#this is my first ever attempt at a dutch door!!

[adventuringblind]

Mr. Blue Sky

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes, I loved every second of this. Y'all are welcome to send me your own ideas :)

Summary: After Max gets cheated on, he can't stand being in the house where it happened. Reader and Charles take him in and show him he's still loved.

Warnings: cheating

Notes: No hate to Kelly. I just needed this as a plot point.

Fun fact: my mom calls Valentine’s Day ‘legislative love day’ and will only do any remotely related activities on the 15th because she has a point to prove.

Masterlist

The sound of Charles' phone buzzing at an ungodly hour is what you woke up to. The room is still pitch black, and you can hardly make out Charles in the bed.

He rolls over and pucks up the phone. "It's Max." He states. Voice filled with the sleep from which he was dragged.

He answers the phone, and you curl up into him, hoping to listen in. "Max? Are you-"

You can hear faint mumbling and the occasional choked sob on the other end of the line. "Breathe, Max. I'm going to come get you. Can you stay on the phone with me?" Charles is throwing off the covers and looking for his car keys.

You look at Charles for some sort of answer. To which Charles pulls the phone away from his ear and kisses your head. "Kelly cheated. I'm going to go get him."

You nod your head in understanding. You clamber out of bed and see Charles off to the door.

Your grateful that Monte Carlo is a small city and that it doesn’t take long for him to come back. His body shouldering a drunk Max through the door.

Max is no coherent and reeks of alcohol. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks tear stained. His lips tremble as them mutter words neither of you can understand.

Your heart hearts for him. You and Charles had made an effort to be around the Dutch. You both actively became friends with him and found yourselves in each others company often.

And did you both end up falling for the same pair of blue eyes? Yes.

It was actually Charles who brought it up first. You’d never considered the idea of being with more then one person. Then you got to know Max and you found yourself considering more often then you’d admit.

Neither of you knew if Max would ever be into that and neither of you wanted to ask. The possibility of ruining what is currently a good friendship was not on the to-do list. Plus, he had Kelly and P.

You shake of your thoughts and help Charles get Max into the guest bed. You and him do your best at cleaning him up and making him comfortable despite the fact he is less then cooperative.

When you two are finally back in your own bed, Charles sighs in pained defeat. “She cheated on him while he was out with P.”

You cringe in disgust. “Has it been going on long?”

“Apparently so. About four months.” Charles climbs further into the blankets and pulls you into his chest. “He gave her the apartment. He was out late because he didn’t know where to go.”

“We could offer him a place here for the time being.” You suggest. The slightest hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

“Pretty sure you are just wanting to see more of him.” He chuckles. “But yes, I think it’s a good offer until he figures things out.”

“Don’t lie, you stare at him all the time! You’re going to be the one who outs us.”

“Shush amour. I’m exhausted and I know you are also. Now sleep.”

~

The week brings interesting events. Max does take the offer to move in, though he’s been quiet and reserved since he started staying with you. Max, Charles, and Lando went back to, now Kelly’s apartment, to get his stuff.

He comes back into the house crying. His heart shattered and the apartment a mere reminder of the events that occurred.

Your grateful it’s the off season and Max will hopefully have some time to process before the start of the new season. You and Charles don’t push him and give him space when he needs. Though you also invade when you can see he’s spiraling. Desperate attempts at not letting him go into those dark places are often just you being in the same room as him.

~

By the time Christmas rolls around, he’s doing the slightest bit better. He’s been out of the room more and you haven’t had to force him to eat. He decorates the apartment with you and Charles.

It’s disastrous.

The three of you can’t stop laughing at the mess you’ve made of the decor.

The three of you spend Christmas Eve with Charles’ family. Max hadn’t wanted to go home to his less then festive father and Victoria was away with her in-laws.

You obviously weren’t going to leave him alone and Pascale had been thrilled when he said he’d come to dinner.

You could tell he felt awkward and out of place at first, but everyone did their best to make him feel welcome. Soon he was relaxing, sipping on his drink and engaging in conversation.

~

Christmas and new years had gone by to fast. January had now descended and the cold weather had yet to completely let up.

Originally you thought Max would be out by now. That he’d want his own space as soon as possible. It’s not like he couldn’t afford it. Yet he stayed and you and Charles welcomed him in.

Max was seemed like he was healing. His eyes had regained their light. The one they lost those first days of December. He definitely hadn’t moved one though. You and Charles could still hear the soft sniffles from his room at night.

He may be smiling, but he’s still broken hearted.

The most interesting new additions are the cats. The felines that are Max’s children. He would probably murder for his cats and become the next John Wick. There is something wholesome and sweet about his interactions with his pets.

Charles on the other hand has a bad relationship with animals in general. Small felines included. He like them, they just don’t like him back yet. Max has been letting him feed them until they realize he is nice.

You also have learned that you can share meal prep with Max. You’d banned Charles from it after he tried once and failed miserably. Max isn’t the best in the kitchen, but he helps out and cooks some nights.

~

February. The month of love.

Everything around reminds Max of what happened. How he will not be doing anything special for the holiday. He doesn’t even want to go out of the apartment and you and Charles have to drag him to go get fresh air.

The fateful day comes around and you and Charles have agreed to keep it small.

Corny, sweet, and romantic is Charles definition of a good day and treats you accordingly.

You try to get Max to come eat something but end up just leaving it at the door.

Despite what people may think, Max is romantic at heart. Charles learned this last year when the Monegasque asked him if he was doing anything with Kelly for the holiday.

You and Charles are lounging on the sofa with a movie playing in the background. His arm draped around you and mouth pressing silly kisses along your jaw.

“I can feel your worry radiating from here.” Charles stops his kisses and you roll your eyes at him in response.

“He’s not eaten all day and I’ve heard him crying. Just wish I could help is all.”

Charles hums in your ear. “We could see if he wants a distraction.” He punctuates his sentence with a cheeky smile.

“Charles Perceval Leclerc! You can not seriously be suggesting what I think you are.” You playfully bat his arm. “I highly doubt he would neither want that or like that.”

“How about we ask and then go from there.”

“I think you just want him to fuck you.” This time it’s your turn to give a cheeky smile.

~

This is definitely not how you envisioned asking Max about this would go. His teary eyes haven’t looked away from Charles since the pretty male started talking.

This left you in an odd place of trying to read his reactions and getting absolutely nothing.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to or if you’re not into it. We would completely understand.” Charles laughs but you can tell he’s nervous. His body language betrays him.

Max looks between the two of you like he’s considering something. “You’re telling me you’ve both been crushing on me since last year? And I didn’t notice?”

“You’re very oblivious at times.” You shrug.

“That’s fair but also not the point.” Max stands up out of the bed and starts pacing. “I just don’t understand why me. You two are amazing people and you’re so great together.”

“Y/N has a numbered list of reasons in her phone that we’ve created in case this ever happened.” Charles looks at you expectantly but Your already pulling up the list.

“-please don’t read it I’m already blushing and that will make it worse. Maybe one day but not now.”

All of you freeze at the fact he insinuated a future.

“Does this mean you like us back?” Charles almost purrs. He’s so flirty now but if this goes farther then just a confession tonight he’ll be stuttering and weak in the knees. You know from experience.

Max is the stuttering mess right now however. He’s lost all of his words and is simply gesturing with his hands.

“Breathe Maxy, take your time.” He manages a few and usable to get a grip on his thoughts.

“I’ve to confess something first.” You both look at him expectedly but don’t push him. “The reason Kelly cheated on me is because she’d found a journal of mine. It was a thing my therapist told me to do and so I did. When you two started coming around more, I fell hard. For both of you. I wrote about to hopefully understand myself better and get the thoughts out of my head but they stayed and I hated myself for it. She read it and thought I cheated first so she just did it back.”

He’s in the verge of tears again but you and Charles can only stare I’d utter disbelief. Apparently, both of you are also oblivious.

“Please say something.”

“I think it must be fate.” Again that smirk is tugging at Charles lips.

The air in the room is replaced by a new tension. The kind Charles was originally insinuating before you three started talking.

“So about that proposal then…”

Valentine’s Day definitely couldn’t have ended any better.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #angst #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #redbull racing #formula racing #charles leclerc fic #f1 #scuderia ferrari #max verstappen x charles leclerc #lestappen #redbull f1 #redbull #ferrari formula one #orange army #forza ferrari #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc imagine

[wizard-on-whales]

Whiskey and Tea (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

No warnings just fluff

Word Count - 1500

------------------------

Arthur Morgan was a powerhouse of a man, but even those needed to rest now and then. But the thought of that seemed to escape not only his understanding but also several other members of the gangs as well. You watched as he came in and out of camp at all times of the day. He was always out fetching things for others and hardly ever got time to himself. The second he did usually ended in Miss. Grimshaw or Dutch hassling him for being lazy or someone asking him for a favor. Even after everything Arthur had done for everyone, he could hardly get a second of peace. 

You were sitting at the fire, your hands occupied with the piece of wood you were attempting to carve into a figure for Jack. Arthur had been in camp for a few hours, busying himself with chores others avoided, like carrying the haybales or fetching water for the wash station. Finally, he decided to sit across from you at the fire. Arthur watched the flames burn, the embers swirling into the sky, mixing with the colors of the oncoming dusk. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion, and the heavy bags under his eyes made you question when he had last slept. He let out a noticeable sigh and wiped his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes slightly. The dance of the fire and soft lullaby from Javier's guitar seemed to be rocking him to sleep. Not long after he sat down, Dutch decided to waltz up to him, a plan clearly in mind. 

“Come on, Arthur, get that man of action back! Get out there and do something! I've got a lead you can check out for me.” You felt anger rise in your chest, and your hands clutched the carving in your hand tightly, your knuckles turning white. You had to physically hold back from chucking the object at Dutches head. Arthur hesitated for a moment before sighing and getting up from his spot, not wanting to disappoint his halfway father figure. 

“Sure, what is it?” Arthur listened to Dutch rattle off whatever idea he had as the two of them walked away from the fire. After they were done speaking, Arthur marched towards his horse, stopping to brush her off first. Before he could mount and head off, your own idea formed. 

You hadn't been with the gang long, only a few months. Dutch and Arthur had been the ones who found you tied up in a cabin in the freezing mountains of the grizzlies. Bounty hunting was a risky job. You knew that and were willing to take the risks, but you also know you made a mistake going after Colm. The Van Der Lindes luckily went after him only a few days after you and attacked the camp they had set up in an abandoned town, finding you in the process. Despite Arthur saving you, the two of you had hardly spoken. But it didn't take much observing to realize Arthur wasn’t exactly the chatty type. 

“Arthur!” You called out, watching him turn your way, “Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah,” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and adjusted his hat, “Dutch asked me to help him with something.” 

“Well, before you run off, could you help me with something first?” Arthur thought about it before putting the brush in his hand back down.

“I suppose, whatchu need, girl?” Instead of answering him, you smiled happily and walked off in the opposite direction, hoping he'd follow. Which, of course, like a lost puppy, he did. You marched right through the front doors of Shady Bell, up the old, rotting stairs, and into Arthur's room, “Why we goin’ to my room? We gonna need ammo or somethin’?

“Or something,” You walked up to his bed and sat on the edge, patting the spot next to you. He gave you a dazed look, tilting his head quizzically, but compiled and sat down. 

“You know…I ain't a good therapist if you're wanton’ to talk about somethin’,” He rubbed his sweaty palms across the fabric covering his knees. 

“I ain't here to talk, Arthur,” You brought your hands up to his shoulders, your fingers slowly massaging the tight muscles hiding under his clothes. He tensed at first but quickly relaxed under your touch, “You're always running off doin’ things for people, but you never give yourself time to relax. I ‘bout shot Dutch when he came up to you at the fire.”

“So you dont really want nothin’?” Arthur didn't look at you but instead closed his eyes and leaned in closer to you. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and felt his breath catch in his throat. Arthur had found you exceptionally attractive from the second he laid eyes on you. And he had spent the last few months avoiding you because of it. He knew trying to speak to you would mean flushed cheeks and unclear sentences, so he kept to himself. But now, here you were, sitting on his bed, giving him a massage, and he was too damn tired to feel flustered or to really realize what was happening. 

“I do want somethin’... I want you to relax and get some sleep for once in your goddamn life. Take your vest off,” Arthur didn't say anything in response but did as he was told and took the vest off. He could feel your fingers working at the tight knots better now that it was just the thin fabric of his shirt left. The two of you sat in silence for a while as your hands traveled up and down his back, occasionally stopping just to scratch your nails across it. You could tell Arthur was slowly nodding off. 

“Darlin’?” You say sweetly, pulling him out of his trance. He just hummed in response, “You wanna lay down?”

Arthur nodded and stretched before finally opening his eyes and looking at you. You gave him a soft smile and reached up, pulling his hat off before setting it on the small table he had next to his bed and lying down. You patted your chest, offering it as a pillow, which he gladly accepted and laid down. One of your hands rubbed his back, and the other made its way into his hair. You played with it softly, making it a little messier than it already was. Arthur's breathing got heavier soon after laying down, and you could hear quiet snores rising from him. You smiled to yourself and kissed the top of his head before closing your eyes and dozing off. 

Sometime during the night, your position changed. Arthur's arm now hung heavily over your middle, pressing your back flush against his solid chest. You stirred slightly, trying to blink the sun out of your eyes as you remembered where you were. You could still hear Arthur's quiet breathing behind you, so you assumed he wasn't awake yet. The moment was peaceful. With Arthur's soft sounds, the comforting arm safely holding you, and the songs from birds flowing in through the broken window. You sighed contently and rubbed the lingering sleep out of your eyes before feeling Arthur pull you closer. 

“Good mornin’,” Arthur's voice was still laced with sleep, making it deeper than normal. You felt your heart jump and your face warm. Although you had admitted to yourself that Arthur was attractive, you had pushed down any other thought of the man. He had been your friend, ally, and nothing more. But the security of his grasp and the sound of his voice made it hard to push your feelings down. It made you crave something more. 

“Morning,” You turned in his arms so that you were no longer facing the room but facing him. His caramel hair was tousled, and his eyes were heavy, not from lack of sleep but from what was still lingering. He gave you the softest smile, revealing more of his true colors to you. Not some big rough outlaw, not the camp workhorse, but a man who just needs a little love. You smiled back, admiring the beauty of his eyes. The sunbeams shining through the window hit them just right, making them look like the sea. You reached up to push a few stray hairs out of his face, “Did you finally get some sleep, cowboy?”

“I did, thanks to you,” He returned the favor and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “I guess I should help you out more often.” You laughed slightly, resting your hand on his face, scratching his beard. He closed his eyes and hummed in appreciation. 

“And I guess I should ask for your help more often,” It was Arthur's turn to let out a small chuckle, and without thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. He quickly realized what he had done and pulled back as fast as he had leaned forward. His eyes widdened as he released his grip and sat up, scratching the back of his head. 

“I-Im sorry I wasn't thinkin’...I guess I-,” Arthur stumbled over his words, you cut him off by kissing him again. He stiffened for a second but melted into your touch. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, you tasted like honey and tea.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #van der linde gang #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x reader

[margowritesthings]

Blood On His Hands

pairing: Dutch van der Linde x f!reader

summary: during your time of the month, Dutch offers a helping hand and some advice from good old Mr Miller

word count: 3308 words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, PLEASE READ WARNINGS BEFORE READING, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, menstruating reader, period sex, fingering on period, mentions of blood, slight blood play, sexual content, vaginal sex, breeding kink, explicit language and blasphemy

a/n: uhhhhhhhhhhh I have no excuses for this. i just know nothing would ever get between dutch van der linde and pleasuring his lady, and then this happened. whoops. totally get that this one won't be for everyone, but its what i wanted to write so I did hehe

as always, big love to my love @cowboydisaster for beta-ing and reassuring me i wasn't wrecking my own idea every minute of the day

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @beea-nie

did you enjoy this? consider buying me a coffee!

“Y’know, I think the Lord must hate his women, what with all he goddamn puts us through.” You grumble as you enter yours and Dutch’s bedroom, slamming the splintered door shut behind you to stalk right past Dutch, falling onto the creaky bed and shoving your face into your pillow. 

“Something bothering you, dear?” Dutch raises a brow before looking over at you. He puts his finger on the line he was reading, to save the page when he closes the book to offer you his full attention.

Your neck strains when you lift your head to meet Dutch’s eye. His stare feels hot and intense, which isn’t exactly unusual for a look between you and him, but is definitely heightened by the hormones raging through you. Your stomach aches and cramps, your pussy practically mewling for a release you can’t even reach right now. 

“Just that time of the month, love. Nothin’ to worry about.” 

But Dutch’s finger slips out from between the pages, closing the book properly and discarding it on the table beside his chair. You’ve bundled up the blankets beneath you, pressing the ball of wool into your abdomen to let the pressure attempt (and fail) to ease the pain.

Your face is stuffed back into the pillow, so the first indication Dutch has joined you is the dip on the bed. He holds your frame, moving you to your side with such an ease and slotting himself behind you. His large hands cover your stomach, the heat from him comforting and actually soothing you a little. It’s wild to you that the man can somehow numb a pain that whiskey can’t, but that’s Dutch. He’s incredible. 

The way you’re laying on the bed, your body the little spoon to his larger one, means that Dutch slots in right behind you. You’re sure he’s not even trying to turn you on, focused only on your comfort, but the incessant poking, ever hardening cock branding onto the side of your ass. You so wish you could turn around and let him have his way with you, but knowing the exact thing that has you so feral in the first place is the one thing stopping you from taking what you want. No, what you need. 

Dutch presses a kiss to your temple from behind, his fingers rubbing gentle circles into your belly. It helps the pain, but not the winding feeling tightening your core. Your ass feels how rock hard Dutch is now, and it burns into your flesh until you can take it no more. You grind up against him and he growls deep into your ear. When his tongue slides up the side of your ear, you jolt, and Dutch takes the opportunity to tighten his grip on you and flip you over. He’s hovering above you now, hands roaming everywhere, tongue delving into your mouth as he undoes your shirt and pushes it off your shoulders. 

"I once read that it's a scientifically proven fact that cumming for me relieves those sorts of... symptoms." Dutch whispers teasingly.

The war between mind and body rages in your core. Your body is desperate for him to continue, desperate to feel the trail of his fingers lower and lower until they’re buried deep inside you, but your mind seems tethered to taboos hammered into your subconscious by a conservative world. It’s your mind that forces your hand to grip Dutch’s wrist, though your fingers barely meet wrapped around him, stopping him just above your sore abdomen. 

“Dutch, we… we can’t.” 

It’s an awful feeling, forcing yourself to deny what you truly want, and you curse whatever force or, more probably, some old guy years ago with a quill and a fear of women is making you feel so uncomfortable. 

You want nothing more than for Dutch to plunge himself into you and fuck you better, you want nothing less than to disappoint him. You’re surprised when instead of the furrowed brows and frowned lips you’re expecting, Dutch simply smirks. 

“My dear… there’s blood on my hands from creatures far less beautiful than you.” 

The shock is all you can focus on, so your grip on Dutch’s wrist slackens enough for him to break free and continue his journey downwards. It sends shivers over your entire body and you blink wide eyes up at him, speechless.

“What kind of man would I be…” he starts, expertly sliding the buttons of your pants out of their holes and pulling down the zip, agonisingly slowly.

“… if I could bathe in the blood of my enemies, shed in hatred and violence, but shied away from this, the life force of my love?” 

You’re blushing furiously, you’re sure of it, but something in his poetic words, the comfort in his tone, chips away at your shame. It cracks, breaking away to reveal a more vulnerable version of yourself, reserved only for Dutch. This layer of you fears not the judgement or the embarrassment, it cares only for the wants and desires of yourself and Dutch. 

And right now, you desire Dutch. 

He frees you yet again.

He’s always freeing you. When you met, he freed you from those beliefs ingrained into you by your parents about what society should be, instead showing you how the world is. He freed you from the boundaries you built around yourself, loving you and nurturing you until you found who you really are. He liberated you, quite literally, taking you from your little corner of the world on that ranch and riding you both  into the sunset, stopping off at the most incredible places along the way. And now, freeing you from whatever was holding you back from this act with one loving, fervid, searing kiss, breaking away only to add, “But only if you’re comfortable, my love.”

It seals the deal, the absolute devotion in his eyes when he seeks consent and you nod, biting down on your bottom lip coyly. Words are simply too much. 

“Oh, good girl…” he seems impressed, glad that you’ve let go just enough for him to experience this with him. Dutch gets back to the task at hand, slipping one of the darker blankets underneath you and hooking his fingers into your jeans and underwear to peel them down your legs.

You try not to think about what he must see down there, and it takes everything in you not to squirm, not to retreat back into thoughts planted in you by others and instead to simply be here with Dutch. The struggle manifests itself in a furious blush on your cheeks and an inability to look anywhere but up at the ceiling of the tent. You miss the stars. You wish you could count them. 

Ever the expert on you, Dutch notices your inhibitions winning the battle. He’s hovering just above your heat and he places the softest of kisses just below your belly button. His voice is low when he begins to speak to you, “You know…”

You glance down to Dutch, curiosity overtaking whatever was stopping you meeting his eye, “I was reading earlier and Mr. Miller has some quite interesting views on freedom.” The giggle is inevitable, tumbling from your lips like a waterfall and crashing over Dutch. He’s always talking about Evelyn goddamn Miller, even now. God, you love him.

“Go on…” you reach down to him, tangling your fingers into a stray lock of hair and pushing it behind his ear. You cup his cheek, enjoying watching the flickering candle beside the two of you glistening in his otherwise inky orbs. Your hand looks so tiny beside his chiselled features and you can feel his jaw flutter against your palm. The world melts around you.

“So the question the seeker of allegorical poetry should ask himself-”

Dutch begins to roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, revealing those stunning, strong forearms, “or indeed, herself…” he adds, glancing to you before kissing your belly once more.

“Is this:”

As he crawls back up the length of your body, you can feel hot breath tickling your jawline. Your lips part, desperate for his taste but he denies you for just a second longer. 

“Is it in the seeking that we find or the finding that we seek?”

Finally your lips meet, even if it’s far too briefly, Dutch’s hand trailing back down your front as his tongue dances with yours. You’re trying so hard to concentrate on his words that the nerves seem to have dissipated into the air. 

“While this may seem like a pathway towards insanity…” 

On insanity, he pinches one of your nipples between his fingertips softly, but just hard enough for the sensation to travel down your centre, the feeling everywhere, and a moan escapes your lips. 

“…it’s an important distinction, and also a clear one.”

The trickle of his fingers running down your stomach sends ripples of sensation over the rest of your skin. You are no longer thinking about your reservations, only Dutch and his words and the passion in the way he speaks them.

“She who finds things is wise…”

You lose his touch, but somehow know his fingers are lined up at your entrance. You’re quivering with anticipation.

“…but she who continues to seek…”

You hang on his every word.

“…is evermore free.”

Two fingers plunge into you, curling up deep and hitting your sweet spot with the confidence of a man who knows every inch of you like the back of his hand. It’s different. It’s incredible. Even with just two of Dutch’s fingers, you feel full.

He gives you a second to adjust, before sliding his fingers almost all the way out, only to push them back in until his rings are practically steaming against your heated flesh. With this movement, his thumb lands on your clit and begins to move slow, gentle circles in time with his thrusts.

You see stars. You don’t have the capacity to count them.

“O-Oh my god- Dutch!”

“I know, my dear, I know… doesn’t it feel good? To seek?” He whispers right into your ear, so close his moustache tickles your lobe. All you can do is nod, biting down on your lip so hard it will surely swell in the morning. You feel a million times more sensitive right now, every bit of pressure or movement on your nub hurtling you closer and closer to what surely must be oblivion.

“I’m so proud of you, exploring this with me, letting me show you what we can find together.” The praise washes over you, working in perfect tandem with Dutch’s expert hands to wind your coil tighter and tighter until you’re all but a babbling mess, wantonly pressing your hips up to meet Dutch’s hand with a harsher force. 

Somehow, you manage to finally flutter your eyes open, finding Dutch smirking as he watches you come undone beneath him.

“That’s it… good girl. Let go, princess, I’ve got you…”

Of course he does. Dutch would die for you. Dutch would kill for you. He’d do this for you, and you wonder how you could have ever hesitated.

The wonder is brief, cut short when Dutch van der Linde steals every coherent thought from you the second he slips that third finger in knuckle deep. You scream out his name, arching your back, the woollen blanket beneath you scratching at your shoulders.Dutch continues to orchestrate your euphoria, pumping deep in and out of you and circling your clit just how he knows you love it. It’s so intense and there’s so many stars you’re not quite sure you could count them if you had all the time in the world. 

You come down slowly, guided by Dutch’s voice. Your legs tremble and your cheeks feel wet, though you’re not sure when the tears fell, most likely glistening in the light of those stars you saw just seconds ago. They’re replaced instead by Dutch, who is running gentle fingers of the hand not currently sliding out of you through your hair. 

“Oh, my good girl. My beautiful, good girl, doing so well for me…” He knows you, so knows when you make it back to this realm. It’s in the way you smile at him, the way the spark returns to your eye. He smiles right back, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You’re too quick for him, though only because he’s certainly not expecting much energy from you after that orgasm, snaking a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down to kiss you properly. Passionately.

Your tongue demands entrance and Dutch is happy to oblige. You hear that low growl deep in his chest and the vibrations seem to reverberate through you, spurring you on like a siren’s call. The ache in your abdomen is long forgotten, inhibitions beaten to a pulp and left on the side of the road to die. It doesn’t even phase you when Dutch pulls back to wipe down his crimson right hand on his shirt and you spot the blood splattered on his arm. It’s actually… pretty goddamn hot. He’s right, if the image of him coated in the blood of his victims is enough to set you off, what could be so wrong with this? An act of pure devotion, love and sex in their rawest, most vulnerable forms.

His shirt is left with a scarlet handprint Dutch will surely later claim belongs to an O’Driscoll, but that doesn’t matter for long as he pulls it off his shoulders and discards it to the ground. He unbuttons his pants, slipping them off before returning to you, his body covering and warming yours before you can even realise you’re shivering.

“You astound me every single day, my dear…” He speaks so quietly, seemingly afraid of bursting the bubble formed around the two of you, cutting you off from everything and anything but each other. 

“Gotta keep seeking…” You quip, unable to keep the cheeky smile from your lips when you watch Dutch realise you’re the one quoting Evelyn Miller now. He kisses the corner of your lip, where the smile first started to tug. It’s a playful kiss, at first, but with each second that passes the laughter dies, he holds you tighter and the passion bubbles to the point you feel you might shatter if you don’t have him soon.

“Dutch…” You gasp breathlessly, the neediness in your tone working with the gyrating of your hips to let Dutch know just what you want, as if he’d ever need the help figuring it out. When you feel the head of his thick cock lining up at your entrance, you think of how much tighter it felt with Dutch’s fingers. About half a second before the anxiety can manifest itself, Dutch pushes into you. It’s euphoric, like no fullness you’ve ever felt before. There’s definitely a stretch deep inside, but the ever so slight pain only seems to burn the pleasure brighter. The noise that escapes your lips is obscene, and Dutch dips down to catch it with a deep kiss. Part of him definitely does it so that that noise can be reserved for only him, but the other half of the kiss holds a message: I’m here. He’s right here with you in this, holding you in a way that shields you from everything. In this moment, at your most unguarded, you know you can trust Dutch van der Linde with your life. With everything. 

And you suddenly find what you seek.

When Dutch’s hips pull back, you feel every ridge, every vein, so beautifully massaging you that you experience it head to toe. He pushes back in, and you feel every muscle that twitches in his hard back under your fingers. 

“Some beings, my dear, will never truly appreciate what your body is doing right now…” He growls, picking up a rhythm and hitting that sweet spot he seems to have a map to every damn time. It sends you dizzy and you can feel your heartbeat throbbing deep in your cunt, “But I do. It’s magnificent. You’re magnificent, and one day this cycle you endure will allow me to fuck my babies into you…” His rhythm picks up and you feel yourself climbing, serenaded by his words. You’ve never talked about babies before, but the way Dutch’s breath tickles your ear, the way his words harden your nipples and steal the breath from you, you suddenly know you want that more than anything. 

Yet another discovery.

“Oh, God, Dutch, I-I’m gonna-”

“That’s right, princess… Cum for me. You wanna cum with me, baby? Let go for me.”

And how could you not?

Dutch seems to sense the impending scream, pressing his thumb into your mouth to let you bite down on it. You do. Hard. 

It’s as though every piece of you explodes, crashing into all the pieces of Dutch and bonding to them forever. The rushing blood in your ears is the only other thing you can hear but Dutch’s visceral groans as he too loses control, his once steady rhythm growing erratic, his thrusts getting harsher and harsher. You never knew an ache could feel so good until right this moment.

And just when you feel like you’re in orbit, like you couldn’t possibly reach a higher ecstasy, Dutch presses the thumb not clamped between your teeth onto your clit and starts to rub. 

And you get it. You really, truly understand it. Mr Miller is right, he’s so damn right.

This, the comfort you find in being in Dutch’s arms that unlocks the ability to just keep seeking more from life, this is true freedom. He holds you and guides you from one life changing find to another, allowing you to shape what you want from the world and doing everything he can to bring it to you. The two of you find magical things, like the carnal lusts you experience near nightly, but with his encouragement and love, you continue to seek. You seek times like these, where you’ve never been so vulnerable with another and yet have never felt pleasure and connection so all-consuming. 

You and Dutch, when you’re together…

You’re evermore free.

Free to seek and find, and then keep seeking until you reach this: true bliss.

You cum to the sweet melody of Dutch’s moans and praises, wave after wave radiating over you. Your toes curl; your nails dig into the skin on Dutch’s back, surely ripping it and shedding more blood between you. You can feel your pussy clenching around Dutch’s entire shaft, which twitches madly as it pumps you full of his hot spend.

It feels as if it lasts forever, like when you blink your eyes open the world will have ended, leaving you and Dutch to fuck into eternity and repopulate the Earth. You’d do it. Gladly. 

Alas, when you do open your eyes, you’re met with the world, just as it was when you seemingly left it. Your world: Dutch. His arms are tense around you, as to not let his entire weight crush you and when he slips out of you, he lowers himself to your side. You see the blood on his right hand, but it doesn’t look too unlike the blood on your own hands. You’re breathless, feeling the laboured rise and fall of Dutch’s chest when you rest your head on it, but you just about manage to whisper to him, “Sorry for scratching you…” with the cheekiest smile on your swollen lips. 

Dutch raises a brow, entangling his cleaner hand with one of your own and raising them both to the candlelight to inspect the damage. 

“Y’know… I quite like the look of my blood on your hands, my dear.”

You grin, thinking of the long forgotten cramping and bad mood you once knew. 

“Likewise, Mr. van der Linde.”

#Dutch Van Der Linde #Dutch Van Der Linde smut #Dutch Van Der Linde x reader #Dutch Van Der Linde x you #dutch van der linde fanfiction #rdr #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #Dutch Van Der Linde fanfic #Dutch Van Der Linde imagine #rdr imagine #rdr fanfic #Dutch rdr2

[moonshine-82]

Max Verstappen x Female driver reader

Warnings - angst, j*s verstappen (ewww i know but he’s too good for angst), swearing, also my first ever fic so woo.

Info - ~ writing ~ means flash back. Also sort of based on lyrics from Taylor swifts out of the woods

Summary - you and max have always raced against each other, but now you are both teammates together at red bull. Untold feelings remain however will they be exposed before the pressure get too much

As you trudge away from the wreckage and through the gravel, you can’t help be look back.

~ Max Verstappen was the one name you would always be able to pick out from childhood. As a girl in karting you faced a lot of obstacles; mostly boys and their fathers telling you you weren’t good enough. Max wasn’t one of them. Surprisingly his father wasn’t either, well not outwardly at least. No the year older Dutch boy always treated you the same as everyone else. It did mean he acted like a spoiled little brat who wouldn’t take anything less than a win but that was what everybody got.

This lack of sexism continued as you progressed through the ranks together. As such a friendship began to bloom. Both of you had your difficulties and critics, one the patriarchy and the other their own father, which helped a bond form. You would regularly be seen talking shop before the race and guiding each other through the emotions after. It was a rare occasion that your pair were spotted apart. In that time, Max learnt just how harsh the world was to a girl in motorsport, that no amount of victories will be enough. You learnt that Verstappen’s sore loser nature came from his father, more specifically the way he treated him.

As you grew up together the connection only got stronger, heading up to the higher levels didn’t change that…~

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINK”

A now painfully familiar voice snapped you out of your day dreaming. Looking up, the only thing in view was the furious stature of your teammate marching towards you. Not the crash of the two highly expensive red bull cars. Not the marshals trying to get you over the barrier. Not even the stand of fans all rendered silent by the events. No, all that you eyes were willing to see was your childhood best friend and love of your life (though you had never expressed that) on a murder path.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING, WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING”

Your comment only seemed to make Max even angrier. The second it happened you knew the crash was your fault, but you couldn’t just let him shout at you at by way. As he stalked closer and closer, your original strength vanished. So much so your heart began yo face. You knew Max was capable of a destructive rampage. It was something that you had to witness numerous times. The only difference is that you were never the destination before. Not to say he was never annoyed by you, and especially with the rising tension this season, but never like this. It forced the little girl deep inside of you to be reminded of someone else. A memory that you wished to forget came flooding in.

~ You were staying at Max’s house for what you didn’t know would be the last time. As the two of you sat in his room talking of your latest double podium, a shatter of glass was heard. The second it did you saw the young boys face fall. It wasn’t until the screams were heard you understood why.

The overbearing words of an enraged man echoed though the house. As you looked over at Max, it only confirmed what you suspected. Even at such a much younger age you knew his father wasn’t the nicest man, however this was the first time you saw his true side. As the curiosity got the better of you, you opened Max’s door to go look at the damage. Any attempt he made to stop you were useless as you sat on the stairs staring into the kitchen.

The look on Jos Verstappen’s face was one that you would never forget. It was the look of a crazed, mad man who was willing to kill the next person that dared to even breath next to him.

As you turned to Max, he was meet with your face in tears. The sight hurt more than any words or actions Jos could ever use. He comforted you, took you back to his room and listened as you shook in fear of his father. In that moment Max held your face, looked you dead in the eyes and promised to you and himself that he would never become the monster that scares the girl he cared for the most. ~

As Max finally towered in front of you, he was shook at what he found. Up until now, you would always stand you ground in an argument. Not even recently when it had began to apply pressure to your friendship had you backed down. However he didn’t see the strong women he had grown to love, but instead a weaker shadow of you in tears. To add to the pitiful scene you stood with your arms up in a form of protection.

Max’s original anger at the race ending collision was all but there. His championship dominating attitude faded and all that was left was regret. It didn’t take long for him to put two and two together, and figure out that you state was due to his behaviour. The only time he had seen you like that before was your last ever sleepover. He also couldn’t ignore how much you had brought up the comparison between the father and son in arguments lately. This all however, was long enough for you to turn and run over to the marshals.

Red bulls number one driver was left by what maybe the resting place of his one true friendship. The very scene that you had just escaped. It had all gotten too much. This was the final straw. Much as Spain was labelled the death of Hamilton and Rosberg’s seemingly ever lasting connection, this would be yours and Max’s. Formula 1 had told the world that no compassion survives between rival teammates before, and it was trying to remind it once again.

The walk to the garage was the longest of your carrier. It wasn’t just because of the looming wrath of Christian Horner but overwhelming more due to that which loomed behind you. Max’s constant presence only made the whole situation worse. He was the years of memories that were still trying to cling on desperately. The dread that it had all gotten too much, and things between the two bulls would never be the same. The crushing wait of a heart beginning to crack at what it had been waiting for for over a decade fading out of view.

Finally getting back to the garage, the next hours flashed by. Your mind was too stimulated with stress and anxiety to process any going on. The one thing that got through was the repeating phrase…

“This is it”

Every warning was right. There was no way that you could beat fate. In the history of the world, no friendship has survived the pressure of true competition. Why did you think you would defeat it? Looking back at the day you two agreed to be teammates, you realise just how naive you were. No not naive, you were foolish and arrogant and stupid. You thought you could win a game against destiny, and now you would face the consequences. It was all o…

“Hey, it’s me, can I come in?”

There it is once again that painfully familiar voice broke your train of thought.

“Yeah sure”

In all honestly you don’t know why you say yes, he is the last person you wish to see right now. The reaction must have been a force of habit. As Max enters the medically room, you are both hit with the true weight of it all. He looks down at your stomach, whose scars from the twenty stitches you had had years a ago were visible. They were from a fishing accident, on a fishing trip the two of you went on. Max’s eyes softened looking at them, the memory coming back like one in the million others in the last feed hours. As you both looked up it was obvious you had both been crying.

This shocked you entirely yet not at all. The world’s young champion Verstappen wasn’t one for crying, and he was the one that you had hit the breaks on too soon causing all this mess. However, you knew that your maxie was a big crier. He cares so much about so much, but has the idiotic tendency to bottle it all up till it got too much and explodes.

That’s exactly what the both of you had done and you both know it. Neither wants to admit that the stress of the rivalry was becoming too much however. Admitting would be admitting you were losing, and the one thing your friendship was built on was not being allowed to lose. The consequence of this silence was hostility. Both of you had become more argumentative. It started small, slowly growing to a seeming hatred that all boiled over in todays race. Now both of you are placed in the medical room, red eyes not wanting to say the first words.

The question of wether you would fight past this and back to the childhoods friends, possibly more or if it truly was the end. You’re hearts are simultaneously asking, are we out of the woods yet?

Woooooo, well that was painful. Sorry not sorry. If you have read this I would appreciate it greatly if you would like and please do comment with feed back. Especially if you would like a prequel or sequel to this. Once again this was my first ever fic so probably wasn’t fantastic but I definitely enjoyed it. Thanks for reading !!! Please don’t copy this, not even with credit. Also no translations. Do feel free to reblog.

#fanfic #max verstappen #f1 imagine #formula 1 #x reader #female reader #max verstappen x reader #angst #im hurtin #formula one #red bull formula 1 #red bull racing #team mates #teammates #fanfics #f1 drivers #out of the woods #taylor swift #lyrics

[allinestarr]

Competitive Part 5

Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy! - Alline 

Alec Lightwood x Fem Reader

Slowly you blink yourself awake. Looking around you realize you’re in Magnus’s home. The next thing you notice is you can’t move cause you’re tied down to a chair. After a few minutes of trying to shimmy your way out of the ropes you gave up. You’re next thought was attempting to knock yourself down and break the chair but as soon as you tried Magnus and the rest of the team walked in.

“ I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not only is that my favorite antique Dutch chair, the ropes are magically bound so you couldn’t get them off if you tried.” Magnus smirked.

“ Y/N please don’t be mad at us. This is for your own good. Ever since you got back from that warehouse you've been acting strange. It’s like… you’ve changed. We think you might be under its influence so we asked Magnus and he agreed to help. Since we can't talk to you we had to take matters into our own hand. The only way to find out is to go inside your mind. And... its going to hurt. Im sorry but its for the best.” Jace sighed. 

The elixir kept most of your emotions at bay but the one you couldn’t control was the rage. You thrashed around like a bull in pure rage while Izzy and Clary looked away. Magnus came behind you and put his hands on the sides of your head. A blue light emitted from his hands while he said something in latin. It was excruciating and you screamed in agony. Blood started to drip from your nose and ears as you started to feel weak and light headed. Memories of your childhood flashed before you. Your Parabati ceremony. The moment you realized you were in love with Alec…Then you saw the warehouse. The demon mocking you while you fought with every ounce of strength you had till you killed him. And the pain, the unbearable pain. It felt like poison was coursing through your veins and your skin felt like lava. Then came the nightmares and sleepless nights. And then…nothing. Like everything after that was blocked. He took his hands away with a sigh. There was only one thing he knew did that. An elixir that numbs a persons emotions, takes away there dreams until they are noting but a walking, talking empty shell. Magnus undid the spell on the ropes and Jace and Alec carried you to the couch. Jace activated your healing rune while you were passed out. 

“ Well I know what's wrong with her.” Magnus said.

“ What is it?” Izzy anxiously asked.

“ She's not under any spell or influence from the demon. She suffered a lot after defeating the demon. The pain she felt… I could still feel it. Pure agony. While she was able to heal physically, she was still suffering with nightmares so terrible she eventually stopped sleeping. After that its all dark, no memories. Theres only one thing that can do that. An elixir that numbs you to any emotion. You basically become an empty shell. It can be permanent if taken for a long time. Some people have even gone mad from it. I can prepare her an elixir to help with the withdraw once she stops, but its her choice.”

Izzy sat down in shock. Jace hugged Clary while she cried and Alec looked down in disbelief. Suddenly you were up holding your bow with an arrow loaded towards Magnus. 

“ First, I will never forgive any of you for this. Especially you Izzy. My parabatai. We took an oath to eachother!You broke that when you let him do this to me. Second, you’re going to lower the wards and let me go cause you and I know I'm the quickest shot here and Ill have an arrow through your chest before you can wave your hand. Now do it.” you snarled. 

Magnus looked at you in shock but knew you were telling the truth. He sighed as he lowered the wards. You walked backwards with hands still around your bow and when you felt the door you opened it quickly. 

“ This is my final warning. All of you, stay away from me. If you ever try anything like this again, I will kill you. All of you.” 

You quickly ran down the hall and jumped out the window landing on your feet and ran as fast as you could to the only person who could help you now. Sookie. She was already waiting outside for you when you arrived at her house. 

“ Sookie thanks for meeting me. I need a favor, I promise its the last ill ask.” 

She looked at you questionably while she sat next to you on her couch. 

“ They know about the elixirs. They tricked me and kidnapped me and had Magnus look inside my head. They betrayed me and violated the only privacy I had in my mind. I want to leave but I know they will find me especially with my parabatai bond. I want you to cloak me. I need to focus on the only important thing at this moment which is to find and kill Valentine. Will you do it?” you pleaded. 

“ I don't know y/n. You know I care a lot about you but it could get really dangerous by yourself. Without the help of the clave and your friends, you could get yourself killed.” she cried. 

“ I can take care of myself and at the first sign of danger I will come back, I promise. You can do a tracking spell on me to know where I am so you know im ok and ill check in with you. But please, don't tell them where I am at any point.” 

She looked at you defeated knowing there was no way of talking you out of it but respected your wishes as she prepared the spells. After she finished you thanked her and made your way outside. The institute was the last place you could go and as much as you cared about Raphael and Simon you couldn't trust they would tell Izzy where you were. Your safe house was not an option cause Izzy knew where it was. New York was no longer safe so you decided you’d give Spain a try. Luckily for you the cloak Sookie put over you not only enables them from finding you, it disguises you to look like someone else. So even if they notify the other institutes you’re missing, you couldn't be identified.

P.O.V everyone back at Magnus’s

“Well that didn't go as planed.” 

Everyone looked at Magnus annoyed.

“ State the obvious why don’t you.” Jace rolled his eyes.

“ We need to find her. Valentines out there and everyone’s on guard. Without us she could be in trouble!.” Izzy screamed in frustration.

“Find her and do what!. She can’t be controlled. She’s a loose cannon!. We need to tell the clave. They will know what to do. “ Alec sighed.

“ Are you serious?!. She’s our family!. How could you say that?!. We have to help her even if it means locking her up and forcing her to take the elixir. If I have to spend the rest of my life earning back her forgiveness, so be it. At least we will have her back. Let’s use my parabatai bond to track her.”

Everyone reluctantly agreed but when Izzy tried tracking you, she felt nothing. If it weren’t for the rune still on her skin, she would have thought you were dead.

“ I can’t feel anything. It’s like she doesn’t exist!. Izzy cried.

“ Thats impossible. Hold my hand and I’ll help you find her” Jace said.

Again, nothing.

Magnus portaled them back to the institute. Izzy ran straight to your room but you weren’t there. They searched every inch of the institute and found no trace of you. Clary called Simon but he had no clue where you were. Meanwhile Izzy called Raphael but he said the same thing. Luke couldn’t track your scent anywhere but he promised to have the pack keep an eye out for you. The only other place Izzy could think of was your safe house but when she got there, it was untouched. The only thing they could do was hope you would eventually show up, alive or dead.

6 months later

Madrid had been pretty safe other then the occasional vampire that mistook you for a mundane when you’d take a stroll or meet with some informants at a local down world club. Nothing you couldn’t handle though. Currently you were reading over some intel you acquired about Valentine but it was just a lot of dead ends. The only definite was that he was in NY. In his campaign to destroy the down worlders, he has been recruiting strong humans to turn into shadow hunters. Things were getting serious and you knew you had to go back. You’d still lay low and away from the institute, but still close enough to fight. After a long phone call, Sookie offered to let you stay at her place. It was all settled now.

The flight back felt short and you wished it was longer. Sookie waited at her apartment so it wouldn’t raise any suspicion. As soon as you got there, you started to debrief all you discovered while away and she told you things have been very tense in New York since you left. Valentine had been causing havoc and the institute was barely catching up with him.

“Everyone’s really worried. Even Magnus. Valentine sent hunters to attack warlocks and killed 2. All to send a message. He wants the mortal cup and he knows Clary has it. He still has her mom and he’s growing impatient.”, She sighed.

“ Let’s hope she doesn’t say where. If he gets his hands on it, he could destroy the Down world. I think I’m going to talk to Raphael. He might know more. I’ll keep myself cloaked. I still don’t want Izzy and the team to know.”

As sunset approached you made your way to Brooklyn to see Raphael and decided to wait on the roof till someone eventually came out.

“And who are you?” He asked.

“An old friend.” You smirked.

“I think I would recognize you. I can smell your a shadow hunter but… I’ve never seen you before.”

“You’d think with all the times we’ve had conversations up here, you’d recognize me.”

He pondered for a minute and it clicked in his head. Slowly he grabbed your hand holding you in place as if you’d vanish if he let go and said,

“Y/n”

“ Yes.” You smiled.

“But how and why don’t you look yourself?.” He asked.

“It’s a spell my friend put on me. I had to leave to figure things out. I couldn’t focus on finding Valentine when Izzy was trying to fix me like as if I was broken. They betrayed my trust and I couldn’t stay here. I wish I could have said goodbye or called you but the stakes were to high. I went to Spain and layed low for a while. I tried tracking him down but every time I got close he’d disappear. I got intel he was in NY and came back.”

“You worried us all. We thought you were captured by Valentine or worse, dead. There’s so much to catch up on, follow me I’ll explain everything.”

While you settled down on the couch, he poured you a glass of whiskey and a glass of blood for himself. But before he could start talking, he heard commotion outside the door and opened it to reveal Izzy, Alec, Jace and Clary. Your heart dropped to your stomach and you quickly composed yourself remembering they can’t see you, at least not the real you.

“What do you guys want?. I’m busy.” Raphael sighed.

You exchanged glances with each one but Izzy held your gaze a little longer as if she saw some recognition in you before looking over to Raphael.

“ We think we have a lead on Y/N. A few hours ago I felt a strange feeling and I think it has something to do with her. We think she’s back. We have people looking everywhere and we want to know if you and your coven can help.”

He agreed and sent out some of his coven to look for you. Izzy and the team thanked him but before they left Izzy stoped and looked at you.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere. Have we met?” She asked.

You shook your head and said, “ No, perhaps I’m just another familiar face. I’m Rebecca.”

She smiled and walked up to you holding out her hand for you to shake. Reluctantly you shook it. A little spark ran through your fingers and you quickly let go of her hand. She looked at you puzzled but let it go. The spell Sookie placed still held up but you knew you had to leave because you could feel it wear off. Perhaps the proximity of you two counteracted the spell because of your bond. You looked back at Raphael and said,

“It was nice seeing you. I hope to talk to you soon.” You smiled.

He smiled back and you walked past everyone to leave. Alec’s eyes lingered on you for a couples seconds as you walked away. Once outside you began speed walking and after verifying you were alone, you activated you stamina rune to run as fast as you could back to Sookie’s. When you were just reaching her apartment you were tackled into an alleyway. Getting up quickly you were face to face with Izzy.

“I won’t ask again. Who are you!?.” She snarled.

Before you could say anything, your skin started to glow and you felt light headed. And before you fainted someone grabbed you and you saw a familiar set of eyes looking into you own. It was Alec.

“ Y/N?”, he whispered…

Taglist: @babygirl2022​ @zealouspursecowboydeputy​ @melaniepeep​ @destielshipper88​ @abbiesxox​ @mrs-billyrussooo​

Competitive Masterlist

#Shadow Hunters #the shadowhuter chronicles #shadowhunters #Alec Lightwood #alec lightwood x reader #jace herondale #clary fray #magnus bane #fanfic #izzy lightwood #clary frey

[danwhobrowses]

My Highlights for AEW Wrestledream 2023

There was a dream, a dream of wrestling

And Antonio Inoki sought that dream when he founded NJPW

But now AEW has invited the dangling from its hinges Forbidden Door open again to celebrate Inoki on the anniversary of his death.

Let's see what was good about this show

Spoilers for the PPV

Zero Hour

"She's so sweet, but so dumb, god bless her" Richard of House Starks speaking of Lexy Nair, fiancée of one large William

Props for the Julia vignette, it aired on Collision and apparently someone on twitter helped film it so good for them

Stokely 'Urban Dictionary dot com' Hathaway

TK donning the Inoki scarf with Inoki's grandkids, Shibata and Rocky

Christian Cage Noooooo

Athena doing Billie's jump and Keith's Limitless pose, and then almost blindsided by Kojima XD

Meat chants always a win

Athena saved her minion!

Josh Barnett looks like a leaner Brock Lesnar don't he?

Moxley joining on commentary, showing he's well after the concussion too

I think that's an open invitation to Bloodsport for Claudio

Well, you can tell that Nick Wayne has trained with Darby, mans is bumping

Caster already going for the tentacle porn diss

Sounds like JR is open to scissoring

Main Card

MJF wearing as many belts as he has initials

Picking the right person to massage his shoulders

Alas no tag partner in the corner for Max

Dutch always has a great Bossman Slam

Some Guerrero tactics there, with some added pantomime by the audience

And he hits the bodyslam! The Seattle Stampede

MJF has put over a bodyslam, a double clothesline and a dropkick (Kangaroo Kick) which is proof that with enough charisma any move can be put over

Props to the dude in full Jeff Hardy cosplay

Shibata starting low like Inoki did vs Ali

Thesz drop early just like Inoki took it early vs him for his second ever NJPW match (first was vs Simon Gotch)

Uraken kicked out at 1!

Eddie again winning with the Powerbomb, he meant what he said to Kawada

Dang that crack as Statlander socked Julia

And Julia does have one hell of a moonsault

Brody having to carry his goth daughter back down the ramp

Reminder Julia Hart is 22 in November; younger than Hayes, Stratton, Dragunov, Dominik, Jade, Statlander, Anna, HOOK and more, she is a talent

Starting the 4 way with an International Title preview

and then OC tagging in??

Gunns doing the New Day 'both legal men' attempt

HOOK sold that superkick really well too

"It's always in their hometown huh?"

Nana gets his dance in

Serve remains that guy, so clean

Ooof, taking a trick out of Penta's book eh, Killshot?

Vicious discus lariat there from Hanger

The JML Driver is great too

Mox back on Commentary, he's one flirtation with Excalibur away from being Regal

Ricky's rope walk is just effortless

Ah poor Mox, he can't help but curse it's native to his vocabulary

Seahawks colours for Bryan

Moxley's passion for wrestling is shining through a lot in commentary, if he could control the cussing he could easily be an all timer play by play commentator

It also juxtaposes Nigel McGuinness' anti-Bryan vendetta

Bryan practically walked out of that Romero Special

Hitting the Itoh special with the rollover half crab

GOODNESS that Dragon Screw

I think his head was already fucking kicked in sheesh

That certainly was a technical masterclass, and it doesn't feel like we're done

I'm gonna say it too, give Bryan the IWGP World title. I mean it, he's beaten Okada and ZSJ, he could beat SANADA at like Sakura Genesis or New Year's Dash, have a little run with it, do the G1 and then drop it at Forbidden Door and then he's completed all his career goals

Mox's genuine surprise as he thought Demetrius Johnson was gonna wrestle Kenny Omega XD

I mean that Last Supper artwork is...definitely something

Geez starting with Omega/Ospreay?

People want Takeshita/Ibushi, that tells you how elevated Takeshita has been

Callis trying to contribute to increating the stretch

Ibushi now joining Suzuki in 'he does what he wants', joining the Sex Gods pose

'You still suck' chants because Sammy still pulled off a picture perfect Shooting Star Press

Jericho invoking Omega in the Not Even One kickout

Murder Ibushi activated!

That is the best Ibushi has looked in AEW so far, hopefully he gets 100% for Takeshita

Dang just let Dax and Davis slap each other for 10 minutes, Davis has wrestled WALTER I know he has it in him

I've seen enough, I don't just need 10 minutes I need a full tournament of big beefy men slapping man meat; Dax, Davis, Keith Lee, Shane Taylor, Wardlow, Luchasaurus, Butcher, Brody King, Joe, Hobbs, Miro, Brian Cage, Big Bill, etc. let them all fight, give us the whole Buffet

Darby and Christian have done so much work that'll go understated in restoring the TNT title, it's main eventing a PPV!

Also if anyone can will it into existence we need Christian to start calling himself the Turtle Neck Titan, you know because Turtlenecks but also TNT

Hoisted by his own petard, blinded by the turtle neck

I mean Nick Wayne's mom is hot you gotta shoot your shot

Well that is for sure a Darby Allin bump, right on the steps twice over

Frog Splash onto a stretcher!

And a Killswitch on the canvas boards!

Scorpion Death Drop and Coffin Drop on the boards only for two

Nick Wayne heel turn

You think you know him? Adam Copeland is All Elite! And he brought Metalingus with him

He was so excited he glided through the smoke!

Edge, Christian and Sting all in the same ring what year is it? what timeline is it? WHAT IS IT???

Conclusion

Well that was a lot of fun.

Compared to No Mercy it was perhaps marginally better for me, again this could be due to being more in the loop with the storylines but stuff like the trios match, the main event, Swerve vs Hangman, the ultimate tekkers match it just clicked. Not a bad match on the card too, though I was rooting for Aussie Open to win, but Bucks/FTR IV will still be great. Plus I still wanted to see Statlander body slam Brody.

I do hope Fénix is okay, he disappeared from the 4-Way and he's the International champion, don't want back to back injury-induced title changes after all. But it was good to see Moxley just out there enjoying himself on the side, probably won't ever get to do it again mind you given all the cussing but still, did elevate the matches.

We've got intriguing directions too; Swerve needs to get somewhere with that W over Hangman (world title? I mean I kinda like Jay White for it, International Title? Maybe too soon), Claudio and Bryan have extended rematch invitations and you know Ricky ain't done with the BCC (still though I wouldn't put him in the BCC, Garcia should have that spot), even the Zero Hour did some development with Billie and Athena's dynamic.

So yeah, probably not better than All In and All Out but still pretty damn good, Inoki would be proud.

Match of the Night: I mean it's the Ultimate Battle of Epic Tekkers right? Hard to really say any match was better than that wrestling-wise. The Main Event is a close second with the drama. Best Entrance: Julia Hart gets this one just ahead of Adam Copeland's worst kept secret, not many flashy entrances in this show, in fact I think OC/Hook and Jericho didn't even get entrances. Best Attire: Again, not many here, most of them were kinda subtle so I'm gonna give it to Swerve so I can give him props somewhere. Best Performance: Tie for Bryan and Zack, masters of their craft, not much else you can say. Spot of the Night: Because Christian dropping Darby on the steps was messy and scrappy, it's Bryan's Dragon Screw that just looked so vicious like I'm sure I saw his foot facing another direction.

#aew #all elite wrestling #aew wrestledream #wrestledream 2023 #antonio inoki #bryan danielson #zack sabre jr #christian cage #darby allin #nick wayne #ftr #aussie open #chris jericho #kenny omega #kota ibushi #don callis #will ospreay #konosuke takeshita #sammy guevara #jon moxley #ricky starks #swerve strickland #hangman adam page #julia hart #kris statlander #eddie kingston #katsuyori shibata #mjf #athena palmer #the young bucks

[pomegranate-cuties]

Chapter 19 Reactions

First time poster, long time reader and so on. All instances of bold in quoted text is my own emphasis. Now, without further ado:

People who have never seen these structures, and have only the ill-imagined efforts of artists or the imperfect descriptions of such eye-witnesses as myself to go upon, scarcely realise that living quality. I recall particularly the illustration of one of the first pamphlets to give a consecutive account of the war. The artist had evidently made a hasty study of one of the fighting-machines, and there his knowledge ended. He presented them as tilted, stiff tripods, without either flexibility or subtlety, and with an altogether misleading monotony of effect. The pamphlet containing these renderings had a considerable vogue, and I mention them here simply to warn the reader against the impression they may have created. They were no more like the Martians I saw in action than a Dutch doll is like a human being. To my mind, the pamphlet would have been much better without them.

Tell us how you really feel Mr Narrator! As someone who's been accepting any and all illustrations of our tripod aliens as canon, I'm feeling very attacked right now. And who was it who first described the Martian machines as a milk stool, hm?

The internal anatomy, I may remark here, as dissection has since shown, was almost equally simple.

I love these delicious little hints of a post-Martian world 🥰

They did not eat, much less digest. Instead, they took the fresh, living blood of other creatures, and injected it into their own veins. I have myself seen this being done, as I shall mention in its place.

Virgin digestive system (humans) vs Chad vampire metabolism (Martians). Also, I'm having a bad feeling about the fate of the Curate...

Their undeniable preference for men as their source of nourishment

[Audio and video description: Official YouTube music video for the US version of "Maneater" by Nelly Furtado, an uptempo electro-pop song with an infectious, thumping beat. The video is set to start at the chorus (timestamped 2:12), depicting Nelly Furtado dancing in a dimly-lit, dilapidated warehouse, interspersed with shots of the crowd dancing in other rooms of the warehouse:

Maneater, make you work hard Make you spend hard, make you want all of her love She's a maneater, make you buy cars Make you cut cards, make you fall real hard in love She's a maneater, make you work hard Make you spend hard, make you want all of her love She's a maneater, make you buy cars Make you cut cards, wish you never ever met her at all

End description.]

These creatures, to judge from the shrivelled remains that have fallen into human hands, were bipeds with flimsy, silicious skeletons (almost like those of the silicious sponges) and feeble musculature, standing about six feet high and having round, erect heads, and large eyes in flinty sockets. Two or three of these seem to have been brought in each cylinder, and all were killed before earth was reached. It was just as well for them, for the mere attempt to stand upright upon our planet would have broken every bone in their bodies.

[Audio and video description: Scene from "Chocolate with Nuts" (season 3, episode 52) of SpongeBob Squarepants. SpongeBob, with a bandaged head and two crutches, and Patrick, with a neck brace and both arms in casts, knock on the door of a potential chocolate customer. The customer wears a full-body cast, eyepatch, and ventilator face mask, with an IV drip attached to his right side.

The video begins with a close up of the customer's face, who laments, "Ugh, some guys have all the luck. I was born with glass bones and paper skin. Every morning, I break my legs, and every afternoon, I break my arms. At night, I lie awake in agony until my heart attacks put me to sleep." As he speaks, a violin begins to play, and the shot cuts over to SpongeBob and Patrick, who look like they're about to cry.

Right as the customer finishes his speech, the mobility device holding the customer's leg out from him falls. A wire snaps, sending the customer tumbling down the stairs to the sounds of shattering glass and cries of pain.

End description.]

In the next place, wonderful as it seems in a sexual world, the Martians were absolutely without sex

Ace pride 🖤🤍💜

The last salient point in which the systems of these creatures differed from ours was in what one might have thought a very trivial particular. Micro-organisms, which cause so much disease and pain on earth, have either never appeared upon Mars or Martian sanitary science eliminated them ages ago. A hundred diseases, all the fevers and contagions of human life, consumption, cancers, tumours and such morbidities, never enter the scheme of their life.

Yes! I'm so glad this's been finally addressed, because it was the first thing I was curious about. It's a little inconceivable to me for life to exist on other planets without microorganisms, but that may be a lack of imagination on my part. What's more interesting is what this might mean for Martian immune systems...

#war of the worlds #daily war of the worlds #pomegranate-cuties

[thebuckblogimo]

The Dutch battled the Japanese in the war over elm trees.

June 18, 2023

There's a giant Dutch elm tree in front of a neighbor's house down the street where I live, one of three elms that I'm aware of in Grand Haven. It reminds me of the biggest elm tree I ever saw--the one that stood at the southeast corner of Tireman and Reuter in the Dearborn neighborhood where I grew up.

During the '50s, I thought of it as a miniature Sequoia (oxymoron?) which I learned about by watching the Mickey Mouse Club on TV. Embedded into its trunk, about ten feet up, was a cream-colored sign with red lettering that marked the corner as a bus stop for the DSR (Department of Street Railways). Under the tree stood a U.S. mailbox, painted OD (olive drab) green.

As a kid I used to hide behind that big 'ol elm on the corner when I played hide-and-seek with Butchie, Jerry and all the other neighborhood rascals. That tree was humongous. I thought of it as being indestructible.

Until it wasn't.

Tireman, the street where I lived, marked the northern border of Dearborn. The city of Detroit was on the other side. It happened to be one of the busier streets in the area, an avenue that carried cars, busses, taxis, milk trucks, panel vans and frequent deliveries from Awrey Bakery and J.L. Hudson's department store. Every home on both sides of the street had at least one elm (either a Dutch elm or an American elm) between the sidewalk and curb. The trees grew tall, spread out at the top like a couple of rows of opened umbrellas, creating a shady, arching canopy--a tunnel--through which vehicles were "supposed" to travel at the posted speed limit: 30 MPH.

People who visited our house for the first time would invariably say, "This is such a beautiful neighborhood...I just love all the trees..."

A couple times each summer, usually while my buddies and I were jumping off garages or hopping fences, we'd hear the sound of a low-flying airplane--a crop duster--spraying some sort of mysterious substance over the neighborhood. When I asked my mother for an explanation, she told me it was an attempt to eradicate Japanese beetles, which were killing off the elms.

We always ran for cover when the plane buzzed our homes. But if what they were spraying was DDT, we sure as heck inhaled a lot of it. Perhaps the effects of taking it in was what caused so many of us to act out like borderline juvenile delinquents.

In any case, my Mom went on to explain that Japanese beetles ate the leaves of the elm trees, causing them to die. I have since learned that it was actually bark beetles that attacked the trees.

By the early-to-mid '60s, the elms in my neighborhood started to slowly decline en masse, including the one in front of my house and the three that stood on the property of the house next door.

But that mammoth elm at the bus stop continued to stand tall in defiance.

You could always tell when an elm was under attack because leaves near the top would turn brown and fall off during the summer, leaving that part of the tree naked, with spindly branches. By contrast, the leaves of healthy elm leaves would begin to turn yellowish-brown in September.

And, oh my, the smell of those leaves when neighbors would burn them at the curb each October and November. It was intoxicating while we played touch football in the street on Reuter, Morrow Circle, Bingham, Calhoun or Oakman Boulevard. The aroma was a rite of autumn.

I can't pinpoint the exact year that the massive elm at the corner of Tireman and Reuter finally succumbed, but it was one of the last in all of East Dearborn to go down. I do know this:

The trees on Tireman completely vanished by the early '70s. It looked as though the military had come through and sprayed agent orange. Meanwhile, the white middle class on the other side of the street began to move from the area in the aftermath of the Detroit riots and the beginning of school bussing in the Motor City. On the Dearborn side, as "teaching nuns" (a source of free labor for Catholic schools across the country) were becoming a dying breed, a statewide referendum on "Parochiaid" for religious schools was voted down by the citizens of Michigan. Thus tuition began to skyrocket at St. Al's, stressing the household budgets of parishoners. And, simultaneously, the hordes of babyboomers, who as children had clogged area sidewalks on the way to school each morning, had grown up and started moving out of state, or began hopscotching to places like Dearborn Heights, Livonia, Westland, Plymouth and Northville after attending college or fighting in the Vietnam War.

The point is that Dutch elm disease was the first of a series of events that conspired to alter the stereotypical, Ozzie-and-Harriet character of my old stomping grounds.

During the late '70s while I was single, I purchased a home of my own in a Detroit neighborhood called North Rosedale Park. City workers had just taken down a huge elm that stood in front of the house before I moved in. Still holding on for dear life was a monstrous elm that stood on the property line between my house and the neighbors' house next door. Within a year it died, and we split the cost to have it taken down.

During the early '80s, my neighbor and I both purchased woodburing stoves to supplement the heat in our homes. With the last of the elm trees still dying off, we never had to travel far to secure a load of firewood. We purchased a 4X8 trailer for hauling "rounds," as well as a hydraulic splitter, because elm is a dense, "stringy" wood that is virtually impossible to split by hand with with an ax.

Joyce Kilmer wrote a poem called Trees. I learned it as a child by watching Our Gang comedies on TV. In one episode called "Arbor Day," Alfalfa, dressed like Robin Hood for a school play, sang the words to the poem. The first line goes like this:

"I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree."

I saw that episode many times, and when I would watch it on a VHS recording with my children, while bonding with them on weekend mornings during the late '80s, I would sing along with Alfalfa. Except I always forced the word "elm" in front of the word "tree."

And that's the truth.

[kirstielol]

Last year's future log vs. the one I made today in my new bujo 🌱

#bujo #bullet journal #future log #bujoblr #studyblr #journal #this is my first ever attempt at a dutch door!! #dutch door

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

hi lovely !! 🤍 i was wondering if you could write something where mjf “distracts” the reader after a bad breakup if you know what i mean 😜

Hi sweetie ❤️ Oh, this will get interesting 😏

A/N: I literally wrote this 4/5 times but hated all of them! And then when I finally got to something good, I lost the goddamn file 😒

So this is the sixth (and pretty decent if you ask me lol) attempt with our favorite Jewish boy

Word Count: 561 words

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

@theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @unusual-tomorrxw , @hungmanhorsecarriage , @unusual-tomorrxw , @aerynscrichton , @wrestlersownmyheart , @new-zealand-chic , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @thealliasylum , @crowleysqueenofhell , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @alliwant456 , @sultryfandoms , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @kelbrave

Ricky Starks is the ultimate asshole! And how do I know that? Because he used to be my boyfriend. Exactly, used to. Past tense, because the minute I found out he was talking with some random girl online and was planning to meet her, I broke up with him.

“Baby, you can’t do that!” He screamed behind me, trying to stop me as I stormed down the hallway, towards Max’s door.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed “Watch me!” My hand desperately knocked on his door until he answered. “Goddamn! Whoever you are, for your own good, someone better have died or else-” Max’s eyes stared at me, and soon his demeanor changed from annoyed to surprised, to flirtatious.

“Oh, if it isn’t the most beautiful angel-” Max couldn’t even finish his sentence as I pulled his face towards me for a desperate, hungry kiss.

His surprise only took a few seconds to fade away and when it did, his strong arms closed around my waist, making me gasp and deepening the kiss.

I always suspected that Max had good game, and so far I’m not disappointed! I felt Ricky approaching me and apparently so did Max, because the next thing he did was break our kiss to warn Ricky “If you touch her or step a foot inside my hotel bedroom, I’ll make sure you’ll check out in an ambulance stretcher!” Was the only thing he said before kicking the door closed in Ricky’s face.

I wasn’t naive, there was a reason why I came to MJF’s room, and that’s because I knew he had the hots for me ever since we first saw each other. I needed to blow off some steam and knew he wouldn’t ask dumb questions, he would just get down to business.

Max helped me get rid of my clothes before softly pushing me down the bed. He leaned back and took a few minutes to admire my nude body before murmuring “What a dumb motherfucker”. His hands softly caressed my inner thighs, slowly spreading them open for him, revealing my already glistening folds to his hungry eyes. “Lucky me though” A smirk spread across Max’s lips as he knelt down on the floor, between my legs.

He left open mouth kisses all over my skin, from my right knee up to my inner thigh until he reached my outer lips. He repeated the same actions on my left leg, spreading the pleasure throughout my entire body from head to toe.

Max placed both of my thighs on top of his strong shoulders before spreading my folds with his thumb and forefinger so he could have full access to my sensitive pearl. He gave a soft peck on my bundle of nerves before closing his lips around it. His sucking motions were perfect in pressure and delicate in movement, so perfect that made my toes curled and my eyes rolled into my head.

My back arched off the bed and my hand instantly went to his hair as I felt one, and then two fingers stretching my slick walls.

“Don’t worry, doll. From now on I’ll make sure you know how a real woman should be pleasured by a real man. And I can guarantee that by the end of the night, you will only remember me and how much I can make you cum”.

#mjf aew #mjf fanfiction #mjf x reader #mjf imagine #mjf #masochist writes

[yunahosk]

limerence | yan zhongli x reader

ai ai ai, i’ve never tried writing before so this is a first (and ofc i picked zhongli to seduce him to come home), if all goes well possibly i’ll do another!

apologies for poor english and grammar, i speak dutch, im trying hehe.

warnings: blood, violence, mentions of public death/ exec*tion, mentions of death, stabbing (in leg and arm), obsessive tendencies, forced relationship, yandere content

please let me know if i missed anything!

limerence: the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person

“Thank you for providing me your kindness, Mr. Zhongli.” You smiled, letting your hands slowly wrap around the porcelain cup adorned with designs of gold. It seemed to fit the man’s mysterious aura: truly lavish.

After an encounter, more so a dilemma with a small village in Liyue which left you seconds away from your inevitable fate of hanging by a rope. To be fair, sure, possibly you shouldn’t have accidentally set fire to half the village. But having a pyro vision has its downsides too, no?

Although it left you questioning why it seemed he had such an impact on the small village, all the mattered is that you still sat in flesh and bone and not six feet under.

Truly, he was a kind man, even inviting you into his abode for a cup of tea and a residence for the meantime. You were an adventurer from Fontaine, traveling to all the seven nations in search of, well nothing. Armed with only a pyro vision and a spear you were determined to travel the world. Liyue Harbor was just one of your many stops, and to your delight it was truly a fascinating and astonishingly beautiful place.

“Ah, there’s no need for formalities. I do think we are well acquainted by now.” He hummed, observing how you lifted the cup to your lips, your eyes widening as the scorching substance hit your tongue. You quickly placed the porcelain cup down, a light laugh emerging from your lips as a smile soon followed.

“Really, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” Resting your finger tips upon the cup and frowning as you stared at the liquid in deep thought.

“I’d give you my life if I could.” You laughed, furrowing your eyebrows with a sigh.

“We could arrange for that.” Your eyes widened, staring down at the cup of tea with a dumbfounded expression. Quickly composing yourself, a laugh quickly arose from your mouth, though sounding more panicked than natural.

“Ah, I didn’t imagine you’d be a man of comedy.” You chuckled, cocking your head to the side and letting your hand fall from the cup down to your waist, toying with the pyro vision by your side. Sure, you weren’t in danger, just force of habit.

“I’m afraid I do not understand.” There go the wide eyes once again.

“Oh- your comment, before?” You looked up, now gripping the red orb by your side as more of a safety precaution than anything, worry seeping through your bones but that stupid voice in your head told you Mr. Zhongli couldn’t hurt a fly. Tension rose in your throat, watching as his amber orbs slowly gaze over your expression.

“Ah, I see.” A wave of relief washed over your body. Social cues truly aren’t just his thing. We all have our quirks though, no?

“You don't take my word?” He hummed, furrowing his eyebrows. The 10 seconds of relief now came crashing down, setting you back to your state of panic.

“I do believe it is a fair trade. On my part, saving your life from harm and death and as for your part, giving me yourself in return.” He wasn’t joking.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be mistaken. We had no such agreement before this!” You raised your voice, listening as a hum of what seemed to be displeasure released from his mouth. He lifted his hand, bringing it to his chin as if in thought. “I do value fairness greatly.”

“You’re out of your mind, no part of this is fair! There was no mention of such a thing?” He seemed to be confused, taking in your words.

“Ah, you seem to misunderstand. I simply intend to establish a marriage. To bind you to my side, for eternity that is.” Well, now it was your turn to be confused. “Marriage? Goodness gracious, we met, what? Two days ago? My apologies Mr. Zhongli, but in no way do I intend to marry you. I haven’t a clue what you speak about.” You stated, rising from your seat and preparing for your departure.

“That does not seem like a wise choice, Y/N.” Your body tensed, was this a threat? No. You are fine. A huff of breath released from your mouth as you readied yourself once again, walking towards the door and making your departure with no more exchanged words.

“What a shame.” Zhongli hummed with a frown, staring at the door you’d made your sudden leave from.

Putting the events of a few days ago behind, it truly was difficult to leave Liyue Harbor. Residents of the city were welcoming and kind, helping a foreigner with open hands. Though all good things must come to an end at some point.

As you traveled your way through Liyue, passing by ruin after ruin the thought of your soon adventures in Mondstadt seemed more intriguing by the second. Maybe you do get excited too easily, but you can't help the way your daydreams take over reality. It does make time fly by faster though.

After days of travel through a variety of terrain, soon you find yourself at Wangshu Inn, looking for a night's rest. It does seem as though everything in Liyue is elegant, and this place is most certainly no different. To say the least you were excited to stay in such a place.

With your bag in hand, you slowly make your way across the balcony of the building towards your room, letting your eyes gaze upon the stars in the sky. A sigh releases from you as you stop your short walk and make your way towards the edge of the balcony, staring up at the stars in all their glory.

In sight is Celestia itself. Perhaps one day you could visit. After all, this is only the beginning of your adventures. With so many more to come maybe you could ascend there one day.

“Pathetic.” The words catch you off guard as your eyes widen, quickly turning to meet the raspy voice only to find yourself knocked to the ground, your belongings and spear shoved to the side. An excruciating pain made its presence upon your leg and as you let out a loud groan, you open your eyes and are met with a black and teal-haired man staring down at you with a malicious glare.

Your eyes widen in horror as you look down to the source of the pain: a large spear present in your calf leaving you to watch as blood seeped out. The agonizingly slow speed as to which he pulls the spear from your skin makes tears surface upon your eyes. And soon after you find the tip of the same spear pointed at your neck.

“Who are you?” You muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at him with watery eyes. It hurt so bad, more pain than you’d ever felt before.

“It doesn’t concern you as to who I am, you are only a mere mortal.” Your breath hitches as you scan over his body and take sight of the mask on his side.

“Y- you’re an adepti?” You whispered, your voice shaky. “Aren’t you supposed to be protecting hum-”

A cry of pain releases from your mouth as the spear once pointed in your neck now finds itself sunken into your thigh.

“Did I say you could speak?” His voice is raspy, it sounds as though it’s strained from screaming, but you’re the one screaming. Tears fall from your eyes as you wait for your fate to be sealed. Beside you you can hear footsteps upon the wooden balcony, a surge of hope rushes through you only to come back down to horror as quickly as it lasted.

The same deep hum you’d despised now evident once again.

“It seems you are in trouble?” It was as if he was asking a question more than making a statement as if you weren’t sitting in a pool of your own blood with a spear pointed at your throat. You reach your arm out in a desperate attempt to grasp your spear, biting your lips to stop the sobs from spilling once again.

“Zhongli, please-” In your arm this time the spear plunges down on.

“Do not speak to Rex Lapis in such a disrespectful manner.” The adepti snaps, glaring down at you. Silence surfaces as your sobs grow louder, and soon you find yourself coming to realization.

Rex Lapis? No no, there has to be a mistake. But it all makes sense? The same man who took you in so humbly now kneels beside you watching you suffer. Is this who Rex Lapis, the god of contracts and war truly is?

As he kneels by your side, his gloved hand delicately makes its way down your cheek, wiping the tears from your face.  

“Please help me.” You whisper, you sound truly pathetic. But you’d rather look pathetic than give up on life so easily.

“I’ll do anything.” You ever so quietly whisper out. You knew you didn’t want what would come next, but you couldn’t give up. Not yet.

“Anything?” He hums as if he found the scene before him amusing. The eye contact made between his amber eyes and your e/c orbs sends shivers down your spine.

He truly wants this. He’s crazy.

You find yourself nodding your head in hesitance, you don’t want this.

“Y/n, do you agree to stay bound to my side in marriage for eternity?” Your breath hitches, eyes widening in horror, there’s no going back on this. There truly isn’t.

Is this worth your life?

“Yes.”

#yandere zhongli #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin #yuna’s fics

[its-deputy-caleb]

Micah Bell - Partners in Crime and in Love Pt.1

YES i know there’s 58 requests sitting in my inbox for re8 HOWEVER red dead is my comfort game and i needed to write this verbal mess down. I’ve been thinking of writing a micah fic for weeks now and i finally did it bc as much as i love re8 red dead is my fav and always will be. this is so self indulgent i swear.

for anyone that actually reads this the reader is pretty gn but does lean towards fem this time and i’ll be doing a part 2 for sure bc i love the rat man.

part 2 is now here

—————————————————————

Today was finally the day. The day for the big bank job that Dutch insisted was the right move for the gang. This was despite numerous doubts from Hosea and various other camp members that robbing a bank in broad daylight in the state’s largest city was a risk the gang couldn’t afford to make right now.

The whole morning there had been a sour feeling in your gut, a tiny voice shouting in the back of your mind that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t like you to get nervous on a job, in fact you recently robbed the Valentine bank with Bill on his job. Originally you weren’t interested in going, happy to let Karen go on her own with the guys but Bill insisted you go as you were one of the best gunslingers the gang had.

Robbing and killing came naturally to you and being outlawed in six states had never bothered you during your time as an outlaw. That’s why it was almost impossible for you to ignore the sick feeling in your stomach that was slowly building.

Making your way over to Micah, you see him sitting on a wooden crate cleaning his guns for the inevitable shootout that comes with bank jobs. Taking a seat next to him, Micah doesn’t need to ask you how you are; he can practically see how restless and agitated you look.

That’s the thing about your relationship with Micah, you understood each other (especially in public) and didn’t need grand public displays of affection to know exactly what the other needed in that moment.

The camp mostly stayed clear of your relationship, I mean you were probably two of the camp’s biggest troublemakers and risk takers when it came to planning jobs and robbing folk. Both of you had a shot quicker than lightening and could practically shoot your way out of any situation you found yourselves in. But regardless of how ruthless anyone thought you two were, you always had each other’s backs and wouldn’t stop to think about saving the other.

One night after a successful train job Dutch decided to hold a camp celebration. It was a mostly quiet night for you, having not decided to party with your companions despite Sean, Charles and Javier all offering for you to join in. Instead you decided to spend the mostly quiet night with Micah sharing a bottle of whiskey and splitting your share of the earnings. After each job you always had a bet with Micah over who could shoot the highest number of lawman. It was a bet the two of you had with each other just to cause more mischief and it always brought a smile to your face when Micah would lose and sulk about it for the rest of the afternoon

At one point during the night Bill strolled over to you while Micah went to get another bottle of whiskey. He was nice and polite despite the smell of beer coming from his breath, maybe even a little flirtatious and all was well until he asked the question ‘Why is you with a rat like him when you could be with someone as charming as me?’. Bill ended up with a face full of dirt and a broken nose, not to mention a killer hangover.

So yeah, the gang tended to leave you and Micah alone…

Micah’s knee lightly brushing against your own brings your thoughts back to reality. He’s stopped cleaning his guns and is looking at you with soft eyes and a gentle smile, the one that’s only reserved for you.

Despite being a hardened outlaw that has known nothing but chaos and the open road for most of your life. The gang has observed from afar your softer sides, whether it be the time you both fell asleep next to each other by the campfire or getting shit scared when the other has been shot and the rest of the night is spent with soft kisses and bandage wrapping.

Micah holsters his revolver and gently takes your hand in his.

“Sweetheart we’re gonna be fine, ain’t nothing gonna go wrong, now common let’s go get dressed for such a special occasion.”

~

Everyone is just starting to get into their fancy attire for the job when you and Micah are already packing your saddles and getting ready. You’re wearing matching white suits with a red shirt only yours is tailored to show off your figure a lot more and your plunge top and corset doesn’t leave much to the imagination but hey, if you’re gonna go out it’s gonna be in style.

As Micah finishes tightening up Baylock’s saddle you lean forward and hold his wrist in your hand. Your thumb gently brushes the soft skin there, trying to hide the nerves that have been slowly eating away at you all day.

“I don’t like this Micah, somethings gonna go wrong I can feel it…”

Micah’s never been great with emotions but you’ve known him long enough to know how he comforts you. The arm that’s caught in your grasp turns and brings you forward into a hug, his chin resting on your head as you hold him tightly against you.

“Ain’t nothin gonna happen to us, just think of it as another bank job.”

You nod and hold him closer, a rare event for such a public place where anyone could walk by but neither of you really cared at that moment. You press your face into his shoulder, trying to shake off your uneasiness.

“You better not die on me now Bell, you still owe me that new holster for beating you in five finger fillet.”

~

Fuck did the bank job go wrong. Horribly wrong. From the moment you got off your horses and stepped foot in that bank it all turned to hell.

Bullets where flying everywhere, there were civilians screaming in terror trying not to get caught in the crossfire, glass was being shattered by dynamite and Dutch was trying to formulate a plan while in shock of losing his dear Hosea.

A bullet whizzed past your head and you took out another Pinkerton. It was chaos. Every time you managed to bring down the line of Pinkertons another carriage full of them would arrive with the Saint Denis Police.

You couldn’t see Micah anywhere, but each time you tried to look for him your attention was dragged back to the action in front of you and the numerous Pinkertons shooting at you.

Arthur had snuck onto the roof at some point and some of the other members where making their way towards the rooftop as well. You were about to make a bolt towards Dutch and Javier on the ladder when Charles stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Go that way, we’re the diversion! Karen and Sadie are a waiting near the alleyway of the tavern, we’ll meet you back at camp in a few hours, GO!”

Charles pushes you down the alley way and climbs up the ladder to catch up to the others. You would’ve protested but your body is running on adrenaline so you didn’t think as you snuck your way out of safety.

~

Micah was furious that Charles had sent you off on your own to find your way back, if it wasn’t for the fact that the five of them where hiding from the law in a rundown city apartment he probably would have argued with him for hours.

But deep down he knew it was the right thing to do. He knew that you’d be 100 times safer away from this chaos then if you were here with him, even if you could handle yourself.

For hours they sat in that little room, Dutch formulating a plan on how to get out of here while Micah tried not to worry about whether you made it home safe. Now he understood that sick feeling of worry in your stomach, he only ever got it when he worried about you.

By nightfall Dutch had somewhat of a plan to escape via the docks, sneak out onto a ship that would take them somewhere and it hit Micah in that moment that it would be some time before he saw you again…

The guards where everywhere, the entire city on high alert after the bank and Charles ended up running so everyone could make it onto a boat. As Dutch attempted to negotiate with the captain for a cabin, Micah lit a cigarette from his blazer pocket, trying to take his first deep breath of the night.

“We were fools for thinking we could pull off the bank…”

Arthur rests against the crates, fatigue clear in his eyes but willing himself to stay awake. Micah however didn’t want to sit and talk about what could have happened and what actually did, he had a headache already and certainly didn’t need a lecture from Arthur for another reckless decision he helped create.

“Whatever you say Morgan.”

Sighing defeatedly, Micah flicks his cigarette bud over the side and into the water below, making his way to go sit on the other side of the crates where he can think.

~

Back at camp you pace around the halls of Shady Belle, the floorboards creaking under the weight of your boots.

“Fuck this I’m going to find them-“

Before you make it out the front door however Miss Grimshaw blocks your exits.

“You’re not going anywhere anytime soon. The Pinkertons are everywhere looking for us. Now I know you want your precious Mr. Bell back but you’re just going to have to wait out the next few hours until he returns with the rest.”

You decide to ignore the slight condescending tone of Susan as you see a rider approaching into camp. Your hand is on your holster, everyone who’s left joining you to crowd around the man slowly coming closer. Everyone is relieved to see its Charles, but only slightly. He’s alone and a horrible feeling of fear washes over you.

“Charles… Where is everyone… Where’s Micah?”

#micah bell #micah bell imagine #micah bell x reader #i missed the rat man sm #it’s actually unbelieveable how badly i’ve missed writing for him #soft and angsty rat #soft rat 🥺🥺🥺 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 writing #red dead redemption fanfiction #this is rushed and unedited #van der linde gang

[laufulneutral]

We all know how much I love music Inspos! So here’s one that came to mind whilst I’ve been obsessing over this Coldplay song recently.

I’m sorry if this is crap. Only briefly re read so have fun or not cool thanks bye haha

(It’s a sad Arthur moment)

You are Arthur’s fiancée. Arthur turns up out of the blue after disappearing for 3 months after shish went down in Valentine and the gang had to leave. He never told you and he hasn’t been responding to letters. This isn’t the first time he’s had to go, he disappears a lot to do jobs for Dutch, but you always knew. However things have been strained since the trouble in Blackwater and Arthur goes for longer periods between seeing you, and he doesn’t have the time to see you and it’s all coming to a crashing reality, that unless you keep running with the gang, you can have no future together

A sharp knock on the door takes your attention away from the book you had become so engrossed in. You look up as your Aunt leaves the room to answer the door.

Soon enough you hear the familiar drawl of the outlaw,

“Hello m’aam, is Miss Y/LN here?”

A brief sense of happiness and relief floods your system before it’s taken over by anger again. Anger that he left, anger he hasn’t written once to you or even responded to any of the letters you wrote to him.

“I shall go see”

You hear the door close, and your aunt appears in the entrance to the room

“Mr Morgan is here to see you” she smiles gently, worry etched into her face. You return the smile, and nod once before putting your book aside and standing to straighten your skirt.

“I can tell him your busy” you aunt offers,

“No it’s okay” you reply, twiddling the silver band with a single ruby raised from it on your finger. “He is meant to be my fiancée, I cannot ignore him”

Pulling open the door you are greeted by the familiar cowboy,

“Arthur” you greet him

“F/N” he smiles broadly, taking your hand and raising it to his rough lips placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The touch sends electric through your body, some things never change no matter how long it has been. “Y’look lovely darlin’”

You close the door behind you and attempt to offer him a smile. You can’t bring yourself to say anything amongst the anger and hurt that’s bubbling more now you are seeing him in person.

“I’ve missed ya” he says, awkwardly knocking his foot against the wood of the porch. The tension between you is thick, “ain’t stopped thinkin about ya since I’ve been away.. some strange people down south”

“Why are you here Arthur?” You snap, unable to continue anymore small talk. His face blanches and his eyes show a quick glimpse of shock and hurt

“I missed ya, and I wanted to say sorry” he answers plainly

“For what?”

“What?” He grunts

“For what Arthur. What are you sorry for?” you demand, impatient with him already.

“Erm…”

You let out a harsh laugh, walking away from him to the low fencing of the porch. You wrap your arms around yourself pleading it will keep you together,

“I would have been back sooner but we ran in to trouble”

You shake your head “ain’t that always the way”

“Ain’t nothing I could of done.. Dutch said..”

You spin round to face him, your patience snapping “well if Dutch said it then it must be gods word”

“Y/N.”

“Don’t” you hiss “I am your fiancée … least I thought I was till you disappeared and I had no idea where you were for 3 months”

“I’m sorry.. Pinkertons showed up and after what happened in Valentine I couldn’t come back and see ya in case someone recognised me”

“How about letters Mr Tacitus Kilgore? Did pinkertons take over the postal system too!” You sneer,

“No” Arthur mumbles, his eyes stuck firmly on the floor. He is so inherently frustrating, he never understands how him disappearing effects you,

“You cannot begin to fathom the thoughts I’ve had about you since you left! I thought you was dead!” You exclaim, your hands swing around widely

“Oh darlin..” Arthur hums, his eyes meeting yours with concern, “course not, I ain’t trying to make you worry”

“What was I meant to think ? I rode out to horseshoe and found it abandoned.. I thought cause I hadn’t heard from anyone that you must be ..” you take a deep breath to stop your voice from cracking and shake your head “That was till I saw Trewlany, he told me you were holed up somewhere near Rhodes. I didn’t believe him at first.. said you would have let me know if you had to go”

Arthur says nothing watching you with a blank expression

“Arthur I have wrote to you. I have wrote and wrote and worried and cried…” you stop yourself, turning away from him again to not have to see his face,

“What can I do to fix it?” Arthur asks you, his voice desperate

You shrug, before mumbling “I just wish it could be like it used to be, y’know back in Blackwater”

Silence stretches out between the pair of you, only broken when Arthur sighs heavily,

“I ain’t too sure what to say darlin.. I’m sorry and I’m here now… ain’t that enough?”

“We’ve done this before Arthur, you do something wrong, I get hurt and then you apologise. We are running in circles, and I keep getting hurt. I’m tired of it”

Arthur comes up behind you and wraps his two warm arms around you. The scent of pine and campfire invades your senses, the smell of him bringing comfort to you the same as it always has done.

“You darlin, are the most important thing to me” he says gruffly, his lips kissing you lightly on the side of your face, the electric tingle igniting your skin, “please forgive me”

“I always do” you answer, your voice exasperated “but that ain’t changing anything, you do it again and again .. disappear for weeks .. this time 3 months. What will it be next time Arthur? 6 months ? A year?”

Arthur’s arms stiffen around you,

“This is my life Y/N, you knew that when you met me and you knew that when you agreed to marry me” he says, his voice irritated “Nobody said it would be easy”

You laugh, shocking yourself, before shaking your head “you’re right ! Nobody said it was going to be easy. Being in love with an outlaw” you take a deep breath before admitting the truth “but no one ever said it would be this goddamn hard”

Your voice cracks, and your eyes begin to threaten unshed tears that have built up over the last few weeks. Arthur turns you in his arms so your face to face, you look up into his sea blue eyes,

“What are ya sayin” he asks warily,

You search his face for something to change your mind on the hard decision you’ve been thinking over for the last month. You find it hard to face the reality when you are in his presence, he is so intoxicating and just seeing the man you love brings you such comfort. Yes he looked different. His beard has grown out a lot since you last saw him, his scar no longer visible under the untamed hair, and he still wore that silly blue, very worn shirt that suited him so well, but he was still that same man who you fell in love with. The same man who drew pictures of you and taught you to ride a horse. The man who when he proposed dropped the ring cause he was so nervous. The man you thought would be your husband

“Say something’” Arthur whispers, his eyes watch you intently,

“I can’t do this anymore” you say barely above a whisper . His eyes go wide and a hand immediately holds your chin so you can’t turn away. His eyes frantically search your face,

“You’re leaving me?” He says with disbelief.

You close your eyes, as tears start to form. When you open them again, you look down at your ring finger. Sliding the gold band off, you hold it out to him. Disgust fills his face at this gesture, his grip on your chin loosens as he steps away from you.

“Y/N… no... I love you” he says, his voice cracking. His face is holds a frown, as he looks at you with hurt and disbelief,

“I love you too Arthur.. but it’s not enough, this is too…hard” your voice cracks and the tears fall down your cheek. You look away from him, but Arthur grips his hands on your arms, making you look up at him through watery eyes,

“It won’t be much longer darlin’…I know it don’t seem great now, but as soon as we have enough money we’ll be gone.. just the two of us” he reassures you with so much belief that you so badly want it to be true. However you know the horrible truth, that there was never going to be that time.. there is always one more job, one more favour to do.

You shake your head, “I think you know as much as me that ain’t the case… you’ll never change that part of you, I wouldn’t want you too. It’s what makes you who you are” you place your hand with the ring in over his heart, “but I am not the women who can live that life with you, I’m sorry”

You slip the ring into the breast pocket of his worn shirt. The same shirt he wore when you first met, it hugs his frame so well and was the first thing you noticed when you met him in Blackwater. The grin he gave you after he brought you a new drink to replace the one his friend Sean spilt when he was trying to dance on the saloon bar. Arthur was so carefree back then, but since the trouble in Blackwater it’s got worse. You respected his lifestyle but couldn’t be a part of it yourself, and had enough of moving all the time. Staying in Coulter was the breaking point, and you both agreed you would stay permanently in Valentine, since it was not meant to be long till you and Arthur left together.

Stepping back out of his grasp, his faces drops and he reaches out again taking your hand which his larger one.

“I love you…so much” Arthur mumbles confused, a broken look on his face that is no longer hidden by his facade of confidence

You smile weakly at him, tears running down your cheeks “I know”

Your voice cracking through the sobs as you pull your hand from his and turn for the door

“Goodbye Arthur”

You step through the door, closing it behind you before he does anything stupid, like kiss you. You knew that was all it would take to get you to stay, you love him too much. Leaning your back against the door you slide down, the sobs overtaking your body.

After a few seconds you hear Arthur’s foot steps recede , and then hooves disappearing until the house becomes silent.

#Spotify #arthur morgan x y/n #red dead #arthursty #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption arthur #red dead redemption community #thirsting after arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #fanfic #red dead fandom #sfw

[uponrightful]

So, I love possessive, jealous Crosshair 🥵 Tell me about this scene (please?):

“Trouble doesn’t suit you, doll.” He murmured lowly, soft voice contrasting the slight pressure over her pulse point and the swell of her hip. Crosshair was all-consuming and Dutch was weak to do anything but try to stay silent under his pressing weight and commanding presence at her back.

Also, I’d love to know what Echo was thinking once Cross went to the fresher after Dutch.

You’re the best! 😘

Commentary Track for Coriolis Effect

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I'll give you my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character's- when I wrote it!

*send one in here anytime!*

My oh my! 😍 What spicy scene we have here. I'll start with what's going on with Crosshair first, then I'll come back for Echo and the rest of the Batch. haha

***

Crosshair is fuming with rage during his conversation with Echo: It's that kind of bodily energy you get after watching a action-movie, where your whole body feels tired, but it's twitching with adrenaline that can't be spent or released. That kind of feeling you can't get rid of no matter what you do to ignore it, or work through it. Your mind feels like it working so fast that it's in slow-motion, overanalyzing the smallest details until your grinding your teeth because there's nothing else that helps relieve the pressure.

But the second he enters the refresher all of that energy snaps from anger and fear for Duchess, into dead calm. His inner voice stops screaming and evens out in tone and his hands stop shaking. His breathing slows and the second Cross sees her standing there, it's like he's been meditating deeply for hours. This kind of concentration is only present in Crosshair one other time... And you guessed it. When he's shooting.

Note: This is the epitome of Crosshair's ability to manage impulse-control in unfamiliar -and stressful- situations. Key-word here being "unfamiliar." I firmly believe that Cross is painfully terrible at monitoring and expressing his emotions. He has so many of them all the time that from a young age he had to learn how to turn them off in a moments notice, simply so he could survive. Think about it... How can a sniper worry about his brothers dying right before his eyes and still make clean shots? Not even Crosshair can do that. So the second he's certain Dutch is safe -by visually proving her health- that well-trained nature takes over to protect him like it always does.

Crosshair -at this point- isn't sure what he wants. He needs to touch her though, remind himself that she's tangible and within reach. Not that he isn't aware of his effect on her, but this moment isn't about sexual appeal or attraction. This is desperation, and Crosshair knows that; He's just banking on the hope that she'll let him, because she's always done so. He feels safe with Duchess, and even though this feels/looks sexy, Crosshair feels completely vulnerable right now.

Note: I will say it now; Once and for all. I have never subscribed to the idea that Crosshair is a typical Dominant/BDSM/Sadisim kind of guy. And the distinction is all to do with motivation. I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he acts the way he does, and how that manifests itself. So when I planned this scene, I wanted to focus on just how strong his desire to have security is. Not prowess, or control. It's all to do with the desperate need he has to prove how he feels about her. That kind of vulnerability just comes easier to him physically than it does emotionally. Duchess gives him a sense of stability -in and out of the sexual sense- that makes his characterization insanely complex and difficult to balance.

The moment he finds his words, it's a compulsory need to cover his own jealousy. Crosshair is undoubtedly unhappy knowing she went out with Regs... but what's really bothering him is how easy it is to feel so strongly for Duchess. Every time he speaks, it's intentionally driving attention towards someone else, and away from his own desire to be the focus of her attention. Cross uses his fear of her being unsafe to mask the jealousy that constantly compares himself to the others who can give her attention more freely than he can personally. Duchess sees his calm nature as patience and precision, but it's really Crosshair planning out what he's going to say because he knows one wrong move will reveal just how desperate he is to have her acceptance of him.

Note: I've never struggled to balance possessiveness and love like I have with Crosshair. He's so intense that if I'm not careful, he comes off like a walking red-flag. Word choice is essential when getting Cross' character and reactions right. Whether it be the way he talks to her, or the way he naturally falls into a protector role. That's why when I'm writing for him, it takes double the time it does to write anything else. Every movement, every word he says, needs to be written like he says it in the moment. That's the only way to show his softness... because the love that he gives is best felt in person. You can't describe Crosshair's love with words easily.

Now for sweet, sweet, Echo.

Let me preface this by saying: Echo is his brother's keeper. There is a relationship there that goes far deeper than the ones Crosshair holds for his other brothers. It happened slowly, but it wasn't until the two of them were too far into it that either recognized what had happened. Their personalities are something that wouldn't really mix on first glance, but for some reason or another, they just get each other. It's natural, and they gravitate towards each other.

That being said, Duchess and Echo are their own kind of dynamic. I see them as the "platonic-soulmate" kind. She has an intensity that Echo marvels at, and Dutch knows she could take any problem to him and he would do anything to help her. They both see something in the other that they wish they still had, or could develop. It's probably the purest friendship Duchess has ever had, and Echo can't help but harken back to Fives when he sees her attitude -in future chapters.

Note: From the first moment I created Duchess, I just knew in my heart she was meant to be something special to Echo. To me, it was only right that Crosshair's doll would feel strongly connected to Echo as well. Add in their common feeling of loss for brothers, and that just made their relationship that much stronger. She's such a force, and the ARC trooper can't help but find a enamorment with people who have such a strong will and fiery personality. (See Fives)

The moment Echo sees Crosshair, he's already preparing to do anything necessary to protect Duchess from incurring another possible hit to her bruised emotions. Echo trusts Crosshair, but he's highly attentive to Cross and how raw his emotions are. Their interaction is based in Echo's desire to save the couple from losing the chance to do things the right way. Intuition and experience guide Echo through the whole conversation; He really is flying by the seat of his blacks here... But he's so well-versed in reading Crosshair that none of the other Batcher's even think about offering to be the first one Crosshair faces when he comes in the bunk hall. Echo has unmatched faith in Cross, and this was something both of them knew would happen.

Note: Writing this scene was challenging for a number of reasons. For one, neither Echo or Crosshair really talk a whole lot. They say what they need to, and that's the end of it. So I spent days watching Echo and Crosshair's interactions. Trying to figure out what I could based off the -very little- examples I was given. In that, I found that the two of them hardly ever stand next to each other, but they're constantly sharing glances and looking at each other. Echo and Crosshair have silent conversations all. the. time.

Had Echo not allowed Crosshair to go and see Duchess, their sexy scene would have never happened. (And I played around with that idea very seriously...) Ultimately, Echo's intuition was the deciding factor. That conversation, and Crosshair's attempt at honesty was the reason Echo felt confident in letting him speak to her. And although Echo could sense Crosshair's patience running thin, he'd already told the rest of the Batch to be prepared for any fight. Echo wouldn't put it past Cross to stun him, but a gut-feeling kept him from mentally preparing to do the same thing.

Additionally, it was Echo who made everyone leave the bunk hall. The second Crosshair and himself reached an agreement, Echo was the first to step away. His next move was to shove the rest of the Batch out the doors and give Duchess and Crosshair the privacy needed to work through their shit. And although he expected it to end in sex, the desire to keep their business between them alone was Echo's main motivation to empty the bunk room. Neither Crosshair or Duchess really trust the Batch at this moment -in Echo's mind at least- and risking their privacy wasn't something the ARC would stand for. In the back of his mind though, Echo was terrified that Crosshair would fuck her and leave it at that. He's seen the sniper at his best and his worst, and although his best is wonderful, his worst can be miserable to endure. Echo was praying that Crosshair wouldn't be too harsh -physically and mentally- on Duchess.

When Hunter finally decided enough time had passed, Echo was on edge to see just where the two of them would be. The image of them sleeping in separate bunks: Crosshair pretending to sleep -like always- and Duchess laying quietly and pretending like nothing happened shook Echo to his core. But the second he saw her bunk in a disarray, and her not in it, Echo couldn't help but fucking grin. He was proud of his brother for doing the right thing. For doing something for himself, and not worrying about how it would make him look for once. Add in the way Crosshair reprimanded Tech, and how deathly serious he looked with her sleeping peacefully against him...?

That was the moment Echo knew for certain that Crosshair was never coming back from this. He saw a visible change in his brother, in the way his attitude changed. The way Crosshair wasn't worried about himself, or attempting to hide behind sneers and sarcastic comments. Echo noticed how attuned he was to her in that moment, putting her comfort above all else. For a man who pretended to not care about anything, Crosshair did a terrible job of hiding his true personality when Duchess was curled up into him. And Echo couldn't be happier, knowing that his trust in Crosshair hadn't been for nothing. Not only was his brother experiencing love in a way that all of them desired, but Duchess was never going to live with the question of whether or not someone truly cared for her.

***

I hope this was what you were looking for in-terms of answers 😅. I had a great time writing this for you, and I hope you'll feel comfortable doing this again whenever you feel like it! I love sharing the behind-the-scenes stuff with you! It makes the cuts and editing feel a little less sad knowing I might be able to share some of it with you anyways!

#uponrightful #uponrightfulwrites #coriolis effect #Crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #the bad batch #commentary track #saltywintersoldat