#and if you find the ones that are listed as fourth and fifth on the fanwiki please let me know

[fangirl-dot-com]

🚕Accidentally Kidnapping a Mafia Boss

*part of the reverse tropes series*

Pairing: MafiaBoss!Max Verstappen x UberDriver!Reader Genre: Crack/Humor/Fluff? Summary: Uber seemed like a brilliant plan to get money to buy a new car. However, a mistake has you picking up the wrong passenger. Pretty blue eyes turn dangerous when you notice the gun in his belt.

*this was actually so much fun to write! this is in no way dark whatsoever. it's super funny and the reader is pretty ditzy but it's all in good fun! hope you like it!*

TAG LIST CLOSED

You hummed to whatever tune was playing on your half-broken radio. Most of the lyrics came out as muffled voices, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because like the radio, your car was almost dead. 

Key word being almost. 

You had bought the car at the beginning of your high school career and refused to give it up. But, your father had finally convinced you to buy a new one. However, buying a new car was expensive, hence why you were driving around town at 7 p.m. on a Friday night trying to find someone who needed an Uber. 

Your family had mentioned how dangerous it was to drive for the “taxi” company, but no one else was hiring at this time. 

“It’s an easy way to make bank,” you had told your very confused parents. 

Your hand came up and smacked the top of the dash, causing the radio to spam for a moment before finally, clear voices played out. However, your eyebrows furrowed once you could actually listen to the song. 

“This is not my playlist,” you muttered while trying to get your Bluetooth to come back on. Once your fingers reached the dials, your phone lit up with an Uber notification. 

“Finally.”

You quickly put in the address and drove down the street. Your humming resumed, playlist reaching out through the speaker. You hadn’t even glanced at where the location was, or you would have realized that you were going in the wrong direction. 

When you were supposed to be going further into the town, you were headed for the city. The only place your parents refused to let you drive. 

It might have to do with the local mafia war that was going on. Something about track limits or whatnot. However, that was not going to stop you from getting paid that night. 

You finally came to a stop at the corner of what you thought to be Fifth and Main, like your phone said to stop at. The actual corner was Fourth and Main, but you couldn’t tell because half of the word “fourth” was smudged with some type of brown substance. 

Your shoulders raised in a shrug while your gaze landed back on your phone. At least you were supposed to be picking up a nice older looking lady. That’s what your Uber app said anyway. You leaned forward in the driver’s seat, making the entire car squeak. Before you knew it, your fingers had started to tap along to the song that was still playing. 

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut caught your attention. 

“Drive!” you heard from behind you. 

Your entire body turned in the seat as you looked to the back row of your car. 

That was not a nice looking old lady. 

The man that now resided on the back road had a mean glare as his eyebrows cocked. Sea blue eyes met your own as the man leaned forward and pointed out the window. 

“I said drive, let’s go!” the accented voice yelled.  

If you had taken a moment to actually look at the man, you would have noticed his roughed up suit, along with the bright red splatters along his white dress shirt. And on his belt line, a gun seemed to be tucked. 

But you hadn’t noticed. 

“Yes sir!” you cheerfully said, putting the car into drive. A loud boom sounded outside the car, but your radio had decided to turn up full blast, masking the sound. Your car squeaked as it started to move away from the corner and farther along the road. 

The man in the back seat seemed agitated, but slowly relaxed the farther away you got on the highway. He had leaned back against the window and rubbed his eyes. You wanted to keep glancing back at him, but you needed to drive. When you noticed that the Uber app had not updated with his next location, you gathered the courage to speak. However, he beat you to it. 

“Is this your first time?” 

You sheepishly grinned back at him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, is it that noticeable?” 

A grunt escaped his lips. 

“The damn Get Away Car sticker on the back is not very inconspicuous. You need to get rid of it.” 

“Oh! So you don’t like Taylor Swift that much?” 

The man glared at you through the rearview mirror, before he shut his eyes. His hand waved at you through the gap between the front seats. 

“Just don’t miss the exit.” 

“Sir, you’ll need to put in your location first.” 

His eyes shot open. “I guess this is your first day. How did you ever get through training?” 

You glanced back. “Training? It was all online?” 

A huff only answered as he reached for what you hoped was a phone in his pocket. 

“I’ll have to let Lando know that online training will not work.” 

You let out a nervous giggle, noting that there was no “Lando” in the Uber training video. But, once again, the money promised kept you going down the highway. You kept glancing at your phone, hoping that the guy would just put his address in. Now you were getting annoyed.

“Sir, I really need the address or I’ll have to make you get out.” 

A click near your ear made you freeze. 

“Who do you think you are? Giving orders to de Leeuw.” 

You had definitely picked up the wrong person. You wanted to start explaining yourself, but the gun near your head made the words die out in your throat. You could feel his breath on your ear as he spoke. This would be hot, if you weren’t scared to lose your life. 

“Now, you’re going to tell me who you are and why you don’t know where the right exit is. Are you working for Hamilton? Vettel? Alonso?” 

You were so caught up in not wanting to die that you missed the car in front of you slamming on your breaks. You were thankful for your fast reflexes as your foot pressed down on the left pedal, making your car lurch to a halt. A thump on the back of your seat had you reeling around to see what had happened to the blond man. 

You were surprised to see him now sprawled on the back seats, eyes closed and gun now on the floor. Your hands were shaking as you were now able to take a random exit. When you got to a random parking lot, your head hit the steering wheel. 

“I have de Leeuw in my back seat.” 

Your breathing started to grow ragged. 

“I have  de Leeuw in my back seat!” 

You were now panicking. 

“I HAVE AN FUCKING UNCONSCIOUS MAFIA BOSS IN MY BACK SEAT!” 

Charles’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Max’s tracker come to a stop in a parking lot. The Dutchman was supposed to come back right away after a swift deal with Gasly on the other side of town. But, Charles’s heart had dropped when the car, that Max was supposedly in, turned at an exit too soon. He took off his headset and rolled his chair over a bit. 

“Lando, who was picking Max up today after the deal? Was it Carlos?” 

The curly-haired Briton spun in his seat to look at his fellow mafia worker. 

“Uh, Carlos called in sick. I thought it was Oscar’s turn?” 

Something felt weird in Charles’s stomach. 

“No, Oscar is on that mission? Daniel was then after Oscar.” 

Lando’s eyes widened with fear. “Daniel is out of the country.” 

The Monegasque turned back to his computer screen. All vitals for Max were still good, but he had yet to leave the location. His finger pointed and pressed against the screen. 

“Then . . . who has Max?” 

Back in the parking lot, you had gotten out of the car and were currently rocking back and forth in the fetal position. 

“This is not happening. Why did this happen to me? I only needed some money. Why did I get stuck with a mafia boss. I want to live. I need to get back home to my plant and cat.” 

Last time you checked, de Leeuw was still out cold. You had taken the gun just in case he woke up in a panic and started to shoot at stuff. That would not end well for you. You grabbed your phone and pushed a button. 

“Yes? Hi? Hello, I am calling about what to do if I picked up the wrong passenger. Uh-huh. Yes. I didn’t have his address. Well, no. He’s unconscious. I can’t call the police, he probably owns them. What? Ok. No? The hospital is under the law as well? Yep. I can’t just take him back! No, wait. Don’t hang up. Uhg.” 

So much for customer service. 

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket. Your feet took you over to your car, and you opened the back seat. The blond man was still looked like he was asleep. Your face got closer to his. 

Hm. Up close he was quite handsome. The freckle on his lip really added bonus points. You were so engrossed with the small dot that you missed the twitch of his eyes under his eyelids. When you looked back up, your eyes met blue, which made you shriek and fall back on your butt. 

Max was a bit out of it when he was trying to wake up. What he wasn’t expecting was a face to be so close to his when his eyes finally opened. He would laugh if he had the strength as he watched you fall onto the concrete. His hand immediately went to his belt, but his heart dropped when he didn’t feel his gun. 

“Looking for this?” you asked, gun outstretched at the man in your back seat. Max’s eyes widened at the gun pointed to his head. It took all of his strength to put his hands up. 

“You don’t want to do this,” is the first calm thing that the man said to you. You, however, kept the gun pointed directly at him. 

“You’re right, I don’t. But I can’t have you freak out on me and shoot my face. Who would take care of my cat back home? My cousin Lan could, but he kills everything.” 

Max registered the slight hitch in your voice. While his hands were still up, he took a moment to look around the parking lot. In the depths of his mind, he was hoping that Lando or at least Charles were on their way to come get him. Yet, his heart rate rose as he saw a few familiar things surrounding him. 

He turned back to you. “Ok, you need to listen to me. We are in Rosberg territory right now. And he’s not going to like us on his property. So, you need to give me the gun and get back into the car.” 

Your eyes flickered around, and caught some movement to the left and then to the right. You slowly inched the gun down as you walked closer. When you were right in front of the Dutchman, you quickly handed him the gun as you rounded the car to the drivers seat. 

Max quickly reloaded the unloaded gun with a smirk on his face. You couldn’t have shot him if you tried. It took a bit for him to do it, but when the magazine fit back in the gun, he was wondering why you hadn’t taken off yet. 

“We have to go, now,” he said sternly. 

You turned around. “But I need to find a good get-away-song.” 

Max could count the pout on your lips as adorable, if it weren’t for the fact that Rosberg’s men were quickly making their way to the car. 

“You’re going to have to pick a good funeral song if you don’t hit the gas pedal.” 

“Aha!” 

The music blared out of the broken speaker as you finally put the car into drive. You heard metal hit metal and prayed that you still could trade your car out for another (even with a few bullet holes). 

Max had pressed himself up against the back seat, gun cocked and ready. 

“You better not shoot out my back window. I have to trade this car for a new one.” 

Max muttered, “You won’t trade anything if you’re dead.” 

“I heard that!” 

The mafia boss ignored you as he kept watch. When a few cars started to gain, that’s when he leaned back and aimed the gun, firing shots through your back windshield, shattering the glass. 

“Do you listen to anyone? Or is my voice just static in your brain?” you asked as you swerved onto the highway. When Max didn’t answer, you huffed. You steadily drove your car down the big roads as Max tried his best to keep the cars at bay. 

“How far am I driving?” 

Max grunted as he ducked from a bullet. “Just until exit 7. That’s my track.” 

You wanted to hit your head on the steering wheel once again. “You’re telling me that if I just kept driving, I wouldn’t be in this situation?” 

When he didn’t answer, you swerved a bit to knock him off balance. Your chuckles hit Max’s ear, pissing him off even more. 

“And to think, I was going to replace this utter junk if you made it out alive.” 

“We’re not done yet mister.” 

There was still a bit of road to go, and you were hoping that Max would try to shoot out one of their tyres, instead of trying to shoot at their drivers. He was about reload when he heard a clicking sound. Max really wanted to through himself out the door. 

“Is your blinker seriously on right now?” 

Your fully turned around to glare. 

“Yes.” 

You jerked the wheel as you got onto exit 7, making the cars behind slowly back away and continue on the highway. You wiggled in your seat as you did a little celebration. When some familiar houses came into sight, you gasped. 

“My cousin lives around here!” 

Max was out of breath as he was flabbergasted by your upbeat spirit. “Cousin?” 

“Yeah! He has this like high tech job and stuff. I come over to swim in the summer.” 

He had no words as you pulled up to a familiar house. You scrambled out the door and fell face flat on the asphalt. 

“Sweet mother, thank you, thank you.” 

You could kiss the ground, but that would be super unsanitary. When the garage creaked, you quickly got up and scrambled behind Max, who raised his gun out of instinct. However, he wanted to laugh when he saw his two best friends in full oversized gear. 

The two friends froze at the sight of their boss and, well, Lando’s cousin. 

“Y/n?” the Briton questioned, pulling the visor on the oversized helmet up. 

Your sprung in your place. 

“Lando!” 

“Max?” 

“Charles?”

Lando squinted at you. 

“Y/n?” 

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. 

“Lando?” 

The curly-haired man rushed at you, making you dodge around Max. Which, that resulted in Lando chasing you around the yard. 

“You kidnapped my friend?” 

“Why are you friends with de Leeuw and apparently Il Predestinato? I’m telling Aunt Cisca!”

“Not if I tell your mum that you Ubered in the city!” 

Max and Charles watched as the two of you ran after each other, hurling insults and threats. The two jumped when they heard a loud creak behind them and then a crash. When they looked, your car was down to the ground, wheels askew. 

“My car! De Leeuw, you’re paying for that!”  

uber_y/n has posted

uber_y/n new baby from my new baby 🖤

liked by bestie, land0, max_v, and 204 others

bestie um excuse me ma'am 🤨 what happened to bessie? 😭

uber_y/n someone (not saying any names [max] ) SHATTERED HER BACK WINDOW

max_v I hope you like bessie 2.0 schatje

uber_y/n I dooooooo(not)

max_v woman 🙄

land0 you just had to go for my cousin 😐😑😐

uber_y/n he was very charismatic, unlike you noRIZZ 🫵💀

sharl_lec pls, for the love of everything good in this world, quit uber

uber_y/n NOPE on my way to pick up someone named...lewis?

max_v oh no

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[bellaxgiornata]

Too Much

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: With his heightened senses, tonight is one night you know Matt is guaranteed to need some comfort.

Warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, poor Matty is in need of a hug

a/n: This is something I wrote in about an hour just thinking about Matt in Hell’s Kitchen during the Fourth of July celebrations and figured I'd share. It was only quickly edited and is currently just on tumblr (not AO3). Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt Murdock one shot tag list: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte

On today of all days you found yourself incredibly worried about Matt.

Earlier you'd called him multiple times just to see how he was holding up this evening, but he hadn't answered a single time. His lack of response had only concerned you further, making you consider just turning up at his place unannounced. It wasn't until shortly after you'd dialed him for a fifth time while desperately hoping you weren't making things worse for him that he'd simply texted you back with just two words that were clearly a cry for help.

Please come.

Your stomach had twisted into knots at his text. If one thing always held true about your vigilante boyfriend, it was that Matt rarely ever asked for help. And certainly never from you.

Now twenty minutes later you'd rushed straight through the chaos of Hell's Kitchen to his building. Unlocking the door to his apartment with the key he had given you only a few short months ago, you weren't entirely sure what state you'd find him in inside–which only made you more nervous.

You'd known what today was when you’d woken this morning long before New York City had become a sea of noise. Even before the mass of people had been out celebrating on the streets with all the cars honking and the drunken shouting, you had known how loud the world must have become for him. And you could certainly guess at how much worse things were becoming as the first fireworks were being set off in the city while the sun was still sinking its way below the horizon.

Because today was the Fourth of July–Independence Day–and you knew this night of all nights was guaranteed to be absolute hell for Matt with his senses.

Pushing his apartment door open, you carefully made your way inside as quietly as you could. All of the lights were turned off, something you'd already expected to find. Despite him not having a use for them himself, he often had them already on in anticipation of your arrival in order to make you comfortable. But no doubt he'd kept them off tonight in order to avoid the excess noise from their electrical hum. Though the obnoxious billboard across the street was more than bright enough for you.

Refraining from calling out to him as you carefully shut the door behind yourself, you closed it as softly as you possibly could. You knew Matt was here somewhere and probably quite aware of every additional noise you were adding to the sounds of the city outside. That in turn made you hyper-aware of yourself. The sound of you slipping out of your shoes and lightly stepping through the apartment was louder to you than usual, the noise making you cringe with each step as you scanned the empty living room. Even your breathing sounded far too loud.

Another loud bang bang thundered in the distance and you winced. How that must have sounded to Matt you'd never know, but you didn't have long to ponder that thought. As you'd made your way around the leather couch, you'd caught the sound of the shower running just at the end of the short hallway beside his bedroom. Brows furrowing together, you wondered if that's where you'd find Matt.

Carefully padding barefoot through his living room, you maneuvered your way around the sparse furniture in the apartment. Another series of loud, echoing booms began again, though these fireworks were much closer than the previous round you'd heard. Judging by the darkness outside, one of the many firework shows around the city must have just begun. You found yourself grimacing at every explosion nearby as you crept your way towards the bathroom.

Pausing in the hallway, you were surprised to see the door to the bathroom partially ajar when you reached it. The sound of the shower running was unmistakable now. As you stood there you could see the faint steam wafting out into the hall, billows of it slipping between the opening. Slowly you reached up, nudging the door open with a hand.

It was no surprise that the bathroom was dark, but unlike the living room, there wasn't much light from the billboard across the street to help illuminate the space. Cautiously you stepped inside, the humidity from the warm shower hitting you instantly as you squinted, attempting to see the space around you better.

“Matt?” you whispered.

There was a brief silence before you received an answer.

“Shower.”

He'd spoken the single word with such apparent pain that you hurried straight towards the sound of his voice. In the faint glow of the billboard determinedly seeping in from down the hallway, you could just make out Matt's form sitting on the floor of his shower. It looked as if he was hunched over with his face buried in his hands. Your heart ached at the sight of him sitting there in obvious agony. He seemed so small curled beneath the spray of water in comparison to the man you often saw.

Without a word you began to strip out of your jeans and shirt on the spot, dropping the clothes by your feet just in front of the shower. You peeled off your bra and underwear next, discarding them onto the bathroom floor beside your other clothes. Fully undressed, you reached out and carefully pulled back the glass door of his shower before stepping inside. You closed it after yourself gently before lowering yourself to the floor beside Matt, your hands tentatively touching his shoulders in an attempt to silently alert him to your presence.

His reaction was immediate. Matt turned towards you, his arms easily snaking their way around your waist so tight as he drew himself against the front of your body. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, he pressed his ear to your throat just below your pulse point. In mere seconds Matt had quickly trapped you between the shower wall and his own naked body.

Your hands hesitantly touched him in return, moving slow and careful so as to only bring him comfort instead of more overwhelming stimulation. Left hand resting on his lower back, your right hand cautiously ran up the nape of his neck, tangling loosely within the damp strands of his hair. When another loud firework roared through the night and Matt only held onto you more firmly, you figured your touch was welcomed and you continued to slowly stroke his hair in silence.

Sitting there on the shower floor, warm water cascading down the pair of your naked and entangled bodies, you could feel Matt's reaction to every loud, repetitive bang just outside of the apartment. Each time you felt his muscles tense against you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your back as he noticeably flinched in your arms. Eventually you'd even noticed how he would stop breathing, holding it in anticipation right before a particularly loud boom rang out.

As you sat there on the hard tile floor holding each other naked in the shower, you admittedly didn't exactly know how this was helping Matt with the overload to his senses–your best guess being a form of physical white noise to him–but it didn't matter. Because you were prepared to sit with him in silence on the floor of his shower for as long as he needed you tonight, especially after the weak and strained ‘thank you’ you heard him whisper into the damp skin of your shoulder.

[katakaluptastrophy]

Imagine being the Cohort soldiers from the Erebos who were sent respond to Judith's distress call.

They land to find a dead Lyctor, run through with a Cohort infantry sword, and two new Lyctors, one freshly missing an arm. I doubt either of them were particularly coherent by that stage.

And then they go to clear the inside of the building. In the room the transmission came from, there's a dead priest and an enormous pool of blood, but no sign of captain Deuteros. Her cavalier is missing an eye and seems to have been blown open from the inside.

A room down the hall is singed and splattered with blood and chunks of human flesh. Perhaps there are fragments of grey robes, or perhaps some poor psychometrist works out that they're looking at what's left of the Master Warden of his House.

Further into the building they enter a study with the words "YOU LIED TO US" daubed across an ancient and beautiful mural. The Third House cavalier lies dead on the floor, stabbed from behind. The Master Templar of the Eighth is lying dead, his throat slit, apparently by his own cavalier's sword. And his cavalier... His eyes are gone, there is something wrong with his mouth. His wrist and neck are broken. The whole room is dripping and sticky with blood and human fat.

Searching past the kitchen, they find the morgue. There's a bowl of ashes (two people's, dead before the pilgrimage even began, confirms the by now very shaken psychometrist). One of drawers lies open and the sheet has been roughly pulled off the body inside: the utterly shattered body of the Fifth House necromancer is lying there, her blouse rolled up to her ribs, a fist sized hole in her abdomen.

Neatly lying under sheets in the other drawers there are more bodies, and the preserved severed head of the Seventh House cavalier. There is no sign of his body. The Fourth House cavalier has been impaled through the chest, shoulders and legs, precisely, like an insect for display. Her necromancer...it might be easier to list the places where he hasn't been impaled. The Fifth House cavalier is just as destroyed as his necromancer: limbs broken, body horribly mangled.

Later, they find the bloodsoaked bed with "sweet dreams" daubed on the wall in blood. If they get as far as the facility, they discover the outlines of two horribly broken bodies surrounded by necromantic diagrams drawn on the floor in pen. One unremarkable room is splattered in blood and singed with spirit fire.

The building is full of collapsed skeleton constructs, seemingly mid task, as if all struck down simultaneously, and as they explore they find more dead priests. They find no sign of the Sixth or Ninth cavaliers, or the Crown Princess of the Third, or of Captain Deuteros. And from what they've already seen, this can't feel encouraging.

It's clear that this building has witnessed necromantic horrors beyond their comprehension. What were the scions of the Houses doing, or what was being done to them? What could possibly cause what they have seen?

And I can't imagine that after seeing the truth of what happened at Canaan House, that John would have taken the risk of those soldiers revealing what they had seen. After all, he's a very careful guy.

[ekingston]

A chef!AU, maybe? In any case, a story in which Kara and Lena meet through one of them preparing/serving/etc food for the other and build their relationship based on that.

(also on ao3.)

“I’m telling you, Alex. It’s her.”

At three pm on a Tuesday their restaurant is characteristically dead, save for the one lone customer Kara is spying on from behind the kitchen doors. The woman is perched, a little perilously, on a barstool at the counter. It’s the one that’s closest to their register, the one with the wobbly leg that Alex keeps telling Kara to fix. One of her red-soled heels is dangling from an impatiently bouncing left foot.

“This is the fourth time this week she’s come in here,” Kara says. “You don’t think that’s just a little bit suspicious?”

Alex shrugs, fully committed to her task of mincing onions. “Maybe she’s just a big fan of Italian food.”

“No way,” Kara says. “No woman who looks like that would put something in her mouth that wasn’t clearly marked gluten-free and vegan. Give me your phone.”

Alex rolls her eyes dramatically as she elbows it over. “Tell me again how you’re totally over Siobhan.”

“Oral sex isn’t a moral issue!” Kara takes a decisive breath while she unlocks her sister’s phone with practiced ease. “Whatever. Water under the bridge.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A love for pasta also doesn't explain why I heard this woman answer a call yesterday with a different name than the one that’s on her credit card,” Kara points out, before snapping a quick picture through the porthole window.

“Okay, now you’re being creepy,” Alex says.

“Shut up,” Kara tells her. “I’m texting Winn.”

Kara eyes the woman at the counter while she waits for his reply. The subject of her suspicion—Lena, she’d called herself on the phone; Tess Mercer, it had said on her mastercard—twists a soft-looking lock of dark hair around her finger as she studies their menu. The way the sunlight sets it ablaze almost makes Kara take a second picture, purely for its artistic merit.

Alex dabs at her onion-induced tears with the cuff of her sleeve. “Let it go, Kara,” she sighs.

“Let it go? Let it—” Kara whirls back to face her, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Do you want The Tower to end up like Winn and James’ steakhouse? Or are you fine with getting swindled by this—this… villain?”

“Of course not.” Alex looks at her like she’s stupid. “But even if this woman is your so-called ‘food influencer’, what do you suggest we do about it? It’s not as if we can bully her into giving us a fair review.”

Kara squares her jaw and sets her fists firmly on her hips. “No,” she declares, her tone grim. “But we can teach her a little about journalistic integrity.” She blows at a lock of hair that’s fallen in her face. “And also, possibly, credit card fraud.”

Alex narrows her eyes at her. “Kara,” she warns, putting down her knife. Her voice is low and cautious, as if she’s talking to the rowdy raccoon that moved into their dumpster three weeks ago instead of to her baby sister. “Let’s just take a breath and think about this for a m—”

Kara is already gone, the doors to the kitchen swinging closed behind her. Sliding into the cluttered space behind the counter, she crosses her arms and then drops her elbows on the bar, leaning what she belatedly realizes is probably a little too close to her adversary. She’s close enough to make out the individual downy hairs on her chin and the lines in her painted lips, which are still pursed thoughtfully in what Kara is sure would look like an attractive pout to someone who didn’t know any better.

But Kara knows so much better.

“Let me guess,” she remembers to get out, much less biting than originally intended. “Today you’ll be having the fifth entrée down the list.”

As soon as their eyes meet over the miniscule amount of space left between them, Kara knows leaning in was a fatal mistake. Her nemesis blinks up at her with wide, startled eyes that remind Kara of the glass pebbles she finds on the beach on her morning walks, not-quite-blue and not-quite-green, and for a moment Kara’s brain sputters out as if someone abruptly turned off the flames that kept it cooking.

But the woman recovers fast, like the scheming scoundrel that she is. She guiltily shutters her eyes behind thick, charcoal lashes, and Kara’s temper revives at the observation that her enemy isn’t as good of an actress as she thinks she is.

“I’ve actually been thinking of breaking my own rule,” she says, with a smile that lands somewhere between self-deprecating and apologetic. “I may give in and order the same thing you served me yesterday.” Kara goes hot all over with righteous indignation at the rich timbre of the woman’s voice, the almost flirtatious lilt it takes on when she adds, “I haven’t been able to stop dreaming about it.”

Kara pulls back a little in an effort to escape that curious gaze, the enticing scent of the woman’s perfume. It’s sweet enough to drown out even Alex’s mountain of onions. “I know what you’re doing,” she blusters.

The—frankly unfairly beautiful—soulless grifter stares at her, stricken. “I’m—I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” Kara says. “I know who you are.” And then, as if she’s putting down the last card in a game of Uno, “Lena.”

The woman goes very still for a moment, and then the corners of her lips tug down in a bitter semblance of a smile. “I see,” she says. She’s rigid, regal; she’s royalty perched on a wobbly wooden stool. “And am I to assume that’s enough for you to turn down my patronage?”

Kara’s resolve wobbles, too. She hadn’t expected her adversary—Lena, she now knows—to roll over so easily. “Well, yeah, obviously,” she flusters, her energy suddenly too large and lumbering in the face of Lena’s deference. “Winn and James are family.”

“Family.” There’s a flicker of wistfulness in Lena’s voice, before confusion colors her features. “So the cold shoulder,” she says. “It’s personal?”

Kara scoffs. The fraudster doesn’t even remember the names of her latest victims. Typical. “It was their steakhouse that you razed to the ground last month,” Kara reminds her.

Lena blinks at her. “The establishment just up the road?” She raises a critical eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure they set themselves up for failure when they decided to name their restaurant Misteak.”

Kara huffs. Her air quotes are appropriately vicious when she says, “They were doing just fine before your slanderous ‘review’ went viral.”

Lena does a remarkably convincing impression of someone who is genuinely flabbergasted. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Liar.”

Lena’s shocked laughter is bright but brief. It’s the first time Kara has heard her laugh. It’s maddeningly attractive and deeply annoying.

“Okay,” Lena says. She folds her arms in front of her chest and leans back a little in her seat, unaware of its delicate disposition. A smirk tugs at one corner of her mouth. “Tell me,” she says, her eyes narrowing. “Who do you think I am, exactly?”

Kara leans in close again, refusing to allow Lena to get the upper hand. She’d like to wipe that smirk from Lena’s face—manually, if need be—preferably, even, if it means she’d get to smudge that infuriatingly immaculate lipstick with her thumb—

“You,” Kara charges, in an effort to drown out that unhelpful thought, “are a fraud. You call yourself a ‘mystery food critic’ on TikTok, but really you’re blackmailing businesses into buying a favorable review.”

“Hey, um.” Alex has followed her out of the kitchen, holding her phone. “So. Winn texted back, and he says—”

But Lena laughs again, her guarded posture melting down to unmistakable relief. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice a high warble. “That sounds awful. And also extremely illegal. Have you reported this person to the authorities? I can get you in touch with an excellent lawyer, if you’d like.”

Kara doesn’t know if she feels more outraged or confused.

…Or possibly some secret third thing.

“So you’re telling me—” Kara barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re saying you’re not her.”

“This, ehm— Tic Tac person?” When Lena’s dark lashes flutter, something in Kara’s chest flutters too. “No.”

Impossible. “Then why have you been in here every day this week?” Kara interrogates, the full force of evidence she’s collected behind it. “When neither one of us has seen you here even once, since we opened?”

Alex rolls her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t sure whether I’d seen her here before,” she points out. “Also, Winn says—”

“Oh please,” Kara scoffs, her eyes fixed on Lena, who has propped her elbows on the counter again, closer now than she’d been the last time their eyes met. “As if you could forget a woman as beautiful as—” Kara’s gaze drops to Lena’s mouth, unbidden, when Lena parts those rude, ruby lips. “...You.”

Alex stares.

Kara swallows.

Lena blinks; two times fast, and then again, after a beat, slow and sticky, her eyes darkening.

“So you may as well come out with it,” Kara croaks out what little remains of her anger. “There’s something you want more than our fettuccine.”

Lena’s cheeks have turned a treacherously charming shade of pink. “I suppose you’re right about that one, at least,” she admits after a beat.

In Kara’s peripheral vision, Alex frantically slides her hand across her throat. Kara frowns at her, telegraphing a wordless what is your problem but finding no satisfactory answer in the crimson shade her sister’s face has taken on.

“Yeah, well,” she says, almost disappointed, fumbling to fill the space left by Lena’s confession. “I’m telling you right now that it’s never going to happen.”

Alex clears her throat with startling force. “Winn wants to know,” she says, reading from her phone, “Who’s the hot chick?”

When Kara returns her gaze to the woman on the other side of the counter, she gulps. Lena is somehow even closer than she was before. She’s also fully propping herself up now on the laminate surface between them, granting Kara a glimpse of freckled cleavage that in no possible universe could be interpreted as unintentional.

“So,” Lena drawls. “What you’re saying is you’re not going to give me your number?”

Kara’s throat is suddenly very dry.

“Huh?” she manages, but only just barely.

“I was hoping,” Lena says slowly, that maddening smirk once again tugging up the corner of her mouth, “that you’d maybe like to—”

Lena shifts in her seat, crossing her legs in what is bound to become a devastatingly seductive pose, but the barstool decides in exactly that moment that's it’s finally had enough. Lena yelps as it gives out beneath her with a dramatic snap, one of its rickety limps flying across the floor as if celebrating its first taste of freedom, and Kara’s never considered herself to be very quick, but here she is anyway, on the other side of the counter in what feels like less than a second, one hand gripping Lena’s forearm, the other slipping smoothly around her waist.

“—fuck,” Lena gasps up at her. She feels good, in Kara’s hands, slight but pleasantly heavy, like the santoku knife Alex has forbidden Kara from touching ever again. “Well,” Lena says. “That’s. Perhaps not the way I would have phrased it, especially in front of your friend—”

They both glance over at Alex, but she’s disappeared, the swaying of the kitchen doors the only indication she was ever there.

“O-kay,” Kara says.

Lena grins. “Okay?”

Kara mentally rewinds the conversation and feels her ears burn at the realization of what she just agreed to. “I mean,” she amends. “We could, maybe, grab something to eat first?”

Something devious sparks in Lena’s terrifyingly gorgeous face. She glances down at Kara’s arms before blinking back up at her again and smirking. “I thought you already had.”

And, goodness gracious.

Kara is about to be in so much trouble.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 - chapter one mafia! charles leclerc x fem! reader ( fluff ) series summary . . . after preparing your whole life to be married off to a mafia boss, you now have the difficult task of figuring out your new marriage and life, ensuring they don't turn out to be miserable.

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chapter one summary . . . it's hard to process as the day goes by and you cant snap yourself out of your thoughts. it has happened but it has not yet registered, and as charles holds your hand, you can't help but let your mind wander on what comes next. (448 words) content warning . . . ( contains smut, 18+ mdni; pnv, vanilla mostly, over stim if you squint, inexperienced/virgin! reader )

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The croaking in the night gave you a sense of comfort. Leaning your arms on the balcony railing, you watched the trees sway in the cool wind. The high moon provided enough light to see the wide garden below, on which you plan to add more colour and atmosphere.

There are many things for you to figure out in the morning, the most important being getting this chaotic villa in order and mapping out the neighbourhood to find the pond where all the frogs are probably residing.

You’ll, of course, have to figure out your new responsibilities as well. As the wife of Charles Leclerc and the co-leader of the Monégasque underworld, many duties are waiting for you.

The most important of which is probably making sure that Charles didn't drive himself nuts; helping him save some sanity for family time and personal duties that come with being a mortal human.

Speaking of Charles. You heard the door of the ensuite bathroom click open. Glancing through the corner of your eye without turning fully you could see the red towel wrapped around his waist, his body shining with just a bit of the water that hasn't dried yet.

You looked back in front of you when he noticed you looking down to stubbly study him. You could hear his footsteps near and the towel brushing against his skin. He was probably drying himself.

"You'll get a cold," He muttered leaning on the railing beside you. You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from mumbling a comment about him being more naked than you. And just as gently as he has been with you all day, Charles puts the red towel on your wet hair.

You turned your head, staring deep into his green eyes— a beautiful colour you could never understand. You stayed still, watching as he stood up straight to gently ruffle your hair dry with the towel using both his hands.

Your eyes fluttered shut from a stray strand which Charles quickly brushed away moving to stand behind you to take care of your hair. When you open your eyes again you see that the moon had set. It left the sky and neighbourhood dark in its wake.

You don't know where it had gone off to, but that allowed the stars to shine. And for their beauty, you admired. The Grandfather clock downstairs chimed. It was loud you could hear it from here. The old jingle and melody always scared you as a child, especially at night. You never knew you still had that fear.

Charles had noticed your jolt when the chime played. He gently moved your hair off your shoulder placing a kiss to the back of your neck.

Ding, the clock chanted loudly through the empty house, providing you with ever comfort.

You sucked in a breath when you felt the warm muscular hands wrap around your waist.

Two chimes.

The Monegasque's fingers found the string to the string to the silk robe you'd pulled from his closet. It was red. You couldn't understand his obsession with the colour.

Three chimes.

Breathing in and closing your eyes, you felt Charles peer off your shoulders, his fingers delicately pulling the messy bow untied.

The fourth and fifth rings followed as Charles trailed his hands up your shoulders, burying his face in your hair and breathing in. And if you could plead to the stars. Plead that what comes next is as beautiful as they say. Plead that they'd keep you safe.

You gulp as the silk is pulled off to fall at your feet, soft cool wind greeting your skin.

At the 6th ring, Charles wrapped his arms around your stomach and pressed the chest to your back. His body offered you heat and protection. You could feel the lines of his muscles on your back, how his thumb gently stroked the skin of your stomach.

With the next ring, you're body lit up with a gasp. Charles pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, his hands moving to your hips, giving a little squeeze.

The eighth, ninth, and tenth rings followed; each "ding!" giving Charles a cue to kiss more to touch more. And each time you stayed quiet, feeling your chest rise up and down deeply. In fear was it? Or anticipation? Curiosity? Expectation.

On the eleventh ring, you let Charles pull your cheek back so he could press a kiss to your lips. You let the stars out of your sight as you kissed back, electricity stinging you somehow in your lower spine. His lips were soft. Softer than you expected.

Feeling another set of lips on yours felt weird as well. Feelings his lips. Charles' lips. Charles' back. Charles' fingers, his arms, his chest rising and falling, the steady lub-dub lub-dub vibrating in his chest onto your back.

Such foreign. Feelings that you don't understand and don't want to end.

When the twelfth ring comes, Charles takes a step back and pulls you with him from your hips. But you don't go with him and his touch disappears. Your hands gripped the railing until your knuckles turned white, preventing you from returning to the warm bedroom with him.

You face front and look down at the garden. And for some reason, your body felt empty as you listen to Charles sigh and retreat to the warm bed.

You look up to the stars, wishing they could provide you with some comfort. And if they could talk, they'd most likely scold you.

Charles is not your enemy. He's not going to hurt you, he's shown that a lot today. He's going to be the rest of your life. And you don't want to make this situation worse. You want to be happy. You want a happy marriage.

Charles looked up from where he sat on his side, his eyes following you as you stepped inside, closing the sliding glass after yourself and taking steps till you were standing in front of him.

You pulled the two rings off your finger, sliding the wedding band back on and holding the purity ring for Charles to take. He looked up at you, understanding what you were asking him to do. What you didn't expect him to do was hold your hand and hold your palm to his mouth, leaving a kiss as he pulled the ring in his mouth.

Your face flushed red at the look his eyes gave you as he looked up at you through his eyebrows, moving his tongue in his mouth to wear the ring on his tongue.

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"Relax," Charles huffed, holding your hips down as he ripped open a packet with his other hand and teeth. "You know you can look," He says sliding the condom on.

"I— I don't know." You stutter, keeping your head laid back with your eyes screwed shut, hands over your face from the embarrassment you're feeling. The man chuckles and holds your hips. His smile widens when you yelp as he pulls your lower back onto his lap so your body is at an angle.

"I want you to look, I want you to know what's happening." He tries again, peeling your wrists off your face when he's unsuccessful and pinning them to your stomach instead. "Open your eyes," He ordered rather softly and you complied.

"There's nothing to be scared of," Charles promises as you run your eyes over the position he put you in before looking back in his green eyes. The brunette was sitting on his knees with your ass on his lap, your parted thighs at either side of his waist, his hands gently pining your wists down.

"Tell me if it's too much, if you want to stop, if it hurts, if you don't like it." He says, pulling you further up on his lap, leaning to bend his toes forward for extra support. "I'm with you the whole time," He whispered once more time, looking down at you.

Charles found himself laughing as your face flushed, embarrassed by the noise you made. "It's okay," He tells you with a smile, one that is oddly comforting. The Monegasque had barely pushed in and you'd squeaked loudly in surprise. You frowned, feeling a sense of shame and humiliation that he laughed.

A grunt left your lips as he shuffled closer and pulled you higher in his, leaning his body to yours. "It's okay," he smiles again, trying to get you to relax. You let him kiss you, hesitantly copying his movements to kiss him back. "You learn fast," Charles grunted pushing his hips and pulling yours.

A strangled cry left your lips which was swallowed in a kiss quickly by the man on top. Your hands flew out of his grip, one finding his hand another an arm. "You're doing great," His comforting voice came again, pushing further causing your body to arch up to his. He held back your arm and hand, pressing the latter to his chest.

"You're doing so good," He praised as you pressed your head back in discomfort, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. "So good, amour."

"You're going to split me," You whimpered, digging your nails into his arm and heels in the mattress. The feeling was foreign, stretching you out too far in hot pain. You didn't know what to make of the part of Charles inside.

"No no no," Charles shook his head, leaning his hands on either side of his head so he could hold his body up and show you. "Look, you're taking me so well," He held your cheek for a moment before putting his hand on your stomach.

You're glad at least one of you knew what he was doing. When you're body accepted Charles he'd started moving slowly, you were glad that he let you hold his hands, even entwining your fingers together.

This time around, you let the noises roll past your lips as Charles thrust his hips to meet yours. He held up your hands above your head, fingers entwined, bodies pressed together, utterly connected. He drank every moan you gave him like a starved man, leaving hickeys where he kissed your neck and shoulders.

At some point you found your arms wrapped around his back, your nose nuzzled in his neck. You felt your body rock back and forth with the quick pace of his thrusts, feeling deliciously full. It felt like you were whole. Like all the wrongs in the world were correct. Like this was where you were meant to be, all along.

With every pull and push, your tummy flutters and a soft moan falls from your lips.

Charles was grunting and moaning now too, his soft breath in your ear as he whispered to you in French. And you had to admit you loved his voice, his noises. Seeing him in this state— it was a beautiful sight, one you admired with half-lidded eyes.

Hearing him call your name as he nibbled on your ear and neck, whispering things like 'You fit me perfectly,' or 'You feel so good I don't think I'll stop,' or 'You're so perfect'. It filled you with confidence maybe a bit of bravery. It made some coil— some ecstasy inside of you tighten in an overwhelming intensity. And for some reason, you wanted to snap the coil.

"So tight?" Charles huffed, trying to push deeper, to explore and memorize you. You've heard the term "cock-drunk" before and now you understand. The feeling of veins dragging against your wars, his length twitching here and there. "You're close?" Charles asked.

"Close?" You asked through pants and little moan-hums, voice barely above a whisper. You move a hand to your head and look back to see how far your head is from bumping into the headboard.

Charles chuckled and smiled. He found it cute how little you knew. "Close here," He corrected, moving a hand down to your core, catching some of your dripping arousals before coating your clit.

His smile widened at your reaction, the way your back arched up into his chest, soft boobs against his hard abs, bouncing with every thrust; the way your hand left your head and gripped on his hair instead, a full needy moan leaving your lips that you couldn't bother to subdue.

"You're so pretty," Charles says, breath hot on your chest, peaking down to watch as his thumb press on your clit. He smiled again with a low laugh at the way you squirmed and moaned, pressing your face further into his neck. "I love how you react to me. So perfect for me. So Pure."

You felt his weight increase on you, a breathy moan echoing in your throat as he reached deeper inside you. "You're— s— so far in," you try to speak, looking in his eyes with furrowed brows.

Charles chuckles down with a, the hand he'd used previously to hold himself up with now cups your jaw instead. "Am I?" He asks, kissing you. You nodded, humming a 'mhm'. "How far?" He asks further, pinching your clit between his forefinger and thumb.

"S— so far—" You cut yourself off with a gasp and a whine, arching your back up and trying to pull him down. "Charles," the name is begged quietly. Charles only smiles softly, panting as he presses circles to your clit with his thumb, watching you squirm and whine.

"So sensitive aren't you? So pure. For me to love. For me to take, to ruin." He hums, thrusting a few more times until your body spasms beneath him. He relished in the loud whine, leaning his hands on either side of his head as he fucked you through your first orgasm while you hold onto his shoulders whimpering beneath him as the pleasure becomes too much.

Charles slows down to a stop before you're overstimulated. Gently, he takes your hands from his shoulders and presses kisses to your forehead, whispering praises in French. You didn't understand a single word but you still loved it.

You leaned up to catch his lips, cupping his cheek as you kissed passionately. His warm hand held yours once you pulled away, holding your hands in his lap as he sat back on his knees to look at what he'd done. The image of your rising and falling chest, your spent body, and ruffled hair cascading your face sticking to your forehead with beads of sweat.

"Charles— nghh," You whimpered, feeling his hips thrust. You were not expecting that. Not expecting more. White hot euphoria that made you squirm in discomfort.

"Sorry sorry," Charles apologised, thrusting his hips and watching as your body rocked and jolted. "I'm so close, I'm gonna cum," he heaved, relishing in the feeling, moving softly to not overload you too much.

"You're doing great, so great," you could only screw your eyes shut, shuffling your legs at his sides as he chases his pleasure. And as promised, he climaxed on top of you. You could feel his body shudder and hear a low moan. You watched as he slipped out, both of you tensing for a second before relaxing and falling back with a moan.

You gladly climb onto his chest with his help, holding your hands to your chest as he hugs you, his finger brushing through your hair, a feeling you're starting to adore. "How do you feel?" he asks and all you can bring yourself to whisper as you nuzzle in his neck is a quiet, "Empty," He chuckles, kissing your head as your eyes flutter shut.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: double chapter day?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The summer sun brings little warmth to the castle of Debray. Those left behind in the shadow of their lord’s march to war, bide their time with baited breaths and unspoken worries. The duchess sinks into her cups, a nectar to her already sharp tongue, as her daughter buries herself in her wardrobe. 

Lady Jazlene hands you dress after dress, demanding a stitch here or there, only to snatch it back and have you cut the cloth of another to alter yet a third. And a fourth, fifth, sixth. Strips of fabric and loose buttons litter the drawing room table as you and Merinda put your needles to work. 

“Motherrrr,” Jazlene swirls around, swaying her hips back and forth, “it has been a fortnight already.” 

“Your father will return soon,” Lady Rezlyn slurs before she empties her goblet. She has no husband to chide her away from excess. “Never fear, dearest.” 

“That is not—mother, what am I to do? I have no wedding dress!” 

“You have no mind,” Rezlyn snickers, “you will have only rags by the time you decide.” 

“Hm,” Jazlene approaches the table with her hands on her hips, “mother, that gown with the gold lace. The one you wore last solstice--” 

“My gold lace,” Rezlyn sneers, “no!” 

“But mother. I only want the lace. You can have it re-trimmed. It would look much nicer with pearls,” Jazlene whines, “do you not understand? I am to marry a king. I cannot look as some simple countryside daughter.” 

Rezlyn clucks and shakes her head, “if it hushes your endless moaning, have the lace.” 

Jazlene gives a triumphant grin and turns to you. She grabs your arm and the needle catches in the fabric, slipping from your grasp, “go fetch mother’s dress. It is rosy satin.” 

“And wine! Bring more wine,” Rezlyn interjects. 

Jazlene rolls her eyes and flicks you away with her fingers. You hastily retreat as Merinda grimaces at her labour. Your fingers hurt from the endless hemming and seaming and you’ve noticed she’s jabbed herself more than once as the noble daughter changes course back and forth. 

You flit from the chamber and sweep down to the kitchens. The descent into the cellar is lit by only the candle in your hand, the flame wobbling dangerously before you. You find a bottle of the duchess’ preferred and climb back into the light. 

You snuff the tallow and quickly press on you. You climb the stairs again but falter as the wail of a horn breaks the afternoon din. You spin and turn to the window. Several other servants cluster beneath the arched opening as they try to see the horizon. The blast comes again, three in quick succession, followed by a long blare. 

The noise of chain and mail comes from the courtyard below. The few men left behind to man the castle walls are quick to action. You can see the flap of banners and nothing more between the other curious bodies. 

“Who is it? Enemy soldiers?” Waldon wonders. 

“I cannot see, my eyes are dim,” Margite shields her vision from the sun as leans over the sill. Their chatter swirls at the approach. 

“It is them! The Lord’s banner!” Stellan exclaims, “I can make out the sun and the sword on the banner. And the Winter King’s white crown.” 

“They return! They return!” Another cries out, “are they victorious?” 

You shuffle away. You forget about the golden lace and return to the drawing room. You enter and look down at the bottle in your hands. You blink, trying to recall what you were about to do. You set the wine on the table near the duchess as Jazlene seizes your other arm. 

“Where is the dress?” She snarls, “ugh, are you so useless--” 

“They’ve returned,” you utter cluelessy. 

“They...” Jazlene begins. 

“The king and your father, my lady,” you explain, “we saw them through the window. I thought to say so before I went to your mother’s wardrobe--” 

“Quiet!” She shoves you away, “I need a different dress. The crimson slit with ivory. Yes, yes, now!” 

She pushes you again and you stumble to the door. 

“And slippers,” she calls after you, “Merinda! Get over here.” 

You scurry back out and to Lady Jazlene’s chamber. You enter and sort through the mess of her clothing strewn and heaped about. You find the red and ivory dress and a pair of slippers of a similar hue. You are certain to bring a selection of jewels and pins to assuage any further remonstrance. 

In the drawing room, Jazlene has Merinda fixing her hairpins. You approach with your armful and lay it on the table. Outside the walls, you can hear the chaos unfurling. You can hardly keep the noises straight as cogs grind, ropes groan, and the noblewoman carry on their tittering. 

You help Jazlene step into the dress, Merinda holding the other side. As you work at the sleeves and skirts, she fidgets around. 

“The king? The king is with them for sure?” She breaths. 

You nod, “yes, my lady. His banner--” 

“Mother! They have won. They must have.” 

“Do not be too presumptuous,” the other lady rises and nears the table, snatching up a string of pearls, “come. Put these around my neck.” 

There’s banging and knocking and footfalls and voices yelling. The walls cannot keep out the rising fervour. Horse hooves and rusty hinges. They are close, in the castle or more. You pull tight the laces of the dress as Merinda clasps the pearls around the duchess’ thick neck. 

There is someone before the door. A shadow darkens below it for just an instant before it opens. No permission is asked as Lord Dustan clatters in. His eyes is swollen near shut. 

“Daughter, wife, you must come down to the--” 

Heavy, steady steps follow him. You continue to weave the laces through the eyes, going as fast as you can. 

“Father, I am not dressed. I am not ready to receive--” Jazlene protests. 

Dustan looks behind him and backs away from the doorframe. King Geralt fills it with his large figure, a dark cut along his hairline though he hardly seems bothered by it. Otherwise, he is untouched, unblemished. You knot the laces as you peek over Jazlene’s shoulder and his gold eyes shimmer in the low lantern light. 

“Your highness,” Jazlene gasps and drops to a curtsy. You stand, dumbfounded for an instant before you bend your neck and your knee to his status. “We were not warned of your coming. I pray you have tasted victory,” she raises her head slowly, “and we may wed in celebration to ring your reign in the Summer Kingdom.” 

He grumbles as his eyes search the space. Dull yet vibrant at the same time. He tilts his head as his jaw squares, “a king’s wife mustn’t fret so much about silks and wine,” he growls as he breaks the threshold. He marches to the rigid high back chair and lowers himself, “victory is mine but that does not mark the end of my efforts. I have no kingdom until all that which has broken is repaired.” 

“Certainly, your highness, and I will be by your side to help you amend what has been injured. As your loyal wife and queen,” she wilts as she wobbles just a little, “I am only so happy to see you alive and returned.” She rises as straight as she can and sweeps over to him, pushing out her chest, “but not unharmed. Your highness, you have been wounded.” 

She goes to touch the gash along his forehead and he motions her away with a flat palm. 

“It is not dire,” he insists, “Lord Dustan, where is your bishop?” 

“I sent away for him. He will come,” the duke avows. 

“The bishop?” Jazlene looks to her mother. 

“For the vows, precious,” Dustan assures. 

“The vows? Now? Today? But father--” 

“I haven’t time to wait around on paltry feasts and drunken hordes,” the king insists. 

“But-- but--” Jazlene stammers, “I am a queen, I should have a wedding.” 

“You are still but a duke’s daughter,” the king snaps, “a wedding you will have. Let us swear the words as was arranged. Then we must away.” 

“Away? Away?” Jazlene echoes again. 

“Take this parrot away from me,” King Geralt barks as he slams his fist into the arm of chair, “I tire of her squawking. When the bishop arrives, fetch me and I shall keep the oath I made.” 

The edge in his voice cannot be missed on that single word. He is a man who would not break a promise given, not the like the one cowering by the door. You glance up slowly as you notice Jazlene quaking. You can tell by her fists that she is not so much afraid anymore as she is angered. 

“Daughter,” Rezlyn girds and touches her daughter’s arm, “a wife should learn first to obey. Let us go paint your lips and await the bishop.” 

“This cannot be...” Jazlene hisses. 

“Quiet,” Lord Dustan snaps, “you want to marry, you marry as you are told. Out.” 

Lady Rezlyn keeps the duke from grabbing his daughter, instead steering her through the door herself. Merinda follows first and you trail after. The king grumbles, “Debray, leave a maid. She may fetch me that wine.” 

“My lord,” Lord Dustan points you back tersely, “the wine.” 

“Leave me,” King Geralt demands of his fair-weather lord. 

Dustan retreats and shuts the door heavily. You turn and cross to the table where you left the sealed bottle. You put your hand around the neck and lift it. You face the king and cross to him with your head low. 

“Your highness, would you like a goblet?” You ask. 

“I am not interested in imbibing,” he reaches beneath his mail and pulls free a grey handkerchief, “pour it on this.” 

You crack the wax seal of the bottle and grab the bulbous head of the cork. You wiggle it but cannot dislodge it. You struggle with it and he wraps his large hand around the pregnant bottom. 

“Little maid,” he slips it from your grasp and puts the kerchief in your hand. 

The uncorks it with only his thumb, flicking free the stopper, and he reaches out to you. You press the cloth to rim and he tilts it slightly, wetting the fabric. He pulls it away and reaches to place it on the floor. You look at him curiously. He leans forward and runs his index below the gash in his head. You get his meaning and daintily press the damp cloth to his head. 

“The alcohol cleanses,” he says as he leans heavier into your touch. 

“It looks rather painful, your highness.” 

You wince at your own careless words. You don’t know why you said anything at all. He sits in silence, breathing slowly. At last, he sits back and looks at you. You drop your hand and your chin. 

“Might I get you anything else, your highness?” You offer as you fold the cloth into a tight wad. 

“Tell me, how do you fare?” 

“Your highness?” You peek up at him through your lashes. 

“Are you well? Have you rested? Are you fed?” He prompts. 

You raise your head, surprised by his questions. 

“I am well, your highness. I have a roof above me.” 

His cheek ticks, “same as you were. Same as I remember.” 

He puts his head back and closes his eyes. He sighs deeply. You waver before him, unsure what to do next.  

“I don’t mind the cold. My land is frigid most days but I felt a true shiver out there on that road. Even Roach could not ease it.” 

You watch him, awaiting an order, not so well attuned to conversation. More often than not, a response is not warranted, just action. He gives you little direction though he is a man who easily commands. 

“My horse. Stinky steed,” he muses as he keeps his eyes closed, “valiant nonetheless.” He lets out another heavy exhale, “will you mind the door? Wake me when the bishop arrives should I doze?” 

“As you wish, your highness,” you go to the door, taking your usual stance beside it. 

He is still. The amber light of the lantern limns his large figure as he reclines in the stiff chair. He does not move but a man who has ridden to war has slept on worse. You cannot tell if he truly slumbers but you know it is not appropriate to stare. 

You remain in silence. It isn’t so bad to the duchess and her daughter. Almost serene if not for the tension of the man’s presence. A king. A wintry figure with his icy hair and colder demeanour. You do not envy Jazlene, he will be a rigid husband. She will not bowl him over as her mother does the duke. 

You listen beyond the walls, trying to track the activity beyond. There are softer voices you can’t make out, creaks which could be only the wind, and footfalls which are most certainly only servants about their tasks. The tedium stretches on as the lantern light wobbles. 

You stare at the wall opposite. The summer hue breezes in with a hint of pollen between the open curtains. Still the chamber remains dim in stone and mortar. 

There is the crank of the gates and you shift. You turn your head to hear better the entry of a new party. A man’s tenor from below assures you of the arrival. You wait until the footfalls reach the stairs. You do not relish waking the king should he have managed to sleep. 

You look to the king in the chair but find him alert. His eyes are centered on you as he sits straight, golden irises blazing. You gulp and shy away. 

“I believe the bishop has come, your highness.” 

He doesn’t speak or move. He just watches you. His gaze bores until it burns. You fear you might have strayed somehow. 

Finally, he slides to the edge of the chair and stands. He does not seem eager as he makes slow progress towards the door. As he crosses the room, he stops, just before the door, right beside you. 

“A war for a wife,” he mutters, “a barter, I suppose.” He reaches for the metal loop on the door, “come, little maid, we might need a pillow should the lady faint again.” 

[diorsluv]

casual , part 5

“ i thought you thought of me better ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

vivianliu

liked by yourusername, jackhughes, and 72,110 others

vivianliu she was better off without you 😘

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

username44 ethan slander goes crazy

yourusername WE LOOK SO HOT 🤭🤭

→ vivianliu ALL YOU BABE ITS ALL YOU

yourusername also idk about that caption..

→ vivianliu oh girl noooo

→ yourusername 😔

→ vivianliu HE CAN’T BE STRAIGHT UP WITH U BABE he’s always beating around the bush

→ edwards.73 that’s subjective

→ vivianliu “tHAtS sUbJEctiVe” stfu

→ yourusername VIVI STOP BE NICE

→ markestapa it is pretty subjective

→ mackie.samo i think the bush is just a decorative piece to further brighten up the room

→ dylanduke25 he is not a bush beater ❌

username27 MARRY ME PLEASE

username10 IDK WHO I WANT MORE

→ username67 BOAF!!!!

→ username78 BOAF?

→ username96 BOAFFFF.

colecaufield i second that

→ lhughes_06 i third that

→ _quinnhughes i fourth that

→ trevorzegras i fifth that

→ rutgermcgroarty i sixth that

→ mackie.samo i seventh that

→ jackhughes i eighth that

→ _alexturcotte i ninth that

→ markestapa i tenth that

→ luca.fantilli i eleventh that

→ dylanduke25 i twelfth that

→ adamfantilli i thirteenth that

→ yourusername i disagree

→ edwards.73 guys you’re supposed to be on my side??????

→ luca.fantilli we just wanted to fit in 💔

username72 so ethan and rosie confirmed????

→ vivianliu 🤐

→ username99 pretty much

rutgermcgroarty yeah bc she already had me 🙄

→ vivianliu she had me first

→ yourusername LADIESSSSS stop fighting there’s enough to go around 😈😈

→ edwards.73 but i’m better though

→ rutgermcgroarty hell no you’re not edwards.73

lhughes_06 i hope she knows plan b is called plan b for a reason

→ vivianliu LMAOOO

→ yourusername bro WHAT????

username14 I CAN DO BETTER THAN ETHAN I PROMISEEE

username49 yall r so hot

edwards.73 didn’t sound that way last night

→ vivianliu is sex all you think about with her 😐

→ edwards.73 no????

→ yourusername damn

→ edwards.73 I SAID IT’S NOT

→ lhughes_06 i swear to god ethan i’m going to beat your ass

_alexturcotte she’s too pretty for him

→ vivianliu RETWEET RETWEET

→ edwards.73 ????

trevorzegras i could treat her better fr

→ vivianliu ion know about that one..

username95 I THOUGHT THEY ALL LIKED ETHAN??? 😭

mackie.samo stop dogging on my boy

→ vivianliu “your boy” is gonna get my wife all hurt and shit

→ dylanduke25 TRUST IN HIM DUDE

→ vivianliu hell no

username12 please she’s so happy thooo

username80 i mean as long as he doesn’t break her heart idc fr 🤷‍♀️

_quinnhughes that’s what i’ve been saying but she won’t listen to me 😒

→ vivianliu she’s delusional

→ yourusername NO IM NOTTT

→ _quinnhughes yes you are stop lying to yourself

luca.fantilli who said he needed her??

→ vivianliu everyone

→ yourusername ☹️

→ edwards.73 i did

→ luca.fantilli oh

→ markestapa OH????

→ mackie.samo look at our eddy he’s so confident

→ edwards.73 i am after last night mackie.samo

→ jackhughes oh god please never say that again

dylanduke25 i can smell the pizza from the other room and you won’t share shit 😒

→ vivianliu she bought it to eat with the boy that just stood her up so no we aren’t gonna share

→ yourusername ‼️‼️

→ colecaufield why did she buy the food and not him 😭😭

→ vivianliu THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING colecaufield

→ lhughes_06 HE DID WHAT????

→ _quinnhughes he let her pay for the food then stood her up. that’s great, that’s real fucking great.

→ jackhughes i’m gonna fight him

→ yourusername GUYS ITS FINE

jackhughes our dad’s gonna be livid when he finds out what that asshole did to her

→ vivianliu AS HE SHOULD

→ yourusername oh my god it’s not that big of a deal it doesn’t even matter

→ lhughes_06 ???? OF COURSE IT MATTERS

→ _quinnhughes don’t undermine ts it’s not gonna help you rosie

edwards.73

liked by yourusername, rutgermcgroarty, and 99,312 others

edwards.73 then she said you make me happier than ever

view all comments

username77 is this him clapping back????

username46 there’s no way he and vivian are beefing rn

markestapa go bag your girl 🙏🙏

→ edwards.73 bagging my girl 🫡

→ yourusername “my girl” ?

→ mackie.samo LMAOOO

→ dylanduke25 this is definitely going in the gc

→ luca.fantilli ethan it’s over for u

vivianliu no don’t be pulling this shit

username80 is it just me who’s getting the tiiiiiniest ick

→ username51 i am too babe dw

jackhughes uh huh..

_quinnhughes ok i don’t know bout all that

username31 kissing in the rain oh my god i’m melting

username27 rosie’s so lucky

→ username12 ethan’s the lucky one here 🙄

lhughes_06 what if i bashed your face in

→ edwards.73 but why

→ lhughes_06 i told you and everyone else NOT to touch my sister and you quite literally did the complete opposite

→ edwards.73 hey i didn’t even pay attention to her at first man

→ lhughes_06 😒

username54 i want a relationship like theirs so badly

→ yourusername no babe find yourself a healthy relationship 🫶

→ username33 WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN

→ username81 EXPLAIN?? yourusername

→ username20 UMM WHAT?

yourusername i don’t remember that one

→ edwards.73 i got the receipts baby don’t fight it

→ yourusername 😳

yourusername also wow she’s pretty

→ edwards.73 mhm she’s my gorgeous girl

→ yourusername oh is that her name?

→ edwards.73 yea got her saved as mine ❤️ in my contacts it’s nbd

username10 the candlelit dinner ☹️

colecaufield as much as it pains me to say it you guys look cute together

liked by edwards.73

_alexturcotte maybe i was wrong about you two and as long as you keep making her happy idc

→ edwards.73 i’ll keep her happy for the rest of our lives 🫡🫡

→ yourusername wow that’s a pretty long time!

trevorzegras oh ethan you crack me up

→ edwards.73 this one was a knee slapper wasn’t it

→ trevorzegras got me laughing and shit

→ yourusername oh so this post was a joke 😐

→ edwards.73 NO IT WASN’T I SWEAR ON MY LIFE yourusername

rutgermcgroarty why do i feel sick to my stomach rn

→ edwards.73 i think it’s called jealousy lil bro

→ rutgermcgroarty no i think it’s because you aren’t treating her right buddy

username55 even rut doesn’t like the relationship 😭😭

→ username79 99% positive he secretly likes her

→ username23 THATS WHAT IM SAYING

mackie.samo did you hard-ish soft launch simply because you were being scrutinized 😭

→ edwards.73 perhaps i did and what about it??

→ mackie.samo ok im usually on your side but bro..

username46 what happened to the “no labels”

username25 is this not lowkey toxic 💀💀

username98 whew lord save my girl please

adamfantilli you guys are so gross and icky

→ edwards.73 keep hating 🤬🤬

→ vivianliu i wholeheartedly agree

→ lhughes_06 that’s what i’ve been saying but no one listens 🙄

→ jackhughes CORRECT

username47 why are we all divided over this i thought we liked the relationship???

→ username53 but they’re kinda toxic af 😭

username9 this shakes me to my core

luca.fantilli is that the after sex pic

→ edwards.73 🤫

→ dylanduke25 oh god ew

→ colecaufield that did not have to be a question

username22 this is so cute it hurts

username28 SO ADORABLEEE

username91 new fav couple alert

dylanduke25 aw that’s cute

→ edwards.73 good to know ur not a hater

→ mackie.samo DUDE i was just stating facts

→ edwards.73 uh huh we’re kicking u out the gc

→ mackie.samo BROOOO

next chapter notes ) hey loves guess who didn’t proofread!!! I FEEL LIKE THIS IS LESS AND LESS ENTERTAINING IDKKK

tags: @dancerbailey3 @hughesfein @loveforaugust@alwaysclassyeagle@love4ldr@inhoodmood@bunting58@crazycat-ladys-blog@smoooore@bunbunbl0gs

[thecapricunt1616]

Hibiscus - (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): You and Carmy had been dating for about 5 months now, well officially dating. You had met at grant park about a year ago, and had been seeing each other ever since. But the two of you wanted to move things slow, and keep things casual at first since you both didn’t have much experience as far as dating was concerned. 

♡ O/S Inspo: This inviting, beautiful flower is commonly used as an aphrodisiac, as well as love spells are usually used to harness the powers of Hibiscus. Hibiscus Flowers are especially prized for their ability to increase love in a room by burning them as incense. ♡ Summary: You & Carmy meet at a park, over the course of a year you together fall in love over coffee and puppy kisses ♡ W/C: 1,010 ♡ Posted Date: 05/17/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello! I am just pumping out these requests y'all so get em in! You can find my prompt list as well as my request link right below here in my link list! This request here is based on ♡this♡ adorable ask found on my prompt list, I hope this is what you were looking for anon & that you like it! Please request any time :D xoxoxo ♡ Warnings for BTC: None, that I can think of really! Just fluffy sweetness! Black!Fem!Reader friendly, no use of Y/N

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You and Carmy had been dating for about 5 months now, well officially dating. You had met at grant park about a year ago, and had been seeing each other ever since. But the two of you wanted to move things slow, and keep things casual at first since you both didn’t have much experience as far as dating was concerned. 

You had met while you were walking your new puppy, she had slipped out of her collar somehow and just took off - it was unsurprising that she took off like a bullet after a squirrel, and it was even more unsurprising you that there was no way in hell you were going to catch her, at least you thought. Thankfully Carm was on his morning run, he saw she had no collar on and whistled to her and she ran right up to him.

“Ivy!” You shouted as you booked it down the trail, as you came around the bend you locked eyes with a stunning and very sweaty curly blonde man, holding your dog as she licked his face and he chuckled.

“Is this Ivy?” He asked you and if you weren’t already so hot from running you were sure you’d feel heat in your cheeks. And that was the start of something beautiful. You’d seen Carmy there every morning after. Little did you know - he’d started taking that trail every day for his morning workout, hoping he’d run into you again.

The second and third time, he just said good morning to you and Ivy, and would stop to pet her since she’d yank on her leash and yap at him for his attention. The fourth, fifth, and sixth time, he ended up walking with you on the shorter trail instead of doing his usual 6 mile run and talking with you.

The seventh time, he asked if you wanted to grab coffee with him the following morning- of course you couldn’t say no. From then on, every morning the two of you would meet up to take a walk - you didn’t realize they were getting longer and longer every day because the two of you got so lost in conversation, and then go get coffee at a cafe that accepted pets. It wasn’t until 2 months of meeting up every day for coffee that he’d finally asked you out to dinner. 

He’d taken you on a mini Chicago food tour that Friday evening, and you’d had some of the best food you’d ever tried in your life - that was up until your 2nd date with Carmy, when he’d invited you over to his house & he’d cooked for you. He had made you Northern Italian Truffle Pasta, and it was the best meal of your life, truly. When you’d told him that, he gave you one of his blushy chuckles but you insisted to him that of course it was true.

Then, every Friday evening after that - he made it a point to make time for you and take you out, or cook for you at home and watch a movie which is what you usually preferred. That was what you two were up to tonight. You’d already taken your shower and gotten in your pajamas after eating some amazing tacos that Carmy made for the two of you, and also after having a pretty intense 2 rounds of sex - and were now snuggled up on the couch together comfortably. Carmy was massaging your foot as you two caught up on this weeks episode of Greys Anatomy per your request and you worked on your latest knitting project (a new sweater for Ivy) speaking of who, was cuddled up in Carmy’s lap dozing away. 

You heard a vibration on the coffee table, and naturally your eyes were drawn to it. You see a familiar shirt and scrunch your brows, picking up Carmys phone and clearing the news notification to see you “Am I your…your background?” You asked shyly. He looks over at you, taking the phone with pink cheeks. 

“Yeah..thats ok, right?” he asked and put it in his sweatpants pocket, looking over at you with that anxious Carmy look. You got quite flustered yourself. This was the first time in your life you’d ever been with someone who was so openly infatuated with you, and wasn’t afraid to show it. You smiled a bit, grabbing your phone from the coffee table and unlocking it, showing him your home screen that was a photo of the two of you embraced in a kiss that you’d snuck a photo of. 

“More then ok…I’d never expect you to wanna show me off like that” you said, cheeks feeling hot. He took his phone back out of his pocket once more, Clicking it on and it was a new photo. 

“I love seein’ you” he smiled, you giggled a bit, looking at the other photo of you that he’d snuck. He wasn’t even in these, only you. Candid shots he’d gotten on dates that you two had been on together, or even just hanging out at home it seemed. 

“Is that another photo?” You asked, he nods, clicking the button again and a new one shows up 

“See! Isn’t it cool they let me choose 25!” he said proudly and you laughed a bit. 

“25?! You’ve snuck twenty five pictures of me? You’re a sneak” you teased, kissing his cheek sweetly.

“I’m sneaky when it comes to cute pictures of you yes, I have many more then 25 though” he mused.

    “More then 25? Are you stalking me now, Berzatto?” you kissed his lips gently. 

“Mmm if that’s what it’s called to be proud of having such a beautiful girl” he smiled a bit 

    “You are a flirt you know that right? A big ol’ flirt” you told him, kissing the little scar on his cheek tenderly. His cheeks heat slightly 

    “It’s easy to flirt with you” he held your hand and kissed it gently 

    “Yeah? Why’s that bear?” You muse, playing with his fingers   

“Cause I love you”

[inexplicifics]

Oh man so many WIPs to choose from! Feel free to choose the next closest number in any of these or to skip if they've already been shared!

G/J #13

G2/S post tournament

L/A/M #13 (yes 13 is my favorite number 😂)

L/A/V/M Dealer's choice

Vexart tournament (the angst of the tournament is just... so compelling)

Worth the Wyvern barmaid (this was the first fic of yours I read and I still regularly go back to reread it and am STILL wholly delighted by it)

Cats Among Wolves #2

Tbh your WIP list looks a lot like mine, except all of my WIPs are spread across different fandoms but I have.... so many 🙈

Have some Geralt/Jaskier with part-elf Jaskier and angst and hurt/comfort!

Jaskier had not realized that his life could actually get worse than it already has. First he ends up in the back end of nowhere because he thought it was a shortcut and it most certainly wasn’t, then these vicious yokels decide that his ears are excuse enough to ambush him, beat him bloody, and collar him like a slave, then they gag him when he won’t stop talking or fighting, and worst of all they smashed his lute - all of that is miserable enough, and he is nearer despair with every day that passes without some form of rescue. But this - He is lying at the feet of a white-haired man who, given the way Jaskier’s luck has been going since he left Oxenfurt, can only be the most notorious Wolf witcher on the Continent: the Butcher of Blaviken, in the flesh. The monster who slaughtered half a town for no reason at all. And Jaskier has just been turned over to him as - As a toy, Jaskier thinks bleakly. As a disposable body, flimsy and replaceable as a broadsheet, to be used up and discarded and left in a ditch beside the road. The Butcher bends and picks Jaskier up, heaving him over one broad shoulder without any apparent effort, and whistles; Jaskier, his head hanging down, can see nothing but the witcher’s dark armor. It’s not actually all one shade, he discovers; it has been stained so often that the stains overlap, mottled blacks and browns making the leather as ominous as its wearer. He smells of blood and horse and onion.

And as long as we're doing #13s - have some Lambert/Aiden/Milena with minor goddess Milena:

Lambert makes a horrible wheezing sound, and his eyelids flutter briefly before falling shut again. Aiden finds a second wind somehow - or fourth, or fifth, gods, he doesn’t even know how long it’s been - and staggers forward a little faster, his own broken ribs grating as he cradles his Wolf close. There’s a light ahead. Aiden stumbles across a grassy clearing, up a set of slick stone steps, and into a tiny, candle-lit temple. “Please,” he rasps, as loud as he can. “Please, someone help!” There’s the rustle of fabric and the sudden smell of roses, and a young woman appears out of the shadows off to one side. “Oh!” she says. “Oh dear - put him down there, let me see what I can do.” Aiden places Lambert down on the altar with the last of his strength and collapses beside it. “Please,” he begs. “Don’t let him die.”

I wish you the best of luck with your own WIP list!

[chordsykat]

How I write action/fight scenes

From a prompt posted by a friend on Discord last night. :3 Just thought I would ramble a bit before getting to work, this morning. If you're a writer and want to know what goes through my head as I come up with combat scenes in my stories, then read on. In this way, I hope we both learn a lot. Because I honestly don't think I've ever laid out my "formula" before...

First, know who you're dealing with.

This tutorial is going to stick mostly to the actual writing aspects, but if you're going to do an action series, you should factor in the combat abilities of your characters as you develop them. This doesn't have to be anything fancy. Keep it to the natural human responses at least. In other words, during a conflict, how will your character react:

Fight: Push back

Flight: Run away

Freeze: Do nothing

Knowing just that will give you enough to start thinking these dances through. And indeed, that's what they are - a dance. If you know more, like, specifically what kind of fighting they do, what their strengths in combat are, etc -- all the better, but know that what I list below goes in order from most to least important, and that stuff won't be on the list until the end.

Second, (and always) make the audience care about the action.

This sounds dumb and counterintuitive but people won't find an action scene compelling just because it's an action scene. Not to knock it, because it was brilliant for a different reason and a lot of the writing staff's hands were tied... BUT... During my time as a fan of, all the way into my employment with, Archie-Sonic, I can't tell you how many action scenes happened just because some executive at Sega was like "I think X and Y need to fight." So they would, and for reasons that were muddy at best. I think at one point, we had Sonic and Knuckles literally exchanging this dialogue:

Sonic: Yo dude, be cool. Last time we met, we left on good terms! Knuckles: Maybe, but you're still an intruder and just because you did me that favor on the day my daughter was to be married does not mean I owe you anything in the way of kindness.

IDK, my memory may be foggy, but that was the gist of it. Point is, don't do that - and first make sure your audience understands the motives behind the action, the potential stakes, and why it's all taking place to begin with. Else, you can make it as cool as you want and people are going to walk away with a sense of "that was cool" instead of "holy shit I was freaking out through that whole scene." If there's any question as to what you should be striving for as a writer, it's the latter.

Third, plot it out like it's a mini-story.

To the point - figure out the end first, and work backwards, just like so many writing tutorials have said before. Again, keep it simple: Who wins? Does the conflict result in a casualty of some kind? Does a character learn something?

Before you show how it goes down, you need to establish what goes down as the action happens, and what happens afterwards. Keeping the ending in mind as yo write a scene is always a good way of making it feel tighter. And throwing littlte twists for interest (maybe a character has the upper-hand for all but the end of the fight - maybe a character is losing until a specific turning point, etc) is made much easier, too.

Fourth, mind the rhythm.

A little weird to explain this, but the back-and-forth nature of the scene needs to flow well. Generally, conflict follows a pattern of:

Character acts

Opposition reacts

Opposition acts

Character reacts

If this pattern looks familiar to you, it should. This is the basic pattern of human dialogue as seen in stories and, YES, real life. Consider your scene like a dialogue all its own (even if the characters are talking throughout). The twists and turns I spoke about in the last point should be "off beat" because there's an unexpected nature to them. When a twist happens, consider breaking the above pattern.

Fifth, showcase character traits and skills (again, always).

Some characters have a high sense of honor and would put down their weapons if their opponent was unarmed. Some of them would fight dirty and hit someone with a chair when their back was turned. Some characters are scrappy and will jump into a conflict even when they're sorely outmatched. Some are straight up cowards who might run away even when there's a good chance they could win. Some are smart enough to bow out and will not engage -- hiding at the first sign of trouble. Some will throw snowballs at the oppressor and be surprised when they pull aggro and the dude comes after them.

You get the idea -- fights, conflicts and action scenes are great ways to show your characters' strengths, weaknesses, traits, and personality. Times of struggle are going to lay emotional responses raw, and it's a great way of showing "who someone really is" as it were.

Sixth, showcase unique defensive behavior.

Some characters have specific training: military, martial arts, street-fighting, etc... which, if you're aware of those, should come out during combat or conflict. Some characters have access to weapons. Some characters' bodies are the weapon. Etc, etc etc...

Whatever you do, about the only time you're going to show off the fact that your character knows Muay Thai is during an action scene. If you yourself do not practice this martial art, then research what you need to incorporate to make it believable when you write. Watch videos and write down the ways you would describe the movement. If you're doing a comic, then sketch the movement. Use that in your story.

Last, create more interest by tying in and highlighting story themes or disparities between protagonist characters, antagonist characters, and/or the conflict as a whole.

A little trickier, but if your story has a central theme or moral, try showing pieces of it shining through the action. Just as one wild example, if you have a theme of "love conquers all" this might mean your fight will end with the two people falling in love, instead of fighting. Think like a dungeon master. If you rolled a natural 20 on "try to woo the orc" in a combat situation (remember that comic?) what do you think would happen?

Too, if your combatants have something in common, or especially something that they are diametrically opposed on, feel free to show that off in these scenes. It'll leave the audience knowing them better (and set them up for further head-butting... or romance(?) down the line. And that's always fun).

Anywho, that's just a few of my thoughts on action sequences in fiction. If this helped you, or you want me to talk about this even more -- send me a message or a note or something. Always up for discussing this kind of thing.

And your reward for reading this far is an invite to join my discord if you wanna hear me ramble on about this sort of thing, in perpetuity. :)

[paying-the-price-everyday]

What do you do to get out of a study slump?

I’m in one and I’m exhausted. :(

First thing to understand is that we're not meant to be productive 24/7.

It might seem counter-intuitive but having clearly defined rest and entertainment time does more for my productivity than any amount of motivation or hard work. When you have time to do the things you want to do, study time is no longer something to resent.

Second, a slump happens for a reason. You need to pause and figure out why you're feeling the way you are and find a method to fix what's wrong. If it's burnout, you need to rest, take some time off and reevaluate your approach to your studies. If it's because you're frustrated with a subject, again stop, find alternative resources that will break a concept down so you can understand it. If you're unsure of the path ahead of you, find someone to talk to about it. A second perspective can help you see things clearer.

Taking the time to sharpen your axe will help you cut down a tree faster and with less effort than hacking at it with a blunt blade.

Third. Sleep. Sleep at least 7-8 hours a day, at a set time. Sleep resets everything and regulates your mood. It's easy to see the negative side of everything when you're tired.

Fourth. Keep two journals. One for you to write about anything you feel or want to get of your chest, and another to keep track and plan your studies. Planning is an important way to take the emotion out of your work. When you have a set number of hours to accomplish a certain reasonable number of tasks, there's no space to be upset or depressed about it. It's just something you have to do. Even if you only complete a few of those tasks, it's still more than doing nothing. After a few days, you'll find yourself wanting to clear the task list.

Fifth. Start early. Working long hours on your study material or assignments just before they are due is guaranteed to make you feel miserable. Consistent work from the start of your semester followed by multiple revisions will ensure you feel confident about your efforts.

Sixth. Realize that you are doing your best. A slump is not a failing, it's your body and mind telling you it needs a break, that something is not right. Don't beat yourself up about it.

[vodika-vibes]

hi thanks for spoiling everybody recently 😚 can I ask for a Boba Fett (you can choose either from RotJ or BoBF) paired with #3 of your 2nd smut prompt list, “Your eyes always glaze over when you cum”?

Spoiled

Summary: You spend an evening with Boba.

Pairing: Boba Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 967

Warnings: Smut, aftercare

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I hope that this is okay! I don't think I've ever written anything that jumps right to the smut before, so this is a first for me.

“You’re doing so good, Princess.” Boba rumbles in your ear as he drags his calloused fingers down your sides, and then back up again. “So good for me,” He praises as he slowly thrusts up into you. 

You whine, arching up into his touch, “Boba-” 

“I have you, Princess.” He reassures you, his voice low and deferential. 

You’re perched on his lap, your arms tied behind your back, while he slowly fucks you. You’ve been here for a while now, and he’s already forced you to fall apart around him several times. 

At this point, the only thing you can think about is the man pressed against you, and the delicious sensation of him thrusting into you. Which is exactly what he told you he wanted when he arrived on your doorstep several hours earlier. 

He adjusts his angle and you release a cry as he hits the spot inside you, again, that has you seeing stars and your head falls forward to rest on his slightly sweaty shoulder.

Boba’s hand slides up your back and he firmly grips a handful of your hair, pulling you back from his shoulder just roughly enough that you release a pleasure filled moan, “You need to keep your eyes on me, Princess.” He orders, “Your eyes always glaze over when you cum, and I want to see it.”

You shudder and struggle to keep your gaze on Boba, but he makes it so very difficult when he increases his pace and pushes you closer and closer to another orgasm.

His name falls from you like a prayer, and Boba chuckles as he snakes his hand down your body to press firmly against your clit. It’s all the stimulation you need as he shoves you over the edge to your release. 

Somehow, likely because of his firm grip in your hair, you’re able to keep your gaze open and on him as you fall apart around him for the fourth, or was it fifth(?), time that evening.

He groans as you clench tightly around him and continues to shallowly fuck you through your orgasm. And once you stop trembling and are gazing at him though hazy eyes, he tightens his grip around you and starts thrusting hard and fast, chasing his own release with your sore and exhausted body.

He releases your hair, and slides his hands down to where your hands are bound behind you, and he releases you with a tug on the satin holding you still, and you immediately twine your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through his curly hair, holding him as close as you can. 

“There we go,” Boba groans in your ear, “My sweet girl, made for me. Made for my cock.” He roughly drags his hands up your spine, “Gonna fill you, pretty girl. Gonna stuff you full.” His lips find a spot on your neck and you whine low in the back of your throat as he bites down, “Gonna make you mine. No one is ever going to make you feel as good as I do.” He pulls  you into a deep kiss, his tongue sliding along your lips, and against your tongue.

His steady rhythm falters as he thrusts hard into you and spills his release deep inside you. And you release a mewling whine as you feel his release paint your walls.

Boba’s tight grip loosens into something softer, and he presses his forehead against your own as he catches his breath. “I’m going to lay you down, Princess.” He murmurs once his breathing has steadied.

You nod at him slowly, and he eases you down to the plush comforter of your bed, and a low groan falls from you as his softening cock slips out of your, your mixed release dripping from you and onto the bed. You shimmy up the bed, with his help, until your head is resting on a pillow again, and you blink at him sleepily.

Boba smiles at you, adoration clear on his face, “I’ll be right back, cyare.” He leans over you and kisses you, softly and sweetly, before he’s gone from your bed. 

You lazily track him across the room with your eyes, and you watch him vanish into the fresher, only to return a moment later with a wet cloth. He carefully, lovingly cleans you up, and tosses the cloth to the side when he’s done. 

His fingers trail along your jaw, and you smile at him lovingly, “Boba,” You murmur his name, your voice slightly hoarse from the sheer amount of moaning you’ve done.

“There you are,” Boba replies, “Are you back with me now?” He asks as he lays on the bed next to you, his hands firm and grounding you here with him.

You nod, “Was a lot,” You say as you shift to lay your head on his chest. “Was perfect,” You add with a small smile. 

He chuckles, “Was worried you weren’t going to be able to handle it there towards the end,” Boba admits, he trails his hand to your wrists, which he then brings up to his mouth to lovingly kiss the bruises left behind by the satin, “We’ll have to switch material, I think. Satin doesn’t have enough give.”

“I like how satin feels though,” You reply.

He huffs out a laugh, “Then I’ll buy you satin sheets, my perfect girl.”

You smile at him, “I love you,” You murmur.

“I know,” His fingers glide across your lips, “I love you too, princess.” He lightly trails his fingers down your throat, “Are you feeling up to a bath?”

You hum and snuggle against him, “Will you carry me?”

He laughs, “I spoil you. But yes, I will carry you if you want.”

And you smile at him adoringly in turn.

[therandomficwriter]

Crossing All The Lines

Who: Aaron Hotchner

What: Reader has feelings for Aaron and dances around them with quick glances when you think he’s not looking. Then reader gets hurt and accidentally confesses in the heat of the moment.

Request: Nope

Warnings: Typical canon criminal minds violence, talks of getting shot, blood, Slight age gap but otherwise age isn’t mentioned, etc. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/n: I know its been forever since I've written anything but I’m back into my criminal minds binge and currently have Hotch brain rot so yeah,,, n e ways please feel free to enjoy! A/n 2: Ngl I've been working on this one since June of 2023 and barely finished it now (Feb. 2024) so this was a loooooong wip but besides that i really hope you guys like it!

You guys have been going at it for hours now. The sun had set long ago and many of the officers have gone home, the new shift well settled into their stations.

Despite the amount of time you and the team had spent trying to get to the bottom of the unsub’s reasoning, which would bring you guys one step closer to finding out who it might be, you are no closer to figuring it out now than this morning.

Reid is going off on another one of his tangents and you are trying desperately to pay attention and keep your mind from wandering, the late hour not helping you much.

Everyone is in a different form of concentration but, none the less, in a similar state of exhaustion. Morgan is slouched in his chair, head in his hand, Rossi on his fourth, maybe fifth, cup of coffee, but there’s one person you can’t help but let your eyes wander towards.

Hotch stands at the head of the table, arms crossed on his chest, tiredness prominent in his features. Your eyes follow him as he moves across the room, removing his suit jacket and discarding it onto a chair. Moving back to his original spot, he rolls his sleeves slightly up to rest upon his forearms, then loosens his tie ever so slightly.

He leans over the table and opens his mouth to begin talking but, if you are being honest, not a single word is heard by you. Your eyes stay glued to his arm, his muscles flexing slightly from the way he is gripping the edge of the table.

You try to pay attention, really you do, but it is no use. Your sleep deprived brain is not allowing you to focus on anything but the man in front of you. If you are being honest, you have grown feelings for him but you don’t dare act on them. I mean how can you blame yourself? There is just so much you admire about him, you can possibly go on for hours just listing off the reasons.

As your mind seems to drift off, you don’t seem to notice Hotch has caught on to what you were doing.

Feeling eyes on him, he glances around the room and soon catches your eye. Upon meeting his eyes, yours slightly widen and you quickly look down, willing your face to not heat up at being caught with your shameless stares. You swear at yourself thinking if he brings it up you’d blame it on the late hour and lack of proper sleep.

Unknown to you Hotch’s lips quirk up, amused at your reaction to being caught, chuckling softly to himself. He looks around the room once again, taking note of the tired faces of his team and decides to speak up.

“All right team, let’s call it a night. We’ll pick this back up in the morning when we’re all rested. Maybe then we will be able to think about this more clearly.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, the team quickly gathers their belongings and heads out of the station towards their shared vehicles.

The ride back to the hotel was uneventful as everyone split off into groups between the two SUVs. You opted to ride with Hotch and Rossi taking advantage of their silent personas, definitely not because you favored the first of the two.

Taking your place behind the passenger seat, you quickly got as comfortable as possible on your way back to the hotel. Usually you would try to fill in the silence with different topics varying from the case you guys were currently investigating to what book you were reading at the moment, but right now you could barely form coherent sentences with your sleep deprived mind.

You could feel yourself slowly drifting off, the smooth ride and the sound of the car moving along the street help bring you into a deep slumber.

Unbeknownst to you a pair of eyes traveled across your sleeping form, glancing back and forth between you and the road. A small sigh escapes his mouth as he notices your breathing even out.

Hearing someone clear their throat, Hotch casts his eyes toward the passenger seat where Rossi is sitting with a knowing look on his face. His eyes turn back to the road.

"Dave..." he says quietly, tone coming out as a warning.

Rossi raises his hands in defense, keeping his voice down as well "I didn't say anything."

"I know that look. You have something you want to say," Hotch mutters, face annoyed.

"Aaron in know that look on your face. How long are you planning on keeping her in the dark? You deserve to be happy and I can tell she is the reason your mood has improved a lot lately," Rossi keeps his voice low as to not wake you up.

Hotch moves his eyes towards you one more time, taking in your features, he notices the slightest content smile on your face not having a worry in the world while sleeping. He lets out a deep sigh eyes leaving your figure and focusing completely on the road.

"Because I am her boss and she is my subordinate. I can not cross that line even if i wanted to. I can only imagine what the higher ups would say if they found out."

"Besides she deserves someone better, someone closer to her age, someone her could provide her with everything she could want or need. Why would she want someone like me," he finished off.

Rossi shook his head, "You, my friend, are completely clueless. How could she not want to be with you? Have you seen the way she looks at you? And don't give me that B.S. about your status as her boss, as if that matters. Trust me Aaron, that girl would follow you through hell and back if you asked her and i know you would do just the same."

Hotch let Rossi's words sink in. He kept his head forward, choosing not to reply in order to completely shut down this conversation, not wanting to get his hopes up too high.

Luckily the hotel quickly came into view and Hotch felt himself relax slightly. As soon as the suvs were parked everyone got off and split up and made their separate ways into their hotel rooms. Getting off, Hotch made his way to the back passanger side to wake you and send you off to sleep in your room.

He got to his own room, going through his normal night time routine before slipping into bed. Despite the late hour and lack of proper sleep the night before, his mind seemed to run non stop. It wasn't the unresolved case or fact that the unsubs motive was hard to pinpoint.

No, his mind seemed to be full of you. The conversation with Rossi seemed to have kickstarted his thoughts into a spiral. Eventually he drifted off to sleep his final thought of you and what he believes could never be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually you and the team had finally managed to find the link between the victims and his motive became clear. Richard Cornwall, a local who lives in the outskirts of town on his family ranch had been taking the victims and making them weaken enough to use in his own version of "hunting."

The evidence pointed to you all that he was a narcissist that believed he was too good at hunting the local game that it no longer was fun to him. So he thought that using real people would provide more of a challenge, that way he could really prove he was the best and what he did.

Currently on route to the Cornwall family ranch, y'all prepared yourselves. It was common knowledge that he was a hunter so you knew he had to have a surplus of weapons as well as being on the look out for and traps he might have left around the property.

Parking the suvs in front of the main house, you split up to survey the property looking for Cornwall and the latest person he had kidnapped.

While the rest of the team searched the two story house, you, Hotch, and Reid had taken the left side of the property going straight towards the barn, stalls, and the field. You noticed a deer blind a little ways away in the field making a mental note to take a sweep of it after checking out the barn.

After clearing the stalls, you guys made your way though the barn with no signs of Cornwall or the victim. Reid noticed a corner of the barn that seemed to be where he left the vicitms to bleed out. The deep red was splattered on the walls and completely covered the floor. Hotch took note of it saying he would get forensics to take samples of it.

As you guys began to exit the barn after clearing it you turned your head towards Hotch and Reid to tell them about the structure you saw in the middle of the field. As soon as you opened your mouth, the sound of a gun shot rang though the air.

You were down within a second, the shot hitting you right in your left shoulder causing you to let out a scream, your other hand reaching out to hold onto the wound. You began to feel lightheaded, the blood coming from your shoulder seemed to be never ending.

Hotch and Reid quickly crouched down taking cover in the barn as another shot rang out. They each grabbed one of your arms pulling you inside to safety with them. The yell you let out was worse than anything Hotch had heard, he could only imagine the pain you were feeling right now.

He radioed the rest of the team and the rest of the officers to let them know to be on the lookout notifying them you were currently down. They only know the general direction the shot came from, not too sure where Cornwall was.

"The blind" you let out weakly.

Reid spotted the deer blind a little ways out in the field and let everyone else know the location so they could proceed with caution.

You on the other hand, felt like you would pass out any second now. You felt like you were on fire, your shoulder growing heavier by the second. Soon your vision started getting spotty, white dots littered your sight as you tried to blink them away, tears streamed down your face from the pain.

Hotch turned to look at you to make sure you were alright but quickly noticed the flushed look on your face, your lips were pale, a sign you were soon to faint.

"Hey, L/N, look at me. You need to stay awake for me." he urged, shaking your head a bit to stimulate you.

The sound of his voice was coming in and out, growing louder then getting harder to hear, your ears no longer wanting to work. You blinked a bit trying to focus on him and what he was currently saying to you.

"Y/N, you're losing a lot of blood, they might have to do a blood transfusion at the hospital," he ushers out, desperation evident in his voice, "What is your type?"

In your current state, you tried hard to process what he was asking you. You vision was quickly growing worse and it was getting harder to hear him. You let out the first thing that came to your mind.

"You."

The last thing you heard was JJ's voice over the coms informing they had got unsub in custody and finally found the last victim who was luckily alive. Black soon consumed your vision and you were out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The feeling of the ground rumbling beneath you was the first hint to you that you were slowly gaining consciousness.

Soon the low sounds of a siren could be heard, slightly muffled to you. You tried desperately to open your eyes but you couldn’t find the strength. But you could feel a weight in your hand and you tried to flex your hand, your fingers twitching slightly.

At that you could have sworn you heard what sounded like your name. You tried to focus your hearing a bit more.

“Y/N,” you heard a man say.

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before somewhere. The sound of it seemed to make you calmer. At the sound of his voice again you tried once more to open your eyes.

A blinding light above you is the first thing you see, yet everything still seemed to be foggy. You glance at you surroundings, your eyes barely open a crack. That is when you see him.

He looked absolutely ethereal, you could’ve sworn he was an angel here on earth. The bright glow from the lights casted a halo around him. But there’s no way he could be here right now. He opens his mouth to speak again.

“Y/N, are you alright? Do you need anything? We are heading to the hospital right now, we should be there any moment.”

You stared at him for what seemed like forever just taking him in. His sentence went in one ear and out the other, as if he never said anything to begin with, as if he wasn’t even then, a mere figment of your imagination. You couldn’t wrap your head around what was going on or where you were. The only thing you could say was what you were currently thinking.

“I dream of you so often, I don’t know if you’re even real.”

And with that you felt yourself slowly slipping back into unconsciousness. The sound of that man’s voice imbedded deep in your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A low beeping lulled you out of your unconscious state. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if they were made of concrete, not allowing you to open them just yet. You stayed there unmoving, trying to get accustomed to your surroundings, willing yourself to try and feel anything around you.

You could feel the soft pillow underneath your head and the, somewhat, stiff bed underneath you. In your head, you knew your were laying in a bed somewhere, but for the life of you, you could not recall a single thing that happened to you or where you could possibly be at this moment.

Racking your brain, you tried desperately to remember what was going on. The last thing you remembered was that you and the team had a case you were working on. Where was it? Oh, right, you guys were currently in Texas. The unsub was a fisherman? No, wait, a hunter.

As you started to recall more and more of the case it all started to come back to you. You, Hotch, and Reid were searching the barn. That's right, you were right on his trail and then... he shot you.

'Wait Hotch, Reid, are they alright?'

Your eyes suddenly shot open at the thought of your friends hurt. Wincing at the sudden bright light around you, you blinking trying to get used to the sight around you.

At the same time, all your senses rushed back to you all at once. you could hear that constant beeping again but this time a little louder. Looking towards your right, you noticed the heart monitor displaying your heart rate. You stared at it for a little bit and watched the line move at a rhythmic pace before you realized that your left hand felt a bit heavier that usual.

Your fingers twitched, slowly flexing, trying to grasp at what was resting in your hand. You turn your head slightly, glancing down at your hand, only to notice another hand placed over yours.

Eyes widening at the slight, you move them from the hand, up the arm and towards the person it belonged to. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you.

In the chair next to you, Hotch was leaned back into the chair. His left arm was slung over his abdomen and his right arm was stretched out resting on the side of your hospital bed, hand intwined with yours.

He look so peaceful in his sleep, which was a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression, despite the slight furrow in his brows. How he managed to look so comfortable in that hard plastic chair was beyond you, but you were sure that the exhaustion of the events the night before finally caught up to him.

You watched him for a while, your heart strings pulling at the thought of him so worried about you that he actually slept in that uncomfortable chair all night when he had a nice warm bed back at the hotel you guys were staying at.

The sounds of someone clearing their throat pulled you from your thoughts, as you glance towards the doorway where the sound came from. Rossi stood there leaning against the door frame, a knowing smile gracing his features.

Feeling the heat rise to your face, your eyes dart away from Rossi and down at the blankets the covered you. David knew of the feelings you harbored towards the man to your left, having caught you staring at him a little longer that usual a couple of times. He soon got the truth out of you after a night of drinking, to which you spilled your heart out to the older man in hopes of getting advice from someone that knew Hotch inside and out.

"How you feeling kiddo?"

Hearing his question spoken softly, you glance back up at him and clear your throat feeling it dry from not speaking for hours on end.

"Alright. Just a little sore I guess," you rasp out quietly.

He raises his eyebrow, "A little? Kid you got shot with a rifle, I don't blame you if you said you it hurts like hell, which I'm pretty sure it does."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," you chuckle softly at his words before glancing back down.

You can't help but let your eyes travel back to where your hand was intwined with Hotch's, letting out a little sigh. Rossi's eyes follow yours, then travel up to where his friend slept soundly.

"You know," he starts with a small smile, "he was really worried about you kid. He's been with you since the ambulance pulled up. He refused to leave your side and even rode with you the whole way over here. We even had a hard time trying to get him to go shower or even change. He insisted that he had to be here when you woke up."

You shift your focus up to Hotch's face, taking in the words Rossi was saying, heart melting at the thought. Your mind raced at the implications of what this all meant but you quickly shut them down, not wanting to get your hopes up.

"I'm sure he would've been the same if it were any one of us," you replied, shoulders slumping a bit at the thought.

David rolled his eyes at your words, "You know what I mean Y/N. Sure he would've been worried if it happened to any of us, but I doubt he would be sleeping if those god awful chairs all night if it wasn't for you."

At that you could feel the hand in yours start to twitch, Hotch moving slightly as he began to wake up. Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes started to flutter open. The first thing Aaron saw as he fully woke up was Rossi standing in the doorway staring right at him.

"Dave? What are you doing here?"

Rossi chuckles softly, shaking his head as he pushes himself away from the door frame to stand up straight.

"Oh nothing, figured I should probably go get a bite to eat and maybe a cup of coffee. It seems like you guys have a lot to talk about," he finishes, nudging his head in your direction.

The look of confusion quickly washes away from Hotch's face as his head snaps in your direction. He takes in the sight of you wide awake, a slight flush on your cheeks that he assumes is because of your injury. He could feel your hand flutter underneath his as he glances down at it. The sight of your hand wrapped with his causes his heart to skip a beat, the moment it resumes he swears he can hear it pounding in his ears.

Rossi clears his throat once more gaining the attention of the two, "Well I better be off, let me know if either of you want something. I hope you feel better kiddo."

You let out a small 'thank you' and he smiles at you then sends Aaron a knowing glance when you aren't looking before turning and making his way out. You both sat there in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch finally asks, breaking the silence between you.

"Honestly, I've been better," you let out a little chuckle, trying to ease the tension, before turning solum again remembering your current state.

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I should've know better, if only I-"

Hotch cuts you off with a reassuring squeeze to your hand.

"Don't," he says firmly, "Don't you ever blame yourself for something that is out of your control. You did all you could and your observations helped us catch the unsub and the last victim was found alive."

"I know, but I just feel bad cause you had to sleep on that," you say, gesturing towards the chair he was sitting on.

He lips quirk up ever so slightly, "Don't worry about it, I should be used to it now because of all the late nights I spend at the office. Besides, I wanted to. I wouldn't do this for just anyone," he says, starting to gain the courage to tell you what is on his mind.

"Hotch-" you start, only to be cut off by him.

"Wait, just let me say this," he holds his hand up. you nod encouraging him to continue.

"Y/N, you are the bravest person I know, not to mention the most caring and thoughtful. You always tend to put others first, but are still able to stand up for yourself and voice your needs. I admire so much about you that I could possibly go on forever. What made me fall for you is beyond me, but I know what I'm feeling is real. I kept telling myself that I shouldn't love you, that I shouldn't cross that boundry, but its not as simple as it sounds. No matter how hard I tried, you made me fall harder and faster without doing much," he sighed, "Even if you don't feel the same, i just needed to tell you."

At the end of his speech your eyes were shining with unshed tears. Never have you heard anything as sweet and poetic as that. You could feel every one of his words in your soul as if he was speaking right to it. He had put his heart on his sleeve for you and you thought it was only fair you did the same.

"Aaron, when I first met you I thought you were just a cold, stoic, blunt man,"

Hotch could've sworn he felt his heart ache at the words leaving your mouth, but that soon changed as you continued.

"But, then I met you and learn a lot about you. You actually had a similar sense of humor as me and know how to dish out a joke as well as take one. Your wit is one of the things that surprised me the most about you. Not to mention that you protect the ones you care about with your life. You come off as nonchalant when in fact you care so much about each and every one of us on this team. And despite what you think, you're the best dad Jack could ever ask for. You really are his hero and I don't blame him. You say you admire me but, oh boy, you have no idea how much about you I cherish and appreciate."

"At first I thought it was nothing more than just a silly little crush, but it turned into so much more than that. I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how hard I tried, it happened without me even realizing it. You are the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning and the last thought I have before I drift off to sleep at night, its like you're all that's in my mind. My heart has yearned for you longer than I knew it myself and now that I know that its not just me, I'm willing to cross that line as long as you're there with me," you finished giving his hand a loving squeeze.

Aaron stared at you with loving eyes and you could've sworn your heart stopped at the sight. You looked at him shyly with the newfound revelation of your feelings towards each other being mutual. You could feel yourself slowly leaning towards him and him doing just the same.

As the distance between you grew shorter and shorter, you both were stealing glances at each others' lips. Just as you were about to close the distance, a sharp pain shot right through your shoulder causing you to wince and pull back.

Hotch looked at you with worry helping you lean back into the hospital bed. His eyes scanned your face for any traces of discomfort as you got situated back into place. Your eyes met as if he was ask you a silent question, you nodded letting him know you were fine as he sighed in relief.

Chuckling a bit a the situation, he shook his head slightly before leaning down and placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

"Let's wait till you get out of here for that," he smirks, "Besides I need to treat you out to a nice dinner before we could have some dessert" he finished with a swift kiss to the knuckles of your hand that was still interlocked with his.

You couldn't help the heat that quickly rose to your face at his comment. Never, did you think Hotch could be that smooth. Rolling your eyes, you gently slap his arm causing him to laugh softly.

"You're so corny."

"Well you better get used to it cause you're stuck with me now," he replies with a smile.

You shake your head with a giggle, "Can I take that back?"

"Nope," he says, smile growing wider as a mischievous look glints in his eyes, "Besides you said I'm just your type."

The memory of what he was talking about quickly floods into your mind.

Your face flushes a deep shade of embarrassment and you quickly cover your face with your hands, "Oh my god!"

A/n: I really hope you guys liked it! It took me quite a bit to write but i really love the way it came out! I honestly think this is probably my favorite one I've written so far! Just to let y'all know i do have quite a bit planned out so be on the lookout for that and hopefully I'll be able to put out little thing here and there! Once again if y'all want to be added to the tag list the link is here ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ and just fill it out for whatever you want to be tagged for and if you don't know what I write for just checkout my masterlist or leave and ask and I will reply as soon as i can get to it!

Taglist: @uraveragegorewhore @drayshadow @wlfstxr @nikkitc0703 *The ones in red are the ones I couldn't tag so if you want to be added again or removed just fill out the form or comment on here!*

[monpalace]

ships .. (ocarina of time/majora's mask) link/reader, fierce deity/reader.

content .. the boys (separately) with a reader who feeds them well, and the fruits of their loving labor.

warnings .. unedited. no pronouns used (you/your). reader is implied to have more meat on their bones (vaguely). reader is in their housespouse era and they aren't even married (legally). non-graphic vomit and forgetting to eat mentioned (link). link and fierce deity are taller than reader. fierce deity is named aram for writings sake. reader is implied to be a god of sorts (fierce deity). fierce deity is literally my oc at this point.

notes .. my schnookums thought they could have big cheeks and get away from me? my cutie patooties thought that i wouldn't write about them eating right? my pookie bears thought that i wouldn't fulfill my duties as their #1? my baby faced sweethearts thought i wouldn't spend 2hrs looking for pictures like those? my favorite white boys? my honeybuns? my hollywood stars? my sugarpies?

i'll eat them. omnom

LINK has always been rather thin. That was especially the case when he was a child. Something about a Kokiri child's diet not fitting what a Hylian needed always kept him frail.

When you both were children, he had quickly gotten used to you plucking his arm when it was idle to compare his lack of fat to your surplus.

(He never minded. He always looked forward to being reminded why he put one foot in front of the other every day during his fight against Ganon, or repeated cycle after cycle when it came to Majora.)

(Funnily enough, you had always made fun of him for being shorter than you as a child as well. You always mentioned he needed to drink more milk and eat more cuccos so he'd one day pass you.)

It was when you were able to cook more than simple meals and wouldn't risk burning down your cottage that you would invite (force) Link over more often than you already have.

Link had always tried to limit his visits to when he absolutely needed to. Free food, bed, shelter, care, supplies, clothes, bathes (the list was endless), and whatnot were always appreciated, but he never wanted to become to comfortable lest he wake up one day (or night. Or afternoon. His internal clock was always ruined when it came to sleeping at your cabin) and decide not return to the world outside.

He does his best to turn down any seconds, or thirds, or fourths, or fifths, and so on you may offer him when he does stay long enough for you to finish whatever extravagant meal you made just for him.

Past experiences often make him sick (with trauma or physically) and result in him vomiting his food, but there's always more from you to replace what he had just eaten and the meal before (if he remembered to eat it).

What he can't finish at the table (or on the sofa, or in the bed), he takes with him when he leaves. Link is respectful in all meanings of the word and hates to leave anything to waste.

When it comes to thanks, he either finds ways to help around your cottage or brings back items from new regions for you to cook. Whether it be repairing the busted bathroom door you've been complaining about before fixing your water faucet so the pressure is what you want it to be, or bringing back a spice the Gorons specialize in you've mentioned wanting to try, Link typically feels his gifts fall lackluster when compared to your treatment of him.

(He trusts your skill and creativity enough to know you won't poison him on accident. He never brings back any recipes or instructions either if it's not a dangerous material.)

(He's always excited to try whatever new dish you've concocted, so his only condition is that you wait for his return to cook whatever it is he brought you. "A celebration, of sorts," he calls it.)

A look in a lone puddle had told him his cheeks had gotten fatter. He supposes he now understands why he was refused entry into one of the pubs when he had to retrieve Malon and Cremia's uncle.

He had noticed that the details of his arms were less visible through his shirts when a Goron had pinched one,— not in the same way you did when you were younger— he had mentioned that he had an amount of muscle and fat to be proud of before asking him to join a tournament. Any attempts prior to were quickly shut down.

During a day of horseback archery with the Gerudo, the sweltering sun had gotten to him enough that he had to remove his tunic and the shirt underneath to feel some sort of relief. One of the women who were training him took a look at his stomach and nodded approvingly, mentioning that he should praise his soon-to-be spouse for feeding him so well.

The last nail in the coffin came when he was riding Epona into Castle Town. His tunic felt uncomfortably small and his tights (curse those damned tights) felt as thought they were stretched more across the expanse of his thighs than they usually were.

He's back in your cottage when he finally vocalizes his thoughts, preferring you to any other tailor or seamstress in the country. "I've gotten to big for my clothes," he either sighs or signs to you while eating. His gaze held a thousand yards in them, idly watching his clothes move with the wind.

The tunic, hat, tights, boots hang outside the window on a string connected to your shed. They had to be washed after a (admittedly well-planned— even if they don't think) ambush by a hoard of chu-chus.

You throw a hazy look to them before returning to the bowl you were tirelessly mixing. You were making dinner, he thinks, or maybe it was in preparation for the big breakfast you were making with the variety of bread from the Gerudo he brought back.

You'd already given him a large snack earlier.

The thought makes him look down at the plate in his lap. Every spot of it was filled and piled with bread, and eggs, and meats, and jams. He couldn't see the white bottom of it even as he pushed and prodded around.

He takes a bite of it gratefully.

"I saw you before you left not even three days ago. You fit everything fine enough to me." At some point you had stopped stirring and held the bowl out to him. Link grabs something off the plate and dips it in without a thought, eating it before responding with a hum of approval. "I can make adjustments to then, if you'd like."

You leave the bowl with him before attending to something on the stove.

"Please," he responds, halfway through another bite of the (what he now recognized as) Gerudo bread and cocoa dip you had made. "Different pants would be nice, though. It'd be a nice excuse to finally get rid of those tights." Both tasted sweet by themselves, he realized, but left a calmer aftertaste that he'd like to savor.

"You've always hated the tights," you hum in response, moving from the stove to the coolers that he'd built you after bringing you a large fish that only lived in Zora's Domain. "What would you want to move on to now? Leggings? Shorts?"

Link watches you remove a pitcher from one of the coolers. He isn't sure how long it's been in there (he doesn't even remember watching you make it), but he assumes you took some ice out so the pink liquid wouldn't freeze over into complete ice.

He watches you try to take a cup from one of the cupboards, watching you struggle to grab his favorite one from the higher shelves.

He stands from the chair sat just outside the kitchen (he liked to watch you cook when you had the time), placing the bowl and plate on one of the many cleared counters (you liked to clean as you worked), and grabs the cup for you.

Link lowers his head with his hand when he hands the cup off, head resting upon the crown of yours as he watches you pour the pink liquid into it, idle arms wrapping around your waist as he makes some slick comment about eating enough milk and cuccos for your liking.

You don't elbow him in the stomach like you might have when you were younger and he doesn't hold the cup above your head teasingly like when he was younger to (— then again, he had to climb a counter to get it out of your reach.)

Instead, you wordlessly pass the cup back to him and he wordlessly drinks it despite not knowing what it was.

He likes it, as he does all your works, and notes how it was both sweet and sour. A taste that fills both his childhood need for sweet all the time and his older palate's need for other tastes.

Handing the cup back, Link tilts his head so he can press a kiss to your crown. "Anything you'd think I'd look good in," he finally responds, the flavor of the moment leaving a tooth-achingly sweet taste on his tongue.

ARAM is often humbled in your abode.

He may have acted arrogant to others in his younger years and horrifyingly aloof now that he's a more seasoned god, but he never failed to (willingly) crumble to his knees when in your presence during either times of his life.

He had no need for the sustenance mortals require, prayers and whispers of his name were always good enough for him, but he'd kiss the ground you walk on if it meant you'd bless him with another food you've created (he already does).

Aram is the provider to your fire-lit home, an arrangement the two have been living by for as long as he can remember.

He is the sword to your shield. The arrow to your quiver. The moon to ever burning sun (which he did create for you, after all). The wound for your gauze. The life to your world— and one cannot live peacefully without the other.

Your food had quickly become an addiction to Aram. He'd eat as much as often as he could, giving little response to when questioned why he loves it so much.

("Because it comes from your hands," he once explained hours later when you were sleeping. "Your hands, that create all. That nourish all it touches and replenishes all that is extinct. I am your antithesis, and I must destroy that which I love."

(You never had the heart to ask again.)

He has enough sense to slow his eating around you. One concerned comment about him choking was enough for him to indulge in needless your wishes, but a question regarding its taste had him eating like a mortal.

His relationship with food prior to getting hooked onto yours was brief and filled with obligation. He never ate to feel full, only to make the people he was fighting with shut up and leave him out of whatever conversation they were having.

It never lingered in his stomach like a warm fireplace that others had described it as. It never made him warm and filled with love. It never gave him the energy he needed to keep fighting.

It just went through his digestive tract (why did he even have one?) and disappeared like an heavy smog finally dispersed by a strong gust of wind before he had to fight again.

When a war was over, you always came. You took the battle-shaken soldiers away when it was their time and healed their ailments if they were able to withstand everything. You went through war-stricken cities and set everything as they should have been. You feed and clothe and bandage and sew and reunite and Aram isn't sure why he lingered.

He's seen the effects of what you can do long after you've left. He knows of the good you're capable of doing just as much as he knows the bad he can cause.

He craves your touch when he sees it at its peak. He indulges himself when he sees it first-hand.

Aram understands what the soldiers mean when you beckon him closer and offer him food, uncaring of how he stands tall above all else.

The soup warms his insides. The flavor resides on his tongue hours after he's finished it. His energy, though far from depleted, had made him feel as though he were a youngling again.

He craves more.

The addiction to your presence and your food (and subsequently, you) had started then. It's an event he could easily recall when asked, one he would happily recount to you if you ever forgot where his devotion to you started.

Meeting after a war or battle had become frequent enough that he had finally learned your name; not some silly alias those who followed you often referred to you as. He felt like one of those lovesick children soldiers talk about, tripping over himself and his words.

He's curious to you, an admirer more than a stalker, fortunately. When he wasn't on the battlefront, he was always hovering around as you worked, busying his hands with whatever task you've given him after noticing his lack of mortality.

You treated him well; doing so even after the era of wars were long gone and he was seldom needed. You cared for him as though he were one of the many wounded soldiers with no family to return to once all was done and said— and to an extent, he was.

He's eating when you bring attention to his softer thigh.

You were reading to him, a romantic thriller that held as much of his attention that your captivating voice did. His gaze focused heavily on you, watching as you lick your lips after each page, how your eyes rake over the page to ensure the tone you speak the next sentence in is correct. He notes how you shift less often, how he doesn't have to move you further up his lap so you can lean against his stomach.

"It's not as painful to sit on you anymore." Aram doesn't think that line was in the book, but he doesn't mention it. It dawns that you were talking to him when you look up, using your finger as a bookmark as you closed the book around it. "Have you gained weight?"

He's a big man; it's a fact he's known since the beginning of his existence. He has large arms, muscles well know for how he snatched prey up to bring back to you. His height made it a simple feat to reach into the trees and capture any avian you wanted to experiment with that night. His legs that would stomp on any fish swimming downstream during a day at the lake you suggested.

He was sculpted by the Goddesses themselves. If they hadn't meant for his body to change along with his lifestyle, they wouldn't have designed him to dough.

(He'd never be ashamed in the fact either. He was contented knowing he had someone to dote over him constantly; a sentiment he had gained after recalling a conversation with wedded soldiers.)

(Also, the prospect of defacing what the Goddesses had long since disgraced was exciting, in a way.)

Aram doesn't look at himself, already well-acquainted with his body as his brow raises in amusement. "You feed me well, My Grace," he responds with a peck on your temple, "I would hope to become more comfortable for your pleasure." He refused to stop eating as he indulged you in conversation, the leg you sat on jumping once in place of his busy hands.

You hum that sweet, quiet hum of yours that Aram has come to associate with your contentedness (he aimed to hear to several tomes every day). Removing yourself from his lap, discarding the novel to the side as you raise your hands to cup his cheeks. "It suits you. You look healthy. Happy."

"Did I look ill before?"

You don't fluster as you might have like in your younger years. He's honored to have grown alongside you, reminiscent of the older couples you've both watched and escorted when he was still an active god.

The same filling feeling your food gives him fills his heart. The lingering sense of peace that he felt since meeting you dancing through his body when your thumbs rub the apples of his cheeks, the softest and fondest gaze anyone's ever given him in your eyes.

"No," you answer in a quiet voice only he'd be able to hear. "Never. You've always looked perfect."

And Aram has never been more thankful that he separated himself from the Goddesses as he preens under your touch. Never been more thankful that he lingered after the war was done. Never been more thankful that he had readjusted his psyche to more readily accept your gifts and affection.

He frees a hand to cradle to back of your head, a threat to all that aren't you, and brings you beneath his chin in a protective gesture. "As have you," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "And as you always will be."

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the fourth part of our hurt/comfort rec list for you! There are tons of amazing fics on this list that we hope you'll show some love to. If you missed the previous parts, you can find part one here, part two here, and part three here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Wanna Feel the Edges Start to Burn | Explicit | 6,111 words

Harry gives him a gentle smile. “Feeling a little bit better?” Louis nods tentatively. “I think so yeah. Thank you so much for being so kind, but you really didn’t need to do this.” He lifts his unfortunately still shaky hand and runs it haphazardly through his hair. “It was just a spilled tea, I totally overreacted. I’m a bit embarrassed to be honest.” Harry scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Don’t be. I saw the whole thing, that guy was way out of line. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Louis gives him what he’s sure is a watery smile. “Erm thank you. I wouldn’t normally admit this to a stranger, but you’ve already seen me cry today so what the hell?” He forces himself to let out a weak laugh. “The thing is, my period is due any day now and sometimes the birth control pills make my emotions go a little haywire. I think that’s what happened.”

2) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8,894 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind. Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic. “I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.” Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

3) Wanna Do Nothing With You | Explicit | 9,606 words

The accident happens in the stupidest way possible. One minute Louis is demonstrating a skateboard trick he’d just learned for Lottie, the next he’s waking up in a hospital. He’s told that he wasn’t unconscious the entire ride, but he has absolutely no recollection of it. One second he’s fucking around in his own garden and the next he’s being assaulted with the strong sterile scent of a hospital. So. There’s that.

4) Let Me Be Your Good Night | Explicit | 10,520 words

Louis goes on a shit Valentines date and Harry's the cute waiter who takes him home

5) For The Love Of Biscuits | Mature | 16,574 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about hybrids is that their animal instincts make them jumpy. And quite often lends them to being owned. Harry Styles wasn't looking to purchase a half-breed. But sometimes things just happen. And owning a fox/human hybrid was something that happened.

6) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18,088 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts. Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts. Three: They do not get along. So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

7) Soup Of The Day | Explicit | 19,958 words

It had been the single minded goal for them since college and seemed simple enough. 1. Study hard. 2. Open their dream restaurant. 3. Take the culinary world by storm. What could possibly go wrong?

8) Under The Rain Or Under The Snow | Explicit | 20,667 words

Christmas AU where they broke up a month ago but Harry shows up at Louis’ childhood home for the holidays. Louis didn’t tell his mum about their breakup so staying with them is not ideal. Harry stays.

9) Heart Eyes | Explicit | 21,467 words

Harry is a dedicated sentinel with a strong aversion to demons, and Louis is the lovesick incubus who will go to any lengths to win Harry's heart.

10) It Was All By Design (‘Cause I’m A Mastermind) | Explicit | 21,986 words

“You can’t be serious. You think I would be so awful to work for - you would rather quit?” “Don’t be all high and mighty about it,” Harry scoffs. “Surely you would do the same.” “I’m not being high and mighty. It’s called being professional.” “Really?” Harry pushes. “You’d work diligently under me with no complaints? You’d do whatever I asked of you?” “That would be my job, so yeah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’d work you so fucking hard,” he says slowly, “that you’d have to quit.”

11) Thrown To The Wolves | Explicit | 21,681 words

Louis is a human living in the Styles' wolf pack who can't stop getting into trouble, and Harry is the soon-to-be alpha who thinks keeping Louis at arm's length is the safest option.

12) Letters To June | Mature | 41,150 words

It's 1915, Europe is in the middle of the Great War. Omega Louis decides to join the Letter Home Project to become someone’s penfriend. Through this he meets a lovely soldier who hasn't got anyone else to send a letter to. Along with his letter, comes a picture of the most handsome alpha Louis has ever seen.

13) Catch Me If I Fall | Explicit | 47,099 words

Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

14) As We Are | Explicit | 48,268 words

Louis doesn't think much when he's asked to meet up with the alpha of the pack two hours from his own - he figures it's business as usual. But Harry Styles is anything but usual.

15) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who’s never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves. Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

16) Of Lost Things | Explicit | 57,890 words

Louis comes with a familiarity Harry has never felt with anyone else before. After their fateful meeting, their chemistry became undeniable, and soon after, Harry had felt like he hit the jackpot when it came to finding the person he would spend the rest of his life with. But all relationships come with their own unique problems, and Harry soon realizes that their relationship is no different. When their problems go from unordinary to nearly bizarre in nature, he takes it upon himself to find an answer to their troubles. What he stumbles upon are terrifying coincidences between his and Louis’ story, and the ill-fated mythological couple, Orpheus and Eury. But it’s all they are; just coincidences, ones that feel as frighteningly familiar as Louis. Except… what if none of this is a coincidence? What if everything Harry has always seen as fiction is true, and myth—or rather, history, is about to repeat itself?

17) Sink Into Your Sunlight | Explicit | 79,562 words

In the grand scheme of things Louis did believe in love, what he didn’t believe was that he would ever find it in his life time for himself. Low and behold he would find it with someone he didn’t anticipate, now it was just a matter of having it work out the way he dreamed of.

18) Invisible String | Explicit | 84,726 words

Louis swears on his life that that man came out of literal nowhere and he thanks each lucky star for having good breaks in his car. This strange alpha also happens to be the most beautiful being Louis has laid his eyes on. For some unknown reason, the omega feels safe around the alpha. It might seem strange, but you can't always explain why or how things are the way they are. All you can really be sure of is that they happen for a reason. There's a higher power (call it what you want) that knows better and definitely knows more than you do.

19) Wind Beneath My Wings | Explicit | 93,131 words

As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.

20) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please be sure to read the tags and any warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

21) Drops of Jupiter | Mature | 121,826 words

In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn't have room for. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that's impossible not to fall in love with. But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns' darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills? And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

22) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167,485 words | Sequel

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[frost-queen]

Burst like a glass balloon (Sis!Reader x Bridgerton brothers)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic​, @theletterhart​, @alex--awesome--22​, @elllie-does-the-posts​, @floatlosers​, @merlieve​, @queen-of-books​, @glimmering-darling-dolly​, @denkisclown​, @wildieflower​, @meyocoko​, @bubblybrianna​, @justanothercoco​ @idkwhatmyusernameis,  @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23​, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr​, @swampthing07​, @freyathehuntress

Summary: Reader is the youngest of Bridgerton's. Your governess has a very abusive way towards you, gaslighting you into remaining quiet. One day your three brothers find out asking you why you didn't tell them, thinking they wouldn't believe you and you secretly deserved it.

“Again!” – your governess snapped, letting her wooden pointing stick slam against your desk. It started you, making you sniff loudly. – “And don’t make me see any tears!” – she made clear bending down inspecting your cheeks. You quickly wiped them dry. You moved your book closer to you, starting repeating the list of flowers by their Latin names. – “Abelia…Abutilon… Acacia…” – you said between sniffs as not a moment ago you had busted out in tears.

“Pronunciation miss Bridgerton!” – the governess made clear. She said it during your speech, making you stutter out the word. Her wooden stick coming down hard again. – “A lady does not stutter miss Bridgerton. Should I fetch you the bottle for only baby’s babble as much as you do!” – Her words carving deep into your heart. – “Perhaps I should start the basics with you all over again? How to walk, talk, sit, and eat properly for a lady. Is that what you require miss Bridgerton? Teaching for the simple minded?” – she asked with mockery.

“No…” – you answered softly. She pressed her hand down on your book, coming intimidatingly close to your face. – “Then do better!” – her voice as sharp as a knife. – “From the top.” – she insisted letting the wooden stick fall in her palm. – “But…” – you said. Big mistake. Her stick came down hard on your knuckles. You squeaked in pain untensing your fingers. – “I said again!”

You curled your fingers up to your palm, moving them down to your lap. Grabbing onto your dress tightly trying to forget the pain. – “Abelia… Abutilon…Acacia…” – you started over. Your governess nodding content as with each word her stick fell into her palm. You made sure to not falter as the slightest bit of hesitation awoke the feral beast inside of her. Her eyes would narrow coldly, her mouth pulled up to a hiss ready to spew out her personage of you.

Finishing the list of Latin flowers you felt out of breath. Mouth dry from speaking the long list that endured for hours. You turned around slowly in your seat, head down. – “Did I do good Governess?” – you asked nervously. She inhaled sharply through her nose. – “No.” – she casually expressed, making your eyes widen. – “Five whips to the knee.” – she informed you, approaching. You held your hands on your lap, already clenching onto your dress for the first impact.

The first whack made you press your lips together. Head turning away to not make a sound. The second made your body flinch, a soft yelp escaping your lips. The third one was brutal as it made your upper body shot forwards out of breath. The fourth numbed your knees with a tingling. Biting on the inside of your cheek to not make a sound. The fifth touch drew blood.

Hands trembled on your lap as your Governess laid some lost strays of hair back in place. – “Now Miss Bridgerton.” – she spoke lifting your chin up with her stick. – “Not a word to my family.” – you told her with tears in your eyes. – “Exactly.” – she warmed up a smile. A smile that never could warm your heart. – “What will they say when they find out how improper your behavior is during my lessons. How incompetent you are.” – she straightened her posture. – “I understand…” – you answered, blinking rapidly. – “I’ll never be like you.” – the words coming out so truly you started to believe them.

“Indeed miss Bridgerton. You never will be. Not every lady can accomplish many things.” – she spoke lowering her stick on you. She turned around, collecting her supplies. – “I’ll see you next time tomorrow.” – she clicked her suitcase shut, dragging it off your bed. You watched her leave before letting yourself slide down your chair onto the ground. Biting in your arm to deafen out your screams of pain. Body shuddering from the sharp pain rushing through you. Wiping your eyes dry, you carefully got up.

Knees trembling as they could barely hold you up. Stumbling over to the bowl filled with water by your vanity. Falling down in your seat, you slowly pulled up your dress. Revealing your knees. Still red and blue from previous punishments. The skin rough as some blood had made a way down your leg. A thin line of evidence. Sniffing loudly, you moved your hand through the water, wiping it up your leg afterwards. Water drippled when your hand got out again. The clear water slowly changing into color. You continued to clean your knees as if there never had been blood.

Face contracting when it pricked. You then held your hands in the water as it eased your muscles a bit. It was almost a routine after your lessons. Clean up to get rid of any evidence of harm. After all you needed to stay quiet. You didn’t want your family to know how not good enough you were. Your sisters surely never had such difficulties. Perhaps they were better suited to be a proper lady then you.

The thought of marrying a poor man crossing your mind. It was after all what your governess said. That you should be lucky to have such an average face for you would never taste the luxuries of a title. Not one deserving off. Letting your dress fall back over your knees, you took a deep breath. Taking the bowl of water, you moved over to your window. Pushing it open as you came sitting on the edge for a second.

Looking down at the ground beneath you. Quickly you emptied the water as it fell into the grass. A sudden knock at your door made you jump out of your skin. Quickly close the window once more, setting the bowl aside. A maid entered. – “Miss Bridgerton, diner is served.” – she told you. You nodded at her, following her downstairs.

You encountered Hyacinth and Gregory chatting loudly and happily over to the diner table. Anthony sitting down as a maid pulled his chair closer. Colin and Benedict already deep in a conversation. You came sitting down near Anthony. Eloise rushing in to join mama’s side. Francesca taking her seat beside you. Anthony smiled upon your arrival. – “How have your lessons been, Y/n?” – he asked laying a napkin on his lap. – “Productive…” – you answered, fumbling with your fingers nervously under the table.

“Has she taught you already French? I’d say I struggled a bit with it.” – Francesca said with a snort. You quietly shook your head. – “Not yet…” – you whispered. – “Y/n is still young.” – Anthony made clear to his sister. – “She will learn French soon enough and when she does, she will thrive at it.” – He turned his head to you with a warm smile. You couldn’t help yourself, but smile saddened back at him. Oh how high value he had of you. The first course arrived making you swallow nervously. Looking around carefully at everyone and how occupied they were.

You gently moved your hand above the table, picking up your spoon. About to put the spoon in your mouth, commented your brother Benedict on your hands. – “Y/n, did you hurt yourself? Your hands are red and scraped.” – his comment made you drop your spoon, hiding your hand underneath the table again. – “Let me see!” – Anthony insisted grabbing for your hand underneath the table.

You fought with every might to not let him see it, but your brother’s grip was stronger. He revealed your hand above the table, forming an opinion for himself. Letting his fingers brush gently under your knuckles. – “Did you fall in the garden?” – he asked worriedly. Pressing your lips together you remained silent. – “Y/n hasn’t been out in the garden all day.” – Colin pointed out. – “Truly?” – Benedict spoke on it with furrowed brows. – “Y/n how did you require it then?” – Benedict turned to you, barely touching his soup.

“The skin is rough… flesh scraped… this doesn’t seem like a first wound.” – Anthony said out loud, thinking as he carefully held your hand. You pulled your hand out of his, moving it down. Your little action made your brothers wary. – “Y/n tell us where you hurt yourself. If it happened numerous times we must do something about it.” – Colin made clear pointing with his spoon at you. – “Is it from a sharp edge from your nightstand? A certain type of fabric that is rough?” – Anthony suggested concerningly.

You couldn’t tell them, not even a bit. It was all getting too much for you. Making you push your chair back and take a run for it. Anthony threw his napkin on the table, getting up as well. – “Where… where is everyone going?” – Violet asked seeing her sons get up. – “A moment mama.” – Colin said with a bow before following his brothers. – “Y/n!” – Anthony shouted loud going in pursuit.

There was an attempt to escape them, unfortunately you failed miserably. Benedict grabbing you quickly by the shoulder. – “No!” – you called out, swaying your arms around to break free. – “Y/n what is the matter? We are simply concerned about you.” – Colin made clear trying to calm you. – “Let me go!” – you stomped firmly on your brother’s toes making him call it out in pain. His grip on you released, yet you stumbled to the ground.

The burn on your knees from hitting the floor made you flinch. Slowly you turned around to come and sit down, hands beside you. A part of your dress upwards making Anthony’s eyes widen. – “What is this!” – he called out, dropping to his knees as he pulled your dress up to reveal your knees. Benedict and Colin gasping in terror. Anthony’s jaw tensed. – “Y/n this isn’t from simply falling. What happened!” – he outed loudly seeing your bruised knees. Black and blue as the bruises barely had proper time to heal. Still you remained silent, looking away.

“The truth!” – Anthony shouted, moving his hands forwards to grab you. When he saw you flinch, he stopped, staring with wide eyes at you. Benedict lowering him beside Anthony. – “Y/n. Is someone hurting you?” – you couldn’t hold it anymore when Benedict asked it. Tears streaming down your face. Sobbing loudly and almost out of breath. – “Y/n who!” – Anthony demanded to know as Colin came kneeling beside you, pulling you close against his chest.

You shook your head not wanting to tell them. – “Y/n please I beg of you.” – Anthony spoke nearly sobbing himself from seeing his little sister in so much pain. That someone was hurting you. – “My governess…” – you cried out finally speaking about it. Benedict and Anthony shared a brief glance. “Why didn’t you tell us?” – Colin spoke stroking your back. – “Because… you wouldn’t have believed me… and besides…I…I deserve it.” – you outed wiping some tears away. – “No!” – Anthony said loudly, placing his hands on top of your knees.

“You did not deserve it. Not one bit of it. Your governess was wrong to treat you like this and she will not be forgiven for it.” – he added as Colin placed a kiss down your head. – “That is no way to treat any person… you didn’t deserve it Y/n, you certainly didn’t.” – Colin told you. Benedict took your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it. – “She won’t harm you anymore Y/n. We’ll make sure of it.” – Your brothers helped you up to your feet, group hugging you so tightly you felt the warmth of their heart. – “You are worthy Y/n. You are enough.”

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