aliceourpalace

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Gale “Buck” Cleven- Song For Henry

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CURT BIDDICK in MASTERS OF THE AIR PART ONE

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might fuck around and walk into a thick fog and never return idk

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CURT BIDDICK in MASTERS OF THE AIR PART ONE

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Damn

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some more curtbucky omegaverse for your smutty saturday enjoyment. what if i just dripfeed you guys this verse in 1.5k chunks lmao:

Bucky's still a little drunk—and still flying high on getting the 418th back, on Buck going to bat for him—by the time he gets back out to Wild Cargo's hardstand. He doesn't like Harding much—the guy seems like a bigger knothead than Huglin, and Bucky's pretty sure he would've been dropped a few more ranks if Harding could've gotten away with it—but it's not enough to bring him back down to earth.

He swings by the mess first, grabs a third cup of coffee, and tries not to get drunk again off the smug look on Buck's face when Bucky calls him on the letter. Not even the bitter-almond trailing Jack as he storms off cuts through the silk-sheet satisfaction rolling off Buck, and Bucky breathes it in deep, doesn't even hide that he's doing it. That's pack-scent too. That's Bucky's.

Even if it's all he gets, it's his.

But he leaves it with Buck in the mess, and if it's closer to an hour by the time he pulls his jeep up alongside Cargo again, well, Curt'll live. He's not even phased by the wait, from the look of him, sprawled out on Cargo's wing with his cap over his eyes and arms under his head, one foot flat to keep him from slidin' right off. Doesn't startle when Bucky whistles at him, just lifts a hand out from under his head and pulls his other leg up.

"You just gonna nap out there all morning?" Bucky shouts up to him, veins fizzing with near-giddy nerves. He should feel settled back into his skin but he's not even close, jittery and anticipatory and still feeling the thrill of making a bad fucking decision, with no one to stop him except himself.

The breeze catches Curt's "Might've, since some asshole kept me out all night," brings it down to Bucky on the tarmac. "Hatch's still open," Curt tacks on, sitting up and waving a lazy hand towards the fuselage. Bucky leaves his jacket and cap in the jeep, heads for the hatch

By the time Bucky's swung up and in Curt's back inside too, cap in one hand, up on his toes as he stretches full-body, fingertips brushing the compartment ceiling. Alphas like to show off, but this isn't that, Curt's face all scrunched up, unselfconscious and smelling like sleep, not seduction. Bucky's gaze catches on the broadness of his chest pushed out by the arch of his back anyway.

"That all it takes to wear you out?" Bucky says, a second or two after he should've, and drags his eyes back up to meet Curt's.

Who's watching him again, gaze gone sharp while Bucky was taking a look at the rest of him. "On top of all of three hours denned up after interrogation? Yeah, wore me out some," Curt says, voice dry. Before Bucky can do more than grimace at that, feeling the brief bite of embarrassment, Curt tips his chin up and adds, "So? How's the new CO?"

His scent's mostly back to baseline, sleepy and warm but not warmed up. Bucky wants that note back, more than he probably oughta. "Got demoted," he says, shoving that thought down, and grins when Curt's eyebrows hit his hairline.

"Awful happy about a demotion."

"I'm back on missions, I'm over the goddamn moon," Bucky crows. "Jack's stuck on the desk," he adds, and something mean curls in his chest when that's what makes Curt's shoulders lose some tension.

"He'll love that," Curt mutters, but he doesn't push it when Bucky scoffs, just tosses his crusher cap on the pilots seat before he rocks back on his heels and cocks a brow at Bucky. "You eat anything?"

Bucky matches the look. Curt just shrugs. "Oughta soak up all that booze with somethin' more than coffee, but I'm not your momma."

Not my alpha either. He should say it, feels prickly at the idea of Curt worrying about him like that, but that's what pack does. So he hears. And if Curt's not gonna push it, neither is Bucky. "Sure as shit hope not," he says instead. Curt huffs a laugh, and he looks loose enough that Bucky feels okay about stepping in closer.

"'Specially if that offer of yours is still open," Bucky says, a little thrill zipping up his spine at the way Curt tilts his chin up to keep holding Bucky's gaze. "Unless I already wore you out."

There it is—the change in Curt's scent. Bucky breathes it in deep. "Why d'you think I was napping in the first place?" Curt replies, taking a breath of his own. "Could'a just gone back to my rack and my boys."

"You wouldn't have," Bucky says, low, almost a challenge. Curt raises his brows, faint amusement on his face like he thinks Bucky telling him what he would or wouldn't do is cute. It ticks him off. "Wouldn't leave me hanging like that," he adds, trying not to let the annoyance through, trying to keep this friendly.

It makes something in Curt's expression shift anyway, less amused, closer to concern, and that makes Bucky's skin itch in a different way. "Probably not," Curt mutters, shaking his head a little, "even if you deserve it. So," he says over Bucky's aggrieved scoff. "Where do you want me?"

"You ain't gonna tell me, alpha?"

Curt rolls his eyes—not the reaction a line like that usually gets. "C'mon, Bucky, don't be a shithead. You're drivin' here. So? Where you want me?"

Bucky squints at him for a second—it's never that simple, people like to push—but when he turns around Curt follows him through the bomb bay, into the fuselage, no complaints. The cockpit's too tight for two in one seat, and Bucky could plant his hands on the nav or radio table easy enough, but he's in a mood. Doesn't feel like bending over for anyone.

"Siddown," he mutters, flicking a hand at the gunners' catwalk, before he goes for his fly. "And get your pants off."

"Boy, no wonder you're popular. All charm," Curt shoots back, tone sarcastic all the way through, even though he does it, unlacing his boots and kicking them off with his slacks with a quick little shimmy against the catwalk. Bucky shoots a significant glance at his skivvies still hanging on his hips, and Curt just shrugs, says, "Metal's cold. You picked it."

But he's filling them out anyway, cock fattening up under his fly and his scent filling the fuselage, mixing with Bucky's when he steps in closer. His skivvies are on the floor, and Curt just leans back on his hands, watches Bucky with his eyes gone hooded. "Thought you didn't need the whole song and dance, since we're friends and all," Bucky says, shooting for guileless and getting a quiet laugh out of Curt.

And then he's in Curt's lap, knees on either side of his hips—the metal catwalk is cold, but they're both warming up real quick—and Curt sucks in a sharp breath when Bucky grinds down. Bucky grins, smug. He might be the one getting fucked, but he's gonna call the shots, like this. "You want me anyway."

"Got eyes, don't I," Curt says, voice a little tight, but it's still so wry and straightforward that Bucky can't help the chuckle, even as the confirmation settles warm in his gut. Curt rocks his hips up to meet Bucky's on his next grind down, dick hard through the fabric and hot against Bucky's.

"You want it more, though," Curt adds, and Bucky's mouth drops open, expression souring even though, yeah, maybe, but Curt keeps talking. "I wasn't talkin' about sex. Necessarily," he tacks on when Bucky gives him a look and another pointed rock of his hips. "Would've just denned up. Let you zone out. Sleep. Whatever."

Kinda sounds nice, actually. Safe. But safe's not as nice as getting fucked stupid. "You'da come sniffing 'round for more eventually," Bucky replies, teasing. "I know the game, alpha."

He's not expecting Curt's brow to furrow, or his hand on Bucky's hip, grip tight and keeping him still. Bucky's caught off guard enough that he lets him do it. "Ain't what this is," Curt grits out, chin tipped up and scent shifting too, dulling and souring at the edges. "Don't put other guys bein' shitty on me."

Bucky stares at him. Curt stares back, jaw clenched and real anger on his face. Or, not anger exactly. Stung, maybe. The sourness itches in Bucky's nose, and he drops his hand to Curt's wrist, the hand that's still on his hip. "Sure," he murmurs, and he doesn't duck his head, doesn't make himself any smaller. But he does drag his thumb against Curt's wrist, over his pulse and scent gland, and feels it when Curt shudders at the touch. Adds, "Sorry," and surprises himself when he means it.

Curt's stock still for a second, but just as quick his grip loosens and his expression stops being so tight. He presses his wrist into Bucky's touch for a split second, then lets him go, goes from holding Bucky's hips still to just resting his palm there, warm and broad against Bucky's bare skin. "S'fine," Curt says, easy, like that wasn't the most personal Bucky's seen him take anything anyone's said to him. "Just, if this ain't what'll take the edge off for you—"

"Wouldn't be here otherwise," Bucky cuts him off, rolling his hips into Curt's again. His scent's slower to even out, but he's still hard, more than halfway, and he still grunts at the pressure. "C'mon, Curt, wastin' time."

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Damn

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Do you have any thoughts on doing a CurtBuckyGale Eternity au? I was talking to some friends about doing a cleganmarge au and then realised I could do Curt, Bucky and Gale for even more pain 😈

@aliceourpalace and i have been chatting about a curtbuckygale version! it's very funny to me that the most straightforward character-mapping would be bucky onto elizabeth olsen and not onto... the guy he's played by. but i mean, curt already dies in a war! so that feels obvious and hard to resist

i don't think the movie will end in polyamory, though, which is how I'D end both the movie and a cbg AU, personally. or else in curtbucky to buck [ha] the fandom expectation because i JUST can't help myself

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Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?

The Boys in the Boat (2023)

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welcome back major john egan

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can i say something brave and true

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Bushes and Briars//The Pacific

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if you hate him you will die and go to hell

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Yoohoo on Pavuvu

@schofielded