#fringe sling bag

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Don't Lie to Me

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: life-threatening situations including a bomb and a Branch Davidians-style cult compound, established relationship, hurt/comfort, explicit language, slight emetophobia warning (nothing graphic) Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You thought Emily was just going out on a typical case until you heard about the standoff at the religious compound. You knew her job was dangerous, but this is a whole new level of terrifying. And you can do nothing but wait. Takes place during S4.E3.

Emily stabbed at the last bit of scrambled egg on her plate and pointed it at you.

"I'd bet my life those kids are being abused," she said, chewing.

You took her plate to the sink, washing up from the early breakfast you'd made to send Emily off on a new case.

"I mean, isn't that kind of the whole point of cults?" you asked, scrubbing at the plates.

"It certainly seems like it." Emily walked over and placed an arm at the small of your back. "Thank you for breakfast. Do you need any help cleaning up?"

"No, I'm okay." You liked the repetitive nature of dishwashing. "You know," you thought out loud, "I was in a cult once."

Emily froze and stared at you, blazer halfway on. "What!?"

"Not that kind of cult. And I got out pretty quick. But... I did believe a lot of crazy things, and I was asked to do some illegal shit."

"Y/N, what!?" she said, slinging her go-bag over her shoulder, reluctant to leave. "What kind of crazy things?"

"Oh, I don't know," you said, drying your hands. "I carried anointing oil around for a while. And I thought shadows in corners were demons. Turns out that's just how light works."

Emily placed her hands on your shoulders, a slightly stunned expression on her face. "I have to go, but we will pick this up later because, Y/N, what!? A cult!?" She shook her head and kissed you, then once again on the forehead for good measure.

"It was just a little cult!" you joked, as she walked toward the door. "It's way easier to get dragged in than you'd think. I consider myself a pretty smart person, and even I fell for some of that bullshit."

"Mmkay," she said, leaning in the doorway. "Well, I'll do my best not to join a cult this week, but no promises."

You rolled your eyes at her. "I love you, Em. Be safe."

"Love you too, honey," she said. "See you in a few days."

You shook your head as the door shut behind her. You didn't tell many people about your "cult year," as you liked to call it, because it hadn't been nearly as extreme as most cults were and because you'd gotten out quickly. But, god, you'd believed in some stupid things. The confluence of moving to a new place, developing a severe mental illness, and falling wildly in love with the girl who was second in command had been a perfect recipe for cultish devotion. No matter. You'd made it out. And, well, fool me twice...

______________________________________________________________

Part of the beauty of working from home is that you could do whatever you wanted most of the day–no pants, no bra, watching the news or TV during lunch, calling Emily whenever you wanted.

You made yourself a sandwich and sat on the couch, turning on the news so that you could fiddle around with your laptop but still have some background noise.

You were scrolling through an article on the best laundry detergents when the reporter mentioned something about La Plata County. You glanced up and turned up the volume. Wasn't that where Emily and Spencer were?

"What is reportedly being called a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado Child Services has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Separatarian Sect. The raid on the compound..."

Your heart started to pound. Maybe you'd gotten the name of the county wrong, and Emily wasn't even close. But she had said she was visiting a religious compound and that she was going with Children's Services...

Breathing rapidly, you pulled out your phone and called Emily. Straight to voicemail. You called her again. No answer. You tried to calm yourself down–no need to panic until you knew for sure. You sent Emily a quick text:

Hey love💕 You haven't been forced into a Waco situation have you? The news is going CRAZY. Please text or call when you get a second so I know you're okay. I love you❤️

You moved your work stuff into the living room, piling it on the coffee table and keeping the volume on the news up. You felt sick to your stomach, but tried to stay calm. There was no reason to think Emily was there. Colorado was a huge state. Probably dozens of religious sects. Why would she be at that one? But the longer you went without a text or call from Emily, the more anxious you grew.

______________________________________________________________

You managed to make it about three hours before losing your goddamned mind with worry. You texted Emily again, called her again, left her an angry voicemail about how people shouldn't worry their girlfriends like this, all with no response. You'd tried Derek, too, but no luck.

Your leg bounced up and down, and you could feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You found one of Emily's sweatshirts in the hamper and pulled it over your shirt, balling yourself up on the couch and breathing in the scent of her. She's okay, you told yourself over and over. She's okay, she's okay, she's okay.

A breaking news alert on the TV prompted another update on the La Plata County situation. Your head shot up, and you turned the volume up, not wanting to miss a thing.

"...tactical team into a forced retreat after losing a 30-minute gun battle with sect members. Nobody knows for sure how many people are inside, but it is believed that at least three of the child service members are still trapped in the compound."

You didn't sleep that night. Not even for a moment. You sat on the couch late into the night, waiting for updates on the standoff. With each hour that passed without contact from Emily, you were more and more sure that it was her and Spencer in the compound. You'd tried calling a few more times, but the calls seemed pointless, knowing where she was. You'd waited until a decent hour the next morning to call other team members again–Derek, Penelope, JJ. No one had answered, and you'd only grown more terrified. You were scared to know for sure, but you needed to.

You looked down at your phone and took a deep breath, looking at the one number you'd resisted calling so far: Hotch. You knew Emily'd given you his number for emergencies only, but what was this if not an emergency?

The phone dialed for a few moments before picking up.

"Hotchner."

"Where is she!?" you demanded, all the emotion and fear you'd been putting off for the last day rushing to the forefront.

"Y/N," he sighed, and you could tell just by his voice. "She's–"

"Don't lie to me, Hotch! She's in that compound, isn't she?"

Hotch's words were calm, determined. "We're gonna get her out."

"Don't lie to me." Your voice shook, tears slipping down your face.

"Y/N, I swear to you, I will get her out."

"Okay," you whispered, feeling small and scared.

"I'll call as soon as I can to let you know she's okay, but it's gonna take some time."

"Thank you." You dashed tears from your eyes, sniffling.

"Of course."

The line clicked off and you sat in stunned silence for a few minutes, watching the repeated footage of the compound flash by on the TV. Emily was in there. Emily was in there. And there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it.

You paced back and forth for a while, waiting and waiting for news updates, then decided that all this waiting was futile. If Emily couldn't get home to you, you'd go to her. You booked yourself on the next flight to Durango, packed just the essentials, and ran out the door, filling Sergio's bowl and making a mental note to text a friend to check in on him if you were gone for more than a day or two.

______________________________________________________________

The hours you were in the air–with nothing but shitty airplane WiFi service–were the worst for you. You refreshed the live news page over and over again, terrified that at any moment, you'd hear news of a mass death.

When you finally got to Durango that night, you drove the rental car as close to the compound as you could, but ATF had it locked down for miles. For now, this was a close to Emily as you could get.

You booked a nearby hotel and, still wrapped in Emily's sweatshirt, sat moon-faced and bleary-eyed on the edge of the bed, watching the news, and waiting, waiting, waiting.

You'd nearly drifted off to sleep when the room filled with a blinding white-orange light. Your eyes grew wide as you watched the screen. The compound went up in flames, debris flying far and wide.

"Oh my god," you said, covering your mouth. "Oh my god."

You ran to the bathroom and vomited, then sat on the cool floor, shaking. You coughed as you hyperventilated, unable to get enough air into your lungs. You wrapped your hands around your head, rocking. There was no way. No way someone would have survived an explosion like that.

You felt like your heart was being ripped apart. It was the hope that hurt the most. The maybe she hadn't been in there? But almost certainly she was. Maybe she was okay? But probably she wasn't. Most likely, she didn't even exist anymore, had gone up in smoke with the rest of the compound, the thought of which made you vomit again. You couldn't fathom it, couldn't envision a world without Emily. You needed her. You hunched on the floor of the hotel room, leaning into the bed, and waited. Waited for news of Emily's death. You hoped that Hotch would call you first. It'd be so much easier to hear it from him, but the reporters were like vultures, and they often got the news first.

______________________________________________________________

At the compound, a deeply battered Emily, now running out of adrenaline, leaned heavily on Hotch as he walked her to an ambulance.

"You don't have to come with me," she told him, her voice gravelly. "It's not that bad."

"Prentiss, you can barely walk," Hotch protested, watching in concern as she winced climbing into the ambulance. "I wish you'd get on a stretcher."

"I am on a stretcher." Emily gave him a little wave from where she now lay, an EMT strapping her in and taking her vitals.

"I meant before now." Hotch smiled slightly. His team was beat up, but they'd be okay.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. "You need to make a call," he told Emily, putting the phone on speaker as it dialed.

"Oh, god," Emily groaned. "She's gotta be worried sick."

When you picked up, your voice was timid, rough with emotion.

"Hotch?" you whispered, terrified of what he might tell you.

"Hi, honey," Emily said, her voice heavy with love and exhaustion. It hit her, all of a sudden, that there was a good chance she might not have made it out. That she would never have seen you again. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

"Em!" you cried between sobs. "Are you okay!? Are you hurt!?"

"I'm a little banged up, but I'll make it."

"You scared the shit out of me!" you yelled, equal parts furious at her for putting her life in danger and relieved that she was okay. Emotions tumbled through your body like ocean waves.

Emily smiled and wiped a few tears from under her eyes. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Is Spencer there? Is he okay, too?"

Emily exhaled shakily. "Yeah, he's fine. We're all fine."

"Where are you?"

"Uh, in an ambulance."

"Which hospital are they taking you to?" you asked, pulling on your shoes and grabbing your keys off the hotel desk.

"Mercy?" Emily said, repeating what the EMT told her.

"I'll meet you there."

"No, honey, you don't need to come all the way here," Emily protested. "I'm okay. I'll be home in a few days."

"I'm already here, Em. Don't even try to fight me on this."

"You're here!? In Colorado?!"

"At a hotel. As close to the compound as I could get."

"You came?" Emily confirmed, her voice quiet, like she couldn't quite believe someone would love her enough to be there.

"Emily," you breathed. "Of course I did."

A few tears escaped Emily's eyes, and Hotch looked away.

"Now," you said, clearing your throat and trying to pull yourself together. "Please, please, let the doctors take care of you. I'll be there soon, okay?"

"Okay," she sniffled.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Emily said, before hanging up and handing the phone back to Hotch.

The EMT handed her a paper towel to use as a tissue and she laughed, dabbing at her eyes and nose. "Thanks," she said.

Hotch smiled, watching her.

"What?" she said.

"She really loves you."

"I know."

______________________________________________________________

At the hospital, Emily heard you before she saw you. You were the first thing she heard after waking up from surgery, and she couldn't help but smile. You were giving the nurses a run for their money, which was saying something. You were usually so patient, so accommodating. Not today.

"Look," you railed at the nurse's station. "I've been in the waiting room for hours! I have been awake for three days straight, and my girlfriend has been a cult hostage that whole time! I am not in the mood to be held hostage too! Take me to her now, or I swear to god I will get the fucking FBI director on the line."

Emily's face brightened when you came in the room, but yours fell. She looked awful. Her face was bruised and swollen, bandages covered her body, and her arm was in a cast.

"Oh, Em," you said, your voice breaking, as you grabbed her hand, pressing your palm gently to her cheek.

"I'm okay." But she wasn't, and you could tell.

"It's okay, baby," you reassured her, running your fingers gently through her hair. "You don't have to be okay now, alright? I'm here. I'm here to take care of you."

Her breath hitched, and you could tell she was fighting off tears. It broke your heart. She always felt like she needed to be strong. It was time to let someone else be strong for a change.

You lowered the railing of the hospital bed, and lifted yourself in, gently pulling Emily into you. She grasped desperately at your shirt and fought off sobs.

"Shh," you whispered, cradling her head. "Let it out, love. I'm right here. You're safe now."

You held her while she cried, heartbroken that she'd been so scared and so hurt and, yet, proud that she handled it like no one else in the world could. And for neither the first time nor the last, you felt the immense weight and honor of being someone Emily Prentiss felt safe enough to break down with.

When she quieted, you rocked her and held her and placed small, gentle kisses on her head, trying to convey all your love for her, all your protectiveness toward her through osmosis.

You remembered, quite suddenly, the last conversation you'd had before Emily left, about cults.

"I told you," you whispered, giggling.

"Told me what?"

"That it was easy to get dragged into a cult."

"That is not the same," Emily argued, playfully shoving you. "I was held hostage. You were just dumb."

"Ouch."

"You didn't hoard weapons or anything, did you?"

"No," you scoffed. "Of course not."

"Well, what'd you do?" she pressed.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you did some illegal shit in the cult, so what did you do?"

"Oh," you laughed. "Nothing too serious. We bugged some people's rooms, recorded conversations."

"...Why?"

"We thought they were in cahoots with the devil."

Emily laughed, then grabbed her ribs, wincing. "'Cahoots with the devil!?' God, I'm so glad I found you after your religious days."

"What can I say? You get the very best of me."

Emily beamed up at you, pulling you down by your collar to kiss you. You stayed gentle and soft, mindful of her split lip and bruised face.

You held your forehead to hers, breathing in her scent. That familiar Emily scent that you'd been so sure you'd never get again.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," you whispered.

"I won't," Emily said, burying her face in your chest.

"Don't lie to me."

You felt her smile into your skin. "I'll try."

You sighed and grinned. "I guess that'll do. But only because I love you so much."

[blerb-f1]

„Pimientos asados“ – A roasted Spaniard

Fernando Alonso x NonBinary!Medic!Reader

I'm aware i already used this trope. I think i just like my drivers sweaty :D

Read more on my Masterlist.

-blerb

„Pimientos asados“ – A roasted Spaniard

„Stupid fucking Security Rules“, Y/N mouthed, buttoning their shirt up. The crisp blue and yellow fabric would soon be entirely sweat through, that was for sure. Their black linen trousers were the most airy thing allowed under safety rules, yet felt still too covering and heat retaining. They sighed once again, placing some bobby pins between their pursed lips. Coarse fingers grabbed each of them, in use of pinning their fringe up and out of the way. With the heat coming, sticky forehead hair would only be an issue. A load of hairspray that was sufficient to destroy the earths ozone layer, was the last step to get their hair out of the way. Seeing that the familiar team cap would rest on their head anyway, Y/N didn’t bother more in that regard.

They placed their badge around their neck, visibly reading “Renault Formula 1 Team Medic Y/N L/N”.

Knowing what was to come, Y/N were not jumping around in joy as they entered the car of another crew member, ready to head to the Track. Bahrain was hot, incredibly hot. Temperatures edging the 40°C Mark were announced before the race and definitely the truth currently. The team member sighed as well, emptying another water bottle.

With 2005 looking like a Championship Year for Renault, Y/N had to make sure their drivers would survive the race. Reaching the race track was however war in itself, with fans crowing outside. Y/N would tiredly wave their hands out of the window in hopes of shooing them away. “Shit”, proclaimed the car’s driver – Mike, the breakguy. Mike was tasked with all things breaks, he had to weigh them before and after races to measure their corrosion, to watch them during the race and tell the mechanics of breakage and measure their temperatures during the stops. He’d always tell Y/N that break discs were nicer than caring for Humans. Afterall, they didn’t rebut advice or act unnecessarily careless with their own bodies. He had taking a quick look in the rearview mirror, though just a second to late.

Some ‘fan’ had stolen the team cap of Y/N’s head, unveiling the bobby pins that were messily strung together. Y/N just scoffed, rolling the window back up before leaning back. “Stupid fuckers”, they cursed, patting down the now ruffled strands. ‘Hopefully the team has some laying around, otherwise Flavio’s gonna be mad again. He hates things that aren’t good appearance wise.’

Mike parked the car as close as could, shuffling around the boot to get out his backpack and Y/N’s workbag. Slinging it over the shoulder, he huffed loudly. “God, these fans are getting out of hand. We’ve had so much teamwear stolen by now – I wonder how other team’s are coping. I bet Ron Dennis is unhappy about them getting crumbly and muddy”.

As they approached the garage, an unhappy face already stood aside. Pat Symmonds, their Technical Director was talking angrily to a few of the mechanics. Apparently he had screwed up quite badly with something – not that it was of matter to Y/N. They fumbled around their bag to fish out a towel. Renault branded of course. Pouring water on the towel provided it as lovely cold recourse once placed on their own head, but also hid the hat-lessness from Flavio if he were to appear out of nowhere. A skill the otherwise loud Italian man knew better than one would expect him to.

Y/N ducked in the back of the garage searching through the shelves in hope of finding anything. A hat was important as team gear but also as sunshade in this demanded climate. The garage proved to be fruitless however, so Y/N made their way over to hospitality, still hidden under their fluffy frotté  head covering. The ladies behind the coffee counter were positively buzzing, their updos looking good despite the horrible weather. Flavio always had beautiful ladies work there and many mechanics would appear in hospitality, trying to fight for their numbers. Y/N on the other hand was a happy sight as they’d usually just ask for an Latte Macchiato and chatter about recent drama.

“Nice to see you Y/N!” the fronting one exclaimed.

“Nice to see you too, Monique!”, Y/N expressed before leaning onto the counter.

“Has Flavio passed by recently? I hope not.”

“If it has to do with your fancy new headdress, he hasn’t. Might want to ask Zanarini whether there’s still a cap ins storage. He just got one for Giancarlo. His got stolen as well apparently.”

The medic sighed before downing a cup of coffee given to them by Monique. “I’d better hurry, I’ve got to check Fisicella and Alonso over soon. Bye Monique!”

“Bye-Bye Y/N!” she waved cheerfully before giving her colleagues a snicker. Something bad must be going on they’d hear of later.

Trotting through hospitality with tired feet, Y/N soon spotted Enrico Zanarini standing to the side, his phone perched up. Being Fisicella’s Manager must have been a tiring job for sure. They approached the hard working man slowly, making sure he was not in a call or anything.

“Ah, Y/N. I presume you also got caught by the hat thieves, am I right in that assumption?” was his greeting. The medic just nodded. “I’m sorry to ruin your day now, but I got the last one out of storage. It seems someone snuck in overnight and emptied our warehouse here. I wonder what’s wrong with the people today.”

With their head hanging low, Y/N trotted back to the garage, knowing that Flavios scolding was inevitable by now. On the way the bumped into another person, blinking twice to notice they had run into Fernando.

“Good Morning Y/N, you’re late to the check-up.”

“I know, I know, Fernando. I’ve been on a treasure hunt the last hour. Some idiot stole my cap but we don’t even have a single one left.”

The driver lifted his eyebrows. “Not a single one?”

“None. The others all seem to have theirs so I’m the only one getting chewed out by Flavio.”

Fernando seemed to ponder for a while before settling onto Y/N’s office chair.

“Doctor, please proceed with your check-up.”

Y/N started their work, taking measurements and jolting down Fernandos health data.

“Please remember to drink a lot for this GP, I know the heat is horrible. It’ll be worse after the Race. I’m going to check up on you and get you both hydrated before the Press conference. Can’t have you fall on your face from heat exhaustion.”

“Us both? How are you so sure I’m landing on the Podium?”

“I just know, Fernando. Trust me. But something is telling me it’s not going to end well for Giancarlo…”

“You sure you aren’t Magic Alonso with these visions?”

“Maybe. Now zoom off. Fisi is waiting and I still gotta report to Flavio.”

Fernando stood up from his chair, eying the medic again. Finally, he lifted the cap from his head and placed it on theirs. “Look. Problem fixed, right?”

“Fernando, you’re our face! Wear it yourself!”

“I won’t” he chuckled while crossing his arms. “I can’t stand you looking so sad. Especially if I can fix it so easily, no?” He turned towards the door. “I’ll be going now. See you later!”

Y/N settled onto their chair with another sigh, though one team cap richer. Fisi was already standing in the door with his trademark grin. “Enrico told me you were looking for a cap. Seems you stole one yourself?”

This day would only grow longer.

As the race started and Y/N sat in the garage, monitoring stats and news relayed to them from the Pitwall to check on their drivers. With Fisicella coming in after Lap 3’s engine failure, work was sure to arrive. They took his stats again, got him equipped with nutritious drinks and snacks while also handing his Manager stuff for a bath. Exact instructions regarding temperature and procedure were added along with it. Since the race was still ongoing, they couldn’t care for the driver themselves which was unfortunate but Fernando needed full attention now. Soon after Michael Schumacher overshot a corner with apparent car issues, leaving one of their top contenders ouf of the race. Y/N was on the edge of their seat, attention at it’s peak. Fernando was doing well, staying cool despite the horrible heat. He kept drinking which was very good. His pitstop on Lap 20 went very well, he looked all right in the car as well.

As the race progressed and Fernando stayed on top of the Leaderboard, his victory lap around the track was lovely to watch. Seeing him do that bunny ear gesture in the car was always an amusing sight. Y/N rushed out with the Crew towards Parc Fermée to catch their lucky driver exiting his car, stepping on top and gesturing towards the sky. His race suit was entirely sweat through, his face red but his smile was real.

He headed up to the cooldown room, with Jarno Trulli and Kimi Räikkönen behind him. Y/N was following along as well, equipped with a coke can and some wet towels. Their exasperated winner slid tiredly on the floor, leaning back but still smiling like the sun incarnate.

“Here, Fernando” Y/N said, handing him the Coke Can. He deserved such a treat after this tiring race. They took the towels, helping Fernando get the sweat of his face and hair while also stopping it from burning. After a while, the call came to step outside. Fernando headed towards the Podium, pumping his arms and cheering loudly while Y/N kept looking from beside, happy for their driver.

Getting shooed off to the press conference afterwards kept Fernando away from Y/N who meanwhile prepared everything to get him going again.  Watching the conference on TV was quite amusing – Jarno looked like a wet dog, Fernando lost his color and Kimi was beet red.

As the conference finally ended, Fernando tiredly stumbled into his driver’s room. His steps had gotten weaker as he finally arrived, sinking onto his sofa. Y/N was quick to arrive, smiling at him with their teeth showing. “Congratulations Nando, that was a good race!”

The tired driver faintly nodded as he leaned back, just breathing in. The adrenaline was slowly leaving his body as Y/N handed him his sports drink. “Let’s get you back in shape, right?”

Shortly after, Fernando was bathed, properly dressed and back on his sofa, looking way less haggard. Y/N sat behind him, bobby pins placed between their lips again. A soft brush was holding his locks back as they got put into a short ponytail, barely enough to keep it out of his neck from scrubbing at the now very sensitive skin. Y/N placed a few Bobby Pins in strategic fashion to keep the shorter hairs out of his face, to stop it irritating his eyes. Fernando just sighed in relief as the hair stopped bothering him. “You were right with your prediction” he said.

“Hmm?” Y/N mouthed, still busy.

“With Giancarlo not finishing and me winning. You truly are the real Magic Alonso.”

Y/N laughed softly, patting his shoulder before placing his last Bobby Pin.

“It was your work as much as mine.”

As they were finishing, Y/N lifted the cap from their head, wanting to place it back on Fernandos. The driver however grabbed the medics arm, stopping them from finishing their action.

“Don’t. Keep it. It’s yours now my friend. I know you’ll bring me luck wearing it.”

He lifted the blue Fabric before placing it on the crown of Y/Ns head again. “Please, bring me more luck in the future.” He said, his grin cheeky.

Y/N turned to the side, not wanting him to see their reaction. “Shut up you stupid roasted Paprika.”

“Pimientos asados, eh? Sounds like a great Idea. Let’s get some” he laughed, getting up and pulling Y/N behind him.

[bullet-prooflove]

Taken!Series Part Four: Meth Mountain - Angel Reyes x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @wakeama @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @trhett21 @annetje @infinity-mars @emily2003alzaga @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @thatonesexycancerian @expir3dl0v3  @appreciatelove @the-wandering-lunatic @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @harperdoodle @cheyrenee @fanfic-n-tabulous @stressed-chas @@daydreaming-belle @est1887 @prettyinpunk85 @adaydreamaway08 @thanossexual @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @crimeshowjunkie @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @bonsaijoons @sclitvdes @justreblogginfics

Taken!Series:

Part One: Mother - Tragedy strikes when Angel leaves you and Valeria alone for the evening.

Part Two: Bleeding Out - Angel returns home to discover what happened at the house.

Part Three: Touch & Go - Angel discovers where Valeria was taken.

It’s a clusterfuck.

Almost the worst-case scenario that Angel can think of because Meth Mountain, it’s a law unto itself. It’s a self-sustainable settlement, hosted and frequented by addicts and people on the fringes of society. It’s wild and unpredictable.

Bishop has managed to reach an accord with the local authorities. The police won't go up there but the M.C can, they won’t interfere with that so long as the M.C don’t bring trouble down the mountain. Nobody wants an infant on Meth Mountain, they all know it won’t end well.

The thought of Valeria being raised with a bunch of meth heads destroys Angel; he can’t imagine what Skye was thinking but then that’s the point isn’t it? Everything she has done up to this point has been impulsive, Skye doesn’t think ahead.

They split into two men teams, it’s easier to cover more ground that way, especially amongst the ramshackle dwellings. This early in the morning most of the addicts are out of it, too high to question why armed men in hoodies are slipping in and out of their dwellings.

Angel and EZ have just cleared their first assigned section when Angel hears the cries of his daughter. He would know that sound anywhere, it’s different this time though, rawer, more agonising. He knows every single one of the noises his child makes and this, this sounds anguished. It tears at him deep inside, clawing through his heart so the blood leaks out into his chest.

He looks to EZ, who tilts his head towards the next structure along. It’s barely more than a piece of corrugated iron with flowers painted on it and tarpaulin. EZ goes first, his gun peeking through the plastic sheeting that acts as a door, Angel follows up the rear, the sound of Valeria’s cries intensifying as he steps inside.

His gaze comes to rest upon the baby, his tiny daughter wrapped up in several bath towels, squared away in blue and white cardboard box that used to contain oranges. The diaper bag that Hank’s mom made has been left untouched alongside of it.

Angel lowers his weapon, tucking it into the waistband of his trousers before he steps into the mess, his boots crunching over the fast food wrappers. He reaches for Valeria, her face screwed up and red, tears leaking down her cheeks. Her nappy is heavy, and her tiny stomach rumbles loudly, he remembers you feeding Valeria before he left, he guesses she hasn’t eaten since then, almost six hours ago.

“Hey, hey.” He whispers as he clasps his daughter close, his lips brushing over her featherlight hair. “I got you, Daddy’s got you.”

He slings the diaper bag over his shoulder, before turning to face EZ. His brother indicates towards the bundle of clothes on the sofa. It takes him a second to realise it’s a person, slumped across the couch.

Skye…

She’s pale, her skin white with a blueish tinge, there’s a needle sticking out of her arm, a tourniquet tied just above it.

“She’s in rigour. She’s been dead for hours, looks like an OD. She probably put the needle in as soon as she got here.” EZ tells him, shaking his head before meeting Angel’s gaze. “What do you wanna do with her?”

Valeria’s already starting to settle, her sobs turning to whimpers as Angel sways gently, shushing her.

“Nothing.” He says, his palm smoothing over the baby’s back. “Let the natives have her.”

Love Angel? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[scionshtola]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Prompt 1 - Steer

pairing: Corisande Ymir/Y'shtola Rhul rating: G | word count: 854 words notes: some rodeo au to start us off :> Part of Y'shtola's first day on the ranch

“Is this really necessary?”

Y’shtola looked down from her seat in the saddle—were horses usually so tall?--and met Corisande’s friendly gaze. Their arms bracketed Y’shtola, one hand still holding the reins and the other resting on the horse’s body behind the saddle, which made her feel somewhat more secure.

“You’re working on a ranch, miss,” Corisande replied. “You should know how to ride a horse on your own.”

“Are there no other ways to get around the ranch?” She had seen several pickup trucks on her way in this morning. Surely they were just as capable of getting them around the property.

“Riding’s the easiest. Besides, the Haillenarte’s own a lot of land, and some places you can only get to by horseback. With all the research you talked about doing on grounds, Miss Rhul, I know you’ll want to see them.”

Y’shtola narrowed her eyes at them, and only got the same friendly smile in return. But the sincerity of their expression, framed by soft red fringe and two braids that hung sweetly in front of their shoulders, and their polite but firm insistence on referring to her as “miss”--which, to her surprise, she found rather charming—set her at ease. 

The appeal to her work on the ranch grounds did not hurt, either, which Corisande seemed to know, as she held the reins out to Y’shtola before she had given her assent. Y��shtola took them and squared her shoulders.

“There’s no need to worry, Pepper is a sweet horse,” Corisande said gently, patting the horse’s flank. Her black coat was flecked with a yellow that glinted in the sun. “She’ll do most of the work, once you learn how to steer her.”

For the next forty five minutes, Corisande taught her exactly that. She showed Y’shtola how to hold the reins properly between her fingers; how to guide the horse into a turn by opening her arm in the direction she wanted to go, keeping the other steady to avoid drifting as they walked around the paddock; how to use her legs to do the same. 

“I think you’ve got the hang of it,” Corisande said the next time Y’shtola pulled Pepper to a stop at her side. She gestured for Y’shtola to follow her across the paddock on horseback, opening the gate and letting them through. Y’shtola watched as she loaded a few small bags onto Pepper’s saddle, before taking Y’shtola’s own backpack and slinging the straps over her shoulders. “I think you’re ready to see the whole ranch now.”

Y’shtola only had a moment to feel satisfied at how quickly she had learned before Corisande pulled herself neatly into the saddle behind her, her hands politely on Y’shtola’s waist as she settled in.

“We’re to share?” Y’shtola said in surprise. “Don’t you have your own horse?”

“This is my horse,” Corisande replied, her amusement evident in her tone. 

Y’shtola fought the urge to roll her eyes, even though Corisande could not see her. “You know what I mean. Why did you teach me to ride, if you were going to ride with me anyway?”

“It’s a good skill to have out here,” Corisande said. “What if something happened to me, and you needed to get back for help on your own? Cell service isn’t particularly reliable out here, you know.”

“Do you anticipate becoming incapacitated? Is there perhaps another, more competent hand to guide me in your stead?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Corisande said. That the statement was not itself a question, and that they sounded far more amused rather than irritated, strangely pleased Y’shtola. 

She pushed the feeling to the side before she answered. “Yes, I do.”

Corisande laughed, and the gentle sound of it in Y’shtola’s ear brought a slight smile to her lips. 

“You learned to steer a horse at little more than a trot. For now, if you want to see as much as you can today, it’s best you let me take the lead. If that sounds alright to you, miss, then we will be on our way.”

Y’shtola couldn’t argue with that—she had been able to make her way around the paddock with no assistance, at a speed that would not take them very far around the property. And now that she had gotten over her surprise, she could admit to herself that Corisande’s earlier point was equally valid—it was good to know, in case of an emergency.

“It sounds fine to me,” she acquiesced, and relinquished the reins to Corisande. 

Their hands brushed hers for a moment, a warmth in the touch that did something strange to Y’shtola’s stomach. She tried not to think about it, but with their arms around her, she had no choice but to lean into their chest. With unfortunately heated cheeks, she realized she was very aware of all their points of contact. Their chest to her back, their legs fitted together, their biceps framing her waist. 

When Corisande nudged the horse into motion, Y’shtola took a steadying breath, willing the warmth in her face to fade, and let her guide them to their destination.

[asgardianangel]

You are mine (Lalo Salamanca X Fem!Reader One-shot)

Summary: Lalo finds out someone is interfering with his business and gets obsessed.

Warnings: Bad language, choking(near death), forced kissing and touching, chasing, Lalo is pretty dark in this one, implied collaring, nicknames (puppy, little girl),implied murder, Lalo kinda obsessed

“Someone is fucking with us” Blizz urges looking over at Lalo who appears to be deep in thought. It had been over a week now and the business is facing attack. Dealers would come back to the diner without the calculated or no profit at all. It was fun watching Ignacio break a few bones, but Lalo could not withstand someone taking his money no longer. The men around the gambling table thought Lalo would be pissed off with it.  

But he seemed to be intrigued. 

A chuckle erupts and Lalo looks at the men “Explain to me again what happened?” he asked no longer bothered about the game of cards they were playing he lifts both legs and places them on top of the table. 

From what he understood at the end is that it was a lone wolf with a grudge on his business. Nothing to do with Fring. This was someone new. 

At the end of the night, he decided to take a stroll down to all the areas he claimed (as well as his cousin Tuco’s business). Addicts there told stories he could barely make out, but they all had something in common.  

‘Someone in all back and wearing a face scarf’. Sneaky enough to jump and climb into windows of dealers and steal their stash. Only in the areas he owned. 

Lalo couldn’t really explain the thrill of someone other than Fring interfering with his business. 

“cabrón valiente (brave bastard)” He whispered under his breath 

Lalo then remembered that Krazy eight is going to investigate that problem on fifth street. So, he called up Ignacio. 

He was going observe. 

- 

This night was special, and you knew it. Waiting and watching in the shadows you heard loud obnoxious music blast throughout the street. 

“Junkies” you whisper with a shake of your head seeing them arguing over ‘not getting their crystal’ the woman nicknamed ‘Mouse’ you had come to learn was pissed off and joining in on this argument. Giving you a good chance to strike. 

Pulling up your dark hood and scarf you sneaked over to the back of the delict building. You were lucky that climbing was your expertise the perfect skill for this kind of job.  

But it wasn’t really a job no. It was personal 

You climbed noticing a gap in the bordered-up window (just the right space for you to fit through). You breathed carefully looking around making sure nobody has spotted you (but you still heard the irritating argument of the junkies). When got inside the place was empty all except from a desk chair by the window.  

“Bingo” 

On closer inspection you found a metal tin under the seat which contained a full load of crystal. Chuckling you tucked that nasty shit in your bag and looked around for anything else. 

Money maybe? That would seriously piss them off. 

You would kill them all in time. Every last one. 

Too busy investigating you were caught off guard by the blaring sounds of police sirens.  

“Fuck” you cursed slinging your bag over your shoulder and moving towards the window you came through. Freezing a minute, you saw an officer walk by with his torch in hand. 

You took the opportunity to climb down when he disappeared before they could ransack the place at any time. 

You quieted down catching your breath and moved on trying to get away from the building without been seen. With a quick peak over your shoulder, you sighed in relief as they were too caught up with arresting a familiar man. 

‘Where the fuck have, I seen him before?’ The question ran through your mind, but you pushed it aside.  

The headlights of a car shined in your face out of nowhere and your eyes made contact not one but two familiar men. One you couldn’t remember the name of but the other was... 

Lalo Salamanca. 

You were in a state of panic, but the click of a car door handle activated your flight mode again. You ran like a rabbit only hearing your loud heartbeat and soon heavy footsteps behind you. Sure, you prepared for a situation like this you thought you would at least get chased down by one of his men  

but never Lalo Salamanca himself!  

You were closing in on wooded area hoping you could lose him but there was no stopping him. 

“te voy a atrapar! (I’m going to catch you)” You heard his determined but cheerful voice yell out. You steadied yourself almost tripping on a branch you looked over your shoulder to see Lalo hunting you down without anything stopping him.  

Fuck the guy was huge. 

You concentrated dodging trees and branches (even more difficult in the dark) 

And soon you were his prey. 

Lalo didn’t want this cabrón to escape his clutches huffing like a mad man he hurled himself on top of you (an action that could only be describe as animal like). He wasted no time flipping you over on your back as you tried to fight to fight back. But he was quick to restrain your wrists with his strong hands. 

He practically ripped the face scarf off revealing you to himself like a prize. He was taken back for sure as he sat himself on top of you. 

You were a woman. A hermoso (beautiful) woman. 

Chuckling in disbelief he moved one of his hands from above and caresses your face. 

“Get off of me!” You finally emitted your voice in distress, but Lalo only laughed again. “So, you are the man in black my men have been talking about?” he teasingly asked.   

Lalo moved his face close to yours “you are just a   niñita (little girl) with nothing else better to do” he spoke softly. Lalo felt a hard blow of a rock to the face, and you tried your best to scramble only to be pinned down again. 

“Where do you think you're going niñita?” Lalo asked placing a hand around your neck giving it a squeeze. You certainly had a lot of fight in you. 

He liked it. Enjoying it even. 

“Fuck you!” you cussed out at him with a whisp of breath causing him to chuckle “if you ask politely   bebé” he told you. 

“But first we need to talk” Lalo hushed moving his hand from your throat. Before you could even fight him again, he picks you up and slings you over his broad shoulder (like you weighed nothing).  

You beat your hands against his back but it didn’t effect him he grabbed your bag and then

he carried you throughout the woods to his car.

- 

Being tied up in the backseat of Lalo’s car you listen to him sing some song and converse in Spanish to the other man “if you are going to sing to me just, please put me out of my misery” you comment only to earn an amused look from Lalo. 

The car ride was long, and your wrists started to become sore. 

Where the fuck are they driving? 

Lalo must have read your mind “I’m taking you home with me querida” he told you. 

“fuck’s sake” you cussed struggling against the restraints. 

“Hey, no ninita should speak like that” he sternly said causing you to laugh. 

“ella necesita aprender algunos modales (she needs to learn some manners)” he spoke to the guy driving. 

“We’re here” He then said you could barely lift yourself up to look around. There was a tap to the window and Lalo rolled it down with the biggest grin. 

“encontré a mi chico (I found my guy)” Lalo chuckled making quotations to the word ‘chico’. The man outside the window hummed in surprise and gestured for the big gate to be open. 

‘This is what trafficking drugs and murdering people gets you’ you thought only managing to see the lavish the house coming into to view. 

Lalo enthusiastically opened his door getting out and started greeting people leaving you and the man ‘Ignacio’ in the car alone. 

“You shouldn’t have done this you have no idea who you are dealing with” He warned you. 

“Why can’t he just kill me already? Get it over and done with” you asked. 

“He doesn’t plan to kill you” He simply replied. 

You were so confused and was about to ask why? But Lalo soon swinged the backseat open with a whistle. 

“Hey! Hey!” you kicked your feet like a child having a tantrum. But this didn’t bother him at all. Lalo just pulled you out to show you off to the very surprised strangers next to him. 

“This is my gardener my cook and my cleaner” he started to begin an introduction like the circumstances weren’t weird at all. Feeling anxious as Lalo pulled you back against him with a chuckle.  

“You never mentioned your name querida how rude of me not to ask” Lalo scolded himself moving strands of hair away from your face. 

“I don’t want to asshole” You seethed out debating whether or not you could bash your head back onto his face and make a run for it. But by the look of those heavily armed guard dogs of his you wouldn't make it that far. 

“ella tiene fuego tu sabes? (she’s got fire you know?)”  

This man is a fuckin manic. 

“Let go of me!” you scream only to be slung over his shoulder again and carried you inside 

You were unable to bang your fists against him as Lalo headed upstairs with you whistling another tune. He walked towards the door at the end of the door and swinged it open. Revealing a bedroom. 

“I’m going to put you down now so be good for me” he told you. 

“Okay” you whispered out in defeat secretly planning the next move. 

Lalo places you down onto the bed you watch him drag a chair from the other side of the room to sit on. “Soooo- what’s a ninita such as yourself have against me and my business?” Lalo asked placing both hands to his lap. 

You took a look around thinking and then a snap of his fingers caught your attention “No no no eyes on me” he told you. 

You huffed putting your tied wrists in front of you “could you please untie me first?” you asked ‘nicely’ Lalo scratches his chin then sighs untying them you winced rubbing the sore of your wrists bringing your legs on to the bed to sit comfortably. 

You thought back to the time you hated the most and looked Lalo in the eye “you killed my friend” you simply said.  

“That’s it?” Lalo asked  

Is he fucking serious right now? 

“You have no compassion, do you?” you asked back shaking your head. 

“Who was this ‘friend’?” he questioned you looked away not wanting to meet the eyes of this monster any longer.  

“James Ward street name Flynn you shot him down in the street like some dog” The venom came out with the explanation. 

“Oh, he was a fuckin snitch querida” Lalo simply chuckled. 

“He didn’t deserve to die” you answered sharply. 

Lalo pointed a finger at you and spoke again “you are putting yourself in a life and death situation sounds to me bebé like Flynn was more than a ‘friend’” Lalo explains with another chuckle. 

The fucked-up part is that he was correct. You did love James more than a simple friend and the news of his death shattered you.  

“Look if you are going to kill me do it already. Alright?” You spoke kind of hoping he would. 

Lalo just gazes at you in sicking grin. 

“Your plead to kill you is very attractive to me querida” Lalo hums. 

You could never get over how crazy he is 

He then gets up and joins you on the bed to which you shift away from him. But Lalo wanted to be up close and personal “If I were to kill you, do you know how I would do it?” he asks caressing your ankle and you shake your head. 

“How would you?” the question came out in a whisper as you looked away. Lalo grabs your face and made you look him in the eye “Well-” his hand traces across your cheek to your neck and he grabs a hard hold of it causing you to wheeze “I would grab your pretty neck and squeeze until your last breath to come out” 

He squeezes harder “beautiful you know?” he tells you close (to the point you could feel his own breath on your face). He laughs lightly seeing your natural skin turn red as you try to hold onto life while he sits on top of you. 

Then he lets go. 

You gasped for air desperately feeling weak and dazed to the point you didn’t notice that Lalo was kissing your neck. Trying to stop him you slap your hands against him, but he only groaned when finding that sweet spot. 

Sucking as if he was some sort of vampire. 

“From now on you are mine”

  You couldn’t help but moan you hated yourself for it. 

"You may as well forget that dead boyfriend and think of me" Lalo soothed hand reaching up to your breast under your jacket.

“I would never kill you ninita” he whispered in your ear so intimately. 

“But I’m going make you wish I did” Lalo rubbed the rawness of your neck and got off of you after giving you a deep and unwanted kiss. 

“We are gonna wait till that pretty neck stops hurting and then-” Lalo opens one of the bedside drawers and to your horror he revealed a dog collar. 

“You are going to be the beautiful house perrita (puppy) and what to name you” he wondered  

Fin

Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed it

[creatingnikki]

Ritika

Ritika

Holding the other person's gaze when speaking, never wasting food, fringe sling bags and platfrom heels, karaoke afternoons and purple sunsets.

[maresse-in2]

Embracing the Boho Spirit with Maresse Boho Bags

Bohemian fashion is more than just a style—it’s a statement of freedom, creativity, and individuality. Rooted in rich cultural influences and adorned with vibrant patterns, tassels, and earthy tones, boho bags are the perfect accessory to elevate any outfit while expressing your unique personality. Whether you're heading to a music festival, a weekend getaway, or simply running errands, a boho bag is your ideal companion.

At Maresse, we celebrate the bohemian spirit through our curated collection of Boho Bags. Each piece is designed with care, blending functionality with artistic charm. Let’s dive into what makes boho bags such a timeless fashion staple and how you can seamlessly incorporate them into your everyday life.

Why Boho Bags Are a Must-Have

Artful Designs with a Story Boho bags often feature intricate embroidery, playful tassels, and earthy tones inspired by global cultures. These details make them stand out from ordinary handbags, allowing you to showcase your individuality. The Maresse collection embodies this aesthetic, offering a range of designs that resonate with free-spirited souls.

Practical and Stylish Boho bags aren’t just about looks—they’re also highly functional. Whether you prefer roomy totes, crossbody bags, or slouchy hobo bags, they offer ample space for your essentials without compromising on style. Explore our exclusive range at Maresse to find the perfect blend of practicality and flair.

Versatility for Every Occasion From casual outings to beach trips, boho bags complement every look. Pair a fringed bag with denim shorts for a laid-back vibe, or carry a detailed embroidered piece to add sophistication to a maxi dress. With Maresse’s thoughtfully designed collection, you’ll always find a bag to suit your mood and occasion.

How to Style Your Boho Bag

The Everyday Explorer Pair a spacious tote with a flowy tunic and ankle boots for a relaxed, bohemian look perfect for errands or a day at the park. Try a bag like our signature tote for a touch of effortless chic.

Festival Ready Sling a fringed crossbody bag over your shoulder, pair it with distressed jeans and a crop top, and you’re ready to dance the night away. Maresse offers designs that are lightweight yet eye-catching, perfect for such occasions.

Beach Chic Heading to the coast? A straw-textured boho bag paired with a breezy sundress and sandals captures the essence of summer. Browse Maresse for the ideal beach-ready designs that combine utility with boho flair.

Why Choose Maresse?

At Maresse, we’re passionate about crafting accessories that align with your values of sustainability, creativity, and individuality. Each piece in our Boho Bags collection is carefully designed to reflect the bohemian ethos while ensuring top-notch quality.

By choosing Maresse, you’re not just buying a bag—you’re embracing a lifestyle that values freedom, authenticity, and timeless elegance.

Ready to embrace your boho vibe? Browse our full collection at Maresse and let your bag tell your story. Whether you’re looking for a vibrant festival bag or an everyday tote, we’ve got you covered.

Celebrate your inner wanderer with Maresse, where fashion meets freedom.

[themaresse]

Chic Boho Style Laptop Bags & Clutch Sling Bags

It is always that perfect balancing act when it comes to style and functionality in the fast lane world. It becomes worse when you are looking for the right bag to use. Into that fray comes chic boho style laptop bags and clutch sling bags: an ideal collection of bags which does combine practicality with artistic flair.

Boho Style Expressing individuality and creativity is the hallmark of Boho style. Vibrant colors, eclectic patterns, and freedom of expression characterize the boho style of fashion, which tells you how to show off your very unique personality. You can uplift your look while remaining maximally organized by adding touches of boho to your day-to-day accessories including laptop bags and clutch sling bags.

The Best Laptop Bags The name of the game in picking the perfect laptop bags is functionality. A good laptop bag will protect the device it carries while offering you enough room for all your essentials. Thus, look for boho style laptop bags featuring sturdy materials and comfortable straps. These bags usually have various pockets for chargers, notebooks, and even personal items, making them ideal for both work and travel. Beautiful embroidery and a unique design set apart any bag used from the office to your favorite coffee shop.

At other times, clutch sling bags are perfect when you do not want to carry much. This bag can be worn casually when going out for brunch or going out at night with your friends. A boho style clutch sling bag will add a classy touch to your outfit while giving you a little room to accommodate your phone, wallet, and keys. Find designs with tassels, beads, or fringe. These elements add the bohemian chic touch and would look quite eccentric as a clutch.

Versatility for Each Occasion One of the best features of boho style laptop bags and clutch sling bags is that they can easily match with whatever you're going to. Whether it's some kind of business meeting or a weekend getaway, these bags easily fit your needs. You can pair a laptop bag with a flowy dress for a chic work look or style a clutch sling bag with denim and a tee for a laid-back vibe.

Conclusion A fab way to add character and individuality to your wardrobe would be chic boho style laptop bags and clutch sling bags as they prove useful yet will reflect your love for unique, handcrafted designs. Their color and functional features would make them an essential accessory for those seeking the perfect blend of fashion and utility. So go bohemian today!

[the-blackorchid1]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: AZTEC TYPE PRINT FRINGES TAN MULTI COLOR BACKPACK southwest western.

[thechiccoverstore-blog]

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[trendilyyours]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: REBECCA MINKOFF Leather Rhinestone Fringe Card Case w/Chain Strap.

[lavatica]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Bohemian sash burgundy leather tassel fringe sling hip bag festival concert.

[richbornladiesbag]

The Timeless Elegance of Rich Born Ladies Sling Bags: A Fashion Icon Resurrected

In the realm of fashion, certain accessories possess an ineffable allure that transcends fleeting trends and seasonal fads. One such accessory is the rich born ladies sling bag, a timeless emblem of sophistication and style that has graced the shoulders of fashion icons through the ages. From its humble origins to its modern-day resurgence, the ladies sling bag remains a staple in the wardrobes of the chic and cosmopolitan.

A Rich History

The origins of the ladies sling bag can be traced back centuries, where it served as a practical accessory for women to carry their essentials while maintaining an air of refinement. In the Victorian era, elegant reticules adorned with intricate beadwork or embroidery were favored by high society ladies. These delicate pouches were suspended from dainty chains or ribbons, epitomizing the grace and femininity of the era.

As fashion evolved through the decades, so too did the sling bag. In the roaring twenties, the iconic flapper style gave rise to sleek, compact bags adorned with fringe and Art Deco embellishments. The post-war era saw the emergence of structured handbags crafted from luxurious materials such as leather and exotic skins, signaling the dawn of modern luxury.

The Rise of Rich Born

In recent years, the resurgence of vintage-inspired fashion has brought the ladies sling bag back into the spotlight. Leading the charge is Rich Born, a renowned brand synonymous with quality craftsmanship and timeless design. With a heritage dating back to [insert year], Rich Born has perfected the art of creating exquisite sling bags that marry classic elegance with contemporary flair.

Timeless Elegance

What sets Rich Born ladies sling bags apart is their unparalleled attention to detail and commitment to quality. Each bag is meticulously crafted from the finest materials, including supple leather, rich suede, and sumptuous textiles. From the sleek silhouette to the intricate hardware, every element is carefully considered to ensure both beauty and functionality.

The versatility of Rich Born sling bags is another key factor in their enduring popularity. Whether paired with a tailored suit for a boardroom meeting or a flowing dress for a night on the town, these bags effortlessly elevate any ensemble. With adjustable straps and multiple compartments, they offer practicality without sacrificing style, making them the perfect accessory for the modern woman on the go.

A Sustainable Choice

In an era of increasing environmental awareness, the sustainability of fashion brands has become a pressing concern for consumers. Fortunately, Rich Born is committed to ethical and eco-friendly practices, sourcing materials responsibly and minimizing waste in the production process. By investing in a Rich Born ladies sling bag, you're not just purchasing a fashion statement – you're supporting a brand that values sustainability and social responsibility.

[bellisimahandbags]

MYRA BAGS: BEST-SELLING WOMEN'S BAGS Leather Laptop Bag Southwest Fringed Bag Hair On Leather Sling Bag VISIT US: www.BellissimaHandbagsUsa.com FREE SHIPPING in the USA

[slingbags]

Fashion Resolutions: Upgrading Your Wardrobe with a Sling Bag

Introduction:

In the ever-evolving world of Craft Bazaar fashion, staying on trend and expressing your personal style can be both exciting and challenging. One versatile accessory that has stood the test of time is the Sling Bag. These stylish and functional bags have become a staple in modern wardrobes, offering a perfect blend of fashion and practicality. In this blog post, we will explore the significance of sling bags and provide you with fashion resolutions to upgrade your wardrobe with this must-have accessory.

The Rise of Sling Bags:

Sling bags, also known as crossbody bags, have witnessed a surge in popularity in recent years. Originally associated with outdoor and sports activities, these bags have transcended their utilitarian roots to become a fashion statement. The sleek and compact design of sling bags makes them an ideal choice for those who crave both style and convenience. Whether you're a fashion enthusiast or someone always on the go, incorporating a sling bag into your wardrobe can elevate your overall look.

Versatility in Design:

One of the key features that make sling bags a fashion favorite is their versatility in design. Available in various shapes, sizes, and materials, sling bags cater to a diverse range of tastes and preferences. From classic leather sling bags for a polished look to trendy canvas or nylon options for a casual vibe, there's a sling bag for every occasion. The adjustable strap allows for customization, letting you wear it across the chest or on your back for a hands-free and effortlessly chic appearance.

Accessorizing Your Outfits:

Now that we understand the appeal of sling bags, let's delve into the fashion resolutions that can help you seamlessly integrate these stylish accessories into your wardrobe.

Experiment with Colors and Patterns:

Break away from neutral tones and explore sling bags in vibrant colors or eye-catching patterns. Adding a pop of color or a bold pattern to your outfit can instantly elevate your style and make a statement.

Mix and Match Textures:

Embrace the tactile nature of fashion by pairing your sling bag with different textures. For example, combine a leather sling bag with a silk blouse or a canvas bag with a denim ensemble. Mixing textures adds depth and interest to your overall look.

Day-to-Night Transition:

Opt for a versatile sling bag that effortlessly transitions from day to night. Choose a neutral color that complements various outfits, allowing you to seamlessly go from casual daytime activities to more formal evening events without changing your bag.

Accessorize with Minimalistic Jewelry:

Keep the focus on your sling bag by pairing it with minimalistic jewelry. A dainty necklace or a sleek bracelet can add a touch of elegance without overwhelming your outfit.

Functional Fashion:

Consider the functionality of your sling bag. Choose a design with multiple compartments to organize your essentials efficiently. This not only enhances practicality but also ensures you're prepared for any occasion.

Mix Sling Bags with Different Styles:

Experiment with different styles of sling bags to complement various fashion aesthetics. Whether it's a bohemian fringed sling bag, a sleek and modern leather option, or a sporty nylon design, diversify your collection to suit different moods and occasions.

Conclusion:

As we embark on a new year, make it a fashion resolution to upgrade your wardrobe with the timeless and practical sling bag. The key lies in experimenting with colors, textures, and styles to find the perfect sling bag that resonates with your personal taste. By following these fashion resolutions, you'll not only stay on trend but also discover the versatile and transformative power of sling bags in enhancing your overall style. So, sling it over your shoulder and step confidently into the world of fashion, where style meets functionality in perfect harmony.