#crosie

[thatsrightice]

February 3rd, Rosie got shot down.

On March 1st, Crosby received a phone call.

It was Rosie.

"I'm in Russia. Will you save a squadron for me?”

He could have called and asked for anybody, and he asked for Crosby.

[spinteresting]

MotA ship headcanons

Who is the jealous type?

Clegan

Bucky is the jealous one. Have you seen his reactions to Marge? Case closed. He gets snarky and begs for attention. Gale shuts down his emotions so hard he wouldn’t know he was jealous until a year later.

Crosie

Crosby gets sporadically jealous. You never know when his jealousy will strike. When he’s jealous he gets flustered and talks too much. Rosie is just not the jealous type.

Dougley

Ev is always cool and collected, but Dougie gets jealous whenever another guy flirts with Ev. Girls he doesn’t mind, he knows Ev isn’t actually interested in them. But if a guy flirts with Ev, Dougie will quickly butt in and stake his claim with an arm thrown over Ev’s shoulder.

Ham x Brady

Brady is the jealous type but he tries to keep it under control. He knows logically that Ham and Dougie are just friends but his primal brain often makes him want to pull Ham away. He doesn’t though.

Do Ham & Brady have a ship name?

[scuttle-buttle]

BEEEEE I HEARD CROZ AND ROSIE HCS??? 👀👀👀 I WILL TAKE LITERALLY ANYTHING YOU HAVE but also I’d absolutely love anything related to the Co-Pilots universe if you have anything 👀👉👈

Hope you’re having a good day!! 🥰

- Sage 🤍 @sagesolsticewrites

Bestieeeeee 🥰

18+ under the cut

Crosby discovers he has a thing for mustaches. After he and Rosie give in to each other he learns that the feel of those little tiny hairs on his upper lip feels really really good in many places. Whether it's his mouth, his neck, his tummy, his thighs, or his - 🐛. He loves that scratch. He revels in the patches of beard (mustache) burn that redden his thighs, how nobody knows his secret under his trousers. Nobody but you and him and Rosie.

Alternatively, rosie discovers he has his version of the kink. He loves Crosby's nose. How it gives Croz such a unique and beautiful side profile. How when Croz laughs too hard it sometimes makes a little snort. The feel of it dragging up his shoulder blade, his neck, his calves, the ridges of his - 🐛

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: [GROUND]: during a moment of intense emotional stress, the sender gently takes the receiver's face in their hands to ground them until they're calmer again. (Crosie)

Content warning in this one: There's detail on the gas chambers in the camps during the Holocaust. This includes talking about how the Nazis disguised shower rooms to look like Jewish bathhouses as a way to trick prisoners into calmly walking towards them. I'm not sure how widespread this practice was, but I know they found evidence of it at Treblinka.

Anyway, to the hurt/comfort

Harry's in the living room when he hears a thump from Rosie's office. "Rosie?" he calls, expecting the usual reply of 'Fine, just dropped a book,'. 

He glances at the clock. It's after eight. Rosie's been up since four this morning, working since five. Harry had woken at six and found Rosie scribbling notes on a pad and ignoring the sunrise over Nuremberg.

Harry's used to the long hours Rosie keeps right now. He's in Nuremberg to prosecute war criminals. It takes a lot of work. But eight in the evening is late even for Rosie, so Harry stands up and walks down the hall ready to tease Rosie about acting a bit too much like himself with these hours. 

The smile and joke die in his throat as he walks into the office and finds Rosie curled up next to the armchair.  There's a file on the floor, papers scattered in a fan. There's no book. The thump was Rosie falling to the floor. 

Harry rushes over and crouches down. "Rosie?" he asks. Rosie's staring into the middle distance, far away from his office and Harry. Harry touches Rosie's arm, but Rosie doesn't look at him. Harry  glances at the papers, trying to figure out what's caused Rosie to go still. There's a piece of paper turned face down, and Harry turns it over. He skims it. It's an affidavit from someone who survived the camps. Harry knows Rosie's read a lot of them. He wonders what in this one has hurt him like this.

Rosie makes a small sound, and Harry turns, dropping the paper back to the floor. He reaches out and cups Rosie's face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. 

"I'm right here," Harry says, looking into Rosie's eyes but unsurprised when he still doesn't focus. "It's Harry, Rosie. I'm here. You're in your office in the apartment in Nuremberg."

Finally, Rosie blinks. His eyes focus on Harry's. Tears start forming. "I saw one," he says.

"Saw what?" Harry asks. 

"A shower. There weren't…no one was there. But they'd been there." 

Harry doesn't know what to say. He knows about the camps, of course. Everyone does. It's been on the newsreels and in the papers and Eisenhower even sent boys to witness the first one they'd found. He knows about the showers, too. How they were used. He keeps stroking Rosie's cheeks even as Rosie's tears fall and trail along his hands. 

"They kept adding it to the camps," Rosie says, and his eyes flick to the papers on the floor. "They were…We know it was all planned. But."  He closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath. "Harry, it was planned." 

Harry drops one hand from Rosie's cheek and turns towards the papers again. He picks up the one he was reading before and reads it more closely. The witness talks about building the shower room, about placing tiles.

"The gas took time," Rosie says. "They had time to scratch into the walls."

Harry reads over the whole page again. The witness doesn't say anything about the walls. "What walls, Rosie?" Harry asks.

"At the camp," Rosie says. "At the camp I saw."

Harry goes very still. "You…when did you see a camp?"

"The Russians," Rosie replies. 

Harry slips his hand from Rosie's cheek to under his chin. He tilts up Rosie's chin. Rosie's face is red and wet. There's a horrible emptiness in his eyes Harry's only seen after his nightmares. "Come  here," Harry says and pulls at Rosie's arm–the one that broke, he realizes–until Rosie gets to his feet and lets Harry sit him on the couch. Harry sits next to him, then pulls him in tight. "What did you see, Rosie?" he asks. Because there is no other question. He'd had no idea Rosie had seen a camp for himself, but the newsreels nearly made Harry sick, and he can't imagine it wasn't exponentially worse up close. 

"They had scratched things into the walls," Rosie says. "Names. Prayers. A menorah."

Harry strokes Rosie's hair. He has no idea what to say. He's so shocked even his anxiety is quiet. The idea that there were people in those rooms who knew they were dying. Who'd scratched some sort of memorial with…fingernails? It had to be fingernails. They'd have been naked in that room.

"It was disguised as a mikvah," Rosie says. "To keep them calm; to trick them. So they wouldn't know they were going to die. They scratched on the walls."

"What's a mikvah?" Harry asks. The word hadn't been on the page he'd read. It must have been on one of the others on the floor. 

"A bathhouse," Rosie says. "A Jewish bathhouse. They're special, not just a place to get clean. They can look like…"

Like the showerhouses, Harry realizes. "I understand," he says, and he's glad he's said it because Rosie sags against him and sobs in a way he clearly needs. 

But he's lying a little. He doesn't understand. Can't possibly, he knows that. The Nazis took something special and made it profane, used Jewish traditions against the Jews to make it easier to kill them en masse. What must it feel like to know for certain you're dying, Harry wonders. What must it feel like to walk into a death chamber disguised as something you trust and have to scratch your final hopes into a wall with your fingernails?

Harry turns his face into Rosie's curls and takes a deep, slow breath. Rosie keeps sobbing on his shoulder, and he stays put, offering what little comfort he can.

[daysofxavierspast]

Sleepover weekend: Top 3 ships in hbo war? Feel free to elaborate about what makes them the best.

OOH BABY! Thank you for the ask!

1. Crubbles: nothing but sweetness and soft boys with these two. If you see one of them, the other one probably isn’t too far away. PEAK friends to lovers trope usage.

2. Crosie: hypercompetence loves hypercompetence! To add to that, @sweaterkittensahoy dom/sub fics got me FERAL about these two.

3. Dougley: the official old married couple of the 100th!

Added bonus!

4. RosieLemmons: I completely love @sweaterkittensahoy for getting me to board this ship! Much like with Crubbles, sweetness is abundant with these two.

[ecoustsaintmein]

shameless self-promotion time

I haven't been able to contribute much to the MotA fandom, apart from some amateur art, but I did write some Crosie fics, given that there has been much interest in their relationship within the fandom recently:

monsters, (rated T):

'Rosie says that he’s read Croz’s last letter; one he received before the last one from Jean. “I’m flattered,” Rosie begins, “—that you’d thought about me at night. Sounds a bit like a love letter, don’t you think?”'

Or,

Croz is struggling with civilian life after the war. Jean stages an intervention by inviting Rosie to spend time at their home. The result is not what Croz expects.

bite, (rated M):

'You think you know how Eve must have felt when she held the apple in her palm, red and tempting.'

Or,

Croz reflects on the secret relationship he has with Rosie.

[daysofxavierspast]

This applies for basically every MOTA ship.

[thatsrightice]

I’m just imagining Buck, Bucky, and the other POWs at Thorpe Abbotts asking Rosie and Croz about D-Day and Rosie and Croz happily tell them about the planning and stuff that led up to it. When they start to ask about the mission itself, Croz lets Rosie take over.

But then they turn to Crosby and are like ��how about you Croz? I bet you were leading the whole shebang” and now he has to admit that he didn’t fly the mission, which he’s still very much upset about so he doesn’t elaborate much. Everyone’s outraged for him, like “They didn’t let you fly? Well, why the heck not?!”

Leave it to Rosie to quietly step in and explain that “He was in the hospital.” Eyes immediately snap to the navigator who is refusing to look at any of them out of embarrassment. “He was in a coma for three days. Malnutrition, dehydration, and sleep deprivation, you name it. Smokey said he just about worked himself to death up in Group Ops.”

And Crosby was going to protest, but nah that actually sounded pretty accurate. “Couldn’t keep a proper meal down for days,” he’d try to joke, but everyone just kept staring at him.

[spinteresting]

Rosie/Crosby "Did you just try to kiss it better?"

Thanks for the prompt! This was fun to write.

Crosby looks up from his records when he hears the door bang open. Rosie is standing in the doorway dripping onto the mat.

“Is it raining?” Crosby asks.

“No. It is not raining, Croz.” Rosie says with a scowl and walks into the room.

“How’d you get so wet and muddy then?”

Rosie pulls off his jacket and shirt. “I wrecked the stupid bike again. How is it that I can fly an airplane but can’t steer a bike?!”

Crosby fights the grin trying to take over his face. “It’s not you. It’s these English bicycles. They’re terrible.”

Crosby crosses the room to stand in front of Rosie. His poor Rosie who can’t get the hang of riding these bikes.

“But no one else is wrecking as often as I am!” Rosie is more exasperated than Crosby had ever seen him. “Think I bruised my shoulder this time.”

Crosby grins up at him before leaning forward and kissing his shoulder.

Rosie smiles crookedly. “Did you just try to kiss it better?”

Crosby nods and giggles. “I think you’ve got some mud in your hair.”

[daysofxavierspast]

Bringing this masterpiece back

when you sleep through a pivotal moment in history

[sweaterkittensahoy]

if ur still taking prompts can i request more daddy rosie and harry 😁😁 preferably with harry acting up but that’s all urs to decide

"You're being a brat, Harry," Rosie says quietly as they sit in the officer's club. Harry's been leaning in close all night, just barely touching Rosie on his leg and his arm, staring at him with his eyes half-closed and tapping his fingers on the cocktail skewer with very deliberate rhythm. 

Harry responds by leaning back in his chair and stretching from head to toe, lifting his hips from the seat while staring at Rosie. "Oh, sorry," he says. "Not trying to be a bother."

Rosie feels himself grin just a little. He can't help it. "I don't believe you," he says. 

Harry shrugs and sips his drink. He leans towards Rosie again and reaches out with one hand, plucks at something on Rosie's shoulder near his neck and just manages to brush his thumb on his ear. "Maybe you shouldn't," he murmurs. "Maybe you should catch me lying." 

And Rosie's hot under the collar in an instant. He takes a slow breath and shifts so he's facing Harry more directly, stretches out is legs so their ankles touch. Harry doesn't back away, which makes it easy for Rosie to speak directly into his ear. To anyone around them, it just looks like they're trying to hear each other over the noise, same as anyone else. "Is that what you want? Want me to take you around the back and press you against the wall and give you a little punishment for this attitude?" 

"If you're not too tired," Harry taunts, and it's definitely a taunt, all hot breath and arch tone. Rosie wants to grab him by the hair and pull back slowly until Harry's neck and back are arched sharply. Show the whole room what a fucking handful he is. 

"Finish your drink," Rosie says. "Quickly." He leans back in his chair, smiling like they're having a perfectly repeatable conversation. He watches Harry lounge back in his seat like a contented cat, and his dick throbs when Harry picks up his martini and takes a tiny, delicate sip. 

Oh, it's going to be like that.

Rosie waits him out, letting him take the tiny, slow sips of his drink. He gets up at one point and has a quick conversation with Pappy just so he can turn and catch Harry staring when he's done. He walks back over and leans down. "You done?" He asks. 

Harry meets his eyes and swallows the last of his drink. "Looks like," he replies. 

Rosie doesn't waste any time. He touches Harry's elbow as they leave and directs him behind the officer's club. It's dark back here, no windows on this wall. He backs himself against the wall, then grabs Harry's chin, making Harry look at him. "Baby boy, you're asking for trouble," he says. 

"You always say you'll give me what I want," Harry replies. 

Rosie can't help his groan. Harry's all sharp, confident lines and brash energy. He wants to kiss him until he's whimpering, but he can't, not just yet. Harry wants to get punished for being a brat, and Rosie will oblige. 

"On your knees, put my cock in your mouth, but do not suck it until I say so," Rosie says. He tightens his grip on Harry's chin for just a moment. "If you try and get tricky about this, baby boy, I won't touch you for days."

Harry's eyes flutter shut, and he breathes out shakily, and when he opens his eyes again, the brashness is gone. He's soft and sweet in his eyes, and he brings up one hand to hold gently to Rosie's wrist. "I'm listening," he says. "I'm listening, Rosie." 

Rosie slides his thumb along Harry's bottom lip. "Prove it," he says.

Harry drops to his knees and opens Rosie's trousers, pulling his dick out of his underwear with a careful, slow movement. He looks up at Rosie with his mouth half-open, and then he swallows hard before leading Rosie's length into his mouth. 

Rosie sighs at the hot wetness of Harry's mouth, of the way Harry's cheeks contract the tiniest bit before he freezes and breathes out hard through his nose. "That's the only slip you get, baby boy," Rosie threatens, and Harry shivers and tilts his chin just enough that Rosie can see his face, can see that he's holding still and not trying to be a brat. 

Rosie touches the side of Harry's face and strokes the hair at his temple. "I shouldn't tell you I love you like this, but I do," he says. "I love when you tease for what you want." Rosie shifts, and his dick slips over Harry's tongue. Harry wraps a hand around Rosie's leg just above his knee and squeezes hard. "You want to suck, don't you? Want to get your mouth nice and sloppy for me?"

Harry opens his eyes, then blinks once. Yes, he's saying. That's exactly what he wants. 

"Well, you wanted to tease, so I'm teasing back," Robert replies. He reaches down and taps Harry's fingers on his cock. Harry takes away his hand. "On my other leg," Robert says, and Harry curls his now-free hand in a mirror of the other one. Robert rocks his hips very gently, just barely moving his cock back and forth over Harry's tongue. "Take your cock out, baby boy," Rosie says, sliding his dick side to side in Harry's mouth. "Jerk yourself off. Just don't suck."

Harry whines, staring at Rosie, but he does as he's told. He takes out his cock and starts to stroke. His lips press hard around Rosie's cock for a moment, then his mouth goes slack, chin hanging down away from Rosie's skin. 

"Almost caught you," Rosie murmurs. "But you stopped yourself. Good boy." 

Harry shivers and the hand still on Rosie's leg tightens again.

"That's right," Rosie says. "You're being very good for being such a brat earlier. Keep it up, and I might let you come first." 

Harry sighs and shifts his head so Rosie's cock rests against his cheek. 

"Oh, you look lovely like that," Rosie says. "So content and needy all at once." 

Harry slides his head back and forth so Rosie's dick slides against his cheek without him sucking. 

"Clever," Rosie murmurs. He lets Harry keep moving, enjoying the slide and the feel of Harry's breath on his fingers when he slides forward and touches his lips to Rosie's hand. "Yes," Rosie says, slipping a little more of his cock into Harry's mouth when Harry's lips touch his hand again. "There you go, baby boy. Take a little more."

Harry opens his mouth wider and shifts again, settles so Rosie's cockhead rubs his soft palate. Rosie curses at the feeling and shakes hard. "Oh, fuck. Fuck." Harry's eyes are open, staring at Rosie with bright challenge. 

Rosie takes his cock out of Harry's mouth and holds it just out of reach of his mouth. "Finish yourself, baby boy."

Harry's hand speeds up. He bites his bottom lip and his hand squeezes Rosie's leg, and he makes tiny, frantic noises in the back of his throat. 

Rosie stares at him, fighting the urge to jerk off onto Harry's lips and neck. He watches Harry's eyes flutter shut, and then Harry's hand drops from his leg and splays on the ground, and he curls over on himself, panting and swearing under his breath again and again until he goes suddenly still. Rosie moans at the curve of his back and the way his entire body relaxes after one, gasped breath. "Beautifully done," he gets out. "Now, suck me off."

Harry tips his head back, licks his lips, and pulls Rosie's hand off his cock. He puts it in his hair, then sucks Rosie down to the root. 

Rosie grunts and grabs hard at Harry's hair. He doesn't lead, just holds on for dear life as Harry sucks and sucks and sucks, sloppy and desperately wet, no finesse but very determined. Rosie presses his hips forward and his head back, back arching at the sheer force of nature that is his beautiful boy fully focused on the task at hand. 

Rosie pumps his hips out of rhythm and scratches his fingernails along the wall, squeezing his eyes shut as he comes so hard he sees spots. For a long moment, he's only aware of the feeling of Harry's hair between his fingers and the sharp sting of air in his lungs as he tries to catch his breath. Then, he feels Harry rubbing his cock dry with a handkerchief before tucking him back into his trousers and doing up his buttons. For a moment, Harry's not touching him, but then he's pressed up warm against Rosie's chest, hands on either side of his ribs and pressing easy, sweet kisses to Rosie's neck. 

"Amazing," Rosie manages. He holds Harry in a loose hug and drags a kiss across his eyebrow. "Was it what you needed?" he asks. 

"Always is," Harry says. "Thanks."

"Oh, it is absolutely my pleasure," Rosie replies, and he smiles when Harry chuckles. 

They hold each other for another few minutes, lethargic from the afterglow. 

"Got a letter from Jean today," Harry murmurs into their shared quiet. "She bought the new bed frame for the guest room. The one she thinks you'll like."

Rosie grins and presses his face to Harry's cheek. "Is that what caused this teasing? You're excited to have me at your place?"

Harry hums agreement and turns so he and Rosie can kiss, easy and carefree and comfortable. "I can picture it already," he says. "You and Jean and me. I really like it."

"Yeah, me, too," Rosie replies. "And Jean makes three." 

Harry grins and cuddles against Rosie, lets him hold him tight. "And Jean makes three," he repeats.

[daysofxavierspast]

Person A: does something so stupid, just so stupid, absolute nonsense

Person B: ah, that is the love of my life

Send me a pairing and I’ll do my best to write something

[roterstern]

[daysofxavierspast]

I LOVE WRITING RAREPAIRS

fanfic writers who write for rare pair ships are treasures and I hope they all know about the impact they have on fandoms. like… they’re the ones bringing these ships to lives, they’re one of the few people who saw the potential between two characters whose dynamics, whether or not they interact in canon, were overlooked by most fans, and they created something beautiful out of these potential dynamics. like??? hello???? that is pure genius.

not to mention how they’re the lifelines for other people who enjoy these ships but didn’t have any fics to consume until these tireless writers spent hours or days or weeks or months or years writing about these characters and their relationships, and just shared the worlds they created with their audiences for free.

or how they singlehandedly introduced the ships to new people who would’ve otherwise never thought about these ships before.

how they could just make people fall in love with the dynamics between characters who have little to no canon screentime together.

how they could just make people fall in love with the dynamics between characters who aren’t lovers in canon, characters who don’t indicate any clear hint of romance in canon.

how they see what most fans don’t and how they create such beautiful worlds for these characters are simply insane.

fanfic writers who write for rare pair ships are treasures.

shoutout to every fanfic writer who writes for rare pair ships.

[peoplegettingreallymadatcards]

Any posts about the UB announcements?

A couple

[effervescentdragon]

I bet it was Jenson Button. He seems like the type to fall for a con :)

Leverage 4x13 - The Girl's Night Out Job