#gale: you're just like my dad

[wrmhles]

Lt. Ronald Hollenbeck states: Cleven buzzed the tower with my airplane with all four engines feathered. That’s the kind of guy Cleven was. I had just gotten a couple engine replacements, and he didn't get to fly too much being squadron CO, so he comes over and says; "Hollenbeck, let me fly your airplane for you, I'll put some slow time on it" and the next thing I knew, is this God d--n B-17 was coming across just about 25 feet off the runway and I looked up and all 4 engines were feathered. He (Cleven) said "I wanted to do that all my life." (x)

GALE CLEVEN + GAMBLING [part 1/?]

[pups-2-dust]

Idk if this is me pushing people away on purpose but this dude I reconnected with very politely said he wouldn't be interested in doing a my little pony ttrpg campaign with me as gm and I am considering obliterating this bridge

[johnslittlespoon]

john risks an eye (and then some) winning gale his bike... but gale refuses to ride it anywhere. it confuses john to no end when he catches him walking to the mess hall the day after he gifts him the bike; he slows his own down to keep pace with gale and says, "did you forget i risked my life getting you your own set of wheels?"

gale gives him some excuse about wanting to explore the base at a leisurely pace on his first proper morning there, and john just shrugs, maybe teases a bit more, but ultimately lets it go (though he does keep pace with him the whole way to the mess.)

except this isn't a one–time thing. sometimes it takes gale triple the time walking as it takes john to bike somewhere, but no matter what, he insists quite adamantly that he prefers to walk. it stings a bit, because john loves to show his affection through gift–giving, and seeing gale's bike locked in the same spot day after day feels a little like rejection, but he brushes it off, turning it into a challenge to get gale to ride the damn bike.

a bit of extra pressure via teasing one morning, and, weird– john thinks his ever–stoic friend might actually be blushing when he makes a joke about, "you scared of crashing? can fly a plane but can't ride a bike?" and gale gives him a stiff "course not" in return. that piques john's interest, and he does love flustering gale, especially when it's so rare to get a reaction out of him like that.

so when they make it to the mess hall, john riding his bike at a slow crawl and wondering why he even bothers taking it anymore when he takes just as long as gale in his refusal to leave his side, he presses again as they sit down across from each other.

"if you're not scared, just ride a loop with me around base when we get back, and i'll drop it," he proposes. gale doesn't meet his eyes when he gives him a firm "no thanks, john," but he might as well have just waved a red flag in front of a bull. "why not?" john kicks at his ankle under the table, and gale does look up then, if only to glare.

john waits patiently for whatever increasingly ridiculous excuse gale might give him this time, only to see gale's shoulders slump a bit, studying john's face for a beat longer before he lowers his eyes once again and mumbles, "don't know how to ride." john huffs out a breath of laughter, then stops when he realizes gale isn't laughing too.

"you're serious?" he asks, and gale nods, leaning back in his chair, cheeks a lovely shade of pink. "my dad never taught me to ride, and he never wanted to spend the money to get me a bike growing up, so." john immediately feels terrible for all of his jokes and pressuring, and for being unable to tear his eyes away from his blush.

"well, that's alright," he says easily, not wanting to embarrass gale any more than he already has. "i'll teach you."

that's how they end up in a secluded field after breakfast, and it's john's turn to feel a little flushed as he keeps a firm hand on the small of gale's back to help him stay upright, promising he won't let go until gale tells him to. gale picks up on the skill almost instantly, unsurprisingly, and john beams at the boyish excitement on gale's face when he finally gets going on his own.

mornings are much more exciting when john has someone to race to the mess hall, though he lets gale win sometimes just to see his favourite smile.

'you sound like my dad, john.' well, john hopes he's outdone him now.

[sharkboywrites]

Hello! May I ask for the BG3 gang with an autistic gn Tav who is. Very Very Large but also quite young (think like... Older teen.) who just decides that Astarion/Wyll/Halsin/Gale etc is their new favourite person and WILL NOT leave them alone.

It would be very funny if they just... didn't realise Tav was actually A Kid™ and thought they were just a weirdly clingy grownup. Except Halsin. Halsin would know Immediately.

Inspired by my dumb ass being enormous and this having happened to me irl many times.

Bg3 Characters With a Young Older Looking Autistic Tav

A/n: This idea is so silly I love it. This is obviously written as platonic because reader is younger and baulder's gate characters are older and I don't write weird stuff like that lol although I'm sure that's expected. Also also i did all of them together because I do not have the energy to write sperate headcannons for each of them, dont worry they all get their moment

Gn Reader, Child/teen Reader

This was an... interesting situation

Everyone on the team assumed you were just assumed you were a bit childish for an adult

I mean could you blame them? You were massive, anyone would assume you were an adult

Except for Halsin

He could easily tell your age, but it's something he kept between the two of you, mainly for safety

Halsin takes more of a dad approach if you cling to him

He's very protective of you and teaches you new skills

He also keeps anyone else on the team from hitting on you, for obvious reasons, but wouldn't say why

He's also the most attentive when it comes to your autism, he's always keeping an eye out for you and helping when he can

It took the others longer to find, though

Wyll was the second to put two and two together

Once he realized, he grilled you about why you didn't tell anyone about it

He isn't too harsh though, and takes a more "fun uncle" role

He always makes sure to entertain you, he's the guy who's got fidgets on him just for you incase you need them

He also decides not to tell anyone for your safety after consulting with Halsin, but he does wish you said something sooner

Gale is the second to last to find out, after trying to teach you something about magic

He had questioned why you didn't know any of this, it was supposed to be common knowledge for someone your age

Or someone he thought was your age

He just stared at you blankly for a good minute after you told him how old you actually were

He's more upset at himself for not noticing to be honest

He realizes how that actually makes a lot of sense

Gale, like Halsin, also takes a more fatherly approach

he teaches you things you may have not known before, and is one of the most helpful when it comes to working through your autism

He's a knowledgeable man and can tell what you need, probably before you do

He's very protective, often insisting that you stay out of battles, but it's not like you listen to him in that department

For comedy's sake, Astarion is the last to find out, and he is pissed

He's mad that no one told him, even if it wasn't too long Gale found out and most of the party knew

He looked so dumbfounded when he found out and like Gale, was more mad that he didn't realize sooner

He's upset, but he gets over it quickly after a day or two of snarky comments and like Wyll, takes on a cool uncle postion

The whole party suddenly wants to protect you and it's suddenly become one of their top goals to return you to your parent/guardian if you have one, next to y'know, getting the worms out of your head

If you don't have somewhere to go they may or may not argue on who takes you once it's all over

Generally, you're taken good care of from then on, much better than you were before

Everyone's very attentive to you and tries to be aware of what you may need at any given point

Since they all have some type of trauma, they want to make sure the same doesn't happen to you, especially so young

Being in this situation is stressful for anyone, let alone a child, and a child with a disability

They do their best to make you happy and keep you safe

They may struggle, but they do their best, and now you have people to call family

[therealslimshakespeare]

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: yes…Virgin!Gale + Maureen/Gale bonding

Universe: Friends in the Crucible (pacific au)

Summary: “Get laid, Buck.” Doc Egan prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve your jitters better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

Warnings: all the sex! 18+.|| both tender and feral || Doc Egan being a unorthodox but loving menace, a theme of ptsd and body tremors/insomnia -poor Gale is going through it after a whole war, drug mentions, erectile disfunction, Maureen is aggressive but everything’s consensual, usage of the word “Jap”. Graphic descriptions of Gale’s virginity loss, male overstimulation and an amusing amount of thought given to Bucky’s existence during the act … im sure that won’t lead to anything when Maureen returns to base and reports to Egan about it, right? Hahaha of course not, that would be craaazy

Word count: 10k

“Buck, come on now, it’s not a prison sentence, it’s just a little time off.”

“I don’t need time off.” Gale reiterated, a panicked sort of fierceness creeping into his tone as his appeal now stretched into something longer than the usual flippant favors Egan was customarily so eager to dole out.

“Those hands suggest ya do.” John gave a not unkind glance of sympathy at the twitching fingers rattling on the armrests of Cleven’s chair.

12 rescue missions in 15 days. Flying upwards of ten hours each. He’d done worse before, but then again, that had been when he was fresh, younger, less banged up from the head hitting the cockpit wall.

“Sending me to go watch flamingos and contemplate sand or some shit isn’t gonna make me steadier.” Gale very much feared his gripes were beginning to sound like begs, “Don’t send me off like this. Don’t.”

“Petrified of flamingos?” John hummed, glancing down at his chart as if contemplating making a note of this new malady, “Maybe if your dad had taken you to a zoo once or twice as a kid you’d not be scared stiff of the prospect.”

Cleven stared back at him with the most hurt eyes John had ever seen. He balled his own fist up to remember the rightness of his point, even if he’d delivered it about as clumsily as a marriage proposal at a funeral. “The hell would you say something like that?” Buck whispered, not even angry, just utterly lost.

“Buck, I’m just sayin’ -inability to slow or be alone, it’s classic symptoms of battle fatigue.”

“I don’t wanna sit on a beach when I could be helping, I’m perfectly capable of still helping! You know it!”

“But you can’t sleep.” John circled back to where this all began, with Gale asking if there was anything to knock a fella out when 82 hours of insomnia wasn’t sufficiently exhausting.

“Give me something, you’re a doctor! Goddamnit, John!” Gale finally broke, voice raising and fists clenched.

“Surgeon, technically.” John gave him a wane smile, “And I can’t dope up an active pilot.”

“Just an active surgeon.” Gale sneered, tit for tat on the insults.

John nodded grimly but murmured, “The day Gale Cleven becomes John Egan is a day this whole operation can pack up and go home.”

“So you're being the better man,” Gale scoffed, “-sending me to watch flamingos.”

“I’m not givin’ you shit.“ he confirmed, “Unless it’s an assignment.”

“Will it keep me outta the flak asylum?”

“If you comply to all the regulations, maybe.” Egan shrugged.

“Go on?”

“Get laid, Buck.” his friend prescribed with his peculiar brand of deathly serious compassion, “Hell, I’ll write you a prescription for it, if it soothes your conscience, but I’m serious. Serve you better than any syrette or Amphetamine.”

“That’s your ultimatum?”

“No, no, my ultimatum is that you go on a little sabbatical with one of my nurses, she’ll keep an eye on you and you can make yourself useful, helping her unload heavy shit at the aid station they’re setting up at Peleliu. My recommendation is that when she comes into your room at the end of the day and drops her knickers, you lay back and think of Wyoming.”

Major Cleven had thought of a million and one ways to bribe or ally the prospective nurse to his side of the deal once he knew which unfortunate female Egan was going to pick for this deplorable detail. Calling his friend a pimp and a bastard had done little good, threatening malpractice and a hardness of heart towards Gale’s own principles -even less. So Gale figured when the time came he’d just gently turn the well meaning comfort gal away and maybe pay her off to lie that they’d done it: for his hand’s sake.

After all, if she was willing to do this, was she even a nurse or was she someone Bucky dressed up in Red Cross arm bands like some sleazy fantasy? Gale didn’t think any of the nurses he’d encountered would be willing to go along with such a sordid “assignment.” Sure, some of them were -carefree. Indulgent. Easy, as the men sometimes called them before getting a stinging cheek that proved them wrong. But they were a proud bunch and they had earned it.

Rolling a toothpick in his cheek, Buck pondered these things while sat on the bench of a Goony Bird waiting for his nurse to hop into the cargo hold with him and off they’d go to Pelilu. The situation was made worse by the suspense of who it might be and the insulting foreignness of being on a plane but not piloting. It made Gale feel an odd sort of feeling close to self pity that he hadn’t felt in ages, not since he was a kid and the nostalgia of it wrung him out of all energy. He made himself sit on that metal bench motionless as the heat index rose on the tarmac and made up a fun little game involving trying to see if he could get his hands to stop tremoring for five seconds straight.

So far he’d lost his own wager each time. He told himself if he could make it to five seconds then the nurse Bucky had sent would be a gray haired matron and this really was just a sabbatical to lift boxes and breathe ocean air and get Gale to laugh at himself.

Then Maureen Kendeigh climbed into the hold and squeezed past their cargo of medicine crates and plopped down right next to him, leg bumping his and breathing like a race horse. “I have jogged here the entire way from administration.” she wheezed, tugging at the collar of her shirt where her glistening throat was bobbing in thirst. “Sorry I’m so late, Major. Am I late?”

It could have been Bucky sat next to him: the choice of phrasing was so familiar, the damnable ability to force forgiveness for tardiness with a single smile so predictable. Gale found dread knotting his stomach at the realization it would be her, even as a warmth spread all over him at her sweet presence that had the odd effect of steadying his hands despite the panicked fuzz of his brain at her proximity.

Oh he didn’t want this. No, no, no. He’d like to think of Maureen very much apart, apart from anything but her heroism, not her wide spread stance on the bench beside him or the idea of her dropping her knickers and making him think of Wyoming. He preferred her very much not attainable in the deeper ways and very much not what he saw himself with when all this was over. Whatever she and Doc Egan had was between them and he’d held it up like a shield to keep himself in check, a boy's code of honor about not encroaching on his friend’s girl. Even if said friend didn’t have the decency to make said girl “his” girl.

But to have Maureen dished up to him on a platter by John when John must have suspected some of Gale’s appreciation for her professional merits -it was somehow worse than any dressed up floozy or the easy new intern. He’d not be able to pay Maureen off without insulting her. Or outing Egan’s intent. Maybe she didn’t know. What if Gale spilled the beans and she was as harmless as himself? What if—

“God, Major, did you sleep at all?” Maureen’s steady fingers were gripping his expressionless face and suddenly turned him towards her, one thumb swiping a tender crescent in his under eyes.

Gale’s eyes seemed to forget blinking was a thing, they grew wide and stayed wide at her inspection and the sandy wind blowing in from the tarmac stung at them as they dried out. “No,” he found his voice and it came out more winded than hers, “you’re not late.” he lied.

Once they get to the island, touchdown and unload, there’s then three hours of driving around the pitted old warzone to the aid station. There’s more foliage the more they go, less mortar pitted earth, but the increasing tropical paradise surroundings put Gale on edge. Maureen drives them to their unexplored destination as confident and recklessly as Bucky would, little surprise there. Gale can’t help glancing at her with unabashed amusement for the way she keeps her pistol propped on top of the steering wheel with one grip, facing out like a top turret for their hood, while keeping the map balanced on her thigh.

He cradles his own BAR with loose arms, ready to use it. Sure they secured the island months ago, but still, not infrequently some Jap comes out of his hiding hole, a cave, or whatever fucking tree he resides in and surrenders. Or, conversely, some of them have charged with guns blazing or sword drawn, deciding to go out and a bang of glory and take with them whichever hapless American happens to be nearby. That Emperor worship shit ain’t happening on on Gale’s watch, and so Maureen gets to drive -she didn’t have to beg like that, he was going to let her- and he shoulders the duty of keeping his eyes peeled for the next bush becoming animate and running at them, pulled pin grenade in hand.

“Some relaxation.” he jokes as their jeep lurches into another crater. If it’s not the bomb pits it’s the massive roots crawling over the smashed earth the Marine Corps call a road.

“It’s a reverse strategy!” she informs, grin wide as a shark’s and Gale could almost draw a little pencil mustache above that top lip and pretend it’s Bucky torturing him thus -hey, that might be a good mode of thought to keep everything strictly professional- “Like when nothing else works, you kick the broken thing.” Gale politely ignores the urge to argue about being broken, that’s not her point… he hopes, “You’re all shook up,” she goes on, voice raised to be heard over the rev of her driving, “and calm hasn’t worked, so why not shake you up worse?!”

He squints at her, fully aware he isn’t being chummy like she is trying to be, knowing he’s being a stick in the mud but he’s dying under the uncertainty, chafing under the pretense. Does she know? Or does she not? Five times today he’s resisted the urge to slap her chest like he would Demarco’s and ask her levelly, man to man, if she knows. “If this doesn’t work then what?” he asks anyway, sober as hell despite the comedic jostling and even Maureen’s joviality dims in the face of his dour mood.

“Then we’ll have to get real unorthodox.” she replies, allowing something close to annoyance at his attitude to seep into her own expression and Gale refuses to pull his eyes off her.

Do you know? He wants to ask.

“Stop scowling at me and watch for Japs.” she snaps at him so suddenly and so heated he genuinely spooks and turns his body back towards their horizon.

It’s worse than he thought. Worse than he imagined on the times he lost the bet with his hands and let his mind go somewhere besides a practical joke from Bucky and a gray haired spinster nurse as his companion. The aid station is on the edge of the new camp, far off enough to be genuinely secluded from both sights and smells of the navy station. It’s a tiki hut, thatched roof and swinging mesh door and lovely little veranda and palm trees and waves lapping up the back steps.

It looks like the sorta place people advertise for honeymoons and Gale stares at it with a 100 yard stare once Maureen grinds the gears to park.

“Jesus.” he knows his mouth is curling in disgust and beside him Maureen huffs in disgust with him.

She jumps out of her side of the jeep, not a shred of amusement left on her face. Gale sits and stares and listens to the roar of surf and the clinking of the cooling engine.

“Not bad.” she grunts under the burden of a crate which Gale should be lifting if he could just make his legs work and his mind obey. “But I bet it’s gonna be a bitch to keep the gnats out though, so much foliage around.”

Her hips sway like a tantalizing pendulum when she jogs up the bungalow stairs, her waist somehow accentuated by the way her arms are lifted to keep the crate hoisted on her strong shoulder and Gale has the perfect seat to watch it. How did he never notice the lines on her before she was doing hard labor? Then he recalls, she’s mostly been in flight suits around him, he’s never seen her paired down to collared shirts and belted pants. How’d he never notice the lines on that gi-

“Don’t make me drive this thing in the surf to wake you up.” her slap on his listless forearm rouses him to realize she’s back out at the jeep, standing beside him looking at him as he sits here catatonic like the mental case he’s showing symptoms of being. “And take your jacket off, you’re gonna get overheated being so formal.”

“Are you in on it?” he snaps suddenly as she grins at him over his first crate. He can’t tell if she’s mocking him or not but he’s damn tired of it.

“In on what?” Her face falls.

He can’t do it. He just can’t do it and he hates himself for being such a coward. “This.” he chooses vagueness and it tastes foreign and awful on his tongue.

“It’s a week out of the cockpit in paradise, Cleven,” Maureen’s own expression holds back no disdain for his pissy attitude, “man the hell up.”

What Maureen, Gale and five other technicians had loaded into the jeep and it’s buggy in the course of two hours, takes the mere two of them close to four to unload. And that’s even with Gale keeping a rapid pace to his work like a sweating maniac, feverishly wanting to stop thinking for once. His jacket and shirt are thrown over the chairs that are actually provided as furniture in the place and Maureen’s tie lays discarded on the accompanying desk. The rooms are bare but there’s two beds in the bedroom with crisp sheets that have only a bit of pollen dusting them and there’s a desk, as mentioned, three chairs in the main room and Maureen insists they can use crates for a table.

The back room is for the actual medical aid, and Maureen insists nothing gets moved into it until she can sanitize the whole place. So they stack the boxes in the main room and in the bedroom and when the sun gets lower they’re relieved to find there’s some dubious provisions for electricity in the place.

“I can get it to work.” Gale decides as Maureen tries flicking the light switch ten times as if to see if the bare bulb will grow a will of its own and turn on for her. It reminds him so much of Bucky’s brand of idiocy that Gale almost forgets himself and reaches out to swat her hand away from the futile flicking.

“Ok, then you do that while I keep unloading.” she insists, “Won’t be able to do anything if it’s pitch dark in here.”

So Gale drags a chair over and begins to fiddle with the wires tacked to the ceiling, risking electrocution so Maureen Kendeigh can see her way around as she tromps past him again and again in the same path with yet another crate.

He’s good with his hands. Excellent, in fact, judging by how one bulb flickers then stays steady, then another and another until the inside of the bungalow is aglow with cozy light: enough light for Maureen to appreciate his sweat soaked singlet and the way it rides up his belly when his arms are up and how it’s bright enough for her to scrub the exam room effectively when laying in a room with an insomniatic Gale Cleven gets to her at 3:00 am.

As it surely will. God! -the man is as impossible as he is beautiful, and while she doubted she’d manage it with him before, the sheer amount of fury she feels towards him right now leaves no doubt. She’ll shake him up. Like a Fuckin’ Martini. And he doesn’t have to like it, probably won’t, but they’ll both feel better after. “In on it” -he’s got the gall to ask but not the balls to spell it out, she can’t abide a quasi gentleman and so far Gale Cleven’s been nothing but the genuine article. Until now, now when he can’t accept certain human things about himself like fatigue or attraction, and he takes it out on her with a sullenness belonging to a much older man.

Maureen’s fine with that, she thinks as ogles the glowing golden skin of his sheened shoulders on one of her passes with a crate, she can take her mad out on him, too. And she’s got a lot of it. More than John Egan was ever able to lick away.

By 15:00, and some change to the second hand, Gale Cleven was still awake. Little surprise there, not to him, but even though it didn’t matter he found himself thoroughly annoyed and taking it out with a lethal glare at the vague gray ceiling, lit by a massive moon over the ocean. Wire and chairs but no curtains -an oversight about the furnishings. It wouldn’t have mattered, he knew that, and still the racket Maureen was making put his teeth on edge. It wasn’t Benny’s snoring or John’s drunken mumbling but it was a consistent *swoosh, swish* of industry that had Gale feeling a mixture of guilt and determination to keep lying here while she scrubbed.

It had not occurred to him she might’ve needed this break, too. Such as it was, effective as it was not proving. He knew she’d seen some combat in the beginning at Manila, maybe even worse than Iwo but long hours doing what she was doing now, where she was doing it, was no joke.

The urge to get up and help her was strong but then, so was the crippling fear of being around her in the dead of night and inviting any more of the bossy familiarity she’d tucked him into bed with. A magnesium capsule! She’d made him take three of the maternity horse pills and told him to calm the hell down as if he didn't have ample reason to be on edge with her laying a foot away on another bed, stripped down to her cotton slip. Of course Gale would cite war horrors if anyone asked why he couldn’t sleep but to be frank, he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t managing it these days and it had started awhile ago. Before Maureen Kendeigh glowed sweaty and luminous in the moonlight while gripping his cheeks and puckering his protesting mouth and plopping pills on his lolling tongue.

Thinking of it made his face flame with embarrassment for such a childish resistance. But god, her nursley familiarity sent a cross signal to his brain each time she helped herself to his flesh and no amount of berating himself while sweating in these rough sheets could dislodge the reaction. Closer to fifteen hundred than was remotely chivalrous, Gale threw off his sweat soaked bedding and tromped into the glow of light outside their bedroom, shuffling blearily into the little exam room. He faltered for a brief ten seconds at the doorway watching her undulating movements with sponge in hand and knees on the floor, white slip clinging like a second skin from the sweat.

He felt the sudden medical urge to lick her like the cattle back home lick at the salt block, a strange way of quenching thirst. Was ninety two hours without sleep considered genuine grounds for insanity? He felt like maybe he should be keeping a diary of these fevered thoughts to report back to John and see if he needed to get turned in. This wasn’t horniness, this was salt cravings. Yeah, yeah that’s what it was.

“You hypocrite.” he felt emboldened to tease and his voice came out rough and lower than even he expected, the disuse of laying there for ages taking a toll.

Maureen looked up like she’d been spooked herself, a slip and stall of her scrubbing, hair hanging about her face so unprofessionally he realized he’d never seen it in such…disarray. “Oh, the baby’s awake.” she grinned back and he felt an indulgence settle in his gut for her he didn’t know existed, “I see my magnesium capsules were a cure all.”

“Oh yeah, knock a horse out.” he agreed derisively.

“Your eyes are droopier.” she found a silver lining and as if reminded of the grit in them, his large fists came up and rubbed them meanly.

Like a little boy, she thought, watching him in the harsh light of the bare bulb, warm wood all around him the same color as all that sweaty skin and those skivvies hanging onto the lithest set of hips she may have ever seen. Looked as if one deep breath of that lean belly and the fabric would be goners, slipping down to the floor dramatically like a woman’s pantyhose in those unfortunate comics where that’s always occurring just when she wants to cross a busy street. Maybe if she could make him belly laugh-

She wished she knew how. She wondered if he knew how.

“Got another Sponge?” he asked and she was reminded why she liked him so much.

“Top crate, there, left, there that one.” She directed him with jerks of her chin until he was at the right one, “I’m using antiseptic.” she warned.

“I know,” he answered, dropping to his knees beside her and making use of her bucket to dunk his sponge, “smell’s been givin’ me a headache.”

Maureen’s mouth twitched at his tired grumpiness, more endearing now he was still putting effort into being near the caustic shit and the way his golden hair flopped on his forehead with his scrubbing movements. If his hips were that fluid, that rhythmic in cleaning a floor, how much more could she teach him to be—“Yeah, I’m sure it’s the anti-septic giving you a headache.” she snarked.

They ate sandwiches he’d gotten from the navy camp’s mess on the back porch, letting the sea water lap at their feet. A little stale but it was a much needed breakfast and Gale brought fresh water back, too, and a report that they were nice fellas and entirely too undressed for her to ever go see. That suited her fine, they’d be a pest if they knew a woman was up here and personally speaking she only needed one man for company, crate lifting, and doing the job well. And she rather had her heart set on it being Gale Cleven. Especially now she got to stare at him under the bright morning sun with a tropical breeze and more skin on display than at a swimsuit contest. He’d put on a singlet, as if to mark that a day had begun even if they hadn’t slept the night, but that was promptly sweat soaked and tiny nipples were pebbling under it from the breeze.

“Did they ask if a nurse came with you?” she pressed him between bites.

“Yeah.” he swallowed his bite thickly and licked at the mayo collecting at the corner of his mouth with typical precision, “And I lied.”

“Well, well,” she cooed, making him roll his eyes, “how’d that feel?”

“I have lied before.” he balked.

The look he gave her was both thunderous and remincent and she repented that line of questioning, used to distinguishing in her patients whether a wound was from wartime or stemmed from childhood. “Well who’d you say came with?” she asked.

“A technician.” he mumbled, blushing for some reason.

“Mm, someone nice and hairy and stinky-“

“Stop.” he begged.

“-not anyone they’d wanna meet.”

“I did it for you!”

“-if that makes you sleep at night, Cleven.” she humored him and like lightning, the back of his hand had flicked out and thumped her on the sternum, hard.

“Shit!” Maureen clutched the place, more in surprise than pain although he’d walloped her good and well.

“Shit!” He parroted in mortification, holding his hand like it was an offensive weapon.

“What was that for?” she laughed, “Do I remind you that much of Benny? Are you missing him that bad? Is that who you pretended was with you up here? Huh? Huh? Benny Demarco, now that’s a beauty to hide under a bushel-“

She was crowding him in on the steps and he was teetering towards falling off, too alarmed at his own outburst to trust his instincts now to shove her off without causing harm -and she knew it. She pressed her advantage and crawled over him with her teasing comments about Demarco until his long body had bowed so far away from her’s it was levitating and then toppled predictably into the surf.

“Fuck it’s cold!” he wheezed out as the embrace of the old pacific drenched him and rolled him about at her feet for a few delightful moments before he got his footing and rose, shaking his hair out of his eyes and grabbing for the steps.

“Sea bathing was in doctor Egan’s regimen.” she informed remorselessly before extending a merciful hand to help him up. He was slippery and shiny as an eel coming up and the grip of his hand was as strong as she expected. And still she found it intoxicating, the duality of him as he stood there pouting and bitchy over being cooled off. “Stay right there baby, I’ll get you a towel.” she patted his chest, right where he’d smacked hers, and went inside.

“I’m not your baby.” She heard him holler to her through the door-less porch. “I’m not your baby.” he reiterated vehemently but lower again when she came out with the towel.

“Yes you are.” she argued, “For this week you’re my baby, whether that’s a literal infant or not is your choice -and don’t start arguing, you’ve got to stop it, no one’s making you do a damn thing.” she insisted, hand raised and his mouth closed satisfyingly as a result, “You’ll be my baby. I know you already had a baby, no? Our baby? Shared her with ten other men, that’s generous of you-“

“-Ensign!-“

“-so I’m not gonna be your baby. You’ll be mine and you can find me something to be for the week.” she watched closely as recognition of her logic began to dawn and settle on him, “I could be anyone. I could be Benny Demarco, for instance. If that’s who you wanna lay next to.”

Gale didn’t speak for a long while, eyes off to the side watching the surf lap at the steps and she was still standing there, holding his unused towel. “Who do you want me to be?” he asked finally and his grave perception just about winded her in its raw honesty.

“You.” she replied honestly, “Whichever version of you made it here with me.”

“An infant -a baby.” he scoffed and she was suspicious those eyes were watery. And too delayed for it to be from the salt.

“My baby.” she replied, “Never had one before.”

“With respect ma’am, that’s Bullshit.” he argued in a fierce hiss, “I know you have, with John and -and-“

“I’ve been somebody’s,” she clarified, “but I think I’ve grown out of that. You’ll be my baby, huh? It’s not marriage, Cleven, it’s a week in paradise and hopefully some shut eye, too. So do you want me to be Benny?”

Those watery eyes let one single tear go trickling down his pink cheek alongside the rivulets of ocean water dripping from his hair and Maureen had never felt a single thing heat her up quite like it. “No,” his chuckle was thick and he sniffed, “not Benny. Maybe uh, God, I dunno, I’ve never had anyone.”

“Then we can make it up entirely.” she was pleased by the idea of not being a stand-in, although god knows she and John could sympathize more about the need for that than anyone. “We’ll be castaways.” she suggested, sitting back down on the porch now the confrontation was dwindling and in full confirmation of her suspicions, he sat again beside her without fuss.

“Marooned.” he disagreed, chin resting on his hands and a boyish tug pulling up the corner of his lips. “Something insane you did landed us here.”

“Mm, took liberties with the captain's daughter, perhaps?” she teased, daring to run a finger along those golden shoulders and collect a few salt drops. He shuddered under her but stayed put.

“I’m not playing fair maiden for you.” he retorted but his eyes were fond.

“Mm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Maureen was still impossible and Gale felt his gut burn in a bizzare sort of drive to prove her wrong. He’d hardly ever felt this even with all the jokes from the boys, not even with all the temptations from the girls, it just hadn’t seemed something that needed proving. Every flea and salmon could do it, he never doubted when he got married he could manage it credibly enough.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” his voice sounded like he’d come to a decision and Maureen squinted at his profile until it clicked.

“I’ve never been married before.” she observed breezily.

“And I never planned on being married for just a week.” he replied.

“Isn’t there a film about this?” she asked, “Cary Grant gets stuck on an island and he marries his castaway but then they get rescued and there’s a first wife?”

“Yeah, I think so, actually.” he thumbed at his bottom lip in contemplation and Maureen found it endlessly distracting, along with the bird song and the ocean crash and the sunshine.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” she agreed then, settling back on her elbows to stare up at the sun and let it add a few freckles, “And when it’s over and you’re rescued, I’ll be the better woman and let Our Baby have you.”

“You’ll always be the best of women, Maureen.” he sounded like the admittance took every fiber of his resolve to say, but she’d heard it before in his voice weeks ago when she was patching him up.

If a tear slipped out the corner of her shut eyes and down a sun warmed cheek, she wasn’t going to make a deal of it, not until she felt his finger catch it tenderly before it dropped from her jaw and rolled it back up.

She felt her lip wobble traitorously and perhaps there were more tears planning to follow and betray her but the shivering shock of his full lips, pressed to her bare shoulder, stemmed the flood. Maureen held her breath and kept her eyelids sealed, an orange glow of sunshine behind them as all her senses attuned to the drag of his caresses up to the juncture of her shoulder, the press of his body next to her on the porch boards, the suspenseful absence of his hands. They were soft as marshmallows, those lips, and a stray tip of his tongue caught her clavicle as he worked his way up a path that almost seemed premeditated, as if he’d thought of doing this a million times but held back. Now he allowed himself and the assured intimacy of his mouth made her body heat soar almost beyond her endurance as he crept up her throat and onto her cheek.

A kitten lick to that tear track down her cheek and Maureen was whimpering from something else entirely, breaking ranks and turning her head to gaze at him, nearly stunned by how close he was, how alive, how beautiful, how blue. There were his hands now, one propped beneath her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek. Her lips were tingling with anticipation by the time he’d lowered his face far enough and brushed her mouth with his.

Maybe he’d done his fair share of kissing the girls back home goodbye, or maybe it was a talent given along with this impossible lips, or perhaps she’d wanted it so long that the final having of it sent Maureen spiraling with something oddly like obsession.

Kissing was enough for the longest time, the shore sounds and the squawking of ocean birds and the feel of Gale Cleven laying more and more atop her as his tongue met hers and danced. She scratched the back of that tanned neck like she dreamed of doing a dozen times, little scritches to his hairline that had him sagging against her kisses to the point of crushing.

She allowed herself the liberty of running her hands along his lean sides, taking in the graceful taper of his waist, the dip of his back, the sopping wet waistband of his briefs. She wondered if this is how men feel with a young girl, when there’s so much loveliness one wants to maul it and mark it and watch it respond. Anything to make him moan again into her mouth, wrenched and helpless and appreciative of her all at once, anything for him to hump his hips against her thigh in a manner so mindless he didn’t seem himself at all.

When he pulled away, dazed and winded from his own exertions, he seemed to have left behind all his inhibitions, stark need written on his face and only some doubt of what he was allowed yet remaining. “Are we gonna?-“ he trailed off, raspy voiced and trembling with suspense.

“Going to what?” she couldn’t abide it any longer, his demureness, “Say your mind, Cleven.”

“Do it.” he let out with a wince.

“Well I don’t know, Mr. Jones, you tell me. Are we gonna?”

Gale huffed and threw his head back, trying to regain some sense of mind, lip savagely pulled between his teeth. “Yeah. We are.” he decided.

“Then finish your sandwich.” she patted his waist and pushed him off.

“I can’t!” he begged with a groan from where he’d spilled out on the porch like a boneless dummy. “Not now.”

“You’re gonna need it, the water too, trust me on this.”

“Are we gonna -make love? Or go for a forced march?” he protested but lifted the canteen to his lips anyways when she gave him a look and proceeded to drink it dry.

“How would you know the difference?” she teased and he had the good humor to roll his eyes. If all went according to Egan’s plan, they oughta hibernate for twelve hours of sleep afterwards and she wanted him hydrated and ready for that. Maureen had a plan of her own, which certainly might lead to such a sleep, but it also involved not getting off that boy for love of God or money until he was as useless as a wet rag and the impertinent gnawing between her own legs was replaced by a good ache.

Cleven was staring at his sandwich remorsefully, “I can’t get this down, Maureen.” he declared with sudden finality and then, without preamble he threw it into the sea. “C’mon, Mrs Jones.” he held out his hand for her as he stood up, something close to an excited grin taking over his face.

He was so confident now, having come to a decision, and Maureen found herself naturally bending to his direction, placing her hand in his large palm and allowing him to haul her to her feet as gently as a dance partner. “We’ve got a bed.” she reminded blissfully into another kiss, anchored to his face by the persistent hands snarled lovingly into her salt tousled curls: this hair Maureen, this hair drove me mad.

“And we’re gonna use it.” he agreed, walking her backwards up the porch until he feet were skidding over the threshold, his tongue still sucking her own.

She stopped him there with a hand to the willowy plane of his belly, a regulated, principled woman to the last, and snapped the still soaked waistband of his drawers. “Off, you’ll make the sheets wet and sandy.”

Their sweat would accomplish dampening them enough in this muggy heat, they didn’t need sand and ocean water to boot. Maureen ducked beneath his arm and went back out to grab the discarded towel.

“I don’t want a trail of drips on our clean floor.”

Gale smiled softly at the usage of “our” -it felt right somehow, to share things with her. They’d been at it for some time, it came naturally like it had with Bucky and the few other boys who he knew would be something special and unlike anything else after this. It was a little bittersweet to know he was living the best days of his life, right here and now, enviable, irretrievable moments of raw connection slipping away with each drip, drip, drip onto the threshold. It was a heartache in the making and it was a spur for the moment. Back home they’d never understand, and any old observer would see nothing unique, but Gale could allow himself the rightness of sharing just one more thing. Why not cement it fully, irrevocably, as the closest brush he’d ever come to with another soul- he’d asked himself the same with Bucky, knew it was already an established fact.

Maureen’s lips were warm where they pressed to his back, the space between his shoulders, towel held to his waist. “You’re not shy of me, are ya, baby?” she whispered in his ear, thumbing at the still worn briefs.

He could feel himself this past hour hardening and softening, so many times in the space of so many minutes he was dizzy with it, the way his brain would have the upper hand and then, suddenly no, it all rushed south. Which now left shyness as the only real excuse for the way he burned and shrank and burned and shrank in turn at each of her touches.

“You gonna give me the towel?” he asked instead.

“Once it’s safe to do so.” she replied primly, in her familiar nursing voice, and he hated the shudder that tore through him. She stepped under his arm again, around him and into the house, and stood in the shade of the it with the towel spread invitingly, tauntingly. A whole yard and a half between then and she’d decreed no drips past the threshold. Gale’s cheeks burned as did his eyes, smarting with brimming tears from an odd frustration he’d only ever felt over a botched mission, an anger at not being able to bomb his target and make it worthwhile, a petty frustration he always felt before the cold rage of lost men fully registered.

Futile tears: Gale yanked the skivvies down and stepped out of them efficiently.

Maureen wasn’t smiling at him from the shade anymore, not even a smirk, she looked hungry. She looked like Bucky, taking in “a view.” Gale didn’t know ladies ticked that way -or maybe they didn’t, maybe only Maureen did. The blush in his cheeks ran down his chest and spilled onto his belly and his fists clenched without thought.

“When the man of the house,” Maureen was reciting some inane pamphlet she no doubt did not heed or else they’d never be here, “respects the whims of the lady in small matters, he will find the lady more submissive to issues of larger stake such a-“

Gale made a dash at her, to shut her up, and she fled from him to the bedroom, feet smacking on the hardwood and cotton slip fluttering up her thighs -his towel with her.

“I want you bare.” he told her when he had her, struggling in his arms before the bed, a lush friction where he pressed tightly behind her.

“Then sit,” she sounded genuinely breathy, trapped to him and he had never heard her like that before, it made him want to hold fast, “and I’ll make your dreams come true.”

It was just a slip, no garters and no braisere or girdle, yet still Gale sat himself on the bed and Maureen bit her cheek to keep from laughing at the modest way he deposited the towel on his lap, covering what she’d been eyeing and thanking her luck for. A cock as pretty as his face -now if she could just make it stand up fully.

“You ready?” she deferred to him as she stood there before the bed, being looked on with all the reverence and trepidation of a goddess by this seated acolyte.

“Please,” he nodded furiously, “please show me.”

It felt a little wrong to expose oneself in front of such an angelic being, curtainless windows throwing in the sun on him all golden and untouched, white scratchy sheets and white draped towel making it a bower of innocence for a brief moment. It also felt right, to throw off everything but what they’d been born with. Off went rank, obligations and expectations, as easily as dragging the slip over her head.

She tossed the article of clothing behind her for good measure -and dramatic effect- then noted with satisfaction the bleary eyed comprehension of her charms from Gale Cleven where he sat with his mouth hung so slack he was liable to drool.

“Incredible.” he muttered, husky and a little slurred, his hand raising without his own volition to beckon her closer, a plea, command.

Maureen swayed on her feet, nearer and nearer until she was standing above him, between his parted legs and she shuddered as he laid that broad palm on her hip and dragged it up her side in an admiring swath, thumbing at her belly and catching her ribs in his hold.

“Those flight suits of yours, they don’t…they don’t let show the half of it.” Gale declared, mesmerized, face hovering closer and closer until his lips were pressing against her flesh, right under her sternum, his forehead pressed to the underside of one pendulous breast, nuzzling as he became aware of that, bunting like a calf at her breast with his face, gone silly with access.

“Whadda ya think?” she giggled, the silliness of Gale Cleven gone stupid over making yams jiggle being the exact sort of thing that made life worth living, and being a woman exquisitely satisfying.

“They’re so goddamn soft.” he moaned around a bit of the underside, still hadn’t worked his way to a nipple. He seemed too preoccupied with their give and bounce to make a more calculated use of them. Maybe if men hadn’t been told what to do with them, they’d do what Gale Cleven was doing and rub their face against them and let them rest on their foreheads. There was a charm to this ignorance as he licked the salty sweat from their undersides with a surprisingly brave tongue.

The clumsy misuse was oddly effective for Maureen, what Gale lacked in skill he made up for in unstudied appreciation and nothing got her quite so ready as being appreciated to the point of foolishness. Her first conquest had been a boy at school who hadn’t minded tripping in his track shoes, day after day, to try to catch up to her on her bicycle, just to give her a flower or trinket. He was laughed at for his devotion until he broke the school track record next year, and Maureen was sure to remind him of her role in his success. They’d soon found a mutually beneficial reward system and Maureen had adopted that attitude as a maxim for the future, her dates and conquests may have been many but each of them in their own way had been appreciative -or else she was jumping out the window, damn the twelve foot drop out the dormitory.

No one, however, had looked quite so gifted by her mere existence as Gale Cleven did while he clutched at her hips and smushed her flesh between his hands like it were some fine dough and he was an artisan.

Discreetly, and it was easy to be so with his face buried in her bosoms, Maureen glanced between them at the tool she had such hopes for and found it, unsurprisingly, twitching and dribbling against his thigh, half hard but flapping about like a fish on dry land, the discarded towel no match for its movement. He’d need a hand, literally and metaphorically, and as she raked her nails through his blond curls and directed his slick mouth to a nipple, she felt him sag even further into her hold. Maureen weighed her next step carefully, trying to tamp down her own wants. She’d need to be sure but slow, careful not to spook him, or antagonize or embarrass.

She wondered if he even realized the same banged-up-head condition that sent him out here was most likely responsible for the jitters that kept him flopping. She wasn’t so conceited as to assume he’d not bedded a woman yet out of mere dysfunction, Cleven was a man of principle and strict notions regarding how the world should be, and he wasn’t one to build those notions on passing medical conditions.

“You like ‘em?” Maureen teased him, shocked at how hoarse her own voice had gone in the interim.

“Gonna make a home in here.” he mumbled in the affirmative, slack grin molded to the valley between them, blue eyes wide as the skies outside peering up at her.

“Got a job for you, baby.” she murmured, thumbing at the scar on his cheek.

“What’s that Mrs. Jones?” his voice alone made her mad with need, as did the saucy turn of his mouth so wonderfully foreign she didn’t know how she’d control herself until he was ready.

“Need you to lick a little landing strip, right here.” she ran her finger along the somewhat tacky skin between her breasts, sweat and his sloppy kisses having partway done the job already.

“What for?” Gale asked, hushed and curious.

“You’ll see soon enough.” she recalled how effective her nursing voice had been on him, and pulled it out now it seemed beneficial.

She had been right, with only a hesitant spark of aggravated defiance, Gale dipped his head and stuck out that pink tongue, lapping a swath up between her breasts as directed, flaming eyes locked on hers as she shivered from the breeze on spit slicked flesh.

“Again.” she told him, and his hands came up to hold her breasts apart as he did it again, and again and once more under his own direction until it was shiny and messy and his nose was gleaming, too.

“What’s it for?” He demanded once more, pink cheeked and swallowing hard as his mouth had dried out from his efforts.

“I told you, silly,” she replied casually, “it’s a landing strip.” and with as little fuss as possible she got to her knees before he’d registered the absence of her standing above him. “Gale, let go of the damned towel.”

She held in a laugh of delight at the tortured color he had grown to, veins running like so much ivy up and down him and a vibrant pink tip that matched his lips. Maureen wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look him in the face again without thinking of this drizzling little pink mushroom.

“You oughta count your blessings, Gale Cleven, it was a close call, my coming along at all.” she informed him soberly while his mind visibly vacated his body at the repeated sighting of his sputtering cock emerging from between the pillowy press of her breasts, “It was pretty touch and go there for a bit, I was quite sure in fact, that Bucky was gonna help himself to this assignment.”

“Maureen!” Gale thundered, except his usual imposing ire was much diluted by his quivering belly and hoarse voice.

“What?” she brushed off his scandalized displeasure with a grin, feeling cocky herself as he hadn’t flagged on her in minutes and was beginning to gush in earnest, “Bucky loves the beach.”

“Sure, Maureen.”

“In the end he decided I had what it takes.” she went on conversationally, ignoring the inhuman sounds that came out of him when she casually spit on his tip, the better to work her lips around him, “These.” she clarified, pressing her breasts to his thighs as she wrapped her mouth around him and sucked.

“Fuck, hell, Maureen! Sorry, sorry, oh fuck!” -not even Gale Cleven had expected his hips to fly up that hard and fast, knocking on the back of her throat.

She laid her hands on his squirmy hips and did her best impression of a Listerine gargle round his tip, which sent a shudder through him so strong she thought he might’ve climaxed already.

“Maureen, Maureen come on, get up here, please.” now he yanked at her hair, desperate for once and that was a pleasure to hear.

“What baby?” she pulled off him.

“Gotta kiss you.” he told her firmly, and hauled her bodily up by her armpits, rolling her under him in the bed.

Kisses -sure, Gale, kisses.

He was moaning atop her, wiry and flexing his hips against her, wriggling to get between her thighs and she let him, hungry and expectant when he slotted easily in place. He pressed his lips to hers ardently, then reared back in shock at the taste of his own precum in her mouth and on her lips.

“Salty.” he whispered as if to himself before licking his lips and going back for more. “What do I need’to do?” he whispered urgently against her mouth as she rocked against him and he rocked back until they’d frustrated each other thoroughly with mere caresses.

“Put it in, my baby.” she whispered back.

“First though, don’t I need to-to do- something? Something first?” he could barely think straight but he’d heard enough talk about this, about gentlemen and the necessity of some form of chivalrous preparation. The way discipline and intuition set apart an average pilot from an excellent one. Bucky had talked a lot about getting girls ready, making them squirm, revving them up, for all his apparent disinterest during the topic, Gale had been listening.

“You’ve done it already, Mr. Jones.” she giggled, reaching between them to drag him more firmly through the wanton swamp he’d made of her. “I’m ready, I’m so ready.”

“Oh fuck, s’wet.” he mumbled the obvious before willingly letting her guide him in, his body following her tug like his cock were a leash.

“Jesus,— Gale!” Maureen choked as he bottomed out in a sudden plunge, shocked at the stretch despite the gauging of his size. “You’re so deep, oh baby you’re a big one aren't ya.”

“You ok?” he whimpered, shuddering on top of her again and again at the incomparable feeling of being inside another’s body.

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she gasped, “Hurts so good, you can move, baby.”

“You’re so warm.” he sounded close to worshipful he was so drunk off her, and Maureen spared a moment to smirk at the fate of man: come tearing their way out of a woman to begin their lives only to spend the rest of it trying to and needing to get back in.

He did try to move, she’d give him that. And while Maureen was more than half expecting it, still, it was mildly comical to see the confusion flash across his blissful face right as the buildup was snatched from him and he was suddenly shaking into the real event before he knew it, betrayed and euphoric all at once. The muscles in his belly and back and neck seized and his hips lunged in a series of uncoordinated pumps and she could read the panic in his eyes right before they rolled back -a begrudging admittance that this was nothing at all like the steady predictability of his hand.

“That’s it baby, that’s my baby, feel nice, huh?”

Gale didn’t answer her, too occupied whimpering with a taut throat and jaw clenched so tight he could snap a hinge like that. He was shaking worse than before when the spasms subsided and the tiniest pressure to his sweat slicked neck had him buckling to lay pressed against her, half senseless from the force of his release.

Maureen had always loved this part of sex, the pliable, bewildered, smushed man atop her like she’d sucked his soul out, when he’d rendered it up to her so willingly, so desperately, forcefully even, chasing his own eventual weakness. Long limbs aligning on top of hers, the hot pants of winded breath against her breasts, the hands listlessly holding on wherever that had last tried to grip and control her. The view from above with Gale Cleven was something additional, beautiful and glistening with bronzed swaths of sun exposed skin and the pale whites of his thighs and ass making a perfect little outline of absent shorts, his golden hair tousled beyond salvaging and that luscious mouth, drooling like a babe’s.

“So this is what Bucky’s been talkin’ about.” he mumbled into her breast, cheek smashed and enunciation shot to hell.

Maureen laughed in disbelief, “Thinking of him even now? Really, he’s going to be impossible if we tell him.”

“Just sayin’, now I know.” he defended, lazily rubbing his partly softened cock inside her with a shimmy of his hips that was quickly followed by an overly sensitive mewl.

“You don’t know anything, Angel boy.” she insisted and Gale raised his head at that, sour that she’d still contradict him after thirty seconds of vigorous pumping. “Let me see your hands.”

He had some trouble recalling where he put them but eventually he found them under her hips and withdrew them from their warm shelter to present them, warily. “Well, damn.” he muttered to himself, somewhat shocked by just how badly the shakes had worsened. “Looks like that treatment backfired.”

“More of a dose dependent case, I’d say.” Maureen corrected and circled each wrist with her hands and brought them up to her lips to kiss.

Gale’s face smoothed at her softness and a shy smile lit up his bleary eyes while she felt a twitch of his spent cock deep inside her, swishing about the mess he’d made like a dog’s tail after getting pats. “You have the most beautiful hands.” she informed him earnestly and balls deep inside her she watched as one single innocuous compliment sent him scarlet with a blush. “And they’ll be yours again soon.” she promised.

His gentle expression and bright red cheeks crumpled rather suddenly and before either of them seemed to expect it, fat teardrops had escaped the blue of his eyes and rolled down the crimson flesh of his face.

“Goddamnit.” he cursed hoarsely, in an absolute rage at himself, regaining his hands from her grip insistently to bring them up to his own face, hiding from her behind harsh fists that rubbed at his wet eyes like he could grind the grief and weariness out between his knuckles.

Unbalanced as he was without hands to support him, and legs gone jellied from his fast fading pleasure, Maureen chose to capitalize on it as a nurse would a brief state of insensibility to move a patient to a cleaner cot. Remorselessly she pressed at his shoulder and lifted their still joined hips until he tipped over, rolling onto his back beneath her. “We’ll have none of that.” she told him with loving adamance from her new perch, prying his hands away and pressing them to the sheets beside his head. “The hiding, I mean.” she clarified and he looked all of hardly past twenty laying there with wobbly lips and wet eyes unobscured, “I’m a very great proponent of crying,” she went on conversationally which confused him more but kept him too preoccupied to stifle his tears, “De-sanguination is still a highly esteemed practice, you know, it means to drain the body. One type of draining often triggers the other.”

“You gonna start bleeding me?” he asked wryly.

“Oh, maybe, you’d look so pretty all streaked up.” she teased and ran a sharp thumbnail over his pinned wrist.

Well, that got him hard again. Fascinating.

“You know what’s got your hands like this-“ she whispered softly, “-probably the same reason you flop, too.”

“Huh.”

“Pretty common.” she assured.

“Quit tellin’ me I’m common.” He growled, tickling her sides and she grabbed his hands, pinning them again playfully.

“Nothing common about you, sweet baby.” she swore, leaning down to kiss him and enjoying the way he met her strongly, surely, “Gale, can I move?” she asked, half strangled by the taut string of need coiled in her belly, tugged to madness by the bulk of him still resting limply inside.

“Move?” he was perplexed.

“I’m going to die if I don’t get some friction.” she whispered, somehow shy to admit that in the face of his innocent bewilderment, “God -please tell me someone has informed you women finish, too?”

“Bucky says they clamp up so tight you can’t help but blow.” Gale recited dutifully, “Which is what just happened, right?”

Maureen grinned wide and wicked before dragging her hips up till he was barely in, then plopping down into the cradle of his hips, making him let out a “oomph.”

“Maureen?” he questioned, half knowing already he had been mistaken but hell, to go again? “Maureen- I’ll die if we go again.”

“What a way to go.” she muttered, her pace atop him increasing as did the tortured gasps tumbling from his lips. His spunk was making terribly wet, lewdly sloppy sounds of suction each time she slammed down on his cock and the visual of her exerting herself on top of him was something so blatant and jiggly he could hardly endure the visual feast of it.

“Shit, shit I can’t-“ he growled while his trembling hands latched onto her hips in a grip that was anything but dissuading. “Maureen.” he begged her for…he knew not what.

“Come on Mr. Jones,” she clasped her hands around his face and aligned their noses, rubbing like a kiss with each movement of her lower body, “you’re not one to leave your missus needy, I know you’re not. Not when you’ve got such pretty hands-“

-a shudder from him.

“and a clever tongue-“

-a whine from him that sounded close to a wounded dog’s it was so lasting.

“-or a tool this capable.”

“Maureen.” he groaned.

“Baby, my baby.” she begged, “You’ve got what I need, come on, take me apart.”

Like he trusted himself for the first time since they began this endeavor, she felt his body bow up beneath her, his arm flexing strongly across her hips, his legs braced beneath her and a heavy hand clutching her neck, then he was driving up into her with a wild abandon she only ever hoped was simmering beneath that cool exterior. When she finished he hadn’t stopped, and Maureen found herself crying out like a feral thing into the hollow of his clavicle as the brutal pummeling went on, satisfaction drug out of her over and over in harsh ruts.

“That more like it?” he panted the harsher he grew, a hand around her jaw pushing her face away from his so he might see the damage he was doing.

“Yes, yes oh baby, yes!” she swore through clenched teeth, it had been too long and each blissful peak only aggravated her further, made her hungrier, that and the fact he was so proportioned as to be a constant delight just shy of pain, “Hell Gale, do ya hear us?” she gloated, propping herself back on his thighs to watch the shiny pink of him flash in and out of her wet sheath.

Mesmerized, Gale didn’t reply, but he dragged a hand up her belly and felt for the way it tensed at each intrusion, the span of his fingers an incredible thing across her skin. “Can’t believe you can take it, easy as that.” he marveled, his thumb straying and pulling apart her petals the better to watch.

“Thumb it right there.” she directed gently, reaching down to move his calloused finger over her bud, right above where he split her apart, “That’s it, ya feel that too, huh?”

“Fuck you’re tight.” his voice cracked and his eyes shot wide again.

“Are you -?”

“Maybe.” there was a wobble of blissed uncertainty in his voice until she stopped her movements and he let out a sob before he could catch it. “Maureen, please.”

“Please what, baby?” she was chuckling at him, pushing his hair off his sweaty forehead, “I let you-“ he pleaded, still thinking things worked that way, “-now I need, please Maureen...”

“Oh you can.” she assured and his face lightened but his eyes stayed wary, “But just know, I won’t be stopping.”

“What?”

“You remember how that feels, don’t ya baby?” she reminded, gently pushing him to lie back and beginning their movements anew, “So good you can’t stand it, so messy and easy for me, so tender and much for you?”

“Jesus.” he wheezed, his lean belly caving in with his heavy pants, but she felt him throbbing inside her and his pupils were large as saucers, “You’re as mean as Bucky.” he whined, voice gone high in panicked pleasure.

“Thank you, but really I’m not.” she laughed, gently thumbing away an errant tear that rolled down his cheek. “Not quite.”

“Maureen, please, please you’re too pretty!” he begged nonsensically even as his hips began to snap into hers, invigorated and forceful.

“Hold it Gale, try to hold it.” Maureen gasped, staring down at the prettiest face she’d ever seen as his brow began to furrow, “Or don’t, all the same to me.”

“I’m gonna flip you.” he swore and a few seconds of inaction passed, marked by the slam of her hips down onto his, and she thought he didn’t mean it until she gave him a daring look and suddenly she was careening backwards, head jolting against the sheets and body laid out firmly beneath him.

“Goddamn.” she swore at the way he hadn’t dislodged an inch during the whole maneuver, suddenly pressed just as deeply as before, his hips working like a piston and his hands tight and strong on her neck. “Goddamn baby. Oh goddamn that’s good.”

“S’good?” he begged her to repeat, some dizzying natural force propelling him harder and faster and needier.

“You’re so good.” she was adamant as she hung about his neck and locked her ankles in the small of his back. “You’re so good I’m - I’m -gonna-“

“What was that about holdin’ it?” he hissed, smile cocky and smug.

“Bull ain’t out of the gate yet Cleven,” she cautioned but her hips had begun to lift of their own accord, a tremble taking hold of her, “But I’m close, I’m, i'm real cl- oh God!”

“Come on sweet Maureen, wanna make ya -wanna do it for ya. Give ya what you need, Mrs Jones.” Gale’s hoarse and sweet nothings poured hot and breathy in her ear and Maureen found herself locked and gripping him before she knew it, moaning into his neck as he moved in and out, in and out as she’d only ever dreamed of.

When she cracked her dazzled eyes open again he was panting above her, the clink of his dog tags gently bumping her chin with each sway deeper, lashes batting in a golden flutter as he too began to lose himself, slower, more drawn out and yet every bit as desperate as the first time.

“Look at me baby, look at me when ya do.” she pleaded, gently gripping his chin as his mouth fell open in a series of little noises of effort that went straight to her belly grown hot and molten with the feeling of him spurting inside.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh,” Gale was working atop her in pained delight, lips so smeared and face so sweaty he looked like he might melt at any minute, “thank you, oh fuck, thank you, sweet Maureen.” he chanted low and dreamy, again and again until he drove in once more and stayed.

Those clear blue eyes fagged in an exhausted ecstasy, his head dropping impossibly further with each ragged pant until his face was barely hovering over her breasts, neck bent and forhead slowly pressing into the swell of them. His forearms gave out and those hands of his stayed trapped beneath her shoulder blades.

“Sleep Angel baby,” Maureen coaxed, hand cradling the back of his dear head to her breasts, feeling a low lazy peace settle over her at the feel of his dead weight plugging her up and the lovely wringing out she’d just endured, “let’s just sleep, dear boy.”

Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[luminouslywriting]

what do you think would be the reactions of the different men when they’re falling for a single mum? I think going with the time it’s more likely a young widow than a girl with a kid out of wedlock but who knows maybe John Brady just feels the desire to make an honest woman out of a poor girl at church who’s man ran off or Bucky takes to teaching his neighbors kid baseball because he sees their mom is stressed… just whatever guys you think would fit this

Nonny, this gave me actual brainrot so I hope you enjoy this so much 🥰🤍 as always, my requests are open and I don’t mind spam haha! More under the cut, cut for length, light spice sprinkled in:

Bucky Egan: (I had to run with the baseball idea haha)

-Absolutely the type of man who does not care about the past sexual history or life of a partner....and he's kinda looking for someone to date at the moment??

-But there's this kid on his block who's about six and he watches this kid attempt to throw a baseball every day and it just pains his soul because the form is awful and where is this kid's dad??

-So one day, he rolls on over to the yard of said kid and just starts offering pointers—he always wanted to be a baseball coach in his free-time and he just hasn't gotten around to it yet

-This sweet little boy makes him a deal that if Bucky comes over and teaches him how to throw a ball, lemonade will be made and given by you (his mom) and he will help Bucky paint his fence

-Bucky thinks it's a swell idea and it's at this surprising point to you that your son brings in the attractive war hero Bucky Egan straight to the kitchen and demands lemonade

-Well you and Bucky get to talking and you tell him that your husband died in the Pacific pretty early on in the war and your son has never really known a father

-That being said, it's a slow burn. He really enjoys getting to spend time with you and your son and he's afraid that he'll mess things up. But then your kid is inviting Bucky to dinner and you're telling him that it's no problem and you usually make too much food anyway.

-And somewhere along the way, he starts thinking of your house as more of a home to him than his own lonely home that he purchased. So naturally, this man panICS and has to call Gale and ask what he should do because he doesn't want to spook you or ruin the nice thing you've got going on.

-Gale definitely has to reassure him that if you both clearly want him there, then he should just go for it; Bucky deserves to be happy too.

-But he DRAGS his feet in the process....right up until your son accidentally calls him dad after hitting the ball with the baseball bat

-And then there's actual panic between you and Bucky and he's trying to apologize because clearly he's overstepped

-It would be at this point that you have to tell him that it's quite alright and you'd really like to get to know him more...because you like having him around and clearly your son adores him

-CUE THE FIRST KISS (first of many, might I add)

-It's the most darling domestic thing and he absolutely views your son as his son and he's never been so happy in his life

Gale Cleven:

-I think the most logical move here is that he finds you after Marge's passing. It was a short and love-filled marriage for them, but it was gone so quickly.

-He's devastated, naturally. And he doesn't really have anything left in Wyoming, so he sets out for Wisconsin.

-Now the thing about this is that John Egan has married Josephine Pitz—and Josephine Pitz's best friend is you. Your husband was a Marine during the war and died in action, leaving you with two little kids.

-You're doing your best but it's hard being a working single mom during the early 1950s.

-Cut to Josie and John setting this up just so

-Bucky makes the point that your car needs some work and you're a good friend of Josie's

-So this is how Gale Cleven is introduced to you—matchmaking via car-service haha

-Your two boys? Absolutely just wanna watch him work and wanna hear about everything that he's doing to the car

-But you're no fool and you know that Josie and Bucky are trying to set this up for the two of you

-So you just flat-out confront him about it and tell him that they're trying to be sneaky and that you're sorry he got caught up in their schemes

-But the thing is?? He's perfectly happy and used to their schemes. There's also the fact that this is the safest and calmest he's felt since Marge died.

-So he admits that he'd be willing to give this thing a chance if you are

-So it's a slow-burn for the two of you as you're trying to navigate around the fact that you've both already lost a partner and the fact that you have kids

-But he's so good with them and helps with the homework and genuinely just tries his best

-It's not a surprise to anyone when you're married a year later

Robert Rosenthal:

-On his way to the Nuremberg Trials, he meets you—a young lawyer who has recently just found out that you're pregnant (not that you're telling anyone that).

-You two become fast friends and he finds out that your husband was a British RAF Pilot who died. He's entirely sympathetic and sweet about the situation.

-The pair of you team up for the trials and it's amidst the preparations for the Trials that he finds you doubled over with morning sickness. This man assumes that it's the flu. Babe, it is not the flu.

-So a few weeks into you being sick and dealing with the trials, he's getting real concerned and you just have to spill the tea that you're pregnant.

-Not gonna lie, Rosie's heart shatters a little bit for you. It's not as if you want to leave the Trials to deal with pregnancy but you're also a whole ocean away and who do you have to rely on?

-Well he makes a promise that he's gonna help you through it

-And along the way, he's absolutely falling in love with you—with your dedication and kindness, the way that you're soft about the baby and continue to focus on work, and the way in which you're so determined to do everything entirely on your own

-He definitely very quickly makes you an offer that you're a little befuddled by

-The offer is marriage—and the thing is?? It's a damn good offer. You're a recent widow trying to do her job at the Nuremberg Trials, just found out you're pregnant, away from home, and have no support system

-So naturally you accept and this is a marriage born out of convenience and kindness to you....but there is so much affection and care.

-He's had feelings for you for a while and he's perfectly happy taking his time in the relationship and understands that you might not reciprocate the feelings in the same way.

-If nothing else, at least you'll be provided for, your child will have a father, and you'll always have a friend by your side

-It's at this point that your feelings start to develop because he's just such a good person and treats you so well and so clearly loves you

-The two of you are icons during the trials (Mr. and Mrs. Rosenthal), and he comes back from Europe with a wife and daughter on his arm....and no, he didn't tell anyone so it was quite a shock to everyone.

John Brady: (Also decided to run with it haha)

-Listen, this man has a picture perfect plan for what he wants to have happen when he gets home from the war and that's all fine and dandy, but this man was NOT planning on you haha

-You faithfully attend the same church as he does and it's pretty obvious that you're pregnant.....

-But man the gossip is bad. And he's not one to listen to idle gossip and just believe what people say. But evidently your fianceé had run off when he found out you were pregnant and had taken any chance of a reputable life. It's ROUGH, okay??

-And the thing is, John Brady is out here just trying to do his Christian duty by seeing if you need any help over at your house....because he also passes it on the way to Church and YIKES, your yard is going through it

-It's the first time that someone just offers to do something nice for you??? You're so thrilled about it

-So he comes over that summer and does your yard work for you and you make little sandwiches and he gets to have lunch with you

-The thing is, you two get to talking and he finds out that you weren't even planning on having kids for a while anyway and it was YOUR former man who wanted to do the deed and refused to help out in any way. This is entirely a man's folly and has ruined things for you.

-Now he feels bad, he does....

-But he's not trying to make a move or anything. At the moment anyway haha. Instead, he invites you to spend some time with his sisters because you need friends anyway and they all have kids so they can help you know what to expect for pregnancy.

-Well it's all going great and he's pretty happy with the fact that you now have a support system and he's starting to make some waves in work. And then the yard is done and finished.

-And for some reason he's offering to help with the plumbing and the inside work too? It's definitely not because he's worried about you and it's definitely not because he's very very attracted to you in any way shape or form lol.

-I don't think anything actually happens until you're right ready to pop....at which case YOU kiss HIM because you're just real impatient

-And he doesn't get to respond to anything because your water breaks and he's taking you to the hospital

-So while you're in labor, this man is processing the fact that he MAYBE really really likes you and has already planned out the rest of your lives together, but that's BESIDES the point

-He still feels like he's taking advantage here....right up until you have a son and you name him Johnny because Brady was the only person that was kind to you during pregnancy and this man just melts on the spot, professes love to you—and tells you that he wants to take care of you for the rest of your life.

-Chef's kiss tbh

[garlicbreadbatstarion]

BG3 Companion Headcanons

🪩🥂🌹Going to a ball🌹🥂🪩

Wyll:

We all know Wyll is definitely the best dancer

And everyone would recognize him and want to chat and don't even get me started on the ladies absolutely swooning over him

But he'd be sure to show you off and focus in on you in such a way that you never doubted that he only has eyes for you

Give him a tune and he will make it happen: he can dance ballroom, waltz, tango, salsa, swing, and more!

It would also be super important to him to learn dances from your culture to show you how invested he is in you🥺

Will always have one last dance with you after you stumble home, just the two of you as he hums in the twilight of the kitchen

Lae'zel:

Would complain about having to dress in impractical clothes the whole time getting ready

Until she sees how stunning you are and, although she still says it is impractical, she would definitely tell you your elevated look is beyond satisfactory

Would probably hop into random conversations she finds interesting and scope out the whole event

Though she'd resist dancing in front of strangers, you'd catch her tapping her foot to the music

And on the walk back you could twirl her around (very briefly) and crack her tough exterior just enough to see her smile but she would deny any such thing if you ever tried to mention it again

Astarion:

Doesn't remember much about actually learning it anymore, but ballroom comes really easily to Astarion and it brings him a lot of joy to feel something his torment could not successfully erase

He also loves that dancing with you is an easy excuse not to talk to the high society crowds that often show up at events like this, and instead you can gossip together the whole night

"my dear we should get one of those for you!" And he'd wiggle his eyebrows and gesture to an over-the-top man in a bright green tailcoat, an 18" powdered wig covered with tiny Baldurian flags and ribbons atop his head. You'd slap his shoulder playfully and try to conceal your laughter

Even when you take a break from dancing, his hand is (respectfully) around your waist to protect and guide you through the crowd

Would 100% get drunk with you and sneak off into a non-party area of the venue to make out

Karlach:

A little too excited bc she lovesss parties of any variety

Does a frantic fashion show while you get ready, panicking about what go wear

She definitely does crazy moves in each outfit to test out it's danceability

Would turn into a dad the way she makes friends literally the whole time; it takes 10 minutes just to get inside because she can't stop chatting with the doorman

She asked Astarion to teach her to dance as soon as she found out you were going to this, that way she can successfully woo you on the dancefloor!

Gale:

He was very nervous to dance because he always skipped his school dances at the academy so he could explore forbidden places while the rest of the school was preoccupied

He definitely confides in Wyll on all this, and our lovely homeboy teaches him then and there how to lead💃

Gale can't stop the bi-panic when Wyll dips him almost down to the floor, with a cheeky wink

But now that you're here he's excited to listen in on the conversations of the many researchers and society members here!

He would get engrossed in conversation and you'd go dance with some friends that were there and it's like a romcom when he turns and sees you twirl across the floor🥲

He completely abandons his colleagues and appears out of nowhere, hand on your waist, waltzing you around

Wyll does a sly lil fist pump "yes, my man!" as he sees Gale spin you from across the floor

Shadowheart:

She lovesss getting ready and helping you get ready as well

Loves the tiny hors d'eouvres and smallglasses of wine and champagne they serve at events of this scale

It unlocks a core memory of her mother reading her fairytales as a girl, and she quickly wipes a small tear before it can fall

The quadrille is her favorite, she loves that it's social and friendly without having to hold a full conversation with a stranger

Would pepper your face with kisses on the way home thanking you for such a lovely time

Halsin:

He's not super used to the formal dance styles of the city, but he's ready to learn as he goes for you!

But he also flirts with the violinist and easily convinces him to play a little jig so he can show off

Also loves the food; I firmly feel Halsin would be a really adventurous eater and he'd be excited to try the variety of new spices and flavors they have at this event

Has 0 clue but the entire venue is ✨obsessed✨ with him

[brotherwtf]

Idk why I’m suddenly craving this but Age Gap AU where Gale gets in a car accident? Maybe he’s had a bad day at school or some panic episodes triggered by his dad or a memory and something happens on the road. Now he’s feels horrible because John’s car is badly damaged but John’s losing his shit rushing to the hospital because Gale’s hurt, not life-threatening but significant enough to have to stay there for a couple days.😭

oh my gosh John certified worrier good Lord gonna start crying

----

Gale doesn't even know how it happened exactly.

It was a rough day. He couldn't find a parking spot in the morning, he failed one of his quizzes, and his lab TA fucked up the results of his three hour lab. Gale was just so fucking exhausted.

What tipped him over the edge was one of his professors yelling at the class. It was one of his older professors, one that reminded him and awful lot about his father, and he had just shouted for the class to be quiet. Nothing more.

But Gale was instantly brought back to his home, where his father would shout and scream for Gale and his mother to shut up, to shut the fuck up, and then followed by his fist or belt across Gale's face.

He felt sick to his stomach, but he gutted out the rest of the class, hoping the feelings would go away.

They didn't, even when Gale went back to his car he was still trembling, could only remember the sting of his father's hand and his voice calling him names and shouting. He could barely keep the car straight on the drive home.

It was a stroke of luck that Gale didn't collide head on with the truck.

It wasn't his fault, the truck had swerved dangerously into his lane, but he was so out of it that he didn't have time to swerve out of the way, colliding with the driver's side bumper and jolting into the side of his car.

Gale was lurched forward, hitting his cheek against the steering wheel and he knew that he was going to have a nasty bruise there. His arm bent at an odd angle but didn't break, just hurt like a mother fucker when he tried to move it.

But even then all Gale could think about was how fucked up Johns car was. He didn't take it often, John usually took it to work, but today John was picked up from the house by a subordinate, and John told Gale he could take the car instead of the bus.

And Gale had crashed the car, had practically totalled it, and John was going to kill him, he just knew it. Even when the ambulance had carted him to the hospital to get his injuries looked at, all he could think about was how mad John was going to be at him.

He reluctantly gave the nurse Johns number for his contact, was half considering just giving his mother's, but couldn't stand his father possibly picking up and coming to the hospital just to berate him.

So here he was, nervously wringing his bandaged hands together and waiting for John to yell at him, to tell him off and force him to pay for the damages to his car.

When John comes rushing into the hospital room, practically shoving the nurse aside, Gale immediately starts apologizing, ducking his head to avoid John's furious gaze.

"I'm really fucking sorry, John. I swear, I'll pay to fix it, it was all my fault," Gale mutters and feels the weight of John sitting on his hospital bed, clenching his fingers even tighter on the thin sheet covering his legs.

He flinches when John lifts his hand gently, expecting a slap across the face for his actions, but John only tilts Gales chin up towards him, a look of concern and worry covering his face. His hands are trembling as he holds his chin, something concealed with a calm facade on his face.

Gale expects John to let the emotions bubble over, to let him have it, but John only brings him in for a bone crushing hug, careful enough to avoid Gales injuries and sighing into his hair. Gale trembles, bringing his hands up to hold onto John's arms, confused.

"Oh my fucking God, Gale. I'm so glad you're okay," John whispers and Gale's even more confused.

"But your car," Gale mutters and he can feel John shake his head against his neck.

"Fuck my car, that piece of shit was old as fuck anyway. God fucking dammit Gale when I got that call I figured the worst. I'm so glad you're okay," John says and his hands tremble even more.

John pulls away and picks up Gale's bandaged hands and presses his lips together, bringing them up against his cheek and looking in Gale's eyes. Gale still can't bring himself to smile.

"Are you okay? Come on, doll, you look so upset, tell me what's up," John says.

Gale shakes his head when he can feel the tears well up in his eyes, looking down into his lap to avoid John's gaze. He can see John shake his head and lift his chin with his other hand, forcing him to look into his eyes again.

"Just my dad... my dad would have killed me for wrecking his car," Gale mutters and he feels the tears break onto his cheek.

John shushes him and brings him in for another embrace, pressing his face into John's neck. He smells like the spicy cologne he always wears, and Gale breathes it in to try and comfort himself.

"No, no, Gale I could never be mad about that. I was so worried you had gotten hurt, I couldn't care less about my car. You'll always be more important than that old thing," John says and Gale can't stop the tears from flowing down his face.

John lets him cry into his shoulder, bringing one of his hands up to comb gently through Gale's hair as he sobs.

"I ain't never letting you out of my sight again, you're gonna have to keep me in your pocket so I can always protect you," John says with a faint chuckle, and Gale can't help but laugh, feeling safe in John's arms.

[rrking]

Some General BG HCs

Me and my wifey often discuss Astarion things in real life, and there are a few that I thought I would share.

Spoiler warning⚠

Astarion

Random knowledge bank. Meeting your parents for the first time and your dad wants to talk about history? Ask Astarion, if he doesn't just know, he remembers.

Enjoys going to the library. Does not enjoy the rabble who also enjoy the library. You have to explain to him over and over about library cards and infrared scanners so he doesn't just nope out and steal the book. Also gets annoyed when books from his time are revised.

Don't want to touch the raw meat packaging? No worries, Astarion will lick it up for you. Imagine him leant against the kitchen counter sucking up the blood from that piece of paper at the bottom of the mince. (A wifey thought)

On the subject of blood, if you cut your finger in the house he will be licking that up for you with a leering grin. Dragging it out so he can watch how you roll your eyes at him.

Comes in late, as usual, but this time after taking out every fucking goose or pigeon in the local area. The council are unhappy. Astarion is ecstatic. Word of a bird plague is sweeping through the borough. You are not happy with Astarion. Astarion doesn't care about the council until they put your council tax up.

Glares out of the window at kids playing but won't admit they're kind of cute. Especially glarey when kids come to the door trick or treating. Bonus points if they're dressed as vampires... Maybe he'll compliment them. "Darlings, look at your adorable little capes! Does your mother know you lot are prancing around dressed like monsters?" Will absolutely deny any niceties when you look at him knowingly, a smirk appearing on your lips as you notice the bucket of sweets he's holding, still excited after giving the children far more than they needed. or asked for.

Moans and groans when you watch vampire films. "Darling, turn that nonsense off, would you? Were you curious about vampires, you have one right here."

Groans even more when you watch law and order style programs, particularly court ones. Bad memories. "And why did he not get the death sentence?!"

Serial social media meme stealer.

Always creeps up behind you when you are looking in the mirror, ready to scare you. Or shag you, you be the judge.

Gale

Want chippy but don't want to get up or wait for an order? Blink. Gale will blink there and back. What's faster than Uber Eats? Going via the Astral Plane.

100000% will make you a brew if you ask :) He turns up with your favourite mug and your drink exactly the way you like it.

The type of man to run you a hot bath ready when you get in from work or if you've had a hard day just because.

Definitely discovers Nivea for Men.

Remembers things like birthdays and anniversaries.

Sees shiny things and wonders if they're infused with the weave. Gazing through the jewellery shop window.

Suffers through Harry Potter at Christmas wondering where all the elegant wizards are.

Started a thing where you leave post it notes for one another with sweet nothings on. Today as you're walking past the calendar pinned to the kitchen wall, you spot a new post it note. This one is pink and bares Gale's graceful handwriting. It reads: "My most special one, everyday I wake up next to you I feel luckier than the last. Have a great day x" Such devoted notes leave you feeling warm inside.

Halsin

Prefers to buy 'living herbs' than ground jar ones because NATURE.

Is that person who goes past an adult shop and says loudly "let's go inside!"

Definitely gets stuck in garden chairs and the like due to being so massive. Don't get this man in a smart car.

Stands up at barbecues if the chair is too small. It probably is.

Literally has to be told to avoid the bear story to others because they will not understand but tells it anyway if he gets too drunk.

Actually finds it quite difficult to adapt to modern society almost more than Lae'zel.

If you live in the countryside, Halsin definitely finds it a little easier, but if you live in the city he is constantly asking questions. The thing that catches his eye today is a statue above the bank door - a lion with a key in his mouth. "Does that petrified displacer beast not wish to return to the wilderness?" "Halsin, that is a statue of a lion with a key in it's mouth." "...Oh. Why does it guard a key?" You look at him curiously, unsure of how to answer such an innocent question. "It's just HSBC's thing... I don't actually know."

Struggles to find clothes that actually fit.

Will share you a meme you tagged him in and never truly understand the new technology.

Totally enjoys long walks and feeding ducks. Eats all of the bread.

Tries to speak to the animals at the zoo. (Wifey)

Incosolably weeps at nature programs. Very confused when you try to explain that nature has to take it's course for them to film.

First thought upon seeing CGI animals dancing and talking : "IT'S A DRUID!"

Votes Green Party.

Lae'zel

Lae'zel struggles the most to integrate into modern society.

She takes up some form of fighting WWE and does not understand why the fighters don't actually hurt each other.

She complains about this after making absolute bank of course. "Ch'k! These istik talk about fighting for glory - Yet they simply roughhouse for pitiful coin." "Yeah, but look at how famous you are, Lae'zel..." Rollin', rollin', all my bitches rollin'.

Hates ood in Doctor Who for obvious reasons. "Tsk'va, ghaik!"

Wifey came up with 'Bae'zel'.

Karlach

Believes stupid spam emails you have to send onto others. (Wifey thought of this)

Shares that post of the missing dog on the other side of the world who was found 3 years ago.

Discovers TikTok, only shares animal videos and smashes TikTok dances.

Discovers aircon. 🥺

Discovers hot wing challenges... Excels at said hot wing challenges. and collects all the t shirts for winning food challenges.

Shadowheart

Posts things on Facebook like 'Shar/Selune keeps me in check. Like, share and comment 'Praise be to Shar/Selune' if she keeps you in check." Definitely gets flamed by the others.

Ends up with cute hobbies like paper quilling and crafts. Makes things for you. "You've really improved your crochet, Shadowheart! What is this one called?" Gives him a simple name like Bob or Clyde and puts him with the rest, cramming the mantle with them.

[anothersadsimp]

Musical Detour

Astarion x Bard!Reader

Words: 3000

Synopsis: Imagine that scene in Tangled where they're all dancing n stuff but Tav does the music. Thats pretty much it. FLUFF

A/N: THIS STARTED AS A SMALL CUTE IDEA AND HERE WE ARE OVER 3000 WORDS LATER FUCK. Okay back into the void bye.

You and your party had just arrived at Wyrms Crossing after defeating a used to be immortal and a literal god. Tensions were high as well as the exhaustion that flooded your minds and bodies, but there was an elder brain to be stopped. Refugees surround the lower levels of the city, bickering and groaning from long travels. 

“So many people seeking refuge.” Shadowheart mummers. 

“All hoping to get into Baldur's Gate, where my father is held. They won’t get the help they need until we save him.” Wyll notes.

“One problem at a time. Why don’t we set up camp? Me, Astarion, Karlach, and Gale will take a look around.” You suggest, trying to keep your tone light. 

“Sounds good, be safe.” Shadowheart nods, before leading the others to the area we scouted. 

“Well, where are we off to now, oh fearless leader?” Astarion chides. 

You sigh, looking around the surroundings overwhelming you. You see a cobble road to your left which leads to multiple buildings with people bustling about. You turn and nod your head towards the road, “This way seems like a good start.”

You start walking down the path where it leads to the main road. Once you reach it there's a line of people waiting in front of a gate. You were about to start maneuvering around them when one of your companions stopped.

“Oh. My. Gods. It’s the Circus of the Last Days! My mum and dad would bring me when I was a kid.” Karlach exclaims, stomping in place for a moment in excitement. “Tav we have to stop in just for a little bit. Please?” 

Her excitement brought a smile to your face, and you couldn't help but want to go just for her enjoyment. Who knows what silly mischief your current company will get into going in, it certainly piqued your interest. You looked around Karlach’s large frame to the others behind her with your shoulders shrugged, and a natural smile gracing your face.

You knew just how to convince Astarion into getting into trouble, more than he actually realized after you became official. It wasn't just the effortless smile that seemed to radiate off of you that convinced him, but your eyes grew wide as soon as they met with his.

He sighs, “Fine, but if there's any clowns, you’re on your own.”

Karlach jumps with excitement, which makes your smile widen. Suddenly she grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the entrance. Astarion frowned for just a moment after your face, holding an expression that rivaled the sunshine on his skin, was ripped away.

“No stopping those two once they’re together. They seem to be the only one that can keep up with Karlach’s energy.” Gale comments before following behind them. 

Astarion watches a moment longer before jogging up to stand behind you, Karlach taking his spot next to you still holding your wrist. He is still as close to you as he can get, his chest just barely rubbing against the back of your armor. The feeling causes you to turn your head to the side just so with a small smile, always acknowledging his presence. 

Your attention gets turned back ahead of you as the line moves up. As you step up you see an elf in some of the most colorful clothes you’ve seen, along with a ghoul dressed up as hideously as the elf.

“Hello, hello, and welcome to the Circus of the Last Days!” He greets enthusiastically.

“Hello, we’d like to enter please.” You say.

“Ah yes! Come and forget your worries! Benji just has to check if you're a vicious murderer first.” He says with a smile. “Benji!

The clownish ghoul stalks up towards the four of you and begins sniffing the air.

“BLOOD. TASTY BLOOD, SO DELICIOUS” It shouts and laughs maniacally.

“Well, I gotta say that's the first. Sorry folks, I'm afraid you cannot enter. Have a nice day!” He dismisses. 

After seeing how excited Karlach had gotten, and how her shoulders drooped, you refused to take no for an answer. Even if you could feel Astarion perk up behind you at being turned away, and Gale sighing somewhere behind. 

“Oh! Did I forget to mention, I’ve been recently hired! Meet your new bard! And their band of misfits.” You exclaim, gesturing with your arms and showing your violin. 

“Oh! No one tells me anything around here. Well, welcome to the family. You’ll want to talk to Ringmaster Lucretious once you head in. Good luck!” He says before moving to open the gate to the circus.  

You smile awkwardly towards the strange gatekeeper and continue into the entryway. Once through you could see colorful booths lined up, each with a different character expressively trying to get customers. You slowly walk past each one, taking in every detail you can of each vendor. Clearly they’re swindling. Years of being a bard on the streets had taught you a thing or two about how con artists work, and sometimes having to be one. 

“Surprising to see how many people fall for these silly games, just a waste of gold.” Gale comments. 

“Common, I want to play at least one game, the point is to have fun!.” Karlach whines. 

You reach into your pouch and pull out some gold holding your hand out towards her, “Go crazy Karlach.” you say with a smile.

A fiery, playful grin adorns her face, “Thank you!” She grabs the gold from your hand and quickly brings you into a bone crushing hug before racing off.

You, Astarion, and Gale continue walking, checking out the rest of the booths. As you venture deeper into the circus you start to hear music. It sounds like a few people playing together playing a familiar song. One you know by heart. You couldn't help but follow the music, your pace increasing.

“Something catch your attention, my dear?” Astarion asks behind you, but it doesn't quite register in your head and you continue walking.

You round a wide corner to see a little band playing just a few shallow steps down. There's a gnome holding a strong steady beat, while a drow plays strums on a lute. Alongside them was an elf carrying the main melody on their flute. The music begins to take you, the beat drumming in your chest, becoming your new heartbeat. The rhythm of drow’s strumming makes it feel as if you could float away with its voice. You tracked the elfs movements as he played the main part of the song. He’s floating around the crowd, trying to keep them engaged. 

You close your eyes for a brief moment, really listening to the flute. The key they’re playing the song in, each particular note to the beloved melody they play. Slowly you grab your violin strapped to your back with its bow. You can hear the notes in your head, and you know just the right moment to jump into the song.

“Everything alright?” Gale asks, but once again the question falls upon deaf ears.

The three musicians look at eachother, and the tension and volume of the music increase. It’s about to happen, and your eyes coles once more. The main part is coming up and that's when you’ll jump in. You keep your eyes closed counting to drumming that took over your heartbeat. 

1

2

And

You leap down the 3 shallow steps to be on the same level as the other musicians starting to harmonize with the flute. Your eyes were closed, lost in the melodies the four of you create. Your body moved with the music stepping, skipping, turning in whichever way the music desired it to.

People nearby cheered, some throwing gold at you and the three others. Eventually the cheering turned into a gathering of dancing and laughing. Random circus patrons and even workers stop to watch your merry band. The laughter made your eyes open to see wide smiles surround you. Couples and children dance around you causing a wide smile to shine on your face. 

Meanwhile Astarion and Gale stood right where you left them staring at the scene before them. Astarion shifts his weight onto one leg, and his arms cross. He tilts his head to the side as he watches you, and swears your smile blinds him momentarily. Without realizing it the corners of his mouth curl up as you start to interact with the crowd. You crouch down in front of a small human child and poke them lightly with the tip of your bow during a small break. The child giggled, hands coming out to try and catch your bow but you pull away with a twirl and begin to play once again.

“Always up to something.” Gale smiles, his body relaxing.

“You mean always causing a scene? Then yes, they’re quite good at that.” Though the words seem a tad harsh, there's no sense of malice in them. That soft smile of his refusing to leave. 

After another twirl you stop a moment, out of breath but refusing to stop playing. You look over towards your companions and see them looking at the scene unfolding. Only Astarion was staring straight at you. You stare into his blood red orbs the best you can from the distance between you. Even though you’re already breathless it feels as if he took your breath away, and not the performing. Warmth spread through your body from his gaze making you feel both giddy and shy. 

You force yourself to turn away from Astarion to look at the ensemble beginning to end the song. The drum slows, the rest following its beat as the flute dies off. You begin to improv with the strums of the lute as the drum slowly fades. You lock eyes with the drow ready to finally finish the song. They strum the last chord, as you play the last few notes while slowly bowing. You draw the last note out and stop, bowed over in a small lunge-like stance and your chest heaving.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and shouts. Gold clattered onto the stone beneath your feet, which made you stand to full height. Everyone around you had wide smiles, applauding you and the others for the show. You walk over to talk to the other musicians, and help them pick up the gold.

“Did you know they could play like that?” Gale asked, one hand holding his chin clearly amused. 

“I-I had no idea.” He said in disbelief. 

They both knew you could play, have even heard you practice no matter how hard you tried to hide it. But they had no idea how well the practice had really paid off. They had no idea how well you actually perform in front of people. Astarion briefly wondered how your name wasn’t well known for your talents. 

You turn away and leave the group of musicians behind you, violin packed on your back, and head towards your companions. About half way there the small child you poked ran up and tugged on your pant leg. You crouch down to see they have a few small wildflowers in their small fist held out towards you.

“Thank you! These are beautiful.” The child lights up at your words and runs back towards their parent. You stand back up and continue to walk back towards your friends. You look down at the flowers and pick one to put behind your ear.

You stop in front of Astarion and Gale, still too preoccupied with the flowers to see their astonished faces. Once you were satisfied you looked up at them, and you can’t tell if the warmth you’re feeling is embarrassment or residual from all the dancing. 

“That was amazing!” Gale exclaims, his smile wider than you’ve ever seen. 

You let out a little huff of a chuckle, a bashful smile adorning your face, “Thanks.”

“So, you do really have talent after all.” Astarion teases, with a wicked smirk to match.

Somehow you can't help but relax from his silly teasing, a genuine smile coming back as you hit his shoulder. “Shut up” you mumble. 

“It’s really a shame Karlach missed that. She’ll be sad when she finds out, no doubt.” Gale comments. 

“Please, she would’ve burned her heart out from dancing if she were here.” Astarion cracks.

“We should probably find her.” you say trying to change the topic, “The games couldn’t have taken that long. I saw her run off that way” you point. 

“Right. Well let’s make sure she hasn’t burned anything, yes?” Gale rhetorically asks as he leads on the way in the direction you pointed towards. 

You turn to follow Gale but stop when you don’t feel the vampire's presence behind you, “You coming?” You ask.

You turn around after asking to see if he’d followed but you still see him standing there. His arms were no longer crossed, he had one hand on his hip that was jutted out and the other resting at his side. His eyes were still trained on you almost as if you had put him in a trance. He finally made eye contact, and that subtle smile that naturally came to him when looking at you grew. 

Astarion started making his way to you, never once looking away from your widened eyes. You couldn’t look away from him as he stalked towards you, Gale and Karlach forgotten from one endearing gaze from your vampire. You take note of that cute little smile that adorns his face. It’s small, but it's rare to see a smile like this one from him. Once that's genuine.

He stops in front of you, one hand coming to grab your waist to bring you closer. You raise your hands up to his chest, one hand still clutching the other flowers the child gifted you. You’re nearly chest to chest if it weren't for your arms trapped in between you two. The hand on your waist now further towards your back as his arm wraps around you. The other hand comes up to the one holding the flowers, running his fingers gently over the back of your hand. 

“You really are something, you know that?” His voice is deep, and low enough for just you to hear. 

“That I am, though I do hope you mean it in a good way.” You tease, head cocking to the side. 

“Depends on the day, really.” He says with a dumb contemplative look on his face, that smirk never leaving. “But yes, I do mean it in a good way.” 

He looks back into your eyes, before the drop down and he leans closer. Both of your eyes close in unison as he gives you a gentle, chase kiss. You unintentionally softly sigh into the kiss, loving the feeling of him close to you. He pulls away and you’re still momentarily dazed, eyes taking a second before opening to see him looking back at you.

A little chuckle escapes him at your dazed expression, “Aren’t you just an adorable little pup.” 

You hum at his teasing comment, slowly coming out of the trance he put you in. You look at the flowers still clutched in your hand and grab the small red one with your other hand. 

You somehow get closer than you already were, your lips grazing his ear, “Same can be said about you, my love.” you whisper. 

As you tease him with your breathy words against his ear, the hand holding the small dainty flower comes up to place it in his luscious locks. Your hand brushes his other gently as you work causing the smallest of gasps to escape his lips, you would’ve missed it if not being so close. You step back after twining the flower into his curls, taking in every detail of his face and your work. The red hue flower perfectly matched the highlights of his eyes as they shine in the sun that bathes the entirety of Baulders Gate.  

“Perfect.” You smile. “Anyways where did the other misfits go?” You wonder, starting to turn around looking for them. You start walking in the direction you saw Gale disappear to, leaving Astarion behind. 

He stared in bewilderment as you walked off, not quite ready for you to turn the table so fast on him in more than one way. ‘Certainly is something’ he thinks to himself as a small smile of disbelief graces his lips, before walking after you. 

BONUS:

You and Astarion were still looking for Gale and Karlach. The circus really wasn't too big, and how does one lose a tall, rambunctious, fiery Tiefling. You were coming up on the last few booths, and still no luck. Did you pass them?

“Where in the hells are they?” You wonder out loud, beginning to get tired of walking in circles. 

Astarion was cut off, from what was no doubt a teasing or snarky comment, by running footsteps approaching the both of you. People part as you see Karlach jog towards you, you can tell she’s burning hotter than usual. You brush it off knowing it's from excitement, judging by the smile on her face. You then notice she's holding something rather large in both of her arms.

“Guess what I just got!” She shouts.

She raises a large owlbear blush closer to her chest as to showcase it, arms around its middle as if she's carrying a real owlbear cub. You’re surprised it's not being chared by her excitement.

“He matches the one we got at camp, now he’s got another friend!” She screams in excitement. “That game merchant had no idea what hit him!”

“Oh, no. Please tell me you didn’t set anything on fire.” You groan

“No, but they will need a new strength gage, and hammer.” Gale chides in, strolling behind Karlach. “Quite an impressive display nevertheless.” 

“Somehow I’m not surprised. Now I heard something about a terrible clown? Let's see how terrible.” You say with genuine curiosity.

“You’re really gonna drag me to a clown show?” Astarion scoffs.

“Come on! It’ll be fun, well fun to make fun of him.” You say, having to think halfway through after listening to yourself. 

Your hands grab one of Astarions before dragging him along with you to the circus stage. He groans and reluctantly lets you lead him away. The other two follow behind you, Karlach distracted with her new plush and Gale wondering how he ended up with such fools.

[vioartemis]

I’ll die with you

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: Months after the 2022 massacre, you reunite with someone dear to you. But the happiness in only temporary; a new killer is targeting you. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 a/n: This will probably be a multi chapters story with very irregular posting :)) Warnings: blood, injuries, Ghostface stuff, angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

"Hey, I'm not going to disappear okay?"

You laughed as your girlfriend pouted when you pushed her away gently. You were lying on her bed, her on top of you kissing you desperately as if you were about to vanish.

"It's just two days Tara, maybe less knowing her"

"Well that's still too long! Who's going to cuddle with me if you're not here? And my morning kiss?"

"I'll make up this, I promise" you kiss her "After this weekend"

She groaned slightly, disappointed. But she knew it was important for you.

"Can we stop talking now? I want to enjoy our last moment together..."

"Don't be dramatic, it's not our last moment together. When you say it like that it looks like we will never see each other again..."

She didn't answer and kissed you again, desperately.

You hadn't been separated in a while since the... incident. You were so used to be on each other all day it was hard being without her for too long.

Her lips were soon on your neck, placing hot, wet kisses here, sucking dark purple marks there, hands everywhere on you. You let out a sight, fingers tangled in her hair.

"Tara..."

She hummed against your skin, hands sliding under your shirt. You felt her smile on your shoulder when she felt you shivering under her cold fingers.

You arrived late at the train station, hair still a little messy. You rolled down your window and looked around for the person you were waiting. She wasn't difficult to spot with her blue suit.

You texted her you were there. She looked up, and starting walking toward you, a smile replacing her previous frown.

"Where did you get that car? Are you even allowed to drive it?" she asked as she took place next to you

"I stole it"

She gave you a "are you serious" look. You rolled your eyes, smiling.

"I'm kidding, I bought it. And yes, I have a licence"

You started to drive home calmly.

"How was New York?" you asked

"Oh you know, with work I don't really have time to visit"

"You know that's not what I meant"

"I know"

"... It's going to get better right...? Does it ever go away...?"

"Not completely, never. It's normal to feel that way. You cared about him, we both did. Time will ease the pain, but he will still be in our hearts. Forever"

She had never been good at reassuring anyone, but this time she found the right words.

Months after, your dad's death still hurt. It was normal, you knew it. You wanted to get over it, like everyone told you, but there was always that part of yourself that still believed he would come home.

"I'm back" he would say with a smile "Sorry I made you wait, the delivery guy forgot the sauce, again"

But that never happened. It never would.

With your mom out of town, you didn't think too much about him. Or at least that's what you said not to worry Tara. Now that she was back, even if it was only a weekend, the good old days came back, flashing before your eyes.

You parked in front of the house, tears in your eyes.

"How can you not cry...?" you asked with a nervous laugh, trying to light up the mood

"I'm Gale Weathers, I don't cry. Not in public"

"Of course, why did I even asked?"

You both smiled a little, getting out of the car and inside the house.

You started making diner, telling her some things you learnt while she was gone, trying to give her ideas for a new novel.

"Why don't you tell me about your life? It would make an interesting book. A spicy one for sure"

So she saw the hickeys.

"Mom!"

You blushed hard, embarrassed.

"No you're right, writing about people only attracts psychos. I wouldn't want your girlfriend or you getting hurt"

"Thank you?"

You both laughed and had a good time watching your favorite series while eating, until her phone rung.

"What does he wants? I told him I was off this weekend" she mumbled

"Pick up"

"What?"

"Maybe it's important"

She looked at you for a second, before getting up and taking the call. When she came back, you already knew what she was going to say.

"They learnt I was back here and now they want me to-"

"I know. It's fine, we had a good time, you can go"

"I'm sorry Y/n..."

She hugged you tight.

"You're Gale Weathers, the best reporter. No wonder everyone wants you"

She smiled a little, relieved you weren't mad, and was quick to go.

It always ended up that way with her. But it wasn't her fault. You knew she ment it when she said she was sorry.

You sighed and called your girlfriend.

"Guess who has to work even on her days off?" you said when she picked up

"She's gone already?"

"Yep. That was quicker than I thought... want to come over to keep me company?"

"Is that even a question? I'm on my way, wait for me baby"

You smiled at her words.

"Don't hang up, I want to talk to you on your way here"

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna tell me? Tease me?"

"Maybe..." you said innocently

The landline suddenly started ringing, making you jump.

"Shit"

"What's going on?"

"Landline. Who still uses this?" you mumbled

You walked to the phone and picked up, putting Tara on speaker so you could still hear her.

"Hello?"

"Is this uh... Y/n Riley?"

"Depends. What do you want?"

"You ordered something on our website, it should be there"

"Why do you call me for that?"

"Well... I think we send you the wrong package..."

"Y/n what's going on? Who is it?"

You texted your girlfriend about the situation while talking with the guy.

"I suppose you want me to check?"

"Yep"

"And uh... what did I ordered again? I don't remember"

"I think it was... a painful death."

You hang up immediately and let go of the phone. A voice changer. He was using a fucking voice changer.

"Baby! Is everything okay?"

"Yeah... just a stupid guy using a voice changer for a stupid prank..."

"Are you sure of that?"

The voice came from behind you. You turned around so quickly your neck hurt.

You felt your heart drop in your chest when you saw a tall, dark silhouette looking at you through a Ghostface mask.

"Hello, Y/n"

You were frozen in place, incapable of moving. The Ghostface took a step closer to you, tilting his head slightly, knife in hand.

That's when your legs came back. You ran as quickly as you could, trying to tell Tara on the phone.

"Tara it's Ghostface! Fuck I-"

You couldn't finish your sentence. He grabbed you violently by the waist, making you let go of your phone. It slid on the floor.

He stabbed your abdomen, a hand over your mouth. You let out a muffled scream, and tried to escape his strong grip.

You managed to bit his hand, hard. He kicked you forward, swearing under his breath.

You barely had time to grab a lamp nearby and turn around that he was already on you again, fingers wrapping around your neck, choking you.

You dropped the lamp as he lifted you up before pressing your back against the chimney. Breathing was becoming difficult. To make things better, he sank his blade into you again, twisting it painfully this time. Blood splattered on the floor.

You struggled against him, trying to get his hand off of your neck. But he was stronger than you, you couldn't do anything.

You reached behind you, desperate, when your hands found what you thought was a vase. With all the strength you still had, you slammed it on his head.

His stumbled backward, holding his head, letting you fall to the ground. You gasped for air but didn't waste more time and staggered up.

You tried to reach your phone on the way to the door, but you were pushed to the ground. You started crawling, tears flooding down your cheeks.

"Tara help!" you yelled, voice broken

Ghostface grabbed your hair and tugged your head backward harshly, one of his knees on your back to keep you on the floor.

"No one can save you. You will die alone, just like your father."

He slammed your head against the floor. You let out a cry which only grew bigger when he stabbed you on your side. He did it again. And again. And again. You were coughing blood at this point.

You didn't want to die. You couldn't die. You were screaming for help, crying and bleeding on the floor, Ghostface on top of you. You could still hear Tara's voice on the phone, a few meters away.

He pulled on your hair again, slamming your head on the floor once more. You started to feel dizzy. Everything was blurred around you, your ears were ringing.

So that's the end... you thought as he pulled your head back up.

"Tara..." you let out in a breath

He slammed your head back down again, harder than before.

I love you, was what you wanted to say. But everything turned black before you could open your mouth again.

When she arrived at your house, heart beating faster than ever, hands shaking, she saw him. Tall. Black costume. Bloody knife. He was running away.

Then her eyes fell on your body, lying in a pool of blood in your living room.

"Y/n!"

She ran to you, turning you around so you were on your back. Your face was covered in blood, fresh tears on your cheeks. She looked at you in horror. Her worst nightmare just became real.

Your necklace with her initial, stained with your blood, was hanging lazily around your neck, red from earlier.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks when she tried to take your pulse. She gasped when she felt it. She held your head with one hand, the other taking one of your own.

"Baby please stay with me... I called an ambulance it will be here any minute now..."

She had almost lost her voice from screaming when you were being attacked. Hearing you cry for help and not being able to to anything had killed her.

When the ambulance arrived, you were still unconscious in her arms. They forced her to back up while they were taking care of you. She didn't want to. She needed to be close to you. But they didn't let her.

From where she was, she could hear their conversation. It only made her heart ache.

"We're losing her! Get ready to shock her! 1, 2, 3, go!"

"She's losing too much blood!"

After what felt like an eternity, they put you on a stretcher into an ambulance. Tara made her way to you but was stopped quickly.

"You can't go further miss."

"Is she alive?" she asked, panicked

"She was clinically dead for 3 minutes. But we brought her back. Now if you want her to live have to take her to the hospital. And no, you can't come with us, we need to be by her side. You will see her at the hospital"

They left her here, crying on the sidewalk in front of your house. After a minute, she headed to the hospital, walking as fast as her legs allowed.

Once she was there, she was told she couldn't see you yet. She tried to argue, but that was useless. She "would only have to wait a little" as the lady said.

She took the opportunity to call your mother, your friends, and her sister to tell them everything.

The first to arrive was your mom, as expected. She seemed devastated. She got mad when she learnt she couldn't see you right now and started yelling at the lady before Tara dragged her away.

They had to wait half an hour before someone told them they could see you. You were still asleep, but your life wasn't in danger anymore.

Tara sat next to you and took your hand, stroking it gently, while Gale sat on the other side, watching you with tears in her eyes.

"... Can you watch her for a minute...? I have to tell Sidney..." she asked your girlfriend

"I'll call you if she wakes up"

She thanked her and got out of the room, taking her phone with shaking hands.

You would soon wake up, not believing you were still alive, and burst into tears in your girlfriend's arms only able to think about one thing; you had a killer on the hunt again.

[Next part]

[shadesslut]

hiiii! could i suggest a fic thats kinda been on the top of my head recently?? soft ethan landry originally tried to get close to the group by getting with amber freemans ex whos the adopted daughter of dewey and gale. originally she died alongside her dad, but the doctors brought her back. so now, she lives in constant ptsd from it and has a bad episode after having a nightmare of deweys death, though even though she tries to not bother ethan about her past, hes there then and helps her thru it

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE THIS. I HOPE YOU ENJOY🫶

haunted

Pairing: (Ex-Amber Freeman x Ex-Fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x Ethan Landry)

Content Includes: (Angst, fluff)

Main Masterlist

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Her mouth was stained with a taste of metallic. Her vision was blurred, everything tinted by a bright white light, but she knew what was happening. Her father was dead, staring coldly at her as he laid on the white tiles of the hospital. Was all of this for nothing? All those years of fighting not only for himself, but for his daughter. All those years of winning those battles against Ghostface. All of the sacrifices he gave, it was taken away by a simple kitchen knife. Taken away by her. 

Amber Freeman. The one who finally got Dewey. The one who haunted Y/N’s dreams, and the one who haunted her nightmares. Tonight was a nightmare. 

She knew she was dreaming, she knew it. But the way Amber pulled off her mask as she laid there bloody, it hurt just as much as it did that day. 

“Please, Amber,” she pleaded in pain. Blood spewed out of the freshly cut wound on her chest. “I love you.”

Amber looked coldly down at her, and at that moment, Y/N realized. Realized all of it was fake. All of the words and kisses Amber gave her; none of it was real. She wished she could apologize to her dad, she wished she could tell him how much she loved and appreciated him. She never did that. And now she never could. 

She prepared herself for the knife to sink into her side. She knew the routine by now, it was like clockwork. It would hurt, it would feel real, but every time, Amber would kiss her. And maybe, just maybe, that made up for the pain. 

The knife sunk into her stomach, and she arched up as she screamed in pain. Amber kissed her, just as she anticipated. Her vision started to grow black, like spilled ink staining a painting. Amber was a painting to her. Her beautiful work of art she loved looking at, even if Amber wanted to hurt her. 

Then, she awoke. 

First she shot up, then she breathed heavily. Her breaths were sharp and quick, and her hand went to her chest as she felt it tighten. Ethan stirred as she started to cry. 

His eyes fluttered open as he looked to the source of noise. His eyes widened, and he immediately sat up to wrap his arms around her. 

“Shhh it’s okay, I’m here,” He whispered. 

She turned her head to look at him, and all she focused on were his eyes. Dark, brown like hers. She hated how sometimes she would get so lost in his eyes, she would think of Amber’s eyes. How they darkened as she looked down at her in excitement. 

“It’s just me,” he said. It was just him. There wasn’t any evil in his eyes

She only let out a choked sob, and Ethan moved her head to rest on his chest. He pulled her to curl in his lap, her legs pulled up to her chest as he cradled her. 

“You're okay, I've got you.” 

She steadied her breaths. Don’t think of her, think of him. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. This was the fourth time this week. He shook his head and shushed her. He kissed the crown of her head and started humming her favorite song. The same song Dewey sang to her when she was little. 

“I miss him.” She whispered under her breath. 

“I know.” He whispered back. 

She didn’t know how many more nights of these she could take. She knew Ethan would leave her soon, that he would grow tired of this. 

“I’m sorry for waking you, again.” 

“It’s okay,” He cooed, playing with her hair. “It’s not a bother. I just want you to be okay. I love you.” 

She looked up at him, eyes glossy. She opened her mouth to respond. To tell him she loved him too. 

“You don’t have to say it. I know it’s hard for you.” 

She let her head move against his chest as he breathed. They sat in a blissful silence in each other’s arms. Her nose whistled as she breathed softly, and Ethan smiled down at her. He was the only thing that made her feel happy. He protected her, just like Dewey did. 

“You know,” Ethan started as he wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “The moment Chad pointed you out at that party, I knew I was done for. I knew that you were the one for me, and I didn’t need to look for that perfect girl anymore.”

“Ethan,” she choked out. 

“Let me finish,” he gently interrupted her. “I knew what happened to you last year. Chad told me that he’d kill me if I hurt you, but I knew you could do that yourself. You’re so strong, Y/N. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. You are so much more than what happened to you that night, so much more than her. She wasn’t good enough for you, and even if she was she didn’t deserve you. No one does, because you are perfect. I love you. I love you with everything I have.”

She grabbed his hand, and she placed it over her heart. I love you too. 

He kissed her. He kissed her so many times that she forgot about her dream. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel bad about her father’s death. 

That night, Amber wasn’t in her dreams. Only Ethan.

[middlingmay]

Single dad Gale x Baseball coach Bucky AU Part 3 (Finale!)

Read Part 1 here.

Read part 2 here

Amie is convinced her dad is starting to get suspicious.

She saw the way he stared at Coach Egan when he picked her up from school. He barely blinked. He was definitely getting suspicious.

The Coach Egan tells the team their first game is in four weeks, and a very big clock in Amie's head starts to tick.

Because she's excited about the game and she wants her dad there. But when he finds out she lied, she's positive it's going to be one of the rare times he absolutely loses it.

Then, her next day in school Coach Egan wants to see her after practice. And he doesn't tip toe around the subject.

"Why does your dad think I'm your track coach, Amie?"

A habit she'd inherited from her dad, Amie flushes read like she's just been caught in the cookie jar. She tries to stammer and bluster her way out of it, but there's no mirth on coach's face and she stops talking completely.

"Does he even know you're on the team?"

She shakes her head.

"He should. He'd be proud of you."

She doesn't mean to scoff but it comes out anyway. Her dad will be too busy being furious to be proud of anything.

And that's when Coach Egan upends her whole twelve-year-old world.

"You tell about the team, and have him sign a new slip, which he'll hand in to me himself by next practice. Or I'm sorry Amie, but you can't be on the team. And I'll have tell your dad about this myself."

She doesn't like this stern side of the coach and runs out of his office upset and embarrassed.

At home, she storms right up to her room, ignoring her dad calling after her.

After a good scream into her pillow, she writes I Hate Coach Egan several times over in her journal. But then she feels terrible and rips the page out and stuffs it in the trash.

She resolves that she's not going to next practice, or any practice ever again, so there's nothing to tell her dad. It breaks her heart a little (a lot), but she'd rather that than face the music.

It takes her dad a few days to clock on. But he does notice her despondency. When he asks about track which usually always has her so chipper, she tells him she was cut from the team.

Gale is incensed and threatens to march down to the school and give them a piece of his mind. But Amie begs him not to and he reluctantly agrees.

Until he finds a crumpled up bit of paper that says I Hate Coach Egan on it over and over again.

He takes a day off work - a day he knows Amie never used to have practice and schedules a meeting with Egan for 11am when she's still in class.

He storms into that office and Egan goes from pleased to alarmed in half a second.

"What the hell did you say to my girl?!"

Egan looks a little miffed himself at that and starts to get out of his chair, but Gale slams the bit of paper down on his desk.

Egan looks at it and frowns, and dares to look hurt, even. "Jeez, Cleven. A little harsh."

And that unleashes all of Gale's fury. He lets all his frustrations out and berates Egan for getting kids' hopes up and claiming to build their confidence, only to tear them all down. Only caring about winning and not about the kids. He calls Egan callous and cruel and grits his teeth and clenches his fists to stop himself from reaching across the table and strangling this man.

When he says Amie refuses to so much as even talk about track anymore, Egan finally cuts him off.

"That's what she told you? Track? Do I look like a track coach to you? Buck, I only run if there's a base at the other end or there's a dog on my ass."

Gale does not understand a single word he's saying. "What?"

"Bad weekend in Germany." The Egan calls in the Assistant Coach and tells him to fetch Amelie Cleven, pronto. "I think you're better hearing this from her," he says.

He invites Gale to sit but he doesn't. He just stares at Egan, half scowling, half bewildered until finally a very sorry looking Amie is ushered into the office.

She refuses to look at her dad or Coach Egan, but the latter is well versed in sullen pre-teens by now. He asks Amie if there's anything she wants to tell her dad. Gale wants to tell him to back off, but he sees how guilty Amie looks and he doesn't know which way is up.

"What is going on, Amie?"

And it all comes spilling out. Amie loving baseball and knowing he wouldn't approve of her trying out, never mind joining the team. About forging his signature on the permission slip for try outs (John shows him the form) and lying to him for weeks.

Gale hasn't ever felt such a mix of sadness, disappointment, anger and guilt. But it's all aimed at himself. He feels like a failure, that his daughter didn't feel like she could come to him. And that she was probably right - he wouldn't have reacted well.

"You shouldn't have lied to me, Amie," is all he can say.

Amie's eyes fill with tears and Gale thinks his might, too, and Egan gently breaks in.

"Mr Cleven. I know it's not my business. But Amie is good. Really good. And the team love her. you said yourself that she enjoys it and it's helped her build confidence. is it really so bad if she plays?"

Gale's slumped on the chair in front of Egan's desk and Amie sidles up to him and plays with the hem of his sleeve like she's not sure she's allowed.

"I'm sorry I lied. But I really want to play, daddy."

An oh, she hasn't called him daddy in years. She knows, it, he knows it, and judging by the smirk Egan is trying to hide, he goddamn knows it to. But she's pulling out the big guns.

Gale can't help himself. Never can when it comes to his daughter. He folds her into his arms and holds her tight. He murmurs his own apologies into Amie's ear and where she can't see, he waves for Egan to get him a fresh slip and a pen.

Gale gently pushes Amie back and holds up the other piece of paper that brought him here. "I think you have something to say to Coach Egan, don't you?"

Flush and wide-eyed, Amie rushes out, "I don't hate you! Was...just mad when you said I couldn't play 'less my dad said so."

Egan accepts her apology gracefully and tells her he expects her at the next practice, and she can stay late to help him clean up to make up for everything - and Gale agrees.

Equal amounts relieved and humbled, Gale ushers Amie back to class, and mumbles a very hasty goodbye to Egan. Without looking him in the eye, he beats a hasty retreat

He's outside and halfway back to his car when he hears, "Mr Cleven!" behind him.

Egan jogs after him and stops a foot away, hands on his hips.

"I can't keep calling you Mr Cleven. What's your name?"

"Gale."

Without missing a beat, Egan says, "Nice to meet you, Buck. Name's John."

And then Gale is trying to stumble out an apology. "Look. I'm sorry I -"

"Can I take you out?"

Gale feels thoroughly derailed. "I..is that - is that allowed?"

John says "Yes!" very quickly and is almost shy as he rubs the back of his neck. "Uh, I mean, I can check. Again."

Despite himself, Gale chuckles. He feels a thrill of excitement and nerves. He's not dated anyone since Marge. But John is beautiful and charming and apparently very forgiving.

So he bites his lip and cocks his head and says, "Sure. Let's paint the town red."

-

Fin.

[luminouslywriting]

How do you think the guys would react to you telling him that you’re ready to try for a baby? Like back then people got straight to it after marriage but maybe you decided to wait a bit for him to adjust back but now you feel ready and him trying to decide if he should be excited about fatherhood or about fucking you 24/7

I'm assuming this is for the Masters of the Air men?? If not, let me know and I'd be happy to do a BoB version! Reminder that my requests are open for MOTA, The Pacific, and BoB! Also someone asked for headcanons on how Rosie would react to finding out you’re pregnant, so this is also fulfilling that request!!

Cut for length, more under the cut, spice obviously included:

Bucky Egan:

-Listen, he's the type of man who if you say you're ready to try for a baby, it does not matter what he has going on. Oh he's about to head to a work meeting? He's calling in sick. Oh dinner is cooking? Not anymore. He will drop everything to literally carry you to the nearest surface possible.

-Is more excited about the 24/7 sex than the actual fatherhood aspect of things (at least for now). He just won't know what to make of fatherhood until it's there lol.

-Keeps better track of your ovulation cycle than you do and has a higher sex drive, so he's absolutely the type of man who makes you lay on the bed with your knees up for a bit after sex because he wants to be sure that things stick.

-Probably a master at seduction at random times of day or the week to try and ensure that you get pregnant as quickly as possible. He's ready and prepared.

-Also be ready for sure much praise kink and to be breeded because these are his kinks and he's ready. Going back to the somnophilia thing I mentioned back in the domestic headcanons, he's using that to help things along as much as possible haha.

Gale Cleven:

-Was comfortable waiting to have kids until you were ready and so when he tells you, he's happy about it and nervous. I've expanded on that in the Gale Cleven Pregnancy Headcanons, but as far as the trying goes, he's going to give it his best efforts.

-He's reading up on all of these pregnancy books to try and figure out the best tricks for falling pregnant in order to help you.

-Insatiable with the 24/7 sex and is even hornier than normal; baby Cleven was absolutely conceived on the kitchen table and you can't convince me otherwise

-Gale is a sensible man who is efficient when trying to achieve something so he'll try to orgasm as many times as possible and finish inside of you as much as he can.

-Gets really turned on thinking about you being pregnant and this spurs him into some heavy praise and encouragement to keep efforts up and positive.

Robert Rosenthal:

-He's thrilled, lightly put. He's ready for kids literally whenever you give the word—and if you just so happen to tell him right before a dinner with his parents, well a quickie was definitely on the table.

-And then there was the public teasing during the dinner, and then he absolutely ravished you for hours and hours afterwards because he wants that to be your reality ASAP.

-Is both thrilled about being a dad and the 24/7 sex. He definitely makes it into a sort of game with the two of you, a sort of cat and mouse chase so that things are kept surprising and fun rather than just trying to get pregnant.

-Definitely buys you all sorts of maternity stuff before you're even pregnant because he is so in love with the thought of you being pregnant haha.

-Also the type of man to watch your diet really closely and ensures that you're taking prenatal vitamins and all of that.

John Brady:

-It's an accident, I'm sorry. This man probably figures out that you're pregnant before you even figure it out—the girl math is mathing and he's seeing all sorts of pregnancy symptoms

-And then that causes more of a 24/7 pregnancy kink for him where he just constantly wants to have sex with you or keep filling you up because you take him so well.

-He's really excited about being a dad and he's even more body positive about you being pregnant

-The car sex in the Brady Wagon DOES NOT continue, because he's too worried about making sure that positioning is comfortable and you're alright, but that's cool, that's fine—there's just definitely more sex ONCE you're pregnant than there was before lol

-Absolutely the type to skip out on a public function or leave early because he wants to take care of you and he's gotta keep his baby's mama happy and satisfied.

[endlessnightlock]

If you feel inspired, #10 “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” from the random prompt list <3

Her dad's guitar takes up a fair amount of space in Katniss's lap, boxy but lightweight, with room to hide behind when her nerves get the better of her. Slightly battered and smooth from use, the balsawood is cool to the touch when she picks its strings and makes it sing. But she's getting antsy, so she puts her guitar in its case and wanders over to the corner of the stage. She's careful to stay hidden behind the heavy velvet curtain. Ms. Trinkett will give her the devil if she catches her peeking out.

People are trickling into the high school auditorium: classmates, a few teachers, and a smattering of parents. She sees Gale and the rest of her cousins file into a row near the stage with Hazelle. Prim and her parents have been here for a while. Katniss hopes the auditorium won't be too full when Principal Flickerman starts the show. She's not a confident performer. Singing and playing are more of a compulsion for her, a hunger she has to feed rather than a bid for attention.

When the clock ticks down to zero (performance time! Ms. Trinkett brightly states), she's waiting for her turn to go on stage with the guitar strapped to her chest.

Madge starts the show with a classical piece. The school's piano is out of tune, but her best friend makes it work. Katniss can't keep the smile off her face. Madge is the shyest person she knows, and she's proud of her friend for getting over that fear to play tonight.

"Wow. Did you know she could play like that?" Peeta Mellark asks. Somehow he'd wandered away from the group he was standing with and up to her side.

Katniss gives a sharp nod, surprised he said anything at all. Not that he doesn't talk. He's popular, friendly, and always hanging out with one group or another. He just never talks to her.

"I mean, of course you do," he laughs at himself. "Is that why you're such good friends? Shared talent?"

She shrugs. "Maybe." She's never considered that before, but he might be on to something.

"Nothing like twenty questions before we go onstage. I'm just a little nervous. Talk too much when that happens."

"No, it's okay," she says. A strain of nervousness makes her insides tight, too. She decides she likes talking to Peeta. He says what he's thinking, but in a more thought-out way than she can pull off. Words stumble across her lips, leaving her embarrassed more often than not. "You can talk. It's not too much."

Peeta grins at her.

"Um, what are you doing?" she asks. "Not like, life in general. For the show."

"Comedy. Going to try getting laughs out of my dumb jokes."

"Oh. I didn't know you did that."

"Me neither, until two weeks ago when they posted the sign-up sheet. I had to find a way to get into the show."

"I was dragged here kicking and screaming. That's brave of you to try something new."

"Or stupid. We'll see." Peeta says. "I know you have a beautiful singing voice, but I didn't know you played."

"My dad taught me. This is his, actually." She pats the fretboard, keeping her eyes on the strings, feeling shy at the compliment. "I didn't know you'd heard me sing."

"I think it was your first public appearance. Kindergarten. Mrs. Paylor asked if anyone knew The Valley Song. Your hand shot up, and when you stood on your chair and sang, my fragile 5-year-old heart was lost," he says.

"That didn't happen," she says.

"Swear to god. You had on a red checkered dress, and your hair was in two long braids. I like your hair tonight, too. It's really pretty."

"Thank you," she murmurs. Katniss pats the braided, pinned updo her mother did for her. She likes the old-fashioned style because it feels in keeping with her mountain heritage.

Vague memories of that red and white dress invade her mind. She does her hair in a single braid most days because it's long and gets everywhere if she doesn't, and she did wear it in two as a child.

"You have an incredible memory."

Peeta shrugs, smiling down at the tips of his shoes.

"Peeta, you're next dear," Ms. Tinkett says, bringing Katniss back to herself. Madge's song was over three students ago in the rotation, and she hadn't even noticed.

"Wish me luck?" Peeta asks her quietly.

"Good luck," she says, kind of dumbfounded by their conversation. She'd caught Peeta looking her way when he thought she didn't notice but never considered what that meant.

She couldn't hear most of Peeta's stand-up routine, but she caught amused laughter from the audience. When it was her turn to go onstage and stand in the spotlight, their conversation was still in the forefront of her mind, and she found her fingers moving over the strings, playing The Valley Song and remembering the little curly blond headed boy from kindergarten.

[brotherwtf]

Having thoughts about age gap au Gale hiding an injury/illness from John because his dad always made him feel like a burden and that hurt was deserved 💔 and John losing his mind but trying not to show it as he takes care of Gale, or maybe he doesn't get to because Gale has to go to the hospital and John gets the call while he's at work </3 these boys can fit so much whump and trauma and comfort

ughhhh yes putting Gale into the whump blender again :(( I want to traumatize this boy forever that is my lot in life

----

Gale knew to never show weakness. It's what he was taught from an incredibly young age, weakness meant you could be picked from the crowd, weakness meant that you weren't good enough.

There was a lot of things Gale's father viewed as a weakness. Being sick, scraping your knees, getting hurt and you better not think about crying because at that point you'd be better off dead anyway. Gale learned to hide it whenever he got sick, to lick his wounds in solitude, and to never, ever, ask for help or pity.

So Gale didn't even flinch when he woke up with a 102 degree fever. He's lived through worse, no need to be a baby about it. He got ready for his classes like normal, kissed John goodbye, and waved off his looks of concern when John pressed his cheek to Gales forehead, fretted about him running hot. Gale was fine, he didn't need John's help.

He was able to get through his first class without many problems, he felt waves of nausea periodically and some bouts of lightheadedness, but Gale wasn't going to let that take him down. His second class was a little worse, his hands quivered when he tried to write and the nausea stayed, no longer ebbing in and out in waves.

Gale passes out around lunchtime, Marge by his side and all he can really hear is her anxious fretting, calls of his name and yelling at someone to phone the hospital. He remembers weakly trying to push her off, says he's fine, but Marge tells him to shut the fuck up, he's going to the damn hospital. He doesn't remember much after that.

He wakes up to the soft beeping of a heart monitor, the bright fluorescent lights of a hospital room and he groans. Gale shouldn't be here. He's taking up the space that someone else needs more, he doesn't deserve the time or energy that people are wasting on him. He doesn't get to dwell too much before John is quickly at his side, taking his hand and pushing his hair back. His lips press into a thin line, palm pressing against the sure heat that Gale gives off.

"Baby? Are you okay? God Marge told me you collapsed and I left work immediately. Fuck Gale you should have told me you weren't feeling good," John frets and Gale just shakes his head weakly.

"I'm fine, John. I'm good, you didn't need to leave work just for me. When are they gonna let me out?" Gale asks and his voice is hoarse.

John's brow furrows and his expression grows stern.

"Gale, no, you're not fine. You have a 103 degree fever and you're shaking like a damn leaf. I'm not gonna stay at work when I know you're sick," John says and Gale can feel another wave of nausea that isn't caused by the sickness.

Gale turns his head against the pillow, avoiding John's gaze and he can feel his eyes well up. No, no, he can't cry. Crying is the worst thing he could do right now. But the tears come anyway, streaming down his face steadily and John rushes down to wipe them away, fretting all over again.

"Hey, hey, baby, Gale, come on don't cry. It's okay, I'm not mad I swear. You should have just told me you weren't feeling well, I could have helped, then maybe you wouldn't have fainted," John says, a firm thumb brushing away the tears that stream down his face and Gale shakes his head.

"Don't... don't wanna be a burden," Gale manages to choke and John shushes him and forces Gale's head to turn towards him.

John's face is both soft and firm, his eyes filled with emotion that's both frustration and affection. Gale hates how worried he looks, just because Gale's a little bit sick.

"Gale, you will never be a burden to me. I promised your mama I would protect you, and I promised you the same. I love you, Gale, and if it takes me dropping everything for you to understand how much you mean to me, I'll do it in a heartbeat," John says, cupping Gale's face with both of his hands.

Gale squeezes his eyes shut because he knows if he looks at John anymore he'll just ugly sob, grabs John's wrist and nuzzles his soaked face into it, gasps and chokes as he continues to sob, John shushing him and bringing him in closer until their foreheads are pressed together, breathing heavily against his face.

"I swear, Gale, you are not a burden. You are my everything, doll, my everything," John whispers, and Gale can only nod, finally allowing himself to melt into the sheets, letting himself feel fatigued and exhausted and sick because John is letting him, allowing him to let go.