Big Fan Of Seeing Austin Be A Little Crazy With It Again And Maybe This Will Inspire An Au Where Gale

Buck riding Buckys thigh?

Pretty

UGHHHHH anon this is most beautiful image ever I cannot stop thinking about this

fully clothed, dry humping, Gale's mouth agape as he grinds his leg down on John's thick thigh, a hand gripped on his shoulder and the other over his mouth, taking his pleasure like a good boy

John with an arm wrapped around Gale's waist, guiding his motions and cursing under his breath, looking up at Gale like a man at church, eyes hooded as his other hand reaches up to run through Gale's hair, gripping ever so slightly because he loves seeing Gale like this, loves seeing him come undone

the outline of Gale's straining cock is an almost pornographic sight as he grinds down, hissing and cursing under his breath because the material is coarse against sensitive skin, John pressing Gale even closer and they're grinding their hard ons against each other, John groaning with his head thrown back

lazy and sloppy kisses that match the length of their slow grinding, maybe it's a Sunday afternoon and they're horny but too tired to actually fuck so Gale climbs in John's lap and slowly grinds against him, maybe they both come in their pants like teenagers but it's good and it's hot so that's all that matters to them

What Are Friends For? - Chapter 10

Word Count: 6.3k

Masterlist

The countryside stretched out ahead of me, the narrow road winding through rolling green fields under a cloudless blue sky. My little car hummed along, but my mind was anything but calm. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, the smooth leather warm under my palms, and tried to steady my breathing.

Callum’s text had been vague, which wasn’t unusual for him. “Just get here by 10—you’ll see,” he’d said, like that was helpful. See what, exactly? The set? The cast? Austin? My stomach did a little flip at the thought of him, unbidden but not unwelcome.

I glanced down during a brief stop at a red light, frowning at my outfit for the hundredth time. Skinny jeans and a blouse in a light, summery fabric had felt like a safe choice at the time—casual, comfortable—but now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I should’ve gone for something a bit smarter, something that said, “Yes, I’m totally calm and not losing my mind over seeing a guy who may or may not like me back.” But then again, it was a TV set, not afternoon tea at the Ritz. Maybe I’d overthought the whole thing.

What was I even going to say when I saw him? “Hi” felt too bland. A casual wave seemed awkward. A hug? Too presumptuous. I could practically hear Zara’s voice in my head: “Just act normal. Unless you want him to think you’ve completely lost it.”

Easier said than done.

The set came into view as I crested the hill, the sight taking my breath away for a moment. Massive WWII planes were parked across a sprawling airfield, their wings gleaming in the late-morning sun. Uniformed extras milled around in clusters, the scene alive with motion and noise—a vintage time capsule brought to life.

And there, leaning against a battered army jeep like he owned the place, was Callum.

I blinked, my breath catching as I took him in. Dressed head-to-toe as a WWII pilot, his khaki uniform and tan leather jacket making him seem like he’d walked straight out of a history book. The aviator shades perched on his nose added to the effect, his relaxed grin making it clear he was enjoying himself far too much.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath, pulling the car to a stop.

“Ange!” he called, his grin widening as I stepped out.

“Blimey,” he teased, sliding his sunglasses down just enough to peek over them. “You’re actually here. Didn’t think you’d make it past the nerves.”

I rolled my eyes, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “You look like you’ve stepped out of a recruitment poster. Is that part of the job, or just your natural charm?”

“Bit of both,” he said, straightening up and spreading his arms. “What do you think? Dashing, right?”

I snorted. “I’ll give you ‘dashing,’ but only because you look like you’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Can you blame me?” he said, climbing into the jeep with a practised ease. “Come on, hop in. Time to show you what all the fuss is about.”

I climbed into the passenger seat as Callum started the engine. The jeep rattled and bumped as we made our way toward the heart of the set, the air alive with activity. Crew members adjusted lighting rigs and sound equipment, extras chatted in their period-perfect uniforms, and the faint crackle of a loudspeaker cut through it all.

Callum brought the jeep to a stop, turning to me with a lopsided grin. “Welcome to 1944.”

I climbed out slowly, my feet hitting the ground as I turned in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. It was overwhelming—the scale of it, the detail, the way it felt like stepping into another world.

But none of that held my attention for long.

As we approached one of the planes, my eyes locked on a figure standing off to the side, arms crossed and his bomber jacket slung casually over one shoulder. Austin.

The sunlight caught his hair, the honeyed strands tousled in a way that looked effortlessly perfect. His uniform was just snug enough to hint at the broadness of his shoulders, and the toothpick perched between his lips gave him an easy, roguish charm.

My heart stuttered.

“Ange, you alright?” Callum’s voice broke through my thoughts, his teasing smirk firmly in place. “You’re looking a bit… distracted.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, quickly glancing away. But the heat creeping up my neck wasn’t so easily ignored.

“Come on,” he said, motioning me to follow him toward the centre of the set. “There’s a lot to see, and you’ve got to make the most of it.”

I nodded, trying to focus on the planes, the costumes, the sheer scale of it all. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing back toward Austin.

And when his eyes finally met mine, my stomach flipped.

Austin pushed off from where he was leaning, his bomber jacket shifting with the movement, and started walking toward us. His steps were measured, unhurried, and every inch of him exuded the kind of easy confidence I’d always envied but never mastered. The toothpick shifted in his mouth as a slow, lopsided smile curved his lips, and my pulse tripped over itself.

“Cal,” he greeted with a nod before his gaze flicked to me. “Ange.”

“Hey,” I managed, my voice coming out a touch higher than I’d intended. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hi.”

Callum gave a low chuckle and clapped Austin on the back. “She’s already starstruck, mate. Told you this would happen.”

“Shut up, Callum,” I shot back, but my retort lacked any real bite. My attention was locked on Austin, who seemed entirely too amused by my flustered state.

“Glad you could make it,” Austin said, his voice softer now, the words settling somewhere in my chest.

“Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” I replied, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and cursing myself for how awkward I sounded.

“Right, enough standing around,” Callum said, clapping his hands together. “There’s a lot to see, and not much time before I’m due back in front of the camera.”

He led the way deeper into the set, Austin falling into step beside me. The air was alive with the hum of activity—crew members shouting instructions, the clatter of equipment being moved, the distant drone of a plane engine starting up. It was overwhelming in the best way, like stepping straight into a time machine.

“They really went all out,” I said, more to myself than anyone else, my eyes darting between the planes, the props, and the clusters of people in immaculate period costumes.

Austin glanced at me, his smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s something, isn’t it?”

“Something” didn’t even begin to cover it. The sheer scale of it all—the authenticity, the attention to detail—was breathtaking.

A familiar voice cut through the hum of activity. “Well, well, look who it is.”

I turned just in time to see Anthony strolling toward us, his uniform looking pristine, though his cocky grin somewhat ruined the composed military effect. Behind him, Nate and Raff followed, all of them looking far too at home in their costumes.

“Didn’t think we’d see you again so soon,” Nate said with a smirk.

“Oh, come on,” Anthony added, “let’s be honest—we’re just impressed you survived all that tequila.”

I groaned. “It wasn’t that much.”

“Enough to make you very entertaining,” Raff teased. “But fair play, you held your own.”

Austin hummed around his toothpick, eyes glinting with amusement. “She did.”

I shot him a glare. “Not you too.”

Austin just grinned.

“I don’t know whether to be proud or concerned,” I muttered.

“Oh, be proud,” Anthony said, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “You held your own, and more importantly—you provided the night’s best entertainment.”

“You lot are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Callum said cheerfully.

Austin’s eyes were still on me, amusement lingering in his expression. “It was a good night,” he said simply, and something about the way he said it sent a flicker of warmth through my chest.

“Alright,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “We’ve got a scene to shoot in a bit, but make sure she gets the full experience.”

“Oh, she will,” Callum assured them.

Austin was quiet as the others wandered off, but I caught the brief glance he and Callum exchanged. Something was going on.

I folded my arms. “Okay. What was that about?”

Callum slung an arm around my shoulders and started walking me toward a row of trailers. “Come on, Ange. Just trust me.”

“That’s exactly what I don’t trust.”

But it was too late—before I knew it, I was being ushered inside a trailer by two women holding hairbrushes and fabric swatches.

“You must be Angie,” one of them said warmly. “Come on, love. We’ve got work to do.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, glancing at Callum in alarm. “What’s happening?”

Callum grinned. “You’re getting the full experience. Hair, makeup, wardrobe—the works.”

I turned to Austin, hoping for an ally, but he only shrugged, his smile softening. “You’ll look great.”

“That’s not the point!” I exclaimed, but the words lost their punch as the two women gently but firmly ushered me toward the makeup chair.

“Relax,” one of them said with a grin. “You’re going to have fun.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but as they set to work curling my hair and pinning it into an intricate updo, their infectious enthusiasm started to chip away at my nerves. The wardrobe team bustled in next, handing me a simple but elegant 1940s-style dress that fit like it had been made for me.

By the time they were finished, I barely recognised myself in the mirror. The hair, the makeup, the dress—it all came together to transform me into someone who looked like they belonged on this set. My nerves hadn’t disappeared entirely, but there was a flicker of excitement now, too.

When I stepped out of the trailer, Callum let out a low whistle. “Blimey, Ange. You clean up alright.”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks warmed under the weight of his gaze.

Then I looked at Austin.

He didn’t say anything at first, just let his eyes sweep over me in a way that made my stomach flip all over again. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “You look perfect.”

The words hung between us, warm and unexpected, and for a moment, everything else—the noise, the bustle, the nerves—faded into the background.

“Alright,” Callum said, breaking the moment with a clap of his hands. “Time to get her on set.”

“On set?” I echoed, my heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean, on set?”

“Relax,” Callum said, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “It’s just a walk-on part. You’ll stand in the background, maybe carry something, look like you belong. Easy.”

“Callum, I can’t—what if I mess it up?”

“You won’t,” Austin said, his voice steady and reassuring. “Just think of it like this: you’re not playing a part—you’re just you. Well, you in the 1940s.”

“That’s not helpful,” I muttered, but the warmth in his gaze eased some of the tension in my chest.

“You’ll be great,” he said simply. But I wasn't sure I believed him.

By the time Callum led me toward the soundstage, my nerves had officially kicked into overdrive. The sheer scale of the set had been overwhelming enough, but the idea of stepping in front of the camera—even just as a background extra—made my stomach churn.

It wasn’t a big deal. I wasn’t expected to act. I just had to exist in the background, blend into the world they’d created. Easy, right?

Except all I could think about was how one wrong move—a misplaced step, an accidental glance at the camera—could ruin the take and waste everyone’s time. Time that costs actual money.

I stopped in my tracks just outside the set, my breath catching in my throat. “Callum, I can’t do this.”

He turned back, raising a brow. “Ange, it’s not that deep. You’re literally walking through a scene.”

“Exactly! Which means I have to walk properly—not too fast, not too slow, don’t bump into anyone, don’t look at the camera, don’t trip over my own feet—”

Austin’s voice cut through my spiralling thoughts. “Hey.”

I turned, startled. I hadn’t even noticed him slipping away from the others.

He tipped his head toward a quieter corner of the set. “Come here.”

I hesitated, glancing between him and Callum. My best friend just smirked, clearly seeing right through my hesitation, before giving me a little shove in Austin’s direction.

I followed Austin toward a quiet space behind one of the prop walls, away from the main bustle of crew and cast. He leaned a shoulder against the wall, studying me in that steady way of his.

“You’re overthinking,” he said simply.

I let out a shaky breath. “I just—what if I mess up? What if I walk the wrong way and ruin the take? What if I—”

“Angie.” His voice was warm, patient, like he could hear every anxious thought bouncing around in my head. “You won’t.”

I scoffed. “How do you know that?”

His lips twitched. “Because I used to be you.”

I frowned. “What?”

His gaze softened. “When I first started as an extra—when I was, like, twelve—I was terrified of messing up. Everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and I felt like an imposter just standing there. So you know what I did?”

I shook my head.

“I gave myself a backstory,” he said. “I wasn’t just some random kid in the background—I was part of the world. If the scene was in a diner, I imagined I was waiting for my dad to get off his shift. If it was a school scene, I pretended I was late for class. Something simple. Something that made me feel like I belonged.”

He let that sink in before continuing, his voice quieter now. “You love history, right? You know this world. So don’t think about the cameras or the set or any of that. Just—make up a story. Imagine you’re really here.”

I swallowed hard, the nerves still there, but shifting. Make up a story. Imagine I belong.

Something about the way he said it—so certain, so effortless—made it seem possible.

A thought flickered in my mind, soft at first, then settling deep in my chest.

I already knew the story I wanted to tell.

“My nan,” I said, my voice quieter now.

Austin tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“She used to talk about the Americans in London during the war,” I explained. “She worked in a factory, but she and her friends would go out dancing whenever they could. She said the Americans always knew how to have a good time.”

A small, nostalgic smile tugged at my lips. “She called them ‘trouble with good hair.’”

Austin huffed a soft laugh, but his expression was warm. “Sounds like she had some fun.”

“She did,” I said. “She always said those nights were some of the best of her life. Even in the middle of a war, they still found ways to celebrate.”

Austin nodded, like he understood. “So, be her.”

I blinked at him.

His voice was steady, sure. “For the scene. Pretend you’re her. You’re just a girl on an airbase, surrounded by pilots celebrating their latest mission. You’re laughing with your friends, soaking it all in. No cameras, no crew—just a moment in time.”

I let the idea settle, the edges of my nerves softening. Be Connie. Be my nan.

I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Austin’s smile was small but proud. “Okay.”

He pushed off the wall, giving my hand a brief, reassuring squeeze before leading me back toward the others.

As I stepped onto the set, the nerves didn’t vanish completely, but they felt different now—smaller, quieter. I wasn’t just Angie, the panicked background extra.

For just a little while, I was Connie.

And I belonged here.

As soon as the director called cut, the tension I hadn’t even realised I was holding drained from my body. I let out a slow breath, still half-expecting someone to rush over and tell me I’d ruined the entire shot. But instead, the crew was already resetting for another take, the energy on set shifting smoothly around me like a well-oiled machine.

I had done it. I had walked through a scene, kept my nerves in check, and—most importantly—hadn’t tripped over anything.

A small burst of triumph flickered in my chest.

Callum was the first to reach me, his grin absolutely insufferable as he draped an arm around my shoulders. “Well, well, well. Look at you, Miss Hollywood.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, really. Very convincing stuff,” he said, voice dripping with faux sincerity. “That whole standing in the background thing? Mesmerising.”

I shoved his arm off, rolling my eyes. “I hate you.”

Austin appeared beside him then, hands tucked into his pockets, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Told you you’d be fine.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “Yeah, yeah. You win.”

Callum’s brows shot up. “Wait, Austin helped with the nerves? Not me?”

Austin barely looked at him. “I’m more persuasive.”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “He told me to make up a backstory, so I—” I hesitated, my gaze flicking to Austin before I continued. “I pretended I was my nan. When she used to go out dancing with the Americans during the war.”

Austin’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “Looked like you belonged.”

My stomach did a small, ridiculous flip. I covered it by rolling my eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.”

Callum, however, did go that far. “Oh, mate, don’t say that. Next thing you know, she’ll be trying to get a speaking role.”

“Please.” I scoffed. “That was a one-time thing.”

Callum grinned, slinging an arm back around my shoulders as he started walking us toward the trailers. “We’ll see about that.”

The excitement from the scene still buzzed through me as Callum led us outside, back to the battered army jeep he’d picked me up in earlier.

The jeep rumbled to life beneath us, the engine’s low growl blending into the hum of activity on set. Callum had thrown on his flying jacket before climbing into the driver’s seat, looking even more the part now with the shearling collar turned up against the breeze. Austin, already wearing his, had wrapped a faded blue scarf loosely around his neck, the ends tucked into his bomber jacket.

I really needed to stop staring at him.

Callum gave the wheel a sharp twist, swinging us around toward the far side of the airfield where one of the B-17s stood waiting. “Time for the real tour,” he said, flashing me a grin before accelerating down the narrow path.

The ride was bumpy, the jeep jostling over uneven ground, but the view made up for it. Massive aircraft loomed on either side, their metal frames gleaming under the midday sun, while extras in full uniform moved between them like ghosts of another time. The scent of oil and earth mixed with something distinctly old, like history had settled deep into the bones of this place.

Austin sat beside me in the back, one arm slung casually over the side of the jeep. The toothpick was still in his mouth, rolling between his lips as he watched the set pass by. My eyes kept catching on it—on the way his lips shifted around it, on the slow, almost absent-minded way he worked it between his teeth. It was stupid, how distracting it was. Just a stupid sliver of wood.

“You good?” Austin asked suddenly, glancing over.

I blinked, realising I’d been staring. Again. “Yeah. Just… taking it all in.”

His mouth curved slightly, the toothpick shifting. “It’s a lot.”

That was an understatement.

The jeep rolled to a stop beside the B-17, its massive silver hull towering above us. The crew had done a meticulous job on the aircraft—the detailing, the weathering, even the scuffed edges of the metal—it all looked authentic, like this thing had been through actual missions.

Callum hopped out first, stretching with a satisfied sigh. “Now, Ange, I know you’re desperate to see inside, so let’s make it happen.”

Austin was already moving ahead. He climbed the ladder with ease, disappearing inside the plane like he’d done it a hundred times before. A few seconds later, his voice echoed down. “Come on up.”

I was still looking at the ladder, debating the logistics, when Callum clapped me on the back. “Oh, right. Forgot to mention—only two seats.”

I turned to him. “Okay…?”

He smirked. “Means you’ll have to sit on his lap.”

“What? No.”

“Oh, definitely. Up you go,” Callum said, motioning toward the ladder.

I opened my mouth to argue, but Austin’s head popped out from the hatch, brows raised. “We doing this or what?”

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before gripping the rungs and climbing up after him. The metal was warm beneath my palms, the scent of fuel and aged leather thick in the air as I pulled myself into the cockpit.

Austin was already in the pilot’s seat, adjusting the straps of his harness out of habit. The space was tight—cramped with dials, levers, and panels that looked intimidatingly complex.

I barely had time to take it all in before Callum hauled himself up behind me, taking one glance at the two seats and smirking.

Austin shifted, looking up at me with an unreadable expression. His toothpick rested at the corner of his mouth, and for some reason, my eyes kept getting stuck there—on the movement of it, on his lips.

It took me a second to process that he’d already reached for my hand, steadying me as I awkwardly climbed over and lowered myself onto his lap, my back pressing against the solid warmth of his chest.

Austin shifted, his arms moving to rest lightly on either side of me as he reached for the controls. “Comfy?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, determined to sound unaffected.

His breath brushed against my ear as he leaned forward slightly. “Welcome to your first flight lesson.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine.

Callum, of course, had zero sympathy. “Oh, you two look cosy.”

“Shut up, Callum,” I muttered.

There was a beat of silence before Austin reached past me to gesture at the controls. “This is the throttle. That’s the altimeter. And this—” His fingers brushed over a switch, his voice dropping. “This one’s just for looking impressive.”

I huffed out a laugh, forcing myself to focus. “Sounds very official.”

“Mm.” His breath was warm against my cheek. “Very.”

Callum turned in his seat, oblivious to my internal crisis. “You two look like a proper flight crew. Maybe I should get a picture.”

“No,” I said immediately.

“Yes,” Austin said at the same time.

Callum was already digging for his phone.

I turned my head to glare at Austin—a mistake, because now our faces were inches apart.

The smirk on his lips deepened, his voice barely above a murmur. “You good?”

No. No, I was absolutely not good.

I forced a nod, ignoring the warmth spreading through my chest. “Totally fine.”

If Callum noticed the tension, he didn’t comment—just took a few photos, grinning at his own handiwork before finally declaring, “Alright, let’s get out before we break something expensive.”

We climbed down from the plane, the metal rungs warm under my hands as I carefully stepped onto solid ground again. The second my feet hit the tarmac, I turned to Austin with a smirk.

“Do they pay you extra for that, or is it just for the aesthetic?” I nodded toward the ever-present toothpick between his lips.

Austin grinned, plucking it from his mouth and twirling it between his fingers. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh no, I think it’s very method,” I teased. “Really completes the whole tortured-pilot look.”

Callum snorted as he hopped into the jeep. “He’s been doing it since boot camp. At this point, I think it’s just stuck there.”

Austin flicked the toothpick at him, narrowly missing his shoulder before sliding in beside me. “It helps me think.”

I raised a sceptical brow. “Think about what?”

He considered for a second before slotting another between his lips. “Lots of things.”

“Profound,” I deadpanned, earning a laugh from Callum as he started the engine.

Callum drove us across the set once more, the jeep bouncing over the tarmac as we neared a large hangar-like structure where the partially built plane sets were housed. From the outside, it wasn’t much to look at—just a nondescript industrial building—but the moment we stepped inside, I understood why this was saved for last.

Two sections of a B-17 sat on the floor, both open at strange angles like they’d been cut straight out of history. One was just the cockpit, set on a massive steel frame, while the other was a larger chunk of the fuselage with an exposed belly turret. The air smelled of sawdust and metal, with crew members adjusting rigging and camera mounts.

Callum gestured toward the cockpit first. “This is the one we use for the interior flight scenes,” he explained. “It’s mounted on a gimbal, so when they need turbulence, the whole thing tilts and shakes, nearly twenty feet in the air.”

I tipped my head back, my stomach flipping slightly at the sight of it. “That’s mildly terrifying.”

“Yeah, you get used to it,” Austin said, his voice lined with amusement. He tapped the metal framework of the lower fuselage, where a ladder led up into the cramped space. “This one’s mostly for the actors to move through—getting to their positions, action shots. No fancy hydraulics.”

Nearby, a large whiteboard was propped up against a workbench, a list of character names was scrawled across it, each followed by a series of numbers. I stepped closer, scanning the list. “What’s this?”

“Oh,” Callum said, following my gaze. “That’s the competition.”

I turned to look at him. “Competition?”

Austin’s voice carried the hint of a challenge. “Fastest time from the floor to the cockpit.”

I scanned the numbers, my eyes landing on Callum’s name—Egan, 8.8 seconds. Then I saw Austin’s—Cleven, 5.5 seconds.

I glanced up at Austin, who was watching me with a lopsided grin. “5.5 seconds?”

He rolled the toothpick between his lips. “I got good at it.”

“You got competitive about it,” Callum corrected.

Austin shrugged, the picture of nonchalance.

I looked back at the hatch, taking in the cramped opening. “And you have to climb in through that? Like, full gear, under pressure?”

“That’s the job,” Austin said.

A nearby crew member strolled past and overheard. “You want to see him do it?”

Austin sighed but was already rolling his shoulders, and lowering himself to the floor. “Guess I’m doing it.”

I crossed my arms, curiosity getting the better of me. “Go on, then. Show me what all the fuss is about.”

Austin shot me a quick smirk, then, without hesitation, grabbed the edge of the hatch and hoisted himself in. The bulky bomber jacket and harness didn’t slow him down—he moved with practiced ease, twisting his body through the narrow opening in one fluid motion. His boots barely made a sound as he disappeared into the cockpit, like he’d done it a thousand times before.

Callum checked his phone. “Six seconds.”

Austin’s voice echoed from inside. “Bullshit.”

The crew member called back, laughing. “Nah, mate, that was closer to five.”

I shook my head, still staring at the hatch. “That was ridiculous.”

Austin reappeared, bracing one hand against the frame as he leaned out slightly. The toothpick in his mouth shifted as he grinned down at me. “That’s why I’m the best.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think I need a second opinion.”

Callum clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Oh, Ange, there’s no contest. The lad’s got it.”

Austin hopped down from the ladder, landing lightly beside me. “Told you.”

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head as Austin adjusted his jacket like he hadn’t just scaled the plane in full gear like it was nothing. “Alright, fine. You win this round.”

His smirk deepened, the toothpick shifting between his lips again. “I usually do.”

I rolled my eyes, but it was mostly to cover the fact that my brain was still struggling to function properly after watching that. “Yeah, well… doesn’t mean I’m impressed.”

Austin let out a soft hum, like he wasn’t buying it for a second. Then, just to make matters worse, he winked—casual, effortless, devastating.

My stomach flipped.

I turned away, fully prepared to pretend none of that had just happened, but Callum was already looking at me with far too much amusement. I pointed a warning finger at him. “Not a word.”

He held his hands up in surrender, but the smirk on his face told me he’d absolutely be bringing this up later.

“Alright,” Austin said, straightening. “I gotta head over to rehearsal.”

Callum clapped him on the back. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll get out of your way.”

Austin’s gaze flicked back to me for half a second—just long enough to make me feel like he wanted to say something else—before he gave me a small nod and turned to go.

Callum nudged me toward the jeep. “Come on, Ange. Let’s get you out of that dress before you combust.”

I climbed in, still feeling a little unsteady, and Callum—of course—waited exactly three seconds before glancing over with a knowing look.

“Shut up, Callum.”

He laughed, revving the engine. “Didn’t say a thing.”

But as we drove back toward the trailers, I could still feel the warmth of Austin’s gaze lingering on my skin.

By the time Callum came to fetch me from the trailers, I was back in my regular clothes, my hair still holding remnants of its 1940s curls. It felt strange stepping out of the past and back into reality, but the day wasn’t over yet.

“They’ve wrapped,” he said, leaning against the doorframe with that ever-present smirk. “Austin’s with me—figured we’d grab you on the way.”

I followed him outside, where the jeep was parked once again. Austin was already sitting in the passenger seat, arms folded, now in his own clothes—just a simple white t-shirt and black Adidas tracksuit bottoms, his hair slightly messier than it had been all day. His head turned when he heard me approach, his eyes flicking over me in a way that made my stomach do something ridiculous.

“Back in the modern world,” he said, amusement threading through his voice.

“Almost,” I replied, tucking a curl behind my ear. “I’ve spent most of the afternoon picking people’s brains about costumes, hair, and makeup.”

Callum shot me a look as I climbed into the back seat. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” I said, grinning. “You know I love getting the details right.”

Austin twisted slightly to glance at me. “For your writing?”

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Yeah. I mean, it’s exactly the time period I’m writing about, so the way everything’s put together—it helps.”

His lips twitched, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s smart.”

I felt my face heat slightly, but thankfully, Callum chose that moment to rev the engine and pull onto the road, saving me from having to respond.

The drive back to the cast accommodation was easy, the three of us slipping into a comfortable rhythm, mostly Callum telling stories about mishaps on set. By the time we arrived, the sun was starting to dip, casting long golden streaks across the sky.

Austin hopped out first, stretching his arms above his head before turning toward his house. He hesitated for a moment, then glanced back at me.

“Hey,” he said, quieter now. “You did good today.”

I exhaled a small laugh. “You mean I walked convincingly? Groundbreaking.”

His mouth quirked. “I mean you didn’t let it get to you. You belonged there.”

Something in my chest tightened at that, warm and unexpected. I bit my lip, then nodded. “Thanks. And, you know… for earlier. Helping me get out of my own head.”

His eyes lingered on mine for a beat, something unreadable in them. Then he gave me a small nod, one that felt heavier than it should, before turning and disappearing inside.

I barely had a second to process the moment before Callum nudged me toward his house.

“Inside,” he said, dragging me along. “Before you start overthinking whatever that was.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

I sighed but followed him inside, ignoring the way my thoughts still lingered on Austin’s parting words.

Callum and I sat across from each other at the small kitchen table in his rental, the remnants of dinner between us—pasta, because neither of us had the energy for anything more complicated. The atmosphere was easy, familiar, but my mind was still buzzing from the day.

Callum pushed his empty plate away, stretching out in his chair with an air of satisfaction. “Not bad, huh? I’d say my cooking skills are improving.”

I snorted. “Boiling pasta and opening a jar of sauce isn’t cooking.”

“Wow. Ungrateful,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Next time, you can cook.”

I smirked, taking a sip of my drink. “Next time I will.”

The comfortable silence that followed was filled with the low hum of the fridge and the occasional scrape of a fork against a plate. I let myself relax into it, my mind still replaying the day over and over. The tour, the costumes, the planes, the walk-on part. The moment I had thought would be the most terrifying had turned out to be one of the most exhilarating, and now, sitting here, it all felt a little surreal.

I set my glass down, glancing at Callum. “I still can’t believe you pulled all of that together.”

He looked up, brows raised. “Pulled what together?”

“The tour, the set experience, getting me into costume—” I gestured vaguely, still half in disbelief. “You made today one of the coolest things I’ve ever done.”

Callum grinned. “Well, you’re welcome.”

I narrowed my eyes. Something about the way he said that…

I tilted my head. “You look too smug.”

“I always look smug.”

“Yeah, but this is worse than usual.” I squinted at him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Callum hesitated just long enough for me to latch onto it.

“What?” I demanded, leaning forward. “What is it?”

He took a long sip of his drink, drawing it out, before finally exhaling a sigh. “Alright, fine. I didn’t plan the whole thing.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down with an infuriating amount of nonchalance. “I just set up the tour. You should really be thanking Austin.”

I blinked. “What?”

Callum shrugged like it was obvious. “I told him you were coming, figured we’d just show you around, but the rest? The costume, the walk-on part, getting you into the cockpit—that was all him.”

I stared at him, trying to process that. “You’re telling me Austin arranged all of that?”

“Yep.”

“The same Austin who barely knows me?”

Callum snorted. “Starting to think that’s not entirely true.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, my thoughts racing. “But… why would he—”

“Oh, come on, Ange.” Callum leaned forward, smirking. “You really need me to spell it out for you?”

I ignored the way my stomach did an inconvenient little flip at that. I ignored the way my heart had started thudding a little harder in my chest, the warmth creeping up my neck.

Callum didn’t push. For once, he just watched me, the teasing edge in his smirk fading into something softer. Like he was waiting for me to catch up to something he’d already figured out.

I swallowed, my fingers curling slightly against the edge of the table. The warmth in my chest, the nervous energy buzzing under my skin—it had been there all day, hadn’t it? Not just today. Before that, too. In the bookshop. At brunch. Even before that, when he first walked into my flat with Callum, all slow smiles and careful attention.

I had spent so much time trying not to read into things, convincing myself it was nothing. But now, sitting here, with Callum watching me like he knew exactly what was running through my head, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I exhaled slowly, shaking my head, more at myself than anything. “I need to thank him.”

Callum hummed, something amused and knowing in his expression. “Yeah, you do.”

I pushed back from the table, standing abruptly. Callum didn’t say anything as I grabbed my phone and shoved it in my pocket. Didn’t smirk, didn’t tease. Just watched, like he knew this was a moment I had to reach on my own.

I hesitated for half a second, fingers gripping the back of my chair, then turned for the door.

I wasn’t thinking anymore. I was just moving.

Taglist:

@slowsweetlove @thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @butlerrizz @myradiaz @chocolatetree222

cicada season. a clegan au (ch 10/15, 60k)

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

–

“Do you remember my name?” Gale asks him quietly, hesitantly. He thinks he won’t be angry, if John doesn’t.

“Gale. Cleven.” John’s breath is warm on Gale’s belly. “Never got the middle name, I don’t think.”

“Winston.”

“Condolences.” 

Gale huffs a laugh. John’s hair looks soft, a little extra shiny with sweat and grease, but still nice-looking. It’s soft under his fingers as he cautiously reaches out to touch it, brush through the strands carefully, thumb smoothing across John’s temple. 

“Clarence isn’t better.” 

“How do you–”

“Your ID.” 

“Did you fuck me because we both have shitty– mm–second names?” 

READ HERE

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

🈭 🪲 ꫂ͙ꨩ¨:· 🕯️❚❙❘❙ OUT THË WAY ⠶⣄⢀𖤓

HS AU - Life After 30

All right, here we go - let's look at the lives of my HS AU boys after their Big Fight.

As I shared previously, when they're 30, the boys fight about whether to have kids or not. It’s a difficult period where they hurt each other deeply, but eventually, they resolve the fight: Gale runs away back to Milwaukee and visits his parents alone, goes through some trauma processing that he has been putting off, then ends up going home and making up with Bucky.

They both tear up during this conversation. Bucky tells Gale that he would rather stay childless with Gale than have children with someone else. But then, Gale tells him about everything that went through his mind during his time in Milwaukee and the revelations he had.

In the end, Gale says that he’s going to start therapy again, and he asks Bucky to give him time to see if he can get to a mental place where he is ready to have children. Relieved and happy to have his husband back, Bucky agrees.

Over the course of the next two years, Gale goes through a brief period of depression, then a therapy process that helps him tremendously. Once or twice, Bucky is asked to join him on these therapy sessions. Gale also starts working at NASA, where he becomes best friends with Marge.

After more than a year of therapy, Gale tells Bucky that if Bucky still wants it, they can look into their options to have children.

First, they look into adoption, but eventually, after many long discussions and external advice, they end up choosing surrogacy via Marge's sister, who's the one who suggests it in the first place.

Gale still has some fears about becoming a father, therefore they decide that the baby will be Bucky's biological child.

Their first kid, Abigail "Abby" Egan, is born when Bucky and Gale are 35.

She looks just like Bucky, with dark curls and dark blue eyes, but she has the rounder face shape of Marge's sister. She's vocal even as a baby, and she starts talking at a very young age.

Her name is Abigail because Bucky fell in love with the idea of her carrying Gale's name in hers, and Gale felt too touched to say no. (And the name means "my father's joy", which the boys both like.)

They decided even before starting the surrogacy process that any child they would have would take Bucky's surname only. Gale has no desire to pass his on.

Gale's anxious and tense at first when they bring her home from the hospital. He doesn’t know if he'll be able to connect with her or if he can be someone she could love.

But, the first night he holds her in his arms and puts her to sleep by singing to her quietly, he realizes that those paternal feelings he thought he didn’t have were there in his heart all along. That night, after he leaves her in her crib, he tears up in Bucky's embrace and tells Bucky that he didn’t think he would ever love anyone as much as he loves Bucky, but he thinks he might have been wrong.

Bucky and Gale turn out to be really good parents, and they're able to adjust to fatherhood well enough that not long after taking Abby home, they decide that they would like to have another child if they have a chance.

Three years after Abby, her brother, George "Matty" Egan is born, also via surrogacy.

This time, Bucky and Gale have some difficulty deciding on a name. Nothing sounds right. Eventually, they name their son after Georgia.

But, while they're still undecided about it, Gale starts referring to the fetus as Baby B, which becomes Baby Bee, and he gets really attached to the nickname. So much so that he continues calling him Baby Bee once he’s born and buys him bee-themed blankets, toys and onesies. Bucky's a bit... exasperated by this.

Matty gets his final nickname as a toddler - once, he gets frustrated because of something Bucky has done and throws a tantrum. In an attempt to cheer him up, Bucky asks him if he's "mad at Daddy". In his upset state, Matty doesn’t pronounce this correctly and it sort of comes out as "Maddy", which very quickly becomes Matty because Bucky is giddy that he finally found a nickname that isn’t Bee.

Matty is Gale’s biological child. He has light blond hair, big blue eyes and a quiet temperament. He’s very good-natured and easy to handle, but he doesn’t like change and gets clingy with his parents.

The family lives in Washington because of Gale's job at NASA.

In addition to the kids, Bucky and Gale also have their first dog, Achilles, from when Gale was a PhD student, but the dog is very old by the time Matty is born and has to be put down not long after. Bucky is heartbroken about it, because he doesn’t cope well with loss, and he says he doesn’t want to get another dog for a while.

This only lasts for a few years though, because around the time when Abby is 7 and Matty is 4, Gale gets Bucky a puppy as a birthday gift. It’s also a golden retriever, but female, and Abby is obsessed with her from the beginning. It’s quickly apparent that it's going to be her dog basically. Bucky and Gale let the kids give the puppy a name each, and that's how she becomes Poppy Pancakes Egan.

They visit Georgia and Neil in Milwaukee a few times a year, and when they're old enough, the kids spend multiple weeks there during the summer.

I'm going to stop here because the post is long enough already 😄

In a nutshell, this is how Bucky's and Gale’s life changes in the years after they turn 30. They move to Washington, Gale starts working at NASA, and they have their own little family. 🥰

~♡~

I have been brainstorming about my HS AU with the lovely @butdaddyilovehim99 for several months now, and by now, these characters and their lives feel almost real to me. Therefore, this post is only a summary, but I have many, many more headcanons that we can talk about if you guys are interested. Just send me an ask 🩷 Thank you, Bri, for having so much love for these characters and talking about them with me!

I will also make a separate post for each kid tomorrow to share more about them. 🥰

you briefly get a taste of what you desire. then isn't death, a worthy price to pay?

BYEON WOOSEOK as RYU SHIOH

strong girl nam soon, 힘쎈여자 강남순.

Callum?? Oh you're awful!

jaehyun 'dandelion & roses' mv

my husband who came to pick me up from work –

Is there any chance that bucky and buck would have dirty, disrespectful sex? Especially when either one would suddenly show up unannounced at the other’s door after the war.

YES ANON THEY'RE HAVING NASTY DISRESPECTFUL SEX AS WE SPEAK I LOVE THIS

----

There's a knock on the door. Quiet, unabtrusive, almost like they don't want to be heard. Gale stalks towards the door and peers out of the peephole, breath catching when he sees John.

He's standing casually, leaning up against the door with his shirt sleeves rolled up and the top buttons unbuttoned. He looks good. He looks healthy.

Gale could take a bite out of him.

Gale blocks the entrance of the door with his body, crossing his arms and fixing John with the angriest stare he can manage.

"Should have called to let me know that you were coming," Gale mutters.

John chuckles, biting his lip and looking up through his coarse eyelashes.

"Come on, Gale. When do I ever call? You know that's not my style," John says and it's in that dangerous tone that gives away exactly what he's here for.

"Well, maybe it should be--" Gale starts before John shuts him up with his mouth, pushing Gale into the house and slamming the door with Gale's body pushed against it.

Gale's hands are rough in the front of John's shirt, wanting to rip, wanting to tear, but all he can focus on is John's rough and hot mouth on his. John's teeth are sharp on his lips, hands on his waist and holding the nape of his neck, pressing Gale somehow closer.

Gale wants to push, he wants to pull away, he wants John to kiss him harder and fuck him right there. It doesn't make sense, none of this makes sense, but he can't bring himself to stop when John's tongue is hot against his.

"I missed you," John grunts into Gale's lips, the hand around his waist messily undoing Gale's belt, pawing at his half hard cock.

Gale sighs, almost a growl as he fists John's hair, teeth gritted when John's lips find his again.

"Fucking show me then," Gale hisses.

John laughs almost, a breath of hot air against Gale's lips as he shoves Gale's pants down, hand still roughly palming him until he's fully hard and Gale's panting into John's mouth. He gets his hands on John's pants, shoves them down and grabs a handful of John's cock, breathing in the ragged sigh John lets out as he grinds into his hand. It's so easy with John, a flick of the wrist and a thumb dug into his slit and he's coming apart so easily, god Gale missed this.

Gale yelps when John hoists him up from the backs of his thighs, pressing him firm against the front door as his lips travel to Gale's neck, biting until almost pain at the protruding vein. Gale groans arms coming to wrap around John's shoulders, hands bunching into his shirt and hiking it up to his mid back.

"You're gonna fuck me against my front door? Want me so bad you can't even wait to get me to bed?" Gale whispers and curses quietly when he can feel John's cock hot and heavy at his entrance.

John bites down on Gale's shoulder, leaning his head up ever so slightly to whisper against Gale's jaw.

"Yeah, doll, can hardly keep my hands off of you. I'll get you to bed too, don't you worry, I ain't letting you go until I can't get it up anymore," John whispers and Gale bites his lip to prevent a moan from slipping out.

It shouldn't be this hot, with John's cock pressed against his hole, holding him up against the door and whispering nasty things into his ear, but Gale loves every second of it.

"Fuck me, John," Gale mutters and gasps when John spits in his hand, taking his length and pressing in slowly.

They don't have lube and Gale's not prepped, so John takes it nice and sweet as he pushes into him, waiting until he's fully seated and panting against Gale's jaw. Gale pants, hands gripping John's shirt tighter and he leans his head back against the wall, cursing at how tight and big John feels. Gale didn't realize quite how long he and John had been apart, and John is making up for it now, already starting to grind his hips forward into him.

Gale's legs tremble as John starts to pick up a rhythm, long and deep thrusts with only his spit to ease the slight burn, but it's so good when John tilts his head and kisses Gale open mouthed, deep and sensual as he fucks Gale against his front door.

Gale knows he's not going to last long, it's been months since he's been able to properly take his time, quick sessions in the shower as he hides his shame, and he can already feel his gut tightening when John groans in his mouth.

"Need you to come inside me, come on John, give it to me," Gale whispers, gasping when John tilts his hips up at just the correct angle.

John nods, panting into Gale's mouth as his thrusts get more uncoordinated, the bolt on the door shaking as he fucks Gale against it, god if someone were to come to the door they could probably hear Gale's mouth, would probably hear John's grunts. The thought causes Gale to shoot all over his stomach, a long and prolonged moan sang right into John's ear.

John comes not long after, pushing himself deep into Gale as he does, the warmth filling his insides deliciously. John shakily brings Gale's legs to the ground, holding him up by his waist as Gale trembles on his feet. John kisses him slow now, tongue still reaching for down his throat. Gale still feels hot, can feel his gut twitch even after he just came. He pulls away and looks at John with his ruddy cheeks and eager blue eyes.

"Why don't you take me to bed now, John?" Gale asks and smiles when he can see the instant heat in John's eyes.