luckydeuce

[luckydeuce]

Word WIP Game...

I was tagged by the amazing @swifty-fox (ages ago) and the loveliest @amiserableseriesofevents (a few days ago), and my words were RISK and GIVE. Had to cheat a little bit, and there's one blank, but here we go!!! R

“I ask because we sometimes conflate those things,” he says, as he always does when he tries to sound more neutral, less accusatory. His lips glisten faintly with moisture—the coffee instant, but at least the expensive kind. “But seduction is different from manipulation. It’s about drawing someone in. A lure. Romance, maybe sex.” He tilts his head slightly. “Manipulation is something else. It’s purposeful deception.”

I

“It’s not my fault.” “It’s not your fault,” Bucky repeats. “Good. More.” Another lash. This one lands across the back of Gale’s thigh. He jerks with a strangled sound—raw, involuntary. “None—fuck!” He almost folds in half with it, Curt’s belt biting deep into the skin on his wrists. “None of it.”

S

“Say it again.” “Green,” Gale whispers. “Bucky, please.” “Good boy,” Bucky says, voice low but clear. “Let’s go.”

K

Kandahar is still looser than Bagram. Maybe it’s the open horizon, shimmering with heat distortion, that makes it feel less claustrophobic, makes John feel a little lighter. There’s a Green Beans coffee shop squatting in a prefab unit, its faded sign half peeling from all the sun, the inside a weak imitation of Starbucks with burnt coffee and worn-out furniture. The PX is bigger than it needs to be, shelves overstocked like his mother’s pantry on Christmas morning—snacks, toiletries, cheap electronics, all arranged under the hum of fluorescent lights.

G

“Good morning,” John mumbles. “Morning?” Paul repeats, glancing over with a crooked smile, faint amusement pulling at the corner of his lip. “It’s past noon.” Christ, John thinks. Fuck. He runs a hand over his face, scrubbing leftover dreams from his eyes.

I

“I love you,” Gale says. 

V

🌫️

E

Everything closes in, a rush of gravity and colour. John doesn’t realise that he sways on his feet, that he searches for purchase with his free hand and doesn’t find it. He has never felt as dead and as alive at once before—not even when he was close to dying himself. And he was, multiple times; every time he gets in the cockpit, if you think about it. “Who else?” he asks, his voice stripped down, automatic. It feels important to know, even though it doesn’t matter. How can it be both—so crucial and meaningless at once? “Most of the starting lineup.”

Tagging a bunch of my crushes @stereobone @weimarweekly @blixabargelds @wayrad @feyd-meowtha and @reallylilyreally if you want!!!! And your word is SALT

[luckydeuce]

+ 6 avatars de Callum Turner

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buckbucky sketch

[luckydeuce]

The summer heat is, unsurprisingly, making me think of new clegan scenarios. 🔥

Imagine John, who's always running hot, wearing his sluttiest outfit just to get through the heat. Nothing but micro shorts, trainers and a baseball cap. Still, he’s glistening from sweat - it catches in the hair on his abdomen and arms as he walks down the broadwalk along the beach, laughing loudly at Curt’s jokes. He’s more sunburnt than tan, and his pink nipples stand out on his pale chest.

Enter Gale, dragged along by Marge to meet her new boyfriend (Curt). Gale's wearing sunglasses (to hide behind) and a billowy shirt that he left unbuttoned almost down to his navel because he knew it would be hot but didn’t want to walk around shirtless. His dark blond chest hair sticks to his tan skin from perspiration, a thin gold necklace dipping into the valley between his pecs. The shorts he’s wearing display his slim legs perfectly.

He’s sipping juice with a straw to stay cool, a blank look on his face that turns mildly amused the moment he spots John in the distance. Unbeknowns to him, that's the friend Curt brought to make sure Gale doesn't feel like a third wheel.

When the two pairs finally meet up, Curt and Marge get lost in their own little world immediately, leaving John and Gale to entertain themselves. Neither of them complains...

[luckydeuce]

do we think bucky would wash the blood from gale’s hands. would he kneel on hardwood and wring a rag in bucket water and even maybe get beneath his fingernails. i don’t think he would ask any questions. i think he would be tender.

[luckydeuce]

[luckydeuce]

fic — rub ‘til it bleeds [buck/bucky]

"I still want to see you through your next heat," John says. Gale meets his eyes. John means it, and he's crazy for meaning it, as crazy as Gale is for considering his proposal. His mouth fills with hot, useless air. "I just told you I get violent," Gale says. "You saw it. I'll kill you." John shrugs. "Didn't kill me two nights ago. I'd say I'm batting a pretty good average." -- Gale has violent heats. John swears he can handle them.

on ao3 | cover art by @swifty-fox ❣️

[luckydeuce]

“I actually came over here to be friendly. Gale’s been talking about you,” said Mr Cleven, his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a thick leather belt and the silver buckle kept catching John's eye. It was impossible to ignore the fact that his face was at perfect hip-height, the older man looking down at him from above. He looked so much like Gale and yet so not. “Oh,” his brain broke for a second as father and son swam before his eyes. “Well, whatever he said was a lie, unless it was good, then it’s all true.”

+++

John is a burnout who works at a fish and chip shop and moonlights as a small-time drug dealer. Gale is the mysterious kid who just moved into the local caravan park with his dad. In a small town like theirs, things aren't always as they seem.

+++

Read Salt and Vinegar Ch1 on ao3

[luckydeuce]

y'all not to praise the day etc etc but i am writing again...

[luckydeuce]

Oh wowww, happy anniversary to my first serious MOTA fic and my first multi-chapter work everrrr!!!!!

And the worst thing was: Gale knew that the heartbreak of it pierced them both in the same moment. Two bodies, one bullet. A story as old as time.

Right before the Bremen mission, John kisses Gale, and Gale kisses him back. In July of 1945, Gale marries Marge; a year later, she files for divorce. It’s September when Gale packs his duffel bag and drives to Manitowoc, Wisconsin. Everything goes so, so very wrong from there.

Author’s note: This is sad, Freudian and horny, and intended to hurt like a bitch.

[luckydeuce]

[luckydeuce]

Swan Feast, Natalie Eilbert

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I've never been on the business end of a bomb before.

MASTERS OF THE AIR Part Four

[luckydeuce]

might be able to drop boxing clegans in the next few days…phew this might be the nastiest clegan i’ve ever written 😜

[luckydeuce]

Aaaaaaaahhhh, either of both: 👻🩰, obsessed with you but also no pressure ♥️

👻 sympathy for the devil

Takeout businesses won’t come to the house. Gale informs him mournfully over the old kitchen table, chucking down his phone and laying bare the sprawling list of numbers on his screen.

“You got all these places?” John says, picking up the phone and scrolling through. There’s at least fifteen numbers here. Minute long calls. Forty second calls. A couple barely past ten.

“All of ’em,” Gale sighs. “Said we’d pay double. Said they could be on damn TV, if they wanted.”

John’s stomach is starting to digest itself. They don’t even have coffee. Gale’s reaching for a ginger beer, presumably for a hit of sugar, and John grimaces at the idea of syrup in his teeth at nine in the morning. “The hell did they say?”

Gale shrugs as he takes a swig. “Drive too long, don’t have the address. Some of them—” he stops. Rolls his eyes a little. “Some hung up soon as I gave it to ’em.”

🩰 to the end of love

“He’s gettin’ in my head,” he’s stammering, trailing after John like some lost dog.

“He’s your best friend.” John isn’t even looking over his shoulder.

Gale breathes deep through his nose. His knee aches with every step to keep up. “He’s tryin’ to mess with me, Bucky, he’s tryin’ to throw me off. He does this, he gets—”

John spins around then, face stonier than Gale’s prepared for. It stops his rambling like a slap. “You are getting in your own head. The way you’ve been actin’, Buck. It’s fuckin’ ridiculous. Maybe he’s right, huh? Maybe you should take the week off.”

Gale’s nostrils flare. “You think I can’t do this? That what he tell you?”

John’s face relaxes into something softer, something worse, and Gale’s skin prickles hot where he lays a pitying hand on his shoulder. “It’s what you’re tellin’ me, Buck.”

thank u angelll wah ❤️

[luckydeuce]

cicada season. a clegan au (ch 14/15, 94k)

While numerous studies have been conducted on the effects of captivity on other classes of vertebrates, very few studies have investigated the effects of captivity and its related stresses on amphibians. Chronic stress results in elevated levels of corticosterone (CORT) released from the adrenocortical cells, which in turn result in hyperglycemia, anorexia, and changes in behavior.

–

“Spencer,” she greets, “Everything alright, Bucky?”

There’s a pause, and then familiar Wisconsin drawl filters through the speakers. “Yeah, Marge, hey– look. Sorry to disturb you so late but– um.” John fades off again and Marge frowns, staring out the open window at the dark shadow of the treeline.

“Is the house okay?”

“Yeah,” John answers quickly, “yeah house is just fine– sorry. Christ, I’m just trying to figure out the words. Uh– look. Okay. Have you heard from Gale today?” 

Read the Author's notes on chapter before proceeding

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thank you once again to @wwasted for another beautiful graphic and @the-ghost-of-jason-todd for beta'ing

[luckydeuce]

“you sound like my dad, john” so i have no choice but to edit them to father figure

crossed post on twitter and tiktok