Artist note: this is part of an AU of mine where John is a selkie.
It's the salty breeze blowing in from the ocean that dries Gale's tears. Their tracks feel sticky on his cheeks, pulling at his skin when he grimaces, ashamed by this sudden burst of emotion that overcame him when he sat down on this empty beach. What is he even doing here? Running away from what he has always known into an untethered existence, an abyss. No family, no nothing. Just a beat-up old car that barely carried him from Wyoming to California.
He just wanted to see the ocean.
There's no one else around. Not another human in sight. Not this early in the morning at least, when the sun is just peeking over the horizon and painting the waves as they come rolling over soft sand, a lazy ebb and flow, shimmering gold over white foam and the darker depths of the bay. Gale finds comfort in it, somehow. The sound of the water hitting the shore, rhythmic as if the ocean was breathing with him, washing away this annoying, inexplicable sorrow that gripped Gale's heart when he got here.
That was his only thought when he threw his life into a suitcase and drove away before the old man could change his mind about where he stood with Gale. He just wanted to see it once before he faced reality on his own again.
He has a new job. A new place, small and unfurnished it may be, but a place to sleep nevertheless. He should be excited to start over. But all that keeps him going on this new path is his hatred of his old cage. He doesn’t really want to be here, he doesn’t want to be anywhere - the only place that doesn’t feel like a prison is this beach.
A splashing noise and a blob of darkness in the corner of his vision make him whip his head around sharply, and his eyes land on a huge seal suddenly perched in the sand only a few feet away from him. It stares straight at him with its big, dark eyes.
His travel mug sits untouched in the sand beside him. He figured he’d drink his coffee while he walked along the beach, but he got only as far as this spot. The beauty and pain of sharing his solitude with nature compelled him to sit and let it all flow out of him.
How long has he been sitting here, letting the wind comb grains of sand into his hair? Pins and needles sting his legs, making him wince as he stretches them out and tries to shake off the pain. He wants to smack himself for the clever idea of wearing jeans to the beach. He really doesn’t belong here, does he?
Frowning, Gale tries to keep his calm. The truth is, he doesn’t know anything about seals. Perhaps this is just a regular sized specimen. The fact that it's still staring at Gale is probably normal, it must be scared of him. Its grey body is covered in spots, with a peculiar pattern around its mouth looking like a mustache.
After a few more seconds of staring, the seal makes a barking sound that reminds Gale of a dog, then throws itself down on the wet sand, rolling on its back and wiggling as if scratching an itch on its back. It looks almost like it's smiling, eyes blinking closed and open to stare at Gale upside down. It continues making noises, playful calls, snorts and grunts that don't seem threatening at all, but Gale's still wary to see where this goes. Should he get up and walk away? Should he make some noise to scare it away?
With the motion of it rolling around, the seal inches closer, pausing sometimes to look at Gale again. As if checking if it frightens Gale, or if they can be friends. Gale begins to wonder if the animal is used to humans feeding it. He grabs his travel mug to put it out of sight quickly.
He can’t help but smile when the seal turns to its side in the sand and his fat squishes into several rolls around its rotund neck.
Gale sighs, but it's no longer out of pain. When he breathes in, he feels like the air fills his lungs properly again.
“You’re a chubby one, aren't you?” Gale says out loud, smile widening when the seal barks at him, as if in protest.
They spend another moment like that, just him, his curious little friend and the calm morning waves, before the seal flips itself on its stomach and scoots back into the ocean, disappearing under the surface.
He doesn’t know how long he stays sitting there, contemplating his life, but when he spots the first human he has seen that day, he makes a move to get going. The last thing he needs is for the hot, shirtless guy running down the beach to stop and ask if he's okay. He is okay. Or he will be. He just has to hide the cracks until they heal.
A simpler art today for a fic that's no less awesome. Today prompts of my @fanartfrenzy bingo card are "Create art for any fic using pencil" and "Make a crayon drawing for any fic".
I choose After Hours by @avonne-writes. I love Avonne's fics and her various AU. They're always very touching and enjoyable to read. I have a soft spot for her buff omega Gale AU (as well as all her other AUs 🤭). This fic depicts a very cute and tender moment between Bucky and Gale at the beginning of their relationship, a nice and cosy read full of fluff.
Title: After Hours
Author: Avonne
Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024)
Ship(s): Gale "Buck" Cleven/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan
Summary: Craving affection, Gale decides to go the coffee shop where his alpha's doing a night shift.
Born from some conversations and permission to dabble in some ideas, heres a little postwar look into John and shifter Gale.
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The bony angles of John’s body hurt where they had been pressed to the wooden floor for an indeterminate amount of time. He tried to shift to get more comfortable in his current position—belly down and upper body wedged half under the dresser cabinet in their upstairs bedroom, trying to coax a terrified Gale in cat form from under it—but his cramped muscles protested the movement even more.
Gale (or Princess, not that John would get away with calling him that out loud anymore) was pressed as far as he could go into the dark corner under the dresser, small body cowered low to the ground with wide eyes and ears flattened. Every time John shifted Gale shrank back and let out a low growl, sometimes even hissing, and in the dim light John could see the silky limbs trembling.
He swallowed against the ache in his throat and took a deep breath through the nose, trying to make gentle, coaxing noises without moving. Gale didn’t flinch this time, but his mouth opened in a silent hiss and he pressed back further into the corner, and John’s eyes stung with unwelcome emotions. He had already tried reaching under the dresser to touch Gale but had gotten swiped at, one claw grazing his forearm, so John had retracted his arms to his chest, only lying there and speaking soothingly to Gale under his breath.
Thinking back on all his interactions with “Princess” during his time at Thorpe Abbots never failed to twist a knife in John’s chest. Of course it had been Gale. Gale who ran to him with pleading cries and jumped into his arms, who butted his little head into John’s chin and purred whenever he was held. Who looked at John with intelligence when he was rambling or venting his feelings, little paws kneading at John’s chest.
Gale’s cat form had been such a comfort to both of them. It gave Gale an instinctual security and John a soft, vulnerable, safe place, Gale’s creamy fur soothing him in a deep crevasse of himself that must have been akin to Gale’s own in this situation. Whatever it was they hadn’t thought about it much, and talked about it even less—just took it as it came—but that plan seemed to be showing its flaws lately.
If Gale’s buried fear overcame him he would shift, but lately he’d been shifting more often and staying that way for longer and it scared John.
Could he lose Gale? What if Gale never shifted back? What if he got spooked and ran away? Hit by a car or attacked by another animal? He was so good at hiding and escaping in cat form, John might never find him, and the fear was chipping away at his sanity.
Sometimes John was able to comfort Gale in his feline form, holding him close and sheltering him with his body in their bed, but sometimes it got like this, Gale’s nightmares and flashbacks plunging him into blackout fear that even John couldn’t pull him out of. Gale’s pitiful sounds whenever John got too close this time shattered John’s heart to tiny bits. He understood his hulking form scared Gale and he needed his space, but it was getting harder for John to breathe the longer he laid there with empty arms and Gale too far beyond his ability to comfort.
Slowly, he moved to his feet, careful to not make any sudden movements that would startle Gale further, and stood dumbly in the center of the room with his arms wrapped around himself for what felt like hours. The pain spreading from his chest to his limbs was so sickening it made him dizzy and he fisted his hands in his hair, tugging hard to clear his head of the whirling thoughts. It only half worked and he shuffled the few steps to the bed, dropping onto it and curling up on his side.
He hadn’t fallen asleep alone in a bed for years. Gale had always been either wrapped around him or within arms reach, an ankle thrown over John’s leg, an arm tucked under his stomach, or hair tickling John’s chin as Gale pressed his face to his chest. Feeling Gale’s breathing was as familiar as the movement of his own lungs, yet the wounds to Gale’s gentle soul—his selfless, stubborn, reckless soul—had torn him from John’s arms. Gale was huddled alone in the cold corner of the room, too much like the careless neglect of his childhood, but Gale couldn’t come to him. No warm, solid form embraced John’s scarred body or pressed him into the bed, and John tightened his grip around himself. Staring at the edge of the cabinet that Gale was under, he swallowed hard, vision blurring as the familiar trembling set into his limbs.
John hadn’t fallen asleep alone in years, but he hadn’t cried himself to sleep in far longer. As the first slow tears carved his face there was no hope of stopping them, they swelled and dropped like the ghostly touch of blood until he was muffling guttural sobs into his pillow, curled tight with his knees pulled up and arms over his head.
He half awoke some time later with a raw throat and puffy eyes to the sensation of another body on his own. The familiar warmth of Gale—in human form—curled against him, made the air snag in John’s lungs and new moisture spring to his eyes.
Gale’s own eyes were closed, breath soft and even in sleep, and John’s heart stuttered as he wrapped his arms around Gale instinctively. Gale scrunched his nose but didn’t fully wake, and John took a shuddering breath as relief crashed through him.
“Gale?” he rasped, voice cracking.
Gale made a snuffing sound and nudged John’s cheek with his nose, fingers clutching and releasing at the skin of John’s stomach in rhythmic motions. He hummed questioningly and rubbed his stubbly cheek on John’s chin, rolling over to sprawl more fully on top of him, and the icy pain in John’s chest started to melt.
He wrapped Gale up, shoving his face in the soothing scent of his hair, and breathed.
I'm obsessed with your horse clegan! It's so perfect. Would love to see horse!Curt too if you feel inspired 😍 or anything else from this horse au
THANK UUUUU !!!
omg i want to... this was just me having teehehehehe silly ridiculous fun but it literally was such a blast i wanna draw more of them lfklsdfjlsdkfjlk i do already have an idea for horse curtie....
Nick and Charlie’s firsts, by request, which are only vaguely referenced in my other fic, A Middle of the Night Trip to Big Tesco.
Occurs after the Paris trip and after Charlie has stayed in hospital, so he’s doing much better in his mental health. This explores them slowly slowly taking the steps of intimacy that work for them.
June, July, August by sophisticatedyet [M]
Needing a change of scenery after the worst year of his life so far, Charlie rents a cottage on the coast for the summer. It could have been a lonely three months but thankfully the landlady’s son, Nick, is (more than) happy to keep him company.
AKA: Put Nick and Charlie in knitwear by the sea and make them fall in love.
Reminisce by Avonne [M]
The day of Nick's five-year class reunion brings some surprises. (Part 3 of Desire Lines)
The Classic by loveinisolation [E]
Nick works the closing shift at a BeaverTails kiosk on the Canal. On Friday nights, the most beautiful boy he has ever met always comes by just before closing. On this particular Friday, things get a little bit hot out in the cold.
Yes, Chef by loveinisolation [E]
When Charlie attends (and struggles at) a French cooking class, he takes the (extremely hot) teacher's offer of private lessons and gains something more than knife skills in the process.
Artist note: Moodboard for Gale's first heat shared with Bucky in my buff omega Gale AU. And a short drabble about the evening before Gale goes into heat.
Glasses clink against the wooden table, sounds swallowed by the warm rumble of the bar. Laughter breaks out above the ebb and flow of conversation and the music thumping through the crowded space. Tucked away in a corner, their booth buzzes with excitement. John's friends are just as chatty as he is, and they're all several drinks into the night already. It's a delightful chaos, one that Gale's content to watch unfold from his cozy space nestled under John's arm.
John's fingers curl around his biceps casually, his thumb tracing absentminded patterns over Gale's arm. The warmth of his palm seeps through Gale’s shirt. He’s talking to Curt sitting across from them, but his embrace keeps Gale pressed close, like John wants everyone to see that they're together, like he’s proud. The idea of that sends a sweet, warm sensation through Gale’s entire body, settling deep in his abdomen like a yearning, an ache. It feels so unbelievably good to belong.
When Curt gets up to buy another drink, Bucky shifts towards Gale and noses playfully at his neck.
“God, you smell heavenly tonight.” He murmurs into Gale's ear.
The tickling caress of his words draws a flush to Gale's cheeks. His heat is going to hit by tomorrow. He can feel it thrumming under his skin, raising goosebumps to the surface when he's touched, he can feel it in the electric thrill he gets when John scents his neck, and in the haze that drapes over him lazily when he leans into John's solid body.
He drops a hand to John's thick thigh and strokes him through his jeans. “Let's go home, John.”
“Yeah?” John breathes out through his mouth like he’s trying to curb the anticipation vibrating in his chest. He knows what Gale means, he knew the time would come tomorrow or the day after. They had everything arranged - the sick days, the food, the nesting materials. They're ready. It’s going to be the first heat they spend together, and they both know that it can make or break their relationship, but Gale finds that he’s not worried. For the first time in his life, he feels like he might get through this without feeling drained, frustrated or embarrassed. John's presence always feels like safety and home. Why would it be different in his heat?
Smiling like he just can’t contain his giddiness, John gives Gale a chaste kiss, then presses their foreheads together. “You feelin’ okay?”
Gale hums. “I'm good. Just ready to leave.”
From this close, it's evident how John's scent intensifies, and Gale’s body responds to it like it’s a call to wake up all his primal instincts. He can feel his heat simmer, the rhythm of his want accelerate. If John pushes the right buttons once they're back home, it might even hit early. Gale never thought he’d say this, but he can’t wait.
John rubs the back of Gale's hand, then curls his fingers around Gale's and moves to stand up. His steady grip feels warm and comforting. “All right. Let's go home, doll.”
