#Charlie is reverent in both though

[detectivelokis]

what form of love does your ship embody?

Thank you to @vampireninjabunnies-blog @inafieldofdaisies and @nightbloodraelle for tagging me to take this for my babies.

Tagging: @sstewyhosseini @baldurrs @jinfromyarikawa @fourlittleseedlings @confidentandgood @marivenah @captastra @direwombat @strangefable @nightwingshero @gwynbleidd @risingsh0t @clicheantagonist @jacobsneed @eclecticwildflowers @roofgeese @euryalex @phillipsgraves @aceghosts @kyber-infinitygems @voidika @shegetsburned @indorilnerevarine @derelictheretic

Charlie x John

love as religion

[love as the sole object of your reverence — nothing about you is holy, but maybe your love for another is] When Sappho said “in the crooks of your body I find my religion” and when the cast of les mis sang “to love another person is to see the face of god” and when Halsey said “I found god, I found him in a lover” and when Katherine Philips wrote “to the dull angry world let’s prove there’s a religion in our love”

Charlie x Rafe

love as being known

[ love is knowing all of someone and loving them anyway ] when tim kreider said "if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known" and when joe wright said "The idea that these two people know each other, knew each other when they first saw each other. That they recognized each other from their future" and when micah nemerever said "it was a relief and a horror to be known so perfectly"

Annie x Jacob

love as tenderness

[ love as gentleness after a lifetime of cruelty ] when ocean vuong said "sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined" and when pablo neruda said "like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar" and when anais mitchell wrote "all i've ever known is how to hold my own, and now i wanna hold you, too"

[voxslays]

Caught Red-Handed

Featuring: (Husk, Alastor, & Velvette) I might make a part two with more characters, so tell me which ones you want in the comments. <3

☆ Husk ☆ You and Husk were dating long before Charlie hired you at her redemption hotel. Husk was the one in charge of the bar and you were the one in charge of the entertainment. Although Husk is grumpy, rude, sarcastic and serious, secretly with you he was a little sweeter even though he didn't like to accept it.

Today your shifts were over early and you were both resting in your room, lying on the bed, the husk's face hidden in your shoulder as he purred, his hands loosely on your waist and his tail tangled around your leg, his large, reddish wings relaxed against his back. "Hmm..." he purred as he tightened his grip, although he didn't want to admit it in words, his touch said it all. His purring grows louder as he nuzzles deeper into your shoulder, his tail giving a gentle squeeze around your leg. “You're so warm... and cozy...” He mumbles sleepily, his voice barely audible. “Love you...” He whispers, his words a soft breeze against your skin.

Just then, Angel walks in without a care in the world, being a nuisance as usual. ​​Husk's ears perk up at the sound of the door opening, and he lifts his head to glare at Angel. "What do you want?" He growls, his tail tightening possessively around your leg. "Can't you see we're busy?" Angel muttered a quick ‘sorry…!’ before quickly walking out of the room and closing the door. 

Husk let out a satisfied grunt at Angel’s hasty retreat, then nuzzled back into your shoulder. “Sorry...I didn't mean to scare him off.” He mumbled, his tail relaxing around your leg. "Good thing, otherwise he'd see us like this..." You roll your eyes. “It's not like we were doing anything.” Husk huffed, his tail flicking slightly. "Maybe not... but I don't want anyone seeing you all...cuddly...and...soft." He trailed off, his ears twitching with a hint of embarrassment. "It's... private." You sigh. “I suppose you're right.” Husk let out a happy sigh, his purring growing louder as he relaxed in your arms. His wings twitched slightly against his back, before settling once more. He nuzzled deeper into your face, his hands still loosely on your waist.

☆ Alastor ☆

Alastor emerges from the shadows, a hand grasping his chest. he swiftly takes off his coat and throws it on a nearby arm chair. he falls onto the chair soon behind it letting out a groan. he had a large gash across his chest. he had been hiding his injury from the others as to not worry them, or to appear vulnerable in any way, but today it had been particularly hard to maintain his composure. Being just in the room next to him you heard this and being concerned you opened the door to his room. “Alastor!?” You ask, seeing his stab wound.

Alastor's head snaps to the door as you enter. His face contorts into a harsh expression, a clear sign for you to leave. "Out," he growls, voice low and dangerous. But then he hesitates, seeing the concern on your face. You step closer. “Please let me help you.” You say, in almost a whisper. His face softens a little at your words. He looks away from you and back to the floor. He sighs “I’m fine, just a scratch.” He sits up straight, wincing. He looks at you again, “You know I don’t like showing weakness.” He grumbles. “You can with me. I won’t judge.” You say, reassuringly. 

You quickly grab the first aid kit and bring out the necessary supplies. You quickly bandage Alastor up, making sure he doesn't bleed to death. He winces as you gently clean and dress the wound. He watches your hands work, his expression softening further. “Thank you” He looks back up at you as you finish. His face contorts slightly as he reaches out for you pulling you into his lap.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. He buries his face in your neck, his hot breath fanning out against your skin. "You're the only one who cares enough to help me," He murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure that's not true.” You say quietly. He pulls back slightly, his gaze searching yours. "It is," he insists, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Everyone else fears me. But you...you see through all that, don't you?" His expression turns vulnerable, a rare sight for him. “I do.” You say.

He searches your face for a moment longer, as if trying to discern whether you're telling the truth. Finding only sincerity in your gaze, he relaxes, pulling you close again. His hand drifts down to your thigh, squeezing gently. "Stay with me tonight? Please?" Just then, Charlie comes running in, gasping for air. Once she catches her breath she speaks. “Are you two okay!?” She asks worriedly. 

He tenses, his arms tightening around you protectively. His expression darkens, and for a moment, you fear he might snap at Charlie. But then he takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing. "We're fine, Charlie, my dear." He says gruffly, his voice barely concealing his frustration. “Alright. I’m going to check on the others then.” She turns around, leaves the radio booth, and closes the door. Alastor watches Charlie leave, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then he turns back to you, his hand still resting on your thigh. "Where were we?" he murmurs, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

☆ Velvette ☆

You had just gotten back from a trip to Paris, through an Asmodean crystal you had gotten as a gift from Velvette, you barge into her office excitedly. “Guess who just got back from Paris!” You squeal in excitement. Velvette raises an eyebrow, her lipstick-perfect lips curling into a smirk. “And let me guess, you brought back a ton of overpriced scarves and those disgustingly priced macaroons everyone raves about?” she asks, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“Nope.” You say as you smirk, your hands behind your back. Velvette's face falls slightly, surprised. "Nope?” she repeats, her hand finding her hip. "So, you're telling me you went to Paris and didn't bring back any pastries?" She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What did you bring back then?" She asks suspiciously. 

“I know as the fashion and social media overlord you barely have any time to design fashion anymore...but I brought you the next best thing!” You say as you take a pile of french fashion magazines that you were holding behind you and place them on her desk. “Ta-da~!” Velvette's eyes widen as she takes in the stack of magazines. "You brought me... fashion magazines?" she asks, her voice dripping with disbelief. She picks up one of the magazines, flipping through it dismissively. "I can get these myself, you know." You smirk. “Not from Paris you can’t.”

Velvette's hands still on the magazines, her long, perfectly manicured nails tapping against the glossy covers. "And what makes these Parisian fashion magazines so special, hmm?" she asks, her gaze flicking up to meet yours. "Are they infused with some sort of magical French charm?" You nod. “Exactly!” Velvette rolls her eyes, but can't help the small smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth. "You're ridiculous," she says, her tone softening slightly. "But... thank you." She picks up one of the magazines and tucks it under her arm.

“Aww girlie of course!” Velvette shoots you a pointed look. "Don't make a big deal out of it," she says sharply. "I'm only accepting this because it's from you." She begins to walk back to her sketchbook, then pauses. "And... maybe because it is from Paris." She whispers. “You know you love me.” You say, a smile still on your face. Velvette's expression softens, and she can't help but smile. "Yeah, yeah," she says, her voice laced with affection. She sits down at her desk, opening the magazine and beginning to flip through it, her mind already filled with new design ideas.

Velvette leans back in her chair, pulls your face close, and kisses you. Before you could deepen the kiss, Valentino walks in. Velvette pulls away from the kiss, her eyes widening slightly as she sees Valentino standing in the doorway. "Valentino," she says, her voice cool and collected. "What are you doing here? Get out!"  She stands up, smoothing out her dress as she does so. Valentino's eyes dart between you and Velvette, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I could ask you the same thing," he says, his voice laced with innuendo. "Or should I say, 'what were you doing'?" 

Velvette pushes him out of her office and slams the door in his face. “That was a close one. That prick almost caught us.” She says, clearly irritated. “Yeah…but he didn't.” You smirk as she pulls you into another kiss.

Part Two >>>

[dewdropdinosaur]

I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

ALASTOR x (F) READER Summary: You are Charlie's older sister and the pristine image of what a princess of Hell should be. But sometimes even perfect pretty princesses have their secrets. Warnings: NONE This was a request from the lovely @fandomfan-102 REQUESTS OPEN

In the heart of Hell, amidst the chaotic streets and vibrant nightlife, stood the Hazbin Hotel, a haven for lost souls seeking redemption. Among its eccentric inhabitants was Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, a charismatic figure whose mere presence commanded attention. Furthermore,  Y/N Morningstar, the older sister of Charlie, the hotel's founder; too commanded the room with her devilish charm and royal style. 

Unlike her sister, Y/N was a bit more of what people expected from a princess of Hell. Though by no means was she sadistic or remotely close to some demon’s level, she was not as bubbly or optimistic as her sister. More cunning, reserved, and always dressed to impress; Y/N held power unknown and one that could possibly even rival her father. 

Fortunately or unfortunately depending on who you ask, Y/N often found herself drawn to the enigmatic Alastor. Their love, a delicate dance hidden from prying eyes, grew stronger with each stolen moment amidst the cacophony of Hell's chaos. Stolen kisses, lying about laying one's head on the other's shoulder. Whispers of sweet nothings in the back of hallways and sly hand holds.

At first, to the average outsider, Alastor might have been using Y/N for power or station but truly as time wore on; he grew to love her in his own way. Yes, their relationship was not like most but despite their differences, a deep connection had blossomed between them, eventually culminating in a secret engagement under the light of the red moon as Alastor presented Y/N with a heartfelt declaration and a ring. 

As fate would have it, soon news spread like wildfire through the corridors of the hotel that Lucifer himself would grace them with his presence. Panic swept through the inhabitants, each scrambling to prepare for the arrival of the feared and revered ruler of Hell. As rumors spread of Lucifer Morningstar's imminent visit to the hotel, tension crackled in the air. Lucifer, the Lord of Hell himself, was rarely seen outside his domain, and his presence promised both excitement and trepidation.

Y/N and Alastor found themselves in a particularly precarious position. While their love burned bright, Lucifer's presence threatened to expose their secret engagement. Yet, they dared to hope that their careful charade would remain intact. On the eve of Lucifer's arrival, Alastor and Y/N found solace in each other's company, stealing fleeting moments of affection amidst the chaos. Little did Y/N know that the carefully guarded secret was about to be thrust into the spotlight by none other than Alastor himself. 

On the fateful day of Lucifer's visit, tension hung so thick in the air a cannibal could have taken a bite out of it.. The inhabitants of the hotel stood on edge, awaiting the arrival of their sovereign. As the grand doors swung open, revealing the imposing figure of Lucifer, the room fell into a hushed silence. As Lucifer's shorter but nonetheless dominating figure materialized in the hotel's grand foyer, all eyes turned to him. Charlie greeted her father with nervous excitement, eager to showcase the progress of her ambitious project.

Alastor, ever the charismatic showman, stepped forward to greet the Dark Lord, a charming smile playing upon his lips. Power plays were always Alastor speciality. 

"Ah pleasure to meet you sir, quite a pleasure. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. Though I must say,  you are much shorter in real life." Alastor declared with a flourish. 

With an annoyed look, Lucifer replied “Who is this? Who is this man? Are you the bellhop?” 

"Ah no. I am the host of the hotel. You might have heard of me from my radio broadcast. Or from my fiance Y/N."

If the floor could have dropped beneath Y/N, it would have. The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating the room with stunned silence. All eyes turned to Y/N, whose cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment and whose eyes glared at her lover. Charlie's jaw dropped in disbelief, her eyes darting between her sister and the Radio Demon.

Gritting her teeth, Y/N whispered “Alastor…what in the devil are you doing?”

Lucifer's expression remained inscrutable as he regarded Alastor with a raised eyebrow. "Is that so?" he mused, his voice dripping with disdain. "Well, well, it seems my daughter has been keeping secrets from me." 

Charlie's jaw dropped in shock, her mind struggling to process the unexpected revelation. She shot a bewildered glance at her sister, who could only offer a sheepish shrug in response.

The spirited founder of the Hazbin Hotel stood frozen in disbelief, her eyes widening in shock at the bombshell dropped by Alastor. She blinked rapidly, struggling to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

"Wait, what?" Charlie stammered, her voice laced with incredulity. "Y/N, you're engaged to...Alastor?"

Husk, the cynical bartender with a penchant for chronic alcoholism, arched an eyebrow at the revelation, his expression a mixture of skepticism and mild amusement.

"Well, I'll be damned," Husk remarked dryly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Guess Hell just froze over." His boss did really have it in him.

Angel Dust, the flamboyant and irreverent resident of the Hazbin Hotel, let out a raucous laugh at the surprising news, clapping his hands together with glee.

"Hot damn, talk about a plot twist!" Angel exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Looks like we've got ourselves a real-life soap opera unfolding right here!"

Despite the initial shock, the atmosphere soon shifted, morphing into a cacophony of laughter and chatter as Lucifer not so graciously accepted the news of his daughter's engagement. After several threats towards the Radio Demon, the King of Hell reluctantly relented though he did stay close to his oldest daughter’s side the rest of his visit. 

Alastor and Y/N found themselves enveloped in a whirlwind of congratulations and well-wishes from their surprised friends and colleagues.

As the night wore on, amidst the revelry and celebration, Alastor and Y/N stole a quiet moment alone, their hands intertwined as they basked in the warmth of their newfound truth. Despite the unexpected turn of events, they knew that their love would endure, for in the heart of Hell, where chaos reigned supreme, their bond remained unbreakable. Though Y/N did get payback at Alastor for his little stunt. You can imagine how that went over my dear reader. 

[am-i-interrupting]

Hello! I really love your work, I just HAD to pop in your inbox after seeing your fics about Alastor's daughter.

What if Alastor's daughter is an angel that is scared of demons.

Like, when they were alive, Alastor's daughter used to be such a sweet child and I mean SWEET. Would never hurt a soul. Though she got killed at a young age because of envious children her age, left her in the forest to scare her but she got mauled by wolves and died.

Before she died, she was aware of Alastor's killings but she wouldn't speak up because she was too scared. IMAGINE ALASTOR BEING SUCH A LOVING DAD BUT ALL SHE CAN THINK ABOUT IS WHAT IF SHES NEXT IF SHE FUCKS UP AROUND HIM.

And he's not aware that she thinks that way. So when Sera sent her to investigate the Hazbin Hotel (to see if Charlie's theory is really true) she sees Alastor and gets tense even though he's so sincere around her.

How would everything gooo omg I'd like to see how creative you'll get!!

.

You never hurt a soul and that’s what helped you get into heaven.

You loved your father. You did but you were also terrified of him.

He was a serial killer, a murderer, and even if he tucked you into bed at night and made the best food, you could still be next.

You felt guilty the day he died because while you were heartbroken you were also so relieved.

You confessed to the police his sins as soon as they came to the house to break the news of his death.

You were crying, choking on tears as you told them everything.

It was the best and worst day of your life.

Despite that, life remained difficult for you.

People were cruel and mean and heartless and you died before the age of twenty.

You made it to Heaven.

You were a top winner, one revered for their kindness.

That’s how you got asked by Sera to go to Hell to observe Charlie’s idea first hand. Her being too untrusting of the angels to not start killing and “sanitizing” Hell as soon as they got there.

You were excited. You met Charlie while she was in Heaven.

She was somewhat of a kindred spirit. You got on with her well.

(Alastor actually does reminisce over you and his mother both in Hell. The lyric “You’re like a child that I wish that I had” in Hells Greatest Dad would have been changed to “You’re like the child which I used to have.”)

You went through the portal with her and Vaggie.

Both girls seemed conflicted, something must have happened during the meeting they had with the angels but Charlie quickly put on a smile and started explaining what everything was.

When you get to the Hotel, you seem him. You never thought you’d see your father again. You weren’t sure you wanted to even if you missed him. You immediately froze.

His brows furrowed as he looked at you before his smile widened, sharp teeth replacing the human ones you once knew but they were still coffee-stained.

“Is that my darling angel?” he asked as he walked towards you. “My dear, look how you’ve grown.”

He used the tips of his fingers to angle your face towards him and you couldn’t pull away. You were frozen in place, looking at him with wide eyes.

“You two know each other?” Charlie asked.

“Why yes, we do indeed,” Alastor said. “You recall I mentioned having a child.”

“Oh my god! Oops, sorry. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all. But this is so great!”

“Yeah,” you said meekly. “So great.”

Alastor would notice something wrong. He remembers your behaviors well. He’d try to make you comfortable while unknowingly pressing your buttons more.

Everyone else also notices something wrong, except Niffty.

Sir Pentious and Charlie likely think you’re just anxious and try to make you feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible.

Vaggie assumes it’s because you’re in Hell.

Husk and Angel realize it’s because Alastor’s there.

The two team up to make sure you’re never ever left completely alone.

They even manage to pull you away for a bit.

Husk offers some good advice and true silence not filled with the background of a radio crackling.

Angel let’s you bury your head in his fluff.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Hello hi- back to my shenanigans again (the one with the fake dating + lobby portal + frozen half the pentagram surely not an OC ahahah anonymous asker) - anyway- heres some MORE angst.

Reader's past lover- died waaay before reader back in their teens because readers mother found out about their not so heterosexual relationship and decided to shoot them both but only killed one- reader escaping and killing her mom in return (let’s name her Charlotte- with mane wolf features- so wolf+fox+deer features a combination! ) and barely moved on after meeting Alastor like years later, yet still haunted by Charlottes dead eyes reader saw when she woke up from some sleepy poison. Now Charlotte is in heaven and reader in hell alongside their radio-lover lover!

Yet somehow- maybe though a very uncanonical accurate meeting where angels go down to see the new hotel after hearing sinners can get redeemed Charlotte (not to be confused with Charlie) is one of said angels and suddenly all those waves of emotions come rushing back and reader can do nothing but stare.

but oh wait! Angels/Winner dont remember their past life so reader goes to her- and shes just “Oh hello! Whats your name? :3” (shes an angel and loves the stars and plants and everything nice can do no wrong) “I-… I guess you dont know me in this lifetime” (AND DOESNT TELL HER THEYVE MET BEFORE because what good would that bring?)

But alastor is also there lurking in the back. watching them- he knew someone was in readers life before him but reader never said more than that. Will readers feelings for Charlotte come back? Will reader stay to the infatuation of murderous acts that Alastor bought them? Will reader choose the pure love that might not spring again?

The infamous blizzard demon overlord! that never dropped their mask around others that always seemed to have the upper hand in any situation, the cold- charismatic- brutal and ruthless overlord- suddenly speechless at the reappearance of someone they used to know. How will everyone react?! “Sweet as a pea, but sharp as a knife- now shocked like the stars have fallen”

GAAAH MY BRAIN IS TOO BIG ANF FULL OF ANGST!!!!! Heres some kisses too: maybe next fic its me x you pookie 😘😘🥰🥰😘😘😘😘

A/N What a wild way to close off a request, I honestly got so much respect for that. I don't do OCs but for the sign off comment, I'll make an exception. Also I am assuming you want this as a part two to Frostbite because she's still a blizzard demon?? Apologies in advance if I got that wrong. Also,, not you quoting something else I've written in your request. That's crazy, thank you so much for the love.

Day Lilies (Alastor x Blizzard demon!Reader x Angel!OC)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Part One: Frostbite (Alastor x Reader)

Warnings: Homophobia (from other people and internalized) and murder. Smoking/cigarettes and angst. Always angst. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 2,969

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

The best thing about the Hazbin Hotel, according to some, was the fact that not one but two overlords who had found a home there. The Radio Demon and the Frost. Feared, revered, respected, and making an appearance for the first time in seven long years.

Without Alastor and Y/n's help, Charlie would not have been able to achieve all she had and she was eternally grateful to the pair, even if they were a tad confrontational and violent at times. Deeply in love, indebted to one another in a billion and five different ways, Alastor and Y/n had worked hard for their life in the underworld. As the angel stepped gently out of the portal, following her superior, Y/n felt the pressure of that life as it began to crash down around her.

When Charlie had struck the deal with Heaven to have an angel come down to the hotel to track its progress and assess if any of its inhabitants were worthy of redemption, Y/n had thought nothing of it. Sure, it was a bit irritating but if anything, the deal seemed ripe for entertainment and thats really all she and Alastor were after at the end of the day. She had figured the angel would be some low ranking nobody. She had thought it would be amusing, that they would torture the poor creature, that things would stay roughly the same. Never in her wildest dreams had the notion ever crossed Y/n's mind that the angel might be Charlotte.

Of course, Y/n had known Charlotte must be in Heaven. The girl had always been so kind, so good to her very core. It had just all seemed so far away and now, somehow, there she was, peeking timidly out from behind the seraphim's back.

Charlotte looked different, having taken on some animalistic, wolfish features since her death. Sharp ears sprouted from the untamed mess of her hair, fangs peeked their way out from the corners of her lips but Y/n was sure. It was Charlotte. It was all in the eyes.

"Welcome, Sera." Charlie politely began, taking a step forward.

Normally, such a show of self restraint from the young demon princess would have caused curiosity to spark a fire in Y/n's chest. Now, she just stood beside Angel as Charlie had requested, eyes wide and mind reeling.

"Is this who we will be working with?"

Sera looked at the shy wolf of a girl behind her and nodded her head, gesturing for the girl to step forward.

"Yes." she replied, her voice cold and haughty, "This is Charlotte, she has been with us for a while and we trust her judgment on matters such as this."

"Oh how funny!" Charlie brightly exclaimed, "My full name is Charlotte too but, I go by Charlie. Do you have a nickname you'd prefer?"

"Just Charlotte is fine." the angel softly replied and Y/n's breath caught in her throat.

The girls voice was honeysuckle, it was sticky sweet teen love.

"Why her?" Husk asked and Charlie shot him a glare, "She just seems a little..."

Sera laughed lightly, a caring smile sneaking on to her face.

"She's a little shy, but she is smart. Even when she was alive, she had an ability to read people, to see right through to the essence of their beings."

Charlotte blushed slightly at the compliment, turning away.

The southern sun beat down over head, long grass whipping at their legs as Charlotte, running, dragged Y/n to the center of the field.

"Lottie!" Y/n exclaimed, half laughing, "Where on earth are you taking me?"

Charlotte glanced back at her companion, a mischievous smirk painting her lips that sent bolts of red hot fire through to Y/n's fingertips.

"You'll see."

After a few more paces, they came to a panting halt. Charlotte turned to Y/n, placing a hand gently over the other girl's eyes. With a guiding hand, she lead the blinded girl to a spot a little ways off where she had snuck off to earlier and set up a picnic. There was fresh fruit, Georgia peaches from her family's own orchard, and home made lemonade. Slowly, Charlotte gifted Y/n with sight.

Y/n's mouth fell slightly open as she surveyed the scene before her. Sixteen and in love, she turned to Charlotte, taking both the girl's hands in her own.

"When... how..."

"I know things have been rough at home lately. I wanted to do something to make you smile."

"How did you know? I never..." Y/n cleared her throat, "I never said anything... I nev-"

"You didn't have to. I know you, love. You never have to say a word."

Alastor watched his lover silently from the other side of the group. Charlie had insisted they flank the guests, dragging Y/n away from his side just as the portal had opened. She didn't show it, not obviously, but he knew something was wrong. From the second the portal had opened and the angels had stepped through, she had gone tense, her eyes fixed on the one called Charlotte, the tips of her frostbite blackened fingers tapped against one another in wild thought.

"Well," Sera sighed, looking around at the ragtag group of sinners and demons, "I had best be on my way. I will be back in a few days to pick Charlotte up, please be kind to her over the course of her stay."

With those parting words and a reassuring pat on the angel's shoulder, Sera stepped back through the portal which closed behind her.

"Well," Charlie began brightly, clapping her hands together, "let's do introductions! I am Charlie Morningstar and I run the Hazbin Hotel with my girlfriend, Vaggie."

Vaggie sent Charlotte a wave which she timidly returned. With a deep breath, Charlotte stepped towards the line of sinners before her.

"Alastor." Alastor hummed, grabbing Charlottes hand and shaking it harshly, "A pleasure to be meeting you my dear, quite the pleasure."

It struck Charlie as a bit odd he said and did nothing else but, she made no mention of it. In her mind, Alastor was simply on his best behavior as requested. In reality, he was far too focused on the way a slight flurry of snow had begun to settle on Y/n's sharp shoulders.

"Nice to meet you too." Charlotte replied, extracting her hand from his grip and moving down the line.

Y/n's heart pounded wildly against her chest as Charlotte grew closer. Her tail twitched behind her, flicking back and forth gently, and her breaths grew slightly heavy. Although he noticed the odd behavior, it was impossible not to from his place beside her, Angel said nothing. At long last, Charlotte came to a stop before her.

"Disgusting!" Y/n's mother's voice rang out through the yard, "You are both complete and utter disgraces!"

They hadn't meant to be found out. As far as Y/n's mother had known, Y/n and Charlotte were best friends. Charlotte had come over to help Y/n with her chores, they had been doing laundry out in the yard when Charlotte had playfully flicked water towards her beloved. One thing had lead to another and before long, they had been wrapped up in one another, planting a singular, soft kiss on each other's lips. Y/n felt Charlotte's hand tighten around her own, she took a step forward.

"Don't you dare speak to her that way!" Y/n yelled back, anger burning brightly in her eyes and adrenaline shaking her limbs with wild courage, "Don't you dare!"

Her mother scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She is a bad influence on you! The devil sent to curse me!"

Y/n's mother stepped forward, grabbing Y/n and wrenching her from Charlotte's grip. Charlotte tugged at Y/n's mother's dress as she dragged her girlfriend harshly into the small house.

"Let her go!" Charlotte cried, "Stop it! We weren't doing anything wrong!"

With a harsh slap to her face, Charlotte was sent to the ground. Her mother threw Y/n through the door, the unfinished wood of the floor sending splinters deep into Y/n's knees as she struggled to get to her feet. Her head had hit the corner of the table in her fall, the world was spinning. Y/n's mother grabbed the shot gun from where it lay beside the door. Just as Y/n managed to stumble to her feet, holding her swaying body up with a hand on the table she had hit, her mother stepped outside and slammed the door behind her, locking it.

Y/n rushed over, trying desperately to wrench it open to no avail. The anger had turned to panic as she heard her mother cock the gun.

"What are you doing!" she heard Charlotte yell and Y/n rushed to the window.

From her vantage point, Y/n watched her mother train the gun on Charlotte who had her hands raised and was stumbling backwards.

"Run!" she yelled, banging her fists on the glass, "Lottie, run!"

"Please." Charlotte was pleading, tears wetting her cheeks, "I promise I wont ever come here again, I wont ever come near her again. Please!"

"Lottie!" Y/n yelled again.

With no regard for her own safety, Y/n punched the glass of the window. The pane shattered around her hand, puncturing her soft skin. Blood, hot and wet, ran down her arm as she pulled her hand back to her side.

"Yeah, you sure as hell wont!" Y/n's mother yelled, her voice thick and low with rage, "You'll be dead!"

Y/n flung her leg over the window sill, shards of glass digging into her as she pulled herself through the hole she had created.

"Lottie!" she yelled again, "Run!"

Her screams were drowned out by the sound of a gunshot. Charlotte held her hands to her stomach, blood pouring from between her fingers. Their eyes met.

"Lottie!"

"And you are?" Charlotte asked expectently.

Y/n shook her head slightly, pulling herself from the depths of her memories. Everyone was staring at her, she had no idea how long the angel had been standing before her. She cleared her throat.

Alastor didn't know what was going on but, whatever it was, he knew he didn't like it. Using his shadows, he appeared behind Y/n and placed a protective hand on the top of her head between her horns. Her hair was damp from freshly fallen snow and Charlotte gasped slightly in surprise at his appearance.

"My dear," he grinned, leaning down to Y/n's ear, "you're snowing."

"I..."

Y/n looked up, her cheeks flushing pink and the heart on the tip of her tail puffing up as she realized what he said.

"O-oh." she stuttered, brushing his hand from her head and the snow from her shoulders as she regained control of her powers again, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

The other members of the hotel watched in a mixture of shock and confusion. They had always known Y/n to be cold, to be harsh. They had always seen her devotion to the man behind her as infallible. No one had any idea what was going on but, the presence of the angel stopped them all in their tracks.

"It's quite all right, what's your name?" Charlotte asked again, her voice honey sweet.

Y/n took a deep breath, morphing her features into the closest thing to a kind smile she could muster.

"Y/n." she firmly replied, "I'm Y/n."

Her eyes scanned Charlotte's face intently as their hands made contact. She waited for the shock of recognition, for the tears her Lottie had always been so prone to. There was nothing.

"That's a very pretty name." Charlotte replied, "It sounds like it is from the same era as mine."

That raised some small hope in Y/n's chest. She took a step forward, bringing herself closer to the angel.

"Which is?"

"Oh, I don't know." Charlotte replied, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment, "Angels don't get to remember their lives on earth unless they are pretty high in the ranks. I've been told I was from Georgia though, that I died in the early 1900s."

Y/n froze, her breath trapped in her chest, a knife buried deep within her heart.

"Oh." she mumbled out in a broken whisper, "I guess you... you don't know me in this lifetime."

"What was that?" Charlotte asked, leaning in a bit.

Y/n shook her head, letting go of Charlotte's hand.

"Nothing. I... I need some fresh air, I think. If you would all excuse me."

It didn't take Alastor long to find Y/n once Charlie had let him return to his duties in favor of showing Charlotte around the hotel. She stood out in back of the hotel, her back pressed firmly against the wall and a cigarette crushed between her fingers. Shakily, she took a drag.

"What was that about?" Alastor asked, leaning up against the wall beside her and folding his arms across his chest.

"What was what about." Y/n cooly replied.

"Y/n, don't play dumb."

"I knew her back when we were alive, thats all."

"Is that all?" Alastor asked after a moment, "You seemed..."

He trailed off. Alastor was angry. He had always been the jealous type, protective to a fault. He could see how shaken up Y/n was however and so, running a finger over the ring he wore, Alastor took a deep breath.

"That angel, Charlotte..." her name lingered poisonously on his tongue, "it seemed there was something a lot more than just you knowing her."

"I picked these for you." Y/n bashfully stated, shoving a bouquet tied with a rough bit of twine towards the pretty girl beside her, "Here."

Tentatively, Charlotte took the bouquet from Y/n's hand. She held it gently, watching the way the breeze played with the petals.

"Georgia asters?" Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, "And yarrow?"

"My momma didn't used to be poor. She grew up in a rich family, gave it up when she married my dad. Her momma taught her floriography." Y/n's words came out in a big rush, they chased after one another in a breathless flurry of nerves, "It was big in the victorian era for fancy people, all about talking through flowers. She taught me asters symbolized wisdom, faith, and valor and that yarrow was for healing and... and love... besides, I know you like them. You're always staring at them when were out."

Charlotte looked over at Y/n who's cheeks were bright red. She smiled, her eyes shining.

"I love you too." she said, nudging Y/n gently with her elbow.

"Yeah, but..." Y/n sighed, running a hand through her messy hair, "I... god, Lottie! I don't just love you like a sister. Its... I understand if you don't wanna talk to me anymore I just couldn't... I couldn't keep it in anymore."

Y/n looked away, tears pressing hotly at the backs of her eyes. Charlotte's eyes went wide.

"I understand... I won't be mad... I just... I'll leave."

Charlotte's hand shot out, grabbing Y/n's wrist as she pushed herself from the fence they were leaning against. Slowly, Y/n turned to face her. Charlotte was blushing now too and looked away, still holding Y/n tightly.

"I don't..." she took a deep breath, "I don't love you like a sister either."

"It's wrong... it's so wrong... what would my mother say... what would your mother say, I-"

Charlotte cut Y/n off, standing on her toes to press a soft kiss to the slightly taller girl's lips. It was clumsy and foreign. Y/n trembled, her eyes fluttered shut.

"I don't care." Charlotte said, "I don't care."

"Yeah." Y/n sighed, taking a final drag from her cigarette before stamping it out beneath her heel, "Yeah."

"Do I have anything to worry about?" Alastor asked and Y/n's eyes met his.

He had known her long enough, he could see the conflict.

"She was my first love, Al." Y/n admitted, "We were girls together."

"You're my wife."

"It's different."

"Do I have anything to worry about?" Alastor asked again and Y/n looked back out at the sky.

"She doesn't remember me."

"But you remember her."

"But I remember her." Y/n confirmed, her voice cracking, "I couldn't forget if I tried. She haunts me, Al. She has always haunted me, since long before I even met you. Lottie died in my arms, Al. My mother killed her, shot her right in the stomach. I...."

Y/n trailed off into silence. It was more about her life before she had met him than she had ever revealed before. Alastor took a deep breath, conflicting emotions battling behind his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?"

He was trying to keep his cool, to save face. He was failing, anger and a secret fear ate away at the edges of his words.

"Day lilies."

"Day lilies?" Alastor repeated and Y/n nodded, meeting his eyes once again.

"A floriography thing again?"

Alastor knew of Y/n's interest in the symbolic properties of plants. It was one of the only things she ever spoke about concerning her mother and her shadowed past before that night in Mimzy's bar.

"Yes."

"What do they mean?" Alastor sighed, resigning himself to his fate because god, if Alastor knew anything he knew his fate was Y/n. She held his heart in the palms of her hands.

"Love for lovers. Love for mothers..."

"And?"

His heart pounded against his chest.

"And loss of memory."

----

TAGS:

the ones in red are ones I am not sure worked/having trouble linking.

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007

[lesbiansforboromir]

(RoP ep 5 spoilers)

I was rlly down on rop after episode 4 w/ the flagrant racism and what felt like a real dip in writing quality after the first 3 eps - both the Rhûn and Southlander survivors plots could have been done so much better, Bombadil & Barrow Wights go back to the shadow pls...

But I just watched ep 5 & we're so back!!! Love the delicious deepening poison of the Eregion plot, the web that Celebrimbor has been spun in; every scene in Numenor pulling no punches, + 'our armies cannot defeat both Adar & Sauron. Not alone' 👀

Khazad Dum developing fascinatingly as always, the web beginning to be woven around Young Durin as well (though I miss that spark of threatening ambition from Disa in the 1st season)

And these little teases of Adar & Galadriel have built up the anticipation for that plot to come in the next eps so well, Sam Hazeldine killing it!!

Will be gutted not to see Alex Tarrant again. King 😔✌🏼

Did you have any thoughts? Always enjoy your insightful takes.

Sorry this took so long to reply too I've been enduring diverse horrors but yes! I experienced the last two episodes very similarly, ep 4 was extremely disappointing just for the genuinely shocking orientalism present and whilst it had some good scenes (really enjoyed the elaboration of Isildur's history with his mother and Theo identifying with it so viscerally, the ents were beautifully voice-acted and designed and, of course, big worm) in the majority it was just all the most superfulous plotlines in this show that really have no business being in this story bundled into one episode and none of them even justified themselves by being... good.

And again, cannot express enough how bad Tom's so called 'cornish accent' was, kind of compounding the show's clearly very unexamined and dismissive attitude towards culture, accents, ethnicities and employing any of them with skill or respect.

But with that in mind I wasn't very surprised that the next episode was just better to watch, it had all the plot-relevant plotlines in it 😂 AND was just in general better television. Like I've said this before, but they've clearly worked on and better'd their understanding of 'tolkienian dialogue' for this season, I'm fully convinced by every scene and especially Miriel and Elendil's dialogue, 'when the wolves are licking at the cradle' felt particularly good to me.

And!! Full commitment to the religious conflict! Like I know people will moan and gripe that Tolkien SAID Eru wasn't worshipped but I think he meant that in a completely different way to what most people think it means. Like the Meneltarma exists, the holidays for thanksgiving to Eru exist, hereticism exists and Numenor's story is one of religious oppression, resentment and rebellion. It is a no-brainer to make that clear to the audience through reverence, shrines and prayer. I was particularly won over by the use of 'Nasie' in the shrine desicration scene, which is the quenya version of 'Amen' from Tolkien's quenya translation of the Lord's Prayer (nerd).

I'm also genuinely enjoying the Eregion plotline! Which I did not expect. I think just purely for the acting actually, like it's not groundbreaking to say that Charles Edwards is a brilliant actor but still! It's worth mentioning! He's portraying Celebrimbor in this poignantly empathetic way, not flinching from the frailties but in a way that keeps me with him emotionally 100% of the time.

And I'm enjoying Charlie Vickers offering us, the audience, a clear understanding of exactly the tools he's using to try and manipulate the people around him whilst maintaining the idea that those tactics would work. I also like that there's an effort to make Celebrimbor appear as competent as he's supposed to be this season, even though it doesn't really make up for how little the forging of the elven rings was about him initially.

And in this episode I was REALLY taken with the scene where Mirdania puts on one of the rings, there was a gentleness to the way he found her hand to pull it off and a sort of immediate comprehension of the situation that made me go hell yeah! Thats a lord of elves! Thats a masterful person! Thats someone who is gentle at heart!

Everytime the balrog comes up I'm a little annoyed and concerned, I really do not want to see the destruction of Khazad-dum in the second age, but other than that the dwarf plot line also indeed continues to be excellent. I have lesbian blinkers on about Disa so it's hard to be unbiased, but god the WAY the relationship between the two Durins is progressing... UNBEARABLY heartbreaking, they are putting in work to make this complex and to preserve both characters as ultimately good and to keep the slow disaster inevitable anyway. My personal brand of narrative agony writ large. And! Really appreciated that they had Durin tell Celebrimbor that greed was never a part of his father's personality until the ring's influence, a small thing that helps nod to the larger antisemitism issue.

HOWEVER! Having said all that, the episode was more emotionally polarising for me than solely good.

Firstly, whilst I am enjoying Narvi's characterisation, I was enjoying it mainly because in every scene with him I was like 'wow! I love this guy, he's quiet and thoughtful and a little awkward but also knows his stuff, he and Celebrimbor will get along so well! can't wait to see their friendship progress! ����' And then... the doors of durin were already made and Celebrimbor made a joke about Narvi being a thief? And that's the last we saw of them together 😅 Like it really felt like a check box for the writers, and is one of these mirriad of little moments where you're immediately thinking about how much time the harfoot/gandalf plotline is taking up in this very time-constrained show and wish SO much that it could be used for THESE kinds of relational developments. And I mean I know ultimately Narvi and Celebrimbor's relationship is not important for the overall plotline of the show either, and it's not a crime to focus on the characters they're using to drive the story along, but it's still disappointing and sad to see it so relegated to the sideline.

AND THEN god, the scene with Pharazon and Kemen. Like I already feel so blindsided about how fast Pharazon became king, and with the use of the Eagle too. Like I appreciate the idea that Numenor's relationship to the west is complicated and that the eagle still holds weight when elves don't, ultimately like... the Eagle came to Miriel's coronation! The fact that this was apparently such a political blow to her that there was no rebuttal she could make seems a bit insane, does she really have no political allies to debate this for her in parliment? And I know I'm the 'lore doesn't matter' guy I know but... why didn't the eagle speak? We all know they can!

But that's not even my main issue with the Pharazon and Kemen scene, DELIGHTED to finally have the show acknowledge that Kemen had a mother and wasn't grown from Pharazon's own body or something, but... okay so RoP DOES AGREE that the dunedain can just HAVE the gift of prophecy.. so why have we slandered my poor benighted palantiri once again and given them powers they have never possessed? (I know why, the cool Miriel and Elendil vision misinterpretation couldn't have happened if they hadn't I know I know but it hurts it hurts okay!!)

BUT THAT'S STILL NOT EVEN MY MAIN ISSUE, my main issue is... this is the first time in the WHOLE SHOW we've heard anyone mention death as an issue between elves and mortals. Like Pharazon seems to have touched the sceptre and been imbued with the sudden realisation that is sucks elves get to live forever when humans can't. It's being portrayed in this like 'well clearly this is unreasonable, only a tyrant would think this' when this is one of the most emotionally relatable narratives in the whole canon! And multiple characters have MASSIVE motive to connect with this resentment. I mean, didn't Elendil literally lapse in faith BECAUSE his wife died??

It's made most gruelling by the fact that RoP got SO close to crafting a narrative that would have perfectly introduced and accelerated this resentment. Miriel went to war on the word of an elf who will live near-as-makes-no-difference forever and who HAS been alive for thousands of years already and that war killed a huge swathe of humans, many of whom were young with their whole lives ahead of them, but the thousands of years old elf still survived. Like that basic formula IS the catalyst for the first wave of faithless kings of numenor in the original canon! Minastir dragged Numenor to Gil-Galad's defense after Tar-Telperien spent so many years resisting that course of action and Minastir was the last faithful king of numenor for a millenia or more. So you would think! It would be EASY for the show to capitalise on that and show kingsmen associate the deaths of their loved ones with their resentment towards elves and the west who decreed it be so! But no! Somehow, the connection seems like... avoided almost!

Earien is angry at Miriel for taking her brother to war because of an elven artifact that she percieves as mystical and untrustworthy, and that sentiment is repeated by all the kingsmen we see (though many like Belzagar dont even seem that emotionally invested at all, it's more of a political ploy for them apparently). But literally none of them seem to have even considered the fact that dying at all sucks and apparently the option to NOT do it could be on the table, bizarre when their founding king's brother made that exact choice.

I don't know the cynic in me feels like it's an attempt to lead the viewer into an unthinking dichotomy of Faithful = Good and Kingsmen = Evil with no nuance or sympathy offered to the normal people of numenor who are reasonably asking why they have to die when elves don't! Which is would be a frankly crazy take in a show where sympathy for the villainous seems to be like... A HUGE PART of the overarching narrative they're constructing!!

And it's also clearly working if all the viciousness towards Earien is anything to go by, like my god the woman's just doing what she thinks to be the right choice with all the information she has at her disposal and since NO ONE ELSE (Elendil) seems to want to actually have a calm and respectful conversation with her about why she's mistaken and have decided just shouting and threats are the best way to go (Elendil) I do not blame her even one bit.

In general the Numenor plotline remains the MOST like... like it tears me fully in half. I am in love with the designs, the acting is great, even the FOUNDATIONS of these themes and relationships are immaculate (Elendil being initially a reluctant martyr and a disconnected unsympathetic father, Isildur survivor guilt, Elendil having a daughter who was wooed by kingsman ideology, Anarion's estrangement from his father over his revolutionist religious views etc) But they're just not handling it as well as the rest of the show's plots are. It feels rushed and muddy, and the whole 'elves coming over 'ere stealing our jobs' scene still haunts me at night. I can never get over it.

AND LAST THING I am not... content with Valandil's death. Like the scene itself was great, and my god is the music this season hitting right, but I feel like it was a waste to kill him off so early. The tragedy of it was certainly immense and it's going to drive the tension in Numenor up for sure, but Valandil was really carving a place out for himself as an interesting character in his own right and I would have liked to see him go a bit further into the story before we lost him. Though, of course, he always did have to die.

[lottiecrabie]

ok so you know the way george has a c tattoo for charli on his thigh i am thinking about george getting your initial tattooed on his thigh and surprising you with it so then every time you ride his thigh you are literally riding your own name on your man and it's really possessive and hot and FUCK

george blurb Yay😋

your first name’s initial is cursive, in a pink heart, in the middle of his thigh. a forever i love you in ink on his body. it’s also currently wet with your slick as you drag your cunt over it again and again.

george loosely holds your hip. his head rests on the back pillows of the couch, a blunt hanging from his lips. he watches you lazily; though your name draws indelible on his skin, he knows he owns you. he’s unhurried, he’s amused.

you whine for him, gripping both of his shoulders, rolling your hips harder over his naked thigh. every time you do, pleasure waves through, knotting in your belly. you claw at him. your legs shake with the effort, but you continue, undeterred. careless except for the need between your thighs slowly carved away by each grind.

‘do you like getting off on my thigh?’ george asks. though he teases, you nod pathetically, hooking an arm around his neck to keep him close. ‘yeah? hungry little thing. you’d take anything, wouldn’t you?’

‘anything, george,’ you promise. as though to please him, you rock your hips faster on him, grinding your clit on his skin. your face wrinkles in ecstasy. ‘feels so good.’ your lips part open, panting in the hot air.

george hums. he takes a hit of his blunt, bending into you to blow it in your readied mouth. you inhale it dutifully; anything he wants, anything he gives you, you promised. it tingles up your spine, mixing in your soupy brain. you give him a loose grin.

‘my good girl. always the best for me, right?’ you make a pleased moan, burying in his neck to kiss at it.

you can’t keep up with your rapid pace, every roll sloppy and off. george presses you on his thigh with a heavy hand, rocking you as he pleases. he’s better than you; sure, fast, hard. you cry in his neck, licking and biting at it, desperate. pleasure tightens and coils in your stomach.

‘look at it,’ george orders. you straighten out in an instant. your brain knocks against your skull. your fingertips buzz.

your eyes pull down to the mess of him, of you. his initial tattoo, pretty and just recently healed, fucking dripping with you. disappearing as you grind, reappearing with a wink. you whine.

‘it’s fucking hot, isn’t it?’ george whispers. ‘how no one else can ever do this to me. how i’m yours.’

you nod eagerly. ‘just me.’ for all his owning you, you own him just the same. you grin slackly at him, so fucking proud. ‘for fucking ever.’

he cups your cheek with a revering hand. watches you with that worshiping, loving look that makes you hot and ready. he doesn’t even have to say the words. they exist in his eyes, thrumming under his skin, blooming on his thigh tattoo.

‘come for me, baby,’ george pleads, dragging you over him. your body shakes. ‘i want you to come on my thigh. i want you to fucking drown that tattoo. cmon, baby. i’ll fuck you after if you’re good.’

you scream, digging your claws into his shoulders, into him. euphoria twists and twists and twists until it explodes, razing each limb, leaving no muscle unshaken. everything in you releases as you cry out his name with no second thought. you come on your initial, because he’s yours and you’re his.

george kisses your cheek. ‘so fucking good.’

you smile. ‘yeah? gonna fuck me now?’

he rolls his eyes, though he’s still amused. ‘you’re insatiable.’ still, he squashes his blunt, picks you up and under him. he bends down with a hot kiss and you don’t have to say the words for him to know either.

[d3sertdream3r]

Ngl I get kinda sad seeing Charlie and the writers say halbrand and galadriel aren't romantic at all :(

It always sucks when the creators disagree with fans, especially a part of the story that you really loved. But they have been much more respectful of shippers than lots of other showrunners I’ve seen and I really appreciate that! Charlie is so sweet, I love how much he blushes when Hot Sauron or the romance of Saurondriel is brought up, no matter how hard he tries to deny the existence of both!

I think they can’t really call it romantic because Sauron is such a screwed up individual, and ends up becoming one of the most terrifying and sadistic villains in popular culture. That’s part of why he’s so fun to analyze and revered by so many fans all over the world! They get enough crap from people listing all the things they did wrong with the show regarding the timeline, the short-haired elves, etc etc I’m sure they didn’t want to add anger over making Sauron too soft, supporting emotional abuse in relationships, or whatever else people would come up with to the list of complaints.

But they have used the word “cosmic” to describe Saurondriel’s connection, and I really love that because those two defy most words in the English language. “Romantic” doesn’t quite cut it (even though that’s definitely part of the vibe). They’re equals in power and will that circle each other like binary stars. Cosmic is perfect to describe that!

Regardless, no matter how many times they try to say the sexual tension was all unintentional, I don’t believe it. They use lots of romantic tropes throughout their scenes, the score itself is sweepingly romantic and combines Galadriel and Halbrand’s themes multiple times to display that, and no man in his position is going to ask a woman to take over the world with him purely as buddies.

Plus the way Charlie and Morfydd freaking gaze at each other??? They are devouring each other with their eyes. Morfydd even said that she and Charlie agreed their characters would get so overwhelmed by what they felt when they looked at each other it was almost too much for either of them to bear. How is that NOT romantic in any way?

They said they did several chemistry tests, and that wouldn’t be just to see if they can play off each other well enough. They wanted to make sure there were layers between them. No matter what deflection they use when asked questions of romance between the two, I’ll always believe that Sauron had real feelings for Galadriel and vice versa, and he would’ve much preferred her to join him than fight against her! (Even if they would’ve eventually torn each other apart either way, lol)

[73647e]

so this is my dps x honor among thieves crossover post because I just came back from the theater but its actually more of a poets if they played dnd or were in a dnd setting type of post so here is goes:

neil is for sure a human bard. it's the theater kid element that makes me assign him this, which I know, basic, but it's just so right. he's just so full of life, and energy, and love, and he needs to direct that towards someone, though most of the time he ends up having to direct that emotion toward the world around him instead, as many people don't need that amount of enthusiasm in their life for it would just be too much for them combined with their own passions (if that makes sense???) this leads to neil just wandering. I imagine he meets todd, and todd ends up acting as a channel through which neil can share his own love and zest or whatever.

todd is an elf druid. I was originally going to put him in as a cleric, but I just cannot see todd devoted to a higher power, at least long term as he is much too rebellious for that and would start pointing out different inconsistencies, hence me assigning druid. he always feels like he isn't comfortable with himself, and the way that he fits in with everything, so I think the shape-shifting aspect to the druid really drew me to assign that to todd. I imagine that if it were up to him, he would simply wander around and spend his time being disconnected from society, making him semi-comfortable. however, he found a tether in neil, and neil makes him want to be part of society and everything.

charlie is a gnome rogue. he is just an absolute mastermind, and I don't really think I have much to say about this as I think much of it is self-explanatory. I imagine that charlie didn't have much of an idea of what he wanted to do with his life, and he just kinda fucked around and found out that he can be good at something, and that something is fucking around and finding out. charlie does what he wants, when he wants, all the time, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

meeks is a half-elf cleric. he is devoted to learning, knowledge, and follows the path of his god, which will stayed unnamed as I cannot be assed to give it a name. much of his word view is shaped by his passion for learning, and everything he does is in devotion to knowledge. I don't exactly know how he would fit into an overarching narrative, but perhaps he is motivated by wanting to find himself apart from his life's work/mission or whatever.

pitts is a water genasi monk. idk I just seem him as a very chill guy, but someone that has lines that shouldn't be crossed, hence this assignment. I think a lot of time pitts likes to just work on himself, hoping that he can be the best person possible, which is something that really suits a monk. additionally, his engagement and reverence for the world around him, both because of his monkness and because of his race, makes him a very kind a free spirited person. I don't know, I don't think I have much to say about good old pittsie. he's just great. I imagine him to be a person that, though they don't say a lot, they don't need to because people just understand and empathize with him, just by his own good nature.

knox is half-orc paladin, which is a really weird combination as half-orcs are usually clerics and stuff (I have a special place in my heart for half-orcs as my first ever dnd character was a half-orc so I needed to add them, and I do think they fit knox well). knox seems like the type of person to honor a chivalric code that he follows, something that could be personal or part of an institution. I believe his own code would be one of love or passion or something, though im a bit unclear how he would fit into a larger narrative. for knox however, I believe everything is very black and white, with not much nuance, and because of that, I think the whole chivalric code thing was very appealing. he could fit in the way that his code was challenged, and he wanted to do exploration of how the world works or something idk.

cameron is a human paladin. im sorry y'all I just love paladins and I have forever so I will make everyone who can be a paladin because I love love love paladins so much. but similar to knox, cameron also has a code that he follows, and he needs those rules to make sense of the world. perhaps he and knox worked for the same group of people, and just like with knox, their codes were challenged at the same time and they were persistent to make sense of the world after it was essentially turned upside down for them?

chris is an elf sorcerer. she's beauty, she's grace, she'll punch you in the face. I think that chris has extreme expectations from her family that she has to live up to as she comes from a long LONG line of extremely powerful magic users. she's jealous of people that can simply walk around and do whatever they want, and she wishes she could be like that. cut to her running away and fucking around and finding out!!!

ginny is a tiefling warlock. I think there's a lot of resentment in her past, and it led to her doing some things, engaging in some types of magic that she isn't proud of. she tries generally to hide her past because of that. she's running from herself, essentially. she's an incredibly powerful magic user, as the the types of stuff she was dealing with made her "toughen up" essentially, allowing to deal with extreme amounts of magical strain, though she isn't very good at very basic types of magic as she essentially skipped over stuff like that?? idk im really bad at explaining???

anyway yeah this is really bad I kinda didn't know were I was going by the end of this but I hope y'all enjoyed!!!

[brushandneedles]

Thelonious Monk: Architect of Jazz Innovation and Uniqueness

In the rich tapestry of jazz history, the name Thelonious Monk stands as a beacon of innovation, unpredictability, and sheer artistic brilliance. Born on October 10, 1917, in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, Monk emerged as one of the most influential figures in the world of jazz, leaving an indelible mark on the genre with his distinctive approach to composition and improvisation. Step into the enigmatic world of jazz with our Thelonious Monk-inspired T-shirts, a sartorial ode to the timeless eccentricity and musical genius of the legendary pianist.

Early Years and Musical Upbringing

Thelonious Sphere Monk's musical journey began in his early childhood. Raised in New York City, Monk's exposure to music came primarily through the church, where his mother, Barbara, served as the church organist. Monk's early interest in the piano was nurtured by his family, and by the age of 11, he had already begun to showcase his prodigious talent.

Innovations in Jazz Harmony and Rhythm

Monk's impact on jazz is perhaps most prominently felt in the realm of harmony. His unique approach to chord voicings and dissonant intervals challenged the conventional norms of the time. Monk's compositions, such as "Round Midnight" and "Blue Monk," are characterized by their unconventional harmonic structures, marked by angular melodies and unexpected chord progressions.

His use of dissonance, often incorporating clusters of notes played in close proximity, created a sense of tension and release that was revolutionary in the jazz landscape. Monk's harmonic innovations laid the foundation for future generations of jazz musicians to explore new possibilities in tonality and expression.

The Pianistic Genius

Monk's distinctive pianism is immediately recognizable. His percussive and angular playing style, coupled with his penchant for dissonant chords, created a sonic signature that set him apart from his contemporaries. The rhythmic complexity of Monk's playing, characterized by unexpected accents and pauses, added an additional layer of intrigue to his performances.

His influence on piano technique and style extended beyond his compositions. Monk's idiosyncratic approach to the instrument, with his use of staccato accents and unexpected pauses, challenged the conventional norms of jazz piano playing. His innovations continue to resonate in the work of countless pianists who have drawn inspiration from Monk's groundbreaking style.

The Birth of Bebop and Monk's Role

The 1940s saw the emergence of the bebop movement, a revolutionary shift in jazz characterized by rapid tempos, complex harmonies, and intricate improvisation. Monk played a crucial role in shaping the bebop sound, collaborating with pioneers such as Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie. His compositions, including "Well, You Needn't" and "Epistrophy," became emblematic of the bebop era.

While Monk's contemporaries were often at the forefront of the bebop movement, Monk's own unique contributions were sometimes overshadowed. His compositions, though revered by fellow musicians, did not always find immediate commercial success. Nevertheless, Monk's uncompromising commitment to his artistic vision and his refusal to conform to established norms set him apart as a true innovator.

The Legendary Monk Quartet

In the mid-1950s, Monk formed the legendary Thelonious Monk Quartet, a group that featured John Coltrane on tenor saxophone, Wilbur Ware on bass, and Shadow Wilson on drums. This quartet, often hailed as one of the greatest in the history of jazz, produced some of Monk's most iconic recordings.

The partnership with Coltrane, in particular, was a meeting of two musical giants. Coltrane's fiery and expressive playing complemented Monk's idiosyncratic compositions, creating a synergy that elevated both artists to new heights. The recordings from this period, including the album "Thelonious Monk with John Coltrane," are celebrated as masterpieces of jazz collaboration.

Monk's Compositional Legacy

Thelonious Monk's compositions have become an integral part of the jazz repertoire. His tunes, characterized by their memorable melodies and intricate harmonic structures, continue to be studied and performed by musicians around the world. "Round Midnight," arguably Monk's most famous composition, has been recorded by countless artists and remains a jazz standard.

Monk's compositional style was rooted in a deep understanding of the blues, and his ability to infuse bluesy sensibilities into complex harmonic settings contributed to the enduring appeal of his music. His compositions often featured unexpected rhythmic twists and turns, keeping both musicians and listeners on their toes.

The Jazz Vanguard: Monk's Impact on the Genre

Beyond his contributions as a pianist and composer, Monk played a pivotal role in shaping the broader landscape of jazz. His unapologetic commitment to originality and innovation encouraged other musicians to explore their own unique voices. Monk's impact extended beyond the confines of bebop, influencing the development of post-bop, free jazz, and avant-garde jazz.

Monk's insistence on individual expression and his rejection of musical conventions opened doors for future generations of jazz artists to embrace their creative instincts. His influence is evident in the work of avant-garde musicians such as Cecil Taylor and Ornette Coleman, who drew inspiration from Monk's fearless approach to musical exploration.

Challenges and Recognition

Despite his undeniable genius, Monk faced challenges in his career. His unorthodox playing style and sometimes unpredictable behavior led to periods of public misunderstanding. In 1951, Monk's cabaret card was revoked in New York City, a setback that restricted his ability to perform in local venues for several years.

However, Monk's fortunes began to change in the late 1950s and early 1960s. With the support of fellow musicians and growing recognition of his artistic contributions, Monk experienced a resurgence in his career. In 1964, he appeared on the cover of Time magazine, a significant acknowledgment of his status as a jazz innovator.

Later Years and Recognition

In the latter part of his career, Monk continued to tour and record prolifically. His later albums, including "Monk's Dream" (1963) and "Criss-Cross" (1963), showcased his enduring creativity. Monk's impact on jazz was further recognized when he was awarded the prestigious Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 1997, a fitting tribute to his lasting contributions to the genre.

Monk's Persona: Quirks and Eccentricities

Thelonious Monk's persona was as distinctive as his music. Known for his distinctive sense of style, which often included distinctive hats and sunglasses, Monk's onstage presence reflected his offbeat approach to life. His penchant for abrupt pauses during performances, as well as his sometimes enigmatic behavior, only added to the mystique surrounding the man and his music.

Legacy and Influence

Thelonious Monk's legacy endures not only through his recordings but also through the impact he had on the evolution of jazz. His uncompromising commitment to originality and his fearless exploration of musical possibilities continue to inspire musicians across genres. Monk's influence can be heard in the work of pianists ranging from Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea to modern innovators like Brad Mehldau.

Monk's compositions remain a rite of passage for jazz musicians, a testament to the enduring power of his musical vision. His contributions to jazz harmony, rhythm, and composition have left an indelible mark on the genre, ensuring that Thelonious Monk's legacy will resonate through the ages as a testament to the boundless possibilities of artistic expression in jazz. Embrace the avant-garde flair of jazz with our Thelonious Monk T-shirt, embodying the quirky elegance and groundbreaking creativity of the legendary pianist.

[vyrulent]

[ REVERENT ]  one or both muses have been pining for a while,  sender body worships receiver by kissing all over their body and giving them oral.  [ Supppose I'll go bold for once . Lmao ]

meme || @wraith-of-christmas-future

Those fumbling touches in the seat of his Wraith, the uncertain movements of a fresh couple in love had culminated into the tripping into her bedroom while parents were away. Door securely fastened and blinds pulled to a close -- though, there was always that certainty that the neighbors had spied their neighbor’s daughter canoodling with her boyfriend, of escorting him inside while mom and dad were away. Even as an adult, she’d still be lectured.

Falling into the bed, she bounced playfully while girlish glee plastered upon her youthful, pretty features. Brunette locks haloed about her, reminiscent of the angel set atop the Christmas tree in yearly fashion. 

With each tug of clothing, his warm kiss was an offered reward for the exposure of pale flesh...and oh, how Jolene July wanted more of his touches. With each kiss, with each grip and embrace, her skin flushed. Surely, the virginal creative felt the subtle hint of nervousness for such an act before marriage -- but they both knew that wedding bells were certainly in their future. What was the point in postponing their union simply for vows to be exchanged, for ceremony to be had? 

“Charlie,” a hint of confusion fell from her as legs parted and she felt his lips grazing lower and lower, hovering just above pubic mound where entrance waited with patience, wet and warm for him. 

“What are you...”

Such an act had never been spoken of amongst her girlfriends at work. She’d been told to expect a man’s desire for her mouth around his cock, for her hands to gently squeeze against his sack as she willingly allowed a man to shove his thick cock down her throat, to allow her man to nearly suffocate her in that process, and how Charlotte from work had the theory that all men secretly wanted you to call them “daddy”, but this? Never had any of the more experienced women at work spoken of such an act gifted upon them. And there was a certain strangeness in it that Charlie had not seemed to want any of what those women had cautioned her on. Every expectation had not been met -- not that she was complaining. She’d take him in her mouth if he’d ever asked, but Charlie hadn’t -- and she held the thought that it wasn’t something that Charlie particularly wanted from her. It did seem quite the vulgar act -- and if she knew anything about Charlie, it’s that vulgarity thrown upon his woman was not something he desired greatly. 

Legs settled over his shoulders comfortably. The feel of her bare skin against his was an aphrodisiac. So many nights had she dreamed of their first night together and now it was finally happening. 

With her laid out before him, her legs over his shoulders, there was a momentary hint of self consciousness as breasts laid out, unsupported by the likes of a bra, leaving them to flop about. Hands fell from his shoulders, fell from their rushing through his dark hair, leaving his once perfectly in place hair a wild mess, to lay across her chest, to hide her exposed chest from sight.

Hips rolled forward at the feel of his lips. Such a new sensation brought about from someone she so deeply loved caused the twitch of desire in her belly to stir even more. Curls were damned near ready to curl with each exploration lips and tongue made upon her body.

No man had ever touched her. Even her own hands had not worked against her body in such pleasurable of a force. This was new. This was Charlie showing her a world only a man could offer for she knew that it would only ever be Charlie. There’d never be another man. He was her first and last, always. 

With one arm holding beneath the curve of her breasts, the other slipped out around her. Fingers clutched into the blankets beneath her, knuckles fell white with the curve of fingers into fabric in a death grip as pleasure offered slowly rushed over her. Soft mewls like never before offered fell over her lips. His name slowly followed suit as Jolene made unsteady attempts in keeping herself quite. Certainly if Christmasland was to be their destination, their home, and a number of children to be under their roof, she could not so freely moan -- but they were alone. There were no children and no parents to be found in the silence of a broken home. 

It was a silent night and one to be cherished, to be remembered. 

We can’t...” another whimper of desire as she rolled her hips forward, pushing herself further into him, enjoying where he lapped and the tingle of nerves he created there. “We can’t do this when we have kids, Charlie,” a hushed laugh fell from her, smile splayed over her lips, “It makes me too loud.” Lower lip was bitten as she attempted to quiet a growing need to whimper out. “God, Charlie. You’re so good at this.”

How could an ex wife not have enjoyed him when he was offering up so much pleasure without any hint of selfishness?

[impishtubist]

Hi hello do you have thoughts and feelings about Remus and Bill you’d like to share (have you shared this before, I can’t remember and I’m sorry if you have but tell me more more!)

Hi hello yes I do! I don't remember if I've shared before, either!

-Remus goes for younger men! Not, like, obscenely young, but he likes that there's ten years between him and Bill! Some people like age gaps, idk.

-Bill is tall and broad and muscular and cool and not at all posh, and Remus loves the hell out of it.

-Bill always had a habit of forming unfortunate crushes on his professors at school, so his boyfriend being the embodiment of a grandpa and a professor is..............a surprise to absolutely no one lmao.

-They both have careers studying the dark arts! Remus is skilled at Defense and Bill is a cursebreaker, so they have loads to talk about.

-They also go on jobs together! They travel all over the world, breaking curses and tracking down magical creatures and doing all sorts of dangerous shit.

-Remus helps Bill after his attack in HBP, and they become closer because of it.

-Here's a scene that never made it into the Sirius/Charlie fic about Remus, Bill, and their baby in DH:

The baby was three weeks old by the time Sirius and Charlie were able to pop over to Lupin Cottage to meet them. It was bitterly cold, even for the end of April, and a stiff wind blew them up from the Apparition point on the beach to the door of the cozy cottage. Bill answered Sirius’s hasty knock and ran through the security questions quickly before ushering them inside. 

“Hello, Lupins!” Sirius greeted cheerfully, though his gaze had zeroed in on the bundle of blankets in Remus’s arms.

“Hello, soon-to-be-Blacks,” Remus said. Sirius didn’t think he’d seen such a genuine grin on Remus’s face in, well, years. “Come meet our son.” 

“A boy?” Sirius breathed, quickly crossing the room to Remus.

“A boy,” Remus said, transferring the bundle to Sirius’s arms. “Edward, but we’re calling him Teddy.” 

“Teddy,” Sirius said quietly, reverently. “Hello, darling.” 

“Didn’t inherit the Weasley hair, I see,” Charlie said, stroking a thumb over the pale wisps on the baby’s head. 

Teddy blinked up at Charlie with Remus’s hazel eyes--and then, to Sirius’s utter shock, his hair turned a vibrant red. 

“Surprise,” Bill said, fighting a grin at the expressions on Sirius and Charlie’s faces. “He’s a Metamorphmagus.” 

“What, like Dora?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“Turns out it’s a gene that runs in Pureblood lines, though there’s no telling when it will surface,” Bill said. 

Sirius sat on the sofa. Charlie sat next to him, and Sirius handed him the baby. 

“And the lycanthropy?” Sirius asked as Remus and Bill settled on the other sofa. 

“He doesn’t have it,” Remus said. “He got a bit fussy around the last moon, so maybe he’s moon-sensitive, but he never transformed.”

[dewdropdinosaur]

Either Way, What Bliss

ROSIE X M READER Summary: With the impending war against Heaven looming, who better than to ask for advice than Rosie and her very affectionate husband? Warnings: NONE. Requested by @pixie-skull Enjoy! REQUESTS OPEN

In the dark, decadent heart of Hell, the Hazbin Hotel stood as a sanctuary for wayward souls seeking redemption. Rosie, the charming and enigmatic demoness, had carved out a reputation as the go-to source for advice on matters of the heart, head, and herasy. Her husband, Y/N, a calm and wise presence by her side, was equally revered for his counsel on friendship and loyalty, though he preferred to differ to his wife on most matters. Mainly because he was too preoccupied holding her hand to care of the matter at hand. 

The hotel was bustling with activity, demons and sinners of all kinds milling about, seeking solace and guidance. The looming threat of war with Adam’s angels and Heaven had cast a shadow over the denizens of Hell, and the patrons of the Hazbin Hotel were no exception. Amidst the chaos, Rosie and Y/N found themselves inundated with requests for advice.

One evening, as the crimson sky outside darkened further, Charlie approached the couple.Y/N had his arm linked with Rosie’s, placing a tender kiss on her cheek. Only a cough from Charlie and nudge from his wife, stopped his affection with a sour look upon his face. Her eyes were filled with worry, her hands wringing nervously, though she kept a plastered smile on her face. 

"Rosie, Y/N, I would…no need your help," she began, her voice trembling. "Vaggie and I have been…struggling a bit, and with the angels threatening us, I'm scared we'll drift apart due to her…previous alignments."

Rosie offered Charlie a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "Why, love is tested in times of crisis, my dear!" she said gently tugging on her cheek a little.

Y/N stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on the princess’ shoulder. "Communication is key. You need to sit down and talk, really talk, about your fears and worries. Be honest and open. Remember, you're in this together." Gently grabbing Rosie’s hand, Y/N spun her in a display. “Gotta trust each other even when random stuff happens, you gotta go with the flow with your partner, easy as dancing child.” He then dipped Rosie and placed a soft kiss on her neck.

The princess nodded, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. "Thank you, both of you. I'll try to talk to her tonight."

As the night wore on, Rosie and Y/N continued to offer their wisdom and support to the hotel patrons. Despite the impending threat from the angels, a sense of unity and hope began to blossom within the Hazbin Hotel. The couple's guidance helped the demons forge stronger bonds of love and friendship, giving them the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

After a long day of offering counsel to the worried patrons, Rosie returned to Cannibal Town, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion once she entered the dark hallways of the Emporium. The faint light of the bedroom’s dim lamp cast a warm glow across the room, highlighting the elegant yet cozy decor that spoke volumes about the couple's shared taste. Y/N was already there, waiting for her, his eyes lighting up the moment she walked through the door.

"Hello, Cher," he greeted her softly, crossing the room to envelop her in a tender embrace. "You look tired."

Rosie melted into his arms, the tension easing from her body as she buried her face in his chest. Y/N gently tilted her chin up, his eyes locking onto hers with a depth of affection that made her heart flutter. "You're incredible, you know that? The way you help everyone, the way you care… I'm in awe of you every single day cara mia."

Rosie blushed, a rare sight that Y/N cherished. "Oh you flatter me, Y/N."

He led her to the plush sofa by the window, where they could see the dark, fiery landscape of Hell outside. But the view didn't matter to them; it was the comfort of each other's presence that provided solace. Y/N sat down and pulled Rosie into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned back against his chest.

For a moment, they simply sat in silence, savoring the closeness. Y/N's hands moved gently, one tracing soothing patterns on her back, the other threading through her hair. Rosie closed her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

Y/N's hand slid down to intertwine with hers, their fingers fitting together perfectly. "No matter what happens, Rosie, I want you to know that I'll always be here for you. We'll get through this together, just like we always have."

In that moment, the world outside faded away. The looming war, the fear, and the uncertainty were all distant concerns. Here, in the embrace of the one she loved, Rosie found the strength and comfort she needed. And as Y/N held her close, he silently vowed to protect and cherish her, come what may.

The next day, in the grand foyer of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor, the Radio Demon, stood with his usual air of eerie confidence. His ever-present grin and vintage microphone added a touch of old-world charm to his otherwise intimidating presence. Despite his sinister reputation, there was an unspoken bond between him and Rosie, and by extension, Y/N.

Y/N approached Alastor with a determined yet respectful demeanor. The Radio Demon raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as Y/N drew closer. "Ah, Y/N! What a lovely surprise!”

Y/N smiled, his gratitude evident in his eyes. "Alastor, I wanted to thank you."

Alastor's grin faltered for a split second, replaced by genuine curiosity. "Oh? And what, pray tell, have I done to deserve your gratitude?"

Y/N glanced around, ensuring they had a moment of privacy. "For introducing me to Rosie. I don't think I ever properly thanked you for that."

Alastor's eyes twinkled with amusement and a hint of nostalgia. "Ah, yes. Our dear Rosie. It seems like just yesterday I was playing matchmaker, doesn't it?" He chuckled, the sound echoing with a touch of static. "But tell me, Y/N, what brings on this sudden burst of sentimentality?"

Y/N shrugged, his smile softening. "With everything going on—the war, the fear—it made me realize how lucky I am to have her. I owe a lot of that to you."

Alastor's grin returned in full force, but there was a warmth behind it that he rarely showed. "Well, well, well. I must say, I do have a knack for bringing people together." He leaned in slightly, his tone conspiratorial. "But in all seriousness, Y/N, I'm glad she has you. You've been good for her."

Y/N's expression turned earnest. "And she's been everything to me. So, thank you, Alastor. For everything."

The Radio Demon waved a hand dismissively, but the gesture was softened by a rare look of genuine affection. "Think nothing of it, my friend. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything, as long as your green voodoo ain’t attached." Y/N replied without hesitation.

Alastor's eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and sincerity. "Take….care of her.”

Y/N nodded, his resolve unwavering. "I will. I promise."

With that, Alastor's grin took on its usual sharp edge, but the moment of camaraderie lingered. "Good. Now, off you go. I'm sure our dear Rosie is wondering where you've wandered off to. Though she has always made it a habit to lose a husband one way or another."

Y/N chuckled, giving Alastor a grateful nod before turning to leave, his eyes brightening upon seeing his wife inthe foyer and rushing to her side; which he would not leave until his second death did them part.

[jortsaaaaaaart]

To Be Forgotten Amongst Friends chp1

Omega! Reader x avengers

Hello all! I revamped my story "ikaros" and this is the new story! Also the name is long rip.

Trigger warnings (later chapters mostly)- ptsd, noncon, kidnapping, human experimentation, Stockholm and lima syndrome

The following chapters will be posted on- https://archiveofourown.org/works/33890977     (seriously- may not post here that often cause i hate the tagging system- go check out ao3)

It's a beautiful day in New York and you're a terrible, no good, thief. 

You were considered New York’s very own Robin Hood. Two hundred ATM robberies in two years, the money flying out of the machines and into the hands of people who needed it. The banks, collectively, had lost over $300,000 from the ATMs alone. But of course, it wasn't just the ATMs. A rash of robberies had spread over the East coast. Most were digital, companies funneling their own money to offshore accounts that wanted nothing to do with U.S. intervention. The FBI were notified, then the CIA, and eventually- after a daring cyber attack against the DOD- SHIELD itself turned it's one eyed gaze onto you.

Nick Fury saw something the other agencies didn't. You had certain gifts that made your line of work incredibly easy. Whether they were natural mutations or some sort of superpower, they allowed you to break into some of the most secure networks known to man. He had almost found you when SHIELD fell and his resources vanished. After the dust cleared he was forced to start from scratch. Hunting you and the remnants of Hydra down at the same time wasn't easy, but, in a strange twist of fate, he found someone else that was searching for you too.

+++

New York was filled with so many people. Most of them were good, in your opinion. (Well, maybe half, actually.) You spent most of your off time working on "projects" or walking around the city. You had become a fixture at the local Bodega. Single omegas were extremely  rare, marked single omegas were almost unheard of. The mark gave you certain freedoms other omegas, sadly, didn't have. It drove away most potential suitors and the ones who were particularly bold would be given a taste of your powers. Once the burrow had gotten used to your presence they saw you as a generous person, but a secretive one. Someone who took no shit even with their designation. You gave to the community and different Omega rights groups in the area. After years of watching you quietly go about helping people you had been welcomed into the burrow's heart with open arms.

You loved helping people in your own way. You loved it just as much as you hated corporations and the police, but when you could make an ATM spew it's contents out into the poorest streets of Brooklyn or make Fox News send a million dollars to Planned Parenthood, you could have the best of both worlds.

At least, for a time. All good things had to end, right? That's what you told yourself as the redhead picked her way through the crowd towards you. 

Seeing an avenger in your neighborhood was an odd occurrence. It was a poorer part of town, untouched in the battle of New York, and too out of the way for any super villain origin stories. In fact, you seemed to be the only mutant in the entire block. You'd always thought, if someone was going to come for you, it would be a couple of FBI agents and not the fucking Black Widow. Your brain and heart went into overdrive as you tried to remember doing anything worth the avenger's time. But there was nothing. The DOD hack had been almost a year ago and all you did was release government files showing attacks on civilians overseas. It hardly seemed like an avengers worthy crime, especially when Black Widow herself had leaked government secrets before.

Any hope of her not not looking for you was dashed when her eyes locked onto yours. She tilted her head, asking a silent question. 

The burst of adrenaline sent you careening through the lunchtime crowds. You couldn't feel anyone on the rooftops but there was a large form blocking your path, trying to box you in. They were stronger and faster but you knew the environment. You ducked into Charlie's, your sneakers skidding on the asphalt as you took the sharp turn. The person behind the counter lazily looked up as you walked to the back. They knew you well enough to not care, they also weren't paid enough to care. The alley would open up into a busy side street. More people meant a better chance to blend in and get away. You were almost to the end when the door opened behind you. Black Widow and fucking Captain America stepped into the alley. For a moment the three of you stood in something akin to a standoff. 

You felt wildly undressed for this life-threatening situation.

"We just want to talk, (Y/N)" Captain America told you, hands raised. The unmistakable stink of an alpha radiated from the captain. You were momentarily thankful for your mark dulling its effect on you. Though, the blonde's scent was tinged with something hauntingly familiar. Something you didn't want to recognize.

Behind him, Black widow's free hand went to her ear. "Target is in the alley between 31st and 32nd," A twitch of your finger and the line went dead. Her hand dropped to the gun at her hip.

"I'm feeling pretty under equipped for this 'conversation'," You replied, slowly raising your hands as well, wondering if they could feel what you were doing. They didn't react and you slowly let your power seep from you.

Natasha was the first to react, drawing her gun and spinning around. Steve looked at her with confusion as her wide eyes scanned the alley as if she was seeing ghosts. She was afraid he realized, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. He moved towards her and you took off running. You felt him hesitate then take off after you, gaining on you with an embarrassingly low number of strides. You tried your powers again, stronger this time, but his focus was unwavering. He was almost to you now and you were running out of options. That’s when the alpha in him came out.

“Omega!” He snarled, “Stop!” Your feet slowed down immediately. It wasn’t as strong as your own alpha’s command would be, but the super soldier certainly commanded respect and obedience. You were forced to stand still, eyes burning holes in the asphalt, as the alpha’s footsteps grew closer. You really didn't want to do this but it looked like you had no choice. Your jaw clenched, and you spun around when his hand grabbed your arm. The blonde's eyes widened as you placed a palm to his chest. 

He barely had time to glance down at your hand before the electricity hit him.

The 1,000 volts you sent into him were supposed to stun him or send him flying, allowing you to escape. However, his muscles spasmed just a bit stronger than you intended. In an instant his grip crushed the bones in your arm and sent the two of you careening backwards into a brick wall. Natasha would find you a moment later, passed out on top of the super soldier, a sizable hole in the wall.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a few blurry white shapes milled about in the corners of your vision. You couldn't remember how you got here, or where here was. All your senses seemed to be dulled. Your wrist was throbbing and each time you opened your eyes the room came in and out of focus. You closed your eyes, opting to ignore the funhouse effect and focus on the sounds around you. The beeping of the monitors, footsteps on concrete, and two low voices.

"She's alright, Buck, I promise." Steve's voice wavered in and out of your consciousness bringing with it the memory of how you got into this bed. "She did something to Nat and ran before I could explain. I wasn't expecting her powers to be so strong."

"I should have come with you," Another voice snarled. Your heart skipped a beat at the low growl. You knew that voice. It evoked a sickening combination of need and terror and you couldn't remember why. "She wouldn't have gotten hurt if I had. What idiot doesn't know omegas are fragile?!"

"It was an accident!" His voice raised slightly before sighing. "I know you're worried, but she's fine."

The scent you had smelled on Steve earlier swirled around the room. Metal and burning pine, it affected you just like the voice had, triggering both panic and yearning. You knew it somehow. The memory was there somewhere, tucked away where it couldn’t hurt you. Where it should have been forgotten.

The scent grew unbearably strong as he leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back he wasn't expecting his eyes to catch yours. 

His expression softened as soon as he realized you were awake. "Omega," Bucky whispered reverently. Stormy blue eyes stared down at you with love and adoration, watching the color drain from your face. "Doll?" 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you could hear the panicked beeping of the machines and Steve trying to calm you down. But it didn't matter. All that you could feel was the need to get far, far, away from this man. You didn't know how you knew him but you knew he was dangerous. You knew he had hurt you. That's why, as he reached out to gently cup your face, you slapped his hand away. 

"Get away from me!" You gasped, voice breaking. You scooted back and tried to back up as far as possible. Your shaky legs barely held your weight as you slid off the bed. Pure terror coursed through your veins, it was the only thing keeping you on your feet. You found yourself pressed into the corner of the room while the men stared at you in shock. Steve and Bucky gaped like you had just told them the Germans had actually won WWII. Eyebrows knit together, blue eyes wide and frantic, Bucky looked like he was in emotional turmoil.

“(Y/N), doll, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s your alpha.” Bucky reached out to you carefully as a low purr rumbled from his chest.

You felt the purr relax you and dull your senses even more. It was nauseating. “I don’t have an alpha! And I don’t know who the hell you are!” You tried to shout and grit your teeth but the words came out in broken sobs, betraying your weakness. Who was this? Why was he the most terrifying thing you had ever seen?

Your teeth were bared at this point but the man kept coming towards you. The tunnel vision and rapid shallow breaths were the only warnings your body gave you as it reverted to its animalistic omega framework. Bucky watched as, in slow motion, your eyes went blank as your body gave out. 

+++

Your alpha held your body to his chest in disbelief. He had expected some shock at seeing him but this went far beyond his expectations. It had been over three years since he'd last seen you. Since he'd last been able to drink in your scent. He'd figured you might not recognize him at first. He had changed a lot over the years. No longer under Hydra's control his physical appearance, demeanor, and scent had changed. But your body should've known your alpha. 

"What was that?" Steve asked. "Why did she react like that when she has your mark?" The two alphas were on edge. Seeing a vulnerable omega drop triggered their protective instincts. Steve desperately wanted to take you and hold you close, ease you out of the drop. If the alpha holding you was anyone other than his closest friend and packmate he would have ripped you out of his grasp immediately. For now he'd have to hold himself back.

"She didn't remember me." Bucky nuzzled his head into your neck, nursing your mark softly. After a moment he pulled back and gazed at your unchanged features. He couldn't wake you from this drop that easily. He pressed in harder this time, teeth lining up with the scar perfectly, but there was still no change. No purr, command, or bite was waking you up.

"We should let her rest, Buck. The pain meds will wear off soon and we'll try again. . . Bring her to the den. She'll need to get used to everyone's scents sooner or later." Steve laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. It was a gentle but firm suggestion. He knew tensions were high, the den, with it's heavy curtains and plush blankets, would calm down his friend and the omega. With little argument the brunette lifted you up and carried you to the den. It was aptly named and extremely well constructed thanks to Stark. Curtains blocked off all light from the windows, mattresses were inlaid into the ground, and the temperature was always cool. It was one good thing about being in a pack with that narcissist, Bucky thought dryly.

Steve led them into a cozy corner of the room. The captain hummed happily as they moved the pillows and blankets, creating a makeshift nest for the three of them. The feeling of the omega pressing into his chest was addictive. He couldn't wait for you to remember your alpha.

The sooner you remembered your bond with Bucky the sooner the rest of the pack, Steve included, could court you.

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Golden (Charlie Barber x Reader)

Summary: Can a blow out argument end well between you and Charlie? After finding out that you had been unwittingly part of an affair you had tried to trust him again but are you even sure it's possible?

Notes: This is part two of Just Give Me Time - thank you to the anon that prompted me to write a part two!!

Words: 856

You shrugged at him and all of a sudden the room exploded, Charlie let out a loud noise of frustration that almost sounded like a growl, “Will you stop that?”

You bunched yourself up in your seat, “What?”

“Pushing me away”

“What do you expect me to do Charlie, I can’t…”

He huffed loudly, cutting you off, “What? You can’t what? Trust me?! We’ve been over this”

Silence then descended upon the room like bricks being dropped, it was sudden and jarring. His chest rose and fell in quick succession as he panted through his anger. Your tears spilled down your face, dripping down your neck and soaking the top of your shirt.

As you spoke your voice was soft and quiet, tentative in what you had to say, “You’re going to leave”

“What? No, I am not!” He insisted, voice loud and abrasive before he dropped it down to a low steady tone, “Where has this come from?”

He’d never sounded more like a dad to you, at least without Henry around, until you heard that tone of voice. That switch between frustrated, jumbled thoughts to understanding and calm.

“Everyone always does, I drive people away because of… how I am”

“I’m not them” He stepped closer to where you were sitting.

“But you will be” you sobbed, “One day you will be”

“I won’t leave you”

“Like you didn’t leave already your wife?”

That stung! You could tell by the way his body visibly recoiled from you. His eyes were zeroed in on you, stern and hurt.

“Don’t throw that in my face, this isn’t like that”

Now you stood, not to get in his face but because your body couldn’t stand being still any more. It felt like every muscle in your body was trying to jump free of your skin, “Isn’t it?! You left her, you were married and you had a son and you still left. What makes me better than that? Or more than that? What makes you better than how everyone else treats me?”

“I’m not them. I’m not your family, I’m not your fucking obnoxious work colleagues, I’m not your friends. I’m not going anywhere, honestly I don’t care how you think you treat me because nothing you have ever done will be as bad as what I’ve already lived through”

You stood staring at him, words arriving but failing to leave your lips. You shook your head and he sighed. His hands moved as if he was trying to move aside his anger and find the words, “You are not Nicole! I hated her sweetheart, I fucking hated her. The only reason I fought in that divorce was for my son, if we didn’t have a kid I’d have been out the door overnight giving her anything she wanted to make her go away”

Deep sigh, his eyes soften and he stepped forward hands reaching for you but not touching.

“But you? For you I’d move planets before I let you walk away from me. I trapped myself in my relationship with her but I CHOSE you”

Silence again, he took a deep rattling breath, “Let me assure you, you are not Nicole. There isn’t a bone in your body capable of being as bad for me as she was, we never fit. Something always felt wrong, we both acted in ways that finally broke that. But with you I’ve never felt like that, nothing even close. Why do you think I fought so hard to keep you even though it hurt you? I’m a bad person and you choose to love me”

“Charlie Barber you are not a bad person! Making bad choices doesn’t make you a bad person!”

He smirked, “And struggling with the thoughts in your head doesn’t make YOU a bad person. What others choose to do to you is their problem, not yours. How your friends treat you or how people at work see you is there fault. You to me are… golden!”

“Golden?”

“Yes darling, golden. Beautiful, shining, revered, coveted and solid. A solidness that only breaks under extreme heat and you, my love, are marching through volcanos right now and you’re still here”

“I don’t want to lose you” you whispered.

“Then you won’t, that’s decided”

Pause, finished with a light shy chuckle, “Plus Henry would kill me if you left cause he likes you a lot” he winked causing broken giggles from you.

Like a tidal wave of movement you crashed together, gripping and pulling at each other as if trying to climb inside each others skin. His lips placed firm touch to your hair and your fingertips grappled with the material of his jumper. You curled your body against his, wide chest and long arms enveloping you somewhere safe.

Leaning back your lips touched, sighing longingly into each other like the weight of centuries just lifted.

“You… are golden” he repeated in a heady whisper, lips hovering above yours. You nodded and pulled him into another kiss.

You grabbed him like you never intended on letting go and as his arms wound their way around your body and he lifted you into him you decided you never would.

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Four]

Summary: Desire and darkness consume Poe and the reader, leaving them with only one goal. In the aftermath, years of pain and grief finally surface. 

Warnings: 18+ Sex Pollen=dubcon/noncon smut. Dark themes, mild violence/injury descriptions, language, angst, fluff. WC: 10,551

A/N: SURPRISE! One day early because I love you all and got my shit together this week. PLEASE NOTE the red banners are visual cuts you can use to skip the dark smut should you prefer to! 

Poe stood next to Charlie on the tarmac, waiting impatiently with his stomach in knots of excitement and anticipation. Even Charlie was shifting from foot to foot, uncharacteristically quiet while watching the transport ship slowly landing. When it hit the ground and the flight intake crew moved forward to help with debarking, he tossed Poe his signature grin.

“Ready, Flyboy?”

Poe laughed, “What does that even mean?” He glanced down at his shirt, straightening it for the tenth time before smoothing his hair carefully. “It’s been two years, I’d have gone to pick her up myself if they would have let me.”

“That’s my point,” His friend replied smoothly, raising a brow at Poe, who gazed back at his best friend, bewildered. “Two years apart, barely been able to speak with her, you keep her picture in your inner pocket here,” He tapped Poe over the heart, where the picture would be if he was in his flight suit, “You two are the most clueless lovebirds, I swear. Don’t hold back on my account.”

Glancing at the ship to see the ramp still hadn't lowered, Poe frowned, a rush of emotions swirling within. “You...uh, knew how I-?”

Charlie clapped Poe on the shoulder, “Isn’t there a term for it? Soulmates, I think. Yeah.”

“Charlie, I don’t think-“

Charlie rolled his eyes, “I’m not saying anything else about it, don’t worry. Just wanted you to know I understand why you took so long picking the perfect shade of sand shirt to wear under your jacket.”

Poe hummed in response, stunned by the casual way his friend spoke like everything was inevitable. He wasn’t so sure, though he’d always thought the term ‘soulmate’ could apply to platonic relationships. And while he was pretty sure he’d never just felt platonic toward you in any sense, Poe wasn’t going to get his hopes up that you actually may return his feelings.

Two years ago, Poe had held you the entire night before his and Charlie’s departure for D’Qar, cried along with you over how impossible it felt to part, to not see each other every day when his life had been wrapped around yours since as long as he could remember. He had left a part of himself there with you on Yavin-4, and now you were about to disembark your transport ship and unknowingly hand it back to him by simply being with him, real and tangible.

He was nervous to see you, he didn’t know why. Maybe Charlie’s words were only highlighting Poe’s own concerns now that you were mere moments away. He had barely even been able to get in contact with you for two years, he and Charlie were far enough away and regularly over-worked that it was impossible to do as much as they both would have liked. What if you climbed off of this ship as a completely different person? Perhaps things wouldn’t be as easy and natural between you both now, after so long apart. 

He’d gotten through these past two years without you knowing he would always have his memories of you, that before he knew it you would be with him-and Charlie-again, and new memories could be made. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Regardless, the last thing Poe was going to do when he finally had you back was confessing his feelings and risk fucking everything up straight off the cuff. He’d lived with these feelings for a long time, he could continue to do so now.

Lost in his thoughts, Charlie suddenly stood taller next to Poe, who glanced at his friend to find he was beaming toward the transport ship. Following his gaze, he first saw that the ramp was down and many of the passengers were now splitting away meeting friends and family. It only took him a moment from then to locate you.

The moment his eyes landed on you, excitedly bouncing down the ramp with a duffel bag over your shoulder, eyes searching wildly around, Poe felt every single worry melt, and a heavyweight on his shoulders seemed to lift away. You still looked like you, and stars were you ever beautiful, the loveliest woman-because, you were a woman now, not a kid, not a goofy teenager-he’d ever laid eyes on. He drank you in, during those moments you hadn’t yet spotted Charlie’s waving arm. Two years had given your curves a new classification, a reverence within Poe rising as he gazed briefly in surprise at the swell of your breasts, the fullness in your hips.

He could...drop to the ground right here and declare his undying love for you, just for coming back to him with that same fucking perfect smile. Just for the way your eyes finally found him and Charlie and you lit up like a sun, bathing everyone lucky enough to be within your presence in your warm glow. It was a fucking sight, a moment that he would never forget; you grinning and then hurrying forward through the crowd. Your duffel bag hit the ground just seconds before you were throwing yourself toward your brother and Poe, who each expected exactly what you would do and easily stepped forward and caught you. Crushing you between them in an embrace that felt so whole, so entirely right. Poe felt for the first time in two years as though he were home.

Wherever in the galaxy Poe went, if he had you with him it would be home.

“Oh stars, kriffing STARS,” You were squealing, an arm wrapped behind each of their necks to hold yourself up, your lips peppering warm kisses between them each, “I’ve missed you both so much, my best guys!” You had a few happy tears on your cheeks now, Poe noticed when you leant your head to his and pressed your forehead to his own, repeating the affectionate greeting with Charlie.

“Kid, fuck it’s good to see you,” Charlie’s voice was thick with emotion, but his eyes were much drier than both yours and Poe’s. “How was the trip?”

“Maker, Charlie, Poe-you’re both so tall!” You laughed, realizing you were dangling a few inches above the ground as they held on to you. Poe liked the way he could feel your laughter as your body moved against him; as though you were passing it to him. “The trip was fine, crap food but I had a nice elder lady as my seat-mate. Reminded me of mum.”

They set you down, though Charlie was stroking your hair out of your face and Poe kept his hand on your waist, unable to let you go and lose the sensation of you finally, finally in his arms again. He never wanted to be apart from you for that long again, not if he could help it. 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it home for mum’s funeral,” Charlie murmured, an apology he’d repeated many times since your mother’s passing a few months prior.

“Hey,” You smiled sadly, “You two spent a lot of credits to holo-call in for it, that meant a lot to me. You know mum would have been livid if you’d abandoned your duties just for her.” Still, a few more tears slipped down your cheeks and Poe reached up with his free hand to gently wipe them away as Charlie nodded solemnly, opening his mouth to respond when-

“Horn! Hey, come meet my brother!” The three of you glanced around, Poe recognizing one of the mechanics Charlie was friendly with waving him over. Pressing a quick kiss to your temple and assuring you he’d be right back, Charlie hurried away to greet the mechanic and his brother.

When you turned to peer back up at Poe, your grin wide and eyes seemingly doing their own assessment of him, he realized that this was now the first time you’d been alone together since that night two years ago. Feeling his face flush, Poe tugged you close against him and pressed his lips to the top of your head. You certainly hadn’t gotten any taller yourself, now especially small in his embrace. Something about the realization settled warm in his belly, but he pushed the thoughts away.

“Missed you so much, sweetheart,” He whispered, pulling back slightly to look down into your eyes again. Your expression was a little shy, as though you were pleasantly caught off guard by his affection, “How have you been, really?”

You had your hands pressed against his chest as you smiled up at him. “Good, glad to be here finally. Yavin-4 didn’t feel like home anymore after mum,” You trailed off, eyes falling and brightening somewhat as you gazed at his chest. “Poe, you got uh,” You slide your hands across the expanse of him and Poe had to work to keep himself from gasping at the sensation of it as heat coiled within him, “Like, big? Broad. Wow, oh and less scruffy, too!” You added, eyes swinging back up to his clean-shaven jawline.

Poe made a noise of embarrassment at your words, smiling at you shyly. Reaching up with one hand, you stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Dousing fuel on the fire within him, the motion was so second nature, intimate, comforting, that he really could have gathered you in his arms right there and pressed his lips to yours. He wanted to ask you if you realized how much he fucking loved you, if you had any idea what you did to him, body and soul and mind consumed and controlled by you and only ever you.

Instead, taking a deep breath, Poe shifted himself away from you casually, leaning at the same time to bring his head level to yours, his nose scrunched, “And you are exactly as short as I remember. Actually, might be shorter with my extra couple of inches now.”

“Rude,” You laughed, playfully smacking his shoulder, whatever tension that had just been present now gone. Your eyes strayed away from Poe’s to look all around at what you could see of the Rebel base here on the tarmac, your gaze landing almost hungrily on a nearby x-wing before jumping to watch as several flew overhead; the current patrol.

He watched you in adoration as you drank in your first real glimpse of the Resistance, your eyes widened in wonder and excitement that Poe had felt too the moment he’d arrived on D’Qar.

But in truth, it didn’t compare to what he was feeling right now.

Poe reached up and stroked your cheek, “Welcome home, (y/n).”  

MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER

“Commander.” You stepped out of the cockpit, your hands twisting in front of you nervously. Poe looked up from where he sat on the bottom bunk. “We’re safely in hyperspace. Autopilot engaged.” You kept your voice soft, as if afraid he would startle.

Or maybe you were afraid of him now. He wouldn’t blame you.

Rather than replying, Poe simply made a noise that was meant to be confirmation he had heard you but it came out strangled enough that it sounded like he was in pain. And he was in agony but he was trying to hold it all back, figure out how to forget.

Did there exist a plant that could make him fucking forget?

He watched as your face twisted before you dropped to your knees in front of him, his body stiffening when you pushed between his legs. Your hands came to rest gently on his cheeks as Poe met your eyes, their expression mirroring his own; pain, regret. But there was something more there, though it hurt him to see it: concern.

“Poe,” Your voice was soft and Poe felt himself tremble in response, unwilling to accept your kindness. “Please, Poe. You didn’t do anything wro-“

Poe jerked himself out of your hold, leaning back as you remained crouched before him, your hands falling to his thighs to keep steady. “Didn’t do anything wrong?” He breathed, watching you look up at him. “I keep hurting you. All I do is hurt you, (y/n). Don’t tell me everything is okay.”

MISSION DAY FOUR

Desire.

It was...the only thing you could feel anymore. All there was. Nothing else in your mind, like it had been scraped of every memory, every morsel of you and the only thing that remained was this burning, intense thirst. It was fucking incredible, there was no pain anymore, the heat felt like it belonged, that you were designed for the sole purpose of allowing it to burn you. When you set your gaze to the man before you, you could see that he was burning too.

Poe, with his dark eyes and heaving chest, moved quickly-almost too quickly, and you wondered if the pollen gave humans a physical boost. It would make sense because when he was suddenly lifting you and thrusting you against the stone wall, you didn’t feel it. There was only pleasure, no pain, no disorientation, but fuck the feel of his hands finally on you was exactly what you needed. The relief of his touch was enough to have you craving more, more now, now!

As if reading your mind, he was swiftly peeling your layers of gear off, ripping and tossing the material, tugging off your boots, one hand holding you against the wall and it wasn’t until he was sliding your pants down that you realized you were dangling a few feet above the ground. So there was definitely some juice to the pollen. Something about that realization made your toes curl in anticipation.

“Please, please fuck me, I can’t wait another minute,” You heard yourself begging, and dark Poe smirked, pulling his clothing off before adjusting his grip on you. Now, his hand slid down to roughly hold your ass, pressing his body against yours so closely you were supported between him and the wall. You wrapped your legs around his hips, moaning at the feel of his erection pressed into your thigh, and you glanced down to watch as he lined himself up with your cunt.

And stars, he was huge, the biggest you’d ever had. Thick and veiny, you let out the filthiest moan just looking at his cock, your sounds morphing into screams when he tilted his hips and thrust into you completely in one swift motion. Filling you. Growling as he claimed you entirely.

It should have hurt. Even with how wet you were, being split open and filled so brutally should be agonizing but it felt amazing. You could hear yourself demanding he never stops once he began a fast, harsh pace. Your head knocked back into the wall and you still felt no discomfort, not with dark Poe surrounding you, filling you so perfectly. One of his hands did shoot up and grip your jaw, pressing your head into the wall so that you couldn’t look anywhere but at him.

He was feral, his expression greedy and dangerous and it only made you clench around him. “Fuck,” He groaned both hands tightening their hold on your hip and face, “G-going to fucking ruin you for any other cock, little girl. Fucking brat, always so mean, and now you’re begging for me to fill you up, aren’t you?”

You were delirious with pleasure, his words shot straight to your pussy, but you still managed to reply. “Want you to...fill me up, use me, just n-never stop fucking me.” He growled at your words and pressed his lips to yours, his hand on your jaw forcing your mouth to open so that he could lick into you, taste you and swallow your whimpers and moans for more. After a few minutes of this pace, you felt the coil you hadn’t realize was tightening suddenly snap, and you gushed all over his cock as you had your first orgasm.

“Oh maker, I’m cumming, fuck!” But even as you came, crashing through wave after wave, dark Poe didn’t let up and you didn’t feel even remotely spent. An orgasm of that magnitude should have had you passing out; instead, you screamed for more.

+

Poe couldn’t get enough of your body, tight pussy clenched around him as he took you in every position. He didn’t feel tired, sore, and despite having already filled you several times with his seed, his erection hadn’t worn off. You allowed him to roughly handle you into whatever pose he felt like, though you would curse if he took too long, and then mewl when he’d enter you again and begin harshly pounding you. Those dark eyes of yours always focused on him, taunting him. Begging him to claim you.

He was behind you on the floor now, one hand gripping your hip and the other pressed into your lower back, forcing you to arch for him. You were screaming for more even as he relentlessly slammed into you and he only grinned at the idea of giving you what you wanted. He smacked your ass to punctuate every other word, “So fucking tight! Such a good little slut, taking all my cum, you want more now?” He slapped you one last time as his hips slowed, his orgasm tearing through him and pulling another from you and he cursed aloud at how fucking good it felt when you squeezed his cock during your high.

“More, fuck, more!” You whined moments later, even as his forward thrusts forced out the excessive amount of cum he’d filled you with. It was hot, the visual alone enough to hold his attention as you wiggled against him and begged.

“Good little slut, taking me so well,” He moaned, leaning over your back and nipping marks into your neck. When he rose back up, he pulled you with him so that you were flush against his chest as he picked up the pace again. The new angle seemed to hit something inside you differently, as your renewed screams were filling the room within seconds. “Such a perfect body, look at these tits.” He whispered into your ear, one hand cupping your breast and pinching your nipple.

You came again, drenching his cock and before you even stopped moaning from the high you were asking for more.

And fuck, he was going to give you more.

+

Hours, it had definitely been hours. At least six, you thought, if the light from filtering from the hall was anything to go by. The sun was different on this planet, never fully setting, so from your best knowledge you guessed Poe and you had been fucking for a good six hours, minimum.

It wasn’t enough. You hoped it never stopped. Maybe it wouldn’t.

It still didn’t hurt. Each orgasm wasn’t yet enough. You could see rather than feel the bruises on your skin, the cuts on your knees and hands from the rough ground. Even when Poe spanked you, the bite was momentary and delicious. This high was simply incredible. The sensation of him coating your insides with thick ropes of cum was forever engrained in your mind now.

You were riding him now; had been for the last few orgasms. He liked letting you do the work even though it didn’t feel like work-and watched as you rolled your hips and bounced for him, his hands occasionally reaching up to play with your tits. When he would come, he would grab your hips and slam you down, his strength preventing you from moving as he filled you deep, usually pulling your orgasm along with him because he was just so fucking sexy groaning for you.

“Like riding me, little girl?” He growled, releasing your hips and allowing you to start moving again. This time, you braced your hands on his chest so that you could change the angle, moaning when his thick cock dragged along your walls in the most perfect way. Kriff.

“Love it, never stopping,” You gasped, the room loud with the noises you each made and the sounds your cum stuffed pussy made each time he entered you. “Fuck, so fucking good.”

You sunk yourself onto his cock for a long time, watching his face as he filled you over and over, and still, it wasn’t enough.

Was it ever going to be enough?

+

Poe could see you were cock drunk, your grasp on Basic slipping to the point where you simply whimpered out short phrases, some of them entirely unintelligible. It was incredible, seeing you bent over the table, stuffed full of his cock and unable to articulate properly how good it felt.

“Oh fuck, here you go, take my cum,” He snapped his hips forwards and came, his grip on your hips like steel, holding you in place to take every last drop. You came moments later, your orgasm soaking him and dragging his out again. After just a moment, he readjusted you, lifting one of your legs onto the table and holding it there, his other hand sliding up your back and pressing to the back of your neck, pinning you.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” You screamed when he started up again. He smirked, enjoying the sound of his body slapping against yours. From the way he held you, Poe had his wrist comm directly in his line of sight. After a moment, he registered the time on the display and realized that you’d been fucking for twelve hours, give or take. Twelve hours.

“Fuck, been fucking you all day little girl, filling you with my cum for fucking hours and hours,” He groaned, pressing you into the table even more. You whimpered in response, unable to speak. “Yeah, you love it, don’t you? Want more, come on I know you can speak, tell me you want my cum.”

“Uh, fuck I w-want, want your c-cum, please!”

“Yeah you do, fucking slut,” He picked up the pace again, then shot over the edge as you screamed, “Take my cum, take it, fuck.” Poe growled, still amazed at how tight you were, milking his cock perfectly every time. Once his orgasm subsided, he flipped you over onto your back and took a moment to gaze down at you.

Your black eyes were staring up at him hungrily, waiting for him to decide his next move. When you licked your lips, an idea popped into his head. He reached down and spun you so your head was at the edge of the table, your legs pointing away from him. He moved you so that your head just dangled over the edge, and then he pushed his fingers into your mouth, wetting them.

“Gonna put my cock down your throat, think you can handle that?” He said, grunting when your lips wrapped around his fingers and sucked a little. He was quick to replace them with his cock, one hand moving to hold under your head and the other guiding his length into your eager little mouth. “Fuck, yes.” He moaned, quickly setting a steady pace.

Once he had a rhythm going, Poe used the hand not supporting your head to place one of yours behind that one, “Tap, fucking hell yes, t-tap my hand if you need air, ah shit!” He just managed to give you the instructions before the overwhelming feeling of your mouth working on him so expertly had his balls pulling up and before he knew it, he was shooting his load down your throat.

You swallowed everything and then continued sucking him off as he fucked your face.

Thirteen hours.

+

He tasted delicious. You’d almost wished, when he shot that first load down your throat, that he’d started things out this way so that the taste of him was on your tongue the whole time. You made up for it by taking as much as you could, swallowing around his length as you pulled orgasm after orgasm from him.

Eventually, you were moaning around him enough that he realized it had been a while since you’d cum, and he pulled from your mouth. His dark gaze searched your cum covered face greedily before he climbed onto the table, pulling you up to lift you over his cock. He lowered you slowly onto him, the stretch exactly what you needed and so perfect that the moment you were fully seated you came, jerking in his arms.

You were in his lap, your legs wrapped around his back, and you briefly thought of how this was the most intimate position yet. Your chests pressed together, and he was expertly moving you in his lap, helping you to ride him.

His face was a breath away. You closed the gap.

He groaned when your mouth opened for him, letting his tongue taste the mixture of you and his spend. You squeezed his cock harder, you were so turned on, and it only took a few more rolls of your hips to feel yourself come undone again.

Your head felt heavy, so you let it fall into the crook of his neck, nuzzling.

“Oh yeah, so fucking good,” You whimpered, your arms around him, “Oh, Poe don’t stop!”

Poe.

Your Poe.

+

This is how...this is how he would have liked to be with you the first time, how he pictured it when he was younger. You straddling his lap, wrapped around each other as you rolled your hips and he pulled the most delicious sounds from you with his deep thrusts. It was intimate, the position allowing him to move between kissing you, holding you, licking your breasts, ensuring you were enjoying it as much as him.  

He could whisper sweet nothings into your ear this way, tell you he loved you and that he’d take care of you. And you would have liked it too, he knew, because you liked watching his face, reading his expressions every day and he knew that would have translated over to making love.

But this-this wasn’t making love, was it?

You had dropped your head down as you came again, your body curling into his as though for safety, comfort.

“Oh, Poe, don’t stop!”

He was going to cum again, the sound of his name on your lips for the first time hurling him over the edge, “Sweetheart, oh fuck, (y/n)!” He pressed your body into his and dropped his head to your neck, where he peppered it with gentle kisses as he spilled inside of you.

You both slowed your movements after coming down from your highs this time.

Poe felt himself panting, out of breath. You were panting too.

But why...why was he on the table? Poe leaned back slightly and you raised your head at his movement, your eyes meeting his. They weren’t as dark as before, but you looked tired. Poe felt tired, exhausted really.

You were still moving your hips, almost as if on autopilot. But you were frowning at Poe as you did, and then you winced. He froze, watching as you looked down at yourself, his eyes following yours.

“No...” He heard himself whisper in dawning horror. You were covered in marks; bruises or bites, hickies, red welts from places that looked like they’d been slapped.

They had been slapped. He had slapped you.

Poe felt himself softening inside you, a pain in his back and knees, his chest smarting as well. He glanced down and saw track marks from your nails down his chest. He didn’t even remember you doing that, it hadn’t hurt at the time. You whimpered, this time in pain and he looked back up into your eyes. They weren’t dark anymore. You were crying.

“Sweetheart-“ Poe faltered, shaking his head and trying to clear the clinging fog. You shifted a little and he slipped from inside of you. Both you and Poe groaned at the sensation, and you quivered as the mixture of fluids spilled out from inside you. “I-what happened...what did I do?”

Poe was sobbing now too.

It took some time to regain enough strength to move from the table, without the boost the pollen had provided you were both spent and every tired, aching muscle, bruise and bite mark or scratch could be fully felt now. Poe recovered first, easing himself to his feet and searching for the packs you’d each dropped when things...went dark.

You were panting on the table still, in much worse shape than he was and the rising panic inside of Poe was giving him the energy he needed to get to the medkits. He pushed through the pain in his limbs, thirst in his mouth and throbbing in his head-none of it mattered right now, not when you were suffering. He glanced at his wrist comm as he unzipped the medkit and realized, with horror, that it had been fourteen hours. Fourteen hours of brutal, relentless, rough sex.

The plant hadn’t just taken away inhibitions, hadn’t made it impossible to resist one another, no it had obliterated both of you-pushed you both into the far recesses of your minds and forced you to watch as its pollen turned you into feral, angry animals with exactly one goal.

And it stole from you both, stole your consent, your right to chose, abilities to control the urges that were twisted by its potency. Warped into selfish desire, the need for release and control, as if it was some archaic mating ritual-mark, consume, dominate. It wasn’t real, none of it had been, each of you losing yourselves in a hopeless battle against the strength of the pollen. And Poe...he had been violent, mean, brutal. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been, but it was the unavoidable reality that he was much bigger and stronger, the boost of the pollen making it easy to manhandle you.

He would never forgive himself for harming you. For the things he said, the marks left all over your body. If he could have died instead, fought against the pollen and let whatever happened in that case happen, he would have. Ten times over, he would have.

Just like Charlie, he would have sacrificed himself in an instant to protect you.

But you had refused to run and told Poe that you didn’t want to die. At that moment, right as he was coiled to try and run from you, he realized that you could die too. There was no medical backup, no nearby crew to call for help. It was Poe and you and the bacta shots that would have been completely ineffective with the pollen pulsing through your systems. He had to give in, and the darkness had taken him over the moment he accepted it.

He remembers fleetingly thinking of all the times in his life he had let himself think of being with you intimately. Usually guilt-ridden, he pushed the thoughts away; as a teenager, he failed half the time, and as an adult, he tried to refocus on other women, but they never measured up. When his imagination did get the better of him, it was always, always tender. Soft, slow, sensual. Just the very idea of being the one pulling moans from your lips and taking care of you would send him over the edge.

But that wasn’t what happened here. It wasn’t a light high that lowered inhibitions and made the sex last longer, feel more intense. No, this was a sinister plant so potent it drove away each of your humanity and respect for one another, pulling pleasure for yourselves instead of giving it to one another.

It was cold and harsh, and Poe was devastated.

You whimpered suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts, his head shooting up to look toward where you were laying on the table. “Sweetheart?” He stood the medkit in hand and tried to swallow back his sobs as he moved toward you.

“S’okay,” You groaned, eyes pressed tightly shut, “Find the bacta?”

“Yes, I-“ Poe faltered as he stood at the edge of the table, his hands holding the bacta shot he’d pulled out. “Can I touch you, or do you want to try and-?“

“Poe,” You mumbled tiredly, “I’m okay, please just give me the shot.” You attempted to roll yourself to your side and expose your buttocks for him but only ended up sobbing in pain again.

Flinching, Poe reached out and gently, so incredibly carefully, helped you to twist your hips. He heard himself whispering words of comfort but focused on opening the shot and lining it up. When he plunged the needle into you and pressed down on the plunger, you let out a weak but relieved little moan. “You’re okay sweetheart, I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” He promised, tossing aside the bacta shot and brushing his fingers over your face comfortingly.

His shattered heart beat hopefully when you reached up and took hold of his hand, squeezing.

+

Poe was watching you race Charlie up an older tree, his strength no match for your agility as the smaller sibling. It was a lazy day, hot enough to warrant a day by the river-which was what most of the kids in their town on Yavin-4 had been thinking, it seemed. The banks of the river were piled with kids and teens as far as he could see, though thankfully the prestige of the Horn and Dameron families left your favourite spot along the water relatively free of unwanted guests.

A few friends were nearby, giving Poe his space as he sat leaning against a boulder. A book sat open in his lap, though he’d been distracted many times now thanks to his inability to control his thoughts around you. His father had assured Poe that it was natural at seventeen to have a wandering mind, a surge of hormones, he’d horrifyingly explained. He advised that should the thoughts and feelings become too intense, that Poe needed to take a few breaths, refocus elsewhere, remind himself of the person that deserved his respect and not his wayward thoughts.

But Poe didn’t have these thoughts or feelings or whatever the fuck about anyone but you. It had always been you, and though so far he’d managed to hide his emotional and physical feelings from your notice, it alarmed him in moments like this. When you revealed much more skin than usual in a simple water suit, hair and sun-kissed skin damp from the water, he worried he might slip up. He was as ashamed of the direction his thoughts would go in as he was sure that you would, for the rest of his life, be the only one he ever truly admired so ardently, loved so deeply that he fought to refuse to disrespect you with his hormone fuelled thoughts.

You gave a whoop when you reached the highest point the tree would allow, its trunk and branches thinning enough to make it unsafe to climb any further beyond. A friend of yours, Tahla, and a few of his buddies were nearby in the water, laughing and teasing you from below and jokingly daring you and Charlie to jump. It wouldn’t have been unsafe to do, so instead, you both laughed and began the slow climb down.

You were moving much more slowly than Charlie now, out of breath from the race and taking care not to scratch yourself. Your brother hit the ground, tossed Poe a smirk, then barrelled into the water to cool off. Poe rolled his eyes, laughing as Charlie started picking up some of the smaller guys and tossing them into the water. A game fondly, yet unofficially, referred to as tempting the bull.

Poe adjusted himself against the rock, trying to get comfortable but he felt warm enough now that he thought he should get in the water as soon as Charlie wore himself out enough not to be a threat. You were still a good way up the tree, now slowed even further as you had a conversation with one of Tahla’s friends that had come out of the water to chat with you. Frowning to himself, Poe watched as you continued a friendly banter and felt the clutches of envy reaching for him.

This seemed like a good enough excuse to close his eyes and take one of those deep breaths his father advised. First standing, Poe tugged off his shirt so that he could make his way to the water, then allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Taking half a breath in until the sound of a branch snapping and your scream halted him in his tracks. Poe’s eyes snapped open and then he was frantically running, too far away to do anything as you lost your grip and fell, slamming into the ground on your side and letting out a pained wail.

Poe briefly met Charlie’s wide eyes as they both ran for you from different directions. Panic reflected there, but Poe got to you first and his eyes moved to you. Annoyingly, the blonde who had been speaking to you-distracting you-was knelt over you and worriedly checking you over.

Poe pushed him away from you, “Don’t touch her,” He heard himself snarl, taking a threatening step toward the kid, who raised his hands in surrender, “Get the fuck-“

“Poe,” He halted in his tracks and spun at the sound of your tiny voice, his anger waning the moment he saw you clutching awkwardly at your arm, Charlie knelt beside you. It was like you hadn’t even noticed your brother, though, your eyes only on Poe, surprisingly intense as you stopped him from chasing down Tahla’s idiot friend. “I-I think my arm is b-broken.” You sniffled, eyes streaming, and flinched as some of the tears ran through the scratches on your cheek.

“Oh sweetheart,” He was kneeling in front of you seconds later, inspecting you all over for any more injuries, thankful when your head appeared to be free of any bleeding. He looked to Charlie, who read his thoughts instantly.

“Kid, I’ll run ahead and let the Healer’s know what happened, flyboy’s got you.” Charlie kissed the top of your head and ran off at full speed.

You let out another sob, this time revealing to Poe that your pride was as injured as your arm. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’m here, I’ll take care of you.” And with great care, he slid one arm under your legs, the other bracing your back, lifting you as he stood.

He carried you with great caution, moving a little slower than he’d prefer but, since you were still flushed and awake he figured jostling you too much would cause more damage than taking his time getting you to the healer.

“Were you gonna punch Raine, Poe?” You asked, still holding your arm carefully.

Poe grimaced, “He distracted you, should have waited till you were on the ground to bug you.” He replied tightly, not meeting your gaze as he didn’t want you to see in his expression how upset he was.

You sensed it, though, your good hand reaching up to stroke his jaw one, two, three times in a successful effort to soothe him.

“Raine isn’t all that distracting.” You murmured after a minute. Poe had to bite back a pleased smile, a little guilt bubbling up as a rogue thought tumbled in the back of his head that perhaps you had been looking at someone else when you became distracted.

+

Poe was a stubborn fucking man, this was something you’d always been keenly aware of, but at this moment you wanted to throttle him for it. You didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with him, though the bacta shot he’d given you had you feeling physically wonderful, it did nothing to help your mind.

And you were so weary, all you wanted to do was sleep but his refusal to receive his bacta shot was preventing that from happening. You just needed to close your eyes for a few hours and let your brain process everything that had happened.

“Poe, there’s no reason for you to say no to the shot. You know I have to do it, it’s my directive-“

“And as your Commander,” He cut you off, pushing the hand that held the shot away, “I’m ordering you to not follow the directive. I’m fine. Don’t need it.”

And he wouldn’t even look at you now, his eyes everywhere but yours, his expression tight. Stubborn, stupid flyboy!

You considered how to convince him, realizing the arguments you had used so far were ineffective. “Poe, I don’t know anything about this pollen.” You stepped up to stand in front of him at the table, both of you now dressed in fresh clothing, skin scrubbed with medical towelettes, though you both needed to take showers urgently. You stunk.

Poe glanced at you nervously as you came into his space, and you wanted to cry at how he looked afraid of you. Afraid to move, because he might hurt you. You could see him taking the last few years and pushing it all into this fucking day, convincing himself that he hurt you again, that it was somehow his fault.

You’d really done a number on him. Your heart filled with sorrow.

“I feel fine.”

You set the shot down on the table next to where he sat, then reached up and grabbed his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. He flinched at your touch, his body going rigid. “Poe, baby please let me do this,” His brows shot up in surprise at the sincere concern in your voice, the tenderness of your hands on his face, “If for no other reason, to at least prevent cardiac arrest or...or a relapse.” You didn’t want to say this aloud, but you knew that just because you’d been exposed to the pollen once didn’t make either of you immune to its effects. The bacta would ensure that nothing further happened while you were on the planet.

“What?” His voice was sharp, “Are you saying I could...that I might-“

You shook your head, “I’m saying I don’t know, and anything is a possibility if you don’t take the shot.”

Poe sighed heavily, his eyes closing as he gave you a small nod. Wordlessly, he stood and you dropped your hands, picking up the bacta shot as he undid his belt and pushed one side of his pants down just enough to reveal his buttocks. Wasting no time, you plunged the shot into his skin and let out a breath of relief at his sound of content. Without thinking, you placed your free hand on his lower back in comfort.

“Thank you, Poe.”

He fixed his pants and glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression painfully dejected. You wanted to hold him. Instead, he took a few measured steps across the room and stooped to pick up both of your packs, no longer meeting your eyes. You sighed.

“Let’s find somewhere to get a few hours shut-eye.” He said, leading the way out of the room.

You followed him, glancing over your shoulder at the room one last time, your heart ten times heavier than it had been before you entered it.  

+

It didn’t take long to find a room with a few bunks, you and Poe each falling to an empty bed and falling asleep in a matter of moments. You were able to get a few hours, waking up feeling surprisingly refreshed, one of the helpful effects of the bacta shot. You were on your back and blinked up at the base of the upper bunk for a few moments, confused as to why you’d awoken. A sharp, suppressed sob pulled your attention to the bed just across from you, though Poe’s back was to you, you could see his shoulders shaking. He was crying.

It happened then, a monumental shift inside of you that was like seeing your whole life flash before your eyes. Only it was all Poe, every single moment of your life interwoven with him because he had always been there, always been absolutely everything to you. Seeing him across the room from you, trying to hide his pain again. Something in the core of your being shifted. You had to bite back a gasp as you felt several years of pent-up anger and pain begin to melt away until you were left raw, trying to reconcile how you had let your relationship with Poe get to this point, and even why you ran in the first place.

Maker, you were awful. Charlie would be ashamed of you, he loved Poe like a brother and you had been nothing but cruel these last couple of months. Another choked back sob cut through the air and you wanted to walk over to Poe and soothe his pain, assure him everything was okay. But it wasn’t, and you didn’t know how to even begin to try and repair everything between you and him, especially not after what had just happened.

But you did...you wanted your best friend back. Which meant you needed to do some serious thinking. And that couldn’t all happen right here during the mission. So you pretended to just be waking up, noisily to give him a moment to hide his tears and pushed everything else back-just for a little while longer.

Poe stilled, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head duck down, no doubt wiping his tears away. By the time you sat up, he was rolling over at pretending he had just woken up as well.

“Hey,” You gave him a small smile, then glanced at your wrist comm. “If we eat something and then start our search, we can be back at the ship in roughly four and a half hours.” Poe nodded in response, sitting up, and you watched him reach into one of the packs by the side of his bed. He pulled out two bottles of water and a couple of rations each, handing yours to you and carefully avoiding touching your skin as he did.

As much as you wanted to tell him you weren’t afraid of him, you knew this moment wasn’t the time to start the conversation. Instead, you ate in silence, Poe’s eyes on the floor and yours gazing at the walls, which had some basic Empire propaganda posted upon them.

After breakfast, you each suited up properly for exploring the facility and set out, wandering the halls cautiously in search of the main control room. It didn’t take too long to find, though you were held up trying to get the door to disengage. When your usual tricks didn’t work, you had to set up a charge and blow the door. You’d used these kinds of minor explosives plenty of times, retreating down the hall further than necessary as you counted down until detonation.

Surprising you, Poe suddenly spun from where he stood next to you and blocked your body protectively with his wider frame as the door was blown off of its hinges. He looked over your head, hands clenched at his sides, but he didn’t move until you leaned to look around him and confirmed it was safe to move in.

You felt as though your heart was sitting in the back of your throat now.

It was well preserved, evidently one of the first rooms to be locked up when the Empire forces abandoned this outpost. It was a treasure trove of intel and you excitedly got to work, breaking away from Poe to complete a safety sweep.

After completing a preliminary search of the room, you found the main control panel and, flipping through every piece of information you had in your brain on old technology, you started pulling it open to seek out where you could insert the data drive you’d brought. You were confident BB8 could crack through any ancient firewalls on any of the data you were able to recover. Poe was doing similar work at the stations' console across the room, working in silence but sometimes you could feel his eyes on you, looking away before you could catch his eye.

A while later and you were on your back under the console, seeking out the hidden panel that would give you access to the data bridge. It took a few minutes, but you finally found it and had to finagle it awkwardly with your nails, trying to pry the cover off. It gave a satisfying little ‘pop’ when you managed to free it.

And then it promptly fell straight onto your face.

It shot straight through your hands, the edge smacking off of the corner of your cheek before bouncing to the ground. “Fuck!” You cried, feeling the skin tear and warm blood pooling out.

Stars, you really were off your game.

Dabbing at the blood carefully with the sleeve of your shirt, you were suddenly dragged out from under the panel by your ankles. Before you could even question what was happening, Poe was leaning over you, his expression panic-stricken, only paling further when he saw the blood on your cheek.

“What happened?” His voice was frantic, hands hovering above you; it was an entirely uncharacteristic reaction for him that for a moment you could only stare up at him in surprise. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“I’m okay,” You assured him hurriedly, sitting up onto your elbows, “Just dropped that panel on my face.” You gazed at Poe as his eyes dropped from you to the panel now laying on the ground next to you. A modicum of relief swept over his features fleetingly.

Wordlessly, he reached into your nearby pack and pulled out a bacta-spray. When his hands raised toward your face, you watched as he hesitated briefly before he touched you, one hand wrapping around the back of your head to hold you steady, the other applying the bacta-spray.

Still holding you, he dropped the spray into the pack again and pulled out a bandage. “Turn your head for me, sweetheart.” He murmured, his eyes focused on your cheek.

You did as he asked and waited as he used both hands to apply the bandage over your skin. Peering up at Poe when he finished, you were touched by his gentle care, though you understood it was coming from a place of contrition more than anything. His fingers absentmindedly brushed downward, to ensure the edges of the bandage were sealed; you shivered involuntarily at the light contact.

Poe went rigid, his eyes meeting yours briefly in surprise before you glanced away, your face flushing. “Thank you.” You murmured, remaining still until he scooted back and stood, and then you were quickly pushing yourself back under the panel.

MISSION DAY SIX - ABOARD CRUISER

You sat back on your hunches, eyes on the man in front of you as he came apart, the emotions he’d tried hiding from you since that morning now spilling out. You were holding yourself steady by gripping his thighs and could feel the way his body was as rigid as durasteel. You looked at him and reminded yourself that this was what you would do to him if you left again, that leaving things unsaid and unresolved was never the answer.

“I hurt you, over and over,” His hands came to clench at his sides, gripping into the sheets of your bunk, “I said horrible things to you, at Charlie’s funeral and then since you’ve been back, and yesterday I-I can’t even-“

“Yesterday wasn’t you, Poe, it wasn’t either of us.” You interjected softly, urging yourself to remain exceptionally calm as he came undone.

He huffed, unimpressed with your argument, “Y-you and I, we lost everything the day Charlie died. But you kept it together, organized the funeral, smiled and hugged everyone who came up to us...all I could do was stand there and be angry at y-you even though I knew it wasn’t your fault,” Poe shook his head aggressively when you opened your mouth to interrupt, “No, you know it’s true, you even said it yourself. I failed you. And then you came back and I failed you again, let us drift further apart than we’d been when you were in a different galaxy. You lost your brother, and then I lost you both and I-I’m so, fuck (y/n), I am so sorry.”

And he sobbed, a retched, heartbreaking sob that almost knocked you off of your feet, it was so real and deep. You couldn’t help the tears that poured down your cheeks in response, and you were momentarily at a loss of how to respond. How could you even begin to help take away that much pain? When you were the fucking person who caused it?

Unsure of what else to do, you slid forward and in between his legs again, your hands moving to grip his forearms. You rubbed up and down soothingly and held him harder when he tried to pull away.

“You shouldn’t be near me, not after w-what I’ve done to you.” He gasped out, failing to move out of your grasp but continuing to struggle. It was a testament to his fear of causing you harm that he simply didn’t push away, as the stronger person.

“Neither of us had any choice, Poe, we were both covered in that pollen. And,” You moved your head to catch his eye, to ensure he heard your next words, “And Poe, I was the one who tackled us into that bush, who forgot the map they studied for two days that showed that cliff. Do you blame me for what happened?”

Poe almost glared at you, stilling, “Of course I don’t blame you-“

“Then understand that I don’t blame you either, Poe, fuck.”

“(y/n),” His voice dropped, thick with emotion, “You said...right before I-you said that you didn’t want to die. When you put it like that, I knew it meant you understood what was happening but hadn’t heard of a plant this powerful and didn’t know if you could die if we didn’t...” He paused, shaking his head. He looked at you then, through tear-soaked lashes, an expression so full of sorrow you stopped breathing. “That was the only reason I stayed with you. I was fighting it, I was going to make a run for it when you wouldn’t. I wanted to run, let myself die because I could feel what the pollen was making me want to do to you and fuck, it scared me. What I did to you yesterday was horrific. Unforgivable. Everything I’ve done to you is.”

Suddenly, you were angry, his words registering in your brain like an explosion, “Shut up,” You growled, harsh enough to catch him off guard and he was peering at you in surprise, eyes searching your face in confusion. “Don’t ever, ever say-I can’t believe you...why would you want to die, Poe? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think I could survive you dying? That I would want to live in a galaxy where you and Charlie were both gone? I left, I know, but I always knew you were at least alive!”

Poe gaped at you in shock, looking as though you had just slapped him awake, cleared the fog from his brain. Before you knew what was happening, he reached down for you and gripped your waist before dropping to his knees on the ground with you, crushing you into a tight embrace. His head dropped into the crook of your neck, and you wondered how you ever could be trusted enough for this strong, capable man to let himself become so vulnerable for you.

“Didn’t mean it,” He murmured, nuzzling your neck slightly as you instinctively run your fingers through his hair. “I promise I won’t leave...if you don’t want me to, I won’t leave you.”

You remained in Poe’s arms for some time, the silence was no longer heavy with anger but rather thick with emotion. And stars, you had forgotten what being held by Poe was like, the warmth and safety his arms had always surrounded you with. You let yourself forget; instead, you’d spent these last few years painting a picture of Poe Dameron with only the medium of his final words to you, resulting in an ugly, distorted image that served to fuel your pain, your resentment.

In doing this, you had forgotten how complex Poe was, how he acted cocky, snarky, but deep down he was a serious, earnest man with a heart of gold. He let himself feel, didn’t try to hide his emotions from you or Charlie growing up, he cried when you cried and...and fuck, the one time he messed up and let his emotions get the better of him, you fled and didn’t look back. You didn’t let him apologize, and you knew even if he had found you straight after your fight you wouldn’t have listened.

You abandoned Poe because you had been afraid, a coward if there ever was one in this situation. And you weren’t just running from the loss, you were running from feelings you didn’t understand the depth of until you lost your brother. Because there was this moment, it was so brief, fleeting, but for just one moment you had been relieved that Poe hadn’t died during the Gold team mission.

And what did that make you? Not only a coward for running but a monster for thinking it in the first place. Instead of dealing with any of your feelings, your grief, you took the easy route and fled literal constellations away, severing ties with the one man in the whole galaxy who mattered to you anymore because you were terrified of how fucking in love with him you had been, and how your brother dying was what made you realize it.

+

Poe had let you shower first, taking time while you were in the fresher to collect all of the items from the mission and put them in an airtight container. He didn’t want to risk any of the pollen getting onto either of you again. Once he’d done that, he put on a fresh pot of caf and was halfway through his first cup when you emerged, hair down in long, damp tendrils, wearing another of Charlie’s old shirts and some worn jersey shorts.

“Oh, maker, caf!” You groaned happily, eagerly accepting the cup he’d poured for you and taking a long swell, eyes closed. Poe watched you, his mind still reeling over everything that had occurred in the last day.

You had been acting so much like the you he remembered, the person he’d grown up with-so kind-hearted, understanding. It was overwhelming to try and process what had happened with the pollen while navigating this shift in his relationship with you. For the first time in a long time, Poe felt as though his best friend was coming back to him.

“Did you,” He paused, gauging your reaction to his voice, but you just observed him over your mug, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Did you keep a lot of Charlie’s things?” If you were upset by the question, it didn’t show. You considered his words, nodding.

“I did, at first. I left so quickly that I didn’t have time to grab anything of his...Tommy and Rico boxed everything for me and kept it stored until I was reassigned.” Your expression tightened at the memory, “I had a few weeks off, I planet hopped to some of Charlie’s favourite spots, then once I was settled in at my new assignment had everything brought over. I kept a lot of his shirts, personal effects. Just donated his pants, really.”

Poe smiled, “I guess there were some very happy big and tall men that found those pants at the shelter.” Cheesy, he cringed internally.

But you laughed, a genuine little giggle just for Poe, one he’d heard a million times before but it had been so long, emotion bubbled up within him and his smile faltered; he glanced away, hoping you wouldn’t notice his shift in mood.

“What is it?”

Poe sighed, mildly amused at your familiar behaviour. You never did let him get away with hiding things if you could help it. Rather than explain how much it meant to him to be standing there with you, laughing, he swivelled the conversation, one last thing on his mind.

“I’m going to say something, and then if you want to just close this conversation after I do, I’m good with that, okay?”

You tilted your head curiously, giving him a little nod, “Sure.”

Poe looked away from you, staring down into his mug as he considered how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I know it was the pollen, all of it,” He took a deep breath, willing his brain to make itself useful, “I still need you to hear me say this: the things I said to you during...while we were under it-I wouldn’t ever say anything like that to you, (y/n). They were mean and filthy, crude words I’ve never...would never...not that we would, I mean, shit.” He ran a hand over his face, holding over his forehead as his frustration with himself grew.

“Poe?” You said after a pause, and he glanced up. Your expression was exceptionally understanding, “The same goes for me. The scratching too wasn’t me. And,” Your lips quirked, “I think I called you Commander a few times, and please know I do not call people by their rank during sex, stars.”

Poe chuckled, “Obviously, that would be fucking embarrassing,” Your smile widened at his response. “It’s just important to me that you know I would never think or enjoy saying mean and degrading stuff like that about a woman, about you.”

You nodded and bit your lip, “I’ve always known that, Poe.” Pausing to take another deep drink of your caf, you then pointed with your free hand to your right forearm, “Also, um, I have an implant so we...that is, I’m not going to, uh...” You trailed off awkwardly.

His eyes widened in horror, realizing he hadn’t thought beyond the potential emotional consequences of what had happened. “Shit, are you sure?”

You nodded vigorously when his gaze fell to your stomach before meeting yours again, “No sex pollen babies.” Each of you looked away at the same moment, embarrassed.

After a few minutes of quiet, Poe looked back down at you. You were standing next to him, leant against the counter and staring unseeingly in front of you. “Sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocused and met his, “Y-yeah, Poe?”

He moved slowly, careful not to startle you. Using his free hand, he cupped the back of your head and lowered his own to press your foreheads together, an affectionate display you had both done since you were little. He felt you relax into it, and for a minute everything was quiet and peaceful and safe.

Poe felt like his shattered heart wasn’t in so many pieces anymore.

And then you reached up with your hand and stroked along his jaw one, two, three times. Just like that, he felt you come back to him.

Poe smiled to himself, getting lost in the feeling.

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