MAYYYY I DIDNT SEE YOU POST FOR THE GAME OMGGG 🚗🚗🚗❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹
From the Make Me Write! game
DUUUCKKYYYYY 🥰💕 Look! I'm writing again!
🚗 That Ol' Devil Called Love part 2 - aka the Buckies get revenge
The bathroom wasn't big and John was. He took the two short strides that stood between him and Gale, and dropped down into his lap. His arms bracketed Gale's head where John clutched the edge of the bathtub. And Gale finally took a deep, shaky breath. "If you want to burn that card he slipped you, it's burned. If you want me to make sure he stays gone, I will. Just say the word, sweetheart. Tell me what you want and I'll do it." He dropped sweet, tiny pecks from the tuft of Gale's hair, down the slope of his forehead and the line of his nose. Gale clutched at the weight of him like it was the only thing keeping him from bolting down the street after the lawyer. Whether to take him up on his offer or to tear him a new asshole, John wasn't sure. But he figured any risk of his lover committing assault and battery against someone who knew the legal system as well as Robert Fucking Rosenthal, apparently, was a bad fucking idea. Gale pulled back, and John watched his eyes flickered back an forth between his own. "Is it wrong?" Gale murmured low, "That I was hoping Jack Kidd would just…turn up one day. Or Benny or Brady or hell, anyone. And they'd tell us it was done. They've got him. We can go home, if we want."
❤️🩹 Marge ruins Bucky’s love life
But. John spent whole evenings riling Gale up until they were arguing over some tiny, long-forgotten detail and Gale never noticed the snow starting to fall outside. He played music that blocked out the sound of the wind. He was a ringer for impressions and would yammer along to Fibber McGee and Jack Benny on the radio until Marge cried. And in the middle of the night, when Marge woke to an empty bed and crept halfway down the stairs, John stacked the fire up high and let the blaze burn away whatever had chased Gale from his place beside her, whilst John himself opted for steady silence for once, sentinel to Gale’s dreams. She’d fallen asleep there, once. Sitting on the stairs, slumped against the balustrade. A gentle shake had snapped her awake, and John and Gale looked down at her. Gale looked equally fond and guilty and she reached out for him, but John deftly intercepted, and a hand on each of their backs, dragged them half-asleep back to their bed. John did manage to sleep in that morning, and Marge even left a place of French toast outside his bedroom door.