#gale: i gotta blow up.

[wildskissed]

Eve, always bringing her emotional support wizard...but actually this is in the colony, so she's about to become his emotional support sorceress...

[upwards-descent]

I also had developed a winning 3-part strat with Autumn in BG3 where I became king of AoE attacks. Opening with Hunger of Hadar to inflict cold damage + blindness + halved movement, then hitting everyone within with Stage Fright to make them miss attacks more and take psychic damage as a result, then instead of dismissing Hadar, I'd hit them with Concentrated Blast which would simultaneously do 3d6 psychic damage and get rid of the terrain effects of Hadar so Autumn can run in and mop up anyone remaining.

It was... SO aesthetic 🥰 really gave off his proper Murderous Demigod vibes

[skiitter]

i know astarion is babygirl but we gotta talk about the angst of Gale's romance guys. The yearning? The inability to act on it for fear of literally blowing up? The pining and the wanting and the gentleness? Don't even get me started on the tragedy of what Mystra expects him to do. His reaction when you beg him not to fucking kill himself at the heart of the Absolute wrecks me. The hurt/comfort of it all has me ripping up the carpet with my teeth.

[hogans-heroes]

Find the word

How it works: I search for the words prev assigned me in my latest WIP and then choose four words for you to search for in your WIP.

Tagged by @swifty-fox eeee thank you! This was fun because I got to use all my wips! My words were cut, forgiven, pillow, and sleep.

Cut, from mota/bikeriders crossover (name still a secret)

Brucie and Cal had lifted the shattered but still-ferocious boy into the back of Cal’s pickup, leaving smears of blood on the pavement and themselves that clearly belonged to the kid and whoever he’d been fighting. His skinny chest heaved as the guys kept him pinned to the bed of the truck, an unnatural angle to his forearm and cuts so deep Johnny swore he could see bone.

Forgiven, from still-unnamed shifter AU

“You gotta shift John,” Gale panted. “I can’t carry you like this.”

“You shift,” John snapped. “You’re in no shape to go on either.”

“Your ankle is broken!” Gale screamed. The viscous horror he was trying to keep locked away shot razor-clawed fear through his veins, and he staggered over the low scrub that tossed sand down his oversized boots “We had a pact, we make it out this time or we die. So shift or kill us both now!”

John flinched, hand going to the stolen pistol tucked in his waistband. His mouth twisted, eyes turbulent with pleading grief, but if he backed out now Gale would never forgive him for the last few seconds of his wretched life, however long it took him to get the gun from John and do them both in himself. John might argue with him but he knew they couldn’t live without each other, that was tested in the facility too.

The trail of blood from John’s own neck wound glittered in the moonlight, dripping down over his collarbone, and his wild curls and days-old scruff made Gale’s heart ache with longing. John pressed his lips together—taking a deep breath through the nose—and shifted, his tall form morphing in the blink of an eye to a black cat with long fluffy fur, now matted with blood and coarse from neglect. He made a small trilling noise, collapsing to the ground, and Gale scooped him up, clutching him to his chest and starting to run again.

Pillow, from Words of my Hands

Rosie reached for the phone, keeping one hand on the back of John’s neck, dialed the mess hall and requested biscuits and milk brought to his office. And if they had any chicken soup, just the broth.

“I don’t get any meat?” John tried to joke, but his voice came out too weak and the sensation of Rosie’s thumb stroking his neck nearly choked him.

“Doc said no rich foods for a while. Gotta take it easy on that kriegie stomach of yours.”

“Yeah that’s all I’ll ever be, a kriegie,” John muttered, swaying in Rosie’s hold. Rosie made a disapproving noise but said nothing, guiding John up and to the cot shoved in the corner of the room. It had a blanket and pillow and Rosie laid John down, pulling the blanket over him like a child, and went back to sit at the desk while John’s eyes followed him, unblinking. Rosie settled heavily in the chair and met his gaze, too gently.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, then sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “He’s gonna be alright, John.”

Sleep, from a oneshot where Bucky gets drugged in the cooler

“Bucky, talk to me.”

Bucky blinks, then a little questioning “Hm?”

“What happened? What did they do?”

“I dunno. Am I…” Bucky swallows. “They let me go?”

“Yes,” Gale says, petting Bucky’s filthy hair, and makes a decision. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then you can sleep ok?” he murmurs, and Bucky gives another angelic smile.

“Yeah,” he says happily, and the joy on his face is so sweet but so wrong.

I tag @stereobone @middlingmay @carnevol @the-ghost-of-jason-todd @aust-een @skyyguy if you like! And anyone else who wants to, with the words run, drip, blowing, and blue.

[stars-remain2]

I finally worked up the courage to write again. I was inspired by @joeyalohadream and how she never gives up! I’m not sure if this is any good, but I’m tossing out into the void anyway. It’s a start to something I left hanging on AO3 back in May.

Gale awakens abruptly to a body on fire. The pain is so intense that he can barely move. He doesn’t want to move. His eyes remain closed but his brow furrows in confusion and he immediately tenses in fear. The viscous cycle of pain continues on, triggering his mind to go back in time. Trading one hell for another.

His father must have gone on another bender last night. When James Cleven goes out drinking, Gale always ends up taking the hit. Literally.

“No, Dad, no,” Gale moans weakly. “I’ll be good.”

Bucky startles awake as Gale thrashes in his arms. Despite the slight slur in his words, Bucky can understand what he’s saying with absolute clarity and his heart plummets.

“Buck,” Bucky whispers in his ear, “you gotta be still. You’re safe now. I’ve got you. Shhhh. You’re ok. You’re safe.”

Bucky gently strokes Buck’s sweaty hair back from his forehead, repeating the soothing motion to try and calm the smaller man panicking in his arms.

The words “Buck, still and safe” break through Gale’s consciousness and he stills with a sharp inhale of breath.

Gale slowly cracks open his matted eyelids, unsure of exactly what scene will greet him. Was he dreaming his father or was he real? He’s relieved to see John Egan’s very concerned face peering over him from above. It’s still dark wherever they are but John’s face glows in the flicker of a firelight.

“Whaa,” he attempts to speak, the words slurring on his swollen and misshapen lips. Gale is frustrated.

“It’s ok, Buck. Don’t try to talk. You’re ok. Well, I guess that’s subjective at the moment,” John whispers with a concerned grimace.

It all comes flooding back to Gale. The failed escape attempt, being made an example of by the German Commandant and being beaten down in front of his men.

Weakness. He could feel weakness in his bones, especially the broken ones.

He’d been beaten down to a bloody pulp in front of his men. He had been raised by his father to never show a bit of weakness and now here he was, literally being cradled in his best friend’s arms like a baby.

If his father could see him now he’d be ashamed.

“Mmmmppphhhhh.”

“Mmmmppphhhhh.”

That sound, it kept happening. What was it? Where was it coming from? He realized with embarrassment that the sound that was more like a moan of pain - was coming from him.

Bucky tightened his hold on him. “Buck, easy now. Your only job right now is to rest. We are in for the night. The Colonel has us all set up nice and toasty, ok? All the men have been taken care of, including you. I need you to be still and settle down. You don’t need to do a thing but go back to sleep.”

He had so many questions. As if he could sense them, John continued.

“We will continue the march in the morning. I know it’s going to be tough on you. I’ll be there to help, so will all the guys. I promise we won’t let you fall, Buck. I let you go down twice on my watch now and I’m not letting it happen again.”

Gale knew in his heart that he was in no shape to walk for miles in the blowing snow, wind and below freezing temperatures that would be required of him but he didn’t have the heart to tell that to John. He never could disappoint John. So he took as deep of a breath as his broken ribs would allow and said, “K, Jo’nny.”

He feels a gentle kiss on top of his head that makes him smile and he allows himself to once again drift away.

He dreams of planes on fire.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

FSBE 9 - Date Night

You get some.

On AO3.

It don’t work.

“Yet,” Gale stresses. “Which is the entire point of testing. We’ll try again here in, oh, three days’ time? That’s all part of a research strategy. Documentation.”

Man is such a nerd. It’s adorable. Especially since it seems to be pulling him outta that shitty ass commandment from his bitch-ass goddess to blow himself up.

Gods ain’t fucking shit. Goddamn shocker.

Astarion waits at your tent when you stagger over. You’re only a little bleary-eyed, just enough to soften his features and sharpen your tongue.

“Fuck,” you say.

“Hello to you as well, my sweet,” he says. “I take it that means the wizard is finished with you?”

You reach the tent. He does seem to have cleaned up. His hair is in its usual floof, his camp shirt only slightly musty (not a lot of washing y’all can do between a lava lake and this dump).

You ain’t cleaned shit, and you’re a beat down dog, tonight.

“Well?” Astarion says. Waits while you stand there like a loser.

You know, intellectually, that Gale is right. Standardized testing documents changes in a gradual process. One test, especially the first one, don’t necessarily mean shit. If he’s right about the other thing (your lungs go tight trying to form the word because you fucking failed, goddamn worthless) it’ll take time. Like learning any skill. Like them rich bitches from Texas who pay a hundred grand to get a Sherpa local to haul their ass up Everest. Even they gotta spend time at base camp. Let their body adapt. Can’t double the red blood count overnight, and trying tends to cause swelling in the lungs or brain. And then, like, death.

“Still a dud,” you say and almost bite the inside of your cheek to distract from the way your throat tightens.

“A dud?” He sounds out the word like somebody taking a bite of foreign food. Slow. Careful.

Oh, the limits of dirt potion.

“Means I don’t work,” you say.

He cocks his head to the side. There’s something on his face, around the edges of his eyes…then it’s gone, slipped beneath the surface as his usual smarm ass grin spreads across his lips. “You work for me, darling.”

And you can’t help it. It’s so fucking cheesy. Punctures right through the balloon of self-pity and it bursts out of you in a high snort. “Oh my god, you’re such a dork.”

He don’t even lose his grin. “A what?”

You shake your head. The literal etymology aside, you don’t wanna ruin the mood explaining. Besides, the two of you standing out here all but screaming “hookup” to anybody with a set of eyes…

You lift the tent flap. Duck inside. He follows after you.

“No owlbear this time?” he says.

Just your bedroll and your bag. You ain’t got no fancy rugs or nothing. Even if you had been inclined to start hoarding (and you was), the Underdark took everything. You probably didn’t need half a dozen mismatched forks anyway, right?

“I asked Wyll to take him,” you say.

“Oh~,” Astarion fucking drawls. Gives a shoulder shimmy. “Wanted the two of us alone at last?”

There ain’t no goddamn reason for you to get shy now. You was alone with him for over a week down in them caves. Sleeping in his tent, going full Poo-bear. And yeah, he was blind for that one, but you was wrapped up in only his blanket, cooch out, as he lit a fire in his hand to warm you.

All that before he done stuck his fingers up inside you.

Yet here y’all are. You dropped the fur baby off with a sitter and brought home a man. Elf. Vampire. And it’s taking all you got not to squirm at his proximity.

Especially as he closes the distance between y’all.

“It’s been days since I’ve tasted your lips,” he says. Like a normal person. “It’s all rather distracting. All I can think of, when I ought to be paying attention in battle. Terribly dangerous if I’m lost in remembering the next time we’re attacked.”

Holy god, you wonder when he came up with that one. If he practiced it in his head. How many times he did to make it come out like that. Fucking weirdo. (Yet your insides do a little loop-de-loop anyways.)

He’s so close. Offering you, well, you ain’t quite sure yet. But being close is nice. His touch is nice. And you feel rotten. Tired and sore, and that’s before you get to anything physical. All you want is to lean against him and let everything else disappear for a bit.

“So you’re saying I should kiss you better?” you say.

“I wouldn’t want to presume,” says the man sliding his hands along your hips to draw you closer as goosebumps sweep up your arms and down your thighs.

“I mean.” Your breath ghosts over his lips and you also have to fight the urge to twist away. It seems too…intimate. Almost rude. “It’s to save your life, right?”

“Most certainly.”

He’s so hard to figure out. So many different facets. And some of them is downright nasty. Then he goes and does shit like this, and it tugs at something inside you. A fishhook you went and swallowed, reeling you in by the guts.

“We can’t have that,” you say.

He closes the last, lingering distance.

You kissed him all of what, three times? Does one count each session or each kiss? Cause it turns out they come in groups. All blending together into a moment. Lips gliding. The vibration of his voice as he makes small noises. The mortifying sigh that escapes your nose as you fucking relax into him.

And then his cool fingers circle your wrists (arms hanging at your sides like a dork because you ain’t sure what to do with them) (you are, you just…it’s too forward). Bring them up to place your hands at his neck.

You squeak. Can’t help it. Regress twenty years into a sitcom teenager.

He breaks off. Seems more softly amused than anything, thank fuck. “My sweet little treat. You’re flushed, darling.”

You try (and fail) to regain your breath. Without panting all over him. “That’s supposed to happen.”

“Mmm,” he says. Nuzzles against the side of your face like a man-sized cat. “Only when you’re with a talented lover.”

This one comes out a giggle. A soft huff. When he pulls back again, he’s wearing the softest smile you ever seen.

Then he’s sitting. Tugging you down after him. You straddle his lap and your pulse thunders in your ears. Your stomach does a somersault as his hands circle around to the small of your back and he pulls you close. Spread over his lap again.

He kisses you more. Slips a little tongue, this time. And hey! You still ain’t used to that! Still make weird sounds and then your skin burns as you shudder in his grasp.

His lips move, slide up the side of your face. Up to your ear. “How would you like it this time, lover?”

Holy fucking god.

Nobody. Nobody. Has ever said anything like that to you. Your mouth goes dry as all the moisture in your body seems to slam down between your legs.

Any way you want, you want to say. Barely stop yourself (as the ghosts of shameful past scream in your head).

You search his face. Soft. Smarm. All heavy-lidded. The fingers of his left hand brush softly up and down the back of your neck (should you mimic that).

He’s done this once with you. And he didn’t get anything…reciprocal with it. You ain’t sure it’s okay to ask again. Relationships is about sharing, right? So he should have a turn. Right?

“Do you, uh.” You start strong. Chicken out halfway through. Then force yourself to commit like a grown ass woman straddling a man’s lap. “Do you want a turn?”

Yes. Great. Excellent phrasing there, Ripley. So mature. So self-confident.

He leans away a few inches, you think so he can see your face. Something in his eyes…but then it’s gone. And he’s all liquid lust again.

“But what of you, my sweet?”

Oh jesus. God help you. Fucking talking is hard. This is bullshit.

“I mean. I got to. Y’know. Last time.” It’s not sexy to cringe while straddling a man’s lap. Nobody’s lap, but especially not his when y’all are, well, dating (holy fuck). “And you didn’t. I mean. Unless later you, uh. Which is fine! I’m not. It. It doesn’t bother me or nothing!”

He blinks at you. Doesn’t seem like he’s gonna laugh in your face? Just looks…puzzled. “Are you asking if I’ve touched myself?”

No. Cool. Y’all’re talking about masturbation now. This is fine. Totally okay. You’ll just collect yourself, wish him a good night, and then walk outside to join the legion of shadow puppets.

“You don’t have to answer that,” you say. You’re dodging. Covering. It’s stupid obvious, but you don’t care because you wandered into an area you shouldn’t be in, and you need to get out and get out now. “Sorry. I just thought. Um. If you wanted. Uh.”

But he leans in so close his features go blurry. Might as well’ve slapped a hand over your mouth.

“You want to know?” he says, voice gone silky.

Holy shit.

…has he?

Oh neat, now your own voice done left the chat room. You hope it’s having a nice fucking time hanging out with your missing social awareness, common sense, and thirty-five-years-old fucking sense of maturity.

Then Astarion pecks you on the lips. Pulls you flush against him. “Shall I tell you, darling? How I took myself in hand thinking of you? Imagining you just…”

His hips lift. Yeah, he’s hard. He grinds right up against you and it punches the air clean outta your lungs.

“Like this?”

Grinds again. That is an erection. Rubbing between your legs. Y’all are both fully clothed, but that don’t diminish the knowledge one fucking bit.

He did. Holy fuckballs.

He lowers his head to kiss your neck. The tips of his fangs graze your skin as he suckles. He’s gonna leave another mark. Goddamnit.

“Would you like to know how I pictured you? Taking me so sweetly? Singing so prettily as I filled you?”

You clap a hand over your mouth. Who even talks like this?

“Do you think of me, darling? When you touch yourself? When you retrieve that toy of yours?”

Good god almighty, the man is obsessed with your dildo. But, not in a bad way. You think. You heard of that. It, like, challenges some guys and their sense of masculinity or whatever. But this seems almost…envious?

You think of him sliding down, onto one of his own, mouth falling open and you accidentally grind down hard on him.

So now you have to cover for that. “I. I haven’t. Used that, I mean.”

He still rocks you against him. Jesus lord, y’all are dry humping. This is goddamn dry humping.

“Whyever not?” he says.

“C-can’t just. Drop it into the camp pot, can I? Need to boil that sunuvabitch. So I don’t get Faerun herpes.”

One hand stays on the back of your neck. The other slides down, across your hips. Over your thigh. Traces up to the juncture between your legs. He lifts his head to look at you, a silent question. Asking permission.

But he says it, too. “May I?”

This is crazy. He’s crazy. You’re more crazy. A couple hours from killing a man (thing) and going into shock, and it turns out tomfoolery really does turn the brain to scrambled eggs. Because while part of you know this is a terrible idea and you might be a horrible fucking person. The rest of you? Doesn’t really care right now.

“Yes,” you say.

His hand slips between your legs to stroke the outside of your pants. It ain’t nowhere near like him dipping under that blanket in his tent in the Underdark. But it’s still enough you gasp and arch against him.

His lips find your throat again. His fangs scrape. You shiver against him. Then the hand behind your neck moves. Comes around to the front of your stays. He don’t ask, this time. Don’t even try to get under them; he done went and picked up how you shy from that (though sweet baby jesus, the thought of his mouth on your nipple, teeth nibbling…)

“It sounds like we ought to build our own fire, then,” he says. It takes you a minute to connect conversations. “And I don’t just mean like this.”

His hand disappears before his cool fingers slide over the hem of your pants. Settle on the buttons. You’re already slicker than a shit chute. Can feel it as you move.

“I could help you ready for it, darling,” he says. “Bring you to it, just like this.”

He gets the front open. His fingers move down, over your lower belly.

“I could watch you take it.”

But that. That one’s too far. Eyes on you, the whole congregation witnessing your shame. You can’t stop the flinch.

Astarion pauses. Looks to you, his gaze sharp. He plays airheaded, but you seen him demolish critters and people, and the way he looks at you now is similar. There’s brains behind them eyes.

“No,” he says. “Perhaps not that.”

He releases the front of your stays to guide you down to kiss him all sweet and gentle again. Just as his fingers slip inside your drawers and find your clit.

“Oh,” he hums directly into your mouth. “You certainly liked part of that, though. Is it the thought of using it, perhaps? Shall I hold it for you?”

You make a noise. Too loud, too loud. The others will hear. They know (or suspect, bare minimum) what’s going on in here, but you don’t gotta go hollering about it. Might literally die if anybody says anything tomorrow.

The image though. You only got to use that toy a few times (wasn’t even sure it’d fit, but some prep work and going slow and it was fine; only stung a little at the very first).

His fingertip brushes over your clit again. The contact jolts through you.

“You’re quite riled up,” Astarion says. “We mustn’t wait so long between the next time, hmm? Not when we can have this.”

Man sounds a bit frazzled, the edges of his words fraying. Even as he circles you, fingers slipping through the mess down there. Caressing slow and sure, until you start rocking against him despite yourself. You need more, goddamnit. You done this the one time with him, but your body remembers. It already knows his touch brings pleasure. It leaps at it. You want it. God almighty, you want it.

“Please,” you whisper, cheeks burning. “Astarion…”

“Mmm, yes?” His fangs linger over where he likes to bite you. Fingers trace up your spine as his other hands works inside your pants. It occurs to you that the only one holding you against his touch is you. You are the one putting pressure on his hand. And that sets your body on fire.

His tongue presses against your neck. And the idea just pops in there. All on its own. Too many movies. Too many social media posts. But.

You lift a hand. Press it carefully to the back of his head where his hair is downy soft, beneath the stiffer parts he must pomade up into them swoops. You urge him closer, to bury his face against your neck.

“Please,” you say again. “You can. You can.”

He bites. Hot, sharp pain lances up the side of your neck. You gasp and pull away. But that presses his other hand harder between your legs and it hits. The pleasure. The pain. How he grabs the back of your neck, moaning into you and the way his scent fills your nose and the wet sounds of him touching you and suckling at your neck.

The orgasm rips through you. Sends you bucking against him, trying like hell to stay quiet. Slapping your hand over your mouth even as you cradle his head, pressing him to you. You come right on his hand again, his fangs buried in your neck.

This, you realize, is how you’re going to accidentally train yourself into the most embarrassing Pavlovian response in human history.

[bloooodyconsort]

How I gained Unlimited Power by Astarion Ancunin

Acquire as many perks and permanent buff like Auntie Ethel hair, the shadow summon etc etc

Pretend to be helpful so you can gather a lot of valuable allies such as Zevlor and foster a good relationship with your party members

Raise your relationship with Gale because THE Gale of Waterdeep is a valuable ally

Raise your relationship with Wyll because he is the son of a Duke, exiled or not he still got some clout that you can use

Shallow the cringe from doing selfless good deeds like a lame ass hero, because it is an effective strategy to romance Gale

Successfully Romance Gale

Endure Gale's dramatic hang up with Mystra

Pet Gale's flying cat

Commit genocide against goblin and gith, don't worry not even your goodiest two shoes friends will complain about it. You killed them. You killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them. And not just the men, but the women and the children, too. They're like animals, and you slaughtered them like animals. YOU HATE THEM (because ew they are ugly)

Prevent Gale from going Kamikaze for Mystra in Moonrise Tower

Get to Baldur's Gate with your gang

Steal all valuable items that you can find, rob all merchant and kill anyone who get in your way because honest trading is for losers

Immediately confront Cazador, bully his flat board skinny rat ass, steal the ritual and power, then become vampire ascendant

Yay! No more crippling hunger and now you can get a tan without the fear of turning into crispy elven bacon!

Encourage Gale to take the crown for himself to become a God because no way you will let go this once in a life time opportunity

Solve your companions personal issues and quests because you don't want Karlach to blow up and it is imperative for Wyll's dad to be saved (he's a Duke) etc etc

Gather allies to bonk the brain

Defeat the remained dead three and steal Gortash and Orin clothes for the drip

Bonk the brain

Gale will retrieve the crown for himself so he and YOU will become Gods

Okay fine Karlach can go with Wyll to hell as a treat

Hone your ascendant power, congratulations now you can turn into a bat, even some people who have been critical of your ascension will admit that your bat form is super cute. It is a genius PR move because statistic proven that EVERYONE are weak to cute animal and you can spy to learn about gossip and secret

Reunite with your buddies 6 months later, get hammered, spy on them using your bat form, flaunt your expensive clothes because now you are a rich boi, judge your friend's attire

Make out with God! Gale, you gotta admit that he looks badass

Ascend AGAIN for the second time and now Gale will take you to Genshin Impact Heaven his domain

Congratulations you married the God of Ambition and now you are the Ascendant God of Vampires

Conclusion?

[brotherwtf]

Oooh

Bucky is being a mouthy little shit. Gale shuts him up. Cock warming!/blow jobs!/Sub!Bratty!Bucky

on God when is John not being a bratty little shit let's analyze THAT SHALL WE?

but Bucky who just doesn't know when to shut up, will goad Gale on and on until Gale reaches his breaking point, usually just forces him onto his knees but John can still use his mouth when he's down there, so now Gale has to resort to shoving his fingers into his mouth to shut him up

"come on, John, why don't you use that mouth of yours for something useful?" Gale says and he's opening his pants and pulling himself out of his boxers, already half hard from how John looks with his lips wrapped around his fingers

John of course is still being cheeky and he just moans obscenely on Gale's fingers, shoving them down his throat until he's gagging and obscenely rolling his eyes back and Gales just so over John's bullshit

Gale's standing with John pressed into his hip and he gives him no time to adjust before he grabs John by his hair and shoves him onto his cock, smiling at the way John seems to be shocked by how quickly Gale bullies into his throat

"are you done? have you decided you want to behave?" Gale asks and of course John is still a little shit at heart so he shakes his head, bringing his hands up to grab handfuls of Gale's ass but Gale quickly shoves the off, ordering John to put his arms behind his back, he's not allowed to touch

and when John moves to touch him again Gale fucks into his throat, catching him off guard so he puts his hands back down, they continue this until John finally learns to keep his hands to himself

"come on baby, I know you know how to use your mouth, go ahead darling," Gale says after he decides that Johns behaving enough, and John jumps at the opportunity, bobbing his head almost instantly to try and shove it further down his throat, taking it all so so well

John pulls back just slightly to suckle at the head and he has a pleased expression when Gale groans a little, just absolutely loves to make Gale feel good almost as much as he loves being bratty :)

Gale would ask John if he's done being a brat and John would just shake his head, maybe for today but tomorrow he's going to probably be 10x worse, God you gotta love him

[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

Okay so I just read your response to the scumbag John ask and HOLY MOLY that's amazing and very Icemav of them but also very THEM of them

I'll type up a full response after work because it's too brilliant to ignore

While I'm waiting though, I can't help but think, what if its a little scummier? What if Gale doesn't want to sleep with John, has pointedly not had sex for years, and John's mean about it because he thinks Gale thinks he's too good for anyone.

So when they're paired together John is leering and making gross statements about when there bonded John'll have Gale just about anywhere. In the barracks, in the showers, at the O club, real dirtbag stuff. Maybe a little misogynistic too, with the "it'll be nice once we're bonded and Ive got an omega to iron my shirts for me"

And Gale bites back and is bitchy and when they're mated he purposefully ruins shirts and burns dinner and sometimes the sex is more a scuffle than hard and fast. Even their friends are like "okay...this is less a heated rivalry and more like you actually hate him. You gotta fix this" but John thinks they're just being dramatic. Gale's just as into it. John literally made him cum last night.

Then one day Gale is getting dressed and John watched as he tries to yank his shirt up to cover a hickey and not quite get it. Johns about to make a joke when he notices how... Weary Gale looks. Worn down. Gale shakes it off and leaves but John spends the day watching.

Watches as Gale works through comments made about how they're sure Gales alpha is real pleased, and asking if he has had an omega check his work. Gale grits his teeth and ignores it but it's constant.

Johns furious. How dare they speak about his omega like that? In such crass, disrespectful tones!

He brings it up with Gale that evening over their blackened charcoal of a roasted chicken, tells him that John threatened to knock their heads together if they spoke that way about Gale again. Gale scoffs and says "Yeah, where would they get the idea it's okay to talk like that"

And John. John blanks. Because shit. Gale's right. He's slid more into being like his father than he thought. He weakly argues that Gale is fine with it, he hasn't said anything, and he holds his own just fine.

"what like I could fight you back about it?"

And before John can make a better choice he says "please do"

And he's not being sarcastic. He's pleading

Thank you 🥰 Linking for reference Lol y’all know I love me some IceMav 💁‍♀️

This is so tough because even when he’s being an asshole, like in the Stalag, he’s more annoying than actually mean. So I gotta work shop what would motivate him to actually be scummy 🤔

I’m gonna go with it being love at first on John’s end like usual. Like, he is convinced they’re mates from the second he sets eyes on Gale. So, when Gale immediately shuts anything and everything down because he doesn’t trust anyone or anything, John spirals a bit.

He knows he and Gale are meant to be so it’s a huge blow to him that his person did it even try. Just saw him and decided he wasn’t good enough on sight. It’s not really like that on Gale’s end, he’s just scared and John was a lot. However, John starts in on the negative self talk and when he’s all full up of it, he starts directing it outwards.

They’re in the army, which is a breeding ground for gross, misogynistic, douchey language and behavior anyways. So John’s nastiness is just continually reinforced and it really starts to chafe at Gale because they’re roommates so he’s exposed to it constantly. He starts acting a little snotty (understandably) with John and it just reaffirms John’s worst thoughts and fears that Gale is too good for him and he convinces himself that Gale thinks so too. Then the brass decides to pair them up because no matter how hard Gale and John try to fight it they’re wildly compatible and in sync. It sends John completely over the edge.

That’s when Gales becomes his primary target. It is absolutely vicious and disgusting and Gale’s shoulders are basically permanently attached to his ears from how tense he is. John just won’t leave him alone and won’t stop talking about them having sex like he’s owed it and Gale taking care of all the domestic duties like he’s not also a pilot.

I don’t think they’d have sex at first tbh. I think Gale would hold onto his resolve for a while as he ruins John’s shirts, burns all the food, breaks all his stuff under the guise of cleaning and it just aggravates John until he’s grabbing Gale by the face and kissing him as he tries to pull away because he knows it’ll piss Gale off. It’d lead to a legitimate scuffle that turns filthy as they press up against each other because no matter how much they hate each other, they are still terribly compatible and at least physically attracted to each other.

Then, they just can’t stop sleeping together even though it’s lowkey kind of painful every time for both of them. We’re talking scratches, bites, bruises… the works and it’s got everybody side eyeing them so hard. Over time though, the extra stuff really starts to wear on Gale. He’s a pilot, trying to keep up with house duties like a stay at home omega (it takes extra effort to do them terribly), sleep with John every night, and then try to keep from reacting to all of the leering and disgusting comments from other soldiers.

John overhears some of it and gets pissed because Gale’s his omega. He’s the only one that gets to talk to him that way. I think Gale would be so frustrated and exhausted by the conversation when John thinks he’s come to Gale’s rescue and he has to point out that other people only talk to him that way because John makes them think it’s okay and that Gale might bitch back but that he truly has no power to actually defend himself without repercussions. I think he’d sleep on the couch that night because he can’t stand the thought of sharing a bed with John.

I think John would feel guilty enough to offer to be the one to sleep on the couch. It’d would take so much groveling and behavior change for Gale to let John back in their bed and even then he still wouldn’t let John touch him for awhile. They’d have to relearn each other all over again essentially. I think they could get there though ❤️

Didn’t mean for this to take a sad turn like that but here we are lol

[johnslittlespoon]

all the actor/celebrity au posts lately combined with troye bringing ross on stage last night for one of your girls has got me thinking...

a musician x musician au where gale is a troye sivan–esque ultra–famous queer pop star, and john's the singer of a well known indie rock band, and he gets asked by gale's team to star in a music video similar to one of your girls...

to everyone who doesn't know him personally, gale feels like this untouchable pop star. he's been in the industry for years, one of those classic 'i used to make music in my bedroom in my small town' stories, working his ass off before finally a song of his blows up and gets traction and then it's such a fast rise to stardom that he doesn't have time to wrap his head around it.

he never gets used to it, but he doesn't get an ego from it; he still hangs out with the same group of friends he's had since high school, and his team does most of his social media posting for him, because it freaks him out having all that attention, as grateful as he is. he's not shy by any means, not like he was when he started out, but he's not the biggest fan of all the fanfare and interviews and being put on a pedestal and all that. he keeps himself pretty distant online, and that coupled with the diva/superstar energy in his music/projects gives him this air of being on another level– a rare type of star all around.

john has a similar story, the whole growing up on the internet thing, making music in his basement in high school with the friends he's now in a pretty popular indie rock band with, working tirelessly to make a name for him and his friends. but that's kinda where their similarities end.

because john is known for being an absolute shit–poster, a little fiend online, a running joke in his fandom that 'john doesn't know that he's famous', 'should someone remind him this isn't a finsta?' type of vibe. he feels so accessible and down to earth, and while he's just as level headed and humble about his celebrity status as gale is, he displays it by being more present and trying to show the human side of it all, vs gale trying to create distance between gale cleven and the gale persona the world knows.

the band is first and foremost john's thing, but as he's grown in popularity, he's of course gotten offers for other avenues here and there, and at the insistence of his manager he decides to agree to try out a modelling shoot one day. he's not naive; he's more than aware of all the comments going on about his looks, stumbles across more tiktok thirst trap edits of him sweaty and shirtless on stage than he can count, isn't all too sfw in some of his band's songs, either.

he finds it all funny, but he also is someone who will always jump on new opportunities/experiences, and he ends up having a good time modelling, and picks up more gigs as time goes on. this is how gale becomes aware of him, somewhat because gale does occasional modelling too, but mostly because he's worked with a lot of big fashion names for tours and videos, so his and john's circles occasionally crossover, though they never actually meet in person.

so then comes this music video shoot, one that gale's been agonizing over for months, planning every little detail and making sure everything is perfect. it's something that drives his manager (marge? <3 gotta include the angel in every au obvs) insane because gale's got so much on his plate as is, but he likes to be so hands on with his projects, and she knows by now there's no talking him out of that. and everything is going great, until the person who's meant to be starring opposite gale has to pull out last minute due to a scheduling conflict or personal emergency or something.

and the usually very collected and put together gale is freaking out. it's the day before the shoot, everyone involved has already travelled to be on location, choreography is set in stone– this is his nightmare scenario, never doing well in situations where he has a lack of control. it's half of what scares him so much about being as famous as he is, is that he doesn't have a lot of autonomy or control over his own image or how he's perceived in the public eye (and digging deeper into backstory, probably stems from wanting to take back control after a childhood filled with being controlled by family.)

but it's situations like these where he's reminded why marge is his manager and he isn't, because she leaps into action the moment they find out about the cancellation, calming gale down so they can put their heads together to find a replacement. they reach out to a few of the names they have connections to, but it's too short notice for all of them, so maybe marge even just resorts to going through the people gale follows on instagram, and stumbles across john's page. he's got a good rep in industry and has worked on less 'conventional' projects before, so marge shuts down gale's fretting over "would he be comfortable with something like this?" by telling him there's only one way to find out, and contacting john's manager.

john agrees before he even hears the full pitch, and he's just as keen afterwards (albeit a bit nervous because by no means is he a professional dancer), knowing it'll be good publicity, and curious to explore a more artsy/out there gig, but also curious about the illusive gale, who he'd been surprised to receive a follow from a few weeks back.

john is flown out that night to the city of the shoot location, barely having a few minutes to change and head to the rehearsal space, where he meets a very frazzled but very thankful gale for the first time.

maybe they both have some preconceived notions about each other, despite having mutual respect and no actual interactions; john probably expects gale to be a bit stand–offish or conceited given his high celebrity status, but finds gale's actually bashful and quiet and easygoing when the cameras are off (when they're on, it's like he flips a switch, slipping into this persona, exuding confidence and sexuality and it honestly blows john's mind to witness in person).

gale probably expects to john to be loud and abrasive based off his well known social media posts, maybe even a little uncomfortable around gale, who is openly queer, whereas john isn't– maybe john hasn't ever stated his sexuality, has never given much thought to it, it doesn't matter much to him. instead he finds john's actually a little shy, much less bravado than he'd anticipated, but very enthusiastic and eager to learn and get the choreo and everything else right, assuring gale repeatedly that he's down to do whatever is needed.

so the two of them rehearse till the early hours of the morning, john taking it as seriously as though it's his own project he's invested months into, and gale gains such admiration for his commitment and willingness to stick his neck out for a borderline stranger (even though he's obviously aware this is a big boost for john's career). john gains a newfound appreciation for gale's work ethic and how much effort goes into every little thing for a huge artist like him.

and inevitably... there is sexual tension during the rehearsals. they're both overtired and sweaty and it's such a strange situation to meet for like five minutes and then jump right into dancing together so intimately, having to shed any inhibitions and self consciousness, but it's a blessing in the sense that they have to get comfortable around each other so quickly. there's no room for modesty or shyness, and john is genuinely speechless at how gale puts business first, and after double checking that john isn't uncomfortable, how he has no qualms about physically directing john, moving him how he wants him.

it's hot to john, the way gale knows exactly what he wants and is so passionate about his vision, and he'd be lying if he said the combination of being starstruck and being lowkey manhandled isn't getting to his head a bit. which is a whole other thing to unpack, because aside from vague acknowledgement of some men being attractive/beautiful, he's never actually found himself flustered by one like this, and it catches him off guard. he stays professional, but he still can't help but let his naturally flirtatious/joking personality slip out as the night drags on; he's like that with everyone he works with or hangs out with, and he thinks it would be weirder if he wasn't like that with gale, like everyone else would somehow notice.

meanwhile gale is fighting his own demons because he's got a very sought–after, very hot, very straight man dropping everything for him and letting him puppeteer him, on top of being so stubborn that even though gale can tell he's exhausted, john's refusing to call it a night until gale does, and THEN as if all that's not enough, john's effortlessly witty and complimentary and flirty. and gale's not one to mix business and pleasure, so he's not even entertaining these emotions, but he can't help but feel flattered by it all, while also reminding himself that john probably doesn't swing that way.

basically they both are discovering they have competence kinks lmao, like objectively they both find the other attractive, but it's not like they aren't constantly surrounded by beautiful humans in their lines of work, so it's more so the emotional side/work ethic that gets them both flustered, coupled with the inherent sexuality of dancing with very little clothing, hands on sweaty skin and toned muscles. but neither of them act on it, too tired by the time they call it a night even if they'd wanted to, and then it's back to their respective hotels to get a few hours of sleep before the shoot.

john isn't called to be on location until mid afternoon, and when he wakes up to his phone ringing and glances at the time, he freaks out, thinking he's slept through the shoot or something because he'd expected to be called early in the morning. he's told that he didn't sleep through it, but he's disoriented until he shows up, when he's told that gale had moved things around, filming as many scenes as he could without him before john was needed for his part, so that john could get more rest. (john swoons. just a little.)

he gets swept up in the capable hands of hair and makeup and wardrobe in his own trailer, and he doesn't see gale until it's time to film, and when he does, he almost doesn't believe it's gale. the glam makeup, the long blonde wig, the form–fitting sheer black dress and heels– gale's pretty as is, but with his features accentuated like that, john doesn't even know what to do with himself, feels like he's going through a midlife crisis at the ripe age of 25. he'd known gale would be in some sort of getup for their choreo, but nothing could've prepared him for this.

it makes it even more endearing that gale seems so awkward about it when he greets john, clearly out of his comfort zone in the ensemble, but john knows there's no way gale doesn't know how stunning he is, it's not a lack of confidence that's making him awkward. john keeps it together, reminds himself to be professional. tells gale it was really sweet that he let him sleep in, that he didn't have to do that, to which gale waves him off like it's no big deal. and he compliments gale too as they walk onto set, tells him, "you look great, wow," tame as he can be, and gale tells him "could say the same for you," and john snorts, gesturing to his simple jeans and boots and lack of shirt, says "feeling a bit underdressed, actually," and it gets a laugh out of gale.

when the cameras are rolling, any of that visible discomfort or awkwardness in gale disappears like someone's snapped their fingers and rid him of it, movements fluid like water, not an ounce of anything other than confidence and power and sensuality seeping through as he commands the camera with his energy. despite his aching body, john's grateful they ran the routine into the ground last night to the point that it's nearly muscle memory, because it's hard to concentrate when gale's looking down at him through long faux–lashes and gloss–plumped lips, caressing his jaw, playing with his hair, the sway of his hips and roll of his waist beneath john's hands so mesmerizing, john's half convinced he's being serenaded by a siren.

the tension would be insane, but equally confusing because neither of them would be able to discern what's an act and what's not, or if it's all just an act, pushing and pulling at an invisible line but never quite stepping over it even once the shoot wraps, both for the sake of professionalism but also for fear of rejection.

maybe after it all, john's on his flight back home and realizes in the whirlwind of everything, he never got gale's number (has a moment of 'why would i need it? this was just a gig' lol okay yearner). john's not even sure at that point what/how he's feeling about gale, the conflicting emotions of feeling attraction to him while in borderline drag doing nothing to help the confusion, especially because he can't excuse the attraction as just that when he was feeling things during rehearsal in casual clothes too.

he knows he could easily ask his manager to reach out to gale's manager for his number, but then he gets in his head convincing himself that if gale had wanted to talk further, surely he would've asked for john's number, since gale has way more reason to be selective with his own with his status.

he doesn't realize that on the other end of things, gale's realizing he also never got john's number, only he's talking himself out of reaching out because he doesn't want to read into john's friendliness as something flirtatious when as far as he knows, john is straight, and this was likely just a job for john, as well as they seemed to get along.

cue miscommunication when one of them actually works up the courage to dm the other on instagram since they're mutuals– either john dms gale something simple, a 'thanks again for the opportunity', and because gale is never on his socials and gale's team doesn't check messages much, it's weeks before anyone clocks john's message, during which john becomes sure he's nothing more than a coworker to gale, which he understands but is sad about. or, gale dms john, but from a private account with an innocuous username that he has just for friends and family, and john never even opens it because the lack of profile picture and generic user blends in with all the other message requests he gets a day.

they only end up reconnecting when the music video actually drops, because obviously it breaks the internet, and john happens to be doing promo interviews and radio shows at the time for his band's new album and tour, so an interviewer of course asks him what the experience was like working on a set like that and working with gale. john gives a glowing review, goes out of his way to praise gale– "the nicest guy you'll ever meet, and the craziest work ethic i've ever witnessed firsthand in hollywood."

when the interviewer asks if john would ever consider working with him again, y'know, the classic question an interviewer has to ask so they can drum up clicks with a 'john egan hints at possible future project with gale cleven!' title, john lays it on thick the way he always does with a wink at the camera and a "he can call me up anytime," but then adds a serious "no, really, i would love to work with him again, he was great."

predictably, the people who are already losing their shit over the music video and making edits and fan theories about the two of them go even crazier, spam–tagging gale and his team in the comments of this interview post, which leads to it eventually making its way to gale, and gale then realizes that john hasn't been uninterested; he must've just not seen his message since surely he would've replied if he had (marge looks at him with so much disappointment when gale mentions his attempt to reach out– "gale, no one with that kind of following is going through dm requests from faceless, private instagram pages, you of all people should know this").

gale hasn't told marge about his possible feelings, but marge isn't dumb; she didn't stand on set for nearly 24 hours with her eagle–eyes and not notice the way gale had been looking at john. to anyone else, it might've just seemed like he was leaning into his persona, but marge has known gale for a long time, and she could tell it wasn't all him playing it up for the cameras.

so marge puts her manager–brain and best friend–brain together and decides that with all the hype surrounding the new song and video, the two of them being seen together in public and making a few posts together would be a great boost for both of them. but she knows gale will never go for it if she voices this to him, because he'd see it as using john for popularity; she reasons that if he doesn't know, it can't be using. so she reaches out to john's manager and figures out when they'll both be back in the same city, and relays her plan as if it's just business, asking for john's manager to let john know that gale will be in town the next week if he wants to set something up, and she gives the manager gale's number for john to contact.

when gale wakes up one morning to a 'hi, this is john! my manager passed on your number to me, hope that's okay. i was told you're in town next week? :)' and then 'egan. btw. lots of johns out there.' and then 'the music video guy.' (john, absolutely panicking on his end, worrying that gale might not even remember his name, not knowing gale's been stalking his socials and confusion–pining just as much as john has been doing the same.)

and then more miscommunication after they arrange to hang out, because john assumes this is just for publicity based on what his manager told him, and he understands, as much as he wishes they're hanging out properly. but gale assumes this is a genuine hangout, because john never says otherwise, until the end of the evening, when gale has to leave for a dinner event and john says "we better take those pics for the 'gram before we say goodbye, or the big guns'll have a fit."

and either gale masks his surprise and then disappointment and goes along with it, thinking maybe he missed a memo or misread things, and this conflict and miscommunication is dragged out even longer, or gale doesn't hide his confusion in time, and john is then equally confused, says "your manager didn't...?" and gale says "sorry, i didn't know; i guess i misread your texts," feeling stupid that he's been thinking the hangout is anything other than a pr stunt. and then there's the awkward "no! no– well, yeah, i was told that this was to promote the video, so i thought– i mean, i would've liked to hang anyway, i just didn't think you wanted to?" from john.

gale is slowly connecting the dots in his head and he's so embarrassed, but also relieved that he hasn't misread things and made a fool of himself. john looks on the verge jumping out of his skin as gale sits quietly, so gale puts him out of his misery, smiles and pushes his irritation about the incident down and says "i do want to, john. i think marge– it doesn't matter. it was a miscommunication, i guess." and all the tension evaporates out of john's body, and he lets out a laugh, and a "oh, thank god. fuck. i was about to walk into the street," and gale lets himself relax too, scoffing at john.

so they decide to have a redo the next week, since they both do feel obligated to take their stupid pictures now to please their teams (and the internet), and thus a tentative friendship is born, the two of them dancing around each other and around feelings because everything is confusing as is, let alone with the way their careers affect every aspect of their lives. so much slowburn, lots of john trying to figure his attraction out and gale keeping his walls up because the thought of literally becoming the person he's singing about in his music video is laughable, he doesn't wanna be strung around or used as an experiment for john.

and john respects this unspoken boundary and also appreciates that they can get to know each other as friends while he tries to stop freaking out every time he pictures him and gale doing less than platonic things. probably a whole lot of chaos on john's end with the absolute tornado that he is, ie: '4am 'am i gay' quizzes taken in the dark of his bunk on a tour bus, asking an openly queer friend from his band if his feelings toward gale are normal, rumours started by a fan that they saw john in a gay club after a show, etc.

because john doesn't do anything halfway– he's ready to literally go out and kiss men and explore his newfound feelings, not just to prove himself to gale, but to figure himself out, because he's terrified of hurting gale since john doesn't have the best track record with relationships. overthinks the shit out of everything and doesn't realize it's not that deep, that liking gale doesn't mean he's suddenly attracted to all men, that all gale wants is for john to be confident in himself and his feelings for him before pursuing anything.

there's a lot of back and forth and messiness and emotions stacked on top of their already crazy hectic schedules and lives, the theorizing and prying from fans and paparazzi, caution from management, but when they eventually have their point of no return moment and cross that line from friends to more, the chemistry is so intense that both of them feel stupid for dragging things out for so long.

when the initial new relationship shyness wears off, the sex is also insane, all the exploration and playfulness (and inevitability of the whole feminization thing coming back into play since that's what starts everything in the first place lol). they're barely able to keep their hands off each other, almost always spending the night at each other's places, stealing as much time as they can to make up for the time apart when there are tours or other events separating them.

they try to keep things private for a while, but with how active john is online, he slips up a good few times– tiktoks where a hat or something of gale's is accidentally left in the background, story posts where john's wearing one of gale's hoodies unthinkingly, mirror selfies where there's a mystery hand or leg in the background. the internet is torn, some convinced it's coincidence, some certain it's all a pr stunt to get people talking, some adamant that they're in a secret relationship. gale's never upset about it; they both just know how much things will change if they go public.

months are spent sneaking around, rarely going on public dates, the odd paparazzi shots still leaking out until it finally gets to the point that there's no point hiding things anymore, it's obvious that they're not just friends. they never actually announce it or make some relationship launch post; they just stop caring, and it's freeing and neither of them expect to be so affected by being able to publicly show affection for each other, but it's such a sweet thing and makes things feel so much more real.

john goes to gale's sold out arena shows and stares up at him in awe and can't believe that gale chooses him every day, and gale goes to john's band's high energy festival sets and watches his golden boy light up with joy every time he glances at him side stage and can't believe john chooses him too.

:-)

lol this post was meant to just be the two lines above the cut but then i got to thinking about origin stories and whoops new au drabble because i'm a master at getting carried away!!

[rambleonwaywardson]

Olympics AU: I would love to see Bucky talking about his relationship and his uncertainties with other people, could be Curt but you could also get quite creative with it. He could even talk to Whiskey! An outsider POV would also be a lot of fun in this AU! 💖

I love this ask, thank you so much anon. I actually wrote two separate snippets about this, both very big on the "uncertainties" part of it. One with Curt (which got a bit long) and one with Whiskey, so I'll put them both here 😊❤

Whiskey (takes place after Morning After/Dressage):

“You can just stay here,” Gale says, motioning vaguely to Bucky, Whiskey, and the stall around them. “I’ve just gotta talk to Chick for a minute, I’ll be right back.”

Bucky smiles and tells him to go. Gale asks if he’s sure he’ll be alright in here alone with the horse. “Yes, Buck,” Bucky laughs. “We’re best buds now.” He scratches Whiskey behind the ear and she leans into it, as if to prove the point.

Gale lets a sweet little smile slip, giving Bucky a look that brings only the word 'lovestruck' to mind. It makes Bucky's heart beat faster. Gale nods, though, taps Whiskey on the nose, kisses Bucky on the cheek, and ducks out of the stall.

Bucky shakes his head as Gale walks away and shoots a glance over his shoulder just to double check. Alone with the horse, Bucky tilts his head, looking at this magnificent animal who spooked at her own poop after Gale’s ride and currently has hay all stuck in her forelock after only being in the stall for 20 minutes. She sure is pretty, though.

Bucky strokes her soft neck, scratches her face, runs his hand down her nose as he thinks about Gale. Beautiful, sweet, kind Gale Cleven. Whiskey blows a hot breath and shakes her head before nudging at Bucky's hand for more attention. He obliges. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, pretty girl,” he says quietly. 

He glances over his shoulder to make sure he’s still alone before letting out a deep sigh. “He’s such a great guy. You know that. I don’t have a whole lotta experience with good guys. I-”

He laughs mirthlessly, shaking his head at himself. He’s really standing here, unpacking all his baggage onto a horse. But, hey. That’s what Gale does, isn’t it?

“He deserves better than me,” he whispers as he scratches up under the horse’s forelock. “I’ve got too much baggage, Whiskey. Too much shit I’m working through. I’ve never had someone like him in my life…” He takes a deep breath and lets it out real slow. Whiskey rubs her head against his shoulder, and he smiles weakly. “I don’t know how to love someone. I don’t know how to let them love me. I don’t know if love is something I get, you know? It hurts too much.” 

His sister. His ex. His shitty dating history. His fear of commitment. His fear of failure. His fear of loss and pain and heartbreak and betrayal and love. His inability to let himself be happy. Something that he never had a single problem with before 2021, but ever since has assaulted him day by day out of absolutely nowhere. It’s all shit his therapist has tried to work him through, but he just can’t seem to believe that he deserves something good like Gale. 

“I love him,” he whispers. And he hates that he feels the hint of tears welling up behind his eyes. “But I’m worried that I can’t.”

Curt (takes place during Event Finals Part 1):

“Ow, what the fuck?” Bucky glares at Curt, who just flicked him hard on the side of the head. “What was that for?”

“Stop bein’ an idiot,” Curt tells him. 

They’re sitting across from each other in the dining hall the morning before their rings and vault event finals. Bucky had looked longingly at the chocolate muffins, but, hours before a competition, opted instead for eggs and a bowl of fruit. It doesn’t much matter, because he’s hardly touched the food on his plate. Instead, he’s staring at his phone, which is sitting face up on the table. Displayed on the screen is an article about him. Specifically, it’s about him and Gale and the whole saga of John’s messy dating life, including his forced coming out. 

“That’s actually not possible. I’m an idiot by trade,” Bucky mutters. 

Curt rolls his eyes and grabs Bucky’s phone. He exits out of the article, turns it off, and tucks it beside his own plate of eggs and bacon. “Quit readin’ that shit, it’s no good for you.” He takes an aggressive bite of his eggs, swallows, and points his finger at Bucky. “You need to get your head on straight about Gale.” 

Bucky pouts and takes a hesitant bite of a piece of pineapple. “Care to elaborate?”

Curt cocks his head, unamused. “Quit psychin’ yourself out over him! Every single time you catch yourself bein’ happy with him, you get all antsy. He’s literally the perfect guy. You’ll never find anyone better. And for some reason he really likes you. Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?”

Bucky’s pout deepens as he slouches in his chair, playing with the eggs on his plate. Curt wishes he’d fuckin’ eat something. He can’t go into rings finals on an empty stomach, but it seems, short of Curt shoving those eggs down John’s throat, it’s not gonna happen until they address whatever this is. 

“You know why,” Bucky mumbles. There’s about a thousand different reasons why.

Curt rubs a hand over his face and takes a sip of orange juice to keep from screaming at his best friend. 

“John,” he says. “I know it’s been hard the last few years. I know you’re freaked out ‘cause of your sister. I know you’ve had shitty luck with guys in the past. I know that asshole screwed you over and violated your privacy to the highest fuckin’ extreme, and trust me I hope his life is a living hell for that. But you’ve stumbled upon the jackpot of possible boyfriends. So don’t you think, maybe, you need to just give it a damn shot?“

“You know it’s not that easy,” Bucky says defensively, setting his fork down aggressively before picking it up again with a shake of his head and returning to shoving food around his plate.

And yeah, Curt does know. He’s watched Bucky go through it all. It’s been almost exactly three years and one month since his sister died, and Bucky has never recovered from that loss. Curt knows he’s scared of letting someone into his life, because he’s scared of losing them. He’s scared of heartbreak. He’s scared of getting close to someone. He’s scared of letting them close to him.

Curt was there when Bucky went off the rails. He was there when that shitty ex told the whole world that Bucky’s gay. He was there for the backlash and for the support and for the rollercoaster of figuring out how to work through that exposure. He had to tell his fair share of people to fuck off when they got in John’s face about it or talked shit behind his back. 

“I know,” Curt says. “But you have to start somewhere. Don’t you think Gale is worth that?”

Bucky is quiet for a long time. He takes two bites of eggs, and Curt watches every move. Finally, he says, “I… I think I’m scared?” He shifts in his seat, avoiding eye contact as he says it. But hey, that’s a lot of progress right there.

Curt nods, thinking maybe that therapist Bucky’s been talking to since the accident is actually worth something beyond getting him back in the gym. It’s amazing, he thinks, how much the world doesn’t know about John Egan. All they see is the gymnastics golden boy with a winning smile, back for another round after being dragged through the shit. They don’t see this part of him. 

“I know,” Curt says.

“I haven’t had a real relationship since I’ve been out. Curt, I don’t… that fuckin’ sucked, man. I can’t deal with that again. I can’t-“

“Do you really think Gale is the kinda guy to hurt you like that?”

“No,” Bucky admits. No doubt about it. Because Gale isn’t that kind of guy. At all. 

“And you can’t be forced out of the closet twice,” Curt points out. “So isn’t it time to let that work in your favor? Let yourself have a real relationship, without carin’ about anyone else?”

Bucky shrugs uncomfortably and his voice gets all quiet. “I don’t know how.” 

Curt laughs and rolls his eyes again. “You just do, John. You’re doin’ it already. He makes you happy, you guys are attached at the hip, you look at him like he hung the goddamn moon. And he looks at you the same fuckin' way. Just stop bein’ stupid about it.”

He hesitates over his next words, unsure if they’d be a step too far right now. When Bucky still has a day of competition left. But he takes a breath, and he says it anyway. “She would tell you the same thing.”

Bucky nods and hides his face in his hands. “I know.”

“She’d want you to be happy,” Curt adds, pushing on. “It would kill her if she knew you were bein’ stupid cause of her.”

Bucky nods and grips his hair between his fingers, clenching his jaw. He squeezes his eyes shut. Curt sighs and reaches a hand across the table to lay on Bucky’s bicep. “She’d want you to find someone to love. That loves you. She’d want Gale for you. I know it.”

“I miss her,” Bucky says quietly. 

“I know,” Curt says again. “I know.”

It takes a few minutes to recover, but Bucky finally pops a grape into his mouth. Then a strawberry. Then he gets back to work on his eggs, slowly, slowly. He looks up at Curt, works his jaw nervously. “You went to school with Gale, right?”

Curt nods. He didn’t know Gale real well, but they had classes together. They talked here and there. Hung out at a party or two when Marge would drag Gale out a few times a year. 

“Has he always been like this?” Bucky asks.

“What?” Curt quirks an eyebrow up and smirks. “Hot? Sweet? Funny? Smart? Humble? All around lovely?”

Bucky laughs a little and nods. “Perfect, yeah.”

“Yep,” Curt says. “He has.“ And he’s telling the truth. That’s just quintessentially Gale Cleven. 

Bucky shakes his head and swallows another bite of egg. Curt breathes a quiet sigh of relief. But then Bucky gets all quiet again. “I’ve never dated anyone who… just… I’ve never…”

Curt sighs. “Never dated anyone who treated you well.” God knows that’s true. Of all the guys that Curt has seen Bucky date, not a single one has ever seemed to truly care about him in any meaningful way. They’ve all been manipulative or noncommittal, just in it to say they had sex with John Egan. Just in it to say they could claim John Egan. Just in it for his body, for his face, for his name. Like he’s some carnival prize. Not a single one has ever treated him like the actually amazing guy he is.

Bucky nods and frowns, shrugs sadly. “Maybe I don’t deserve someone like that.” 

Curt won’t stand for that. Because it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “John, look at me.”

Bucky flicks his eyes up, and Curt holds his gaze. 

“Usually I’d be an ass and say you’re right cause that’s how we work. But I’m gonna tell you this ‘cause I care about you.” He sets down his fork, reaches a hand out again to poke Bucky’s arm. “You deserve the world, man. You deserve every good thing comin’ your way. And it’s not because you’ve been through hell. It’s ‘cause you’re a great guy. You’ve worked hard. You deserve it all, okay? You deserve someone like Gale Cleven who will love you and make you happy and take care of ya. Hear me?”

Bucky shrugs again, and Curt flicks him on the side of the head. Again. Bucky glares at him. It’s not a lesson Curt expects him to learn right here and now. It’ll take an awful long time, if Bucky ever learns it all. But Curt can at least play his part by telling him, in no uncertain terms, that it’s true.

“Stop bein’ stupid,” he adds. “If you don’t hold onto this guy with all you’ve got, it’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.”

[melancholicbard]

inspired by this fic by @senualothbrok

GalexTav yearning fics are such a vibe and reading this one got me thinking

a scenario with a bard!tav (very music specific)

Casting inspiring speech but in a song form

The song: From now on from the greatest showman

Set before the final battle against the elder brain; that scene where they ask you to say a speech after you’ve recruited all your allies

Everyone is uncertain, scared, facing the biggest threat that could change their lives forever, not knowing if they’ll make it out alive

Starting with the small soft verse sung by Tav; a soft declaration of the chosen family, the companions, perhaps the romanced partner

Building the chorus, bard!tav sings a line and gets the companions to join in

Getting Karlach Gale and Halsin to sing the melody (I feel like karlach and halsin have the tavern-singing vibe that would carry the melody)

Wyll and Shadowheart on the high harmony (I imagine they’d have more refined voices; at least Wyll probably would have had some training being raised in nobility and shadowheart’s seems to be in the right range)

Astarion Jaheira and Laezel on the low harmony (would possibly switch Astarion and Halsin because it feels like halsin’s voice would sit well on the low harmony but again I just feel like he has that jovial singing vibe with Karlach to carry the melody)

Minsc drumming away (he literally just randomly sits down and starts drumming when in camp)

Bard!Tav comes back in on melismas and the super high harmony (maybe if Volo is there he helps harmonize with the bridge section — I’m trying to be realistic with the voices and musical knowledge)

Building the chorus, swelling, dancing, rousing their spirits to believe we WILL come back home we will succeed we will win (think that dance scene from tangled in the town square)

Bard!tav indicating to them

Dropping to a hushed voice all together, holding hands in a circle; acknowledging the scariest and most important battle of their lives, the final battle after a long arduous journey

The last line, looking into the eyes of the one(s) you care about most; promising you’ll come back home to them

If you’re romancing a character:

Gale: it’s a promise to both of you; we WILL beat the netherbrain, you are NOT blowing yourself up, we’re going to get you that crown, return it to Mystra and cure you of the orb, and we are both going home

Halsin: we’re going to go back to the former shadow cursed lands and build a new home for everyone that needs it together

-not related to this scenario but I wanted to highlight this fic by @drabblesandimagines

Astarion: if the sun burns you after the tadpole is gone, I will stick by you and we will create a new home, a new life

- inspired by this fic by @astarioffsimpmain where he turns into a bat temporarily

Wyll: we’re going to survive this and we’re going to hunt down mizora (and help Karlach hunt Zariel and fix her heart for good) or stay in baldur’s gate and rebuild the city from the ground up (depending on what ending you chose for him)

Karlach: we’re going to survive this fight, you’re going to be fine, I’ll be with you as we jump into Avernus, hunt down zariel, fix your heart, and get you back into the mortal plane so you can live out your life and be able to hug everyone (please she’s such a cinnamon roll)

Shadowheart: we’ve freed your parents and they’re watching over you as moon motes; we’re going to survive this fight and then we’re going to help you figure out how to move on, how to heal, everything that was taken away

Laezel: we gotta go kill Vlakith and you’re going to raise that egg (I’m sorry I’m not familiar enough with her story line)

Can someone write this as a hurt/comfort fic 😭 please hit me with the feels

also if I had animation skills I’d try to make this into an MV

If anyone wants to sing with me lowkey I’d want to make this into a thing

[faegoddessog]

Day 25: What happens when- 🛎️🛎️🛎️We’d like to interrupt this story to bring you a fandom favorite moment from the MOTA/ Clegan/ Buckies Fandom. <roll tape> 

<Scene is post-long run mission into Africa. (Regensburg-Schweinfurt mission) Our boys are lying around, awaiting their promised beers in the desert. After such a deadly and dangerous mission, John just can’t keep his thoughts straight (pun intended) and suddenly finds himself wanting to reaffirm life in the most vigorous way possible.>

January's DDof AB @dailydoseofaustinbutler

Warnings: Mature Content 18+, m/m fellatio, cum swallowing

Peeps who may want to know! , @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke @peggyao3

Gale is 10 feet away,  in the sun, shirtless with his eyes closed and hands tucked behind his head like a pillow. One knee casually up, legs apart as though he needed a little space there. The ever present toothpick poking out from between his lips.

‘Fuck me, those lips’ thinks John, lying against the wheel of his bomber, prefering shade to the hot sun. He was peering sneakily around the pin-up mag DeMarco dropped on his chest.  A busty gal with red lips graces the spread he’s opened to but not really looking at. Don’t paint him wrong, Bucky likes gals, truly he does. But dammit if Gale doesn’t stir up things in his gut, always had.  It’s part of why he gave him the nickname Buck. Calling him Gale brought all the gritty want to the surface, better to call him Buck, easier to keep him close without shoving him into the closet and forcing himself on those pretty lips. 

“Fuck me, those lips,” Bucky says out loud. 

“Yeah, ain't she just a frame dame?” says DeMarco, nodding to the periodical.

“You bet, she’s got some hot cakes to boot,” says Bucky without thinking, snapping his eyes back to the page. “Mind your letter to your girl, some of us don’t got that luxury.” 

He reseats the red fez on his head. He wasn't sure where it came from, but hell, if anyone’s gonna wear a goofy red pill box on their head, it’s gonna be Bucky. 

DeMarco shakes his head and goes back to composing poems or whatever.

Major Egan sighs to himself, turning the page. Another dream puss with red lips, this time blowing him a kiss…

His eyes droop. Lips, red lips. Pretty lips just waiting, waiting for him. 

John is crawling through the thick sand towards Gale. It drags him down, makes him work hard but he’s determined. Finally he breaks free and Gale is right there, under him. Half naked and hot as hell. Balancing on one arm, John yanks the toothpick out from between those gorgeous lips.  

“Hey!” exclaims Gale, squinting one eye open. “I need that, gotta keep my mouth busy.” 

“I can give you something better for that mouth, Gale,” quips John. 

“I bet you can,” Gale's hands slide against John’s sides and to his waistband, tugging at his clothes. 

The sound of his own belt buckle clinking open fills John’s ears. If he’d known it would be this easy, he’d have never called him Buck. Would have dressed him in shiny new clothes, and took him for a spin long ago. Would have spent the past few months quietly kissing his boytoy goodnight as he crawled  between his knees on the narrow bunks.

John straddles that handsome face, balls and all out over the buttons of his pants. His knees are on either side of his best friend’s blonde head. He aims his big cock for that pretty mouth. Gale takes him easily, greedily even. He swallows John deep,  his pink plush lips wrapped around the thick shaft. 

John pistons into his soft open mouth. He luxuriates in the gagging sounds and spit dripping over Gale's cheeks and down his upturned neck.  

He leans back to unbuckle Gale’s trousers to find that Gale already has his hard cock out and waiting, lightly squeezing and releasing. Precum glistens from the pretty pink tip. Same color as his lips. 

John moans and pulls out of Gale's mouth with a pop. 

“I just gotta have me somma that,” he says, flipping over.  

John didn’t realize he had an oral fixation, wouldn’t even know to call it that,  not until he put Gale’s cock into his mouth. Fuck, it tasted so good, and filled his mouth so perfectly. The skin is surprisingly soft on the hard shaft. Strangely, it made John’s swollen dick ache. Then Gale’s mouth was wrapped around him again with a mind numbing moan vibrating down his length and into his balls. 

Suddenly the thought of Gale’s jizz coating his mouth and his own dripping from the corner of Gale’s drives him into a frenzy. He pumps Gale’s base with his hand, begging for the man’s spunk.   

“Major, I’m cumming” Gale says somehow also gagging on John’s dick.  Without a thought, John sucks hard on Gale's cock. “Cumming, cumming” moans Gale, his gentle hands fisting into the black curls at his crotch while  thrusting into John’s mouth.  Hot cum shoots onto the roof of his mouth. He does his best to swallow around the tip of his best friends’ cock. 

“-coming, Major they’re coming” a voice, not Buck’s, is saying. Bucky’s eyes jerk open to the underside of his fort, and the moustached face of DeMarco, nudging his leg with a boot.  

“Dreaming of large women with pretty lips were ya?” he nods to Bucky’s crotch. The hard-on he has could be seen from 10,000 ft. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he mutters. When you’ve been through hell with guys, shit like that doesn't surprise anyone. 

He sits up and glances over at Buck. The blonde is squatting in the sand, looking off into the horizon at the planes coming for them. Holy shit his ass looks good from this angle. He suddenly wonders what it’d be like to ride it. He shakes the thought from his head. 

Egan stands up, checking his fly but also adjusting his cock in the process. He walks up to Cleven, resisting the urge to wrap his long arms around the naked torso. Trying not to think about pressing his lips to Buck’s slightly sunburned neck. He can’t even bring himself to slap his back in a perfectly acceptable brotherly way. He’s too afraid he’d end up aiming for his ass instead. But oh god how he wants to, wants to do all of it. 

"There's the 12th," says Buck.

"Better late than never," Bucky responds.

"Better have that ice cold beer for the boys," Buck commnets. Knowing full well that was not the case.

"Don't count on it," Bucky glances at Buck, grateful for the fact that he has sunglasses to hide the desire in his eyes.

🛎️🛎️🛎️This moment brought to you by Master's of the Air, Romantic Clegan Edition ✈️✈️✈️

[420technoblazeit]

ive been fuckign. wasting a spell slot so that gale has the find companion spell and can summon a little kitty cat and i keep telling myself it's bc it can distract npcs so i can get away with crime but it's deffo not at this point. i just like having a cat. also we juts found out that gale's ex wants him to blow himself up i feel like i gotta give him SOMETHING good for once yk

[just-another-mess-in-a-dress]

B/G/3 Snz Head Cannons pt 1 Bois

Writing horn at work because that’s what you do when you’re an adult waiting on emails right??

Snz headcanons for b/g/3 characters let’s gooooooo (in parts because tumblr has decided word count matters rip)

Astarion

Photonic sneezer for sure

Beyond that I think his nose is much more sensitive now than it was when he was alive so being out in the wilds I think made him an absolute sniffly mess for the first few days

After the initial shock of being in the wide open world I think the sensitivity to strong florals sticks with him.

Usually sneezes in doubles but sometimes threes when he’s really irritated

Covers with steepled hands or tries desperately to stifle

Is REALLY bad at stifling

I feel very strongly about this - his voice gets deeper when he sneezes/is congested

Like we know when he’s quiet and genuine his voice gets a bit deeper and less performative

And I imagine he’s shit at changing how his sneezes sound so they’ve gotta be deep in his chest

Typically follows up with a dazed, ‘excuse me’

Expects to be blessed and will be pouty about it if he’s ignored

If vampires could get sick he would make it everyone’s problem

But be lowkey embarrassed about it if a partner was genuinely worried and doting on him

Gale

This man always has a handkerchief on him

Compulsive stifler even before the orb but after the orb it becomes even worse

Ignore his high con score this man gets sick often and it’s always a stuffy head cold situation

Does that thing where he keeps his handkerchief balled up under his nose while he reads/writes to keep it from dribbling.

Is an expert at covering sneezes but on the off chance he didn’t feel one coming he gets super flustered about it

King of the stuck sneeze and he’s mostly okay with that - if it doesn’t come out he can’t blow up lol

Once he’s cured of the orb the first time he catches a cold it’s the sneeziest cold he’s ever had and he lowkey forgets that he can sneeze freely until his partner or a well meaning friend gently points it out (or points it out like an asshole if you’re like that or Astarion lol)

His natural sneezes are loud and always comes in fits, like never one or two

Apologizes every single time

Cannot hold a conversation in the midst of a fit but will try

Doesn’t really have allergies but will occasionally get stuffy voice if he spends too long in the archives

Halsin

This man has never covered a sneeze in his goddamn life okay?

Will blow his nose into his hand if he’s out in the woods and will flick the mess onto the ground before wiping his hand on his thigh

Loud sneezes but not quite atomic bomb levels of loud

Almost always at least a little bit of visible spray

Gets really bad itchy fall allergies every year and knows exactly which genus of plant causes it (will weaponize this fact for a partner who has the kink)

Sneezes mainly in singles but when it’s allergies it’s always doubles

Doesn’t expect blessings but will gladly take them

Usually directs the blast down or away from others if they’re around

Openly acknowledges that he likes sneezing ‘It’s a natural process and it feels quite nice I think’

Being a healer means he’s aware of contagion and how it works but doesn’t think much of his own sneezes until it’s too late

Yes he’s built like a brickhouse and yes he does work himself too damn hard - he also loves being taken care of by a partner

Has been known to induce unprompted because he ‘just wants to hurry things along’ whore

Wyll

Baby boy has the most expressive nose in existence

He always describes sneezes as tickly or buzzy when he’s congested

Comments on his sneezes all the time

Hitchy and gasping breaths into every sneeze

King of build ups, cannot have a sneeze without at least five seconds of warning

Covers every single time but can never find his hanky so it’s usually hands or elbow

Will ask to borrow your handkerchief and will give it right back after decimating it with a blow

Tries to stifle but is really bad at it and it just makes him sneeze more

Sneezes in threes and fours but occasionally sneezes only once

Dust and pollen sensitivity

Every cold starts in his chest but settles in his nose for weeks after

Will breathily remind you he’s not contagious as a sneeze rips through him.

Can be loud or soft but are always drawn out

Doesn’t want to admit he loves being taken care of but it does melt him on the inside

Gets really teary when he sneezes and will make jokes about it to deflect his embarrassment

Very aware of germs and contagion but still manages to catch every bug that goes through his friend groups

Gets disappointed if he’s not blessed after a sneeze

[smt4flynn]

embiggen, embolden

Rating: R18/Explicit (Minors DNI)

Notes: This is a story about misusing the enlarge spell to do some shenanigans with Astarion. I wrote this in the coffee shop where I constantly kept oscillating between being cold and EXTREMELY cold, so I lost steam a little bit, but I wanted to finish it!

On AO3 this is apparently 4K wordcount. Also, you can find this on ao3 under the same name, by ao3 user Voidromeda! =)

-----

This isn’t the first time you cast Enlarge on Astarion – during combat, of course, just to help boost his combat prowess even further (and it does terrify you how strong he quickly becomes, helped by the fact that he finally lets Lae’zel and Karlach be his coaches) – but you normally recall it fading away after some time. You do not recall it ever backfiring and making him even bigger, to the point that he is literally towering over all of you, and looking confused as he is.

“I have looked everything over,” Gale says after a while, stood in front of a sitting, cross-legged Astarion who is now almost thrice everyone’s size, his hands are clasped in front of him and he seems to be smiling too wide, “and my conclusion is this: assuming if, and if, you did all of the incantations correctly and used the proper gesticulations, and given that I was there to hear you do the correct chant, the somatic and verbal components should not be the issue at hand here. The only thing I can assume is that the materials used were at fault somehow, or that the weave decided today, of all days, to be a right petty bastard and Mystra wished to have a lark at your expense.”

Astarion huffs out in annoyance, his breath ruffling Gale’s hair, and he turns around to look at him with his own momentary irritation . Astarion throws his hands up in faux surrender. “So, to boil it all down for us little peoples,” his voice practically drips venom, “you have no clue why this happened and, for all you know, you have no clue when I am going to turn back.”

“Correct!” and you have to hold back a laugh at the fact that Gale seems to be enjoying Astarion’s mounting irritation a little too much.

“I am big enough to eat you.” he says.

“But you and I know you won’t do that, unless you want a netherese bomb in your body! And I don’t think you want to figure out how to vomit me out to resurrect me!”

“Or how to shit you out.” Astarion grumbles, but he is too big for it to be quiet, and Karlach snorts particularly loudly at that. Lae’zel looks disgruntled, as she always does, and she looks between you, Gale, and Astarion before letting out an annoyed declaration in Gith and decides to leave them at that.

Shadowheart eyes the (rather) giant vampire, then turns to Karlach as she says, “you know, now that he’s bigger than you, he could probably carry you around and withstand your engine.”

“OH. YOU’RE RIGHT.” Karlach says a little too loudly. A glare from Astarion has her hushing herself, “oh, you’re right!” she repeats, and Astarion pointedly pokes her away with an index when Karlach tries to climb up on top of him. He hisses a little, though it isn’t as bad of a response as the rest of you had to touching Karlach. That has her eyes alight with excitement, much to Astarion’s chagrin. “But, he’d eventually get burnt up, yeah? Probably ain’t a reason to bother ‘im, he already looks like he’s about to blow and he’s not the one with the engine. Dammon said, anyway, that we just gotta find one last iron.”

“You won’t be able to ride around on his back.” Shadowheart says with an arch of her eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you’d like to go find one right now so we can rush on back to Dammon and try out your newfound touch on Astarion.”

“Teeeeeempting, tempting, but I don’t think we should just rush ‘round for a bit, yeah? It’s so tempting though! Ugh! I hate making good decisions!”

She gives him a good-nature grin and Astarion puffs air her way, which happens to also ruffle your and Shadowheart’s hairs. Despite him not needing to really eat (“of course I can still taste food,” he says to you after you give him a piece of chocolate cake that you particularly really like, “it’s just dulled, and not at all nutritious for me, it’s not even a luxury . Your blood is like heaven on my tongue. Why would I want anything else? ”), his breath smells like some sort of rosy ale mixed with a vanilla pastry. It isn’t that bad, though it still is a bit unpleasant.

“And what of you, Halsin? What do you make of this?” Gale spins on his heel to point over to the druid who arches an eyebrow up at Astarion, just as puzzled as everyone else is that the vampire is now... large. Quite, quite large.

“Though wizards and sorcerers oft pride themselves on their honed control over the weave, be it granted, earned, or both,” Halsin says pleasantly, as though he is talking about the weather and naught else, “it is not so strange that even the most skilled of wizards and the most gifted of sorcerers, or others should they have a grasp of it, shall have their mind wander and for the spell’s consistency to slip. One’s tools can only be as consistent as one’s body and mind.”

“So you think I got distracted, and that led to the spell backfiring?” you question. You aren’t really offended by it; the last combat encounter you have, where this mistake occurs, is a hectic one, with reanimated corpses reaching out to grasp at you and try to drag you under. “That makes sense.” and Halsin nods thoughtfully your way. “So the best thing to do is to just wait?”

“Yes.” Halsin gives you a smile and you smile awkwardly back.

Gale takes this as his cue to leave, citing having found some new books that he would like to look through while they wait for Astarion’s condition to fix itself, and Karlach gets herded away by Shadowheart so that they can do something else. Wyll, who has been absent for most of this, suggests to the former two and to Lae’zel to go patrolling around the Shadow-Cursed lands, and the three women jump at the opportunity to leave.

When you look over, Gale disappears into somewhere and you think it best not to ask. Halsin, seeing that people seem to be leaving to do their own activities, excuses himself to go and look further into the Shadow-Cursed lands, to try and see if he can find anything now that he is more experienced. It is just you and Astarion now, the vampire staring at you with some mixture of interest and mischief.

“So!” Astarion clicks his tongue. You look at him a bit warily. He must be a bit angry at you, considering that you’re the reason as to why this happens, though you can’t see it anywhere on his face. That’s even worse, your mind supplies, because Astarion – for all everyone makes fun of him for being extremely obvious – can also be frightfully subtle when he wants to be. When he puts the effort in, you have seen him speak sweet little lies to some of the still sentient shades, encouraging them to curl further to Shadowheart before they melt painfully under her cast of daylight.

You think he does not try on the living because some form of guilt keeps him at bay. What happens when that bit of guilt is gone, you wonder?

“So.” you say when he stays quiet. Astarion smirks at your uncertainty.

When he comes to a stand, properly, you find yourself just a little below his crotch – Karlach, earlier, points and bellows loudly that she is ‘almost dick-height! Just a little above it, actually, that’s fucking hysterical!’ which is why Astarion makes sure to stay sitting for a good while. You, however, stand so close to crotch height it is mortifying. You have to take a step back and crane your neck up, almost painfully so, to be able to look at him.

It shocks you when he simply scoops you up into his arm, lifting you up on one elbow, and you are held up to his face rather easily. He gives you a cheeky grin. “Admittedly, I was miffed with you at first; it really is hard to be so,” he clicks his tongue, “stealthy when you’re a huge brute. But I think I’m beginning to see the upsides!”

“The upsides.” you say flatly. He chuckles, the sound seemingly louder because of his size, and he uses one hand to carefully cradle your head and bring you close for an awkward kiss. Your lips are so small in comparison to his, and it embarrasses you a little how tiny you feel. “Astarion,” you start, pushing his face back a bit, and you give him a half-hearted glare, “can you – can you not have desires right now when you’re way too big for me?”

“But darling,” and he drags it out just to annoy you, snickering at the little tick in your brow, “when will we ever get an opportunity like this again, hm? Us all alone, no one to bother us, especially when these lands are cursed as they are. Don’t you want to see how big I’ve gotten down there? I’m curious to see it myself.”

You want to say that you are a bit more forceful when you say no.

Astarion carries you away from the camp, blessed as you both are by Isobel’s magics, though you have a feeling that Selûne will more than likely disapprove of how Astarion is taking advantage of your weak protections. You aren’t really... isolated, given that Astarion is still so large and attracting attention, but nothing really wants to approach him when he is so, so large. Undressing you is extremely easy for him, and you find yourself being cradled gently by him. His eyes are wide, taking you apart, and the hunger on his face is even more unavoidable because of his size. His fingers, which have always been larger than yours, positively dwarf your legs when he helps hold you up in the air.

Holding you up like this, with his hands trying to cradle you while his thumbs attempt to spread your legs, you feel like a bug under intense scrutiny. He exhales out through his nose, instinctively despite the vestigial nature of it all, and you shudder from the way his breath washes over you. He leans closer to you, crowding you, and his large lips press a dainty kiss against your folds. You grab at one of his thumbs when it comes to rest on your belly, his tongue rolling out to drag between your soft folds.

You whimper; it is a lot of sensation at once, rubbing against your labia all at once, even when he tries to thin it, narrow it to press it against your hole. He pushes you closer lips completely overtaking your vulva, large tongue lapping mindlessly between your folds, and you moan loudly from the sensation. He hums approvingly, the vibrations all too much at once, head tilting to the side to mouth at your thigh.

“Do you trust me for a moment, darling?” Astarion says.

“For more than a moment.” you say, your voice a bit rough from your moaning, and Astarion grins ever so sweetly at you before his expression becomes thoughtful.

“I’m going to put you further into my mouth,” he warns, “nothing will happen to you. You’ll be fine. Trust me.” and you do, of course. You nod at him when he looks at you, verbalise it next when his expression grows sharp, and his tongue rolls out once more to give you a distracting, flat, broad lick against your swollen vulva.

His mouth opens over your vagina again, his tongue dragging from your swollen, emerging clit down to your puckered hole. He laps against you, quick, skilled flicks of his tongue even with his larger muscle, and you writhe and whine loudly. He pulls back for a moment, looking at you critically, before his mouth falls open and you try not to kick at him when his lips wrap around your feet, up until your ankles. He lets you slip further into his mouth – and it is so hot and wet inside, lips wrapped around half of your body, and your hands come to rest above his upper lip when he finally stops.

Wildness flashes briefly in his eyes before he squeezes them shut and opens them to look at you carefully. His tongue slathers his saliva against your legs, briefly exploratory, tasting your skin in a way that makes you shiver from the discomfort and odd excitement of being at his mercy in an entirely different way. The muscle flattens up against your vulva once more, pressing between your folds, swirling his tongue around before going back to tasting your legs, drenching you in his saliva.

Your hips jump up, trying to move in tandem with his tongue when he goes back to licking you mercilessly, the tip of his tongue swirling around your engorged clit. It lays flat, swirling and grinding against your clit, flicking it up and down, and you shake, shiver. You press your hands against his skin, unable to move your body much because of it trapped in his mouth.

It is when you are able to cum in his mouth, your whines and moans getting louder, shamefully so, that Astarion pulls you out of his mouth, murmurs a prestidigitation under his breath to wipe the saliva away, and you shiver at how suddenly cold you feel. He grins lopsidedly down at you. “See? It wasn’t that bad now, was it, darling?” and he presses a sloppy kiss between your legs, against your sensitive vagina, and you shiver.

He settles you down onto his knee, stopping you when you try to grind against him, and he clicks his tongue. You stiffen up, grasping at his leather trousers, bunching it up in your pathetically small hands. He works to unfasten his strings, pausing before he has to set you aside so he can undress himself. You can only watch as his body is revealed to you – blouse peeled off of his body, trousers shoved down and away, and embroidered underwear thrown aside to reveal his horrifically large erection.

It stands painfully erect before you, dripping copiously at its enlarged tip, and Astarion lifts you up again to sit on his abdomen. He leans back, his cock slapping against your back when you sit up, spreading his pre over you, and it feels like you are being marked by some sort of feral beast. Astarion chuckles at the look on your face, a fond expression overtaking him for a moment.

“You always were such a little thing.” he murmurs (he likes how small you are, how he can cage you in his arms and hold you, that you are the smallest out of them all and it makes him want to do terrible things to you while holding you in his arms), “but this is ever sweeter. Do you think you can take me?”

Looking behind yourself, to his hard, large erection that throbs and oozes more pre-cum from your gaze, then looking down at your vulva that feels like it will break in half, you know you can’t. “I will most definitely try.” is what you say instead, because you always want to please him, you know you do.

He helps you move up, his slender fingers wrapping around his pale, pretty penis; not a single hair anywhere, wonderfully thick and perfectly long, spreading you nicely before and now threatening to rip you in half, and he gives himself a few strokes just for some form of relief. You spread your legs, leaning back and his cock slaps against your back when he lets go so that he can instead press his fingers against your small hole.

One finger is a pleasant stretch. It sinks into you readily, making you huff and moan loudly from the sensation; you whimper with a bit of fear when a second finger presses against your wonderfully stuffed hole, his fingernail catching a bit at your rim before he presses it incessantly in. It takes some trying, your tongue rolling out from your panting; you struggle, muscles tensing and relaxing in short little bursts before you finally let that second finger in, and your eyes roll up into your head from the intense stretch.

It sinks in until the second knuckle, your mouth open with endless, whiny moans; it’s so much, forcing your stuffed vagina to accept even more in, and you wail when both fingers are pressed deep inside of you. His large thumb presses down on your sensitive clit and you make a strangled noise, hips jumping forward and you let out a soft squeak at the way his fingers feel inside of you.

“Good, good, you’re doing so good,” he murmurs, sick excitement painting his face and staining his voice as you fuck yourself on his large fingers. You pulse and flutter around his fingers, a shriek pushed out of you when he drags his fingers out just to thrust them mercilessly back in. You are most definitely going to gape the moment his fingers are done with you and Astarion seems to come to the same realisation with how roughly he keeps thrusting them in and out of you.

His cock twitches against you; his eyes are wild, staring down at your poor little hole that is going red from his attentions, stretched wide around his two fingers. When he teases a third one in, you babble incoherently – “I can’t take another!” you cry out and Astarion hushes you.

“You can darling, you can, come on,” he encourages, the third finger feeling almost impossibly too much, yet he still presses it against your fluttering, full hole. You don’t even know how he pushes it in – perhaps when he pulls the two fingers out and introduces the third amidst the soaked two, and it is shameful how much pre you yourself are dripping all over him. You don’t even get a second to register what is happening before he slams three fingers in and you are orgasming violently from the intense, almost-painful stretch.

Squirting copiously, you weep and beg when he keeps his thrusts going, extending your orgasm even as your cum begins puddling on his stomach, and it is only when you can cum no more and your voice is just pathetic whimpering that he pulls his soaked fingers out. His face is utterly wild, making him look almost feral, bestial, and he spreads your folds open further to stare at your gaped open hole.

“That looks like it could take me.” he says with strained breath, voice rough and a low growl, and he grabs you by the hips while you still feel insensate and boneless from your rough orgasm. The head of his cock feels almost comically large as he presses you against it, your hole spasming wildly, clenching up to drip more onto his erection and almost as if dreading how empty it is, before it relaxes open again and Astarion keens loudly.

He pushes you down, your hands flailing a bit before resting on his abdomen when he pushes down enough for it. He isn’t even halfway inside of you before you feel so stuffed, filled up with so much of his penis that you are surprised you haven’t torn completely open; perhaps it is a good thing he introduced the third finger, even though he no doubt adds it in because of the fact that he is lost in the sensation, in the moment. Your claws drag at his belly, sliding against your own cum and he giggles, your own much breathier than his own, because it is ridiculous how much he made you cum.

“You’re so – so – so incorrigible,” you slur out a little, your hole unable to even clench down on his fat erection, and his hands push down on your hips while you try to comply with him. It’s so much – he’s too much as he is right now, hands slipping on his stomach and you arch your back, thighs tensing up from the effort of trying to sink further, further down.

His fingers come to rest on your abdomen, his voice a bit awed as he says, “your belly’s bulging with me. You can’t take me.” but that doesn’t stop him; you look down and see he is right, his shape is poking through, bulging you obscenely with his erection. You feel like you are being hollowed out by him, and it doesn’t help when you aren’t even down all the way and Astarion is grabbing onto you and taking over.

All of your movement is abruptly taken away and controlled entirely by him. You scream so loudly that you are sure even the hunting team, so far away, can hear you; your tongue slips out again, your right hand slipping on his stomach before messily coming to your own clit to stroke and rub it as Astarion begins fucking you.

Both of you are just grunting, groaning animals, him growling exactly like one, and his eyes are wide and feral, focused on how your poor vagina can’t take all of him with how big he is. He babbles incomprehensibly at you, as if trying to praise you, though absolutely nothing he says makes sense, and you can’t help but laugh before it turns into a high-pitched whine.

“Please, cum for me, cum, let me see you cum around me,” Astarion says, the first coherent thing to slip out of his wet lips and his eyes shine bright now with love, and it is that begging, the way he looks at you, that sets you off again. Your orgasm isn’t as violent as the first time, though it still gets to you that you squirt again – far less copiously this time, but still enough to add to the mess already cooling on him, and he coos lovingly at you.

With your legs now shaky, body exhausted by your orgasm, he slows down, his thrusts lazy and leisurely before he digs his feet into the darkened lands with his hands dripping to claw at the earth before he cums deep inside of you. The amount inside makes you yelp – your belly rounds out with his spend and it ends up being too much to stay inside, squirting around him as it starts to escape, and he pulls out to let the rest of it land on your vulva, inner thighs, and even on your stomach.

You can’t clench your hole shut to stop his spend from just dripping out of you, forced into a rather big gape, and you just hum when he settles you down beside him and lets you try and catch your breath.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Astarion begins, and you murmur into his arm that he lets you use as a pillow, “I am aware it was… abrupt, and perhaps I may have pushed you too far, but you were a good sport about it.”

You nuzzle into his elbow. “I’m more glad that you wanted to do this with me,” you say, voice so sleepy, mind more than hazy, “I want you to feel safe to explore whatever you want.” and you don’t get to see his loving, fond gaze before you fall asleep, your body pushed beyond belief.

[When the two of you go back to the camp, way later when his condition seems to have finally faded, you are utterly shamefaced because you both look dishevelled and like you’ve been up to no good, though Astarion seems to be in very bright spirits about it. You try not to maul him violently when he ‘innocuously’ asks Gale if there is any way to adjust one’s size when enlarged. Karlach’s hyena like laughter at your embarrassment makes you wish you could just die.

You hate this vampling so very, very much.]