#curtbuckygale

[meyerlansky]

na zdrowie.

[roseszirnheld]

The adrenaline buzz leaves Curt feeling shaky and out of place. The familiar sounds of Dickie cajoling the rest of the plane onto solid ground left his mind calm but his hands shaking, body turning automatically when he senses someone standing at his shoulder.  He knows it’s not Dickie - his copilot is still trying to get their gunner and bombardier on solid ground without them throwing up - so it’s either Buck or Bucky. A whiff of specific aftershave comes to him on the wind that whips around them suddenly and he knows it’s Buck. His Major stays silent, saying nothing as Dickie turns to him for guidance.  “Take them with the others to Jack, Dickie.” Buck’s voice is rough and Curt starts at the sound, jerking his head to the left so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. Buck glances at him in concern, the little cuts on the left side of his face standing out starkly against his skin.  Curt swallows thickly and looks away, eyes glancing off what remains of their unit gathered under their planes. He spots DeMarco standing shoulder to shoulder with Crosby, Douglass and Blakeley further back playfully squabbling about something while Kidd pulls on his proverbial Air Exec cap and bosses everyone into some semblance of order.  A heavy arm curls around his shoulder and Curt hisses at the pressure, nausea suddenly hitting him like a piece of flak high above Germany. His knees wobble and he tilts, choking on the words he wants to say and the arm shifts, curling around his waist to keep him upright.  “Fuck! Curt, talk to me buddy. Are you hit?” Bucky’s voice sounds far away and Curt tries to tell him but the words won’t form, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. A separate pair of hands helps to guide him down onto his knees and Curt blinks away the spots clouding his vision to see both Majors peering down at him with matching looks of concern on their faces. 

A snippet of the intro to my ucoming CurtBuckyGale ot3 fic for @steviewicks45 💞 @oopsiedaisiesbaby @finiteuniverse13 @derry-rain @sleepy-maya @onyxsboxes

[starboybutler]

pov: u follow the lights up boys on twitter

[meyerlansky]

curtbuckygale + text posts [1/?]

[meyerlansky]

VOTE HERE!! poll ends 05/23 @ 1PM EST

[meyerlansky]

[a day late but i was up to shenanigans yesterday so have a fill for @bottombuckyweek2025 day 4: impact, praise, AND swallow! part of dctctcverse, post-war, pure filth 😇] "Think you deserve it?"

"Yes," Bucky pants, broad chest rising and falling, on display thanks to Buck pinning his arms where they're crossed at the small of Bucky's back, Buck's knees bracketing Bucky's hips from behind.

Curt stands between Bucky's knees at the edge of the mattress and hums. "Tell me why."

Bucky swallows, eyes screwed shut. "I—got off in the shower alone, got sloppy at the bar, mouthed off yesterday—"

"Mm," Curt hums again, considering, traces his thumb along Bucky's wet bottom lip and cuts off the flood. Bucky's mouth drops open at the barest amount of pressure, and Curt slides his thumb in, presses it down on Bucky's tongue. He's so good, just takes it, some of the tension seeping out of his face as he closes his mouth around the digit. "What d'you think, Buck?"

Buck hums too, but doesn't look up, which would usually earn him a slap, if just a light one to get his attention. For now it's okay, seeing as he's got his nose buried in Bucky's sweat-mussed curls, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses to the line of his shoulder. "Doesn't sound all that outta the ordinary to me," he murmurs into Bucky's skin. His other hand moves slow on Bucky's dick, where he's been holding him on the edge for twenty minutes at least.

"Me neither," Curt replies, lazy, like the heat of Bucky's mouth around his thumb isn't making him twitch in his shorts. Bucky makes a noise, protesting, and Curt just shoves his thumb in deeper, waits for Bucky to start sucking.

"You do deserve it, though," he adds, and Bucky goes lax in Buck's grip, moans around the digit like it's a relief. Curt lets him suck once, twice more, then pulls his thumb out to smear spit along his cheek. Bucky turns his head to chase it, but Buck keeps him steady even when he whines once Curt's hand is out of reach. "Ask me why."

The "why" that falls out of Bucky's mouth is agonized, halfway a sob, and Curt can't help but lean down to kiss him. Tangles his fingers in Bucky's curls to keep him still while Curt fucks his dropped-open mouth with his tongue.

"'Cause you want it, and you're mine," Curt growls into his mouth, and Bucky whimpers. "And my boys deserve everything they want." He straightens up, keeps a hold of Bucky's hair. "Ask again."

"Please, Curt, please, I want it—"

The slap of his open palm against Bucky's cheek is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the moan that rips out of Bucky's chest. He sags in their hold, and Buck lets go of his cock to wrap his arm around Bucky's waist instead. "Easy, John," he murmurs, mouth still pressed to Bucky's shoulder. "Don't pop that socket."

Curt can't help the snort at the thought of trying to explain just how Bucky's bad shoulder got dislocated again to a bunch of nurses. But he shakes it off as Bucky straightens back up and leans back on Buck's chest. "Again?"

Bucky swallows, head tilted into the hand Curt's still got twisted in his hair. He nods, and follows it up with another "please" before Curt can tell him he needs words.

"Atta boy," Curt murmurs, low and pleased. Bucky shivers. He's got that hazy look, the one that says he's floating, brain turned off. Curt catches Buck's eye and tips his chin down, waits for Buck to start jacking Bucky again and times the hit to the upward stroke of Buck's fist.

Bucky's head turns with it, another groan snapping out of him as his hips snap up into Buck's hand. Curt watches his eyelashes flutter, all clumped together from the tears he hasn't let spill over just yet. Can't help but press his thumb to the corner of Bucky's eye, wipe them away.

"You take it so pretty, sweetheart," he says just to watch Bucky shudder. Sometimes he argues with the praise, but he's deep enough now not to. Instead he just bites his lip, eyes slipping closed.

Behind him, Buck hums his agreement, setting his teeth to Bucky's shoulder and sucking a mark into the flushed skin. "What was on your mind in the shower, darlin'?" he murmurs against Bucky's skin, slowing the motion of his hand so Bucky can string two thoughts together to reply.

It takes him a minute, but he gets there. "This," he pants, eyes still squeezed shut. "How t'get it."

"You know how, baby," Curt says, gentling his grip on Bucky's curls and brushing away the tears flowing freer now. "Just gotta ask, and we'll take care of you."

Buck nods, nose brushing Bucky's jaw, and adds, "We wanna."

Bucky's breathing stutters as he turns his face into Curt's hand. He can hide while he chews on that—he's heard it before, but sometimes he needs reminding, that he can have what he wants even if his head tells him he can't, or that he shouldn't want it in the first place. That the two of them love him enough to figure out what he needs and how to give it to him without anyone getting hurt, inside or out.

They've all had enough of that already.

Bucky opens his mouth against Curt's palm, breathes wet and warm. "Please."

Curt has to swallow hard. He brushes his knuckles over the red blooming on Bucky's left cheek, feels the heat of his blood thrumming under the skin. Hot, but not too hot. The right's flushed too, except for the thin line of white scarring ringing Bucky's orbital. No jostling that side of his skull, not even if Bucky begged. And he's tried it. But he knows better about that too, now.

Bucky shudders again, a needy noise hitching in his throat, but he leans into the touch. That decides it for Curt. "One more," he says, and raises his voice over Bucky's responding whimper, "so finish him off, Buck."

"Yessir," Buck rumbles, before he speeds his strokes up. Bucky tips his face up, expectant, but there's nothing hurried or anxious in his expression. He looks calm, steady. Gorgeous, even with tears tracking down his cheeks. Like a statue in church, one of the saints enraptured. Beatific.

Curt's palm stings when he lands the slap, but it's not important. Bucky's mouth dropping open on a moan, the trembling in his thighs, the relief coloring his face as he comes over Buck's fist—that's what matters. Curt cradles his skull as he shakes through it, hand caught between Bucky's head and Buck's shoulder, and something in him settles, a key sliding home in a lock.

"Perfect, Bucky, you did so good," he breathes, planting his palm on Bucky's broad thigh and leaning in to brush his mouth against Bucky's, before dragging his lips across the bright red of his cheek. Bucky moans, weak and worn out, but doesn't flinch away or tell him to stop. "Always so good for us, huh?"

"Took it so well," Buck says, letting go of Bucky's wrists to curl his arm around Bucky's waist again, back to nosing at Bucky's hair, kissing his neck. Bucky leans into it, reaching forward and back to tangle his fingers in both their hair, still shuddering like a leaf in a storm.

He doesn't have to pull either of them in 'cause they're already there, Curt's knee up on the mattress between Bucky's thighs, Buck pressed even tighter against Bucky's back. Curt might've worried about it being too much, the both of them leaning heavy on Bucky while he's still catching his breath, but by now he's pretty sure Bucky'd drag them both on top of him any chance he got, pressing him into the mattress or the wall or the floor, as long as it meant he kept them close.

Buck's usually the first to disentangle himself, and that's what Curt assumes he's doing when he shifts. This time, though, he just brings his hand coated in Bucky's come up and drags his tongue over his fingers, slow and wet, and lifts his brows at Curt when he catches him staring.

"Share," Curt says without thinking, and wraps his fingers around Buck's wrist, tugs Buck's hand to his mouth and does the same, swallows and grins when Bucky's chest heaves against his with a gasp.

"God."

"Nah," Curt replies, "just us."

Buck snorts, and it lights Curt up, the both of them curled into each other and into him, exactly where they belong. He and Buck still have to get theirs, but like the sting in Curt's palm, it's not important compared to the flush on Bucky's face, crawling down his chest. The brightness of his eyes as he looks back and forth between the two of them.

"Come here," he blurts out, moving all at once, nudging Buck further on the mattress behind him, pulling Curt with him. They tumble back into a mess of limbs, legs tangled together, Bucky murmuring, "Come here, let me—" against Curt's mouth, then Buck's, pressing his thigh up between Curt's and his ass back against Buck.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," Curt gets out, and means it more than anything else he's ever promised in his whole life.

[meyerlansky]

what are some fics you think characterize either bucky best?

...am i allowed to say all my own fics here? because obviously i like my own characterization best 😤 an answer from beyond the wood is my favorite take on gale and moon’s low, can’t say no is my favorite take on bucky, because i deliberately dug in on the flaws that make them interesting to me in their respective fics. aafbtw!gale is terrified of his own desires and of disrupting the status quo, to the point that he’s a powder keg of repression and denial and hypocrisy and also you cannot convince me gale’s biggest kink is anything other than voyeurism, and ml!bucky is mercurial and selfish until it’s pointed out to him.

as for other people’s buckies, @redbelles’ gale in the chimneys hardly ever fall down is great—moments of impulsive decision-making that he then ruminates on and beats himself up over to the point that his inaction in the aftermath causes even MORE problems than the impulse did in the first place, which is a refreshing change from the wider fandom interpretation of gale being able to do no wrong and needing to be taken care of as if he’s not A Whole-Ass Air Force Colonel—and belle’s bucky is even better. the GUILT and the SHAME and the YEARNING and the SELF-HATRED and covering all of it by being the most charming son of a bitch west of the mississippi. ruining poor clara’s LIFE!!!

@sweaterkittensahoy’s bucky is also fantastic; the charm and the subbiness and especially the vulnerability laying under the surface that he only lets a few people see. these three fics are smutty curtbucky and these two are crankbucky with a little more plotmeat, and they all have that fragility to bucky, with curt before he’s really broken down by everything and with crank putting the pieces back together with the care and compassion bucky deserved in the stalag.

Whisper We’ll Be Ghosts Again by @searchingfortheuniverse is short and bittersweet and gets a shout out for BOTH the buckies' grief over curt manifesting in exactly the ways i think it would: bucky lashing out and drinking and still reeling himself back from hitting hard enough to make gale drop him, and gale not being able to verbalize something beyond his capacity to handle emotionally without an external push to manage it.

for a... darker, i guess? entry on the list, @shipstorms’ crawl, baby, crawl is also great on both buckies’ characterization but in a Not Charitable way for either of them OR marge, which is, again, A Refreshing Change! fics that address that gale causes problems by being withholding and critical and secretive and dismissive and opaque are few and far between, and because cbc is marge POV, gale’s flaws aren’t front and center, but it’s like a riptide at the beach, driving the whole plot. bucky lashing out in response to gale being withholding hits the nail on the head for me, as does the way he goes about it by being a mean little cunt AND tries to shuck his own responsibility for his actions.

AND FINALLY i would be remiss without mentioning last resort is edge-first into the airstream, which is, hands down, my favorite characterization of bucky AND curt that i didn’t write myself, and i know you didn’t ask for curt characterization but you’re getting it anyway because his POV on bucky in this one is Literally Perfect: “He's selfish in his grief the same way he's generous with his cheer. Whatever it is, he just needs to be at the center of it.” ao3 user TyroleanSpa where are you. ao3 user TyroleanSpa do you know that i love you. save me ao3 user TyroleanSpa.

[meyerlansky]

several sentences saturday!

over the last TWO MONTHS—god i am so sorry—i was tagged by @shipstorms @redbelles @sluttyhenley @ackackh @roseszirnheld and @blood-mocha-latte for this one, thank you guys so much 🖤🖤🖤

since it is so many people i'm just gonna give you guys like 700 words of the dctctc fourquel:

Big hands ‘round his wrists, no gloves for either of ‘em, tugging Curt to his feet. And then he’s nose-first in whiskey-scented fleece, Bucky's arms so tight around him he can hardly breathe. He clings right back, nails digging into the leather and fuck— “Curt,” Bucky chokes out, every inch of him trembling. Any hope Curt had of being able to keep it together goes up in smoke at the feeling, so he just digs his nails in harder, pretends not to feel the hot trails dripping down his collar. But Bucky pulls back, quicker than Curt’s expecting, quicker than Curt wants. “We’re hitting Munster tomorrow,” he stammers, eyes bright, the way he gets sometimes, and Curt’s gut drops. “We can get ‘em back, make them pay—” “Bucky,” Curt says—it barely make it out of his throat, strangled, and it doesn't hit Bucky’s ears, ‘cause he keeps going. “Bucky. Bucky, hang on,” he gets out loud enough to land, and Bucky stops, his mouth already shaped around another we. He didn't think– Jack already knew, so Curt figured– But Bucky's staring at him like he’s a thread away from snapping, like the only thing holding him together is the idea of revenge, them both getting revenge, and Curt’s not afraid of some more blood on his hands, ‘specially not for Buck, but— “I can't fly.” It feels like it's all happening in slow motion. Bucky's brows furrows, his arms around Curt’s shoulders go limp. “Wh—how d’you mean, can’t fly?” he gets out, voice blank while that furrow digs in deeper. Curt swallows another mouthful of bile. “Jack had me sign off soon as I stepped back on base—” “Sign off what?” “The ground duties forms, the—” “What fucking ground duties?” Bucky snaps, yanking his arms away and Curt wants to fucking scream. Of course Buck didn't say nothin’ about that to Bucky neither.  He can't get into that, not when Buck might be—fuck. “RC wasn't gonna let me leave if I didn't agree to it. Bucky, I had to—” “The fuck you did,” Bucky spits. This time he jerks all the way out of Curt’s grip, paces away the three steps he can manage, then wheels back around, looking furious. “So, what, you're just gonna sit it all out? Just like that?” “They wouldn't let me come back,” Curt shouts right back at him. “There’s no radios, no newspapers, no nothin’, I only found out ‘cause Bowman called—” “The fuck is Red callin’ you for?” “—to tell me you were comin’ back early to fly!” They're back in each other’s faces, both of their chests heaving, and Bucky’s face twists, mouth dropping open again. “No, you fuckin’ listen to me, John,” Curt cuts him off, and this time he’s the one to reach out and dig his fingers into Bucky’s lapels. “You zipped back here so’s you can get behind the yoke, and I get it, but what the fuck was I supposed to do? Come back in a week and find out I lost both of you at once?” He can see it hit Bucky like a punch in the gut. It’s awful and Curt almost wants to claw it back. He claws Bucky closer instead. “I couldn't take it. I can't. Bucky, I can’t,” he can’t, can’t let Bucky go, can't believe Buck’s not here, can't lose both of them but can’t keep Bucky from the sky and Buck neither— And then he’s getting crushed again, pinned between Bucky’s arms and chest, like if Bucky holds him close enough Curt won’t have to let him go. God, Curt doesn't want to let him go. Bucky’s making noises against his hair, half-formed words that come out in heaving gasps, and it should be Curt soothing him—that's how this is supposed to go, how it's always gone before. But he can't. They shake against each other instead. Curt’s not sure how long it takes them both to get their breath back. They ended up against the wall somehow, Curt’s back to metal and Bucky curled in over top him, arms crushed to the fuselage and Curt’s back. His face is hot, half stuck to Bucky’s sheepskin, and worse, Bucky’s babbling has run down to apologies, over and over and over—

😈

tagging @goatsandgangsters @drjackabbots @chirpybirdy @platoapproved @sweaterkittensahoy @prevalent-masters and also everyone who tagged me for this one because it's been eighty billion years.