#anyway rooting for these crazy kids now

[mass-convergence]

I’ll be honest with you - in season 1 of WOT:

I didn’t exactly love what I’m calling the Main Character Squad (Rand, Egwene, Perrin, Mat, Nynaeve). Like don’t get me wrong - I didn’t hate them. I just thought they were … idk … boring? And this may warrant a rewatch, I’ll admit I was not in the best place emotionally while watching the season. But I just felt like they were kind of flat with maybe the exception being Mat and Nynaeve who I was kinda like 👀 what’s going on. Mat had that whole corrupted by darkness thing going on with him and Nynaeve was just a fucking badass and seemed highly motivated to protect her friends from the get go. But idk Rand felt like he was just kinda …… there? Same with Egwene and Perrin.

(This is ending up turning into an essay so I’m gonna put shit below a cut)

They were cool characters and I obviously was rooting for them to get reunited and stuff but I was like “eh???” Until maybe the very end when things started falling in place and the plot became a lot more sticky (as my friend describes plots that suddenly have a lot of competing motivations all coming together)

So I think my main issue was with their writing rather then the characters themselves. I’m coming at this as a complete outsider to WoT - never read the books and even if I did, I believe an adaptation must be able to stand on its own. And what I think happened was that season 1 like *had* to catch everyone up on the lore of the world, why Moiraine was so hellbent on finding the Dragon, what the hell the Aes Sedai were, etc. etc.

And it may have somewhat put characterization on the backburner until the end when they were like “we caught you up to speed now here’s the plot”. I guess they felt passive, like the plot was just happening to them instead of them driving the plot. Like we got hints of stuff - I was confused about what was going on with Perrin, then really intrigued towards the end when the wolves attacked the White Cloaks camp. And then of course the whole Eye of the World thing and Ishamael being released and him cutting Moiraine off from the One Power.

But idk, most of that season just fell flat to me.

The second season however, whooooo boy did I get fucking invested in those crazy kids. I was like “why can’t Nynaeve deliberately channel? [Insert Spiderverse “can’t do it on command” meme here]”, “oh fuck how is Egwene going to get out of this and also fuck you Renna”, “Rand please don’t go crazy”, “Perrin is like spiritually connected to wolves??? I need to know more about how that is a thing”, “Mat I swear to god you better not be evil because I’m like rooting for you”.

And of course I was really invested in the supporting characters - like Moiraine’s journey, Liandrin’s betrayal, Lanfear’s … everything (god I love her).

And oh god was it almost empowering to see their arcs play out.

- Rand struggling with the fact that he is indeed the Dragon Reborn and that male channelers tend to go batshit and kill everyone they love.

- Perrin becoming more familiar with his wolf-powers (I forgot what they were called or if they even had a name I’m sorry) … and being caught between his humanity and his wolf side. RIP Hopper, I’m glad you were avenged almost immediately.

- Egwene first off like: struggling with the fact that Nynaeve was kind of distant (because Nynaeve was obviously dealing with her own issues) but sticking with her friend. And then getting fucking captured and enslaved and like thrown into one of the most disempowering positions one can get into… and she fucking still held her own and never gave in. God I think her arc is like my favorite one this season. Fuck you Renna I’m glad you fucking got what you deserved.

- Mat dealing with the aftermath of the dagger and just having this darkness inside of him. He had been pushed down and kicked all his life, people viewed him as a loser, and he had that attitude towards himself as well. I felt like a connection to him because yeah, that boy is just a touch depressed, and as someone who’s dealt with their own mental health issues and ADHD absolutely making me feel like I’m constantly failing everyone including myself …….. good lord did his arc make me feel some feelings. Like he took that darkness - namely the dagger - and he used it to fight his way out. And then he’s a fucking hero of the horn. That is unironically super fucking inspiring to me.

- Nynaeve not being able to channel on command, being almost afraid of the power she can wield (I think that’s the angle they’re going for at least - though it also does seem to be very attached to her emotions). Out of all the main character squad: I liked her the most in the first season. She was very much motivated to protect her friends. Like I do see her kind of as the mother figure of the group (and not in a derisive way - like she will absolutely fuck a person up if they hurt her friends as we saw in season 2 with that sul’dam), the “heart” in the five man band. Like *almost* like Katara in a way and I really loved Katara so there you go.

- honorable mention to Moiraine because she thought that she had to handle this shit on her own. She had to figure out what Ishamael and the Dark One were planning while protecting Rand and also dealing with the aftershocks of her being cut off from the One Power. Something that Verin very much analogized to being assaulted or raped. And Moiraine just kept trucking, carrying the burden of what she felt like her own responsibilities like she carried those fucking buckets up the hill. The season was her realizing she could rely on others and she didn’t have to be as closed off as she was being. And oh my god once she got the One Power back she (a woman who was already plenty fucking badass during this entire season) like went to fucking S-tier levels of badass. God I fucking love her.

Basically: I’m saying that I loved season 2 very very much and I’m now rooting for these crazy kids to fuck shit up and save the world.

Also I love every single woman in this show who’s not Renna or the Seanchan because fuck those slavery loving assholes.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Ola Zoro x male reader head cannons SFW/NSFW

Female aligned and minors dni 18+ only blog

Sorry it took so long for new content I have had some of the worst writers block ever and I just watched one piece live action and I’m feeling some way for Zoro, anyway I hope you enjoy ;}

SFW

Zoro as a lover is cold around people and doesn’t display affection around others with you but once the two of you are alone he is a different person he likes the closeness but he will never admit it. Zoro is very touched starved from all his years of pirate hunting and training so he can get clingy at times without noticing

Zoro is very protective of you even more than he is with his crew because you are the first man that he has ever been with and he doesn’t want to lose you. Zoro’s love language is quality time he loves helping you or just spending the days laying around with you and his crew, since he isn’t the best at expressing his emotions and how he feels he likes showing you how he feels by spending time together.

When Zoro first started to like you he denied himself a lot by saying how he felt for you was “unnatural” and he shouldn’t feel this way about another man much less his crew mate. Zoro had some deep rooted internalized homophobia from when he was a kid some of the things from that time period was look down on.

Zoro has since gotten over his old beliefs after he met you, you have helped him accept himself and be ok with being in love with another man and now Zoro wouldn’t change that for the world.

NSFW

When you and Zoro finally have sex he is very gentle and doesn’t want to hurt you. Zoro is a dom and a top he can be a soft or hard dom depending on his mood but your first time together he was soft and intimate.

Zoro is into bondage and bdsm he also has a soft spot for knife play or in his case swords, he will tie you up and fuck you on your back while tracing a knife down your neck and chest.

Zoro makes you have a safe word and will ask you how you feel during more extreme sex. Zoro love your chest and nipples, Zoro will fuck you on all fours while playing with your nipples from behind.

Zoro love sucking and teasing the tip of your dick until it is all red and leaky like a faucet he enjoys the feeling of being in control of your orgasms and love to watch you rut up against his hand trying to get any friction while you whine and beg.

Zoro love biting and sucking on your neck, stomach, thighs Zoro loves seeing you fucked out on his cock while he sees the bruised and bloody marks on your body and he knows your into it by the way your cock twitches every time he licks the blood off you.

Zoro goes crazy anytime you beg him to fuck you but he makes you wait until you break and start crying and begging he loves seeing the salty tears and your flushed red cheeks being all desperate and frustrated for him it makes him go crazy and fuck you like there is no tomorrow.

[exoticb-utters]

Hello!

So I saw that your requests were open, and would like to ask for a Hank McCoy (Wolverine and the X-Men) x Reader short story, if that isn't too much trouble. If that's not on the table, I'm sorry for bothering you.

YES OFC, I haven’t been writing much, and instead, I’ve been posting a lot more art so it’s about time I get back in touch with my roots 🙏🏽 (sorry this took me forever omg) pls enjoy 😘

Confessions

Hank x Mutant Reader Word Count: 2.7k Words

Mutant Power: Water Manipulation

You’ve been a member of the X-men for the last 3 years. Yes, that’s almost 3 years you’ve had a crush on Henry McCoy. 

I mean, how could you not? He was so sweet, and always put aside time for you whenever you needed it. He’s also, like, insanely hot…

While you do have a huge soft spot for Hank, everyone had given you a warm welcome when you joined of course, this team was your family. More of a family than your parents; who called you a freak for doing ‘tricks’ with their drinks.

You’d make frequent trips to the lab, knowing all too well there would be a big blue hermit waiting for you. As you did this, Hank could never bring himself to admit the embarrassing fact- but your frequent visits were the highlights of his day.

The rest of the team were amazing family to him of course, but no one checked in or visited Hank as often as you did.

Most of the time anyone usually ever came down was if they needed something; nothing this personal. It was new, but it was nice for a change. 

Your jokes with him never got old, and your smile that came with it could only make it better. The willingness you had to sit around and let him rant about the latest experiment that had him losing sleep, to even offer a hand with whatever he was struggling with. Your innocent praises glorifying how smart he was had him hiding his growing blush by looking behind a microscope. 

“I’m afraid blue blushes too, my dear…” He would joke, causing you to smile and chuckle. Ugh who loves a hot, funny nerd. You’d chuckle to yourself. 

Oh who was he kidding, Hank was head over heels. While he tries to use his brain to rationally sugar coat things, he knew he was helpless. 

Your attention to detail was incredible, you somehow remember all of his favorite things without fail. You were just so…thoughtful. 

He couldn’t help but feel a bit selfish, wanting more than your visits down to his lab, the long talks, your presence. He was going crazy.

Then, every night you’d find yourself laying awake in your thoughts, knowing he couldn’t possibly feel the same.

You’d never put your friendship on the line for something so…selfish. 

The thought ate away at your conscious, the numbing sound of your fan tuned out by your busy mind. You sigh, rolling over to your side while pulling your blanket with you. 

You don’t know why you were like this.

You and Hank are…friends. Which is fine- even though it hurts. You are fine with it, and you’ve been fine for the past 3 years.

…for the most part anyway. 

♡ ♡ ♡

You were now hanging out with Hank in his lab, legs dangling over the edge as you talked to each other. Something about a new opera showing happening in town.

Suddenly, you hear Xavier telepathically call for the rest of the X-Men to meet him in the control room, suited up. Must be a mission.

You were informed the Jaggernaut had escaped custody, again.

All X-Men that were on stand-by were now assigned on this task. The team consisted of you, Hank, Cyclops, Jean, Wolverine, Nightcrawler, and of course Storm. Stacked team if you say so yourself.

Everyone was in the Blackbird with the sole goal of neutralizing the Jaggernaut before he caused severe harm. 

Cyclops was put in charge, giving direct orders as he looked to you and Ororo. “I need you and Storm to direct him towards us, we need to keep him separated from civilians. Meaning I need a tall wall of water, Storm you freeze it making sure he won’t be able to get through.” 

You both looked to one another with nod. Scott then turns around to Hank who was piloting the jet. “Hank you go with them and watch from above and make sure things don’t get to out of hand. If they do we need your strength to counter-attack.” 

Hank replies with a “on it” before tilting the jet to left, bringing the stealth instrument closer to the designated location. 

“Logan you’re taking the wheel while those three get dropped down. Everyone else is with me.” Scott said finally while Hank clicked some buttons before switching with Logan. The bottom hatch of the plane opened up, allowing you, Storm, and Beast to exit. 

Storm flew to her position in the air, leaving you and Hank free falling towards the ground. Hank turned to look at you expectantly, blue hair blowing wildly in the wind. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” You chuckle. You outstretched your arms towards a nearby pond you spotted earlier. Pulling your hands back to your chest in a stream-like manner, a large funnel of water shot out towards you and Hank. 

You grabbed Hank’s arm as the funnel reached you, changing the water into a shape similar to a slide with your free hand. You surfed down the water, holding onto Hank making sure he kept up- and knowing him, it was also preventing him from falling off.

As you neared the ground, you spun the water into a wide spiral to slow down your momentum for an easy landing. 

“I’m still impressed you can do that with your hands.” Hank comments as you reach the ground, earning an amused huff from you. “Well it took some practice,” You trail off, your eyes now looking at his crazy wind blown hair. 

“Actually, I’m more impressed your hair can take that shape…” You snort, biting on ur fist to hold in your laugh. It looked like he had an insane cowlick…well, maybe if the cow had 4 tongues.

“…what?” He said before quickly bringing up a hand to his hair. While he was busy fixing his crazed hair, you spot Storm flying over.

“I’ve located the Juggernaut, he’s down the street!” She briefly informs you before taking off, flying further down the street. 

“Right right, back to business.” You say, waving an arm around yourself to recollect your water. Hank takes off, leaping after Ororo as you ride your stream of water. 

You hear loud commotion around your surroundings the further you went, hopefully you arrived in time. You spot the Juggernaut on the street, wildly flipping cars as if he were in a mad rampage. One was now launched and flying in midair- towards you, specifically.  

You expertly weave around it, spinning upside down in doing so. Before he can flip anymore cars you jump, using all surrounding water to form a wall as Scott instructed. 

You hear a crack of thunder overhead as you land, the air chilling and the clouds growing darker. With a strong gust of wind, the walls you made froze over. You see Storm fly into view along with the rest of the X-Men behind you.

Beast jumps onto a light post, swinging on the end before propelling himself onto the large wall of ice.

The Juggernaut’s actions were now solely limited to facing the X-Men head on. Realizing this, he began charging with full force towards the rest of the team.

“Get his helmet off!!” Cyclops orders before bringing two fingers to his visor, firing off his laser beams.

Night Crawler bamfs around the brute, landing on his shoulders for brief moments, attempting to unlatch the dome.

You shape your water into a whip, ready to attack if the villain closes in. You see Storm raise her hands, calling down thunder as lightning begins to target the Jaggernaut.

You even see Jean pressing her temple with two fingers, using her telepathy with the other outstretched hand to slow down the pursuer.

He wavered just barely under her prowess, the strong bolts only slowing him down slightly before Wolverine decides it’s time he steps in.

With a growl, Logan leaps towards him with his adimantium claws extended before being swatted away by the Juggernaut’s large hand.

Not a moment later he grabs onto Nightcrawler and tosses him aside as well, throwing him on top of Wolverine.

The X-Men were losing options, and fast.

You had to do something.

You swing your water whip from underneath the Juggernaught before quickly whipping it back against his head, effectively tripping him and causing him to topple toward.

Before he could regain his footing completely, you call back all your water to blast him with as much force as you could muster.

And…It was working! He was regressing in distance.

…Until he took a step.

And then another.

And another.

It wasn't long before he began fully charging toward you.

Your concentrated expression quickly fell to one filled with fear and disbelief. “Watch out!” You heard Jean, Scott, and Cyclops warn in unison.

Their cries were all in vain, a large hand splashing out of the water had taken hold of your face. You felt your feet lift off the ground as you were directly dangling in the air, at the mercy of an unstoppable force. In this position, the Jaggernaught could easily crush your skull if he so pleased.

“I will find Xavier. And I will make him pay.” The brute speaks as his grip on your head steadily tightens, your chest burning as you screamed in sheer horror at the increasing pressure.

From above, Hank was almost hesitant to give away his position as the others before you attacked- he knew they could hold their own. But watching you face the Juggernaught head-on…Seeing how your life was in such jeopardy, hearing your screams, Hank had no second thoughts about intervening and saving you.

With a distant roar, you hear Beast come down on the Juggernaut. He releases you, but at the cost of you falling; and of course- hitting your head on the pavement.

Your head began pounding, ears ringing as the corners of your vision grew fuzzy with dark spots. All you could see was a flurry of blue viciously wrestling with a large brownish blob. More figures rushed into the picture before a redhead precluded your vision, concern written all over her face.

“Stay with me! Don’t close your eyes and just listen to my voice…“ Her words began to fade out as the black dots in your vision clouded the world around you.

Your head rolled to the side, your closing eyes finding the blue figure before your heavy eyelids inevitably shut.

Hank.

♡ ♡ ♡

You slowly awoke to a steady beeping of a monitor nearby, your eyes softly fluttering open. Looking up to the ceiling, you recognized it as the flat cement ceiling of Hank’s Lab.

Before you could get up, you felt the intense throbbing pain coming from the back of your head. Had you really hit your head that hard?

Well if it had knocked you clean out it must’ve been…

“You’re awake!” You hear a familiar voice call out to your right. It wasn’t long before a blue face came into view, blocking the blinding glare of the overhead fluorescent lights.

“How are you feeling?!?” Your vision slowly focused in on the figure in front of you. “Good…I think.” You slowly sit up, rubbing the back of your head tenderly.

You notice you had an IV inserted into your right forearm. Without another thought you removed it, ready to go…to wherever you were needed.

“Woah, there- you should slow down it’s been…a bit and you're still recovering.” Hank warns, grabbing your wrist to keep you from moving any further.

You looked to his face…he was worried??? “Hank, I’m fine! See?” You said reassuringly; though, Hank himself didn’t find himself too convinced.

“Hey, what are you so worried about?” You ask, brows drawn together hoping to get a straight answer out of him.

He was worried about you, obviously. You suffered several traumatic head injuries within a short span of time! If you had not been a mutant…he didn’t even want to think of the possible outcomes of that situation.

Hank sighed heavily, organizing his racing thoughts. “I thought I’d lost you.” He managed to drag out.

Huh?

Scared??

That he lost...YOU?!?

“Hank, I think I’ve suffered greater injuries. You should know this.” You say with a small laugh before quickly stopping, his solemn expression instantly killing your attempt to lighten the mood.

His large hands grab your wrists firmly. “You have been out for a month.” His words shook you, so much so that you found yourself shaking your head in disbelief.

You hadn’t been out for longer than a day, right?

Hank must’ve sensed your reluctancy to believe your current situation because he started again. “You suffered several fractures to your skull, luckily, nothing broken or opposing threats to your brain. Unfortunately the stress your skull took on added with the hard contact of the ground practically split your head open.” He explained, running a hand down his tired face.

You hadn’t realized this had happened. “But I’m…I’m okay now, aren’t I?” You ask hesitantly, raising a hand up carefully to the back of your head. You felt stitches, running up the back of your head. Your stomach dropped.

“I performed an emergency medical procedure…which I won’t go into details with you so soon…” He sighed heavily once again, plopping down in his wheeled office chair.

“I hadn’t realized…” You quietly trailed off while fidgeting with your fingers out of nervous habit.

Hadn’t realized what? How bad the situation was? How worried the other X-Men must be? How much Hank went through to make sure you were well?!?

“Please, it isn’t your fault. If anything, this situation has made me realize something…” Now it was Hank’s turn to dramatically pause, his head in his large, blue hands.

“What? What is it?” You ask nervously, fearing your health was in critical condition at this point.

He grabbed you by the shoulders once again, looking into your eyes deeply, “Because…because I fear I’m falling in love with you.”

You stared in utter shock. Had you heard him correctly? He feels the same way?!?

“I-I want to come home to you, to kiss you like it’s been eons since I last saw your face. I need you safe, I don’t know how I’ll live with myself if you aren’t-” You didn’t need to hear anymore. 

You grabbed him by his lab coat, pulling him into you as your lips pressed together in a flurry of passion.

He held onto you, hungrily chasing after your lips as he poured all the love he’d helplessly held in for so long.

Your hands slowly slid up his broad chest and towards his neck, finding themselves tangled in his soft hair. “Hank” You sighed against his lips, the kiss ripping all oxygen from your lungs and leaving you breathless in the process.

He groans into your mouth in response, his tongue running against your bottom lip, silently begging for access.

Your heated ‘session’ was abruptly cut short by the lab door sliding open. Hank shot up, nearly taking a tumble trying to remove himself from you- to avoid any suspicion of…previous actions of course.

Though, the scene didn’t look too convincing; seeing how Hank’s glasses laid crooked on his face and his hair was well tussled. You had to cover your giggle at his appearance.

It was Morph, Cyclops, and Logan. They all start laughing, causing the rest of the X-men to come in, groaning in defeat.

“Woah, woah- were all of you just standing outside the door?!?” Hank exclaimed.

“Pay up, daddy’s waiting.” Logan holds out a hand expectantly towards the other X-Men, a smirk displayed across his face while completely ignoring Hank.

“I knew I should’ve bet with Logan.” Rogue mumbles, fishing out money from her pockets along with the rest of the team.

Oh yes. This was only the beginning of a long, beautiful (and heavily teased) relationship with Hank.

I hope you enjoyed this cute little one-shot! ;)

If you want more like this or want something written, please hit up my ask box! Requests are always open 💕 Until next time🫡🫡

-Mae

[makoodles]

tìsom | tsu'tey [nsfw]

masterlist

pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

word count: 5k words

warnings: [nsfw] human/na'vi relationship, oral sex (fem receiving), size difference, face sitting, heat cycles

summary: tìsom: [tI."som] P F n. heat

Tsu'tey is a strong mate; he is cautious, considerate, and protective, and he always provides for you.

And yet, human/Na'vi relationships come with a learning curve. That learning curve comes with surprises regarding certain biological urges

read it on ao3!

“You must squeeze your thighs more, ma’yawne.”

“I’m trying,” You complain, shifting your weight on the back of the enormous direhorse. “I don’t think she likes me.”

Tsu’tey gestures pointedly at the spot where his queue is connected to the direhorse’s, linking them mentally. His tsaheylu is probably the only reason his direhorse hasn’t thrown you into the dirt by now.

“We are connected,” He points out to you, as if you’ve missed his meaning. “She could not dislike you.” Then he grins, the sharp points of his teeth poking out from beneath his lip. “More than likely, you are too little for her to feel on top of her.”

You roll your eyes, beginning to get irritated. This whole riding exercise had been his idea in the first place! You were perfectly content on the ground! It was pointless practice considering you wouldn’t be able to ride without Tsu’tey around, anyway.

“Come,” He says, and his hand lands heavily on your thigh, big and warm. “Squeeze your thighs. Show her you are there.”

It doesn’t matter how often he touches you; the feeling of his big hand spreading over you makes you feel so impossibly small. It’s such a heady feeling, and you bite back a grin instinctively. God, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to that. He’s being so touchy today, it’s driving you a little crazy.

This time, when you squeeze your thighs the animal beneath you responds by taking a few cautious steps forward. You let out a startled laugh, clutching at the direhorse’s neck and turning to give Tsu’tey an enormous grin.

“Oh shit, look! She’s moving!” You yelp.

Tsu’tey only hums in response, though he’s not doing a very good job at hiding the way his own mouth is twitching. It’s pretty obvious that the only reason the direhorse is moving at all is because Tsu’tey is guiding it through the tsaheylu, but you appreciate that he’s allowing you to take the credit for it anyway.

“You’re a natural, demon.” He says, the familiar old insult dripping with unmistakable fondness. 

You perk up at the compliment, despite the fact that it’s really just Tsu’tey leading you around on the pal’i. You feel like a little kid going for a ponyride at a fair, but damn if it isn’t unexpectedly fun. You start to relax into the gentle sway of the direhorse’s gait, enjoying the weight of Tsu’tey’s hand on your thigh. It’s surprisingly peaceful, especially when Tsu’tey’s thick thumb strokes over your thigh like he just can’t help himself.

When the pal’i begins to step away from the clearing in the back of the village towards the forest, you shoot Tsu’tey a look with raised eyebrows.

He just smirks at your questioning expression, clearly amused. “You do not trust me?”

“I trust you.” You say immediately. “But your pal’i is barely tolerating me as is-”

“She is tolerating you just fine.” Tsu’tey interrupts you lazily, reaching up to stroke a broad hand over his pali’s neck.

There’s no argument you can think of for that, so you decide to just go along for the ride. It’s a beautiful afternoon, and it’s the first time in a while that Tsu’tey has managed to free himself up from the various duties that he usually performs for the clan. There’s a certain looseness to his shoulders that tells you he’s enjoying this just as much as you are, especially as his hands never stray from you once. 

The forest is alive in the late afternoon sunshine. Ancient roots erupt out of the dirt and fan over the ground like hairs, and the moss that covers the trunks of the trees is such a deep green that it almost seems like paint pigment. Tsu’tey is careful to lead the direhorse around any tripping hazards, his hand on your thigh keeping you steady and safe on the direhorse’s back.

You hadn’t been lying when you told Tsu’tey that you trusted him. You’re content to go along with his little ride, resting your own smaller hand on top of his as he leads your mount along through the trees. Eventually, Tsu’tey leads the direhorse through the trees into a tiny copse of glowing flora.

“Wow.” You start to smile, lifting your head to gaze around at the phosphorescent fungi-like growths sprouting out of the ground and surrounding trees. It’s stunning, just like most of Pandora. The alien beauty of the planet still manages to steal your breath away sometimes, no matter how long you’ve been here.

You’re so distracted by the plants around you that you don’t notice Tsu’tey disconnecting his queue from the pal’i. When his hands land on your waist you let out a soft noise of surprise that’s cut off as he lifts you bodily from the back of the animal, swinging your legs around and placing you gently on your feet in front of him. He slaps his palm lightly against the direhorse’s rear, sending her careening into the forest to graze.

“I thought we would spend the afternoon outside the village.” He says once you’ve got your balance, and he reaches out to fiddle with your exo-mask to ensure it’s firmly attached to your face.

That sounds really nice. The Omaticaya encampment has become home to you, and the people are so gracious when it comes to accepting you considering what your kind has done to their planet, but sometimes the urge to just escape somewhere far from all the curious, prying eyes of the villagers.

When Tsu’tey lowers himself to the spongey moss floor of the forest, you’re quick to follow after him. It feels like laying on foam, and you end up rolling on your back and gazing up at the canopy of trees far above your head. You’re vaguely aware of Tsu’tey settling himself beside you, laying on his side so he can look down at you, but you’re distracted by the luminescent moss cushioning the ground where you lay.

“You’re staring at me.” You murmur, a smile tugging at your lips.

You don’t turn your head, but you can see Tsu’tey’s big golden eyes fixed on your face out of the corner of your eyes. His gaze feels like a physical weight pinning you in place, his tail undulating lazily in the air as he watches you. 

“I am allowed to stare,” Tsu’tey’s smooth voice rumbles, sending a tiny little tremble running up your spine. “I am thinking.”

“Oh yeah?” You’re trying to sound as casual as possible, but you’re sure that you fall way short. “What are you thinking?”

Tsu’tey doesn’t speak immediately. He’s quiet long enough that you raise your head to look at him. Like this, his gaze is even more intense. His eyes drift from your face down to your shoulders, over your chest, down your hips, and then along the length of your legs. 

The atmosphere on Pandora is humid and hot like the rainforests of Earth, and the heat had gotten to you in the last couple of days – you had abandoned the standard RDA-issued cargos and tank top in favour of one of the sun-dresses that you had brought with you from home. The little dress is impractical but pretty, a truly self-indulgent treat for yourself, and it certainly seems like Tsu’tey likes it too.

Eventually, his big eyes trail back up to your face and settle there. “I am thinking that I want you.”

Your cheeks heat, skin going prickly as you shift where you’re laying. Ah. That certainly explains the heat in his stare. 

“You had me this morning,” You remind him, biting your lip as you grin at the memory.

His ears twitch, and his teeth flash as a matching grin grows across his face. “Yes. I remember.”

When his hand comes creeping across your stomach, you snort. The two of you have come a long way from your first meeting, when he had seen you as nothing more than an annoyance, a demon. It’s almost hard to believe that it’s the same man who is looking at you now, with his twitching ears and pupils blown wide.

You turn to look at him properly, but this time you note the way his tail is undulating across the soft grass and the way that the little bioluminescent dots scattered across his face and body are emitting a soft but insistent sort of glow. The expression on his face is… odd. His pupils are blown much wider than usual, and the way he’s watching you is eerily reminiscent of a predator. He’s always been intense, but this kind of a gaze is a bit much, even for him.

“What’s up with you?” You ask, laughing a little as you reach out to playfully grab at his twitching tail.

It’s something you’ve done plenty of times before – Tsu’tey is always so serious and austere, and it usually makes his stern veneer crack a little when you initiate such a playful move. He’ll usually snort and swat at your head, or roll his eyes and tug at you in return. However, that is not what happens this time.

When you wrap your fingers around the velvety soft, whip-like tail and tug, Tsu’tey’s head falls back as he lets out a groan that sounds as though it’s been punched out of him.

You whip your hand away at once, eyes growing huge. “Oh, god! I’m so sorry, did I hurt yo-”

The rest of your sentence is lost as the air whooshes out of your lungs – Tsu’tey’s entire big-ass body has just rolled over onto you, trapping you beneath his hot skin and big arms. He’s still careful to keep most of his weight off you, clearly conscious of crushing you, but the bulk of his body presses you right into the cushy moss beneath you. His face presses right into your throat, and you can feel his hot breath as he takes deep, snuffling inhales.

“Fuck.” He grunts, and despite your surprise you have to bite back a laugh. It’s always a little comical to hear him use human sayings that he’s clearly picked up from you.

“Fuck,” You echo back in agreement, still trying to catch your breath as he bears down on you. It’s as though he’s trying to press your bodies as tight together as he can manage. “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s gotten into you?”

“Tìsom,” He groans, and you jolt as his big hands land on your thighs and he pulls you to meet his crotch. 

The hardness there is unmistakable, his tiny tewng doing hardly anything to conceal it. He grinds against you, the movement and the pressure sending little zings of pleasure shooting right up into your lower belly.

“Tìsom,” You repeat, bewildered. You don’t know this word, and he doesn’t seem to be too fussed about explaining it to you.

“It started this morning,” He mumbles into your neck, his lips leaving wet trails across your skin as he takes a series of deep breaths. “It has gotten stronger through the day. I need you now, I wish to have you right here, my little mate.”

You still aren’t sure what he’s talking about, but when he humps up against you again you’re pretty quick to abandon your curiosity. He certainly had been horny this morning when he had rolled you over and fucked you right there in the bed, but that had been different. It had been softer, tinged with a hint of desperation but lacking any real urgency. This is different. This feels as though he’s trying to crawl right underneath your skin.

“Tsu’tey,” You gasp as his hands begin to ruck up the soft fabric of your sundress. Damn, you knew it was impractical to wear the damn thing, but you can’t bring yourself to regret it when he peels himself away from your throat so he can look down at you with fierce interest as he pulls the hem up around your waist.

He grunts softly at the sound of his name, his gaze swinging up towards your face. His eyes look a little glassy, but he focuses on your face and you see his pupils have blown so wide that all you can see of his iris is a thin golden ring around the edges.

“What is tìsom?” You ask, watching with widened eyes as he takes deep, snuffling breaths.

“Heat,” He grits out. “I am- I can smell you. I must-”

He pushes himself up onto his elbows and begins to shuffle down the length of your body, but you barely even notice his progress. Your mind has stuck on the first thing he had said; heat. 

Surely that doesn’t mean what you think it means. Do the Na’vi have heat cycles? You haven’t heard anyone bring that up before. Good god, why has no one brought that up before? That seems like something you ought to know!

Your thoughts don’t get to spiral any further, because Tsu’tey’s big head pushes its way between your thighs. Your legs fall open to make room for him instinctively – it makes you feel like a wanton idiot, but then he’s nuzzling you right at the juncture of your thigh and suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore. Your thoughts are washed away by the feeling of his damp, hot breath against you.

He takes a soft, snuffling breath, then sighs out a little moan. “You smell so sweet, ma’tawtute.”

His teeth graze over the cotton of your panties, causing your spine to lock up at the sensation. That should definitely be embarrassing, you think. It certainly shouldn’t have you throbbing, tightening, hunching your shoulders. 

“I don’t-”

With a purr, he wedges his nose between your thighs. You let out a short, startled shriek, and grab a handful of his braids. His tongue is so big, a swath of wet warmth that can lave over your whole mound and everything below it in one lick. In a few more licks your panties are soaked from both sides.

 When you can't stand the feel of damp cloth on you anymore you push his nose away, just enough to let you lift your hips and drag the panties off and kick them aside.

He only barely allows you enough time to toss them aside before he’s pushing his head right back between your legs, his face pressing right up against you with a needy groan. His tongue pokes out yet again, but this time the rough, hot, wet texture is pressed right up against your bare flesh. The sensation is dizzying, and you lean your head backward, pillowed against the soft moss, looking up dizzily at the sun through the boughs of the trees. You rock your hips into the press of his tongue, feeling like you’re melting under it.

You had assumed, when he said heat and then rolled atop you, that he was about to spread your legs and pound you right into the ground. You certainly wouldn’t have been opposed to that, but Tsu’tey remains entirely preoccupied with his face buried against your pussy – he shows no sign of shifting at all.

He sucks on your clit, and when you tug at his hair he lets out a growl that reverberates against your core and has you clenching around nothing. His tongue quests lower, and you let out a pleasured little sigh as his tongue presses against your slit and then in – the texture of his tongue is rough and textured, and you squirm against his face as he licks at you with such enthusiasm that it leaves you reeling. You know that you’re wet from your own slick already, but Tsu’tey is messy as he slurps at you. His mouth leaves you sodden and dripping, the coarseness of his tongue leaving you gasping as his flat nose bumps and grinds against your clit.

Just then he tilts his head, searching for an angle that lets him slide his tongue deeper in. It's too big – at least, it ought to be too big, but it's hot and wet and thick and your body just wants that, wants him. Caught without any breath to moan, you reach down with both hands and spread your own swollen lips. He licks hard, growling into you, so you feel the sweet thrum of it right on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck, oh yes,” You gasp out eagerly, lifting your head so that you can look down at him.

Though his head is still buried between your thighs, the rest of him is moving restlessly.

His hips roll insistently against the soft, spongey moss beneath him. His cock is hard and leaking, the bulbous tip of it glowing insistently as it glints with its sweet little bioluminescent dots. He grinds relentlessly against the soft, cushioned forest floor, grunting out soft little moans of appreciation right into your core.

The sight of him so lost in his own pleasure is both startling and impossibly arousing, and with a short sob you grab hold of his hair, clenching your fists into the roots of his braids. He growls once more, like it's an affirmation, as though he’s acknowledging your wordless noises of desperation.

But then, shockingly abruptly, he pulls his head back and shoves himself back up onto his elbows, looming over you.

“It is not enough.” He says, and you’re absolutely floored to hear the edge of a whine in his voice.

This is Tsu’tey, the proudest man and the fiercest warrior you’ve ever met. To see him like this, sweaty and pouting and frenzied as he humps the ground and tries to bury his whole fucking face inside you, is crazy.

“What do you-” You start to ask, but he seems to have gotten into the habit of interrupting you today. 

His arms hook around your thighs, which had been splayed out over his biceps, and then in a move so fast that you’re not even sure how he manages it, he flips your positions. When you manage to reorient yourself, you find yourself perched on his stomach – he’s the one laying on his back against the moss now.

You start to grin. He may be acting strange (in heat! Your brain screams at you. Your big sexy alien is in heat!), but this position, at least, is familiar. You know how to take care of him like this. You reach to pull your dress over your head, tossing it to the side before looking back to him with a cheeky grin.

“Ah,” You say playfully, glancing over your shoulder before reaching back to grasp his cock where it’s laying proudly against his thigh. “You want me to ride you, big guy?”

Fuck, his cock is hard. It actually surprises you when you wrap your fingers around it – it feels like a goddamn lead pipe.

He lets out a punched out groan as his lip curls back over his teeth, tossing his head back against the moss as he hisses towards the sky. He looks almost feral, lost to his own arousal in a way you’ve never seen before. And yet, what he says next surprises you.

“In a way,” He grunts, his hips twitching as he humps his cock into your small grip. “Sit on my face.”

You still and blink, surprised. “What?”

It’s not that the request is shocking (you’ve never actually done that with him, but damn the request alone has jolts of electric excitement shooting up your spine), but the fact that he’s asking for this when his cock is swollen and oozing insistently against his belly is absolutely bizarre. 

When you release your hold on his dick his hips hump into the air, as though seeking your touch. He looks so desperate – how could he turn down the chance for relief?

"Sit on my face." Tsu’tey repeats, overenunciating each word as though he were talking to someone especially stupid. There’s no way of misunderstanding him this time, and his ears are pressed back against his head as he awaits your response.

“But-” You start, glancing over your shoulder at his painful-looking erection.

His big hands land on your ass, and he uses his grip there to pull you so insistently that you slide right up to his chest. Fucking hell, he’s really insistent about this, and he’s so much bigger than you that manhandling seems to come easily to him.

Hesitantly, you shuffle forward until you’re hovering awkwardly over his face. Like this, naked and exposed as Tsu’tey’s hands continue to pressure at your ass, you feel more flustered than you’d like to admit. Especially considering the way that he’s staring up at you with wide-eyed, open-mouthed eagerness.

“What if I smother you?” You ask, cheeks hot with embarrassment. God, you don’t think you’d be able to live that down.

“I would be proud to meet such a fate.” He grunts, his hands kneading and squeezing at the soft flesh of your ass like a goddamn cat. 

“Fucking hell.” You mutter, but you can’t stop yourself from letting out a soft, breathless laugh.

His impatient eagerness is wearing away at your hesitance, and the next time he tugs at your hips, you allow yourself to be manoeuvred so that you’re lowering yourself over his face. When he purses his lips and blows on your exposed, wet sex, it nearly causes you to overbalance in surprise. 

"Oh!"

"Come," He presses a sloppy kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Let me taste.”

He wraps his forearms around your waist and pulls you down firmly. As soon as you’re settled over his mouth, he starts licking immediately, and you're utterly stunned by the wave of heat that flows through your belly. You have to stick out a hand to grab at his shoulder just to stay upright, your upper body curling over as your hips rock reflexively against the hot, wet heat of his mouth.

"Oh, shit." You blurt, a little overwhelmed as he licks and sucks at you with a single-minded determination that has your thighs trembling around his face in minutes. 

Judging by the pleased little gasps he keeps letting out against you, he doesn’t want to be anywhere else right now. His big hands wrap around your thighs, the size of them making you feel so tiny in comparison as he encourages you to squeeze your thighs around his head.

It doesn't take long before you’re grinding against his face, chasing his tongue against your clit. His mouth is so overwhelmingly hot, so wide and all-encompassing as he sucks at you, and his tongue is so wet and coarse as it rasps against your swollen, sensitive pussy.

You might have been embarrassed about the way you’re humping against his mouth if it weren't for the way that your rocking against his face earns you a soft, hungry whimper from him as he wraps his arms around your back and encourages you to ride his face harder. Your hairline is damp with sweat. You wonder if his tìsom is contagious – it feels like you’re boiling from the inside out.

One of your hands drops down to tangle in his braids, already all messed up from your earlier tugging, and a hard suck to your clit has you jerking over his face, accidentally yanking at the fistful of hair in your hand. You’re not expecting the way he gasps, or the way his hips thrust into the air behind you.

"Oh fuck," You gasp. "Do you like doing this that much? Are you- can you breathe? Will you tell me if you-"

Tsu’tey makes an impatient sort of sound before tilting his head back from his position between your legs. His chest is heaving, and his brow glitters with sweat — he looks ethereally beautiful, and you’re stuck for a moment about how damn lucky you are. 

“Ma’tawtute, the tìsom will rage until I have satisfied my urges,” He says on a sigh, the proud slope of his brow all furrowed with need. “Allow me to satisfy myself with my mate.”

Well, fuck. How could you ever deny him that?

"Yeah," You choke, your eyes fixed on his mouth; it's swollen red and shiny, and you can't stop looking at it as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “Okay. Please, then-”

You don’t need to finish your request. As usual, he reads you without you ever having to say a goddamn thing.

He just grins, wild and unrestrained and looking truly fucking feral, before ducking his head back to start licking eagerly at you all over again. Your breathing is embarrassingly heavy at this stage, but even worse than that are the whimpers that you can't quite keep from spilling over. When your hand clenches and tugs at his hair, he lets out a pleased moan that vibrates right up into your core.

This time when he digs his long fingers into the soft meatiness of your thighs and encourages you to rock against his face, you do so without question. You’re rewarded with a throaty, whiney hiss, and his hips thrust sharply up into the air when you grind your clit down into his waiting tongue. 

You can hear the slap of his cock against his belly as he humps the air, and you gasp at the sheer sensation of it all. It feels as though your nerves have been set alight.

"Fuck," You whisper, grinding down on his tongue. "I- there-! Shit, Tsu’tey, I-" 

You’re really not making all that much sense, but he seems to like your flustered desperation because his hips continue to thrust lazily as he dry humps the air. That just isn't enough for him, apparently, because he releases one of your thighs as his right hand snakes down so he can touch himself while he eats you out.

 The slick sounds of him working his cock are mostly drowned out by the soft, breathy moans he keeps making into your pussy every time he licks into you. His stomach keeps tensing as his hips flex, throaty hisses muffled by you and the way you’re rocking into his mouth.

When Tsu’tey had told you to sit on his face, you hadn't actually thought he would get anything out of it. Perhaps that's why watching him fall apart between your legs is so compelling, and it's causing the sweet, hot tension in your lower belly to coil tighter and tighter until you’re a trembling wreck, ready to shatter apart.

“Oh,” You breathe, your eyes squeezing shut as you clutch at his hair and gasp. “I’m- I’m going to-”

“Yes,” He snarls, still muffled between your legs. “Do it, so sweet, let me taste-”

You’re not the only one close to release – you can tell by the way his hips are bucking, the way that animalistic little growls are tearing their way out of his chest, how fast and rough his fist is pumping at the swollen length of his cock.

When his tongue dips into your folds and locates your clit with absolute precision, your back arches as you come with a little scream. 

You grab at his hair to try and keep his head in place, but he doesn't slow at all as he continues to suckle at you through your orgasm. In fact, his one remaining hand actually clutches at your ass to encourage you to ride it out on his face.

By the time the waves of your orgasm begin to ebb away, you’re shivering and bordering on the edge of overstimulation. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to pull away. Not when he’s suckling at the slickness of your release as though he can’t get enough of it, and not when his goddamn toes are curling into the glowing moss beneath you as he fucks his cock into his own fist.

The sight of him so lost in his own pleasure is both startling and impossibly arousing, and you let out a quiet little noise of surprise as you watch the dots on his cock flicker right as the head pulses. Then he’s growling, his chest rumbling with the force of it as his release erupts from him, ropes of creamy cum spurting onto his belly.

Finally, you pull away from his face, falling back onto his chest with a wheezy gasp. There are still aftershocks of pleasure rocking through you as you shiver; the two of you are sweat-slick and overheated, panting and gasping, but you savour the feeling of Tsu’tey’s naked skin against yours as you clumsily push yourself down so that you’re laying across his chest.

Still catching your breath, you reach out to cup his face fondly. “Oh fuck, look at you.”

When he raises his head, you’re greeted with the sight of his face slick and shiny from his own drool and your release. He’s so messy and his eyes are still blown wide, his ears twitching as his brow slackens into an expression of pleasure. The dots around his face are still glowing, but the intensity of it has dimmed for now.

Your own body goes slack against his, your masked face nestling into his shoulder. The cum on his belly squelches a little when you settle over him, and you can’t help the tired snicker that escapes you.

“So,” You mumble in an exhausted little drawl. “Are you satisfied, big guy?”

That gets you a laugh in response. It’s a rumbly sort of chuckle, and you enjoy the way his chest vibrates under yours. To your surprise, he doesn’t sound as tired as you might have expected. He’s caught his breath much faster than you have, despite the fact that he has significantly more reason than you to be winded.

“It is tìsom, foolish thing.” He murmurs, nuzzling his soft nose into your temple. You can feel him bear his teeth in a grin against your hair. “I will not be satisfied until it is done.”

That’s when you feel the hot, thick press of him against the sensitive, puffy flesh of your pussy. He’s still so hard, as though he had never come at all. Your heart skips, belly clenching in excitement.

Well. You were his little human mate, after all. If he needed help with his tìsom, his heat, of course you would help him out with it. 

The swollen head of his cock catches against the slickness of your pussy, and you moan softly as he presses just slightly into you, just enough to tease you with the stretch of it.

It seems like you have a long night ahead of you.

[faretheeoscar]

OH MY FREAKKK?!

Little baby Poe has my heart :(

Would you consider writing something for little Poe and little reader meeting when they're young? Maybe in kindergarten, reader is more 'rough-and-tumble' than Poe is, getting dirty, climbing up trees, not bothered by pain. A shy Poe really wants to make friends with her but one day at kindergarten, he finds that her family have moved, which upsets him, but the two meet again when they're fighting in the rebellion?

Anyways, I fucking adored baby Poe, I love absolutely everything you write, have a great rest of your day! Huzzah!

Hey noonie! First of all thank you so much for your support! Your kind words mean a lot to me! I kinda went crazy with your request and ended up writing an almost 4k thing, but baby Poe just kept speaking to me! This AU has a hold on my brain and doesn’t let it rest. Had lots of fun making this request!

Thanks again and Happy Poevember!

Roots of the Resistance

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Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

--Warnings: none, just fluffy baby Poe!--

A/N: English is not my first language, so I apologize if there’s any mistakes.

Word count: 4k

In the quiet corner of a little kindergarten on Yavin IV, five-year-old Poe Dameron sits cross-legged, watching as you—the new kid—scale the tallest tree on the playground. Your elbows are scraped, and your knees are dirt-streaked, but you don’t seem to mind at all. You’re perched up high, legs swinging as if you’ve done this a hundred times. With bright eyes and a hint of hesitation, Poe clutches his favourite stuffed tooka doll, Captain Fluff, close to his chest, feeling something between awe and curiosity.

The droid teacher nudges him gently. “You need to make friends Poe, your father gave us instructions for us to encourage you into socialising with the other younglings, why don’t you go say hi?”

Poe glances down, feeling a bit of nervousness, he is not usually the type of kid that’s quiet, or shy around people, he’s always active at home, bouncing eagerly from place to place talking the ears off all the adults he has around, but ever since his mom had been going on missions, he had been having trouble adjusting and talking especially to the other kids that didn’t get him, being enclosed in his fantasy world on fighting for the cause, and just depending on his favourite buddy, Fluff.

Taking a deep breath, he adjusts his grip on Captain Fluff and walks toward the tree. Shyly, he looks up at you, your hair wild and your hands smudged with playground dirt, as you look down with a big, welcoming grin.

“Hi,” he says, his voice small but warm.

“Hi!” you call down, eyes twinkling. You don’t seem surprised to see him, as if you were expecting him to join you, after all you’ve noticed he’d been staring at you for a while now. “You wanna come up?”

Poe’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing pink as he fumbles for words, his little foot nervously tapping the ground, shifting back and forth. “Oh, I… um, not really I was just… wondering what you were doing up there.” He points up, his head tilted back to see you better. “Doesn’t it, you know… feel kinda high?”

You laugh, swinging your legs as you peer down at him. “It’s awesome up here! You can see everything. Like the ships outside the fence,” you say, pointing excitedly to the sky. “When they fly by, it’s like you’re right there with them! Makes me feel like I’m up close to them.”

Poe’s eyes light up, his fear of talking to you, forgotten for a moment. Ships! A topic he is familiar with and can talk about them for hours. “You can see the spaceships… up close?”

“Uh-huh!” you reply with a proud grin. “Come on up, I’ll show you. It’s easy,” you say, reaching down and motioning him to grab the branch.

Feeling an excited flutter in his stomach, Poe puts Captain Fluff under one arm, holding on tight as he tentatively grabs the lowest branch. He starts climbing, a little unsteady, and hesitates when the tree starts to feel taller. You notice his pause, lean down, and give his arm a firm yank to help him up the next branch. He nearly laughs at your outburst of strength, and, before he knows it, he’s sitting beside you, feet dangling in the air.

“There, see?” You point beyond the playground fence, where ships take off and land in the nearby port, and Poe’s jaw drops, watching with wide eyes. The ships look like little metal birds in the distance, zooming by against the sky.

“Whoa… you were right!” he whispers, barely able to contain his amazement. “I’ve never seen them from here before. You can even see them getting ready for takeoff!”

As Poe settles into his spot next to you on the branch, he glances over, gathering his courage to introduce himself.

“I’m… I’m Poe. Poe Dameron,” he says shyly, his cheeks already turning pink. He glances away, quickly looking back up at you. “What’s your name?”

When you introduce yourself Poe repeats your name quietly to himself, as if savouring it. He whispers, as if it’s the most beautiful name in the world… (besides his mom’s obviously). He smiles, then blushes even more, his cheeks burning as he realises you’re watching him. “I think… I think it’s a really nice name,” he adds, glancing shyly at the leaves overhead.

“Thanks,” you say with a big smile, two of your front baby teeth missing from having fallen out recently. “I think Poe’s a cool name too.” When you take a closer look at him, you notice he’s holding something safely under his arm— a handmade doll with white ears and an orange body.

“Hey, who’s this?” you ask, leaning over to get a closer look at the stuffed tooka doll.

Poe’s shyness returns briefly, but he grins, holding out the doll for you to see. “This is Captain Fluff,” he says, his voice suddenly a little more confident. “He’s, uh… he’s my copilot! He goes on all the missions with me.”

You grin excitedly, “Really? You go on missions with him?” With a serious nod, you reach out and gently shake Captain Fluff’s little paw. “Nice to meet you, Captain Fluff, I bet you’re a great pilot.”

Poe beams, clearly delighted that you took Captain Fluff so seriously. “He’s the best,” he says, hugging the tooka doll close. “He always makes sure I’m safe.”

The two of you sit together in the tree, feet swinging as you trade stories about space adventures you’d both want to go on. He learns that you are all about exploring and learning about “vantage points” or all those big words your dad uses when he works on reconnaissance. Poe feels a new kind of bravery here, sitting high up with his new friend, talking about adventure and far-off galaxies. It’s the start of something he is sure he will remember forever.

The weeks that follow your first meeting turn into a whirlwind of adventures for Poe and you. Poe, who once hovered quietly at the edge of the playground, now spends every recess chasing after you like an eager shadow, his shy smile lighting up whenever you invite him on your latest scheme. Whether it’s scaling the school’s low fences to chase after a lizard crab or daring each other to swing as high as possible, Poe is always at your side, wide-eyed and ready to be brave.

You show him how to climb trees without slipping, leap across muddy puddles without falling, and you help him to face up his fear of leviathan grubs, by using a stick and practically shoving it up to his face for him to see the little worm, you tell him they seem harmless but they are fearless predators when they grow up, but one that’s little as the one on your stick? Your loth cat devours them for lunch. Together, you also build forts out of fallen branches, Poe declares you as his “official lieutenant” of your own makeshift Alliance. Every day with you feels like a new mission, a new world to explore.

One afternoon after school, you and Poe are out exploring, looking for the perfect place to keep on practising “drills”. As you wander near the edge of the old market, you spot some ruins, crumbling and hidden beneath layers of overgrown vines and moss. The walls rise higher than anything you’ve climbed before, making it the ultimate challenge in your eyes. 

“This is it,” you say, grinning. “This is going to be the hardest climb yet, Commander Poe. We’ve got to face it if we want to be ready for anything.” You point at the jagged edges of the stone wall, feeling the rush of excitement build up inside you. “It’s going to be tough, but that’s what makes it perfect for ‘recon.’”

Poe hesitates, glancing up at the ruins. His eyes widen with both excitement and nerves. “But… are we allowed to be up there?” he asks, looking around as if expecting someone to stop you.

You give him a sly grin. “Who’s going to stop us? Come on, Poe, don’t chicken out now. This is the ultimate challenge! If we can climb this, then we can face anything.” You nudge him with your shoulder. “I’m doing it—are you?”

Poe looks unsure for a moment but then puffs out his chest, trying to look braver. “I’m not a chicken,” he says, his voice a little shaky but determined. 

“Prove it,” you challenge, offering him your hand. “Boost you up first?”

With a deep breath, Poe nodes, taking your hand. You help him up to the first ledge, encouraging him with every step. He climbs higher, using your tips for where to put his hands and feet. When he reaches the top, his eyes widen with pride. “I did it!” he cheers, a bit breathless looking down at you with a grin, lending his hand to you to take, tugging you up towards him, as you did the first time you helped him climb the tree at school. “Told you I was no chicken!”

You both bicker and chuckle for a while, treading dangerously on the ledge of the walls until the path narrows, you both decide to go back, but just as he’s about to climb down first, you both freeze. You hear voices on the other side of the ruins. Slowly, you both peek over the top and spot something unexpected: Kes, Poe’s dad, and your dad, alongside other adults standing together, looking over some papers and talking in hushed voices.

Poe’s face drops as he freezes, realising you’ve stumbled into a place you weren’t supposed to be. The two of you exchange a quick, worried glance, but before you can move, Kes looks up and catches your eye. His expression shifts from surprise to something a little more serious.

“What are you two doing up there?” he calls, crossing his arms.

Caught red-handed, Poe scrambles down, his face flushed with guilt. “We… uh… we were just doing some recon, Dad,” 

Kes gives him a pointed look, his eyes narrowing. “Recon? Is that what you’re calling it?” He sighs, shaking his head. “You’re too high up. If you fell… Poe, you’re not just putting yourself at risk, you’re dragging others into trouble too. You know better than this.”

Poe’s shoulders slump, his stomach twisting as the words sink in. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he mutters, his voice barely audible as he avoids eye contact.

With a defiant grin, you think you can make things better, unbothered by the mild scolding of Poe’s dad, you try to speak for the both of you. “We were just training to look out for Empire spies,” you explain with a serious nod. “Poe and I have been training hard to be ready!”

Your dad steps forward, his arms crossed and his face hard with disapproval.“Enough excuses,” he says firmly. “You two. Climb down. Now.” His tone is firm, making it clear he’s not happy about this either.

The weight of his voice leaves no room for argument, and with a sigh, you carefully follow Poe’s lead, your heart heavy as you descend. Once you’re both on the ground, your dad grips your arm, his gaze stern. “We’ll talk about this at home,you’re in deep trouble.” he says evenly, the promise of consequences hanging in the air.

As you’re led away, you glance back at Poe, who lingers for a moment, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head hanging low. He manages a small, sad smile, lifting a hand in a subdued wave. You return the gesture, your own heart sinking under the weight of guilt and frustration.

Despite everything, the unspoken understanding between you lingers, a quiet reassurance that, no matter the scolding, you’ll both bounce back from this together.

After the incident, the weekend passes, and even though you were both grounded for what you did, Poe knows that he’d continue following you everywhere, eager to learn from you. Even if he’s a little nervous, he finds himself braver each time, when he’s with you, taking bigger leaps, climbing higher places, and facing every little “danger” you point out. For Poe, every scraped knee and every muddy shoe feels worth it, as long as you’re there beside him, his lieutenant and best friend.

When Poe arrives at kindergarten in the morning with a bright smile, he’s very eager to tell you about the spaceship toy his mom had sent him alongside a cargo that came to the rebel post. But when he reaches the classroom, his smile falters. Your usual seat by the window is empty, your backpack and coat nowhere in sight. His heart pounds as he looks around, waiting to see you run in late, maybe with a story about an adventure you had on the way to school, maybe you also have something to show him and are just  teasing his nerves, making him wait for your arrival at the last minute.

But… you don’t come.

The teacher eventually explains to him that you and your family had to move away suddenly. The words feel heavy, and Poe’s small hands grip the straps of his jacket as his bottom lip wobbles. He doesn’t fully understand why you had to leave or where exactly “away” is, but he knows it’s far enough that you won’t be coming back.

The following days are quiet. He drifts through recess and playtime without his usual spark, his gaze inevitably straying to the tree where you once perched together, where you’d both laughed and schemed like rebels in training.He thinks about the fact that you’re gone, maybe its his fault? Maybe he could’ve stand up for you in front of your dad, maybe that way you would’ve stayed, if you’d both hadn’t gone snooping around, maybe you’d still be with him.

Poe’s little cheeks are stained with tears and he spends more time holding Captain Fluff close, as if the little tooka doll might somehow fill the gap of your absence. At home, he tries to keep up with the “missions” you once led, braving solo ventures to his backyard and recreating your adventures, but the thrill fades faster than he expects.

In time, Poe will come to recognize these memories as something precious, realising how they’ve embedded a spark of adventure within him, a piece of you that remains despite your absence. The small voice you planted in him—an urge to climb higher, to be braver, and to dream bigger—will stay with him, shaping his path forward. He doesn’t know it now, but those days, even the bittersweet ones, will linger within him for years to come, forming a quiet foundation for the hero he’ll one day become.

Years later, Poe stands in the middle of the busy Resistance base, his mind laser-focused on the upcoming mission briefings, the endless tactical updates, and the hum of pilots and soldiers passing by. He’s been on countless missions, and by now, the routine has become second nature—preparing his X-wing, checking the systems, reviewing the intel. His concentration is unwavering as a Resistance officer details the mission ahead, highlighting enemy positions and strategic points of interest. Poe nods along, mentally mapping out the path, fine-tuning his plan. 

But then, across the room, something, no someone,  catches his eye.

Amidst the bustle of soldiers and pilots, talking with another Resistance pilot, is someone he feels he recognizes. His gaze sharpens, as he takes in the details—the shape of their features, the fierce but familiar set of their jaw, the gleam in their eyes that’s both determined and a little mischievous. There’s something about them, something he can’t quite place, but it stirs something in him—like the flicker of an old memory, buried deep. He watches for a moment, distracted from the briefing, trying to piece it all together.

It’s only when the officer calls his name, snapping him back to the present, that he realises he’s been staring. He shakes his head, refocusing on the mission details, but the pull of that familiar presence lingers. His curiosity gnaws at him. After a few more moments, he can’t resist and excuses himself and jogs towards the other side of the hangar.

“Hey,” he says, almost breathless, a soft smile growing as he studies your face more closely. And then, with a look of realisation, he knows it—it’s you. It’s really you. “Tree climber, is that you?”

You blink, momentarily surprised, and then a laugh escapes you. “Wait—tooka doll kid?”

Poe’s face goes crimson, his bravado faltering as he clears his throat. “I, uh—yeah, that’d be me,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “But, hey, I’ve got a name too, you know. Poe Dameron. Just Poe is fine, though.” he adds, his tone half-proud, half-nervous.

You chuckle softly. “Of course, Poe Dameron, I remember,” you tease, because of course you knew who he was. “Can’t believe you’ve gone from the shy, tooka doll kid that used to follow me everywhere, to being the poster boy for the Resistance.” You raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips. “Guess you really did become all important.”

Poe grins, his face flushing slightly, though he tries to hide it behind a chuckle. “Well, guess someone’s gotta lead the way, right?” he says, the cocky edge creeping back into his voice.

The two of you laugh quietly together, and Poe’s heart feels like it’s soaring, even within the chaos of the base. His gaze lingers on you as he shakes his head in awe. “Wow... look at you,reconnaissance now, huh?” He recognizes the badge on your arm and chuckles, eyes crinkling. “Just like your dad, and it tracks. You always did love exploring the uncharted.”

You smile, leaning in a little closer, your gaze wandering over him as you take in his strong features, the way his dark curls fall just over his forehead, and that lopsided, boyish grin that’s still the same as it was when you were kids. And those dimples—those same little dimples—are still there, deepening as he smiles at you.

“And you, a squad leader,” you counter back with a teasing smirk. “Not bad, Dameron.” You don’t tell him, but ever since you got assigned that week to move to the Yavin base, you’d hoped you’d bump into him somehow—just to admire him in his element, the confident leader of the Resistance.

Poe’s eyes drop for a moment, a small blush creeping up his neck, getting nervous as your steady gaze studies him, same way it did when you were kids, never faltering. Neither of you speak, taking in the almost surreal reunion.

Suddenly, he’s not sure what to do with himself. His gaze drifts over you as if seeing you for the first time. After all, it is the first time he sees you in your adult life. You're standing there, strong, poised in your uniform, that looks somehow both formidable and very fitting on you. But there’s something else—something about the way you carry yourself, the way the light catches your eyes, the quiet confidence in your stance. He catches his breath, his heart racing just a little as he takes you in, the same person from all those years ago but somehow... different. Gorgeous, even.

For a moment, he forgets how to speak. He’s pulled from his thoughts only when he realises he's been staring too long, he shakes himself back into reality, glancing up at you with a slight cough, trying to act nonchalant. 

“You… you look good,” he says quickly, his voice a little unsteady. He clears his throat again, adding with a nervous laugh, “I mean—uh, well… you know. For someone in the Resistance uniform, I mean– this is not going very well is it?” His words stutter out as his hand rubs the back of his neck, but it only makes you chuckle. 

“Smooth as always.” You shake your head in amusement at his flustered response.

Poe watches you for a moment longer, his heart still racing from the mix of nostalgia and admiration. As you catch his gaze, a warmth spreads across your cheeks, and you quickly look down, suddenly feeling self-conscious. The way he was looking at you made you realise just how much you had missed him—more than you were prepared to admit. But you shake off the fluttering feeling in your chest and decide to change the subject.

"So, uh... are you leaving soon for a mission?" you ask, your voice a little steadier than you feel. You focus on looking at Poe's forehead instead of his eyes, hoping that the lack of eye contact convinces your brain and distracts it enough for you not to make a fool of yourself, and avoid the heat that just started creeping up your cheeks.

Poe, still a little flushed himself, gives you a sheepish grin. "Yeah, actually, in a couple of hours," he says, eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks. "Lots of pre-flight checks and intel stuff to go through before I head out."

You nod, your mind briefly flashing back to the way he used to prepare for missions as a kid, always following your lead, but the first to volunteer for anything daring. "Sounds like you're always on the go," you tease gently.

Poe chuckles, his gaze softening as he looks down, his foot nervously tapping the ground, shifting back and forth, things never change.

"Well, you know me—always got something to do. But hey..." He pauses for a moment, looking at you with a slight hesitation, then asks, “Hey, after the mission and after I’m off patrol… would you want to grab a drink? Maybe catch up?”

You blink in surprise, a smile tugging at your lips, and for a moment, you can’t quite believe this is happening. Poe Dameron, the fearless pilot and Resistance leader, asking you to catch up. You might have been his childhood friend for a hot moment, but this still feels unreal, you shrug off the doubt and look him in the eye. "Actually..." you start, the idea suddenly sparking in your mind, "how about I suggest something a little more fitting?"

You step a little closer to him, eyes gleaming with a playful challenge. You point off into the distance, toward a towering tree at the far end of the base. "You see that tree?" you ask. "Right there, just on the far end of the base. It's pretty tall... you can see it from a long way off."

Poe follows the direction of your finger, his curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I see it. Pretty big for sure. What about it?"

You smile, leaning in just a bit, as if sharing a secret. "Been meaning to climb it," you say. "And I might need help doing it. So, would that be something that interests you?"

Poe grins, the idea instantly catching fire in his mind. "Climbing a tree?" he laughs, "You know, we're not kids anymore. I don't think this is exactly your idea of a good time as an adult, is it?"

You raise an eyebrow, the challenge in your tone still there as you look at him. "Oh, I don't know, what, you’re gonna chicken out on me, Dameron?"

Poe's grin widens, his chest puffing up as he shakes his head. "Not a chance. I’m not a chicken," he says with mock indignation. "I’ll show you just how not a chicken I am."

"Rendezvous by the tallest tree, then?"

Poe’s grin only grows wider as he gives you a mock salute. "Copy that, Lieutenant." He teases and makes you both laugh again. “I gotta go, but I’ll meet you when I get back.” With a quick glance back, he turns to leave, heading off to prepare for the mission ahead.

As he walks away, his heart feels lighter, his steps more purposeful. The collision of his past and present has left him feeling more confident, as if something has shifted in him. He’s reminded of the person he used to be as a kid—the one who faced challenges with a grin and a sense of adventure, rather than the constant tension and weight of responsibility that so often clouded his thoughts.

But now, with you back in his life, that spark of his younger self is rekindled. He finds himself looking forward to returning to base, eager to pick up where you both left off…

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

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[formulaforza]

oh, simple thing— c.sainz

"the earth laughs in flowers" pairing: carlos sainz x female reader wc: 4.1k notes: guys remember when i used to write? back in january? crazy times. anyways.

You were five years old the first time you proclaimed that you were going to marry Carlos. It came, of course, after the implication that you would also be marrying Prince Charming (as long as he didn’t keep your glass slipper–shoes are a woman’s best friend, your mom had told you once and you never forgot it) and the gym teacher at your primary school, whose crush you’d never admit to anyone but your mom. Can you imagine the teasing? Thinking a grown-up is cute? It’s completely preposterous… or, when you were five, super-duper silly. 

All three of the loves of your life were completely coincidental, coming to your brain while your mom read you a bedtime story completely coincidentally. You’d had gym class that day, of course. Played with the rolling scooters and argued with the older kids about getting a turn on the tube slide. Scooter day was always your favorite, so it was no surprise your teacher was in your good graces that evening. A

After dinner, while flipping lazily through channels on the big square television in the family room, your dad had clicked on the Disney Channel by mistake. Cinderella was halfway through and you threw a fit every time he tried to change the channel. You just thought she looked so pretty, in her big princess dress dancing at the ball. 

Carlos, what had Carlos done to be in your good graces that day…? He wasn’t in your class, so you couldn’t enlist him in the war of the slides or crash into him on the scooters. He definitely wasn’t running around your house after dinner. If he was, your Mom would still be cleaning up after him somewhere in the house. Carlos, Carlos, Carlos… what had he–oh! That’s right! The flower on the way home from school. How could you ever forget the first flower? He’ll give you shit for it later. 

Your mom and Carlos’ mom had been best friends long before you and Carlos burst into the scene. They liked each other more than just about anyone, and you never did understand how Reyes never tired of your Mother’s antics. She was always bossing you around, forcing you to clean up your toys and read your books. Carlos got away with whatever he wanted, his parents would even lie for him on his reading logs. Anyways, stay focused. Because your parents were such good friends, you and Carlos grew up side by side. Parallel play or bust, since neither of you were particularly apt at sharing. Everyday on the walk home from school, your moms would catch up on the gossip from the night before while you and Carlos tried to kill each other with various objects found on the sidewalk. This day, there had been eleven pebbles, two rocks, a stick, and Carlos’ metal water bottle (the one with the HotWheels logo on the side). Now, Carlos was charging at you with… a flower? A bluebell, one he’d picked straight from the ground, root and all hanging from his fist. When he held it out to you, you scowled. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. In fact, it was about as perfect as a bluebell from the sidewalk can get, but, you’re a little shit. 

“It’s dead,” you said, took it from him and tossed it aside. “It’s not nice to pick flowers, Carlito. It kills them.” He burst into tears and your mother scolded you the rest of the way home, even though it was her who always told you to leave the wildflowers wild. After some time and consideration (a plate of dinosaur nuggets, half of Cinderella, and a bedtime story) you’d decided maybe Carlos was right to cry about the dead flower. 

Carlos, it seemed, had gotten over the dead flower incident pretty quickly because, the very next day, he was already making a joke of it. He’d held up the walk home for fifteen minutes while he searched through a field in the park. Both of your mothers and Blanca had already shown him what had to be a hundred or so healthy, perky flowers. Carlos shook his head at each one of them, typical. You sat on the curb of the garden and played with the ants that had built a sandy hill beside your foot. You resisted the urge to stomp it, only because you knew you’d be lectured about leaving the bugs alone in the same way you were about leaving the flowers alone. After a lifetime–or enough time to have an after school snack–Carlos finally settled on the ugliest, most wilted flower you’d ever laid your eyes on. He presented it to you with a laugh and, because you’re just as stubborn as he is, you accepted the gift graciously and let it sit vaseless on your dresser for three days before someone threw it away. 

Truthfully, though, the real reason you probably proclaimed your intent to marry him that night wasn’t some flower. It was that Blanca had defended you from his water bottle strike with a pebble to the back of his head, and you thought that would be a good kind of person to have as a sister. 

Carlos was seventeen when he figured he’d probably end up with you eventually for the first time. There wasn’t anything romantic about it. It was more of an ah, fuck. It’s gonna be her, isn’t it? 

Your families were in Mallorca, touring some vineyard–well, your parents were touring the vineyard. You, Carlos, and all of the siblings had snuck off from the group one by one and met up in the grove just outside the property. Carlos was bumming a cigarette from Blana when Ana finally turned up, stomping her way through the grass and wildflowers annoyedly. Carlos takes a puff of the cigarette and passes it over to you. 

“You’re going to start a wildfire, you know?” Ana says, crosses her arms over her chest and pops out a hip all bratty. 

“Ana,” Carlos groans, “shut the fuck up.” You exhale a puff of smoke through a laugh. 

“If you’re going to be mean, I’m going back to Mom and Dad.”

“Okay,” he says, “have fun.”

“I will,” she proclaims, visibly annoyed that she isn’t drawing a reaction from her big brother. She loves to piss him off, everyone does, because it’s just so easy. “I’ll have sooo much fun telling them about how you’re all in the woods smoking. I’m sure Dad will love that, don’t you think, Carlos?” Blanca rolls her eyes. Sometimes it’s fun to mess with Ana, and sometimes keeping her humble becomes more of a chore than anything else. 

Ana stomps away, her whole sneaky journey wasted, the group’s entire smoke session ruined by the pesky baby sister who can’t decide if she wants more to be included or to be a tattletale. “Don’t kill any more flowers on the way back!” Carlos calls after her, passes the cigarette to you again for one last puff before the lot of you have to make your way back to the winery, to the bathroom you’d all claimed to need to use over the past hour. Ana turns on her heels to make sure Carlos can see her eye roll. He just smiles, and you think if Carlos was your brother you probably would have killed him with your bare hands a long time ago. 

You squat down to put the cigarette out in the dirt and Carlos digs a hole with his heel for you to drop it into, kicks the dirt back over it and stomps on it a couple times. “Fuckin’ snitch,” he mutters under his breath. 

He snatches up one of the stomped on flowers, pulls it from the ground–root and all–and presents it to you. “You really are such an ass,” you say, take the flower and link your arm through his for the remainder of the walk back. “I love you,” you add, “but you’re an ass.”

You were twenty the first time your friendship with Carlos became a threat to one of your relationships. It wouldn’t be the last time. You’d been together for seven months, you and Mateo, Mateo and you. Met at a club in Barcelona and the rest was history. It was a simple conflict of interest, a scheduling woe. You were forced to make a decision. Your boyfriend’s grandma’s birthday party… or Carlos’ debut in Australia. To you, it seemed like the easiest decision in the world. His grandmother isn’t even that old–she’s got plenty of birthdays ahead of her, ones that you’d be happy to celebrate. But Carlos’ debut? Really? That’s once in a lifetime. It’s the shit you just don’t miss, even if you’re in the hospital or literally on your deathbed (which Mateo’s grandma is NOT, by the way. She lived seven more years according to recent Facebook posts). 

“You’re going to Australia?” He’d scoffed when you told him, mentioned it so nonchalantly over dinner. When I’m in Australia, don’t forget to water the plants, or something along those trivial lines. He was just as offended as you were utterly confused. There’s no way he thought– “What about my abuela’s birthday?”

You’d laughed. The wrong thing to do, you know, but it was an action done without thought, without intention. “What about it?”

“You’re supposed to come with me.”

“I never said that,” you shake your head and he pulls a face. You set your silverware down and prepare for the coming argument. Normally, you’d just back down, but this is Carlos we’re talking about. Carlos, and his dream. Carlos, and his reality. “I didn’t,” you reaffirm. 

He leans forward onto the table, elbows shaking the entire thing, rattling the wine glasses and ceramic against the wood. “I assumed you–”

“–I don’t know why you would assume I‘d be doing anything except supporting Carlos,” you say, more defensive than you intend to be. It’s just, you can already see where this is going, even if it’s never gone there before. You’ve watched the girls Carlos brings home look at him the same way Mateo is looking at you right now, or more importantly, how he doesn’t look at you. 

“You know, I don’t either.” He nods, but it’s more of a full body movement, like he’s rocking forward, lips pursed and jaw tight. His eyebrows raise like he’s going to shrug, like he’s surprised with himself. You doubt you read the emotion right. “It’s always about Carlos, isn’t it?”

You lean back in your seat, cross your arms over your chest, close your eyes just long enough to hide the eye roll, and then you’re piling the silverware and the napkin onto the plate and moving the party to the kitchen sink. “I’m not doing this right now,” you say when you grab the wine glass carelessly. 

“Oh, so you know what this is about, then?” He calls after you, gathers his things sloppily and follows you into the kitchen. 

“You just said it’s about Carlos,” you say, slamming the sink on and clattering the plates into the bowl. Carlos had told you about these fights, about the ones he’s had with his girlfriends. You’d laughed about them, always thought it was so funny–the idea of someone left fuming by your friendship. The crazy assumptions, they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried. You and Carlos are nothing but platonic, you’ve always been platonic, you’ll always be platonic. When you know someone as long as you’ve known Carlos, they just become a part of you, build this little home in your soul that blends in so perfectly you could never cut it out with clean margins. It’s not just Carlos, either. It’s Blanca and Ana, too. Hell, it’s even Carlos Sr. and Reyes, but nobody ever seems to understand that. 

“It’s my Abuela,” he says, like you’re supposed to be moved or something, and he sets his dishes in the sink on top of yours. “It’s her birthday, and you’re supposed to come with me. I told my family you were coming.”

“I don’t understand why you would do that,” you start scrubbing the first plate with far more aggression than required. You’re not a good fighter, you get mean, and you get mean quick. “I was never not going to Australia.”

He laughs, leans against the counter with his arms crossed, staring at the ground, at the crumbs waiting to be swept up. “Because you’re never going to choose me over Carlos, right?”

“Mateo.”

“Answer the question.”

You freeze, squeeze the soapy sponge in a fist until there’s nothing left to ring out of it. “I’m certainly not going to choose your Abuela over my friend. Over my brother.”

“He’s not your brother.”

You sigh, go back to cleaning. “He’s like my brother.”

“Yeah, if you wanted to fuck your brother,” he says, and meets your eyes with wide, proud eyes like he’d done something, caught you in some illicit love affair. You resist the urge to grab the wand from the sink and spray him with a jet of water. 

Instead, coldly, you’d replied, “get out,” and pointed to the door. 

His hands shot up in some great defense. Or maybe it was offense, you really never could read him that well. “I see how you look at him.”

In. Out. In, and then out. Deep breaths. “I said leave, Mateo.”

“Because you know I’m right.” In, then out. “You know how fucked up it is that there’s three people in our relationship,” in, out. “Four, if you count Carlos’ girlfriend! What do you think she thinks about all this? You looking at her boyfriend like your favorite candy?” In, then. In, then–in, and then you slap him with a wet hand, the contact reverberating into a splash, coating the walls and the ceiling and the entire fucking room in anger. Anger, and dirty dish water. 

The anger is deafening, the room so quiet that the sink makes the kitchen sound like it’s directly behind a waterfall. 

He storms off into the living room. You return to the dishes, hear the jingle of his keys, the door opening. “Fuck you!” You call after him, but what you really mean is Fuck Carlos. 

When you get the breakup text a few days later, you’re not surprised. You put on your best face and pretend you never read it because while your boyfriend did just break up with you in a seven word text, you’re sitting out the back of the Toro Rosso motorhome watching Carlos pace.

You’ll tell him later, you think, after the race. And then, you don’t dare ruin the celebration, ride the high out until it can’t be ridden any longer. By the time you do get around to telling him, you’re all but moved on, mentioning it nonchalantly amongst the chaos of his first season. It falls away to the backburner, into irrelevancy, and Carlos never does ask what happened to sour the relationship. He does, however, have a wilted arrangement of flowers delivered to your front door with a handwritten note–ugly and dead, just like your relationship. You’d laughed for maybe twenty straight minutes. 

Carlos was twenty-four when he realized he was in love with you, that maybe he always had been. He’d just broken up with a girlfriend, one whose name he hardly remembers now. Alessandra… Alena… Adrianna–oh, screw it. It was definitely an “A,” and if it wasn’t, he’s sure it was a vowel. Not the point. He was twenty-four and had just dumped whatever her name was because it just didn’t feel right. (What does right feel like at twenty-four? And how do you know it when you see it? The world may never know). 

It was three races into the 2019 season, and he’d been having a particularly unlucky start with his new team. He’d spent the offseason relatively alone in Woking, finding his footing in a new place, a new team, a new car. Everything is gray, you’d told him the night he announced his impending move, scrolling through your phone at Google search results for the town. “It’s not gray,” he said, and without needing to say anything or flash him a look, he backtracked. “Okay, it’s a little gray.”

Three races in–an engine fire and two first lap collisions–in, and everything is feeling pretty gray, not just his rainy apartment (flat, he’s been taught to call it) in Woking. The cards felt stacked against him, and reluctantly, he’d called in reinforcements to Baku, a couple of good luck charms in the form of the people he loved. You, Ana, and Blanca flew in together and made Carlos come pick you up from the airport himself. 

You climbed into the backseat and were anything but gray. You were glowing, completely and utterly sunkissed, and your hair was messy from travel but it reminded him of what you’re like after a good nap. Groggy and sleepy and desperate to stretch out like a cat. He hates that he knows how you like to stretch after a nap, the exact pattern of movements you do. Do you know how much time you have to spend with someone to memorize their post-nap stretch routine? Too much time, that’s how much. 

You got into his car, all bright and sunny, and sure, his sisters were there and he loves them so much. But, you’re here, and you’re bright and sunny and everything feels just a little less gray. He pulls out from the airport and while he doesn’t realize that he loves you just yet, he knows something in him has been chemically altered by your smile, irrevocably so.

It’s Sunday when he realizes, somewhere between the checkered flag and the team debrief when you and the girls appear, practically crash into him like you’d been dropped down into the garage right from the sky. He hugs you, and you smell like sunshine. He wants to bash his head into the wall of his driver's room, to lay in front of Lando’s car and ask him to run him over because he’s not supposed to take note of the way you smell (unless it’s to call you out for smelling like shit). 

You kiss his cheek and shove his shoulder because you’re so happy for him, because you’re always so happy for him. He doesn’t think it’s fair for someone like him to always have someone this happy for him. He loves that about you. He loves everything about you. He loves you. Fuck, he’s in love with you. 

Lando nearly pees his pants over a tweet the next day. Carlos has reached a new level of Carlos-ing, it read, with a picture of him visibility distracted while being fed to the media pen. He can’t tell his teammate that the reason he’s so distracted is because he’s internally debating the pros and cons of ruining your friendship forever. 

You’re twenty-four when you and Carlos start dating. The two of you drag it out for as long as humanly possible, stretch the patience of everyone around you so thin they won’t be surprised (or concerned) at the idea of you and him getting together. It’s scary. Really, really scary to admit your feelings for each other, to tell the rest of the world about it, but Carlos keeps bringing you these mis-shapen flowers, ones where the dye is soaked up poorly or they’re a couple days too wilted. It’s our thing, he would always say, and kiss you while you cut the stems to fit in your favorite vase. 

He was right, it was something that was just yours. There was nobody else actively searching out dying flowers in the shops or carefully picking the dirtiest wildflower from its root on an evening walk through the city. That was just the two of you, and nobody else understood it. 

“It’s gross,” a friend told you, twiddling one of the half-dead flower stems between her fingers while you shared gossip over glasses of wine. “You got these today and they’re ready to be thrown in the bin.”

“You don’t get it,” you’d swatted her words away. The dead flowers weren’t understood, and they didn’t need to be. They were special to you and Carlos, and when it came down to it, nothing else mattered to you. 

“Seriously, though,” she’d continued, “It’s… I don’t know. Dead flowers, it’s just weird.”

Carlos is twenty-six when you break up. It’s mutual, it is. Even when it doesn’t feel like it’s mutual, when either one of you desperately searches to blame the other for the pitfalls, it’s still mutual, still two people who love each other. Who just aren’t in love with each other anymore. 

There’s a lot of reasons if you want to get into it, but his new drive is the catalyst for pretty much all of them. Carlos is with Ferrari now, which is the dream, but it's also the nightmare. McLaren is iconic and historic but Ferrari… well. Everyone knows the Vettel quote, everyone knows the kid’s car is red. Ferrari’s Ferrari and you’re just… you. Time runs out, patience runs thin, and that’s the end of it. 

You’re twenty-seven when you see him for the first time post-breakup. It’s a setup by your parents. Mallorca and the vineyard, again. You don’t think anything of it, so much has happened in the last decade and Mallorca is half of Spain’s favorite vacation destination. 

He’s sitting with his family at the bar, the whole clan of them sipping from a wine-tasting tray. His eyes shoot up to meet yours with the loud creak of the old, heavy doors. He does a double take, and your stomach turns into a ball of knotted necklaces. 

During the same tour you’d been on all those years ago, you sneak off with the same excuse you’d used. Blanca and Ana don’t follow after you to debate the environmental damages of bumming a cigarette in the grove or to threaten to snitch on you to your parents. They stay behind and listen and you stomp through the wildflowers to get some air. You’re already outside, Carlos would say if he were there. You’re my dirty air, you’d tell him, and he would roll his eyes, shove his hands deep in his pockets and rock on his heels. 

He knows you’re not in the bathroom, there isn’t a single nerve in your mind that thinks he doesn’t know exactly where you are. He doesn’t sneak off behind you. You gather your thoughts in the grove by yourself, leant against a tree older than you’ll dream of being. You pick a wildflower, one that looks picture perfect, snap it carefully from the root and stick the stem behind your ear. 

When you return to your party, they don’t notice you’ve been gone for far too long to use the bathroom or that you’ve got a flower in your hair. Well, all of them except Carlos, who slows his walking pace to drop to the back of the group next to you. “Nice flower,” he comments quietly. 

You nod, watch your feet as they move in synchronized steps with him on the grassy path. “Thanks.”

“It’s dead,” he adds, and you smile dimly. “It’s not nice to kill the flowers.”

Carlos is twenty-eight when he’s perusing the birthday card section at the local gift shop. He’s trying to find one that perfectly sums up his birthday wishes for you. It has to be sunny and happy and so, so sorry for everything (even when it’s nobody’s fault). It has to say, I’ll always love you without saying I am still terribly in love with you. It has to be subtle and obvious and endearing and serious and funny. It has to be everything his words can’t be. 

He eventually settles on one, tucks it into the yellow envelope and licks it shut. He handwrites your name on it messily, like you could get confused about who it’s for and need a label, or like he has a stack of yellow envelopes for dozens of other people sitting sealed on his kitchen counter. He goes to the florist next, picks out a stock arrangement from the fridge and a package of flower seeds. The final stop on his city tour is your apartment. Three knocks on your door, and then you’re undoing the deadbolt. 

“Hi,” you say, confused by his presence on your welcome mat. 

“Happy Birthday,” he smiles. “This is the last time I get you dead flowers.”

You and Carlos are thirty at your wedding. He cries when you walk down the aisle and there isn’t a single real flower in your bouquet. It’s all fake, and one of your friends asks if you’re worried it might look tacky or cheap. Anyone who thinks that shouldn’t be at our wedding, you’d told them. 

[what-gs-watching]

“You’re getting the fuck of a lifetime, tonight.”

OKAY friends. As we all well know by now, I am, and have been, utterly devoted to David Tennant in all forms for a long time. The man is incredible. He’s everything. He can do no wrong. 

So I was obviously out of my mind excited about Rivals. Have I read the book? No. Should I probably have joined the GOAD subreddit book club to understand what I was getting into? Yeah, absolutely. But I did not.

Y’all. Does anyone else feel personally victimized by this show? Show of hands? No? Am I just a sensitive bitch right now? Fair.

I should have expected that David Tennant’s character was a true creep because I know he likes to mix it up, that’s on me, but I did not expect to feel so many WAYS about things. Wasn’t this supposed to be like a fun, sexy romp set in the 80’s wherein I could just shake my head at British people being british?

I really came into this show knowing basically nothing. I definitely need to stop doing that.

AKA, wherein a bunch of pompous Brits living in the Cotswolds fuck each other’s wives or husbands or neighbors or WHOEVER and fight over who should control the local television rights - David Tennant’s insanely charismatic and crazy manipulative Lord Tony Baddingham, or intrepid Irish interviewer Declan O’Hara and unlikely ally MP and former olympian Rupert Campbell-Black.

LISTEN, TV, don’t make comments on the difficulties of marriage and love and other things, directly into my face. I don’t like it. It makes me squirmy, and I hate you. 

In the beginning, I really did not like Rupert and was yelling about him being a fucking creep, and I was letting Lord B off the hook for some of his weirder behavior but wooooof, what a journey those eight episodes take you on. I do appreciate character growth, or also, I guess, character…descent? Because Tony absolutely fucking unravels. 

Something about absolute power corrupting absolutely?

Also, there are a ton of characters in this thing. And I’m obviously gonna fixate on Lord B but I have to be honest, Lizzie, neighbor to the O’Hara’s and wife of one of the tv personalities at Tony’s station, is my favorite part of this entire tapestry. She writes saucy novels and she’s underappreciated in her little life and she raises her kids and has an adorable best friend relationship with Rupert (which definitely helped me soften to him) and I connected with her way more than I should have.

She tries so hard to get her husband to pay her attention. She really wants to feel like he cares about her, that he thinks she’s worthy, and he never gives it to her. BUT then she meets Freddie, awkward tech magnate, and y’all. Their adorable, bumbling interactions are everything. He runs after a train when she leaves the chapters of her new book the train! He appreciates the hell out of her, and she does the same for him, because his wife is equally neglectful. 

I don’t think I’ve ever rooted so hard for someone to have an affair in my life. She deserved to get absolutely everything she wanted. We all do. And I don’t appreciate being EXPOSED like that. 

Anyway. We obviously can’t get into every single random storyline here, so we’re gonna hit the highlights, lightning round style.

I do really like Declan, and his relationship with his wife was interesting - she’s an actress so she’s always going to be dramatic but he seemed like he knew how to handle her, and I appreciated the passion they had together. I don’t love how they ended up, you can see he really does love her, but she doesn’t want to compete against his work for his affections. I get it. But like girl, you gotta give a little? But also, that shit is hard. Their relationship seemed like one of the realest, for sure. 

What I could not bring myself to be okay with, was Taggie’s (Declan’s 20 year old daughter) feelings for Rupert. I’m sorry y’all, no. Like, sure, Rupert becomes more of a person throughout the show and I appreciate that and I get that he maybe hasn’t ever really loved anyone but I’m not gonna sign up for the love story between the two of them. And usually I’ll sign up for anything. But I just can’t, I’m not sure why. It just still feels predatory to me. 

Will I eat those words if they make a season two? I suppose we shall see.

And now, Lord B. Tony-fucking-Baddingham. Foolishly at the start I was like, maybe he does care about his very typical, dowdy english wife. She looks very salt of the earth and sure it’s surprising she’s not young and hot but man, they seem to work well together, they get each other. What’s gonna go down here? 

And then just kidding, he’s fucking Cameron Cook, the American female producer he hired to create amazing television for Corinium. Because of course he is. He does seem to think she really is brilliant, but he wants to control that and own it and he somehow convinces himself he loves her? But the man is a sociopath. And I spent like, the final three episodes yelling “GIRL, he’s gonna try to murder you, like for real tho…”

But then he does shit like dancing with her at a restaurant while crooning along to a stripped down version of “Love is a Battlefield” and I’m like, maybe he contains multitudes? But he doesn’t! There’s no fucking hesitation in any of the terrible shit he gets up to. That sweetness is purposeful. It’s gross and it’s mesmerizing. 

Bless Georgia Tennant for convincing him to take this role. I hate it, and it’s wonderful.

Also, big fucking props to the way his proper wife lays down the law in the last episode. (Side rant: early on I was like ‘does he ever fuck his wife?’ and he does, and it’s so awkward, bless her. I get it babe, I really do). But she met her fucking limit and she didn’t shy away from it. We need more women standing up for themselves. Cameron does to a degree, but Monica is the true MVP in this mess. 

I think the worst part about this show is that it ends abruptly, honestly. You don’t get a lot of closure, everything is still up in the air and there’s a serious fucking cliffhanger and now I’m just mad and weirdly turned on and again, feeling a lot of ways about things. It’s very “thanks, I hate it.” 

Let’s be real, I showed up to this thing so I could ogle David Tennant in a new way. And I definitely got that - those fucking cigars! And the suits! That gorgeous, predatory smile! But I also got a lot more. I’m infuriated and confused and I need season two immediately. 

After all, Lord B did promise that he’d continue to make television we want. And even if he’s a horrible, terrible bastard, I’m gonna believe that.

Bonkbuster indeed.

[muldj0rd]

3 clicks and I’m home || Brocedes/Sargeton

Summary: Nico- Good luck in the race, we’re rooting for you, Schatzi

Warnings: Blowjob, anal, anal fingering, unprotected sex, creamepie, taking of virginity, voyeurism, masturbation

Masterlist || AO3

part one

A sleepless night for Lewis was disturbed by a knock on his door

He turned to look at the bedside table, the clock showing 2.44am

He was fucking confused that somebody knocked at his door at this time of the night, but he got up anyways

He dragged his feet across the floor, not bothering to look through the peep hole, which he probably should’ve

He tried closing the door immediately when he saw that it was Nico standing in front of him, but the other man had stopped the door before he could

“What’d you want?” Lewis groaned, turning to look at Nico again

“Let me apologise” Nico almost begged, his hair messy as well as his clothes- a pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt

“At 2.44 am?” Lewis scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest

“I couldn’t sleep, and the walls are so thin that I could hear you tossing” Nico explained, sighing softly “I brought wine” He hummed softly, showing Lewis to bottle in his hand

Lewis let him in, but not without hesitation

Nico still knew where all the stuff was in the kitchen. Where to go when he went for the wine glasses

“What makes you think I didn’t change it around?” Lewis asked, leaning against the kitchen counter

“Please. You hate change” Nico scoffed softly, opening the bottle, pouring them both a glass

They both moved to the couch, silence as Nico tapped against the glass with his nail, driving Lewis crazy

“You wanted to apologise, so do it” Lewis said, the tapping stopping, making him sigh softly

Nico took a sip of the wine before he spoke “I really am sorry, Lewis” Nico turned his body towards Lewis’ which was still turned forward “I thought-… I didn’t know you loved him, and just thought it was because he looks like me, and it really sounds selfish. I am so sorry”

Lewis chuckled softly, not the kind of funny chuckle, but the sarcastic amused kind

“You think a simple apology is going to make it right? You think a simple apology is gonna give me Logan back?” He spat, looking at Nico with knitted eye brows and eyes full of hurt

“I’ll do anything, Lewis. Anything you need” Nico scooted closer to Lewis on the couch, the German’s eyes begging

“You look like you want to be on your knees for me” Lewis chuckled, seeing the same look in Nico’s eyes now, and the look he saw before he was about to receive a blow job

“Is that what you want? I’ll gladly do that” Nico put his glass on the coffee table, spreading Lewis’ legs so he could sit between them, looking up at him

“Nico, no- it was just-“ Lewis stopped himself with a quick breath when Nico started palming him through his sweats

“Nico- you’re married” Lewis took ahold of Nico’s wrist with the hand not wrapped around the wine glass

“So what? That’s not your problem” Nico hummed, taking the wine glass from Lewis in his other hand, placing it on the coffee table

Nico managed to wriggle his wrist out of Lewis’ grasp, now slowly trying to pull Lewis’ sweats and boxers down

“Lewis, lift your hips” Nico said softly, looking up at the Brit

Lewis sighed “Nico- you’re married”

“Oh, verdammt noch mal” For fuck sake. Nico cursed, forcing Lewis’ hips up so he could tug them down “Would you just shut the fuck up?” He spat

Nico leaned forward, but Lewis pulled him back by his hair “I need you to really think about this and the consequences” Lewis sighed “You could loose Vivian and the kids” He breathed out

Nico looked like he hesitated for a moment, but he nodded softly after a second “I know what’s at risk” He sighed softly

Lewis nodded slightly in return, his hand easing in Nico’s hair, letting him leaned forward again, softly placing kitten lick at the head of Lewis’ cock, getting him fully hard

Lewis didn’t make much sounds, he was good at that. Keeping quiet when he needed to, knowing that Nico’s wife was sleeping a could hear them if he was too loud

Lewis’ breath hitched slightly as Nico moved his hot mouth down on him, slowly moving on him

Lewis took his hands into Nico’s hair, not to move him, but to keep his hair out of his face as he had grown it out “You’re so fucking pretty”

Nico started going a little faster, his hands going under Lewis’ shirt, pushing it up his waist

“Fuck” Lewis breathed out, his hand tightening in Nico’s hair, slowly and softly moving his hips up into Nico’s mouth

“Fuck, you’re so pretty” Nico moaned around Lewis’ cock at the praise, sending vibrations all through Lewis, making him moan softly

“Fuck- Nico” Lewis breathed out, his cock twitching inside Nico’s mouth, pre-cum dripping onto his tongue

Nico’s hands tightened around Lewis’ waist, like it always did when he allowed Lewis to come without having to say it

Lewis remembered all too well what the tightening grip meant, so without any warning, did he hold Nico down onto his cock, coming down his throat, grunting quietly

“You’re a horrible person” Lewis panted, pulling Nico off of his cock after he had swallowed

“Yes” Nico nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, still looking up at Lewis

“Was Logan good?” They had been sitting and talking, neither tired, so they had shared the bottle, and opened a new one, not seeing the time being around 4 am

“Good in what way?” Lewis sighed, sipping on his glass, definitely starting to feel it

Nico shot Lewis a look “You know what I mean” He chuckled softly

“Well…” Lewis shrugged “We never went that far” He mumbled

“Please, Lewis. The walls are thin. I can hear it” Nico chuckled, his feet scooted under Lewis’ thigh, warming him up

“You don’t have to have sex to be intimate” Lewis said, pouting slightly as he looked at Nico

“You wanted to?” Lewis nodded softly “Why did you never?” He asked softly

Lewis sighed softly “He was never ready, and I respected- I do respect that” He explained

Nico nodded softly, sipping on his wine. Not knowing what to say, he changed the subject “When did you realise you were in love with me?”

Lewis chuckled softly at the sudden change. He shrugged slightly “I guess… One of the times I was visiting you in Germany when we were teenagers” He explained

“You should probably head back” Lewis said, just in time before Nico spoke up again

“Yeah” Nico sighed, standing up from the couch, missing the heat of Lewis’ body on his

Brazil Lewis had to do a double check when he saw Logan walk through the paddock with Nico by his side- more like Nico walked with Logan

Nico flashed Lewis a slight smile and a small smile, where to Logan quickly looked away when he made eye contact with the older man

George had to shove softly at Lewis’ shoulder to get him back to reality

Mexico was a nightmare for Lewis, so when he reached the podium in Brazil, he was overly happy

Which was weird, because he barely remembered the race- his brain working on auto pilot

The only thoughts running through his mind being Logan and Nico, sometimes even both

The thoughts weren’t the kind of sweet kinds, it was the kind where you should drink holy water for 30 days to make up for it

He was embarrassed after the fact, having to retrieve to his drivers room, taking care of his… So called “problem”

He was also embarrassed by the fact that the thoughts getting him off was his ex, and his other ex that was now married

Qatar Las Vegas was shit

Lewis had crashed out, flying into the wall, causing a red flag for about half an hour

So when he had won in Qatar, he started to wonder if Logan was his lucky charm, having seen him in the paddock with Nico again that week

Nico Royal Qatar Hotel, room 246

The only message Lewis got from Nico. He knew what it meant, so he didn’t need more explanation

Lewis showed up after debrief and a nice shower, knocking softly on the door

Lewis froze when he saw Logan sitting on the bed behind Nico’s body

“You’ll be fine” Nico said, pulling Lewis into the room before he exited, giving Lewis no explanation

Logan sighed, patting the space beside him on the couch

Lewis hesitated as he walked closer, sitting down beside the American, leaning back against the headboard

“Explain” Logan said as the only word, to which Lewis nodded

“It was like that in the start. That I only dated you because you look like Nico” Lewis sighed “But that changed, Logan. I started loving you- I love you. God- I love you so fucking much it hurts” He chuckled softly, sniffling slightly

Logan immediately swung his arms around Lewis, hurrying his head into the crook of his neck, squeezing him tightly

“I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you- have let you explain. I love you too” Logan sighed

Lewis hugged Logan back immediately, listening as Logan started talking again “You still love Nico” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, to which Lewis agreed with a small nod “We’ve been talking, me and Nico”

Logan leaned slightly away from Lewis, but still held onto him “He have to get divorced first, of course, but, we were thinking after, that… maybe- maybe we could try and make it work with all three of us” He spoke low, looking into Lewis’ eyes

Lewis nodded softly “I don’t wanna do something that you don’t” He said, pushing some of Logan’s hair away from his face

Logan nodded “I want to” He hummed, leaning in to kiss Lewis softly “I’m text Nico that he can come back”

Logan took his phone, texting Nico, while Lewis kissed Logan on the side of his face, continuing down to his neck softly

“Lewis” Logan chuckled, his stubble tickling him as he put his phone back down again

“Sorry, love. I’ve just missed you” Lewis mumbled against Logan’s skin

Logan got into Lewis’ lap, straddling him and kissing him tender, just as Nico walked back into the room

“Love, we don’t have to” Lewis mumbled into Logan’s kiss, holding the American’s hips still as he started ground down against him

“Fuck me, Lewis. Please” Logan said breathlessly, the sound of Nico sitting down in a leather chair only background noise

“Okay” Lewis nodded softly “Lay down” He instructed, pushing softly as his waist, but Logan stopped him

“No. I want it like this, please” As Logan looked down at Lewis, his eyes begging, his whole world stopped, forgetting Nico was in the room as well

“It’ll be more difficult this way” Lewis said softly, sinking a lump in his throat

“I don’t care. Please, I want it this way” Logan almost whined, rolling his hips against Lewis’, making the Brit moan quietly

“Okay” He nodded softly again, lifting Logan’s hips up so he could get his jeans off while Logan pulled his shirt over his head, the sound of Nico searching in his suitcase evident

Lewis managed tho get Logan out of his jeans and briefs without moving around a lot, Nico throwing a bottle of lube beside them on the bed before he sat down again

Logan left wet open-mouthed kisses around Lewis’ throat and neck as Lewis warmed some lube up on his fingers

He pulled Logan close, snaking his hand around his body, soothing him with praises as he slowly pushed a finger inside him

The small moans and whimpers in Lewis’ ear were already music to him, imagine what he would sound like while getting pounded

Lewis slowly and softly pushed a second finger into Logan when he was loose enough, drawing a whine out of him, and making his grip around Lewis shoulders tighter

The position that they were in, made it harder for Lewis to find Logan’s prostate, but Logan liked the feeling of Lewis searching

Lewis made the mistake of looking up at Nico, seeing him already looking at him. Not at Logan, not the spot where Lewis’ fingers disappeared inside Logan, but at him

They held eye contact for a while, Nico starting to palm himself through his sweats, covering his mouth discreetly, muffling his own sounds

Lewis finally hit Logan’s prostate, making him moan loudly into Lewis’ ear

Lewis’ lips were all over Logan’s exposed shoulder and neck, but his eyes were still focused on Nico, who had now taken his hand off of himself, presumably because he was already close to coming

“You’re so fucking pretty” It wasn’t meant for Logan, but not knowing better, or knowing where Lewis’ eyes were planted, he muttered a ‘thank you’ a long with a deep blush rushing down his body

Nico knew it was for him. He knew. Lewis had used the same fucking tone he did back in ‘16, and the same fucking tone when he gave him that blowjob at 2.44 am

Lewis slowly pushed a third finger into Logan, waiting for him to adjusted before softly curling his finger to hit his prostate

“Lew- please. I-I’m ready. Please” Logan panted between his moans

Lewis planted a soft kiss in the corner of Logan’s mouth as he pulled his fingers out, wiping them cleans on the outside of Logan’s thigh

“Lift” Lewis instructed, patting Logan’s thigh softly

Logan lifted his hips, allowing Lewis to pull down his sweats and briefs down enough so he could get his cock out

Logan sat down again on Lewis’ thighs, swatting Lewis’ hand away from his cock so he could stroke him himself

Lewis moaned softly as Logan had a soft grip around him, a tight grip around the American’s hips

Logan lifted his hips, lining himself up with Lewis’ cock, slowly sinking down on him, moaning softly into Lewis’ ear

Whine, whimpers and small moans escaped Logan’s lips, going straight to Lewis’ ears

Lewis looked up at Nico once he started thrusting up into Logan’s prostate, seeing the blond now having gotten his cock out, slowly stroking himself

Logan was close, Lewis could feel it from the way he was clenching around him, his thighs shaking slightly, and pre cum dripping from his cock

“You close, love?” Lewis asked Logan teasingly, knowing that he was

Logan nodded, moaning loudly into the crook of Lewis’ neck, his hips moving fast

Lewis wrapped his hand around Logan’s cock, stroking him to the same speed as his thrusts, having him coming in seconds, painting Lewis’ shirt white

Lewis slowed his hips down, avoiding Logan’s prostate as he rode out his orgasm, eyes going back to Nico who by the look of it was also close

Lewis nodded softly at Nico, silently telling him he could come, and Nico who knew what it meant, came without a second thought, spilling his cum onto his hand and the carpet beneath his feet

Lewis came as well after a few thrusts, holding Logan’s hips down onto his own, coming deep inside him

“You okay, Love?” Lewis asked Logan, softly stroking his hair, feeling the weight of the blond’s body against his own

After they had gotten cleaned themselves up, they were all three in the bed

Lewis lying on his back, hands beneath his head, starting up into the ceiling. Logan was lying curled up into Lewis side, arm slung around his waist, asleep. Nico sat up against the headboard, reading a book of some kind

“What are you thinking about?” Nico hummed, not tarring his eyes from the page

“I’m not thinking” Lewis answered way too quickly, still starring up into the ceiling

“You’re paying no attention to the pretty boy lying on your chest. You’re thinking” Nico said with a sigh, now looking over at the Brit

“I’m gonna fuck this up” Lewis sighed “I’m no good at relationships” He stuttered softly

“A for effort, Lew” Nico sighed, Lewis now looking up at him

“I don’t want the effort, I want it to work” He sighed, covering his face with his hands, groaning quietly to not wake Logan

Nico sighed for what felt like the 10.000th time, closing his book and placed it on the nightstand before he took of Lewis hands into his own, kissing the back of it

“We’ll make it work. We don’t blame you, Lew” Nico smiled softly

Nico Good luck in the race, we’re rooting for you, Schatzi

[starleavess]

it's honestly kind of crazy how much of dave's behavior you can compare to a dog's. he's lonely -- he lost henry. he's been abandoned -- by henry dying; he's lost the only person who he considered family before jack. he's hurt -- because of henry and his past, even if he doesn't fully realize that. one of dave's first reactions to rejection and abandonment is sadness. when you decline his offer of murdering children in dsaf 1 is an exception, as it's simply an invitation for jack to 'hang out' with him. one of their first interactions in the trilogy is him suggesting they kill kids to get out of this place that jack got hired at like 5 minutes ago. and... that's quite literally all he knows. he was never taught normal things, he was never taught how to play with other kids or how to talk to people or how to do normal, fun activities. he was taught how to take lives instead. he was taught what to do so that things would go his way, even if he doesn't often use that ability to benefit himself. his number one priority seems to be jack, now that henry isn't around anymore. he focuses solely on him, and if he's going to make fazbenders go down, dave'll help him along the way. he considers jack his family, his partner, his second half. he is forced to love the people he considers close unconditionally on top of everything he does, because that's what he was taught to do. it became his instinct, much like a dog's. his instinct, which he couldn't ignore in the end, nor disobey. henry was the one who forcefully drilled that mindset into his brain through all of the abuse he made him go through and how he kept on treating him when he was younger. dave didn't know he was being manipulated nor used and therefore he thought that this was love. if he wants to be loved, he has to obey. if there isn't anything you can compare something to, how can you know it's right? how could he know what love was if he never truly experienced it?

in the bad ending of dsaf 3, he doesn't push jack away. he doesn't struggle against him as he breaks more than his heart. he simply begs him not to do this as all he does is helplessly "sit" still in one place. a dog which knows its doom is near and all it can do about it is accept it. and those still aren't his final words. his final words are "i love you" directed at jack. his family. a part of him does not want to obey. a part of him wants to lash out, be angry, be angry at the world which turned against him. no longer stay the victim. and we see just that in davetrap, which is a live (even if he's dead) manifestation of that part of dave. no matter how much he tries to get rid of his deeply rooted mindset which makes him hardwired to do what others want him to do, he can't. davetrap can't. he can't because he unreservedly loves people who hurt him. he loves henry and he loves jack. it's just like an instinct. when jack tells him to get out of his restaurant in the neutral ending of dsaf 3, he obeys. when henry asks him a question, he answers. they're his family -- how can he not listen to them and trust them with his life? that's what family's supposed to do, anyway. he learned that family members don't keep secrets from eachother. he didn't mention the box to jack until the bad ending in dsaf 3, which means that he did keep secrets from him in the past, long before he confessed he considered him his family. again, you can't keep secrets around people you love. he gave jack a key to the box and asked him to open it with him like it was a tradition. like it was something they've been doing together for 20 years, something dave can't let go of. dave likes simplicity. i can only think of three examples of simple things which bring him comfort, and the last two are not necessarily… uncomplicated. they wouldn't come across a normal person's mind if you had told them to think of something plain they enjoy doing. but those things are simple to Him and i think that that's very important for his character. even if complicated, it is easy to him. the first thing is vegas. in vegas, he has the chance to just have fun. like a normal person. a normal person with a fucked up and soulless friend, but a friend nonetheless. a person who doesn't kill innocent children. a person who wasn't abused in the past. a person just like all the other people currently at a club with him in las vegas. the second example is animatronics and just tampering with mechanics in general. that is something he is good at, most importantly. he's been working with henry long enough to just tamper with fazbender's animatronics for fun or to disable them to his advantage. he got used to this and it became simple to him with time. and the last thing on the list -- killing kids. that doesn't bring him joy, obviously, but it works as a last resort if things go south. an easy option like many other. he has murdered many in the past, so do just a few more children make that big of a difference? jack is simple to him because that's just someone who he is "friends" with, if you can even put it that way. he clings to him. he's simple, even if he is a very complex character. dave himself is, too, or atleast in henry's eyes. the doctor sees him as dimwitted, someone who's unable to comprehend his genius. like a dog, far below a human person. simplicity isn't something that dave was exposed to very often as a child. he had to constantly perform for food and sleep outside and whatnot just to survive. a kid shouldn't have to be on his own for years. simplicity just wasn't something that was available to him for free in those times.

that was, until he met henry. henry made it better for him, even if there were layers upon layers of abuse under how he was helping dave. he did make it better. he no longer had to fend for himself, alone. he was no longer abandoned, much like a terrified dog picked up from the damp streets. everything was better, so he didn't question anything. he was loved, he had someone close to him, he had shelter, a purpose, even if it was to be used and later discarded, no longer a man with hope for the future. but how could he know? and now, he is drawn to things which he lacked in his childhood. simple things. he loves them unconditionally. they remind him of henry.

[r0tting-rat]

The fanfiction officially has a name now! And a house in the sims as well, although that's still a work in progress… Anyway! I don't promise anything yet, but let me share the concept with you, okay? (This is just a wip, I did not put any effort into this so I'm sorry) (Also, I abandoned Stoker and gave my soul to Poe, as you can probably see by… well, everything.)

Midnight Overture: Cotard's Delirium

It's 1988, and in the little city of Pacewood, near Towerdom Lake, down a little road half hidden by the trees, is Oleander Manor—a beautiful house of bricks and ebony who stands tall, proud, and old against the gray sky of January.

The people say the manor is haunted, but who could blame them? It's old, the portraits hanging from the walls depict men and women in beautiful gowns from the 19th century that not even a direct descendant could name, of course the place is haunted — although the current owners of the house claim otherwise.

Living in Oleander Manor are three children, orphans, with their two legal guardians: a pair of automata built by the long-passed owner of the house and adoptive father of the three, Augustus Barnard. The older of the the kids, Annabel, will inherit the house and everything inside — automata included — as soon as she turns 18, which won't happen until 6 more years.

If questioned, the two automata will claim to have never seen any ghost or presence inside their house. The kids, however, never miss an opportunity to tell you everything they know about the corpse in the basement, about the woman with their mother's voice in the attic, about how, sometimes, the walls whisper and bleed. 

“Mr Sun doesn't like it when we talk about them, he says we're past the age of imaginary friends.”

You're just looking for some easy money and a place to stay, you're not planning to plant your roots in Pacewood — or anywhere at all, for that matter. You'll take any job, do whatever needs to be done, work for whoever offers a good enough pay, even if they're... well, not human, to your big dismay. 

What an unfortunate situation! Three children with an incredibly morbid imagination, a pair of automata unable to keep their hands to themselves who seem to have grown a tad too close to the new hire, and a wanderer with automatonophobia. Life can get pretty crazy sometimes.

Friendly reminder that this story will contain:

For sure: gore, blood, suggestive themes, torture, mental illness, child and animal death, vivid descriptions of violence and injury, "yandere" behavior from our dear boys.

Most likely (still considering): explicit and consensual nsfw content between adults. Sorry, but I like to be… precise when it comes to this stuff.

Therefore, this story will probably be 18+ (if I do decide to include the nsfw content, otherwise it will be tagged as Mature and be 16+), so yeah, beware.

[hestzhyen]

On Hakuri and 愛 (Pure Love)

Hello dear void. Here's a crazy character theory/interpretation for you: Sazanami Hakuri has no idea what love is supposed to feel like or be expressed as and it deeply affects his character to the point of being a major (and tragic) flaw. This is at least half the the reason why he's devoted to saving lives no matter the cost to himself, and he will continue to be this way until his lack of understanding is addressed and corrected. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Just kidding, of course there's a yapfest coming.

This was part of my usual weekly chapter rant until I realized it needed to be it's own thing. As to why I'm going on about this: blame the colour page. The captions get removed for the English publication, but there's always some text in the Japanese version. In this case, for our first-ever solo Hakuri colour page, we got: 胸に秘めたその信念- [mune ni hi meta sono shinen-; "The conviction(s) hidden in his heart..."] (My TL isn't perfect, but the sentence is simple enough that I'm confident I got it mostly right.)

Hidden, hm? Hakuri, the most zero-filter, living-in-the-moment, heart-on-his-sleeve guy in the Kagurabachi universe is hiding something? Of course he is! We just went through a whole arc about it!

The easiest conclusion to draw is that caption is talking about Ice Lady and/or the indoctrination he underwent growing up as a Sazanami.

He only mentioned Ice Lady as "someone who set [him] on the right path" to Chihiro in a flashback panel in chapter 34- no one in the cast except Hakuri knows what happened with her. He keeps her memory close but hidden from the world. Her suicide drives him to be a savior regardless of the cost to himself; he'll never let another life slip through his hands again even if he can't or won't talk about her. She's definitely his reason to exist as he is right now.

As for the indoctrination, growing up as a Sazanami means believing that you are a tool that lives for the Rakuzaichi. That sort of thinking is still present in Hakuri too- he just shifted the fervor from "honor the Rakuzaichi" to "make the world a safer place".

It's hard to say how much of his lineage he's hiding right now (if any at all) as of writing this, but Hakuri doesn't seem to be taking any precautions to keep people from finding out he's a Sazanami. He was even completely up front with Chihiro and Shiba about it and his family's mindset when they met! So he might not be cognizant himself about why he's so wholehearted in his devotion to a cause, but it's there in plain sight for anyone to remark on.

All that said, I'd like to posit that there's another 信念 -conviction or belief- that Hakuri's hiding- one that he's buried so deep that he doesn't realize it's even there, despite it being just as influential as Ice Lady. It's the depressing result of being raised as a "tool". Worse, a "useless" one.

Hakuri's deeply held belief in his own lack of worth is a key factor in his suicidal recklessness when it comes to acting on his other convictions.

"You poor thing. You're the one imprisoned in a cage."

It's all rooted in the Sazanami interpretation of "love", of course. Hakuri's warped view of affection is a key factor in why he's so goddamn reckless. He rejected the way his family viewed and treated other people like Ice Lady, but he hasn't spared any of that righteous anger for himself. He completely accepted how his family treated him and still holds the same mindset towards himself, whether he acknowledges it or not.

Because this is not something someone just shrugs off after an arc (not with a competent writer, anyway):

Most people would not frame this kind of blatant abuse as "love" in any way, shape, or form. And yet...

"When push comes to shove, Chihiro will abandon you!! He'll put himself first! But I'm not like him! I love you unconditionally..."

"Because... you always loved me..."

Hakuri and Soya both recognize Soya's feelings for Hakuri as not just any love, but as the deepest, purest love there is: 愛 [ai]. It's a horrific interpretation of something that's supposed to be almost unspeakably precious, but that's what the arc built the Sazanami clan's whole identity as villains around. It took key aspects of Chihiro's character -specifically his father's love and legacy- and warped them into something toxic to be put down through Hakuri.

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------* Before the panic sets in, I wanna say that ai is neither inherently nor exclusively romantic- that's 恋 [koi].

Mutual feeings of ai are the end-goal of many a romance story, yes. Everything builds up to that climactic declaration of 愛してる [aishiteru, "I love you"]. But ai can also be felt for family, friends, and even pets. It's for anyone the person builds up a profound enough affection for.

So Hakuri and Soya using ai to describe Soya's feelings isn't meant to imply romantic intentions (though I understand why some people ran with that interpretation). Actually, I will vehemently argue the opinion that these two using it at all means neither of them have a single clue as to what ai is supposed to look or feel like in any context. *----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

There's a reason Hakuri bitterly acknowledges Soya's abuse towards him as ai. It's the same reason Soya framed his abuse as acts of ai in the first place. It's not valid as justification, but it's understandable: they just don't know any better.

Kyora: "...Hey now, don't you love me?" Hakuri: "...? We love you." Tenri: "Of course we do."

There are multiple words for "love" in Japanese, but ai is supposed to be the deepest, sincerest, most profound and unselfish type of love there is. Ai is merely an imperfect term for an affectionate sentiment beyond words. If you have to clarify or explain your feelings as "ai", then they might not be ai in the first place.

Kyora throws around ai as something that can be used or withheld for any reason at all. Someone who truly felt ai for their kids would never do such a thing, much less consider it! But the Sazanami mindset corrupts even the concept of pure love and all of them are worse off for it.

So Hakuri only knows this ultimate form of love as abuse and manipulation. He believes that it's something conditional. Something painful.

Something he's not worthy of if it's positive, but earns if it's negative.

Any scrap of it he could get.

Contradictory and illogical? Yes. But if you understand why someone can wholeheartedly believe in that, I've got a hug or a fist bump or whatever you're comfortable with waiting for you.

Hakuri never talked about how far Soya -the manifestation of everything that was fucked up with his family- went to dehumanize him. Shiba and Chihiro got the "it wasn't so bad" version of the abuse. Just the beatings, no mention of the Visual Metaphor Tools he's still got hidden inside his storehouse. No talks about how he craved love with every fiber of his being but was tortured in the name of it over and over for years. No forced recognition that what was done to him would not be considered an act of love by any sane, rational human being.

The closest Hakuri's ever come to acknowledging that this might be an issue for him was when he asked to join Chihiro:

Taking the first step.

He's here for Ice Lady and to see if he can find out what Chihiro saw in him that made Enten a worthy trade for his "worthless", "useless" life. He's trying to understand why Chihiro regards him so highly as an "equal" as much as he's trying to be a savior. Both of these reasons drive him. But he only flashes back to one for motivation. He'd really rather not think about the other one (and hasn't outside of this moment).

No one alive knows what he truly endured and how it warped his perception of love and self-worth. He keeps his beliefs about his own worth hidden away in his storehouse as the peeler, wrench, chair, and more. Ice Lady had a glimpse, but he killed her with the loving Sazanami mindset that justified his own torture. He's carrying this burden alone and it's weighing on him and everything he's doing this arc.

So that's where we're at right now. Hakuri's reasons for acting the way he does are hidden alongside the beliefs about himself that he's yet to address, the combination of which is sending him into a self-destructive spiral. He won't be able to climb out of this mindset until someone can convince him that he's worthy of love just for existing- that ai is so much more than fists, metal rods, and calculated manipulation.

My hopes on how he learns this are obvious as a HakuHiro shipper, but I think it could easily come from everyone around him. Shiba, Char, Hinao, maybe Samura and Uruha and other characters we have yet to meet as well. All of them can help him let go of this hidden belief and replace it with something more wholesome. I just hope it happens before he loses something precious and irreplaceable.

[constantineshots]

"when i'm more awake" i say, delusional, like this hasn't been on my mind for a hot minute now.

i think i've discussed this before, where i'm sure that john is an unreliable narrator and everything surrounding him could just be him being . . . what the kids call 'delulu'. and while this isn't rooted in much of anything other than john being john, there's always this one specific panel and page that makes my brain go "what the fuck was that".

don't know where photo quality went. but whatever.

point is, the hellblazer issues that are RIGHT THERE. it's kind of interesting, because it either suggests that john is either somehow famous or he's living in his own little delusion about being the character from the comic series, which all in all is pretty interesting given his history. or maybe he's just super self aware, because i swear, this man nearly breaks the 4th wall in the same issue, where they're in a bar and he's like "oh crazy, feels like this is written, you know?"

and me being me, i didn't say shit ( the issue did not provide me with dialogue ).

anyways, the whole issue was rather intriguing. while we're entering the life of john constantine, there's hints that he might not be entirely mentally stable. which i mean we knew that, but like. in a different way.

or it could just be easter eggs and i'm just yapping about nothing. take your pick! ( probably the easter egg thing honestly </3 )

[11queensupreme11]

I promised myself to wait a little more before reading but I couldn't focus when I just knew this was big.

So yeah, I end reading porn while my lecture... no regrets.

Me, reading chapter 31: Percy, your daddy issues are SHOWING my girl.

Can't blame you tho, your dad's hot. He's not a DILF, he's THE DILF, He deserves every capital letter.

Love that crazy blonde, have a special place in my heart.

Grover just got himself a VIP ticket to HELL, my boy, you just got yourself a target in your back and, all satyrs in both worlds are going to suffer for that decision even with Percy's help.

Poseidon promised to do nothing, but the rest of the family didn't

Love it, cause at least they know SOMETHING is happening now, kinda of. Well, now they KNOW she's alive and that's something...

Could be worse, wondering if Grover noticed her dress and what he's going to see about it. She has become a wife/prisoner? she did run away? Percy is using really expensive jewellery like mere rocks and can say something (a god? a god from a different pantheon?)

Anyways, she's now one bad fall from diving into the incest sin and I'm pushing her, after the first wet bed... well, we know they aren't known for their patience.

I'm rotting for Sun Wukong, just imagine what that tail can do 😏😏😏 (for once, I'm not being horny, but imagine him using that tail to push her close and hugging her. I'm a bitch for cuddles, make me blush like no porn has done before).

(Odin, the other way, is a DILF I totally respect ❤️👄❤️)

Chapter 32

Well, I did see this scenery come... but Zeus accusing Hera of being unfaithful? wishing it to be real, maybe with Ganymede, just to add more burn.

Totally deserves it, but you know, isn't happening.

(Sometimes, for a little bit, I feel sad for her. Her husband is The Bitch, has an almost impossible mission and no one is helping her... well, then I remember how she treated her husband's lover, literally kids, how she's just searching for Percy cause she needs her and then I'm fine, totally deserved)

(Now I'm rooting for the RoR gods, not because they're better, just cause at least they're honest about their feelings about humanity and, don't treat their children like guns with discount in Walmart)

Poseidon taking advantages from all his chances to discover new kinks with Percy (*screams, giggles, hides her face*). You're spoiling us, brat taming is my favorite kind of dom/sub smut, so this was gooooooooood for me

Poseidon just making her cry and then making her kiss him? Percy, you're living a wattpad history and is niceeeeee

Percy/Poseidon and Percy/Beelzebub fans, we're winning tonight!!!!

Beelzebub: A life with Percy or no life at all Me: Whatever you say king, I love your crazyness, don't change

He really is ready to save her, no matter if it means she's leaving him... a maturing king, love it.

Okay, we know he'd never send her to another's man arms (Sorry, I always forget his name), but he's TRYING and that's all I ask from him. He's closer than the others...

(Feeling like that TikTok "what if he's the devil? at least the devil has a job")

(What if he's throwing away her chances to go back home, at least he takes her to Midgard dates 🙄🙄🙄🙄)

Yes, I looking throught the BIGGEST red glass, not seeing red flags, just hearts around Beelcy.

Me:

Poseidon for the horny side and Beelcebub for the romantic side ❤️❤️

You know what would be amazing? Nico having to see all of this.

Imagine, the drama.

We know you love the drama queen, don't try to fool me, I know you survive from our tears and horny desires.

(Queen... just wondering... is this a harem history (Percy ends with all the yanderes) or just one of them? cause for now in my mind they have a horary where they share Percy like a divorce child)

Amazing like always ❤️❤️❤️❤️

YOU READ INCEST PORN AND CANNIBALISM DURING YOUR CLASS LECTURE??? 💀💀💀 i could never, i don't have the guts even when my phone has the privacy screen protector thing 😂

also, "all satyrs in both worlds are going to suffer for that decision even with Percy's help." yeah the satyrs in ror verse are still in deep shit even tho percy tried to help them, cuz even though it was only the GREEK council who saw it, this whole thing made BIG NEWS

can you imagine shiva, parvati, kali, and durga's reaction to hearing that percy was "violated" by an unknown satyr IN HER DREAMS?

or loki's reaction? or literally any god that knows about her and likes her???? or just gods in general (especially the protector of children gods) 💀💀💀 like, satyrs already have a terrible reputation, but to target a "one year old" daughter of poseidon IN HER DREAMS (which is unheard of for satyrs to be capable of, which makes it even more terrifying)???? they're FUCKED 💀💀💀

pan and dionysus are gonna have to put them into hiding or something lmao

there's more posy coming in in the futre, and as for beelzebub, he's just digging a deeper and deeper grave for himself lmao. he is singlehandedly ruining his own ship 😭😭😭 but at least he still has beelcy shippers on his side 💀

[anguishedlurker]

What a burden you are

((Hey kids wanna see Danny have Enough(tm) of Valerie['s bullshit from Valerie's POV and the fallout thereof?))

Ao3 Link

Valerie found herself reflecting on her time under Masters more than she already wanted, most nights.

Tonight was worse than most. A pathetic echo in her mind trying to take root as she chased a different kind of pathetic echo.

For each and every fault he had- she could spend years counting in that miserable creep of a man- he knew his ghosts and his weapons. Very little of his advice had proven inaccurate on even the most minuscule of levels.

“An afraid ghost is never to be underestimated, yet if careful they can undo themselves with hardly an effort by you.”

But no, Phantom wasn’t afraid in front of her. Insolent brat, darting from cover to cover. To boot, it had the audacity to stick it’s tongue out at her.

The humor didn’t reach its eyes though. Not tonight. Though, it always seemed a little rougher around the edges when she managed to jump it after some ghost had tried doing her work for her.

Yet it was always almost well humored to her.

Tonight really shouldn’t be different.

“Fear will destroy them- even in the living it’s hard to control a fear response. Aimless lashing out makes openings.

Rage, on the other hand…”

And yet, Phantom seemed annoyed by her hunt tonight, of all things. How inconvenient of her, really! Maybe she’d upgrade to threat one day, if she was realllll patient…

Phantoms head finally phased out of a tree, grinning at her in a way that didn’t meet it’s eyes.

“Well, this barking match has gone on long enough to prove bite-less, so I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take my leaf!”

Pew pew, cunt.

(As always, the faint sense that her dad would be reaching for the soap brushed past her mind)

She missed, of course. It’d been a long time since she’d hit Phantom.

“Chickening out already, Phantom? Thought you were better than that.”

Keep her voice low, even. Steady. Bait doesn’t work without patience. And everything seemed to hit less and less, now.

“No you don’t. And even if you did, don’t you have work? Or school? Promotions or tests to pass, even?”

Its voice echoed from nowhere in particular, giving no indication to location.

Its staunch refusal to indicate whether or not it knew anything about her was ever present.

“Oh, you’re interested in my life? How flattering. Stay the fuck away from my apartment.”

Same song new night. Lancers test was tomorrow though, but this was more important. Shitty junior year and it’s- focus. If she can’t get to it then she simply has to improve her attempts. It will crack eventually.

“Yeah yeah, kill on sight. Seriously though, Red, how do you keep standing with the way you live? You can’t possibly be getting more than two hours of sleep a night.”

Sound to the left- Pew pew. It almost sounded concerned about her.

How pathetic.

“Who’s to say I don’t sleep during the day?”

“You don’t.”

“And you know this because?”

A question with no good implications underneath, and no good answers.

Accusations to its integrity always seemed to work best. Closest thing to falling over itself it’d get, all to prove it was a ‘good person’.

Phantom finally formed away from cover, relaxed and cozy in an imaginary reclining chair. It seemed to cycle through ways to mock her, always implying that it was completely unbothered.

Kept up its little act even when it was hit! Really, to brush off the shots like it couldn’t feel them….

Been a while since she’d made it flinch, actually. No matter what she managed to do to it.

No, no. Focus.

She could see it. The lack of real humor in its eyes- whether or not it’d admit such a thing, she was getting to it. She had to drive a knife into its cracks somehow.

“People have bills. Doesn’t take crazy stalking to figure out you either have a sponsor or are stupid rich- and you kinda stopped talking to your sponsor. Was a whole thing in the ghost community? Anyways, you need to have some sort of job or some sort of parental support at this point.”

A dead smile, a tilt of the head. Teeth much too sharp in a mouth that almost could’ve passed for a real person’s.

She’ll need to hunt down- No, it’s already out. And if she gets pissed, she’s dead.

“Rage is lethal. They’re focused, and they want you dead.

And, I mean the best when I say it dear, you don’t know rage. Not in ghosts.”

She’d argue she knew plenty about rage, period, though the point was long gone.

Pew pew.

It disappeared and reappeared two feet to the right, still smiling.

Fucker.

“What can I say, I value my independence. Strong and capable, everything a hunter needs to be.”

“Uh-huh. Who’s that philosopher that said no man is an island, again?”

It pretended to tap its foot against the dead air, taking its eyes off her as it acted out exaggerated thinking. Bait to shoot.

“John Donne. Know any philosophers that ever chatted about not dragging people down?”

“Right, this has been a delight but- hey wait, I think that’s actually right. I dunno, it’s the kind of thing I’d actually have to look up-”

“Dragging. Down. Get it? Ha. Ha.”

Finger curled around the trigger, giving one attention grabbing pew.

Vanish, and re-appear.

“Only so many times I can try to say that first and foremost, not my dog. Not at that point. Just a concerned samaritan trying to figure out why a dog was loose. You don’t care, though.”

Its tone was… more clipped than usual. And it’d been a while since it’s last pun.

Good.

“Honestly, it goes beyond the dog at this point.”

“Really, Red? Nobody’s got you at gunpoint out here.”

She’d been stewing on this one a while actually. Never a better time than the present to try a new tactic, right?

“No, no. The town Phantom. The ghosts as a whole.”

“Go harass one of the Doctor Fentons’ about the tear in the fabric of reality in their basement then.”

Oh it was seething with that one.

Good.

Yet, this was an infuriating corner.

“The Fentons have made it clear that by now, they can’t do anything.”

“I’m missing the part where you turn it into my fault. And even if your point was clear, they are liars. Bad ones.”

The accusation against the Fentons integrity had to be bait. As such, asking was caving in to its plans.

“Simple. They’re after you. It’s a game that you’re encouraging.”

Its eyes narrowed, most of its pantomimes of life and movement ceasing.

Finally.

“You have no idea how much I wish they’d stop. Not that you’re willing to learn.”

“So you admit it?”

“Nothing of the sort. If they all stopped I would stop appearing.”

“Typical.”

“Mhmm.”

“Still, guess you’re just too used to dragging people down with you, right? Enough to never notice.”

“Listen, I get to hear my friends jack off to pseudo psychology enough as it is. You got your stinger loaded yet, or should I just, like, go?”

“Well since you’re asking… let me ask; were you even a blessing in life?”

The silence was palpable.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Phantom paused, eyes narrowing further as it processed her accusation.

“What teenager is, really?” It eventually ground out, not even deigning to smile.

“I’ll have you know I was a delight.”

Wry, guiltless. Keep steady.

“Hmmm… I dunno that I believe that one, Red.”

A pretend hum, something that if written out would sound like a quip.

Its tone was completely flat.

Valerie smirked underneath her helm.

“But something like you, I can just see it. Everything falling over itself to baby your pathetic ass… How much did they give you? How much did you take from them?”

For one single second, Phantoms eyes reflected red.

“Like your dad and your hospital bills?”

Silence.

And then, rage.

“So help me, Phantom-”

“No, no Red- Let’s- I’m done, okay? You- I blaze through and you blame me, fine.”

Her shots missed, of course

“But, Valerie, how much do you cost your dad in medical bills at this point? Delight my left asscheck.”

Even in her rage, she had to pause. She’d never heard it swear.

Her shots missed again.

“You sign up to the most insane asshole you can find just to hunt down what- even with your little revenge fantasy- is some fucking teenager-”

Lots and lots of swearing.

Phantom was properly pissed this time.

Good, it was getting old not getting to it.

And nothing it could say can-

“Hell, I looked it up once- You know your little punctured lung you got off of Skulker? That your dad had to drag you out of the wreckage for and strip your suit off just to keep your little job secret? Boom, median of six grand. Right there.”

… how much?

“What does every bill combined add to Valerie? You wanna- how much of a burden- Jesus Christ. How much of a burden are you? Good god.”

How much…?

...

No, no it had to be bait. Hospitals are expensive but- well… very expensive- but!- … how much?

She was in combat.

“Deny a girl her hobbies, eh? But finally, so you do-”

“No shit I know who you are. Some chick shows up with a revenge fetish against me? I‘m investigating.”

Fucking- fetish??

“And here I though there could be some proof not all highschoolers are assholes.” She snarked, not paying attention to what she was saying. Scripts were running in her brain with no checks to see if it was sensible or not.

“I didn’t make it to highschool, Valerie. You want to kill a middleschooler, and you can’t even tell me what you’ve costed your dad to get here.”

Her gun, for the first time in... a very long time, dropped from its lock on Phantom.

“You can’t tell me what you cost but you’re just soooo cozy with telling me I must’ve been a- Fuck you. Genuinely. Did you even know the dog was one your fathers company killed? Bet you didn’t. Allll their guard dogs in training were put down for that pretty security system. A middleschooler and a dead puppy.”

“You are not a middleschooler.”

Her breathing hitched too much, she was losing herself. Phantoms youthful (manipulative, fake, anything else please) looked at her with no warmth.

No humor.

“Not anymore, no. The dead don’t have school.”

Its tone was openly cold and resentful.

In front of her was a ghost, whom she hated. It was a violent, mean, and dishonest thing with no regard for other people.

And the same eyes it’d always had stared back at her right now. Phantoms features had never budged the slightest nanometer, the last two years.

Youthful as ever.

Pew, pew.

It did not move, and it did not flinch.

“It’s been a long time since you could hurt me Valerie.”

Borderline glacial towards her, like she was a particularly stupid child.

But maybe she deserved that one, because of all things, she should’ve seen that it wasn’t acting unbothered by her shots.

“Ask your dad how much you cost him before lecturing me on- Just. God. There’s something genuinely wrong with you. And I’m not protecting you anymore, not if that’s seriously how you’re gonna treat- just… fuck you.”

It had disappeared before she could re-aim her gun at it for the audacity. Protecting her? Bullshit.

But, all alone now, board humming underneath her, left her stewing over the entire conversation.

And, well…

At least she’d obviously touched a nerve.

~~~

More than she’d ever be worth in her life, ever again, was her answer. Not the one he said, but she knew what evasion looked like. She knew what it meant.

And how much did he pay per month?

More than what they had to spare, was not said. He’d never say it.

A new fight breaking out near her was a relief, one she didn’t dwell on.

She’d just have to be careful to not get hurt. It was so simple.

And then the battle between Skulker and lunch lady halted at her appearance, Skulker turning smug while Lunch Lady looked away abruptly.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re gonna do, looking so happy over there?” She asked, strafing left as she aimed her gun.

Skulker didn’t move as the metal helm grinned wider. Lunch Lady vanished.

“Did you know Phantom declared open season on you?” Was the last thing she heard before her world was crushed.

~~~

Her dad would never blame her. Never say it.

Never tell her she was a burden.

But now- god, how much did this cost? Doctors were saying to just hope she wasn’t permanently paralyzed. Hope that she could eventually write again with her left hand, or learn to use her right.

She’d be out of school for a long time now.

At least she missed Lancers dumb test.

The heart monitor was her only company through the pain meds (that she refused most of) and incessant nurses.

Until…

“Danny?”

Silent as mist, as always. She hadn’t heard the door. But there he was, looking like he always did.

Except…

“Listen, I’m not really here to talk. I was voted to bring you your homework and flagged down to pass a note.”

His face tight, his tone blank.

“I’m sure you have things to do.”

He was probably itching to go back to trying to help his sister around the house, sweeping after the absolute tornadoes that were his parents.

A real shame Jasmine never left. An even greater shame she never admitted why she settled for the local college.

She could’ve gone places.

“Sure. Let’s go with that.” He gruffed, setting a binder of work on the first table he could find.

“Here’s your card.”

Huffed out, the card tossed with laser accuracy to her non injured hand. She’s lucky she caught it, the pain meds she couldn’t deny like weights on her one good hand.

This was- what did she do?

“Danny, what-”

“I don’t really want to hear it. ‘Cause it’s about time you knew that I know damn well what you do in your off time, and did this to yourself really.”

N

No…

No.

“And when exactly did you find out that-”

“The entire goddamn time, Val! Remember the stupid flour baby? The job I was threatening you with was ghost hunting, not being the Nasty Burger mascot! Which! I still hold to that if you weren’t ghost hunting, it wouldn’t have been that hard to do your half!”

He- no, not that long. Impossible. Nobody else had even looked at it as a serious-

He’s always been a little smarter than what he lets everyone know.

The last lick of sense echoed through what had to be the meds. Danny, always there, seeming to know more than what anyone had ever told him. Easy to work with, happy to obey. He made it so very easy to forget he was so bright.

Focus.

“Fine, fine! But I didn’t- Skulker-”

“God- just… God. Don’t. Nobody asked you to fight them. You tossed out everything and everyone that didn’t fit to do it, too.’

“I didn’t do-”

“We are not friends, Valerie. You don’t have any friends, and we’re barely ex’s at this point. And for what?”

“Barely even- What are you on about??”

“Val, we dated for like, two weeks two years ago! And you dumped me to go chase after Phantom, ‘cause fuck having a real life with friends or a boyfriend!”

It was like a fun house mirror held up to those memories, how he stood there now.

Never did get taller, never did lose most of the baby fat. Now standing there seething with hate instead of adoration.

He still looked as frail as ever.

“But Phantom-”

“Shut up, take your homework, and read your shitty card.” He growled, already heading for the door.

No- No! It’s just- This isn’t like Danny! Danny… Danny just never swore- it was like, hardcoded into him!

“And what the fuck did I do to earn this? God, if it turns out you got possessed-”

Danny paused, looking back at her for a split second. So short she could’ve hallucinated it the heartstopping look before he went straight back to having his hands on the door, ready to bolt.

“Would you say that shit to me?”

“I… What?”

“What? You don’t think I ever managed to talk to some of the ghosts? I know what you said to him. Would you say it to me?”

“Of course not!”

“No, no, of course you wouldn’t. Never would even think about it, right? Fentons too cute and innocent, and small to- ugh. I know why you never tried making friends with me and Tuck- Sam hated you- but- fuck. Don’t talk to me.”

She had nothing left. Danny was-

Too cute, innocent, and small to spew this kind of hatred at her?

Ugh… Who knew such an adorable little face could be so mean...

He looked ready to slam the door. He looked like it was taking great restraint to not, every muscle so obviously tense underneath all his layers.

It’s a wonder how he never overheated.

And at the last second, he hesitated.

“I never wanted you hurt, I… I promise, even if I’m mad. Enraged, even. But I just don’t know what you thought was going to happen, anymore.”

And then it was slammed shut, leaving her with the sinking feeling he was gone forever from her life.

… fuck.

Alone, again now, with a heart monitor and a card from- Well, Danny hadn’t mentioned.

God that stung. Couldn’t even stay to say who still had a heart for her.

She needed to move on, already, because burnt bridges weren’t going to get fixed any time soon. And that left the card as her only option forward right now, right?

It was just folded printer paper, with no decoration on the outside.

And on the inside-

One logo, seared into her brain well over two years ago. Looking at her.

“I don’t know why I thought you were worth defending.

They won’t be nice about it ever again.

-DP”

She hid the card under her hip, eventually. Made a nurse toss it out the next time one came around.

Pretended like she hadn’t seen it.

[fanfiction--anon]

Cabin Visit

Summary: Catcf!Vox pays a long overdue visit to his Alastor. The others are there for moral support.

A/N: Welcome back @hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog we missed you. Glad to see you're doing well. Here's a treat. This is based off of the scene in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005) where Charlie and Willy Wonka meet Wonka's father. I know officially it's just supposed to be Catcf Vox and Charlie visiting Alastor according to the plot, but the plot demanded I write the AU Crossovers version and so this is what my brain came up with.

Warnings: None, I think.

Catcf Vox leads the party through the grove of trees. “Just a little further, I promise. His house is here.”

Highschool Alastor stumbles through a spiderweb and freaks out before trying to swat the sticky threads away to no avail. “Are you absolutely sure about that, Mr. Factory Tour? It feels like we're lost.” His Vox calms him down by grabbing him by the shoulders before moving to wipe off the silver residue.

Vox shakes his head. “No. I'm sure. He sent me a letter once, and I sent Vark to keep him company, remember? This is, without a doubt, where he lives.” Not for the first time, he wonders why he let the kids and the Charlies talk him into visiting his husband once the tour was concluded.

He bats away a rather large mosquito buzzing around his screen, and it flies straight into a tree and splatters on impact.

The kids cringe and quickly follow after their parents, or in the Highschoolers’ case, between Radio Guard Alastor and the parental couples.

“Hey,” Highschool Vox says, “what's your Alastor like? You mention him a lot but that was because you wanted to show off your radio room on the tour.”

Vox thinks for a second, about all the times Alastor then smiles. “He was—is my biggest supporter. Even when he was sad about me spending so much time working, he always made sure to check up on me and see if I needed any food or help with building my company. I felt like I had to work hard to make sure that all of Alastor's work as my first supporter wouldn't go to waste. I didn't want my company to fail because I felt like it would let him down.” He frowns as he recalls the long hours he spent in his office or overseeing workers in the late 60s, and seeing Alastor and Vark sparingly. It feels odd that all of that happened about sixty years ago. "I did end up owning the largest ever factory in Hell, but at the cost of my husband."

"That's kind of depressing now that you're saying it out loud," Domestic Vox mutters. "You really couldn't just call him?"

"I hadn't talked to him in weeks remember? I didn't understand why he left at the time and once I realized why he did it would have been awkward to send him a letter asking going like 'Hey Al, I'm sorry for neglecting you for weeks and then not contacting you for another month minus that time where I sent over Vark to keep you company but would you like to come back?' and making things worse between us," Catcf Vox retorts.

"Excuses, excuses," Domestic Alastor sings to him as he pulls his Charlie up before she trips on a tree root. "You two are even worse than Canon and Radio Guard when it comes to communication!"

The two couples from the mentioned universes shift awkwardly at his words.

"Fuck off," Catcf Vox says without any real heat. "We're going to visit him now, aren't we?"

“We had better be close,” Canon Vox grouses, breaking the silence. “I'm getting mud all over my shoes. Your husband is crazy for deciding to live here. Why didn't he divorce you as soon as possible?”

“Shut it Canon,” Catcf Vox snaps. “I don't want to hear anything from the one who can't even get his Alastor to acknowledge him as a past friend—" Canon Alastor flashes a smug grin. "—and we've arrived anyway so stop complaining.”

And as if on cue, the clearing where his Alastor's cabin is comes into view.

“Woah!” Highschool Vox gasps. “It's better looking than I thought it would be.”

“This is just like the movie,” Highschool Alastor mutters at the same time.

It's a nice cabin, if Vox is being honest. The way it's built suggests that it's meant to withstand the test of time and weather. There's even a shed nearby that he guesses is meant to store or cure Alastor's sinner meat. Vox can sense that the bayou’s shore isn't too far off; just close enough that Alastor doesn't have to exert himself when walking there. The only thing missing is Alastor himself. Vox can't feel his radio signal anywhere. He doesn't know when he stopped feeling it. Maybe their connection burnt out when his husband left. But Vox remembers exactly how it felt like. He hopes Alastor isn't hurt or at the mercy of someone else. He looks at the front door.

Catcf Charlie steps up beside him. “You're gonna knock, right? What are you waiting for?”

Vox stares at the cabin, and all the false bravado he's been collecting throughout the trip suddenly melts away and ice runs through his circuits.

He can't do this.

“Actually I think we've got the wrong house,” he manages to wheeze out. “We should probably leave—”

Catcf Charlie catches him by the shoulder as he turns and gives him a smile. “Nice try Mr. Vox, but you're not getting out of this one.” She turns him back around and pushes him towards the door. You're going to be there next to me when I knock on the door and your husband opens it."

She pulls him along with surprising strength and Vox fidgets as she knocks thrice and backs off, leaving him to his own devices as loud barking comes from inside the cabin.

Alastor is about to take a sip of coffee when he hears three knocks on the door. He jumps, having grown used to not expecting visitors at all with only the silence of the bayou and noise from the animals for company. Even Rosie prefers staying within the territory of Cannibal Town or Vox’s factory and only comes to see how he's doing every few months. But her visits are scheduled in advance, and she's never come without notifying him first.

So for this break in routine to be happening, it means there's either an emergency in the more populated regions of Hell, his husband's factory is having a crisis, or someone else other than Rosie is visiting him.

Alastor can say with confidence that there's no emergency in Hell. An hour earlier his shadows returned from surveillance and it's just the usual violence and degeneracy of Hell's citizens happening.

He can also strike his husband's factory being in crisis. Despite what others think, he does keep up with the news about his estranged husband. He can thank his shadow for that, always flitting about within the darkness of his husband's empire. Shadow also makes it a goal to bring back newspapers and other memorabilia whenever Alastor has the desire to see his husband's face, even if it's only on paper.

That only leaves the third option. A stranger at the door.

Alastor has no cameras in his cabin. All he has are the shadows and windows.

He doesn't know who's at the door.

Decades ago he'd turned off his radio waves because he had no use for them. Not when the only other demon who could use them stopped doing so for weeks at a time until they eventually got used to living separately with no communication. Alastor had taken it even further and moved here since he couldn't stand the big empty house with only Husk and Niffty for company. Now he's wondering whether his decision to live “off-the-grid” was a good idea considering how uneasy he feels at the thought of opening the door to what could be a stranger.

Vark, however, shows no such reservations. He leaps up from his position on the rug and bounds up to the door, scratching it and barking loudly and glancing back at him with pleading eyes.

“Vark,” Alastor calls, “calm down. What's gotten into you?”

Vark turns to him, eyes wide and pleading. He does his best impression of puppy dog eyes, and much to Alastor's chagrin, they're extremely effective, just as they were decades ago. He sighs and sets his mug down. He really can't deny his little shark anything.

As he rises from his seat something pings at the back of his mind. Like an old signal, finally breaking through a barrier.

Alastor sucks in a breath through his teeth. Hesitantly, he lets a sliver of static loose.

It zips through the air and immediately curls around a familiar signal that's not his and senses several similar signals within the same space before fizzling out.

Alastor frowns. “That can't be right.” he'd given up on keeping contact with his estranged husband decades ago. There's no reason for him to come all the way down to the bayou just to visit Alastor.

And yet…

Alastor hums to himself, then shakes his head. It's a pipe dream. Just because a part of him wants his husband to be there with him and Vark doesn't mean it will happen.

He grits his teeth.

Years of crying himself to sleep and hugging Vark for comfort have already come and gone. He shouldn't keep feeling sad. It's not logical.

But the feelings of the heart rarely follow the rules of logic.

Vark continues pawing at the door and Alastor chuckles morosely.

“Alright, alright. I'm coming.”

As soon as the door is opened just a smidge, Vark shoots forward and out into the yard.

There's a loud yelp, a shriek of fear, several yells of surprise, and then laughter.

Alastor freezes. That sounds like…

He pushes open the door to see what's going on, and his heart stops beating.

It's not the crowd of demons gathered around in a circle that grabs his attention, no matter how many of them have familiar looks.

It's not the pair of teenagers that are very clearly human instead of citizens of Hell that catch his eye either.

It's not even the fact that some of those guests look like the princess of Hell.

All his attention is focused on something else.

Because there, sitting on his front yard at the bottom of his porch stairs with Vark laying on top of him, is a figure he’s only seen in pictures and newspapers for the past sixty years.

Alastor knows that figure. He'll recognize that demon anywhere. That bright orange vest and green plaid pants, paired with a striped blue tie and topped with a garish magenta blazer.

He looks exactly like he did when Alastor had departed for the cabin in the 60s. He even has his little hat and the microphone staff Alastor had left behind for him.

None of them are looking at him.

His husband is distracted with Vark, and none of the others sense him because, well, his radio waves are off.

It feels surreal, almost like a dream.

But Alastor desperately wants this to be true. He needs to confirm that this is true.

So, making his decision, Alastor takes a step forward, his heeled shoes clacking loudly on the wooden porch.

The sound attracts everyone’s attention to him, but Alastor only has eyes for one other.

The TV demon on the ground stares up at him in surprise with wide eyes, mirroring Vark’s happy look as the shark-dog wiggles in his lap.

Softly, because he fears that if he speaks any louder he'll wake up to find out this was just a dream, Alastor asks, “Vox? Is that you?”

Taglist: @hazbinhazbinhazbinreblog

[baura-bear]

what do you think babe’s favorite food is. what do you think he and gene do on dates. what song do they dance to when they’re alone. who is the big spoon. this is all very important

Oh you are asking the big questions huh. This is all very important.

Babes favorite food. Ok I don’t have a specific food in mind but it’s definitely some flavorless, seasonless, white boy bullshit that pisses Eugene off. You just know Babe is like “mmmmm a nice home cooked meal of [insert bland food]” and Eugene is like. “Is there even salt in this???” And Babe’s like mouth full “wym it’s bursting with flavor.” Anyway post war Eugene is perfect housewife cooks every meal because his boyfriend doesn’t know what flavor is. Eugene probably uses too much pepper once and Babe is like “zoo wee mama what special Cajun spices did you add to this” and Eugene just has to rub his temples and try not to get a headache.

Ok that was for sillies but (also kind of serious because he grew up in an Irish Catholic family during the depression) I imagine it’s probably something his mom cooked growing up. The stew I mentioned in my most recent fic, though I didn’t say it, is Irish stew. Which I know is like such a broad label and isn’t like a specific recipe. But like root vegetables, meat, and broth can be easily made, feed a lot of people, and is yummy so I think something warm and cozy like that is something he likes. Or something silly like hotdogs.

What do him and Eugene do on dates ouuuuyuuughhgh oh my godosodossdddd. I kinda said this above but I think Eugene loves cooking for Babe and I imagine them just like Hanging Out together and joking around like Eugene in the kitchen cooking up a storm and Babe’s there cracking jokes and trying to distract Eugene and he’s always in the way but Eugene just kisses him and pushes him to the side like “if you don’t want to get burned with a hot pan you need to take five steps back” I also think Babe likes showing Eugene around the city and everything there is to do (I’m saying all this imagining them in Philly because yes). They probably go to a baseball game once and Babe’s really into and Gene is just along for the ride. (Babe wears a Phillies cap and Gene is just so smitten)

It’s the 40s so obviously if they want a romantic date night it’s a night in so moving onto the next question because I think they slow dance together all the time and it’s nothing crazy they just love holding each other and getting to talk about their day and one of them always ends up humming or singing along to the music and they just find it so endearing. This is. So difficult. I think mostly it’s just like holding each other and yknow the classic kinda toddling along slow dance. But I think Babe’s favorite ever is the fast peppy songs that he can sling Eugene around the room to (I mean c’mon this kid ran a dance hall) swing dancing and they’re both laughing and a few times they’ve probably run into the couch or a shelf or something and tripped over each other and just ended up on the floor laughing. (I want them to be happy oh my god)

Night and Day - Billie Holiday

At Last - Etta James

Sing Sing Sing - Benny Goodman (I can just imagine them giggling while Babe leads them in like classic 1940s swing dancing)

Ok I’ve been browsing my playlists for like 15 minutes so those are the songs you’re getting for now maybe I’ll make a baberoe playlist one day hehe

WHO IS THE BIG/LITTLE SPOON OUGHHGHG I’m not joking I ponder on this so often. I kinda feel like they take turns depending on who Needs it. But instinct tells me that Eugene is big spoon he’ll kiss the back of Babe’s neck and press his forehead into his back. When Eugene wants to be little spoon they do the like. Eugene’s head on Babe’s chest with Babe’s arms wrapped around Eugene’s shoulders yknow. Like not actually spooning but. Eugene is the little spoon of that position. And Babe always has a hand running through Eugene’s hair scratching his scalp

Thanks for letting me be autistic :3