened it to that of a proud parent looking at their unruly bunch of teenagers.

“Yeah it’s a lazy day today. Figured with more than a week until the next rodeo I’d back off and let them have their fun. Don’t need me breathing down their necks 24/7.”

Ken looked back at Gale with a questioning expression that he hoped Gale didn’t notice. Underneath the pride, Ken could sense a sudden hint of doubt mixed in Buck’s words, smile still evident but more muted as he stared over at the others. His blue eyes were slightly distant, and Ken felt his chest constrict just a little at the sight.

“I’m sure they’ll need your instruction sooner or later with how that’s going,” Ken tried, grinning as he turned to watch Brady expertly lasso Rosie around the middle with the other cowboy’s laughing squawk of offense. Brady’s replying laughter reached them seconds later with a shouted insult barely audible, and Ken could see the fond smile return to Buck’s expression.

Buck rested his hands against his hips with a gentle sigh, smiling up at Ken before dropping his eyes towards the ground. “Yep, yeah, I’d say you’re right.”

Ken saw a suddenly questioning frown pull at Buck’s brow as the other looked back up towards the arena, eyes scanning over the expanse of it, the stands behind and then flickering around. “Speaking of, you seen Curt or Bucky anywhere since earlier?”

Ken felt his eyes slightly widen in realization as Buck’s words sank in and a pit of innocent fear started to curl its way in to his gut.

“I can’t say I have, and I don’t know how I should be feeling about that,” Ken confessed to him with a grimace.

Buck blew out an exasperated breath, shoulders squaring as he tipped his hat at Ken with a smile before making his way past him. “Terrified, would be the correct term, I reckon.”

Ken couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him at Buck’s words as he watched the blond walk casually over to the others.

–

The sounds of the crowd spectating the rodeo from a small distance away reached Kenny as he took a long drag of his cigarette, smoke curling its way out in to the air on his exhale in a wispy array of patterns before disappearing into nothing. He adjusted his seat on the step at the back of the med van, the back doors open to reveal the sterile and organized inside, medical equipment stored carefully and tucked away ready at a moments notice if needed while the current rodeo was in full swing.

This one had been going on without so much as a hitch so far, which Ken and a few of the other EMTs were thankful for, leaving them meandering around outside the van without much to do to occupy their time besides talking amongst themselves or scrolling on their phones to pass the time.

They knew at some point they’d probably need to patch up a knee or do the mandatory check over for concussions or other types of damage, but they were taking the peace while they could and being lax in the moments they were afforded.

It left some room for a tiny hint of boredom to thread its way through, but Ken would rather feel that unconcerned drag of time over doing vital signs on a bull rider that got too big for his chaps or be knitting together another cowboy’s split open brow while trying to stem blood flow with a stern hand and hint of exasperation.

The audience noise crescendoed in to a flurry of whoops and hollers by a few octaves, but being where he was Ken couldn’t quite see what event was currently happening around the edges of the towering bleacher seats. It was only still halfway through the rodeo so he knew that nothing truly spectacular was happening at this point, and he was content to sit, sneaker propped up on the tow-ball of the van and scroll for a few moments on his socials while sucking down the last few dregs of what he guessed was his third cigarette of the day.

Thought on the disapproving glance that Curt would be sending his way if the other wasn’t currently out behind the bull chutes painted to the nines in clown makeup and baggy shorts and suspenders waiting to run in and save the day once the bull riders were performing.

Also thought on the way the other would tut in disgust but still pluck the still burning cigarette from his fingers before stealing a drag in the face of Ken’s knowing smirk.

Almost too lost in the depths of his thoughts as he brought the cigarette up towards his lips for another inhale, Ken couldn’t help the way he jumped, startled and nearly losing grip on the burning stick as a sudden continuous beeping blared at him from the pocket of his jacket.

Frowning, he propped the cigarette in between his lips and reached down to clumsily fish what he realized was his work phone from the deep pocket and pull it out.

It was only when the bright words of warning that the current connected device was picking up irregular rhythms did he also manage to look up in time to see Buck, pale faced and looking a little worse for wear stumbling from somewhere over towards the camp grounds in the distance before leaning one shaking arm up against a telegraph pole.

Distress was obvious in the tense line of the cowboy’s shoulders, shuddering on a deep inhale and face pointed towards the dirt with tightly squeezed eyes, and Ken quickly stubbed out his cigarette in to the grass by his shoe and flicked it away as he half rose, alert.

“Buck! You okay, man?” Ken called out, worry tainting the tone of his voice, hand that was holding the still beeping work phone tightening until he could feel the plastic creak underneath his grip.

He kept his eyes trained on Buck’s figure, worry seeping even further in to his awareness when the other only managed a haphazard glance in Ken’s direction, a gloved hand waving out in dismissal before he turned his eyes back to the ground at his feet, arm falling back against his side.

With a groan of effort, Ken hoisted himself up off of the step of the med van and started in Gale’s direction with purpose. He turned off the work phone, silencing the noise and shoving the device back in to his pocket without a second thought.

The closer he got to Buck, the more he could hear the ragged exhales the blond was attempting to get under control and see the trembling shudder wracking the other’s taut shoulders.

Ken reached up one hand, resting his palm on Gale’s shoulder and leaning down to try and catch Gale’s line of sight where it was currently still trained downwards, brows furrowed in obvious distress.

“Talk to me, buddy. What’s happening here?”

The professionalism that bled into Ken’s voice in the situation finally reached through to Buck, blue eyes glancing up to Ken’s face with a blank look that morphed into a humourless smile for a second or two before falling again.

“‘m fine, Kenny,” Gale huffed, shoulder trembling more violently underneath Ken’s hold for a fleeting moment. “Don’t gotta get all serious on me, now.”

Ken chuffed out a laugh, a bit disbelieving as his eyes raked over Gale’s shaken form. “You sure? Because from where I’m standing your words aren’t exactly hitting home for me, Chief.”

Gale flicked a dismissive hand in his direction again, body straightening marginally like he was trying to put Ken’s mind at a little bit more ease if he showed less weakness. It made Ken frown in reply, the minute beeping originating from underneath the cuff of Gale’s shirt where he knew the watch would be reaching his ears amidst the ambient sounds of the rodeo around them.

Gale sniffed, eyes flickering towards Ken again in what he could only name as chastised.

“Was wondering though,” Gale started, tilting his chin towards his sleeve as he brought up his other hand to pull it back and reveal the Fitbit. “That ain’t normal, yeah?”

Ken gave Buck an exasperated look before turning his attention to the face of the watch, and felt his eyes widen marginally but managed to conceal the sudden unease in his expression so that Gale wouldn’t pick up on it.

Knew he had failed when Gale shot him a frown with accompanying worry reflected in his own eyes.

“I’m guessing no,” Gale grinned, forced and fake as he swallowed underneath the scrutiny of Ken’s expression.

“No, not so much, man.” Ken answered, simple and direct. He adjusted where his hand was on Gale’s arm, moving it more up underneath in a concealed attempt at support as he tugged slightly. He was still very aware of the shudders wracking through Gale’s frame, the beads of sweat sitting on the cowboy’s upper lip and across his brow underneath the brim of his hat on an ashen pallor. “Why don’t you just come over to the van with me and I’ll give you a quick look over, yeah?”

Gale shot him an unreadable look, but allowed himself to be guided back to the open back of the med van thankfully only a short distance away.

Ken helped lower him down so that the blond was occupying the seat against the low step that Ken was only on a few moments before, movements a little bit stiff and uncomfortable and made sure that Gale was comfortable before he stepped up in to the van.

He glanced back at Gale’s figure, reaching out and getting the vitals pack hooked up on the far wall and snatching the blood pressure cuff off of the built in bench as he turned.

Jumping back down onto the hard packed dirt, Ken knelt down in front of Gale who was still looking pale but not as frantic as the younger man started retrieving different equipment from the bag that he sat in front of him.

Gale eyed everything speculatively with that ever present frown still evident on his face. “I’m fine, Ken. Really.”

Ken glanced up at him with a strained smile as he pulled the velcro of the blood pressure cuff apart with a stark ripping sound, reaching up to secure it around Gale’s upper right arm with perfect and practised precision.

“Just taking precautions.” Ken assured him. He started manually pumping the small decompressor attached to the cuff. He unlooped the stethoscope from where it was draped over the back of his neck and lifted Gale’s sleeve up enough to be able to press the cool metal against his inner elbow gently. “Alarm went off for a reason, Buck.”

Gale rolled his eyes at Ken good-naturedly, but Ken could see the hint of worry reflected in the blonde's eyes as he flickered his gaze down to where Ken was listening to the thrum of his blood underneath his skin, wincing at the tight restriction of the cuff around his bicep.

“Dumb is what it is, I don’t even feel that bad any more.” Gale grumbled.

A few moments of silence went by as Ken listened intently to Gale’s pulse, holding his breath but allowing it to pass back out in a gentle exhale as everything seemed to be normal at least as far as blood pressure went.

Pulling the stethoscope away from Gale’s skin, he rolled the cowboy’s sleeve back down to cover cool but clammy skin and ripped off the cuff from further up. “Yes, well, as true as that may be right now, I just want to check you over in case. False alarm or not. I don’t particularly feel like having to explain to Bucky why you keeled over dead from a heart attack on my watch.”

Gale let an amused snort escape him at Ken’s words, lips curving up into the semblance of a smile as he kept his focus on Ken’s rummaging around in the med bag below.

“Point taken,” Gale mumbled, and Ken felt his own lips quirk up in reply.

The next few tests went by without so much as a suspicious blip or reading, and as much as Ken was confused, he was also incredibly relieved that Gale didn’t seem to be suffering from anything life threatening. As a small after thought, he reached out and gripped Gale’s wrist wearing the watch gently and turned the face of it towards himself, eyes scanning over the lit up surface and feeling satisfied when no warnings or alerts glared back at him. The heartrate had also gone back to a steady pace, and he let Gale’s hand drop with a sigh.

“Well, whatever was happening, you seem to be fine now,” Ken informed him. He looked up in to Gale’s face from where he was still crouched in front of the other, taking in the now more normal looking complexion and clear blue eyes staring back at him in curiosity and their own brand of confusion. “It might have been just a false alarm.”

Gale sighed, peeking down at the watch hidden back underneath the sleeve of his shirt with a blank look, posture relaxing that small increment more so he was slouched in a lazy lean, an elbow propped up against his knee.

“Fat lot of good a false alarm is,” Gale grinned. One of his hands came up to wipe the remaining perspiration still sitting against the ridge of his brow underneath the rim of his hat. That same hand then rose up to point an unthreatening finger in Ken’s direction, a mock expression of seriousness moulding on to his features. “But not a word of this is to be spoken to Bucky, under any circumstances.”

Ken chuckled, pushing himself up to stand and wincing at the ache that accompanied the movement from being crouched down in the same position for so long. He stretched out his back with a groan. “For once, I do agree with that statement.”

Gale looked affronted, mouth gaping slightly as Ken’s words but Ken could see the humour reflected there. “For once?”

Ken raised his hands in mock surrender, feeling something in his chest warm at the sight of Gale’s barely concealed amusement as he reached out a hand in Ken’s direction for help. Ken gladly accepted, gripping the other cowboy’s hand and pulling him easily to his feet until the other was standing tall and firm in front of him. The other did sway slightly, and Ken held out a hand in concealed readiness in case he needed to keep the other balanced, but in a blink any tilting had disappeared.

The sounds of the rodeo pierced back in to both men’s awareness, and Ken watched as Gale’s focus turned out towards the arena with a sharp turn of his head, the small smile that was there slowly slipping back into something that Ken couldn’t quite put his finger on. He allowed his own gaze to wander over in the same direction as Gale’s before pursing his lips and glancing back towards Gale’s face. The other looked lost in thought, blue eyes far away amongst whatever was running amongst his thoughts as the sound of cheering echoed across the grounds in a muted distant roar.

Licking his lips, Ken hesitated for a few seconds before parting his lips and letting the words that were sitting on his tongue escape in to a more simple question than the true ones he had.

“You sure you’re okay, Buck?”

Gale seemed to come back to the present at Ken’s words, face whipping back to look at Ken with a blank numb expression before his lips pulled up in to a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Though they were soft as they looked at the younger man.

He reached up and let his hand fall in a friendly comfort against Ken’s shoulder, patting it twice before allowing his arm to fall. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. You don’t gotta worry, Kenny, promise.”

Ken let himself smile back in reply to Gale’s words, but he knew that it didn’t quite reach his own eyes either as the image of Gale only a small time before all but hyperventilating and looking moments from death leaned up against that telegraph pole flashed through his mind in vivid technicolor. He could almost hear the ghost of the beeping of his work phone buzz behind his ears.

He almost asked again, taking in the way that Gale had suddenly started gnawing at his bottom lip between perfect white teeth until the plush skin was red and looked moments from breaking apart underneath the ministrations, but something squeezed in his ribcage and he swallowed the words down.

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avonne-writes · 6 months ago

Note

are there any other high school/college au fics you can reccomend?

Oh, I think we have a few high school AUs now! (Again, I’m not the best source of recs because I don’t have enough time to read while I have inspiration to write. I read when I have writer's block.)

Some high school AUs I know of:

@trashbag-baby666 has lots of high school headcanons on his blog and on AO3

@clevenhq also has a high school AU with tutor Gale on AO3

blue above the green by @antiquitea

she’s cheer captain and i’m on the bleachers by reminiscingromance (I haven't read it but it's very popular!)

Some college AUs:

seven degrees east by @forasecondtherewedwon

Feeling Like Someone In Love by via_234

Not quite college AU, but Gale is doing a PhD in whiskey neat, coffee black by @anachilles

I'm sure I missed some good fics, but these are the ones I know of.

As for my plans, I’m continuing the High School AU series and will soon start my friends with benefits (college) AU.

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #john egan #gale cleven #anon #mota fic recs #high school au #college au

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middlingmay · 22 days ago

Text

WOTA Halloween Event: Fic 2

Undercover Lover (5K)

Whilst undercover at a horse ranch trying to catch a serial killer before they strike, John loses and bet that puts him and Gale in the hot seat. Once the case has been solved, they have to pay up.

Read on AO3 or read below.

Fuck, have I missed writing fluff! @trashbag-baby666, hope it does the Criminal Minds Au justice!

"No. Nuh-uh. I didn't promise you a damn, thing. I am not doing that. Egan!"

John jumped where he was talking to the manager of the ranch, Red Bowman. One look at the glower Gale levelled his way and the twitch at the side of his eye had him making rushed apologies and jogging over.

"What's up, Buck?"

That goddamn nickname. It was going to haunt him beyond this case and well into the future, he knew it.

Gale thrust his finger at the sparse bundles of fabric, tasselled boots and bright coloured leather clutched by the grinning ranch hands, Will Quinn and Joseph Payne.

"You got anything to do with this?"

John took one look at the miscellaneous leather and suede and his hands jumped into his curls, started pulling and playing. One of his rare nervous gestures.

"Ah. Yeah. About that. I was gonna tell you, Buck, but I got a little side tracked. Potential killer on the loose and all that—"

"What. Did you do?"

Joe piped up helpfully. "He made a bet!"

John's hand, making violent slashing motions across his throat, fell limp and he smiled sheepish.

"And what, exactly, does that have to do with me?"

John was already walking backwards. "Well, uh, y'see Buck. 'Member when you did that race not long after we first got here? Me and the boys, we just made a friendly bet. That's all."

"Egan." Gale advanced on him step for step.

"And it's not my fault! I didn't think you'd lose! You told me you were good on horses and I just thought—"

"We were undercover! 101: you don't show everyone your full hand!"

"I know that but—"

"What was the bet?"

"Uh…"

John stumbled into a low-set rounded table, the kind for setting drinks on when you were sitting on a haybale. He sprawled over it on his back and Gale hauled him up by the collar of his shirt and growled in his face.

"What was the bet?"

"Buck, please don't be mad."

A horrified pit opened up in Gale's stomach. There wasn't a moment since they met where John wasn't 100% assured that his charm would get him out of trouble. For him to be asking mercy from Gale already meant nothing good.

"John."

Will answered for him, though his voice shook with mirth he at least tried to contain. "Oh, it's not that bad. You just gotta dance in the show is all!"

"Buck." John pleaded with his hands out. But it was no good. All the dimpled smiles, twinkling eyes and curling hair couldn't save him now.

Gale pulled him closer. And goddamn that son of a bitch because even now, Gale watched his eyes spark up with interest. Well, he would squash that under his boot, yes he would.

"You got ten seconds before I come after you, Egan. Get."

John tore out of there in a blur of straw and dust.

One week earlier.

“You cannot be serious.”

Gale had one arm folded over his chest, hooked into the elbow of his other whilst he worried his chin with his knuckles.

“I’m afraid so, Cleven.”

“I am a Special Agent with the FBI.”

“If there was another way—”

“I am in the BAU. Our business is catching serial killers. Not…this.” He cast the object of his offence such a scathing, withering, vicious look, Harding was surprised it didn’t just go ahead and burst into flames and save itself the trouble.

John, always a perfect counter to Gale, sat slouched and spreading in one of the chairs. He slapped his hands happily against the oiled wooden arms. “Ah, come on, Gale! Live a little. They don’t look so bad.”

Something at the side of Harding’s eye twitched. He knew Egan wasn’t doing this because he wanted to, or thought it was a good idea. He was doing it because he wanted to see Cleven, well, in a way none of them had ever seen him before, frankly. Or had ever really wanted to.

Apart from John.

A large, rectangular box sat on his desk. Inside was a frankly indecently tight pair of blue jeans, a belt with a garish buckle, and a set of boots he'd been told were supposed to look 'distressed' because they'd be made immediately if they turn up on a ranch wearing immaculate footwear.

Gale, apparently deciding to switch tactics, looked at him wide-eyed and soft. It was a staggering, devastating contrast to his lethal gaze just moments before. Harding didn't know how John had been able to stand it for so long, given how head over ass he was about the other man, trying to act like he wasn't.

"I am not the only member of this team," he pleaded. "Why does it have to be me—"

"Born in Wyoming to a farmer father and a farmer mother, with farmer grandparents on both sides. Several strong lines of thoroughbreds and good racers came out of Cleven Ranch, until it went into foreclosure. For a few years afterwards, local people still advertised the lineage of their horses as hailing from Cleven Ranch."

Gale's silence was furious.

"Cleven. No one knows this environment like you. No one else can be lead on this. And you know that. This is your job. To use our expertise and our insights into human behaviour to catch serial killers."

Gale's silence was defeated.

So Harding dropped the other bomb. "But you won't be going in alone." From underneath his desk, he plucked another box and dropped it down into the lacquered surface with aplomb.

An almost identical outfit lay inside, but bigger: bigger chest size, bigger waist band, bigger boot size. They'd had to modify the calf of the boots in fact, to fit Cleven's partner in the undercover investigation.

John's face dropped as Harding beamed at him. Gale looked like he didn't know if that made things better or worse. Neither did Harding.

Boxes tucked under their arms, John and Gale stormed out of Harding's office, and though a few tentatively called after them, no one braved stopping them as they marched out the bull pen.

Gale was so intent on stewing that he didn't notice John yanking open a door, and nearly lost his feet when he was shoved inside.

John sat his own box on a dark metal table, and wrestled Gale's away from where he clutched it to his body. It was a feeble barrier between him and John, anyway.

But John didn't touch him. And it irked and endeared Gale in equal measures that John knew how to read him so well after so short a time of finally giving in to this thing between them.

Then again, he and John had been building their intimacy for years. No one knew them better. Not Marge. Not Curt. Not even their mommas.

It's why John cut straight to the quick, forgoing his usual delighted frolicking through as much bullshit as he could find.

"What's got you so upset?"

And even though it was John, Gale's reaction was still automatic. "I'm not upset."

"Gale I have seen cats freshly dragged from the river that look happier than you right now."

Gale scowled.

"I've literally seen serial killers staring down a life sentence look less upset."

"Fuck you."

John tutted. "Not at work, jeeze. Show some restraint, Gale."

And goddamn him again, but Gale couldn't have stopped the smile from creeping up his face if his life depended on it.

Now John touched him. He settled his hands on the dip of Gale's waist and pressed in soft, before slipping them round his back and smoothing them up and down his spine.

"What's going on in that big ol' brain of yours, hm?"

"This all just seems…unnecessary. There hasn't even been a body. No one's even missing. It's just a few letters and—"

"—and Crosby swears up and down dead they're genuine. Same person. Same indications of some deeply fucked up pathology. You 'member when Huglin was here, and he ignored Croz the last time he said he was sure?"

Gale balked and reeled back. It remained the bloodiest shit show he'd ever had to deal with on the job. And the beginning of the end of Huglin's career.

"So," John prompted with a nudge of his nose on Gale's. "What's the real issue?"

Gale let himself fiddle with the large silver button stitched into a small strap at the bottom of John's jacket. It wasn't that horrendous woollen beast he loved so much, thank God. He wouldn't get rid of that thing for nothing. Not even when Gale asked nice.

"It's…it'll be the first time I've been back on a ranch since…"

Since the last time he saw James Cleven, and his mother, and the horses he loved so much growing up.

John, pushing his luck inside the offices of the BAU, pulled Gale a little closer and rested their foreheads together.

"I can't make that better for you," he said like it upset him, and Gale hated that he'd upset him. "But like Harding said, you won't be alone. I'll be there the whole time."

Some of the tension finally seeped out of Gale's shoulders, letting them slump and inch or two.

"And think about it Gale, y'get to see me try and ride a horse. Me. Can you imagine it?" Gale's cheeks crept up his face again and he huffed out a reluctant laugh. "What poor horse deserves to have my butterball ass bouncing around holding on for dear life, huh?"

Finally Gale laughed properly before he poked John in his ribs, lined nicely with protective fat and muscle. "Stop talking about yourself like that." It was an old warning. "Nothing wrong with you. I like the way you look, and all your buttery bits."

John threw his head back dramatically. "Oh, now you've done it. Oh, it's coming."

"What?"

"No choice, Gale. I'm gonna have to kiss you."

"John." Gale hissed and looked around the closed room like someone had somehow managed to sneak in after them.

"Nuh-uh. Not getting out of this one. Target locked and bombs away, Cleven."

Gale snorted at the utterly ridiculous sentiments this man managed to let fall out of his mouth. "Idiot."

"Mhm. Your idiot." And then John was kissing him. His hands had crept up from rubbing soothing lines into Gale's back, to clasping each side of his neck, the thumbs gently stroking up the side of Gale's face. His lips were soft but urgent: John rarely kissed him like he was something gentle and Gale loved it.

He let his own hands come up the clutch at John's wrists and thumbed along the bony protrudences and the coarse hairs peeking out from where the sleeves of his jacket had ridding up.

A small suckle on Gale's bottom lip that John had never been able to resist and he pulled back. But not before Gale got a little nip in, stuttering John's breath out of him.

Gale got a real good look at him. "You sure you're up for this?"

He'd been cleared for duty for months, but this would be the most active John had been in the field since…

John's eyes twinkled at his fussing. "Yes, ma. Got a note from doctor and everything."

Gale pushed him and John let himself be pushed. At least, Gale thought about this whole affair, at least John's first time back in such intensive field work, he'd have Gale to watch his six.

And he would. Nothing would happen to John whilst he was around.

"Alrighty!" John said plucking up his own box from the table, and Gale groaned to hear the shitty fake southern accent he really should have been expecting. "Let's get and saddle up, partner. It's a long pony trek back to the farm."

"You're going to get shot within five seconds on that ranch if you so much as think about keeping that voice, John."

"Aw, come on!" John giggled. He did it far more than a grown man should but it warmed Gale to hear it, always. "No good?"

"I didn't think much would be worse than what you did in New York, but I was wrong."

"Gale."

"You're from Wisconsin, John. Accept it."

Present day.

The leather pants were red, dashed through with white lines that tried to speak of an age they didn't have. There were no tassles, thank God. Only a few fixed to the black suede boots that hit below the knee. They'd shoved him into a black cotton shirt a full size to small for him and unbuttoned it down below the breastbone. He had to stop himself from pressing the gaping fabric against his chest in some feeble defence of modesty.

He'd tried to get out of it. He'd been at his manipulative, Special-Agent-with-the-BAU best, but it hadn't worked. His desperation had been too strong and too amusing. He'd thought that when they realised he really was a terrible dancer, they'd surely let him bow out of it then. But no. They'd promised him that dancing with a group could hide a multitude of sins and shoved Gale into the first number: a simple line dance to warm up the crowd. Too bad his footwork was the worst part of all. The rest of his body moved alright, but he was too conscious of his feet and nearly took more tumbles than there were minutes in the song.

But they were here, now. All avenues of escape exhausted.

The crowd fell into dead silence as the lights went down and the dancers took their place on the stage.

Gale's heart jackrabbited inside his chest and he promptly forgot everything a team of people had tried to teach him all afternoon.

The squeal of a fiddle and the lights snapped on, and Gale had once lain on the floor with a serial killer on top of him trying to choke the life out of him and had been less frightened than this.

The snap of a dozen heeled boots hitting the floor in time jolted Gale back into himself. Mercifully, it worked out like they promised and the other dancers were able to move him along and make up for his false start and stumbling misstep trying to get back in line.

He grit his teeth and persevered and stumbled through it. One sequence simply involved turning on one foot, hitting a full circle quarter by quarter, and circling his hips over and over the whole way around. Gale was in the middle of the line, and when that part came up the dancers either side of him broke off, and jeering and hollering sprang up from the audience.

"Shake it!"

"I'll ride that bronco any day!"

"Excu—he is an officer of the law, ma'am!"

Gale smothered his laugh, and managed to get through the rest of the number without falling on his ass. A hard-won victory, he thought.

At the end they took a bow, and Gale fled the elbows nudging at his ribs and the hands slapping his back before they tried to rope him into something else. He spotted the safety of Chick Harding and the rest of his team sitting at a table in the middle of the floor, and made a beeline for them.

He didn't make it unscathed. The tables were packed in tight, and more than one set of stray fingers found their way to his ass to try and pinch him through the leather.

He could arrest them all in a second. But Harding would kill him for screwing up relations with the locals. Maybe he'd tell John, see how Chick liked it then.

Crosby was shoving an ice cold ginger beer at him before he even sat down. Gale loved Crosby, he really did. He drained nearly half the glass, partly out of thirst and partly out of an inability to look his team and his boss in the eye after gyrating in stage in leather pants in front of them.

He gently placed the glass on the table. He held up one long, stern finger. "Don't—"

"Where'd you learn to move your hips like that?"

"Kenny."

"How, more to the point?" Helen eyed him contemplatively. "Those pants are tight, Buck."

"If a case ever takes us to a strip club, we know who's up." Gale gaped at Crosby's betrayal. He turned to Chick, pointing.

"This has to be workplace harassment."

Harding checked his watch. "We've been off the clock for five hours, now. So I don't know what you're talking about, Cleven."

"Then normal harassment!"

Marge petted his shoulder. "You want to talk about harassment? You should really be looking at those pants of yours."

Gale shifted in his seat. "Why anyone wears these by choice, I don't know."

"Oh, honey," Marge cooed in her finest brand of condescension. "The leather pants are not for you."

Kenny grinned around the straw and whatever liquor he was sucking down with flushed fervour. "They're for us."

"Kenny!" Kenny flirted something rotten with John, and that was nothing compared to the eye-fucking shenaniganry that he and Curtis Biddick got up to whenever he was in town, but Gale was rarely on the receiving end.

Helen reached over and tried to take Kenny's drink from his hands but he squirmed and batted her away.

"Give it."

"No."

"Kenny!"

"Stealing's wrong. Ask Chick. Chick!"

Harding sighed around the frankly obscene cigar puffing away in his mouth. "Kids, play nice. Or I'll turn this barn around."

Thankfully, as the next few acts took to and left the stage, the team focused less on ribbing Gale and more on the performers, and waiting eagerly for John who'd been tasked with the second last number of the show.

John, naturally, had taken to their rehearsals like a duck to water, but when it came to doing them in costume, he'd demurred. Gale thought it would remain one of the oddest things he'd see in his life for a long time. He didn't know John was capable of it, if he was being honest.

"Don't want to ruin the surprise, Buck," he'd said, looking at the floor and blushing.

Blushing. The same man who not three days before had cornered him in an empty stables and muttered filthy things in his ear about what else Gale could ride whilst sticking his hands down his pants.

Gale blushed too and crossed his legs. He shot Harding a shifty look, momentarily worried he could read Gale's thoughts. He couldn't very well complain about harassment when he was getting pulled off on the government's dime by his colleague with whom he was in an undeclared, clandestine relationship.

The acts stretched on. Some singers warbling sentiments about home and hearth that never really resonated with Gale. More musicians and dancers. One 'strong man' who tried to lift a donkey but had to dive out of the way as it aimed a kick at him and proceeded to shit all over the stage as it ambled off. Gale applauded the donkey, if nothing else.

Then finally, the lights dimmed once again and the announcer called out the next act.

"Alright, folks, we've got a real treat here for ya, today. Now don't say we don't listen to you. After complaints last year about always puttin' women in the riskier numbers, we thought we'd switch it up for you. So please, welcome to the stage, Bucky."

The lights came up, and there, on the 31st October 2024, Gale Cleven died.

Bucky stood all in white. White leather hot pants. White leather boots than came over the knee. And a sheer, white tank that did nothing to hide the dark coils of his chest hair or the flushed pinkness of his chest. Gale knew that John perspired a lot when he was physical, so he knew that the shirt was only going to get more see through as his number went on.

"Damn."

"Kenny!"

Kenny was undaunted by the admonishments of the table. Helen finally managed to wrestle his glass off him but he only stole Harding's, who took it back and forced Helen to return her prize.

But the three of them could have rolled around in an all out brawl for all Gale knew. He could not, would not, take his eyes off John.

The number was clearly a regular around here. The crowd were already clapping and singing the opening bars with fully lubricated enthusiasm. Even Chick's leg was thumping to the beat.

And John strut. His long legs swallowed up the stage easily. His first move was to leap onto a crate, hands on his hips, and look over the crowd. Everyone hooted and whistled, and Gale had a momentary flash of wanting to break some fingers.

John sank down to his knees, the leather providing soft padding between them and the rough wood of the crate. His hips pulsed to the song and he swung the long tassels fixed to the belt of his shorts in a loop.

He dived into a roll on the floor, and only then did Gale notice he had two women dancing with him, too, dressed up in sturdy denim deans and thick plaid shirts, and grinning like they were having the time of their lives watching John—

God. Lifting his pelvis off the floor and winking at the crowd.

Some pathetically meek sound slipped passed the prison of his lips. Crosby and Marge grinned at him all teeth, and Gale regretted one of rare evenings drinking almost a year ago when he spilled his guts about his crush on John.

The dance seemed to go on forever, but Gale felt like he'd only blinked before John was leaping off the stage to steal a woman's white Stetson from her head. Right there, in front of her whole table, John held onto that hat on his head with both hands and rolled and rocked his hips, dancing just out of reach of their stretching grasping fingertips.

Using those long legs to step back on the stage effortlessly, John stood with his back to the crowd and threw the hat. The song was reaching it's final crescendo, and the other dancers each grabbed one side each of John's flimsy, sodden shirt. The crowd belted out the last words of the song, and just before the lights went out, the women pulled and tore John's shirt right off his body. He left them all with one bare glimpse of the shiny, sweaty, muscle-lined skin of his back.

The crowd erupted into applause. The team, except Chick, leapt to their feet yelling their praise, but even their boss was chuckling under his breath and banging his now empty glass on the table.

Gale couldn't move. He could only stare at where Bucky had been, even as the muted lights between acts came back on as they prepared for the last part of the show. It was only when Harding clasped his shoulder with one meaty hand that he snapped out of it.

"We're leaving for the plane in ten. Go get ready, and hurry Bucky up, too."

Nodding numbly, Gale staggered away from the table and drifted backstage.

Backstage was really just a small annex for stalls affixed to the main barn. It was practically empty, with the last performers ready to take the stage and everyone else either in the wings or in the crowd to watch them. Only one of the stalls, used as make-shift dressing rooms, was occupied. Right at the back.

He heard John shuffling round from within. As Gale rounded the thick wooden beam running floor to roof, he saw John bent over his kit bag, still dressed in his outfit. Without the shirt, obviously. Gale watched his muscles shift and move. He watched droplets of cooling sweat glisten and roll over fuzz and goosepimples and freckles.

He watched John cock his hip and the flesh of one ass cheek bunched up. The shorts hadn't held up; how could they under that kind of strain? They'd ridden up and Gale now got to bask in the glorious view they left behind.

"Like what you see, Buck?"

Gale snapped his eyes back and and John grinned at him over his shoulder. In his hands he held his standard plain back t-shirt. Gale scowled at it.

But there was something else bothering him more.

"Where's the hat?" The Stetson. The one he took from the woman then threw off into the wing.

John turned slowly, his face smug. "You liked the hat?"

Gale nodded, open mouthed, as John's sweat-slicked chest was presented in front of him. There was something about John sweating; about the proof of a hard-working man that plucked at something in Gale's brain, his chest, and much deeper down into his belly, and made him hungry.

Without thinking, with zero connection between his brain and mouth, Gale said, "My daddy had one."

Soon as the words left his mouth and Gale realised what he said, his face burned with a humiliated flush. Why did he say that? What kind of person—he stared at John wide-eyed and frantically trying to think of a way to backtrack. But John stared right back and folded his arms over his chest.

"Did he?" he said, nodding to himself and working his bottom lip between his teeth. "Want me to go get it? Put it on and tell you what a good boy you are—"

Gale pounced. He threw himself at John like the damsels in shitty romance movies or the books Marge loved the thumb so much with that glint in her eye. But there was no room for shame or embarrassment in Gale anymore. John had burned it up. Like he burned away each and every one of Gale's defences.

Gale kissed him, consuming and messy. He sucked John's tongue into his mouth and gasped around the slick wetness. John's hands frantically pulled at his shirt and and yanked and the ping of buttons littered the stall and Gale moaned and bit John's lip.

John tugged off the remains of the shirt, leaving Gale in nothing but his pants. He kissed down the newly-exposed skin, mouthing along the defined line of Gale's collarbones and grabbed palmfuls of his waist, using it to haul Gale in impossibly closer.

He could feel every part of John in the firm line against him.

The floor was piled thick with straw, and Gale stuck his foot behind John and shoved him down, tripping him to the ground. He fell down with him, hands grasping John's thigh and dragging it high over his hips.

A slow, hard grind and John was throwing his head back, mouth wide open and shouting his pleasure.

"Oh, okay," he gasped in Gale's seeking, searching mouth. "That does it for ya. Noted."

John's hands dropped down to Gale's belt and yanked the leather open. He worked on Gale's buttons, straining against the hardness they were fighting to contain. He managed to just slip his hands between the unforgiving waistband and Gale's heated skin to get some leverage to work with and Gale groaned at his manhandling—

When yelling erupted from the mouth of their stall.

"Aw, jeeze, guys!"

"RIght there in the hay! An animal lives here!"

"Who had Halloween? Was it Curt or Rosie? I think it was Rosie."

"Great. Thank you. Now we have to pay a lawyer the pot. Great job, guys!"

"Fuckin' knew it! Budge up, I want in."

"Kenny!"

Gale still had John pinned underneath him, though both of them blinked wide-eyed and open mouthed at their colleagues arguing over them when they'd been dry-humping like teenagers and half naked.

In a moment of clarity, Gale tried to spring up, But John clamped down with his legs and shook his head desperately.

"Fuck sake, not yet! Don't. Move."

Gale gave up, and slumped down, letting John bear all his weight and hopefully his humiliation, too.

Marge, bless her soul, shooed Helen and Crosby and Kenny out of there, turning her back to let the boys make themselves decent. They hurried out of their costumes into their own clothes as fast as they could. Gale was fairly sure his shirt was on inside out. But he didn't trust himself to look at John and ask him to check.

"Um," John's shaky voice broke the silence and Marge spun around on her heels. "Could you, uh, not tell Chick about this?" His chagrin melted some of Gale's embarrassment.

John gestured to him. "We agreed to tell him when we were ready and we haven't really spoke about it, so…" He looked helplessly at Gale, and he couldn't help the soft smile he shot back.

Marge snorted. "Sure," she agreed easily. "But he's gonna know, anyway."

"Why?" Alarmed, Gale checked them over, thinking one of them had left a hickey or something equally incriminating.

"Honey, who do you think set up the pool about you two in the first place?"

#wotahalloweenevent2024 #clegan #buck x bucky #mota au #criminal minds au #john egan #gale cleven

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swifty-fox · 5 months ago

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Hi 👋 which tumblr accounts would you rec for good Clegan fic or h/cs? I sense I’m missing out!

all of them LOL

But @avonne-writes, @hogans-heroes, @johnslittlespoon & @trashbag-baby666 all come to mind as people who are posting frequent headcanons and thoughts!

#im sorry i have so many moots and theyre all lovely #swiftytalks

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john-cleven · 7 months ago

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tagged by @chirpybirdy (thank you, love!)

Rules: Summarize your WIPs badly and let people vote on which one they'd most like to read.

I'll reblog with a snippet of whichever fic wins :)

tagging @hephaestn, @winniemaywebber, @ginabaker1666, @clevenhq, @trashbag-baby666

#can i just say #that i literally started planning out two of these today #fics are masters of the air and the pacific

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rqsser · 8 months ago

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birthed from the discord server

tutor au, gale finding his sisters and john making a student council election poster for him

(gale’s sisters are oc’s made by @trashbag-baby666 )

When Gale walks into his kitchen, having just returned from a student council meeting, the sight he is met with is admittedly adorable. His younger sisters and boyfriend all working on a poster.

None of them are artists particularly, but Zoe and Addy are a hell of a lot better than John. They haven’t realised that Gale is back yet, as quietly as he can, Gale stalks around the table to stand behind them.

John is settled in his designated chair between Zoe and Addy, who have pulled up their own seats on either side of him. It’s not the first time they’ve worked on election posters for him, but Gale has never seen the process.

He guesses that Addy drew the big, bubble letters that spell out his name near the top. Zoe is drawing what looks to be a ballot box and a line of people largely at below the words. John, Gale doesn’t actually know what he did, how he contributed.

Right now, he’s colouring in the letters provided by Addy, but Gale doubts that’s all he’s going to do.

“Please vote for” is written above Gale’s name, no fancy font or extravagant decorations. If anything, John probably wrote that. But his handwriting is so angular and illegible that a kindergartener could have did the same thing.

“What’re you three up to?” Gale asks eventually. He laughs as he watched all three of them jump and turn around to look at him.

Immediately, Zoe and Addy jump up to hug Gale. They haven’t seen their brother all day. John bites his lip to hide a growing grin, his cheeks flush. He’s embarrassed, but still excited.

“Making you a poster, Abi!” Zoe says with her face pressed into Gale’s arm. Growing up, Zoe and Addy were convinced that ‘Gale’ was short for ‘Abigail’, and the nickname has stuck ever since. Gale can’t say that he finds it annoying.

“Really? You two are so sweet,” Gale replies and smiles widely at his sisters. Then he looks to John.

“Surprise!” John finally lets the grin take over his face. Gale can’t take him seriously, he has marker and glitter up his arms and on his face somehow. He rolls his eyes.

“Best trio ever, you guys going to sign it?” Gale questions. He leans against the back of John’s chair as they turn back to the task at hand.

“Yeah!”

Gale watches. Zoe and Addy messily spelling their names in the bottom left corner, big enough to be noticeable when looking at it. John signs the paper after them, “Mr. John Cleven” and Gale scoffs.

“You’re ridiculous.”

i promise new chapters of actual fics will be out this week y’all

#buck x bucky #my writing #everyone say ‘thank you theo!’#clegan #masters of the air #mota #gale buck cleven #john bucky egan #mota fanfic #austin butler

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rangerelizabeth · 20 days ago

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Word WIP Game

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Thank you for the tag @rambleonwaywardson! These are from chapter three of I’m glad I get forever (college AU epilogue fic), and my word was WISH:

W - When Gale applied for a summer internship in Washington, D.C. through NASA’s graduate student program back in the spring, actually getting the internship had seemed nothing but like a far-fetched dream. I - It’s as if anxiety has clawed its way up into his throat and stolen his voice. S - Swallowing heavily, Gale raises his own hand in farewell. H - His wish (hehe) sort of comes true when his phone starts buzzing incessantly with an incoming call, John’s name lighting up the screen in big letters.

Tagging @c-goldthorn @trashbag-baby666 and @caustinen! Your word is SUCH. 💕

#tag games #i’m glad i get forever

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sleepr-agent420 · 3 months ago

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fic pic tag

thank you @ranger-elizabeth for tagging me <33

Rules: Describe your current wip (or a finished fic if you don’t have any wips right now) using the most basic/stupid stock images you can find, and tag some writer friends!

oh my fucking god

np tags: @amiserableseriesofevents @wayrad @trashbag-baby666 @air-exec @alienoresimagines

i accidentally tagged sm else im so sorry im half asleep

#this is so stupid im giggling #that one curtbuckbucky thing i said i would write #mota #gale cleven #john egan #buck x bucky #curtbuckbucky #curt biddick #clegan

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trashbag-baby666 · 2 months ago

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Babygirl-Clegan

Dedicated to @middlingmay because I finally got the inspo to write for the criminal minds au :3

mota masterlist!

The office sat tense as the woman from HR paced the conference room, the projector screen pulled down behind her. She began her talk with a click of her remote.

“Sexual harassment isn’t always a quid pro quo arrangement. Maybe it’s a conversation between two coworkers that makes you feel uncomfortable. Maybe these coworkers use phrases like: 'baby girl.'” The words appeared on the screen, and John’s head shot over to meet Gale’s eyes. Of course, this was about them.

“‘Thunder from down under,’” the HR lady continued.

Gale side-eyed John and dropped his head, his cheeks turning crimson.

“Or, ‘where’s my big bad cowboy?’”

John bit down on his lip, trying not to snicker as the HR lady's glare burned into him.

“Who blabbed?” John mouthed at Gale, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“And what does that create, Detective Egan?” the HR lady snapped, her tone cutting.

John cleared his throat, ready to respond, but she clicked the projector remote again. “A hostile work environment. So, messages like ‘more cushion for the pushin’… not appropriate.”

A wave of chuckles rippled through the room, and John was never more grateful Curt lived in Ireland; Although, he knew Ken would tell him...

“No more ‘I’ll be the Coco to your Ice-T,’ also not appropriate. ‘Flarpy Blunderguff’... not appropriate. I don’t even know what that means.”

John swallowed, feeling Gale’s eyes burning into the side of his neck. He knew how mortifying this must be for him. Could this day get any worse? Then his phone buzzed.

Chick: Meet me by the elevator ASAP.

John stood up, drawing the HR lady’s attention. “Detective Egan, you need to stay for this.”

“I...” John cleared his throat as another round of laughter swept the room. “I’m sorry, but I have to excuse myself.”

Ignoring the HR lady’s exasperated glare, he hurried out of the room, fully expecting to lose his job by day's end.

He loosened his tie as he approached the elevator, his face still hot from the embarrassment. The doors slid open, and there was Chick, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.

John got in front of him and before he could even process, the words spilled out. “Look, I just… I’m sorry, okay? I’ll tone it down. I promise.”

Chick stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. “John, I don’t care about your flirty crap,” he finally said, exasperated. “This isn’t about that.”

John blinked, genuinely confused. “Wait... what? Then what’s this about?”

Chick sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “I’ve got a case, John. That’s why I texted you. I need your head in the game, not distracted by your little soap opera with Gale.”

John stood there, dumbfounded. "Oh... good. The case?"

~ Taglist: @austeenbootler @coastiewife465 @executethyself35 @slowsweetlove

#criminal minds au #buck x bucky #clegan #masters of the air #mota #theo writes #trashbag baby666 fics

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alienoresimagines · 3 months ago

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I'm curious how the ship Curt/Ken got popular? Like is it because both are short?😭

"Is it because both are short" pls I snorted, SHORT KINGS

To be really honest with you, Nonnie, I don't particularly ship Curt/Ken or any other ship beside Buck/Bucky and the occasional Blakely/Douglass (even though a good fic or hc can change everything lmao) so I may not be the best person to answer your question but I'll do my best 🥰❤️

So, Curt and Ken have never interacted in canon, I don't think we even ever see them sharing the screen even once. That makes it half of the fun of shipping! You get free reign over everything, and it's fun to imagine "what would their dynamic be like?". Some of my favorite ships are me smashing my two favorite characters together even though they've never interacted once in canon so I can see the appeal 😂

I think Mota doesn't give us much in terms of characters, except for the Buckies, and perhaps Dougley and Crubbles, there is no pair who interacted and you thought "Them". We're living off crumbs for ships that aren't these two, and sometimes we have to make the crumbs ourselves 🥹

Then there's the whole Pilot x Chief Mechanic dynamic! I can fly this plane because you make sure it can fly and won't fall apart midair. I can go back up times and times again because you spend hours repairing it. This plane that you fixed is the reason I'm alive today, it brought me back to you. And then if you follow canon, you have an Angst potential that is through the roof 😔 But even without, the stress Ken is under every time he sees Curt's fort fly off and know that maybe, his repairs won't be enough, his bird won't be enough to bring Curt back to him. But then it is, the fort has bullet holes everywhere but it touches wheelsdown and Curt is mounting off, whooping at Ken and pulling him in a celebratory hug because Curt never forgets it's Ken that keeps him up and not plummeting down. Just think of all the scenarios of Ken having a breakdown because his birds and all his repairs aren't enough to bring his friends home, they're not flying fortresses, they're flying tombs but Curt comforts him, reminds of how many times his fort, Ken, saved his life (for OPwillcryiftheythinktoomuchaboutit reasons, we will forget part 3 happened how it did, but if you want to go that way you get The Angst fic and a heartwrenching tragedy)

Since they haven't interacted in canon, their dynamic personality-wise is truly up to you! I personally like little angel looking Ken with New Yorker hardened, a bit rough around the edge looking Curt, I think putting them next to each other would be funny (and you've said it... short kings 😂). And they're both ballsy, and confident so I think they could be a Power Couple, but they're also so sweet (Ken with the kids, Curt when Bucky was having a breakdown in part 2), they're fundamentally kind to their core. And they're both funny in their own way (Ken humoring the kids with the hot potato, Curt and his jokes/stories), so I do think their relationship could be a beautiful one 🥹

As to how it got popular, I think it gives these two characters room to grow while extracting them from the Clegan factor. Don't get me wrong, I love seeing Curt be a friend to the Buckies, but I also don't think that's all he was so I love seeing him be his own person in fics 🥹 Also Ken, my darling boy, had too little screentime (like pretty much everyone to be honest) so fics and ships like Curt/Ken really explore his character and it has the additional plus of exploring the mechanics'/ground crew's war, which was something that was missing from canon in my opinion 🥺

I don't know if that answered your question, Nonnie, so allow me to tag two people who I know ship Curt/Ken if you'd like to ask them why they ship it or what made them first see those two as a pairing 🥰❤️

@johnslittlespoon @trashbag-baby666

#curtken #ken lemmons #curt biddick #curtis biddick #mota #masters of the air #asks #anonymous

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umika · 4 months ago

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Fic pic tag

Rules: describe your current wip (or a finished fic if you don't have any wips right now) using the most basic/stupid stock images you can find, and tag some writer friends!

Thanks for tagging me @onyxsboxes 🥰

Well, I think I've already given it all away🤣

@trashbag-baby666 @defnotanarc @alienoresimagines @pinksiames @joeyalohadream

Sorry if I've been annoying😶‍🌫️

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bucking-mustangs-with-wings · 7 months ago

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HOME IS YOUR HEART - Clegan (Barbed Wire Hearts AU Series) Fic

@swifty-fox @moghraidhs @trashbag-baby666

I couldn't help myself, my cowboys were begging to be written again despite me having a raging ear infection and a high temp but FUCK IT, NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER (pun intended). Enjoy!!

When Gale steps down from the fold out step of his trailer, breathing in the distinct smell of the pitfire curling through the air, taking in the sound of his little band of ragtag cowboys chatting and laughing together from their various positions seated around it, he can't stop the warm and comforting feeling of home that settles deep in the recesses of his chest.

He can't stop that feeling from curling its way into every little nook and empty space of his body, filling in the cracks like honey, warming spaces that he never knew were sitting dormant and cold behind everything else. An unmistakable sense of belonging whispering into his soul, something that he hadn't felt since he was a boy, young and green roping practice dummys in his father's arena back home in Wyoming, his mother leaned up against the fence with the smile she had passed on to him in a carbon copy beaming wide and blinding white.

It was a feeling that slowly melted away the older he got. When his mother's presence disappeared from the inside of the Cleven family ranch home, her usual perch on the arena fence left empty and tainted with a grieving loss. Her boots that sat by the front door amongst the others leaving a space that he could never fill, allowing the empty cracks to start reaching further and further as time went on. Pulled apart with every harsh word from his father's mouth, every disappointed shake of his head, every hit that left an ugly burning fire both on his skin from a cruel open palm and burrowing deeper and deeper into his soul in the wake of it all.

But looking at where he was now, situated amongst some of the best men he had ever had the pleasure of calling friends, partners, a team, that warmth was slowly starting to trickle back in. It was in the way that Crosby was smiling sat over on the wheel-arch of his trailer, Bubbles close next to him, an arm draped over his shoulder and smiling up drunkenly at Douglas and Everett as they recalled some story with exuberant smiles and arm gestures.

It was in the way Brady was kneeling down on one knee near the open tack box, showing Hambone how to properly strap his boots tight around his calf with flat leathers for the next bull-ride. The other man's scarred face intent and interested and asking questions like a schoolboy in the presence of a scholar, beer bottle balanced precariously between loose fingers.

Jack sat in one of the camper chairs closer to the fire, pointing out somewhere in the distance with a concentrated frown and trying to explain something to Benny while the other man frowned out in the same direction with his left hand hanging down from his own chair to absentmindedly scruff his fingers through his husky, Meatball's, fur, the dog laying sleepily at his side enjoying the ministrations.

It was in the giddy love-struck smile of Curt, holding the new paramedic, Kenny, on his knee, a sweet boy who had only recently been brought into the fold. One of Curt's arms draped loosely around his waist and murmuring hushed words close to the other boy's neck, the younger's face turned slightly to him with a mirroring grin soft and fond on his lips. A hearty laugh only a moment later, head thrown back and Curt's smile growing that much more that you could spot it from miles away, even without binoculars.

Gale felt his own lips curve into a fond smile at the two, eyes leaving them to scan over the top of the fire's flickering warmth. Feeling his own chest compliment the reaching warmth as it crescendoed into its own fire-like sensation when he spotted John, sat comfortably and lazily in his own camping chair, doing what Gale was and observing the men around him with his own soft grin. His hat was tipped down low against his brow, half hiding the bright blue of his eyes, knees spread in content, sinking lower into the cushioned seat as he took a sip of the beer bottle in his hand.

Like he could feel Gale's eyes on him, those stormy blue irises lifted and zeroed in on him with laser focus over the sparks of the fire, softening with affection, grin turning into a wide smile, teeth glinting at him in the glow.

Gale couldn't help the way his heart thundered like a wild horse being corralled at being the cause of that smile, neither could he stop the flush he felt colour his cheeks into what he knew was a faint red that he hoped could be explained away by the fire's heat. Could feel his own teeth bare helplessly into his own giddy smile as he tilted his head down in a shy gesture as he stepped away from the door of his trailer and make his way around the pit in John's direction.

When he made it over to him, standing in front of him and situated slightly in between those open knees, fire at his back, John's smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Directed solely at him, because of him. Eyes staring up at him and taking in every inch of him with a casual ease.

Those open knees turned in to knock lightly against his own, expression full of mirth and adoration. Gale couldn't help the way his heart skipped at the fact that it was directed at him. Had never had anyone look at him in that way during his entire life. Not even his first and only girlfriend way back when he was a still an awkward and lanky 16 year old boy, being the affection of some pretty blond barrel racer from Tennessee that had pursued him for months and delighted in the fact she was eventually dating the son of the great team roping champion Joseph Cleven.

It didn't last long. It was short and sweet and Gale never really could understand why even when she broke up with him during the middle of a rodeo and he saw her not even an hour later making out with some amateur steer wrestler behind the stables, that he didn't really feel all that broken up about it. Couldn't find it in himself to care that someone who he had shared his first kiss and first fumbled handjob with in the back of the Cleven family trailer, had dumped him without so much as a glance backwards. Her perfect blond hair underneath a jewelled white hat bouncing as she sauntered away.

Wasn't until he started noticing the strong shoulders of some of the other ropers, the cocky stubbled smiles of the bullriders and the curve of the asses of the steer wrestlers in perfect fitting Wrangler jeans that he kind of started to understand.

Growing up in the rodeo world, though, where 95% of the families and competitors were heavily influenced by the bigoted views of Christianity and religion, he couldn't afford to let his eyes or his heart linger on his new-found preferences in any way. Not if he didn't want to have his face caved in in some shadowed corner of one of the many rodeo grounds or arenas and left like a bag of trash with a slur branded onto his skin with a hot iron.

So he'd put his head down and focused solely on his craft, solely on the feel of his name being broadcast over the speakers in triumph and the feel of wrapping the rope of his lasso tight over the horn of his saddle and carrying on the merit of the Cleven family name. He'd never let his eyes wander again, never wondered what it would be like to just give in and let himself toy with the idea of being someone's whole world, of being someone's object of affection and heart and the recipient of a gentle and adoring or lustful touch.

His father's words of a relationship being nothing but a worthless distraction in the face of what he could (and should) be accomplishing. Bringing home another buckle to add to the display case in the living room was more important than bringing home a girl on his elbow, all saccharine smiles and promises of a late spring wedding and 2.5 kids running around the ranch in a few years time.

Didn't have the heart to even retort to his father's words that it wasn't girls that he had to worry about Gale bringing home or looking at.

Until John Egan. That damn cocky louder-than-life and brash down to the bone bullrider that all but sauntered his way into the chutes and Gale's life quicker than if he were to sit on Baby's back and have her galloping full pelt through the flats of the wide open fields back home.

Said bullrider knocked one of his knees back against Gale's once again, pulling him back to the present and back to that blinding smile that had softened into something a little more concerned but no less adoring at Gale's silence. Had no doubt his eyes had gone glazed and unfocused amongst the tirade of his mind for a few moments.

"You doing okay there, cowboy?" John said gently, the hand not holding a beer bottle reaching forward and taking hold of his thigh over his jeans, squeezing tenderly in a comforting caress.

Gale swallowed thickly, collecting what little composure he had let slip back firmly against his chest. Tilted an easy smile down at John, eyes flickering over the brunette's face, the warm orange glow of the fire at his back only highlighting the other's sparse barely-there freckles trailing across his nose and over his cheeks. Felt that tidal wave of emotion and affection melt back into him, right where it should be.

"Sure am," Gale murmured lowly, reaching a hand down to cover Bucky's where it was still sat grounding over his thigh. "Was just thinkin', is all."

John hummed in question, hand starting to run absentmindedly up and down as he watched Gale's face with curious eyes. "What about?"

Gale watched him right back, a gentle sigh slipping past his lips against his control, and couldn't stop that wave from breaking over the borders and spilling over into a heedy molasses-slow overload that had his heart lighting up into more than just a fire, into something that more resembled the sun.

He watched John for a few more moments, those questioning blue eyes still searching and waiting on Buck's every word like a dog sitting at his feet and awaiting a command in the hopes of a reward.

"How much you mean to me," Gale finally murmured, watching as something hopeful and bright and absolutely smitten crossed over John's face and came to life in his eyes, smile turning lazy and so self satisfied again that Gale wanted to hide away from the barrage of feelings it illicited inside him.

Went easily when that large hand on his thigh tugged gently until he had to twist himself slightly in his descent downwards, pulled onto John's lap and into the other's warmth. Felt strong thighs tense underneath him before he moved into a more natural and comfortable position, ass fitting into the curve of Bucky's hips and back resting against a broad shoulder. He felt the distinct sharp curve of a large Champion buckle in the denim near his tailbone, but pushed back the small discomfort in the face of feeling like he was falling through the clouds at a million miles an hour.

Bucky rested his hand against Gale's hip, fingers a welcome press near the tooled leather of his belt and rested his chin against Gale's shoulder. His grin was still as prominent as ever, but his eyes were soft and half lidded, too close to focus on Gale's face so instead focused on the skin of his neck, the curl of his blond hair slightly longer at the back.

"That's a lotta thinkin, for little ol' me," Bucky whispered, slightly rocking the both of them side to side. Buck could feel the gaze still focused on his neck like a burn, but one he would gladly walk into covered in gasoline.

He turned his head to the side slightly, side eyeing Bucky as much as their position would allow at this angle. "Way I see it, you're worth a lot more than just thinking about, John Egan."

He heard the click of Bucky's throat as the other swallowed thickly at his words, something vulnerable permeating the air between them, but no less sweet.

Bucky hesitates slightly, seemingly lost for words, repeating Gale's over and over in his head. Buck can see it like a billboard sign lit up above him.

Finally, a shaky exhale, breath ghosting over his neck in a whisper, just as ragged. "Yeah?"

Buck hums in reply, turning his head a little more so he can look at Bucky a bit easier. Still not completely, but enough so that John's face, the tirade of emotions flowing over his features is more in focus. More open to Gale's attention and words. Sees blue eyes flicker up to his in an almost timid display.

"Yeah," Gale repeats, feels his face heat up from more than just the fire as the words that have built inside his chest, pushing and prodding and ready to burst through and out into the air like the sun itself had rooted itself there and made a home. Home. "You've made your home in me John, and for the first time in my life, I wanna build those foundations with my damn bare hands. Wanna be there building it with you."

He sees the moment his words truly sink in to John, make the other man finally hold his gaze, vulnerability and awe in every inch of his expression, brows pulled together in a questioning ache.

"Gale.." Bucky chokes on his words, throat constricting on another harsh swallow, mouth parted like every single moment leading up to this has lodged against his windpipe.

"Won't be building it without you, Bucky."

John stares, transfixed, gaze trailing between Buck's eyes like he's trying to convince himself that everything he's experiencing is real. That he can reach out and touch it as easily as his hands are holding Buck now, beer bottle long forgotten in the grass. His fingers flex against Buck's hips, pressing in without thought.

"You sure?" he whispers, broken and trembling like a kid trying to talk to his first teenage crush, fumbled and nervous and not sure if any of it is real. A broken man, stranded in the desert, being offered his first glimpse of salvation.

Buck can't help the soft smile that makes its way onto his face, turning that bit more, leaning forward slowly until the tip of his nose brushes Bucky's, soft and gentle. Feels the shaky exhale from Bucky's lips straight against his own.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away," Buck murmurs, low and strong, leaving not even an inch of doubt anywhere. Mirrors the words he said to Curt all those weeks ago when he'd returned from the hospital, weak and shaky like a newborn colt.

Within a single blink, he feels the way Bucky's fingers tighten even further against him, a quick surge of mere millimetres to press his lips insistently to Gale's like that broken stranded man, salvation coming to him in the physical golden form that was Gale Cleven and every prayer he'd ever uttered being answered all at once.

Gale's hand flies up to cup his jaw, sinking further into John's body and the comfort that envelopes him in one big wave as that sunshine in his chest finally bursts from the dam it had self constructed, all those years of being hidden away like a shameful, evil thing. Cast away and never to be brought to light.

Bucky kisses him and pulls him into the light, now. He's frantic, and wild, and untamed, and Gale grips his jacket with the other hand that's not against John's jaw, feeling the sparks that spring forth from the feeling of Bucky's lips sliding against his. Tongue gentle and asking permission despite the wild energy, and Gale grants him it without hesitation, opening up to him like he's now become the starved one.

Buck's thoughts are molasses, slow and thick but still galloping at a million miles an hour and sweet like the taste of John, the careful slip of their tongues fighting a damned war, teeth occasionally knocking and lips becoming the victim amongst it, tenderly bitten against panting breath.

It isn't until that breath starts burning, screaming for air, a familiar sensation akin to their first kiss, that both have to pull away, but only my mere increments. Foreheads still pressed together, Bucky's hat long since pushed off and tumbled to the grass to join the beer bottle at their feet, noses bumping.

Gale can feel Bucky's lips touch his with every harsh panting inhale with how close they still are, and Buck thinks that he could stay here forever. Meld himself to every part of John so he never had to let him go, never had to feel the warmth of his body leave him.

His fingers twitch against Bucky's jaw at the onslaught of emotion still coursing through him, and its not until he manages to peel his eyes back open, the lids feeling heavy and weighted, that he locks eyes with Bucky's own. Everything is unfocused and slightly difficult to see being this close, and he has no doubt he's nearly going cross-eyed with the proximity, but Bucky's eyes are like staring into blue fire. Flames hotter than the one only mere metres from them.

Bucky huffs out a breathless laugh against his lips, and Gale can't stop the blinding smile that threatens to split his face in two if it got any wider.

"You've done it now," John pants, smile mirroring Gale's in a perfect sycnronization. "You're stuck with me, cowboy."

Neither men barely move when Bucky's words cause a chain reaction, Curt's enthused whistle cutting through the silence like a bullet that in turn caused a cacophony of whoops and hollers and whistles to erupt from everyone around them. They had almost forgotten that they weren't alone, were subject to an audience of people that they had all but become family with.

Buck's heart once again burst, the last of those empty cracks that had sat so empty and agonised finally filling in and setting like cement so that he felt completely and utterly whole. Everything slotted into place and it felt like the world had finally righted itself to make way for him.

He leaned forward, pressing his face in against Bucky's neck, cheeks flushed and warm and entire body rooted in place against the shining pillar that was John Egan.

The foundation finally set underneath him. Home.

He pretended not to hear Curt's over enthusiastic "All right, bitches, pay up! Money, in this hand, right here!"

Also pretended not to peer through half lidded eyes where he still had his face pressed to Bucky over to see half of the boys grumble and slap notes into Curt's outstretched palm as they walked past him, before handing the money to Ken, who took it with a smug face and started counting.

Bucky's laugh rumbling against Buck's body and jostling him had him turning his face back and grinning against his throat, pressing a soft kiss to the tender skin.

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