#only five months after the gale one…

[skyphloxx]

this is what gales bunk wall would’ve looked like if he could’ve gotten away with it

[eir-trixa]

WOTTG SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT

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Can you believe Rick is validating me in my Percy-is-the-most-empathic-character take? I have legal basis but boi does it feel nice to have canon confirmation.

Second that book was short af I got the gist of it all while reading for like an hour.

Third, we addressed everyone else’s trauma. Percy’s still the group therapist LMAO 😭😭😭

Fourth, my son is such a good kid yall, this is why I lose five years of my life when someone insults or when he insults himself jfc my child.

Im honestly still processing and I have to reread the ending. Did it address Percy’s issues? Im going to go with “a bit” and call it a night. I mean, I guess it did? Percy got to unload and help Gale and Hecuba. We got an insight to how he’s managing to stay up and fighting and good despite all the shit he’s put into. Honestly the fact that he saw the humanity in Gale and Hecuba, that he saw their pain and grief and thats what made them trust him, that is so good. And the way he related to them. Goodness. And it highlights again how good a person he is, how much he feels and cares. I mean, he cried cause he had to send Mrs O Leary away, I cant with this kid-

I supposed what Im left unsatisfied with is how he still perceives himself as dumb? Baby, you survived San Fran for two months as a homeless kid without memories and pursued by different monsters who cant die. Youre the furthest thing from dumb.

He cant see this of course and while it was slightly addressed(?) by Annabeth telling him to his face that she doesnt give him enough credit, that he’s pretty smart, I dont think thats enough for addressing this particular issue. There was a time in the middle that he almost snapped because he thought Annabeth probably thinks him too dumb to know what to do next. Which I understand is frustrating to him. But to be fair this book made him look at Annabeth for a solution a lot. Theres also little comments about how when he cant think of anything - which is every 60 seconds apparently according to him- he looks at Annabeth. This doesnt help the co dependent allegations LMAO. Idk, I will die on the Hill that Percy is one of the smartest people in the series, not just emotionally but also in strategy. And theres, of course, nothing wrong with looking at the genius strategist for answers. Ive mixed feelings because definitely this is more of a Percy-insecurity issue than an Annabeth-being-bossy issue. But okay. One more book, heres to hoping we get more heart to heart on that front because Im 999998% sure she doesnt mean to make him feel stupid, Percy’s just got a lot of demons to fight but this in particular they need to figure out together. Still, its obvious how much they care for each other still. If only Dave and Hana did not piss me off at the start Id probably be a little more lenient about this.

Annabeth’s fatal flaw also makes a comeback, we love to see it.

And Sally Estelle Jackson. Now we have to find out wth is Percy’s middle name cause if Sally has one odds are she gave her son too. Trust me. Im Filipino. Iykyk.

Lastly, while I will forever and ever and ever support the trio from pjotv (theyre perfect and have done nothing wrong ever) I can see Rick’s injecting their personalities into the books. Im not sure if he does this on purpose or just subconsciously LMAO. Some of Grover’s dialogue is definitely inspired by Aryan. Percy being Lanky? Walker through and through, especially with his growth spurt lmao, and Annabeth’s confidence? All Leah. I can see what Rick’s trying to do. Ive no opinion on this, just pointing it out. I do love love love the live action. Just. I can see you Rick. You aint slick.

So there. I probably would need to reread the book properly at some point.

[alienoresimagines]

can you write [knuckles] for a kiss on the hand? thank you!!

I'm sorry this took so long, I hope you're still around 🥺❤️But here it is, 1.8k long despite my best efforts at keeping it under 1k 😅 I hope you'll like it 💕 Also on AO3 My other Clegan fics here

Never Coming Down (With Your Hand In Mine) | Buck x Bucky

The radio they managed to find doesn't tell them much of interest regarding the Allies’ troops and their progress, but writing any tidbits of information down gives John something to focus on that isn't this camp, this life that isn't really a life but that isn't death either, just some in-between that John is stuck in, unable to do anything or be useful. One foot in the grave and every day wishing a bit more it was both. In the darkest corner of his mind, he thinks that perhaps his death would save Gale from tiring himself to the bone trying to keep John tethered to Earth. Maybe, at least then, he could be useful to Buck. 

The thought is squashed away almost immediately, guilt crawling in his throat. Those few days after Gale had gone down over Bremen were the worst in John's life. The certainty that he was now a piece of something that would never be whole again, with no home to fight for anymore, had been the most excruciating pain John's ever known. Over the course of just a few months, he’s lost more friends than he can count, each loss cutting deeper. But losing Gale hadn’t just felt like losing a limb. From the moment Red’s distorted voice reached his ears through the phone - “He went down swinging, John” - he was an empty shell walking, his chest hollow with no heart, some vital part of him missing. No matter how miserable this camp makes him, wishing such agony on his best friend, his better half is unbearable. If only to spare Gale any additional pain, he’ll plant both feet in the mud until they stop trying to get him closer to that barbed-wire fence. 

Yet, despite desperately wishing Gale out of harm’s way, his being chained to the dirt with him is John’s saving grace. In the darkness of the Stalag, Gale shines brighter than the North Star, and John fights every day to keep himself from the fog in his head to grasp at this soft golden light. It's easier at night, the weight of Gale in his arms a grounding presence, the distinct smell of him feeling more and more like home, but John is starting to make it through some days always there too. Listening to the radio also helps, especially when most days, it's just him and Gale at the table, the others keeping watch on the guards from outside. Soon it'll be too cold for them to do so without it being suspicious or dangerous for their own health, but for now, John is glad he gets to spend more time alone with Gale. His ma always said he fights tooth and nail for those he loves, and right now, he's desperately grasping at the fading rays of sunlight, selfishness be damned.

Today, the BBC doesn't have any interesting news to keep hold of his attention for long, so he mostly scribbles down what he hears without making sense of the words strung together, too focused on the solid presence of Buck on his right. With both of them being right-handed, it would have been too much of a hindrance to be pressed close enough for their shoulders to touch, but their knees knock together every so often, like silent banter. It sends sparks of warmth down John's spine, the focused tilt of Gale's mouth only amusing him in his boredom. In the past five minutes, he's sent his knee against Gale's in soft presses, alternating between lingering and fleeting touches until the word B-U-C-K is successfully floating in the air, though the man himself seems entirely unaware of it, tongue darting between his lips in concentration. Bucky's debating coding G-A-L-E, just to see if the rare occurrence of his given name will snap the other out of his focus when said man grunts softly as he scribbles, pencil scratching the paper as it nears the edge. John mindlessly hands him a blank piece of paper, more than attuned to all the different ways the other has to ask for something without voicing his desires, eyes trained on the stray blond curl falling on Buck’s forehead. Without lifting his eyes from his piece of paper, Gale extends a pale hand to take John's offering, the contact of their fingers sending a jolt through John's blood. He lets out a yelp, slightly jerking back before diving in to hold Gale's hands between his own, Buck's sound of confusion and protest as his pencil is thrown out of his hold swallowed by John's cursing.

"Jesus, Buck, your hands are fuckin' freezing." John doesn't feel particularly warm but the difference in temperature between both their hands is such that he half-expects the air to start hissing. How Gale can still move his fingers is a mystery to him, and his gut goes tight with worry. Trying to rub warmth back into those hands, John brings them to his face so that he can blow hot air on long fingers. He's deeply aware of how intimate the gesture is, especially in a place like this, and he can feel heat rising to his cheeks but he focuses stubbornly on his task. Keeping his eyes on those hands he’s never held so close to his face is a necessary precaution to ensure he doesn’t dismiss any inch of skin in his mission to warm them enough that he doesn’t have to worry about them falling off, and it has the additional effect of allowing John to study them without fearing being caught.

Gale's hands truly are beautiful. They've always been, and in the years he's known the other, John has spent more time than he probably should have admiring them. How they wrap in a strong grip around the yolk to wield a metal fortress effortlessly, how long, slender fingers bring a toothpick to the plump curve of his lips. Calluses on fingers and rough palms that were still so gentle and kind when they tended to John's wounds just a few months ago. Today, they look frail and dry, the knuckles angry red and cracked from the cold. It hurts to even look at them, those hands that were more suited for piano and gently guiding horses across fields now cracked by misery and cold. Acting on an urge, he presses a kiss to the knuckles of both, a silent promise to warm them and get them better, to get them far from weapons and barbed fences, and back to horses and piano and books.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Gale blinking owlishly at him, perfectly still. Between them, the radio crackles, words floating in the air but never making it to any paper. After a few more seconds, Gale's voice rises too, soft despite his usual deep southern drawl.

"I need my hands back, Bucky." John frowns, still rubbing his palms over Gale's hands to warm them. Admittedly, he knows Gale can't write with his foot, even though imagining it almost makes him smile, but really, nothing the BBC is broadcasting right now is worth the risk of Gale losing his hands to the cold. Unconsciously, he brings Gale's hands closer to his face, just shy of nuzzling them with the tip of his nose, already thinking of all the ways he could get them warm. It would be, like many things, easier at night. With the cold, everybody has taken up to sharing a bunk and no one would notice if Gale's hands were pressed to his skin, under his shirt. Even though the thought of those icicles against more sensitive skin than his palms isn't exactly a pleasant one, he'd do it in a heartbeat. For the day, when it would be too risky for John to hold Gale's hands in his pockets, maybe he could find him some gloves, at least make mittens out of socks, to soften the blow of the cold and the sting of the wind. 

"Bucky ?" Eyes snapping to Gale's, he finds him with his head slightly tilted to the side, cheeks red from the cold. It's then he realizes he still has both of Gale's hands in his. The other looks at him and then back at his paper before raising his brows in a silent question, making John huff. Reluctantly, he lets go of Gale's right hand but immediately cradles his left hand on his lap. He hopes Gale will be satisfied with this, but the other keeps looking at him insistently, a fond glint in his eyes but brows slightly furrowed, as if his left hand being held in both of John's is a math problem he can’t solve.

At the silent question, he rolls his eyes and makes a show of putting his own left hand on the upper part of Gale's paper, making sure it doesn't move from its spot on the table. The paper is smooth against his fingertips, contrasting with the rough feel of the wooden table that has given them more than their fair share of splinters on his palm. He misses the feeling of Gale’s hands in his. For a moment, he had felt whole in a way he usually only feels at night. Gale's hand is starting to get warmer in his, the skin rough from the cold, but John has never held something as delicate and precious as it, save for Gale himself.

Resting their joined hands on his lap, he intertwines their fingers and fights down the blush he can feel creeping up his neck, eyes resolutely on the paper in front of the other. There’s no reason to feel nervous, they’ve slept in each other’s arms so often by now it really shouldn’t matter, but something about the fact that this isn’t about survival forces him to take a deep breath before moving. With one slide over the bench, his side is pressed to Gale’s, shoulders rising and falling in tandem. He’s glad to notice that Buck isn’t as cold as his hands, warmth seeping from his side to John’s as rapidly as the tension leaves the set of his shoulders until he’s pressing back into John.

They'll work slower like that but Gale doesn't protest nor take his hand away, only resettling slightly so his thigh also rests against John’s. Tentatively, he risks a glance at Gale and finds him looking down at the table, face still red but from something John has an inkling isn't the cold anymore, biting his bottom lip softly but mouth nonetheless quirked upwards. It takes every ounce of strength and self-restraint in him not to kiss him, to smother the affection blooming in his chest. Instead, after a bit of silence in which he feels he might suffocate on pent-up love, John squeezes Gale's hand in his and the other seems to focus back on his task, startled. Clearing his throat, Gale starts scribbling again, pointedly avoiding looking to his left, but John doesn't mind, a smile spreading his cracked lips, fondness written plain on his face as he doesn’t look away for a second.

On his lap, Gale squeezes his hand back.

[thesweetnessofspring]

This year, I've been working on an Everlark fanfiction project called The Huntress and the Beast. This is an in-Panem AU where Prim was never reaped and Peeta became the sole victor of the 74th Games, earning the nickname "the Beast." Ostracized by society after a horrifying incident at the end of the war solidified his nickname, Peeta retreats to live on the mountainside alone. Years later, Katniss takes a position to live with Peeta and eat dinner with him each night for one year, partly to make up for the bread that saved her family and partly to escape Gale's marriage proposal. Each chapter is one month of this year, as Everlark grow together and build a home.

Or, an Everlark "Beauty and the Beast" retelling.

Leading up to the release of the first chapter, I'm going to be posting a snippet each Wednesday, one for each month of the year. Today is the first, from Chapter One: The New Year which will be out January 1, 2025.

Read the snippet below:

New trees line the walkway, still held up by stakes and twine. I can’t make out what they’re going to be when they get older with only the skinny trunks and branches balancing lines of snow. Up the pathway lies the cabin. It’s a far cry from the luxury of the Victors Village even just from the outside. There’s a porch facing west toward District 12 and a blue door the color of a starling egg against the pine boards. It’s covered in fresh snow, though as we climb higher I can see tracks leading away from it. Tracks that must belong to my new employer. At the porch, we unstrap the snowshoes and then knock on the blue door. No one answers and I think about the tracks leading away from the cabin. Peeta had no way to know we’d be showing up today. “Thom?” a man’s voice says behind us. I startle but compose myself before turning around and facing the Beast. While Peeta had never been anything remarkable in terms of his height when we were in school together, he clearly grew since then. He must be nearly a foot taller than me now and still strong and stocky. His hair has grown down to his shoulders, waves framing what has changed the most—his face. Where other men had beards and five o’clock shadows, Peeta has pink and red scars, twisting like branches of a tree across his neck, jaw, and cheeks. I try not to stare at the scars and meet his blue eyes instead. “I found you a dinner companion,” Thom says proudly. “Do you know Katniss Everdeen?” “Not well,” Peeta says and a deep feeling of shame floods me. I don’t know why. Maybe because I should have thanked him for the bread long ago, before his Games. That we should know each other better, but the fact we don’t is my fault. 

Look out for The Huntress and the Beast on January 1, 2025.

[bcolfanfic]

¹⁰⁾ a dingy truck stop after ten hours on the road

bucky x buck x josie road trip vibes

(-: had fun with this

/ / /

"Papa," Josie said, pushing her foot against the back of the passenger seat where John was sat. Gale looked in the rearview mirror, offering a gentle chiding for kicking the seat- his husband tilting his head back to look at her.

"Hm baby?"

"Why aren’t we goin’ to Wis-con-sin in an airplane?"

John hoped she never grew out of the way she sounded out long words. And shared her current sentiment.

He laughed lightly to himself, reaching across the console to massage the back of Gale’s neck. "That's a question for daddy to answer I think,"

"Because daddy is trying to save us some money."

John hummed- half because he found Gale’s playful indignant tone with him endearing, and half because he knew the real reason.

“She had a hard time on the plane last time, don’t wanna put her through that again.” He’d said across the kitchen table from him when they sat down to hash everything out.

And it wasn’t an off base assertion- their trip to New York six months ago had been somewhat of a disaster in regards to the travel aspect. He wasn’t exactly itching to relive it either- and dreaded seeing his daughter upset. But there was a flip side.

“So next time we go out east we’re gonna drive for two days?” John asked softly as he leaned back in his chair. “Gotta push her a little Gale, it’ll get better the more she does it.”

Gale chewed on his lip, digging the ball of his foot into the kitchen floor. “Only one day of drivin’ to get to Wisconsin.” He said after a minute, looking at something on his laptop. “And it’d be cheaper than three plane tickets.”

So John let him have this, under the agreement that he’d be quite a bit more hard pressed to road trip to New York.

Josie tossed the topic as quickly as she’d raised it, leaning forward to get as close to them as she could from her seat.

"Didja know I'm gonna be six soon?"

"I sure did,” Gale said, tapping his fingers on that steering wheel. “You makin' any big plans?"

"Mhm.” She replied, dropping back against her seat to look out the window. “Gonna go to coll-ege."

John didn’t know if he liked the sound of that so soon, and saw what looked like the same thought cross over Gale’s face. He chuckled, lifting his eyes towards her in the mirror.

"Already? What are you gonna study peanut?"

"Ummmm," Josie started, tilting her head. "Horses, and and rabbits, and birds,"

"You know Uncle Rosie knows a lot about birds, you should talk to him about that." John said, glancing back towards Gale- concerned when he noticed that he seemed deflated.

By the end of the hour the five-year-old had chatterboxed herself right to sleep, John reaching over to give Gale's thigh a little squeeze.

"You okay? We can switch off at the next rest stop,"

Gale didn’t say anything for a minute, taking a little breath in like he always did when he was trying not to cry.

"She's gonna go to college someday, gonna leave," He said, voice wobbly.

John moved his hand back to the nape of his neck, rubbing his thumb there in a circle.

”Well she's not goin' when she's six at least." He said lightly, his own emotions about the reality of what awaited them in about twelve years starting to coil in his throat.

Gale went quiet again, for so long that John moved his hand to reach forward and turn the radio back on.

Until Gale broke the silence.

"I want another one."

John stopped mid-motion, his eyes widening as he glanced at the small blue screen of the radio display. He leaned back slowly in his seat, feeling his husband's eyes on him.

"You do?"

Gale’s nod in affirmation answered that.

It wasn’t something John was opposed to- he’d had his own moments of thinking about it, and almost bringing it up to Gale himself.

There was just a piece to it all that he felt less certain about.

"You thinkin’ of doing it the same way as last time, or,” He started, and the way Gale’s eyes seemed to focus on the road ahead gave him a feeling as to where his answer was headed.

“I- y’ know, maybe I just,” He started. “We missed so much.”

And there it was- the same stipulation that kept John up at night if he let him.

On the one hand, embarrassingly, the thought of an infant- of being responsible for someone from scratch like that, terrified him.

But on the other, every little thing he realized they missed out on with Josie made his heart ache. Having about seven photos from the first four years of their daughter’s life just wasn’t how it was supposed to be- he thought on occasion.

Before he could find the words to respond to Gale they were pulling into a rest stop- and suddenly feeling suffocated in the car, John couldn't get out fast enough.

Opening the back door, he gently shook Josie's foot to rouse her from sleep. She groaned when she realized she was being woken up, moving away from him with a huff.

"I know sweetheart," He said softly, undoing her seatbelt and helping her down. "Go can right back to sleep in a minute."

The rest stop was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the fluorescents that were on their last leg overhead. When Josie had washed her hands and they were about to head back out, she stopped- sleepy head drooping against the back of John's legs.

Obliging to her wordless ask- he scooped her up, pausing for a moment to brush the hair out of her face.

He ran the back of his hand along her cheek, it hitting him suddenly that she looked closer to her sixth birthday than she had before. Looked less like the little baby faced four-year-old that became his daughter overnight- and more like a big kid in a way that made a lump form in his throat.

When he made it back to the car with her Gale wasn’t in the driver's seat anymore. He was standing outside it, phone to his face- looking pale.

John got Josie back into her car seat and shut the door before circling back around the front of the car to him.

"Thank you Natalie- okay, John's here, I'm gonna call you back."

Natalie, John thought, and froze. The only Natalie they knew was their social worker from Josie's adoption.

"Why's Natalie calling?" He blurted out the second Gale hung up.

Dragging a hand over his face and pushing it through his hair, Gale tried to steady his breath. But his bottom lip trembled, John feeling more nauseas with every second that it took him to start talking.

When he finally did talk, the words that left his mouth made him sick all the same.

"Josie's mom had another baby- another one she can't keep."

"What?"

The utterance flew out of his mouth before he could form a more coherent response, and he felt his own eyes widen.

They'd never had any contact with the woman since her rights had been terminated by the time they were in Josie's life. The last they'd been told, over a year ago now, was that she was facing child neglect charges.

Despite his efforts to focus, he struggled to fully comprehend Gale's words as he continued to talk.

"Natalie said she called us first because we have Josie. The baby came early, he’s got- she said he’s stable now but-”

"We're turnin' around, right?"John interjected, feeling like it wasn't even a question he needed to ask given the conversation they'd been having all of ten fucking minutes ago.

Gale paused like he was waiting for John to take it back.

But when he didn't, he nodded- pinching the bridge of his nose as he did. "Yeah- yeah of course we're turning around."

[a-jynx]

forgetting the universe (astarion/reader, astarionxgale)

i hope you enjoy this new fic!

tw; mention of blood drinking, mention of death/character passing, heavy on the angst, smut, somemore angst, and hopefully some comfort! And a lot of back and forth on feelings from Gale. Bloodweave lover!!!

*Gale's thoughts are BOLD & italicized *Gale in disguise is Italicized

A gentle shake woke him. A noise of disgruntle urged through his lips as he turned over, stuffing his face back into his bedrolls' sorry excuse of a pillow.

"Five more minutes," he huffed, scrunching his nose. A scoff could be heard above him as he was harshly shaken. Snapping his eyes open, he sat up on his elbow and looked to the assailant. "Do you mind? Some of us need-"

"Gale."

Oh.

Swallowing thickly, he faced the soaked face rogue. Another nightmare... "I- I hadn't realized," Gale coughed, feeling heat rush his cheeks. "Are you alright, Astarion?" His voice low, afraid to scare off his vampiric companion. His usually well-done curls now limp around his eyes and ears. Brilliant ruby-colored eyes now dull and wet as Astarion swallowed, shifting closer to the wizard. Crimson stains were brushed across the vampire's lips.. He must've recently fed. Gale hummed at the thought, quickly shaking his head and finding himself pressed closer to his companion. His friend...

"I'm forgetting them," Astarion whispered, a strangled noise coming from his throat as Gale blinked. Them. Of course.

"I'm forgetting my lover already." Tears streaked down his cheeks as Gale sighed, turning his body towards the man. His hands shook as he pulled Astarion into his chest, his thumb trying to soothe away whatever pain ails him. Astarion turned further into the warmth given to him, sighing as he pressed his nose to Gale's neck. His pulse quickened.

"Show me them."

"What?" Gale leaned away, running from the shiver that coursed up his back as Astarion licked at his stained lips. "I know I woke you from a deep sleep, but try and use that," he gently flicked at Gale's temple. "Oh, so plentiful brain trapped behind your precious locks." His voice ended on a whisper, yet there was a hint of... Desperation?

Gale swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. Astarion's eyes jumped to his Adam's apple bobbing, something flashed across his crimson eyes. "Alright, just this once though..." The wizard murmured into white curls, feeling his tongue grow heavy and his mouth dry as he inhaled. "Just this once..."

A whisper of Disguise Self swirled around Gale's body. Tendrils of purple wrapped around his body and draped him in softer tones, his beard slowly shortened, if not disappeared altogether. His deep brown eyes shined against the soft candlelight. Astarion breathed a sigh, new tears ushering his cheeks. A trembling hand caressed the wizards' cheek. His feather-like touch brushed across the scar that decorated his past lovers' flesh. He could see the freckles he once counted with kisses, stating that he was counting the stars to his universe.

So, why would you take yourself away..?

Tears dripped onto the bedroll squished between their bodies. Your heat grew as Astarion drew closer - he could hear the thrum of his heart drumming against his ribs.

"Why? Why would you leave me?" The vampires' voice cracked as his sharp nails dug into the shoulders before him. A sharp whine left your parted lips while clenched teeth held back the hiss.

Gale had not a clue. One night, three - no four - months ago, you had got missing. The party searched for four days and three nights. He was the only one brave enough to face Astarion during the search; asking if he needed anything. He was always met with resistance or anger. The next morning that found your body... Mangled. The blood Astarion once treasured to suckle from your neck, now laid out and splattered the land before them.

The following night, Gale had been the one to comfort the angry rogue. Watching over him as he guzzled down bottle after bottle of whatever he could find. He had been so in love with you... He thought you to be immortal.

The world has a cruel way of checking ones' reality.

"I never chose to leave you," you all but whispered into his space. His lips hovered over your own. The smell of iron and wine strong on his breath. Your eyes fluttered closed as your lips pressed together. They moved together, teeth nipping and his fangs digging into your fattened bottom lip. Leaning back on your elbows, you fell away from Astarion's assault, brandishing your neck as he followed the juncture, pressing hot, open mouth kisses across your flesh.

"I- By the God's- I wouldn't leave you." Your voice shook as he nipped at your collarbone, suckling at the flesh until a dark bruise settled on your skin. "I loved you." A whimper fell from Astarion's lips as he tugged at your clothes, his hands shaking as the fabrics melted away from your body.

"You love me." His voice countered, causing a hitch in your throat. His body hovered over you, watching as your chest rose and fell quickly. "Say it. Say you love me." His voice held bite as he stared into your eyes, tears now dried and replaced with something... Carnal.

"I-" Your voice died, catching in your throat. Astarion's brows furrowed, leaning down and pressing soft kisses to your stomach, a hum leaving him every time your muscles lurch from his touch.

"Say you love me," he whispered against your taut skin. Glancing up through his low lashes while his tongue peeked out from his fangs, licking at the sharp tip. "Say you'll never leave me and... And that you need me as much as I need you." Astarion's voice wavered, as you stared down at him, tears prickling your waterline.

He was breaking...

"Astarion,"

"No! No, I am your Star, and you are my Universe, remember...?" His voice quivered as you swallowed thickly, blinking as a tear slipped down your cheek. Licking at your drying lips, you nodded. Give this to him. Give him the comfort he's begging for...

"I love you."

This is wrong.

"You are my mighty Star, and I am your whole Universe."

I'm not them.

"I need more than ever, please, my Star."

Pull back. Let go. This isn't how I wanted to do this!

Astarion's eyes fluttered closed as if remembering each syllable that escape your lips. Listening to your words as if they were gently caressing his skin. Just as his fingers caressed your flesh, gentle red lines etched across your thighs as he sighed.

"Thank you." The words whispered into the air before he shot up your body, slamming his lips into your own. Teeth clashed as he maneuvered his hips to grind against your own. Deep groans erupted from deep within your chest causing a smirk against your lips. Your lips followed as he leaned away, interrupting your journey with his fingers brushing against your swollen, darkened lips.

"Open."

Your tongue lolled out, accepting his digits with a hum. He watched with a smirk as your spit slickened up his fingers, and with a nod he slowly dragged them from your mouth, chuckling darkly as a string of spit connected you still. Settling back on his haunches, he dragged your body closer as your ass rested against his thighs.

"Hips up, and do try to keep it down," he grinned, flashing his fangs with a lick. "Our companions are trying to get their beauty rest." As the last word left his lips, his fingers prodded at your entrance. Your eyes widened as your hand shot out, digging your nails into his forearm.

By the God's-

"Fuck," whimpered through your lips as his slick knuckles slid in and out of you. Your spit had given you little lube as you gasped, feeling a second finger slid beside the other. Each thrust caused you to keen, your toes to curl as his fingers scissored and his thrust quickened. Your mind began to cloud over. You felt Astarion's weight shift further onto your stomach, causing your body to curl further into itself as his lips pressed softly to yours.

"Let go, let me see you." His words melted as you inhaled a gasp, flinching as his fingers pulled from your warmth. You blinked as you watched his hand loosen the hold of his pants, causing you to whine at the sight before you. His cock sprung free, teasing your lower stomach with the tip as his precum oozed freely.

Shaking your head, you dug your nails further into his skin, no doubt leaving crescents in your wake. He tsked, moving back and allowing your body to relax against his thighs once more. You flinched as he spat into his hand, slicking up his cock with a mixture of his saliva and precum. You felt your mouth began to water.

"Steady breathes, my Universe," he murmured, grasping his cock and teasing your entrance with the tip, smirking to himself as your muscles jumped and your brows furrowed at the feeling. "Relax for me, enjoy our mixed bliss together." He pressed into you, tilting his up as if in prayer. A deep groan erupting from his slack jaw, oh you felt like heaven...

Gale's eyes snapped open as Astarion gently thrusted. Prodding his cock further into the wizard below him with low lidded eyes. The dark brown disappeared into his head as the vampiric rogue bottomed out with a smirk and a coo.

"You lost your disguise, oh, Great Gale of Waterdeep." Astarion cooed teasingly as Gale huffed, trying to keep his breathing steady from the intrusion.

"I'm, fuck, I'm sorry Astar-" A sharp thrust cut off Gale's voice, causing him to keen at the deep feeling. His body fought to tense up as Astarion kept shallow thrusts moving the man below him, grinning as the usually cocky wizard lost his words.

"I told you," Astarion pulled out fully causing a whine to leave Gale, his teeth clenched as his eyes drifted open, meeting the darkened vermilion. "I am your Star," he pushed back into Gale before gripping the wizards' hips and deeply thrusting. Gale's body jumped with each thrust as his mouth went slack, his eyes pinched closed in pleasure.

"And you are my Constellation." Astarion whispered, his thrust becoming sloppy. Gale keened at the words; he could feel tears brewing behind his lids, but he couldn't break the piece of heaven he had right now. He needed this. They both did.

Gale flinched as a hand reached up, caressing his scruffy cheeks as Astarion's grip squished them together causing his lips to purse. "Look at me and tell me you do not feel this," his voice cracked as his hips met flush against Gale's ass. His free hand reaching between their bodies and grasping Gale's stiff cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip as precum leaked like a waterfall. Leaning over, Astarion spat onto the tip causing Gale to lurch as his hand worked him quickly, rotating his wrist while listening to the slickness work over the wizards' cock.

"I-" Another thrust punctured his words.

"You were the only comfort I've known since their passing. The only one I craved on nights where the nightmares lingered too much," Astarion choked out as Gale glanced to his face, meeting his once again glossed over eyes. Trembling fingers reached out, brushing a limp curl behind the Elf's ear. Astarion grit his teeth and slammed a final thrust before spilling into Gale, shivering as the warmth shivered down Astarion's back. His hand worked over Gale's cock quickly, leaning down and gently sucking at the tip as his body quacked, leaning back Astarion watched as his cum shot across his stomach, tears dripping down his slightly flushed cheeks.

"You were all my brain consumed after their death." Tears splattered onto Gale's cum covered stomach. He gently leaned back, pulling his cock from Gale's body and watching spurts of cum dribbled down his back.

The crickets and rushing river joined in on their gentle breathing, small huffs as they sat and stared at one another. Astarion cleared his throat, wiping his cheeks and chin as Gale swallowed thickly around the lump growing in his throat. They cared for one another, now in more ways than one. But... It couldn't work.

Could it?

"Astarion, I-"

"I know... This was a one-time thing." He huffed with a sniffle, tucking a curl behind his sharp ear. Gale frowned. Why.. Why did he sound disappointed? "I came to you in a vulnerable time, and you assisted me with it. Thank you, Gale of Waterdeep." Astarion teased with a grin, shifting to his feet as Gale sat there, watching.

"Astarion, I... I'm truly sorry for your loss." He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his stomach knot with dread whilst still feeling the warmth left inside him, cum and tears drying across his stomach.

Astarion sucked at his teeth, nodding before moving towards the tent entrance. He paused, his fingers digging into the tents' fabric before huffing out a breath and pushing out into the night, leaving Gale with his mind warped and his gut mangled.

Settling back into his bedroll, Gale felt his eyes begin to water. Squeezing his eyes tightly, he allowed the tears to cascade down his cheeks and disappear within his beard. Tangling his hands together, he picked at the torn flesh around his nailbeds while flashes of Astarion and you danced across his mind. The two of you were so happy together. Jealously bubbled in his chest as he slowly opened his eyes, staring at the top of his tent with ache.

Sitting up, he reached over and pulled his robe over his head, standing and snuffing out the candle before him. Pushing out into the still night, he glanced towards the fire and seeing the coals smoldering away whilst everyone rested in their tents. Gale found his eyes lingering towards Astarion's tent, another bubble of anxiety plowed up his back. Twisting his hands together, Gale marched towards the vampiric companion's homely refuge.

He stood before the flap, watching as candlelight danced from within. Inhaling deeply, he pulled back the flap and moved into the warmth. Astarion's attention snapped towards him, the book in his hand now forgotten on his lap. "Gale..? Back for a second-"

"I do love you."

They sat stunned at one another. Gale's eyes wide as he gnawed at his bottom lip. Astarion stared at the wizard with somewhat glittering - hopeful yet cautious- eyes. Astarion slowly stood, allowing the book to tumble from his grasp as Gale stood stoic, his jaw tightly set. He moved closer, eyes darting around the brunettes' face - studying him as he lifted a gentle hand, caressing the loose locks.

Gale hummed. "I do love you. I.. You lost someone truly dear to you, and I am sorry for that, however, the day you came to me for comfort those months ago - and tonight - I couldn't help but feel like it was meant to be a blessing in disguise," his voice travelled a mile a minute as Astarion's brows furrowed, causing him to triple back.

"Not that them dying was a good thing! By the God's, Mystra give me strength - I just meant-" Astarion pressed his index against the stumbling man's lips as a soft grin fluttered across his own.

"You're rambling again, darling."

"Right. Apologizes." Gale chuckled as Astarion dropped his hand, gently grasping his before sighing.

"I... I understand what you are saying, Gale, but could we really make this work?" His voice dropped as Gale's brows furrowed, his hands now caressing the bundle of hands in front of him, dragging the rogue closer.

"We can make it work. They would want you to be happy-"

A smile split his crimson-stained lips apart, the tips of his fangs peeking out. Tilting his head up, their lips connected.

Soft. Gentle. No rushing, no teeth clashing against one another in a rush for a taste of one another. Gale sighed against the iron-tasting lips, pressing his forehead against Astarion's temple. He could feel his heart thrumming against his chest as he held his companion close. Astarion suddenly stepped back, tugging Gale behind him to the bedroll below. Their arms wrapped around one another, Astarion pressed tightly into Gale's chest with a content sigh.

Their shared breaths mixed with the nights' gentle sounds. Their holds tightening on each other as the world seemed to grow quiet while they breathed each other in, feeling the weight of one another in their arms. Gale curled his head against Astarion's loose curls, breathing in the Bergamot and rosemary mixing with the iron scent still lingering on his skin.

This is what you would've wanted.

You would've wanted them to find each other and seek comfort. Especially Astarion. He had fought so hard to keep you, but the world ripped you away... Only to gift Gale in your place. It had been cruel, yes. But, in the back of his mind, Gale believed you pushed them together in the end. Tugged them together so that they may find peace in this chaotic life that you left behind.

With a final glance into the white curls below, Gale pressed a soft kiss to the vampire's crown before whispering into his hair, "I promise to love you, my Starlight."

[astarionsilverbough]

“Darling.”

And it’s Different, when it’s for him.

Because, you see - Astarion calls everyone ‘darling.’ Even Shadowheart (though for a while that one is a bit… cruel).

And everyone gets a different version of the word, of course - and variations of it for different circumstances and events. So far, Gale has the most variations of the term - Halsin’s kept count. They range from affectionate and fond to absolutely poisonous and sometimes dangerous. There are, by Halsin’s count, thirteen versions of ‘darling,’ for Gale (who, again, is Astarion’s best and most steadfast friend - though Astarion would wrinkle his nose at the term).

But when it comes to him?

When it comes to him, there are three. Three variations of ‘darling’ that no one else - not even Gale - gets.

1.) Utterly and absolutely… soft. Oh, but it’s so soft. Often it’s used only in private - in moments when Astarion can cup his jaw or slide into his lap and murmur it against his lips. Halsin can think of two times Astarion has used that ‘darling’ in front of everyone else: the first?

When they (‘they’ being Astarion, Gale, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Wyll) had found Halsin broken and alone in the Underdark after he’d carved through the goblins alone.

It was the first time the two elves had seen each other in two hundred years and five months. Through the haze of drow poison and blood loss, Halsin had heard the sun.

“Halsin. Darling.”

Achingly soft and so beautiful. A calloused but gentle hand cupped his chin and Astarion - older and more magnificent than Halsin remembered - had swum into focus above him.

Oh, but how he’d fallen in love with the man all over again in that moment… The thrill of it had been just as intense as it had been the first time, when they were younger and more afraid.

That was the first time he’d ever heard the soft variation of ‘darling’. Two hundred years and five months after the last time he’d seen Astarion Ancunín, who was more magnificent than he remembered but smelled exactly the same and could outburn the sun.

The second had been -

“I have to do this alone, Astarion.”

The darkness was like ash clinging to his skin. Karlach had been throwing stones into the abyssal waters; Gale was pointedly trying not to listen while Shadowheart was watching them like a vulture about to clean a carcass.

And oh, how he’d been terrified. To wander the Shadowfell, nothing to go on but a glimmer of vengeful hope and the scent of lavender… would he ever see the sun again?

Would he forget what gold sounded like?

But then -

Astarion’s plush lips part and his brow creases, brilliant sunset eyes big and glistening. For a moment, Halsin expects - well. Nothing good, that’s for certain.

A foolish thing, to try and predict the heat of the sun.

A nimble hand slides over his chest and catches his chin. The next thing he knows, he’s being kissed with tongue and fang. Solar flares explode in his lungs and Astarion thumbs over his cheek.

“Come back to me, darling,” he says.

It is a command, gentle and easy. Soft in the way that inspires hope somewhere inside his bones.

Not a hint of worry. Trust him - he knows what the worried variant of ‘darling’ sounds like.

Speaking of which:

2.) Astarion trusts Halsin in a way he isn’t sure how to hold; he feels a bit like a child cradling a bird with a wounded wing in his palms. One wrong move and that wing could shatter and leave the little bird he seeks to protect incapable of flight.

He doesn’t use the worried variant of ‘darling’ when Halsin is about to or has already attempted something foolish or heroic (see: ‘darling’ variant no. 1).

Astarion’s concerned and slightly lilting ���darling,” comes when they’re in situations and he needs Halsin to look exactly where he’s looking at that very moment. It is a precise and hard-learned code, one that Halsin is more tuned into than even the method by which nature forms the reality around them.

It starts immediately: they’re in the Underdark and Halsin is still aching from the effects of the drow poison and the blood loss, and he can feel Astarion’s presence like sunbeams on his skin.

But even as he’s so acutely focused on Astarion’s presence, he’s still aching from the effects of drow poison and the blood loss, and so when Astarion’s sharp and tense “darling,” comes, he looks around just a little too late.

The Spectator catches them by surprise. Somehow, they survive the fight.

Halsin is looking at Astarion with every snapping “darling” he utters, now.

But even as the worried variant of ‘darling’ is the command he exists by and the soft variant is the one that sends heat through his bones and burns them gold, the variant of ‘darling’ that Halsin adores the most is -

3.) Sheer, raw fury.

It has only been used with such enchantment once. So far, at least. Who knows what the rest of the eternity he intends to spend beside the moon-kissed elf will bring, but so far…

So far it’s just been -

“Be well, then, darling.”

And oh, the way it had seared across Halsin like a lash of flame! How it had made his soul twist and his heart stop, commanded still by the sheer weight of the viscerally vitriolic venom in the word.

There was to be no doubt, then. A mate he was, and a mate he would always be. Some part of Halsin was snatched away in that moment. It fused with Astarion’s shadow, and there it would stay until he was led back to the young elfling.

The compass to lead him home.

Because this variant of ‘darling’ - this horrible, wrenching barb of a thing - had been shot at Halsin after he had told a twenty-year-old Astarion that:

“I cannot give you what you seek,” after a quiet and heartbreaking:

“I love you. I’m - Halsin, I’m… in love with you.”

And he’s over a hundred and Astarion is twenty and even if he’s everything Halsin wants, it’s not time. Not yet. The seasons need more time to show Astarion what the world can offer. He needs to taste the fruits of many before he settles on his favorite.

So:

“Oh, my little star,” Halsin had said in elvish; “I cannot give you what you seek.”

It was like watching the winter freeze settle in. It was seeing the sea go black before a storm; it was the flicker of divinity in the pit of Halsin’s belly and the hunt at the height of the season. It was every perfect and horrible thing all at once and Halsin loved this creature more than the earth beneath his feet.

“You are so young - there is so much you’ve yet to witness, experience.” He’d taken one of Astarion’s hands. It had been limp, cold. He’d kissed it anyway and stepped back. “And I must go my own way for now. Don’t worry. You’ll see me again, little star.”

And it was silent then, the kind of silent that made Halsin’s skin pebble with gooseflesh.

Until:

“Be well, then, darling.”

A dismissal. Inelegant and so wrathful. A blessing lain on the path beneath his boots. The sun blazed so hot it carved itself into his soul and stole a piece of him away.

It has not rejoined him. That’s alright; he feels it whenever Astarion is near, and these days it’s rare when he isn’t. Halsin is his sword and shield, the crown on his head and the throne beneath him.

And when the word comes this time - “darling,” - it’s just for him, spoken against the shell of Halsin’s ear as a damp, fresh-from-the-bath Astarion settles over his thighs and slides his arms around Halsin’s neck. Heat lunges up Halsin’s spine and he frames Astarion’s slender waist with keeping hands. So lost in the taste of the man’s skin, Halsin barely notices he’s been talking at him until Astarion gently tugs at his hair.

“Halsin, darling.”

His ears perk up. That’s a new one - slightly exasperated, clipped and somewhat offended in a small, quiet way. A vulnerable way.

“Were you even listening to a thing I said?”

Stomach clenching, Halsin slides his keeping hands over Astarion’s flanks and scans his face. He’s pouting. This is a new face, a new variant. Halsin’s nerves align and he cups Astarion’s chin.

“Forgive me,” he says soberly. “I was lost in thought. Tell me what I missed - speak to me, lover.”

He jostles Astarion a bit and the elf’s expression softens just before he arches a brow and tips back with a shrewd, playful glare. Halsin keeps him supported with a big hand at the base of his spine and chases a hopeless kiss he doesn’t get on a whim.

“And what, pray tell, was so important it stole you away from me?” Astarion demands, fingertips guarding Halsin’s lips.

Halsin smiles against his touch. “You.”

And when Astarion’s expression changes, it makes Halsin feel like spring. Those sunset eyes go dewy and Astarion’s body melts against the strong plain of his own.

“You,” he mutters against Halsin’s lips, “are a menace, darling.”

And he’ll never tire of it - never tire of learning every cadence this man can shape. Maybe one day he’ll earn more variants than Gale - for now, he’ll settle on keeping the Different ones, the ones no one else gets to hold.

There is no greater honor.

[johnslittlespoon]

accidentally just created my own buckbucky college au oops (i love college aus tho, this was far overdue tbh) so here's like ~2k words of (semi–nsfw) drabble that i wanna turn into a oneshot/series :-)

thinking about modern au pre–established relationship buckbucky who meet in their first year of college because they apply to an ad to rent a two bedroom apartment near campus, complete strangers save for a few texts back and forth until move in day.

they become fast friends despite how opposite they are, john being a cliche frat boy type (but subverting expectations by majoring in something english–related? waxing secret poetry about his 'obvious as the sun to everyone but gale' crush on his roommate lol) and gale being a studious math/science major, no interest in parties or campus culture. pining aside, everything's just fine until:

john does something stupid a few months into the school year and ends up spraining/breaking his dominant arm– probably wipes out trying to ride his bike home to his and gale's apartment while drunk after a party. gale gets a call at midnight from a sheepish john asking if he can come drive him to the hospital, and of course he does, though after his initial concern when he picks john up at the side of some random street, he's fuming at john's idiocy.

"you could've rode into traffic, john. jesus, you're gonna give me a stroke one of these days, you gotta start using your brain more." and john's drenched in cold–sweat from pain as he cradles his arm to his chest, head tilted back against the headrest and trying not to curse out every red light as his head spins, but he still cracks a weak smile and says "c'mon buck, you'd be bored if i started using my brain." gale glances over and the stern look is enough to shut john up.

this injury leads to gale having to help him with certain tasks for a bit, like shaving his face, brushing his teeth, doing his hair, tying shoes, etc. john's stubborn the day after, independent to a fault, refusing to ask for help, and gale watches with mild amusement/hidden winces, not wanting to push because he knows by now it'll only make john dig his heels in. gale only decides that enough is enough when he's walking past the half–open bathroom door the next afternoon and suddenly hears a sharp inhale and a stream of profanities and pokes his head in to find john's cut his jaw trying to shave with his left hand.

the intimacy and domesticity of it all– john pretends he's inconvenienced, but once he realizes this means he gets to stare at gale's focussed face up close as he sits on the bathroom counter and gale stands between his legs carefully shaving away his stubble, he's a lot less reluctant to accept help. but being that close to gale's face and being able to unabashedly study his long lashes and the curve of his lips is dangerous for john's lack of impulse control, barely keeping his pining under wraps from the moment they'd met, let alone with this newfound proximity they have to fall into the routine of.

so john has fun being a shithead on purpose during these moments, both to distract his yearning brain and for his own entertainment, just yapping away while gale's frustratedly trying to grab him by his jaw and hold him still for five seconds. biting down on the toothbrush when gale's trying to do a proper job of brushing his teeth so gale has to wrestle it away like he's playing tug of war with a dog, being an asshole and jerking his shoe to the side while gale's doing up his laces for him, heart leaping at the thrill he gets from gale's touches getting firmer when he's fed up, or from being pinned by irritated blue eyes.

he has no idea gale's pining just as hard, because gale's a master of concealing emotions in thanks to a very different upbringing than john's, and because while gale doesn't hide his queerness, he's not as open with it as john is. but gale's losing his mind just as much each time john needs his help, and the way he feels his self control slipping scares him.

this little dance around each other probably comes to a peak when john's being extra difficult one day while gale's trying to tame his wild curls for him. gale's got john pressed back against the bathroom counter with a scowl, working his gelled fingers through thick dark hair, and john can barely think straight because oh, has he ever spent an ungodly amount of time thinking about gale's hands in his hair under very different circumstances.

john's got a grin so big it near splits his face in half as he purposefully leans out of gale's reach, pulling every annoying thing he can think of because if he focuses too hard on gale's motions, he's gonna pop a very inconvenient boner with no hope of concealing it from gale with the way he's pressed up against him.

but gale's got twenty minutes until his next class and it's a ten minute walk from their apartment, and he's at the end of his rope, so he finally snaps and without giving it a second thought he closes the last bit of distance between them to grab at the back of john's hair, and he pulls, hard.

the smile slides off john's face as his mouth falls open and his hips reflexively jerk forward and whatever scolding gale was about to give him dies in his throat because holy shit. there's a few seconds where both of them just stare at each other wide eyed with their hearts pounding, john internally spiralling because he thinks he's just fucked everything up, gale internally spiralling because oh my god, he hasn't been misreading john's behaviour around him.

gale whispers a "fuck" and, more impulsive than he's ever allowed himself to be, goes in for the kiss, hand still tight in john's hair, and john whines into his mouth and his hands fly to gale's waist and everything gets heated really quick– until gale pulls away with a gasp for breath, both of them panting, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy. and then gale's ducking out of the bathroom and grabbing his backpack from the entry way and all but sprinting out of the apartment.

john's left standing there harder than he's ever been in his life but also panicking because he's not sure whether he's fucked up or whether gale's just overwhelmed, because he knows gale well enough to know he likes his space when big things happen.

but gale also knows john well enough to know how big of an overthinker he is; they've probably had to work through some incidents where their communication styles have clashed over the few months they've been roomies. so after his hands stop shaking enough while he's walking to campus, he types out a message to john letting him know 'I'm all good. Sorry for running, was gonna be late for class and panicked. Talk later, yeah?'

and john sighs in relief, texts back a 'np. sounds good :)' and then promptly shoves a hand down his pants and comes embarrassingly quick with the sting of gale's hands in his hair still fresh in his mind.

they talk things out somewhat, blahblahblah plotting problem for future me, but they're both shy and awkward around each other for a bit, which is so out of character for john and how obnoxiously flirty and loud mouthed he normally is.

so maybe what finally breaks them out of this tiptoeing around each other after a few days is something stupid– specifically, john ends up pent up and frustrated because trying to get off with his left hand just isn't doing it for him. and he's one of those 'once a day minimum' guys, so this isn't something he can just ignore; finds his temper is shorter, and he can't focus as well, etc. drama queen.

either gale comments on it lightheartedly and john blurts out his problem unthinkingly, or john makes an offhand joke about it, and gale thinks john's lack of impulse control is starting to rub off on him, because after a beat of silence, he gets out an "i can help."

john's head snaps over to look at him so fast he feels like he gives himself whiplash, eyes comically rounded, wondering if he's heard gale wrong or if gale's making a rare flirtatious joke. gale blinks back at him, looking just as surprised, tips of his ears going a little pink, but he doesn't laugh or throw in a 'only kidding!'

mumbles a "y'know, if you want," second guessing himself as if what happened in the bathroom a few days before isn't in john's top three best things that have ever happened to him list. john gets out a "yeah– yeah, i want," uncharacteristically nervous, and gale nods, turning his attention back to his laptop. and john just stands there in the kitchen, flabbergasted, shifting uncertainly.

works up the courage to shyly ask, "like. now? or." and he feels like he's never fumbled the bag so hard in his life, unable to remember the last time he's felt shy when talking about sex–related stuff, realizes just how bad his crush on gale's gotten. beyond a crush, at this point. and it makes it worse that gale's so nonchalant now, humming to himself as if in deep thought before saying "later. i've gotta get this assignment done."

john loses his mind over those next few hours, trying to be patient and give gale space to focus, but he's half hard the whole time and can't think about anything other than what gale means by 'helping'. gale can sense his impatience from the other side of their apartment, and he can't help the way it makes him smile to himself, having fun teasing john without even needing to do anything, and without john knowing it's fully intentional.

unfortunately this arrangement, however it plays out, probably leads to a lotta miscommunication and repression of feelings, because they're both dumb boys who suck at communicating, neither one of them wanting to ruin a good thing (aka an inevitable friends with benefits situation) by bringing up their feelings for the other. but there's plenty of hot sex and light kink exploration in the meantime, and eventually they sort their shit out, likely by accident like every other situation they've stumbled into together.

and not to cliffhang pre–smut, but i'll leave it there because this is way too long and if i do turn it into a oneshot i don't wanna write it all out of my system into this drabble before it makes it into a fic loll <3

[afewfantasies]

🏔️The Retreat 🏔️- Chapter II

Prologue | Chapter I | Misc references & details

Summary:  Set about a month after the first Chapter, Gale heads into town for supplies and to make a reunion with the survivors of 'the bloody hundredth'. Lorena accompanies him on this journey, while the road-trip together is new territory - the reunion proves a success. Gale and Lorena get to see glimpses of each other at their best, in their elements and the new perceptions of each other are complimentary. Setting the foundation for bonds built to last.

Pairing: Gale Cleven x Lorena (black fem oc), everyones favorite Bucky Egan makes an appearance.

Warnings:  Race is a factor but there will be no overwhelmingly racist outbursts. It is more so a discovery element and explorations, different worlds, a little forbidden love element.

Tropes: Slow Burn, opposites attract, forbidden love

Word Count: 3.3K

Chapter II

Sitting in the car Lorena takes inventory of her purse for a third time. The drive into the nearest major city is five hours and Gale makes the trip once a month to pick up necessities without the markup of the local city. With his current profit margins it’s no need but he’s a man of routine. Lorena looks him over realizing this is the only time he’s freshly shaven with coiffed hair. His clothes are pressed and starched to perfection and he looks like he could belong in the pictures. Turning back to her window she wonders if he has someone in town or if it’s a bid to get someone in particular’s attention. She’d never asked any questions about his romantic life in the four months she’d been with him. Rose had disclosed the important stuff. He had been engaged prior to the war, but then before victory his intended decided to leave him for a Hollywood producer. Gale’s fiance was beautiful, Rose says they looked like a Hollywood couple. It was now weeks since Lorena’s breakdown and things were closer to normal again now. She was back to her easy going nature. Reaching into her purse she gets out a book getting Gales attention as she flips through pages before starting at the beginning. He focuses on the road for about five minutes until Lorena grows restless again. It makes him smile remembering his best friend.

“My best friend’s gonna meet us in town,” Gale says, breaking the silence.

“You have friends?” Lorena asks, surprised.

“I do” he nods and Lorena smiles pleased for him.

“So you speak to him? Full sentences or … how was the friendship developed?” She asks, her tone slightly teasing.

“Bucky talks enough for the both of us, you two are very similar” Gale responds with a shady smile.

“Bucky’s a woman?” Lorena asks, being cheeky.

“No, he’s one of my brothers from the war. We trained together, flew in together and were prisoners of war together” he says candidly, sometimes it felt good to tell the truth.

“Sorry” Lorena says not wanting to mock anything about what was undoubtedly a painful time in his life.

“It’s fine,” he says. “Bucky’s a flirt but he means nothing by it, he’ll probably tease the both of us unmercifully but it’s just his character. He can be juvenile at times but there’s no better man to have on your side in a pinch” Gale says with reverence for his comrade.

“I’m not easily offended” Lorena comments. “Also, I’d rather not interrupt a reunion of soldiers” she says with the wounds still fresh from her own ejection of Reggies life and times as a soldier.

“It’s fine, some of the guys will have sisters, wives, girlfriends and such with them. Rose thought it would be a good idea. You could shop and have some female company.” Gale proposes always the Major, always considering others. Somehow, it wasn’t infuriating to Lorena that they were discussing her behind her back. Gale and Rose really did seem to have her best interest at heart.

Lorena takes in her surroundings the drive in had been so full of strife and anxiety that there was no time to enjoy the mountain ranges. Everything looked far more picturesque than any painting she’d ever seen of the west. If her granny was still alive she would tell Lorena that this was the kind of place you survived at god's mercy. Her childhood experiences lead her to think of exodus, or maybe this was her Joseph moment as a girl. She hoped her grandmother's prayers would protect her in this new journey, through her rebellion and absconding of her home and family. Her grandmother would be proud of her survival instincts. Gale pulls over into a gas station to top up the tank.

“I can drive if you’d like?” Lorena offers.

“I’m fine, doll.  I’ve managed longer with more challenging hardware” Gale smiles, seeming happier than ever before. There was a gleam in his eye that she’d somehow seemed to miss every day at breakfast and dinner.

“Okay” Lorena nods, heading into the station with Gale. He checks the bathroom before allowing her inside. He stands outside the door considerate of the world’s ugliness and prejudice. Lorena found Gale even more protective than her own older brother. He was always hyper vigilant, assessing levels of danger and prospective threats. It was a symptom of the sickness the war left behind according to the mature ladies who’d lived through the return of men from the Great War. Gale catches all the eyes looking at Lorena and decides against using the restroom for the next few hours of his drive. He had his demons and didn’t need to risk letting that part of himself out while in the presence of a woman who’d never known that level of dysfunction. His daddy was a drunk man with a predisposition for violence. The very opposite of the kind of man Gale wanted to be.

“I’m fine to wait here” Lorena says.

“No” Gale swallows.

“You could ruin your bladder” Lorena tells Gale who smiles.

“I’ll be fine, doll” he scoffs.

“My Pa is a physician, he had a lot of patients in their old age suffering from incontinence, which means they can’t control their bladders.” Lorena explains.

“I know what it means, I’ll be fine Lorena” Gale says in an even tone. Smiling, Lorena turns away looking out the window as the sun begins to set. It was another thing that set Gale apart from the rest. She’d gone through life with the ability to charm the opposite sex with sweet smiles and fluttering lashes. Her granny always told her it was a danger to be so pretty - Gale seemed to think so too.

“What?” He asks, noticing her dimples.

“Just thinking about my Granny” she shares.

“Granny? You don’t send her any letters”

“No she’s passed on, something about you just now reminded me of her. She didn’t like many people either and was very protective. Took no advice or no nonsense, people gave her space and respect” Lorena explains. Gale shakes his head scoffing without comment. 

“A woman” he says finally, a callback to the Bucky debacle.

“I meant no offense Gale and besides, Granny was knockout - way prettier than you” Lorena teases getting a genuine laugh out of him. He’d received the pretty boy jokes his entire life, especially in the war. Never from a woman though. It reminded him of something Bucky would say. It was a strange thing to find the qualities you admire in someone who’d entered your life so unexpectedly but it was settling to both Gale and Lorena. Granny and Bucky have both been pillars of their lives during the times they were becoming the core of the people they were now. It’s dark when they arrive in the city, Gale takes the cases up to a room leaving Lorena confused. There was only one bedroom and one bed.

“Is there another room?” She asks looking up at Gale who seems ashamed.

“Not tonight, take the bedroom. I’ll take the couch, it’ll be safer that way” he explains as Lorena turns towards the door again. He’d spent practically an entire day on the road in an uncomfortable car, a couch would not suffice. “Before you start, I’ve slept in far worse conditions” Gale says, taking a seat.

Sighing Lorena says not another word to avoid a quarrel, she heads to the bathroom to freshen up and ready for bed. When Lorena had shown up at his door he was suspicious at first, a beautiful woman, young and with an unbelievable story. At first he was sure someone had sent her for him, then he was sure she was pregnant and looking to hide a child and then he was puzzled. She was remarkable and somehow through dumb luck or divine intervention she managed to travel all this way without knowing the evils of this world. Divorcee’s were usually more prickly around the edges but Lorena’s naivete shone through. Perhaps Gale hadn’t yet placed it but it had helped him come a long way. Done a lot to show him that his sacrifice had meant something to this world. That there were eyes that would never see the worst of it.

__________________

Noise startles Lorena, rousing her from a deep sleep. Turning she finds the other side of the bed empty once again. Waking, she swallows her bitterness like she had every day since she’d discovered another woman was a part of her marriage. Pulling on a housecoat she pads to the bedroom door only to find a sleepy looking Gale speaking to a tall smiling brunette.

“Gale, where’d you find her?” The man says pushing past Gale breaking all rules of decorum to shake Lorena’s hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips as he looks her in the eyes.

“You must be Bucky” Lorena smiles amused by his pageantry.

“That’s right,” Bucky smiles.

“I’m Lorena” she says and it takes some time for it to register. Bucky frowns a bit before turning to Gale in confusion.

“Buck, you didn’t say she was gorgeous. That’s not the kind of thing you leave out.” Bucky exclaims before turning back to Lorena. “Lorena, it’s a pleasure doll” Bucky says more respectably.

“Gales, a man of few words, he was conserving ink” you tease.

“Ohhhhh, I like her,” Bucky laughs, turning to Gale who nods knowingly.

“Come on, I'll introduce you to the rest of the women.” Bucky suggests.

“Not like this! I have to get ready!” Lorena says, alarmed.

“Might as well sit Egan, she’ll be awhile” Gale comments putting on a kettle.

“If you wake up like an angel, I’m all for seeing how you look all done up” Bucky says with his special brand of charm, it makes Lorena giggle. Gale had gotten used to her pageantry. At first it seemed silly, but he noticed how uncomfortable not being put together made her. Marge was beautiful too, drop dead gorgeous, the first time he’d laid eyes on her his heart stopped. They hadn’t had time to get to know each other really before the war. She was this woman who was perfect every time she appeared in front of him. There were no hairspray, cans and palettes of makeup and products, rollers and itons. There were no bottles of nail polish and strange scents about the house. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she’d left him for someone else. Perhaps he’d taken her for granted, perhaps he was too quiet, boring, reclusive and all the other things people said about him. He’d heard the commentary, grouchy recluse, tyrant, miserable hoot. He’d also heard the rumors started by the women. He was impotent or maybe the Germans had castrated him when he was captured. None of it was true, it was heartbreak although no one saw it that was. Just like no one could see through all Lorena’s pretty that she spent some nights sobbing. That sometimes all the makeup and pageantry was used to cover her puffy eyes and flushed skin. Sometimes the partying and drinking was her only medicine. It had occurred to Gale, watching Lorena over the past four months, that the women of the war had their own pain they had no outlets for. That they didn’t think twice about setting their pain aside for their men.

“She’s nice and beautiful - why’s she in the middle of nowhere with you?” Bucky whispers curiously.

“Her husband… ex-husband found someone in Europe and brought her back home. That’s about all I know, she doesn’t talk about it much”

“I bet you never asked” Bucky swallows, turning back to her door.

“I hate to see her upset Egan, whatever it is she’s run pretty far she clearly doesn’t want to face it” Gale explains.

“Is she a flirt?” Bucky asks.

“Not genuinely no, her hearts still hemmed up in her ex. I think it was real” Gale shares with a close eye on the door.

“Well she doesn’t look hard to love” Egan comments leaving Buck to shake his head. “What about Marge, you hear from her?” He asks.

Gale sighs, tasting bitterness in his mouth, “No, but I think she'd be doing well in Hollywood, with that big producer. The mountains aren't her idea of happiness. I tried fighting for her - she doesn’t want me” he confesses with defeat.

“Screw it, there are plenty of good women out there, bad ones too - I know where to find those” Egan winks, making Buck laugh.

“Ready” Lorena smiles all done up in her finery. A touch more than even Gale was used to but they were in the city now and it seemed appropriate to bring her nicer items out of hiding.

“Where the hell did you find her?” Egan whispers as the three of them take the stairs to the party.

It had been months since Lorena was truly happy to throw a party. It was like a fish getting back in the water, she couldn’t help but smile along with the other women. In two hours she had the hall all done up for the 100th Bombardment Groups reunion. It looked swell, especially the champagne tower she’d managed all on her own. Everyone likes her sunny disposition and warm smile. She’d also disappeared with the women for the first two hours of the reunion, Gale knew it was to beautify them. He’d never met a person that enjoyed seeing others at their best as much as Lorena. The way the other woman clung to her and the way they laughed made his day. He hadn’t seen her laugh like that ever, he’d never seen her so happy. This seemed to be her element. She was a people person, generous with her time and natural abilities. She seemed to be so comfortable entertaining, a debutant of sorts. Even the wait staff was at her mercy getting drinks and hors d'oeuvres to the men and women of the reunion. Every time Gale took his eyes off of her she’d magically teleport to another corner of the room.

This reunion was therapeutic for Lorena, to see the men smiling and whole after all they’d endured. They were generous with the stories of their experiences both good and bad. She wasn’t prepared for some of the horrors she heard but they only made her appreciate the men all the more. Reggie had been on land while they had been in the sky. After learning about their “bloody hundredth' moniker she found herself thankful that Reggie had made it home whole, even if he didn’t love her the way he did before he left. Lorena hadn’t expected to host parties every weekend but she’d hoped to make a home for him, invite his comrades over, host, have children and give him something to look forward to so he could put the horrors of the past behind him.

Feeling her mood dip Lorena heads to the bar trading the happy bubbly for her newly acquired bad habit of whisky. The bartender gives her a glass and she turns to the party happening around her. Sipping the strong liquid she turns away from Alexander Jefferson and his wife. They share a kiss and it brings back fond memories. Spinning around on the barstool she looks at the glass of the liquor display trying to quiet the heartbreak in her chest. Reggie had been devoted to her like that once upon a time.

“Whisky” she hears from behind her only to see Bucky.

“A touch more ladylike than the moonshine the boys drink at the lakehouse” Lorena smiles.

“Don’t do that, not for me. Don’t pretend to be happy Lo - there’s nothing sadder” Bucky comments with sympathetic eyes. Smiling, she blinks away her tears. “I had all these grand plans and then I was in prison and week after week not a single letter. All the guys had their sweethearts and I had to find my own reasons” Bucky tells her candidly. It’s a deeply personal thing to share and incredibly vulnerable.

“Have you found anyone yet?” Lorena asks hopefully.

“Not yet, the guys write to me though” Bucky says.

“I will too and I’ll keep an eye out for you” Lorena adds, making Bucky smile.

“What’s your story, how does a city girl end up in the mountains?” Bucky asks, causing Lorena to drain her glass. Tapping the glass onto the bartop she beckons another needing more liquid courage for her truth.

“Reggie, my ex husband, was in the war. We were just married before he left, newly weds of sorts at least it was still the honeymoon. We had friends and a home and people say perfection doesn’t exist but I had no complaints. We were so complimentary, nothing he did annoyed me. He went over and heaven only knows what he saw, I understand it was horrible, I do, and my heart seems a small price to pay for his life but it's hard all the same” Lorena confesses wiping away stray tears. “He came back and it was different. He was trying to fill the shoes of what we had been. Bucky he’d never tried before. It was as easy as breathing, then I found letters from her and then I saw them together and as much as it hurt I was relieved. You know when you love someone that much it hurts to live with a ghost or a shell of them. So when I saw them and all my intuition was confirmed I left. Reggie didn’t need another great battle and it would’ve soured into resentment if I stayed. If I stayed at home I couldn’t survive it so I drove.” Lorena shrugs, wiping away more teats.

Bucky nods a few stray tears falling out of his own eyes.

“If I ever meet that sorry son of a bitch” he comments, making her smile. She takes her new glass of whisky, taking a sip as he stares at her. “I can tell you one thing for sure Lorena and I know men, your Reggie is a coward. A real man would’ve told the truth and carried the burden. You shouldn’t have had to run, you did nothing wrong but I’m glad to have met you. Glad to know you.” Bucky smiles, holding out a hand to her. Smiling, she shakes it.

“Likewise” Lorena agrees.

“I know what I’m gonna call you,” he smiles.

“What? Buck-ette?” Lorena teases, making him laugh.

“Angel,” he nods.

“Why Angel?” Lorena asks.

“Cause you're too good for this world” Bucky nods. “The kind of woman us men pray for” Bucky says.

Sitting at the bar Lorena finishes her drink and Bucky gets through three before he's up dancing and singing. He’s a hell of a good time, they dance together as friends until she overheats and finds a seat. Fanning herself as she watches Bucky go off on a tear she can't help but laugh. Familiar cologne tells her Gale is near and he sits in his perfectly tailored uniform. Lorena had known he was a good man but she never dreamed he was the kind of hero he was to these men. Brave, loyal, dependable and adventurous.

“Haven't seen you dance” Lorena comments.

“I don't dance,” Gale responds.

“No of course not” Lorena smiles watching Bucky belt out the words to the record playing.

“You have quite the moves”

“I was a debutant, there were lessons upon lessons and then there were lots of parties and I loved to dance. Seems silly now, but it's still a good time” Lorena confesses happily.

“Angel, I need you for the next one!” Bucky walls from the floor.

“Angel?”

“I’m officially one of you now, I’ve got my nickname” Lorena winks standing to smooth her dress. Watching them, Gale feels a curious longing in his chest. She fit so well he wondered if maybe the warm reception from his comrades at arms and neighbors in the mountains meant maybe they could be something more.

[middlingmay]

What about "oh, honey." for the prompt list? 😊

@onyxsboxes This only took me forever to get to, but it's here now! Hope you like it and it's at least somewhat worth the wait.

Prompt from this list.

The little house was innocuous from outside. A pitched roof lined with overlapping rows of wooden shingles. A chimney that sat smokeless, a few errant weeds growing out the pointing. Two sash windows flanking a front door. Their timber frames looked freshly sanded, and new, glossy paint covered the door.

The drive was a beige and pinkish ashy dirt that dusted when you walked. It was the kind that covered your shoes and your hems no matter what you did. He’d have to remember that for future.

He’d passed a few houses on his way here, but no one lived so close as to look in.

The garden is what surprised Gale the most. It was bursting with life. It wasn’t the perfectly manicured lawns the Caspar Neighbourhood Association preferred, but flowering, fragrant bushes were home to butterflies and bees. The grass was longer and littered with wildflowers, and Gale bet it was soft to lay down on. There was even a stone bird bath. A closer look and Gale saw the bottom was clean, scrubbed from any residue and filled with clean water.

Lucky birds. But Bucky always did like taking care of things.

Gale just hoped he was still one of those things.

It was that hope that brought him here, more than six months since he’d gotten back. Much more. Closer to the year’s mark than he wanted to admit.

It wouldn’t do to make Bucky wait another second, then. He tightened his grip on his field bag.

They hadn’t spoken much since they got home. Bucky called once or twice, and they wrote a few brief letters. More pleasantries than anything else. In every communication, he felt like Bucky was holding himself back, hedging, so unlike any version of Bucky or John he’d ever known. And it had horrified Gale so much that the distance between them seemed too far for their bond to stretch, that he hadn’t known what to say, and that had made things so much worse.

John had asked about the weeding, when he’d be expected to pick up his best man duties, and Gale had never had an answer for him.

The contact had dropped to next to nothing after that. And it had felt like grieving.

Gale missed John like he missed nothing else in the world. More than flying. More than he’s missed Marge over in Europe. And that realisation had told him all he ever needed to know.

So here he was. Hoping that Bucky still had it in him to take in one last Buck, one more time.

He knocked on the door.

No answer.

Gale peered in through both windows. There wasn’t so much as a flicker of life inside. He knocked again, harder, in case Bucky was taking a nap somewhere. Man could fall asleep anywhere if you gave him five minutes.

Nothing.

Gale contemplated his next move. He wasn’t leaving, that was for sure. But the familiar urge to go looking for Bucky whenever he wandered off flickered to life. But this wasn’t Thorpe Abbotts or the Stalag. He didn’t know the lay of the land here. He could search around for a spare key, maybe under one of the plant pots all over the place. Gale surveyed their sheer number with hands on his hips and a determined set to his mouth. Just as he went to take a step forward, he heard from the corner of the house:

“Buck?”

Gale jerked round, his field bag falling from his shoulder.

At the edge of the garden, at the mouth of a narrow passage that led round the side of the house, presumably to the back, stood John Egan.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to call this man Bucky, when that name had been synonymous with the larger than life, indestructible Major of the 100th Bomb Group.

The man before him wore a loose shirt, unbuttoned down to his chest. His hair had grown out, and Gale had known it was curly but hadn’t known the devastating affect of it when they were allowed to grow and twist and tighten, and fluff up in the breeze. Gale caught the flash of silver at his collar and over the expanse of skin exposed down John’s chest. He still worse his tags then, and his dual crosses. Gale suddenly wanted to feel them in his hand, trace the familiar letters, press the crosses over John’s heart. He wore shorts, and the shirt covered much of the top of them it was so big.

And his feet were bare. No sandals. No boots. Just bare skin against the grass, toes flush against the springy growth.

John had been prioritising comfort, since they’d parted then. Gale wondered how badly he’d needed it, and if this was one of the only ways he’d been able to get it. God knows Gale had craved it himself, and been too ashamed to ask Marge for it, or let on even the slightest that he just wanted someone to be there. Who understood.

And Marge was many, glorious, wonderful things. But Gale was endlessly grateful that able to understand the horrors of war was not one of them.

“Buck?”

John’s voice wasn’t the strong, teasing drawl he’d known so well. He’d heard it change and shift through those brief phone calls, but here in person it was a different beast altogether.

There was a strain behind it, like there were things, so many things, he was keeping hidden behind the fragile barrier of that Buck. It reminded him of the Stalag, when Bucky had seemed so close to fracturing before he’d been able to knit himself together just enough to get them out.

Him. To get him out. John’d had to wait.

Again.

But Gale had enough of making John Egan wait for him.

“I’m here, John,” he said, taking slow but certain steps forward. He didn’t want to assume; it had been so long. But he was going to lay himself at John’s porch like a dog looking for a home, until he told him to leave. “M’sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot—of the highest order. But I’m here, now. And I…I don’t wanna leave. I’ll go if you want, but I don’t wanna, John. I—”

Gale had never seen John cry. Not when Curt went down. Not when they’d been reunited in the Stalag and torn apart in the Stalag. Not when they took their last flight from Thorpe Abbotts. Many men had cried, but not John.

But he was crying now.

His teeth were bared like something wounded, trying to ward off the helping hand out of fear. His head hung down like he was trying to hide, and he shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes, but there was no mistaking it. His chest jumped with silent sobs and tears dripped off his cheeks onto the ground.

“Oh, honey.” Gale was closing the distance between them, wrapping John up in his arms. He pressed one hand against the thick tumble of John’s curls at the back of his head so he could guide John into the crook of his neck. His other he pressed against John’s back, pulling him as close as they could get.

John tried to fight him. Gale didn’t blame him. He was well aware he had licks coming from John and he had to take them. And he would. But when John pushed he kept pulling. When John hit his back, puling the strength of his punches even now, Gale rubbed his.

When John said wetly into his neck, “No, Buck. No. What are you doing here? Get outta here. Marge.” Gale just shushed him and gave him a kiss to the head that caught the tip of his ear.

“Yes, John. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

[ilguna]

piano sessions with finnick odair and the song 'last man on earth' by anna bates please :D (i dont mind which direction you take it! prefferably not full angst tho hurt/comfort is fine)

☼ last man on earth (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, mass death mention, bombing mention, fire mention, and mention of prostitution.

wc; 2k

notes; Piano Sessions: songfic, Last Man on Earth by Anna Bates.

--

The Meadow is the only green place left inside of District Twelve, and it probably will be for a very long time. The Capitol bombing that took place several months ago wiped out—not only all the buildings—but the life that occupied it.

District Twelve is almost, quite literally, a ghost town.

It’s quiet, a welcome change from the constant buzz of voices that seem to echo through District Thirteen. Finnick would even go as far to say that it’s serene, but it’s inappropriate considering the mass loss of life. Which didn’t really dawn on him until the hovercraft had landed.

In Finnick’s defense, he wasn’t thinking about the whole situation regarding the district. In fact, in the beginning, when Plutarch initially suggested going back to Twelve to film propos as an option to Haymitch in the Control Room—Finnick couldn’t understand why he, and no one else, jumped at the opportunity to go back to their home.

Now that Finnick’s standing here, even from a distance, he can see that he made a huge mistake in thinking it would be easy for them. He’s been so fixated on the idea that they’re coming back home that he neglected to remember that it might not feel like that to them, anymore.

It’s his own homesickness getting to him. And he knows it. 

“Why didn’t Haymitch come along?” Katniss asks, coming down the ramp. She holds a hand over her eyes, squinting through the sunlight. 

Plutarch shakes his head, “He couldn’t face it.”

“Haymitch? Not able to face something? Wanted a day off, more likely.” Katniss remarks, stopping next to Finnick.

“I think his actual words were ‘I couldn’t face it without a bottle’.” Plutarch tells her.

Katniss rolls her eyes, tired of Haymitch and his drinking issue. He’s been doing well in District Thirteen lately, but that’s because he doesn’t have a choice. President Coin doesn’t leave room for argument when it comes to alcohol. Finnick made a joke about it, and he almost got crucified by Haymitch for it. 

Finnick’s made a lot of progress lately. He was predicted to stay in the hospital for a few additional weeks, until he made a bounce back. They were suspicious that he’d relapse into his undead-like state after he heard what’s been happening with his sweetheart in the Capitol. It never happened, so they let him out.

If they only knew how much of a struggle it was not to collapse in on himself when he saw her on the television screen. Her sunken skin, her tired eyes. She had a long cut across her cheekbone that’d recently been stitched. And it made him sick to think that it could’ve been inflicted by the people who once adored her.

“Let’s start with Katniss’s home.” Cressida instructs, and then motions out with one hand.

Gale takes the charge, marching forward out of the Meadow. Everyone else follows in a loose line, either walking side-by-side or on their own. Finnick chooses to be by himself at the rear, occasionally picking dandelions out of the grass to pluck the petals off of.

All it takes is about five minutes of walking through the former town for Finnick to feel the heaviness in his heart grow. Before now, he’s never been to a place that’s felt so soulless in his life. It’s impossible to ignore the tragedy or to pretend that it was a simple fire that raced through the town.

The ashes get kicked up by those in front of him, floating in the air, sticking to Finnick’s skin when he walks into the white cloud. He glances over his shoulder, watching as the flecks of grey slowly settle back onto the ground, ready for the next disturbance that passes by.

Finnick brushes his skin, but the dirty feeling doesn’t leave his hands.

When they finally get to Katniss’s house, the group is eerily silent. It’s not much of a house anymore, just a foundation of what used to be here. No real walls, just piles of brick that reach Finnick’s hip. No ceiling, which means no second floor, only a staircase that’s cut off in the middle. The only remnants of life are the damaged and burnt furniture, beyond salvageable.

Katniss leads the way right through her missing doorway, heading straight for the kitchen, where she stops. She stands there quietly for a few moments, and when she turns around, she raises her eyebrows at Cressida. “What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you feel like.”

Katniss’s face twists, unhappy with that answer. She turns away, looking at the marble countertops, and the splinters of the cupboards on the tile floor. She doesn’t say anything, and after a while, she stares at the sky, unmoving. 

Cressida only lets this go on for so long, because they’re in a time crunch. “That’s fine, Katniss. Let’s move on.”

From there, they take the walk all the way to Gale’s house, where he’s not given the same treatment as Katniss. Cressida lets him settle in for the first few minutes, but as soon as he pulls a twisted metal poker out of the ashes, it’s fair game. Finnick watches from the corner of the room as she pounces on him.

It starts with questions about his family; the names of his brothers and sisters. Information about his mother, how he lost his father. She asks about his job, how he worked in the mines as soon as he turned eighteen, whether or not he likes it. She moves on to life in the Seam, where Gale describes it as a community, and paints it in a good light, rather than focusing on the obvious terrible parts.

Once Cressida is done warming him up, she makes him recall the night of the firebombing, and then asks him to reenact it. It starts inside of his house, where he collected his family, proceeding to work his way out of the Seam and to the Meadow. That’s where most people gathered, and he took them through the fence, into the woods and out to the lake.

Katniss’s pace slows when she realizes that they’re actually going out to the lake. She doesn’t want to be seen on camera anymore, so she purposely hides herself behind the crew, until she’s as far back as Finnick. Her mouth is twisted, eyes on the grass, slightly shaking her head.

By the time they reach the lake, Gale is no longer speaking. Everyone is dripping in sweat, especially Castor and Pollux in their camera gear. Cressida calls for a break, allowing people to break off and approach the lake, wishing for cool water. Finnick is one of them, sitting at the edge of the lake, pulling his boots off.

The second his feet touch the water, all intentions of getting up and joining the others in the cement house leave his body. He rolls the pants of his jumpsuit up to his knees, scooting closer to let his calves soak, too.

Finnick’s only been in District Twelve for a couple of hours, and he’s confident enough to say that it’s haunted. Besides the fact that it’s clearly affecting Katniss and Gale, it’s weighing on him. All those who came from the Capitol don’t seem to care, or they’re hiding their disgust very well.

He was waiting for them to comment on the amount of decomposing bodies they tripped over inside the fences, yet their lips stayed sealed. And then the expectation came back harder when it was found out that there were more bodies outside of the fence, as well.

He doesn’t understand how they can be so indifferent, when even he is haunted by the idea of thousands of people trying to escape before the bombing. The amount of men, women and children that died on their way to the Meadow. How Gale worked his ass off to save the hundreds that did make it out alive. 

If he were Katniss, he’d be haunted by the memories of growing up inside of the district, knowing most—if not all—of the places and people she interacted with are now gone. Her home is ruin. Which makes her silence and refusal to participate in Cressida’s questioning appropriate. 

Finnick would do the same if he were in her shoes. Even Gale stonewalled Cressida after a certain point because of all the incessant questions. It’s almost disrespectful that she seems to have no regard for such a sensitive topic. All they care about is getting footage for the propos, thanks to Plutarch.

Who also came close to forcing Finnick to participate in this District Twelve segment. If it weren’t for Haymitch talking him out of it, reminding Plutarch that Finnick had filmed several parts for the We Remember series, Finnick would be talking about his friendship with Katniss or Peeta.

He wouldn’t mind doing that, of course. He would just have a hard time keeping his mind on track, when it’s wandering elsewhere. After spending this afternoon picturing himself in Katniss’s shoes, he’s in a dark place. Even if his family had not been wiped out by the bombing, it had been by Snow’s ruling. Both of which are caused by the Capitol.

It was the Sixty-Eighth Hunger Games. Finnick was sixteen, soon to turn seventeen, when President Snow had a private conversation with him regarding the prostitution. At the time, Finnick didn’t know that his refusal had consequences. He told Snow no, and was given no second chances, much less an option after that.

He remembers what it was like when he came home with Mags once their tributes had died. The looks on the faces of those at the train station. How he barely made it through the district before he was stopped and escorted to the Justice Building. There, he was promptly informed that his entire family had been involved in an accident and they were gone.

Finnick left his body. For months he felt like a ghost, looking in on someone else’s life. He felt so alone. He was surrounded by friends—the victors that helped him win—but they weren’t enough. They weren’t his mom, his dad, or his brother. They were nothing. 

For the longest time, he was filled with hopelessness, until it turned to anger. He wanted to do anything and everything to show them that they didn’t have power over him. He spent time at his family’s graves, talking to them, trying to get his head straight, telling them the plans.

He could leave District Four, by either stealing a boat or sneaking out of the fence and living in the woods. He knows he could survive that way, thanks to winning the Hunger Games. He could turn to white liquor, end up like another Haymitch, spend the next twenty years of his life drunk. That would make the whole Capitol situation easier to swallow.

Or he could wait until the next Hunger Games came around, go to the President’s Mansion to ‘talk to President Snow’, when really he’d wreak havoc. Shred his suits, stomp on his roses, throw his jewelry out of the large windows. He could find a fire poker to take to the windows, fly a hovercraft into the building to watch it explode.

He couldn’t have gotten away with it at the time, and he knew that then, which is why he didn’t go through with any of it. He came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t float out to the sea. He’d watch and see what else life had to offer, before making a final decision. Which was the better choice at the time.

If he’d gone, he would never have met you, the love of his life.

It’s a bittersweet thought right now, mainly for the fact that you’re not beside him. You can’t be, because the Capitol has their hands on you. And he’s terrified that they’ll take you away from him at any moment. Just one wrong move, and you could be on the receiving end of a punishment, and god forbid it ends with you losing your life.

That’d be the end of the last man of District Four.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[therealslimshakespeare]

Here to beg for smutty Gale and Maureen thoughts 🙏🏻🙏🏻 I love those two

Oh Nonnie, I’ve got a whole one shot charted out that i think you’ll enjoy immensely. Oh how I need time to write! However, let me give you this little backstory.

Our girl Maureen was sulking very hard over not being cool enough to be a pilot -those were the credentials as far as she could see- and having not applied herself very well to her arithmetic as a child, she was having some trouble even cutting it even as a bombardier. It was training, she went through a few crews, there were reshuffles, there were people getting nixed and people getting added and out of the fog came one pilot who actually had been at this longer than five seconds.

And he looked like that. He sounded like that. He took himself so seriously like that she wanted to bite him. And Maureen, I’m sorry to say, had been an excellent trophy hunter of men and exotic game only a few peacetime months ago and just because a war was on, she’d experienced no change of inclination.

She tried to buy him a drink. Got turned down. Allowed the petulance she felt for the whole situation to simmer over and fully had a little cry while he sat on the barstools begging her to understand it wasn’t her he was refusing but the liquor. She bought him a ginger ale instead.

And she called him by it every time after seeing how it made him squirm. Like a little boy getting his head pat for being ever so “good.” To Gale this was a pure mindfuck and one he was pretty sure came from him not yet adjusting to integrated life. Something about the way he lost all his bearings around her, admired things he used to hold in contempt when she exhibited them, and even ended up looking forward to a run in with her like some masochistic fool hopes he trips up and gets lashed for it.

When they start more training runs together, he ends up taking her far more seriously. He had to chew her out the first flight -in that horrible and measured way of his that’s so much worse than a yell- about her clumsiness. She cited her new bombsight as the issue, he called her an ignorant little wall flower without enough math skills. Maureen knew when not to cry, and this was one of those times so instead she just asked for help, and there’s nothing Gale Cleven is so susceptible to as the chance for helping people. Maureen also went back to her bunk after that dressing down and rubbed herself off furiously to the recollection of his intensity and the firmest hand she’d ever been shown.

By England they have become expected to be seen together, not in the way of Bucky and Buck or even Ida and Egan, but rather like Blakely and Douglass. Gale has somewhere along the way list count of the number of jeep rides he’s had to put her hands out of his lap and back in hers. That’s another thing he’s not sure how he allowed, technically he didn’t but she kept disobeying and he has dreams -actual dreams!- of taking her over his knee and dishing out a few smacks her father didn’t see fit to give that pert little ass in her flysuits.

He tells Bucky that once, thinking it a safe and generic thought. Bucky howls over it and places a bet on how soon Maureen’s hand stays in his lap and how soon Buck repays her with a handprint to her derrière.

All this while flying missions. It’s a bit fucked, and sometimes they admittedly both haven’t got much left for this nonesense, the skies take it out of them. Although Maureen would best like to combat those blues by having a man between her legs, and somehow, it feels moderately untrue to Gale to just hop on the next one even though she does from time to time. The way he seems either clueless or unsurprised by it is excruciating.

It makes her have a very venomously honest chat with him once when her courage is sufficiently liquified and he’s got no mission tomorrow. She asks if he loves Bucky instead and the man about swallows his tongue. “I’d understand-“ she’s very firm about it while Gale protests too much. The short of it is some admittance to not being in the market for girlfriends while fighting a war, the fact a kiss between them could get both court marshaled and well, yes, maybe what he needs he gets from his friendship with Bucky. He’s never been in love before and does she really expect him to suddenly learn to do it both ways?

She does. Even after telling him quite strongly that if her were to ask, Bucky would give that friendship to him “both ways”. Which is another topic to get court marshaled about and Gale says goodnight….After having let her chew on his earlobe an indefinite amount of time while she was suggesting this filth. He ends up back in the showers doing what used to be an occasional self care and is now and almost nightly occurrence.

And then. Egan is drunk, Candy is drunk, Biddick is drunk. One of them asks get to punched so they can feel something. One is reluctant as that’s a crazy ass thing to ask. The other is delighted at the opportunity to do so with no repercussions.

And that’s how Maureen badly hurts her hand on Bucky Egan’s face. While Egan goes to meet the new CO, a little knocked about and mildly dazed, Maureen gets hauled to the base hospital by Gale to get those busted knuckles sorted. It’s not a dire emergency, not even worthy of taking staff away from those who need it -this Maureen insists and maybe the staff agrees as after Cleven tells them he’s looking for gauze and antiseptic, they tell him it’s in the back room, have at it major.

And while back there, watching his intent little face cleaning her cuts and his voice gently berating her foolishness and also admiringly asking how she learned to punch like that -she tells him,

“Did you know I’m ambidextrous?”

And that’s how Gale Cleven got his first handjob in the backroom of the hospital.



[thesweetnessofspring]

In my upcoming project The Huntress and the Beast, Prim was never reaped and Peeta became the sole victor of the 74th Games, earning the nickname "the Beast." Ostracized by society after a horrifying incident at the end of the war solidified his nickname, Peeta retreats to live on the mountainside alone. Years later, Katniss takes a position to live with Peeta and eat dinner with him each night for one year, partly to make up for the bread that saved her family and partly to escape Gale's marriage proposal. Each chapter is one month of this year, as Everlark grow together and build a home.

Or, an Everlark "Beauty and the Beast" retelling.

Leading up to the release of the first chapter, I'm going to be posting a snippet each Wednesday, one for each month of the year. Today's snippet is from the Chapter Two: January/February. The first chapter will be released on January 1, 2025. See other released snippets here.

Read the snippet below:

While he sleeps, I explore around a little more inside. It starts innocently enough by trying to get a better lay of the kitchen and turns into perusing a bookshelf. Cookbooks and baking, books on house repairs, huge glossy pages of artwork. Then a plain black one with a soft leather cover that holds no title. Curious, I open the book and see four dead people staring back at me. Peeta’s parents, his brothers, and Peeta when he was about five or so. I turn the pages and see a few more of his family. His parents’ wedding picture, a trio of blond babies, and every few years all five posed and staring back at me like ghosts. His oldest brother’s wedding photo. The first person to join the album that isn’t a Mellark is the late Haymitch Abernathy. In the picture, Haymitch embraces Peeta after he’d won the Games. The first person who is still alive, as far as I know, is the escort, Effie. She holds her arms around a polished-up Peeta, smiling with all of her teeth. A photo of the now-dead stylists for District 12 posed together, looking solemn and knowing. Pictures from what looks to be a Capitol party with bright colors and piles and piles of food, but I know all of these faces as other Victors and most are dead. Finnick Odair, part of the squad that violently killed innocent civilians and burned to death himself. Cashmere and Gloss, a pair of siblings from One, killed by the rebels under suspicion of spying for the Capitol. In one shocking photo, Johanna Mason flashes her breasts at the camera while Peeta’s head tilts back in laughter. My cheeks burn and I wonder why Johanna Mason isn’t here to keep Peeta company if that’s the type of relationship they have. She did survive the war. About half of the album is blank and none of it includes pictures during or after the war. Not a single picture of Peeta as he is now: long-haired and with ribboned pink and red scars where his beard should be. I doubt any happy images of him as he looks now exist. After the war, coverage of him had always had him looking in constant distress and disbelief and only Haymitch Abernathy had stood by him then. Anyone else who might have was dead.

The Huntress and the Beast comes out January 1, 2025

[redlittlefoxari]

To The Ends Of Faêrun : Chapter one: Happy Little Family

This is series two of a fic I have already written.

Master List

Relationship: Astarion x Tav

Warnings: Blood, Sex, Violence, NSFW 18+, Smut

Summary: The year is 1548 it’s fifty-six years after Tav and Astarion defeated the elder brain with their rag-tag group of friends. So much has changed since then Astarion changed careers and is now a tailor while Tav runs the counter. While their daughter attends Gale’s School of Wizardry. That's right their daughter. Everything is going smoothly until something dark threatens to destroy all of Faerûn and it's up to Astarion, Tav, and their Daughter to stop it from happening.

Being a parent to a Dhampir was not the easiest thing in the world. Over the last six years, Tav and Astarion had their fair share of ups and downs when it came to raising Apple, Starting at only eight months old when, after a short nap, Apple had decided that playing on the ceiling was better than waiting in her crib for Tav and Astarion to wake. A simple message to Gale to get some perspective on Apple's new magical abilities and simple solutions before something could indeed be done about them. Apple was only an infant, so her magical abilities were more challenging to control; she did not have the sense of self to know what she was doing. So until then, if she was going down for a nap or Tav or Astarion would have their eyes off of her for longer than a few seconds, a long piece of string was attached to Apple's clothes, and she was then effectively turned into a balloon.

Everything came to a head, however, when, at age four, Apple was having trouble making friends in the neighborhood, so she summoned a fairy from the Faewild, and between the two of them, no closed door could keep them contained, nor would they keep them out. It all seemed harmless until they started playing tricks on anyone and everyone around them, which made others in the neighborhood anything but happy. So when Apple was four, Gale received another message via a sending spell begging him for help, and now there was a permanent portal in the downstairs lining closet that led straight to Waterdeep and vice versa. A year later, Apple was enrolled in Gale's wizard school for gifted children, and Tav now found most of her days, from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon five times a week, empty and devoid of Apple. Despite Apple being a sorceress and not a wizard, no one seemed to care in her class, and everything she learned helped her understand her magic.

Astarion had opened a small tailor shop out of the back room of the manor house they had acquired the day Apple was born, and for the most part, Tav manned the front desk while Astarion took clients and fitted them. He seemed genuinely happy with how his life turned out. Astarion now had a real family, not something forced together as the one Cazador had made, where they were brother and sister in name only. This family he chose was something he cultivated and nurtured over the years, filled with nothing but love and devotion.

Tav sometimes felt horrible for how she felt as she looked at how happy Astarion was where they both were, with their beautiful daughter and thriving business. It just felt like everyone had something but her. Everything was doing something, and she became a housewife and mother. Tav sometimes missed the feeling of blood in her hair, hearing an arrow fly through the air, and the sound it made when it hit its target. She loved Astarion and Apple dearly and wouldn't trade anything for what she had now; she sometimes missed the life she had before. She missed being an adventurer.

"You look amazing."

Astarion's voice woke Tav up from her daydream of years gone by. She looked up to see Astarion walking someone out of the back room. The man was dressed head to toe in a new suit Astarion had made specifically for him. On the front, beads of sapphire, jade, and ruby had been sewin in by hand in an intercept design. From where Tav sat behind the counter, it looked like flowers, but she wasn't paying enough attention to care. All that mattered was that Astarion and the customer liked it. What she thought of it didn't matter.

The customer was a large, dark-skinned man who was a part of the small consul of Baldur's Gate. Tav didn't recognize him and only vaguely remembered Astarion telling her he had booked a client off the consul. Saying that it was for a midsummer's party, they would be attending and that it would require a lot of beadwork. Tav was excited for Astarion; it was the first time someone from the upper city had requested a suit from him. The amount for the suit alone was enough for them to take several months off. Not that Astarion would since he had found a genuine love for his work now that his days of adventuring were behind him.

"I think this might be your best work, Astarion." The customer looked at himself in a mirror, and Astarion stood behind the glass so he wouldn't notice the missing reflection. "How do you manage to get such intercept designs?"

"Years of practice. I am an Elf, so I have the time." Astarion gave a little bow. "If you pay upfront, you can wear it out; My wife will help you at the counter."

The man looked Tav over with an assessing stare. Going over every part he could see. Tav quickly looked for something to do in order to make herself look busy and not as if she was simply doing nothing but keeping the counter in place. In a way, she was only sitting at the front counter to give herself something to do, not attributing to the business other than taking coins and maybe reading in her downtime.

"I wish I had been born an Elf." He pulled out his coin purse and proceeded to walk over to Tav. "You get all the perks; you only have to sleep a few hours, live for hundreds of years, and stay young longer than any of us."

"Maybe you'll get lucky, and when you die fat and happy, you'll be resurrected as something with a little longer life span." Astarion moved behind the counter with Tav. "Though you seem to be making the most out of this one already."

"I would still like more time; my life must seem like a drop in a bucket to you." He placed the purse down on the counter. "It's all there and a little extra for such beautiful work."

"Until next time." Astarion picked up the pouch, assessing its weight as he did.

"Oh, I will definitely be requiring your services again." The man turned. "And I'll be sure everyone at the party knows just who to go to if they want to look as fabulous as I will be."

The councilman walked out, strutting every step, dripping with confidence. Tav thought he wouldn't last more than ten minutes walking down the street in a suit beaded with gems. Surly, some thug or cutthroat would have it off him the second he walked down an ally or crossed into the slightest shadow.

Tav looked at Astarion, who looked like a cat who had caught a particular juicy rat. His lips were perfectly composed into a practiced smile that oozed trust, but his eyes were sharp, focused, and assessing. He likely thought the same thing Tav did and was betting on it. Hoping that the councilmen would come back begging for another suit and Astarion would oblige for double the price.

"He's going to get the crap beat out of him for that jacket," Tav said what they both thought.

"Oh, most definitely." Astarion purred as he spoke. "And that's precisely why I made a second suit, and when he comes back, I'm going to act like it's a huge inconvenience." A sly smile broke across his face. "So much so that he'll offer me extra just for my time."

"You're so cruel." Tav turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "But that's one of the things I love about you."

"It's not my fault he chose to put a target on his back." Astarion snaked his hands around her waist. "A man like that will always let his pride get the better of him."

"I guess it doesn't hurt that after you so graciously make him a new one, he'll be more inclined to tell people about you." Tav gave him a small smile.

"Exactly!" He leaned down, placing a kiss on Tav's head.

Tav pushed up on the balls of her feet to extend her reach, kissing his lips gently. Astarion returned the kiss, pulling her flush against him to deepen the kiss. Her lips parted slightly, inviting him in, and he obliged her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, leaving nothing unexplored. Tav felt heat flush into her body, pooling deep in her core. A moan escaped as she felt Astarion harden against her, a promise of what was to come.

He broke the kiss, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and biting gently. Tav moved her hands into Astarion's hair, weaving them in before tugging at his soft white curls. It was Astarion's turn to moan as his head dipped back slightly, leaning into the tug. Tav took advantage of his now exposed neck as she planted a soft kiss near his jugular. A gasp escaped his lips as Tav's kiss quickly turned into a gentle bite.

"I don't think I have another client for the rest of the day." Astarion's voice was breathy as he spoke. "What do you say to going up to our bed and having a little fun?"

"Whatever could you mean." Tav moved her lips around his neck, teasing him as she placed soft feather-light kisses on his exposed throat.

"You know exactly what I mean." Astarion moved his hands to cup Tav's face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Now, don't play dumb, or I'll have to show you what I mean right here where anyone could walk in and see."

"Well, when you put it that way." She gave him a wicked smile. "I wouldn't want anyone to see and get jealous."

"No, we wouldn't want that." Astarion gave Tav a rough, demanding kiss. "They would need to pay for it first, at least."

Tav chuckled as she thought about someone walking in on them. She was not interested in being watched in the slightest, but the thought still made her heart race. Moments like these were rare. Offend times took place in the dead of night when they thought that Apple wouldn't be awake to hear them and on days when Astarion wasn't exhausted after filling orders and stitching all day. It had gotten so bad that they had to plan out days in advance when they would have sex. Tav often missed the feel of his fingers caressing her body or the feeling of his lips on her neck. Their lives had changed in so many ways. Having to plan when they would have sex was never something she would have imagined. So when days like this happened, Tav was all but gitty with excitement.

Their passion was cut short when a crackle of magic filled the air, signaling the arrival of Apple coming home from her day at school. Astrarion let out a sigh before moving away from Tav, giving her a look that let her know they would continue where they left off later. Tav blew him a kiss in confirmation before turning away and slowly making her way to the linen closet. Astarion stayed behind the counter as he waited for his arousal to quiet down.

Apple burst through the door holding a small black book bag, a large smile plastered on her face. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in her parents, practically vibrating with excitement. That's how it was most days when she came back from school with her uncle Gale. She had a thirst for knowledge, and since she started at Gale's academy, her hunger only grew. She was a second year, which was noted by the patch sewn onto her breast pocket. The green patch matched her eyes and went nicely with the dark brown of the robe.

As the students aged, the color of the robes would change, and since Apple was still in the youngest block, she got to wear the plainest robe color. In a few years, she would move to blue, then purple, before finaly, in her final years, she would be able to choose her own clothes. Since then, she would be an adult and thus able to go off on her own technically. But Tav didn't want to think that Apple was still her baby girl and would stay that way for a long time.

"Mommy!" Apple bounced toward Tav as if she were a rabbit. "Guess what Uncle Gale had us do today!?"

"What would that be love?" Tav crouched down to get down on her level to talk.

Apple wrapped her arms around Tav's neck, nearly knocking her over as she crashed into her, too excited to temper her excitement. Tav kept her footing as she hugged Apple tightly, placing her hands behind her head to touch her soft white curls.

Apple looked more and more like Astarion every day; there was no mistaking whose child she was. Her curls swept down past her shoulders and fell in delicate rings. Despite her eyes being a deep emerald green accented with gold flecks, the shape of them was the same as her father's. Tav had to look hard to find anything that resembled her in her own daughter, and even then, she was growing up so fast even those things changed.

"Watch this mommy." Apple took a step away from Tav to ready herself for casting magic.

Tav pursed her lips together as she watched Apple stick out her tongue in concentration and shimmy her shoulders. The little sorceress closed her eyes and chanted the incantation she had learned today, only stumbling a little at the end of her sentence. Within seconds, lights appeared around her, dancing around her in a circle. Tav knew that with this spell now in Apple's repertoire, she would surely use it to stay up late and read under her covers at night. This was not the end of the world, but Tav knew it would lead to a grumpy Apple the following day.

"That is amazing, sweetheart!" Tav clapped her hands together. "Why don't we celebrate you learning a new spell by letting you choose what we will have for dinner?"

"Really! Anything I want?"

The gold in Apple's eyes glowed like stars at the thought of her getting to choose dinner. Tav heard Astarion's footsteps approaching from behind and turned to face him. He had a look of awe on his face. Not from the spell. It was one of the simplest spells that could be done, but he was in awe of his daughter. Every time he looked at her, he got a glimpse of his own face, something he hadn't seen in over two hundred years.

"Anything you want, darling, I will make." Astarion smiled.

"Can I have shepherd's pie?" Apple ran so that she nearly stepped on Astarion's feet and craned her neck to look up at him.

"Of course, we'll need to go and buy the ingredients." Astarion picked Apple up so that she was dangling in front of him. "Would you like to come with me?"

"Yes!"

"Will you be coming with us, love?" Astarion looked at Tav, who had turned to watch the exchange.

"Well, of course!" Tav moved to tickle Apple. "Once our little sorceress goes and changes out of her school clothes."

Apple was helpless as Tav's fingers found their mark. Moving up and down her sides, causing her to break out in uncontrollable laughter.

"Stop it, mommy! I'll get changed! I promise." Apple tried and failed to get Tav to stop. "Daddy, help me!"

"I'll Save you." Astarion spun and placed Apple on the ground. "Now hurry and change. I can only hold your mother back for so long!"

Astarion moved to embrace Tav, trying his best to make it look as if he was genuinely restraining her and not just holding her tightly against him. Tav played along, pretending as if his embrace trapped her. Mock struggled as if she was trying to break free.

"Thanks, Dad; keep her like that till I get back!" Apple retreated towards the stairs in the other room.

"Oh, I won't be letting her go, my sweet little Apple!" He shouted over his shoulder. "Not until I am delighted, at least." He whispered the last part so Apple wouldn't hear, but Tav indeed could.

"I Don't think we have time to satisfy you truly." Tav gave him a seductive smile. "She'll be back down in just a few minutes, and we both know you're not that quick."

"Then we better make it count." Astarion moved to the shell of Tav's ear. "For now, I'll just give you a taste of what is yet to come."

A shiver ran down Tav's spine. "Just kiss me, you beautiful fool."

"That's all?" Astarion moved his lips until they were nearly touching Tav's. "I would have thought you'd have a more vivid imagination."

"I do, but we don't have the time," Tav growled out her following words. "But I'll be sure to show you just how vivid my imagination is tonight."

Astarion chuckled. "I'm looking forward to that."

He finally touched Tav's, kissing her softly as they both listened for Apple's footsteps.

It took Apple fifteen minutes to choose from her massive wardrobe and come downstairs. Astarion had been busy over the years, making her dresses, pants, tunics, and whatever else he could think of. She was the best-dressed child in the neighborhood. Maybe even in all of Baldur's Gate.

The three of them went to the shops they needed to get the ingredients for the shepherd's pie Apple had asked for. They stopped by the butcher Alphones to pick up the ground lamb and a few jars of blood. Apple was nearly drooling at the sight of blood, and Tav quickly took the jars and headed outside. From there, they bought the rest of the vegetables on the way home, and Astarion and Tav set to peeling, chopping, and preparing for dinner while Apple read from her textbook.

After an hour or so, dinner was ready. Astarion poured himself and Apple a glass of blood while Tav made her and Apple a plate. The food smelled delicious, and Tav felt her mouth watering in anticipation of the meal she was about to devour. Apple sat across from Tav, and Astarion sat to Tav's left at the head of the table. Silence fell across the table as the meal started to be consumed.

"Oh!" Apple broke the silence after cleaning her plate. "I forgot to tell you the most exciting part of the day!"

"Learning a new spell wasn't at the top?" Astarion took a sip of his glass. "I'm surprised."

"Did something funny happen?" Tav stopped eating to listen to Apple speak, giving her full attention to her child.

"No, Urdrar told me he's going to get to be a big brother!" Apple was nearly standing in her seat.

Tav knew that Urdrar was a Dwarf and that he was Apple's best friend in her class. He had visited the portal several times with Apple for play dates, but Tav had never met his parents. Urdrar was a nice enough child, polite, and didn't like getting into trouble; unlike Apple, it almost seemed like trouble followed her wherever she went. She could often get the small, stocky, dwarven boy to do almost anything, taking advantage of his small frame to squeeze into all places. Being excited for her best friend made sense, but Tav could sense there was more to this excitement than just being happy for her friend.

"That's exciting for Urdrar." Tav looked at Astarion, who was still sipping on his glass.

"Yeah! But I was just wondering." Apple looked away from Tav's gaze.

There it is, Tav thought.

"Could I have a baby brother or sister?"

Astarion nearly choked on his blood at the words that came out of Apple's mouth. Tav got up from her seat to rub soothing circles on his back till he was no longer choking on the blood that had entered his lungs. It took a few more seconds before Astarion answered her question. Having a hard time finding the words to say.

"It is more difficult than just going to the store and picking a baby out, darling." Astarion turned to look at Tav, pleading for help with his eyes.

"He's right, dear. It's… complicated." Tav struggled to find the words.

"Why?" Apple knitted her brows together. "How do you get a baby then?"

Tav's heart felt like it was pounding against her chest. “Well… ummm… That's something only grown-ups get to know."

"Why?" Apple placed one hand on her hip. "What do you have to do?"

"We'll tell you when you are older, but not now." Astarion looked as if he was going to die all over again. "Why don't you go wash up and study? Your mom and I need to talk."

"Are you going to talk about how to make a baby?" Apple didn't move.

"No honey, we already know how to make a baby." Astarion smiled. "We don't need to talk about how it's done."

"Astarion!" Tav turned red.

"What? I didn't say anything." He stood, grabbing Apple's plate as he did. "Now go, Apple, I'll come up in a little while to read you a bedtime story."

"Ooookaaaay." Apple elongated the word as she rose from her seat and headed towards the stairs.

Tav and Astarion waited until they thought Apple was no longer within range to hear the conversation that they were about to have. The room was silent and thick with anticipation, both waiting for the other to speak.

"Well, we should probably clean up, huh?" Tav grabbed her plate and started making her way to the kitchen.

"Tav? It's not like we haven't discussed this before." Atsrion followed behind her.

"I know, but now she's asking about it." Tav let out a long sigh. "How do you tell a six-year-old I'm sorry, mommy and Daddy can't give you a brother or sister because having you was a miracle in itself, and it's a long shot if it ever happens again."

"Well, I think, just like that." Astarion placed the plate he was holding in the sink. "It's not like it's impossible; we've done it before."

"By accident!" Tav whirled around so that she was face to face with Astarion. "It was blind luck that I got pregnant the first time, and you know that being an elf makes it even harder."

Astarion grabbed Tav by the shoulders and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "I know, but it doesn't hurt to try." Astarion smiled. "Gives us more of an excuse to… practice."

"I suppose we can read the paper for any elves that have died recently, or maybe there is a tea or potion that helps elves conceive." Tav smiled at Astarion despite feeling like she was going to throw up. "I mean, Drow have whole families; maybe they know something we don't."

"There we go!" Astarion wrapped his arms around Tav, pulling her into a tight embrace. "This time, we'll do some research that should make things easier."

"Yeah." Tav hugged Astarion back. "Easier..."

—————————————————

Tag list: @ofmyth-andmagicart @lunaredgrave @littlekidsteve @omnia--mea-mecum-porto @ayselluna @myreadingmanga123 @kismet-of-the-divine @nicalysm @justlilpeaches21 @five-salty-bitters @lenarosic88 @caydevakarian @supervrgnsokay-blog @ravenswritingroom @kalypsoox @foxiecelery @wisteriaofthegraves

[bcolfanfic]

~ person a and person b staying up so late to talk to each other without even paying attention to the time. and then they fall asleep on the phone with each other ~

this on “mutual crush prompt list” but was wondering if we could change it up a little bit for angst purposes and make it so its the first work trip buck has to take months after bucky’s suicide attempt so they’re on the phone all night.

my babiess. for new-to-me folks, this is based off my young veterans modern au- specifially this fic.

---

John unlocked his phone, relocked and unlocked it again, squinting at the brightness before he swiped up to lower it.

10:50

He'd talked to Gale four hours ago and they'd said their goodnights then. It was even later in New York- almost one in the morning to be exact.

Gale was probably asleep or getting close to it, and John didn't want to call him. Wanted to let him rest before he had to go be in academic mode all day, wanted to prove to himself just as much as his husband that he could get through a night alone.

But the longer he laid in the dark the itchier he felt.

There was something in a flask under the mattress that would take the itch away without waking Gale- the only thing keeping him from it being how tired he was down to the bone. Too tired to lift the mattress.

He swiped open to Gale's contact and pressed the small phone icon, sucking in the right side of his cheek.

It barley rang twice before he picked up.

"Hey hon," He said softly, and if he hadn't been asleep he sounded like he was getting pretty close to it. "Everything okay?"

"Mhm." John said, letting his cheek back out with a small exhale. "Sorry if I woke you."

"Don't be. But you know I gotta ask again. You okay?"

Gale Gale Gale. Ever the perceptive one.

"Don't wanna make you feel guilty for going." He said quietly, eyes fixated on a thread coming loose in their comforter. He hated that he could feel his eyes starting to sting. Being vulnerable was still, as his therapist referred to it a skill there was room for progress on.

Whether he knew somewhere in his head that Gale needed no prompting to feel hesitant about going to this conference was irrelevant. John had practically had to push him through the automatic doors of the airport terminal when he'd dropped him off, but guilt clawed at him anyways.

"Hey- no." Gale said on the other end, and John could hear him sitting up a little. "Not gonna do that, so tell me what's going on?"

"Just miss you." He said. "I'm not feeling bad y'know?" He continued, opting for a euphuism- not wanting to say the words that'd be needed to spell it out exactly out loud. "Just weird being alone I guess. I dunno."

It was quiet for a moment, like it always got when Gale figured he might have more to say when he actually did.

"Think you might be able to get some sleep if I stay on the line till you're out?" He said finally, so tender for someone who had to be up in just about five hours that it made John's chest tight.

"Don't have to do that." John replied, predicting the protest he got before it left Gale's mouth.

"Yeah, well I want to- so let me? Can bore you to sleep with physics gibberish."

A small, tired, laugh escaped John at that as he rolled back down onto his stomach, resting his phone on Gale's side of the bed. "'kay," He said, voice half muffled by his pillow. "I'm all ears."

Gale kept to his promise in regard to the psychics talk, and even when it was saying a whole lot of things that he'd still struggle to understand fully awake, his voice made John's chest warm. Made his shoulders feel like they could actually relax, the itch shedding off just enough for him to let sleep pull him under.

[letters-from-dekarios]

{ After he was met with his affliction, Gale withdrew himself into his tower for a year. With only Tara for company, and bless her - she tried her best, the wizard drowned in guilt and shame. After the first few weeks, the incessant sending spells died down, after some months, colleagues stopped coming by, safe for only a few friends and his mother. Around that time he stopped checking for mail too. It didn't matter anymore.

Safe to say, Gale was unprepared when the sky suddenly darkened and before he could react, he was plucked right from the ground and taken by the nautilod. But his unexpected adventure served to be quite enlightening and he returned to Waterdeep as a happier and healthier man. He comes back to his home to find his mailbox absolutely flooded. He's got some mucking out to do.

Beneath all the letters of concerned, confused and even some angered colleagues and acquaintances, as well as archmage business, he finds a rather surprising set of letters penned by an old friend from his time at the Blackstaff Academy : Theofiel Rivershade.

A timid but sociable half-elf. The two of them lived parallel to each other in the first few years there, same friends and mentors but somehow never crossing paths. Until they began nursing a quiant friendship after Gale needed help in hunting down a set of very rare and old books by an author that was as sound of mind as he was known : barely.

But after a while of idle comradery, Theofiel, who was quite studious and hardworking, a trait Gale admired as he was more of the sleep-in-class-but-ace-the-test kind of guy, became.. unmotivated and sluggish. And as he attended the Academy less and less until completely dropping out, Gale never truly knew what had become of his formerly bright and curious friend apart from rumors that he had fallen on quite hard times with his health.

And now, four letters lay before the wizard on the coffee table. He brewed himself some tea in the meantime as he opens the first letter. The date was about five months after he'd secluded himself from the world. The second letter was sent eight months in. The thrid was nine months and the last just recently, about a few weeks ago when he was still in the midst of his quest to safe Faerun.}

⚝─⭒⭑⭒─⚝

1st letter : Warm greetings, Gale Dekarios

Or Gale of Waterdeep, if you prefer it. It's a quite imposing and deserved title, after all.

I know you haven't heard of me in a long time, and I hope you'll forgive me for it. But I have heard of you in the meantime. And while what I usually hear fills me with a content warmth in my chest, it has recently begun to feel colder and tense.

I do wish you well with what has been ailing you. You should know that I'll always be an open ear, like in good old times.

~ Best of wishes, Theofiel Rivershade

2nd letter : Greetings Gale Dekarios,

I know my concern might be of little comfort or significance to you, I admit it's been a while and in our brief friendship I don't think we ever talked about the plights that weighed on our souls. I know I never did. Perhaps I should have, and then we could have ended up more closely acquainted and I would have come to visit instead of sending letters.

But alas, I can't help being concerned, I always am. And if I learned one thing back then, it's that it's always worth trying. So I hope you're taking care of yourself, Gale. I hope you have someone with you.

~ Be well, Theofiel Rivershade

3rd letter : judging by the slightly skewed writing and the spelling mistakes, it must've been written either in the late hours of the night, while drunk, or both.

Greatings Gale Dekraiu

Theres an very uneasy feeling that has been playging me for a while now because the longer yur silence stretchs, the harder it bites down in me somewere. Like a fly trap but more big. I don't know what is hapening to you but I keep thinking about how similar it is to when I dropped out of the Acadeny. They say it's like you steppd into the shadows, or you are just drowning yourselv in research. But I have a bad feeling, I don't know. When I shut away it was because I was tired. Everyting was exsohsting. I felt a fire in me dying out. I felt like I was rotting slowly away and something eating me from inside. So I hid away to rot in peace. I was ashamed. But you were never exhasting to me, you know? It was easy with yu. But learning wasn't. I'm sorry. I'm not asking you to reply, it's still not my plase to do so. This is my last letter, I don't want to bofher you anymore. I hope you are okey.

At the bottom of the page was a sentence scribbled out, but he could still make out the words : "You've always been someone special to me, even after all these years."

~ Theo

4th letter : Warm greetings, Gale Dekarios

You've always been a common topic in my circles but now you're a topic everywhere it seems. I can't express to you how relieved I was when I heard you reappeared, be it quite far from here, and that you were with company. Fighting for the greater good.

I assume you are doing better. I hope so.

I apologize for my previous letters. There's nothing I can really say for myself except that I have a bad case of 'being a worrywart'. You may discard them if you so please. I think that's for the best.

I'm wishing you lots of luck for your quest and with yourself. All of Waterdeep has faith in you. Me as well. Keep your new friends close, they'll be good for you.

All I want is for you to be okay, happy if I dare say so. This letter is actually my last, I promise.

~ Sincerely, Theo Rivershade

⚝─⭒⭑⭒─⚝

( I'm so glad this blog exists. I've been very nervous about writing here but finally got over myself xD

I imagine the relationship between Gale and Theofiel never got explicitly romantic, but they did have moments that sometimes felt like it would become more, but neither of them acted on it. They got along, but never deeply knew each other but it still felt weird to go from a pleasant friendship to complete silence from Theo's side. But it happens.

I hope this wasn't too long though, I'm sorry °~°)

Dearest Theo,

I apologize for not writing you sooner. Time has gotten the best of my mind, even now but more upon the initial sending of your letters. As I sort through the piles of untouched words from friends much like you, it is only then I see how much I truly missed out on. As you may have deduced, I spent little time outside my tower for some time. I will admit to my isolation, but there is far more to it than that simple word.

Regardless, I’d like to address everything in each letter you sent me. As busy as my mind is, I cannot shake the feeling of losing out on something by not taking it all in. You must know how I recognize every letter you planted into these pages, or I fear my mind may give out.

It’s common knowledge that yes, again, I had isolated myself for a while. A year, to be exact. Given your standing as a friend, I’ll be honest in also admitting that I was not doing well. I’m not quite sure how far the grapevine went, but I was shunned by Mystra for… well, I’m not sure where I stand with her now despite it all, but it was a while. A long while. I was selfish and stupid, qualities I am not proud of holstering at that time. But, alas, young minds and a desire for greatness are not always the best combination. Thankfully, though I was not taking the greatest care of myself, I had my Tressym, Tara. You may remember her, do you? I’m sure if I mentioned your name she would have plenty to say.

Worry naught! After a year of sulking and withering away, Tara found the solution to my needs. And, now, those needs are gone. Replaced with ones that are much more fulfilling to the soul, I can happily say I am an entirely new man! As you also may have heard, being infected with tadpoles and nearly transforming into a Mindflayer does change a person.

Theo, dear Theo… I’m not sure where to begin with your third letter. Your drunken worry brings a feeling to the heart I cannot begin to name. While I try to keep this letter more lighthearted, I cannot help but feel akin to what you described. Just the same, I locked myself away with the intent to… pass away, silently. I’m not sure why. I had everything, yet nothing at all- isn’t that odd? I often reminisced on my relationships with people of my past, you included. I knew that if I just asked, you’d extend your hand to help. Shit, you wrote to me all that time. I feel a fool for not replying sooner- for not easing your concern sooner. Now I ramble here, hoping for an answer to the questions I had back then. I don’t wish to put this on you, as aforementioned I’d like to keep it light.

But, Theo, you were special to me, too. I believe you still are.

I can reassure you now, though. I am doing significantly better than I had been. Please, do not apologize for your former concern. You had every right. It is I who should be apologizing for leaving you to worry in silence. I promise to do as you ask, it’s certainly part of my plan for the future.

I’m not sure where you consider me, after all this time of silence, but I hope I can still be considered a friend. I still think of you as one, truly.

Perhaps we can meet sometime to reminisce over the past and catch up on what we’ve each missed. I’d enjoy that. Though, the trip to Waterdeep is a long one. Perhaps our correspondence can make up that time for now.

Tell me, Theo, how are you? Are you taking care of yourself? I hope you are. How are your studies nowadays? I never had the heart to ask how you were after you left, for fear of rubbing my success in your face. I hope you don’t hate me for that.

I’d hate to kill the pigeon who carries this letter from the weight of my words, so I shall end it here.

Thank you, for all of it. It calms my mind to know that I am surrounded by those who care. I used to believe I didn’t have anyone, but that just isn’t true.

Your friend,

𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒌𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔

text reads: gale dekarios

oh my god I absolutely loved this!!! I literally squealed reading this for the first time. This is so so cute! never ever apologize for writing long, this makes me so happy. I’m still kicking my feet as I write my little a.n cause this is just so [ chefs kiss ] ~ kore