#he gets tired. he needs some comfort........ (((dominique)))

[kudakii]

have i told everyone that i’m insane about royal affairs yet. because i’ve been thinking about it all week. oh the “everyone seems like a chess piece, i only have soft spots for those close to me, especially this sunshine childhood friend that gives me comfort every time i see their smile” trope in my mc ezra and dominique.......

[luca-street-chris-deacon-rp]

Welcome!!!!!😁😁😁😁😁

Please read, it isn't that long I promise you so your eyes won't get tired and your minds won't get bored 😜 Always feel free to reach out.

Hey there! Mun is 32, Female from the UK 😁

This is an active blog with established muses and I'm a very easy peasy writer to get along with and I'm always open to news ideas, storyline's and plots. All I ask is that writing partners are open to various storyline's (This goes both ways) fluff, romance,smut, angst and drama, kink and some taboo that can be discussed privately and you respond with literate responses. A single line as a reply or very short replied aren't going to work, so if that's how you write then that's not for me. I don't need a dozen paragraphs but one or two doesn't hurt.

I'm open to mutual's and non mutual's, but please pop a message so we can chat and figure out where we are going with it.

•I will NOT write with someone under the age of 21

•I will NOT write NSFW content with muses under the age of 21

▪︎Multiverse and Multiship (Open to most fandoms)

Feel free to send openers, but pop a message so we can discuss which direction we want to move in.

Any questions? Feel free to message and let us write some beautiful magic together 😁😁😁

●The Rules●

▪︎All writing partners must be 21+ as NSFW may be involved or will be themed on the blog

▪︎No Godmodding

▪︎We can discuss triggering subjects privately to ensure both parties are comfortable with the content, eg Muse A is dealing with addiction.

▪︎Kinks and AntiKinks will always be discussed.

▪︎Communication is key, so let's communicate.

▪︎I will use extra characters (from the show for example) To add some extra oomph and dynamics to the thread, so feel free to include your mused friends or additional characters as side muses in a sense.

All muses are SWAT officers for the LAPD and very possibly be used in verses as detectives, preferably still in LA.

■The Muses■

Dominique Luca

Faceclaim - Kenny Johndon

Age - 47-60 depending on the plot

Occupation - SWAT officer/ Detective depending on verse

Sexuality- Straight/Gay/Bisexual (Depending on verse)

Personality- Kind, caring, passionate, loyal and brave, easygoing, stubborn, protective, dominant, mysterious, hard headed, opinionated, morally guided, teddy bear, a dynamic lover, trustworthy, experienced lover, numerous, prankster, patient, flirtatious

Background (Can be adjusted depending on verse)

Dominique Luca is a third generation SWAT officer and has had a string of failed relationships his entire life and he is literally a happy go lucky guy, but very deep rooted with his own demons. He's the cool, fun, lovable rogue that everyone loves and wants to spend time with the people he loves. He is a natural athele, boxing and arm wrestling, dabbled in wrestling and is always usually the upbeat one. He very much cares for his team who is his family after a difficult relationship with his father and grandfather.

(More details from the show can be added, but I like him still mysterious with plenty of surprises in store)

Jim Street

Faceclaim- Alex Russell

Age - 33-36 depending on the plot

Occupation- SWAT officer LAPD

Sexuality - Straight/Gay/ Bisexual (Depending on verse)

Personality- Impulsive, hot shot mentality, hotheaded, caring and selfless, troubled and deep, cocky and boarding on arrogant, impatient and impatient, compassionate, loyal and protective, rule breaker, trustworthy

Background (Can be adjusted depending on verse)

Street grew up in a household of domestic violence between his two parents and when he was 12, he entered the fostercare system when his mother shot and killed his father and ended up in prison. Being a kid with trauma after the beatings he had received himself, he resented his mother and got into trouble and in with the wrong crowd until the arresting officer of his mother took him under his wing and eventually he joined the LAPD. In the beginning he was a hot head, a wannabe big shot and cocky and mellowed eventually with some guidance and a few reality checks along the way. He quickly becomes an essential part of the team and family.

Chris Alonso

Faceclaim - Lina Esco

Age -35

Occupation- SWAT officer LAPD

Sexuality - Bisexual

Personality - Secretive and mysterious, passionate, fiesty, has a chip on her shoulder, intelligent, forgivingnand unforgiving, compassion and consideration, loyal, rule breaker, ambitious, disciplined, courageous and loyal, protective, spunky, bad ass and volatile, argumentative

Background (Can be adjusted depending on verse)

Chris is Colombian- American, her mother an alcoholic and a criminal who often made Chris's life he'll and as she navigated a difficult childhood, her mother died in an car accident while she was drunk and at the police station she overheard two officers joking about her mother's current state of remains. This firmly made Chris decide that she wanted to be a police officer and to treat victims and next of kin with respect and dignity. At 14, she was kidnapped by a local gang in mistaken identity and was beaten, tortured and sexuall assaulted which hardened her resolve and made her distrusting while she lived with her aunt, uncle and cousins. She didn't tell her family of the abuses she suffered until many years later. Chris worked as a police officer in LA before becoming a K-9 handler, her dog Champ was her trusted partner and then she joined SWAT as the LAPD's only female officer in history until she tried to enforce fairer opportunities for women. Being the only female in history to join SWAT has made her volatile and a badass because she needs to prove her position and her earned spot on the team. Everything the guys can do, she can do better.

David "Deacon" Kay

Faceclaim - Jay Harrington

Age -47 - 50 (depends on verse)

Occupation- - SWAT sergeant LAPD

Security - Straight/ Gay/Bisexual (Depending on verse)

Personality - Quiet and composed, ethically minded, natural leader, family orientated, loyal and trustworthy, tough personal, protective and fierce, selfless, self-sacrificing, religious, faithful, sensual, responsible, calm, cautious, confident, disciplined and diplomatic, uptight and easy going, independent, honourable, mature, patient.

Background (Can be adjusted depending on verse)

David "Deacon" Kay was named so by his fellow officers due to him being a Deacon at his church, married to Annie who was studying environmental law when she discovered she was pregnant and over the course of their marriage, had three more children so four in total. She also dropped out of college so she could support her husband of climbing the SWAT and LAPD ladder so she took care of the children. Deacon has a very strict lifestyle as a father and husband, religious and promotes life long qualities in his children and offers support and advice when needed to his team.

(For this character I will write Deacon that he is separating or has separated from Annie, but still very much an active parent. If he is bisexual or gay in some verses he will still be religious to a degree)

[hellokirian]

The Hunt

"Report."

"We've found fresh marks sir, it's really hard to pinpoint who they belong to, but these are the only leads we have so far."

"Understood, tell men to start packing we're moving out"

"Yes, sir!"

Bloody marshes. They would have given up on this chase three days ago when they've just entered the Despoiled Bog, but with their guest, it was impossible to turn around or even think about giving up. Lord-general Dominique left his tent to see that the band immediately started readying for departure and to get some fresh air. Though fresh was a strong word for this place, the air always smelt like milk that has been left on the sun for too long and now turned sour with the addition of a dead rat that decided to end it all on the bottom of the jug. Oh how he envied that imaginary rat.

A guard on duty saluted him and joined him on his way to the band commander, but was stopped short of reaching him by another scout. 

"Uh, Lord General, our guest would like to see you."

Dominique didn't answer anything and just scowled. Which made his face probably look even worse than he felt after a ten day march.

He turned in the direction of the tent that the scout came from. It was Dominique's tent originally but he had to make sure that the best is secured for the guest.

He stopped in front of it and made several deep breaths while trying to find at least some hospitality left in him. He motioned the guard to stay behind and went in transforming the scowl into a smile.

"Dominique, we're near the end of our adventure, and I must say that this was an enthralling experience for me, but most of all, I will miss your friendly face."

"Yes, my lord, I will also miss these adventures with you," he said looking around his tent that now smelled of rare aromas and had a light smoke swirling between unnatural lights that were produced by a strange device on the table. He caught a glimpse of his own "friendly face" in the full-length mirror and tried to relax, he looked like he just killed a man. Unshaven, bags under his eyes and incredibly tired did not help his overall state.

His eyes flicked back to the guest, a tall, slender man with dusky, smooth skin bereft of any kind of hair. His clothes were pristine: practical trousers tucked into high boots, a verdant blouse, and a violet long neck cape that concealed his movements. He was impeccably clean, an impossible feat in this place.

Dominique kept his gaze slightly to the right, avoiding direct eye contact, or looking at them "The scouts should have reported to you first, my lord. If you prefer, we can continue the pursuit while you return to the city—"The man stood without a sound, lifting the device from the table. His movements were so fluid that Dominique could swear he just floated up. The guest looked directly at him. "This will not do," the man said in a soothing tone, as if explaining something simple to a child. "I must be present for this task." He paused, watching Dominique’s reaction. "You don’t understand the importance of this as we do, but I thought the urgency, the payment, and my presence already made that clear."

Dominique stiffened. "Yes, my lord, I apologise. I only thought that perhaps this place wasn’t suited to your comfort—"

"Comfort?" The guest’s voice turned icy. "I have no need for comfort, Lord General. I think you’re confusing me with your lords, or perhaps even with your pathetic excuse for a king, your father. How long has it been since he left the castle or even his chambers? Ten years?"

Dominique clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking as he suppressed the urge to respond. Slowly, he exhaled and forced himself to meet the guest’s gaze. "Yes, my lord. I understand. We’ll move out immediately, as you’ve said—the end of the adventure is near."

The man smiled, his eyes devoid of any menace, as if their brief exchange had never held any tension or meaning to him. He patted Dominique’s shoulder before leaving the tent, holding the covered evertorch. It was covered since the Council’s hound approached the general, so why did he see him so clearly?

Dominique was left standing in the dark with cold sweat covering his back.

[william-a-weasley]

It was getting late, and their two girls appeared to be defying their bedtime routine. Molly had spent the evening after dinner dispensing sweets to her grandchildren, very much against their parents’ wishes do to the high sugar content. Bill had foreseen this scenario before they returned home. Both girls were full of energy and running around in their nighties. He was sitting downstairs with Fleur, reading (or at least trying to read) the Daily Prophet in his big, leather armchair nearest the fireplace. He hoped that the girls would tire themselves out and carry themselves to bed willingly but, as the minutes passed, Bill was starting to lose hope. He continued to hear the pitter patter of their little feet and the last thing he wanted to do was get angry at his two children.

When Fleur requested that he wrangle them in, Bill nodded his head, folded up the Daily Prophet in his lap, and pushed himself out of the comfort of his chair, “Girls! C’mon, now! It’s bedtime!” He called up to them as he left the living room and ascended the stairs.

He found Victoire and Dominique chasing each other across the hallway, dodging each other and giggling and carrying on as if it were the middle of the afternoon. He scooped up Dominique by the waist and carried her under his arm while he reached for Victoire’s hand.

Bill wound up escorting them back to their shared bedroom. He lifted Dominique onto her bed and guided Victoire over to her’s across the room.

“Papa! Papa! Bedtime story!” Dominique demanded but, it was too late for that. He wanted to get the girls into bed as soon as possible so he could help Fleur into theirs. He knew that she was struggling, physically and emotionally, with this new pregnancy and she needed his support.

“Not tonight, Sweetie. It’s time to sleep,” he pulled the covers of Victoire’s bed back and tucked her in. Next was Dominique, who seemed to be exhibiting more energy than her big sister. He tucked her in and pressed and affectionate kiss to her forehead, “We’ll see you in the morning,” he promised them before he made his way towards the door and doused the light, blanketing the room in darkness. When it became clear that they were finally settling in, he pulled the door closed behind him and descended the staircase back to his pregnant wife.

“Do you need help getting ready for bed?” He asked Fleur when he returned to the living room. He leaned some of his weight against the back of the sofa, waiting for her to hand him his duties for the rest of the night.

SEASONAL

“Ne me fais pas te dire deux fois,” Fleur shouted upstairs knowing that she would, in fact, have to tell her girls a handful of more times to get ready for bed. It did not matter that they had spent the last week on vacation or most of the day playing with their cousins and were exhausted. Part of the normal routine lately was the struggle to get both girls into bed at a reasonable time. School was starting soon and they needed to get back in the habit of having a normal routine at a normal time.

“Victoire, Dominique…” Fleur shouted up the stairs hearing the patter of feet back and forth on the dated wooden planks. Each step echoing in her head causing her head to throb more than it already was. The girls were not the only ones who needed an early bedtime. Whoever said the second trimester was easier certainly had no idea what they were talking about. At least, not in regards with this pregnancy. Sixteen weeks in and she felt worse than she had the first trimester.

Sighing, Fleur brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and rested a gentle hand on her tiny, but rapidly growing, baby bump. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to wrangle in two rambunctious children. “Could you?” She asked turning to her husband. The children listened to Bill most days and more than likely, would not give him a hard time about going to bed.

[lonely-teddy-bear]

The Alpha’s Weak Mate ➳ Harry Styles a.u. (Ch. 3)

word count: 3k

A/N: here’s a longer chapter 😁 hope you enjoy and hope you like Harry lol.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Chapter Three

*Kyles POV*

No no no no no. No. She couldn't have found her mate. I didn't want to believe it. This is not what I thought was going to happen.

When she looked at me and I saw her brown eyes turn gold I knew I had lost her and I didn't just lose her to her mate but to an alpha.

I couldn't look away from Dom. She was still on the floor covered in dirt, her hair was a mess and her face was puffy and red from her crying and screaming. All I wanted to do was to hug her and comfort her, tell her everything was going to be alright but I knew I couldn't. Not anymore.

If her mate wasn't an alpha I would have probably gone to her and helped her get up but I didn't want to mess with an alpha, especially with the Bloodlust alpha. I didn't know how he would react but I knew he wouldn't like it for me to be near his mate. Alphas and betas worked like that. They were really possessive of what was theirs, especially their mate. No man could touch them or look at them because they would be all over them real fast.

I swallowed hard when I saw him, Dom's mate, staring at me, no, he was glaring at me. He looked like he wanted me dead and I think I know why.

"Why was he with you in the same house. We're you two fucking or what?" I didn't hesitate but to growl at him when I heard him speak to Dom like that. He had no right to be speaking like that to her, she was still so innocent.

He looked at me and glared at me. "You shut the hell up," I didn't say anything but glare at him. He was an alpha, I couldn't argue with him.

'Dad I need you and the alpha. Please. It's Dom. She found her mate. Please dad come.' I mind linked my dad and I knew he was on his way. I didn't know what else to do, I couldn't get up and fight him, I loved Dom so much but I didn't want to die.

Dom was still looking at her mate from the floor and I just wanted to go up to her and get her up on to her feet. She looked like she was daydreaming but that was usually normal for wolves when they find their mate, except this alpha, he didn't look affected at all. I saw him grab her by her arm and pick her up which made me stand up ready to attack in case he does something to her.

I saw my dad along with the alpha running towards me. They looked tired and dirty like any other wolf right now.

"Hey can I help you? Who the fuck are you?" My alpha, Eric, walked up to where Dom was with her mate and I could see the tension between them two. Dom's mate growled at Eric when he stepped closer and moved around to where Dom would be behind him.

"I'm alpha Styles from the Bloodlust pack. You know who I am," I felt my face pale and I could see that Eric had gotten tensed along with my dad. Dom didn't seem bothered by the fact of who her mate was but because she still seemed to be in a daze.

Eric shook of his head in shock and stepped closer to alpha Styles, "what are you doing in my pack? Why the hell are you attacking my people? We haven't done anything for you to do this." Eric was talking with his alpha tone but Dale didn't seemed bothered.

Alpha Styles sneered at him and got close to his face and saw him point at me, "his scent and her scent," he point at Dom, "was near the border and I came to find out that she is my mate so not only did I come here to get her but also to give your people a warning, to remind you all about what happens when you go near my border." I saw my dad glare at me and look at me in disappointment. I know I'm going to be blamed for all this.

"Okay well you did enough. You can take your mate and go. Now." I looked at my alpha in shocked.

"Alpha he can't just take her!" He turned to look at me and he gave me that sympathetic look, "I'm sorry but she's his mate and he's the alpha. She has to go with him. I'm sorry ." I knew he was right but I didn't want to believe it, I didn't want her to go, not just yet.

"We'll be getting out of here now since I have what I came for." Alpha Styles turned around and picked up Dom as if she was a rag doll and put her over her shoulders. The two big guys that were just standing and had dragged us out followed their alpha. I couldn't look away from them, I wanted to run towards them and take Dom away from him but I knew I would be killed for even touching his mate.

Not minutes later I heard screaming from within the woods, but it wasn't just any scream it was Dom screaming for me and I swear my heart had never hurt as much as it did right now.

*Dominique's POV*

I was kicking and punching my so called mate.

"Let me down, I want to go back. Please let me at least say goodbye to Kyle." I was crying, I didn't know what to do at this point. I had been dragged out of my house in the middle of the night just to be thrown to my mate and for him to just take me like that? I couldn't even say Kyle's name because he would just growl at me like right now.

"He is not your mate so forget him." I felt his arms tighten around my legs and I couldn't help but notice that his hands were no where near my ass. At least he's respectful.

"He's my best friend! I can't just forget him. I grew up with him, he's like my brother, I love him," I immediately regretted saying those last words because next thing I know he stops and throws me down to the floor and is scowling at me. His growl and his stare makes me squirm and I try to move away from him but he places a foot over my leg causing me to stop.

"You will not be saying that you love another man. Not in front of me and my pack. You better forget about that boy or I swear I will come back and get rid of him with my own bare hands. Do you understand?" I didn't move or say anything because all I could do was stare at him.

He let out a deeper growl, "I said, do you understand?" I nodded quickly when he bended down and pulled me by my legs.

"Get up, you're walking the rest of the way." I didn't really have a choice because he was the one to pull me up and grabbed me by the arm once I was standing and starting walking while pulling me by the arm.

I couldn't help but to think how I ended up getting him as my mate. Like where have I gone wrong in life that the goddess herself made me for him? We didn't have anything in common, because he was an alpha and I was an omega. Alpha's always have strong mates because they are the ones that will become luna of the pack so they have to be strong and that't not what I was. I could do everything a wolf could but my strength wasn't the best, especially for me. I had injured my leg couple years ago when rogues attacked my pack and when some broke in to my house, they started attacking me along my parents. When I saw that my parents were being killed I had shifted and while I was fighting one of them another wolf came behind me and bit my leg causing me to give up on the fight because the bite was so deep. I wasn't able to shift back to my human body so I had to limp all the way to the clinic we had. After that I just gave up training because every time I fought a nerve on the leg would just pull causing me to be in pain.

Either way I was no help to him.

I looked around us, it was dark, I didn't know what time it was but it was still too early to be out in the woods. I recognized where we were, it was where Kyle and I were playing around, before we crossed the border.

"You know we rated all of your pack just to find you? Your scent was everywhere. Why is that? It's not like you are that important in the pack." I was speechless. Did he really say I was not important? I turned to look at him and glared at him.

"I am important." I said while still glaring at him. I turned away to look where I was going but heard him scoff. "I didn't say you weren't."

"Yes you did. You said I wasn't important to my pack." He let out a noise of agreement but sounded like he acknowledge what I said.

"Well if you were congrats." I didn't even bother talking to him so I just stayed quiet and continued walking towards his pack.

'Dom? Can you hear me?' I stopped at the sound of Kyle. I looked up to see my mate stop and looked at me confused.

"Why are you stopping? Keep walking." I started walking slow so I wouldn't cross the border quickly. I looked down so my mate wouldn't notice my eyes being glazed from mind linking someone.

'Yeah I'm fine. We are by the border. I will miss you and know that I love you.' I felt a tear go down my cheek and wiped it away before my mate noticed me crying.

'I love you too and I promise I will see you again. We can figure out how to keep in touch okay?' A small smile appeared on my lips because of course he will try to find a way to communicate with me.

'Okay, I'll be waiting. We are about to cross so.'

'Yeah okay. Well I guess I'll see you later. Love you.'

Right before I crossed the line that bordered our packs I send one last mind link towards Kyle, 'See you later. Thank you for everything.'

Once we crossed I could feel the mind link get cut off. I was already in the bloodlust pack. I turned around to look back to where my pack was and I swear I saw a familiar wolf hiding behind a tree. I just chuckled and shook my head because I knew who it was.

"What did your boy toy say to you?" I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at my mate as if he just caught me committing a crime which to him, mind linking Kyle was probably a crime.

I let out a scoff and glared at him, "He's not my boy toy, he's my best friend." He looked pissed off by the look of his face, his jaw was clenched up and his nostrils were flared.

I didn't say anything after and just ignored him. I didn't notice that the two big guys have left along with the other wolves that had been following us. I didn't really know where we were going but I just followed behind, trying not to trip.

~~~~~~~~~~~

We were standing in front of a big house, the pack house I think. Back in my pack the pack house was where the alpha and the luna lived and it was also where the meetings happened. The pack houses were usually big, maybe up to three floors and with a big backyard. This houses were not only for the alpha to be living at but to be able to hold events, like parties, balls, and any other event.

"Welcome home," my mate said without looking at me and went ahead and opened the door leaving me alone outside in the dark.

I looked around and I didn't see anyone around, I was the only one out here, in the middle of the night. I could feel the energy leave my body, feeling tired but I didn't want to go into the house because if I go in I will be alone with him.

I looked around me one more time and let out a sigh and made my way over to the house. I closed the door behind me and couldn't help but to look around the house. The entrance was big and there where two staircases, one on each side, it didn't look like the pack house back in my pack, this one looked enormous.

"You must be tired. Let's go and sleep, we'll talk tomorrow." I looked to my right where I saw my mate come out from with two bottles of water. He handed me one and signaled me to follow him up the stairs. I couldn't help but to ask him where I was going to be sleeping but there's no way in hell I will be sleeping in the same room as him.

"You will sleep in my room, with me," he glanced back to me and then turned to look to the front, "is that a problem?" It was, I wanted to say but really, he scared me. He was taller and stronger than me, he wasn't build like the two guys that pulled me and Kyle out of my house, he actually looked like a normal guy that works out sometimes or maybe everyday but you can still see that he was strong. Once we were on the second floor he went into a hall and made a turn to the left just to go up to more stairs. While he climbed them I stayed at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. There were doors at the end of the stair cases, two doors that i'm assuming open up to his room. My mate must have felt that I wasn't behind him and turned around and looked at me.

"What are you doing down there? Get up here, now." I didn't have a place to argue because he ended up using his alpha voice which my wolf didn't like. She didn't like that our own mate would be demanding us as if we were just one of his pack and not his mate.

I went up the stairs and didn't look at him, he was already in the room waiting by the doors. Once I was inside he closed the door and I heard them get locked. I didn't comment on them and just walked further into the room. The room was enormous, no wonder it took a whole floor. The bed was probably a king, I wouldn't know because I had a twin bed so I didn't know the size of this bed but it was huge and then there was a couch in one corner that faced towards a wall where a tv was hanged up in the wall. I could see there was a balcony on the same side where the couch and tv was and on the other side of the room there was another couch but there was a bookshelf next to it. This room was a whole house, he had a lot yet there was still a lot of space. I saw that there was a door near the library and I went towards it and opened it to see that it was the bathroom but it wasn't just a bathroom, it was a whole room. There was a tub that looked like a jacuzzi and then next to it was the shower with clear glass, I quickly got shy noticing that it was glass and you could just see me naked if someone walked in. The more I went in the more things I saw. In the corner was the toilet, nothing fancy and the sink was for two people and it was big, a huge mirror faced the bath and shower which made me feel more uncomfortable and then what caught my eye was the door on the other side of the bathroom. I went over it and opened it to see that it was a walking closet. My mates clothes was there which consisted of all black which didn't surprise me at all. While I was walking around and exploring the room I could feel him watching every move I did. I didn't look at him at all, I didn't speak to him and I didn't question him at all.

I walked passed him and into the room and sat at the end of the bed. I wasn't going to lie that the bedroom wasn't nice because it was, it was beautiful and cozy and clean which was surprising.

"What do you think?" I looked up to look at my mate, I looked at him in the eyes and then looked away.

"What do you want me to think?" he looked annoyed with me.

"What do you think of the room? Do you like it? Is there something you want me to add to it?" I looked at him with a tired face.

"It's fine the way it is." He gave me a nod and just stood there with his hands in his pockets. He was more awkward than what he was, wasn't he supposed to be all controlling like how he was outside?

"Well you must be tired. Do you want to change clothes or take a shower?" I looked down at my clothes and saw that my pajamas were full of dirt, I also felt gross and sticky.

I looked up and nodded at him, "I would like to shower. Do you by any chance have clothes for me to wear?" he walked towards the bathroom and signaled me to follow him. "You can borrow some of my clothes for now, I'll send someone over to your place in the morning to gather your clothes and some of your items. Here is a tooth brush and the toothpaste is there. Everything you need to shower is in that small cabin so go through it and get what you need." I just nodded and didn't bother looking at him. He cleared his throat and heard him walk away, "Okay well I'll let you be, if you need anything just yell for me."

Before he closed the door of the bathroom I turned around and stopped him, "What's your name?" He stopped and turned around, he looked at me from head to toe.

"My name is Harry, Harry Styles. and you are..."

"Dominique but you can call me Dom." He just nodded and turned around and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

[harryissuchalittleshit]

I’d love some headcanons on Bill and fleur with their children. I know their relationship isn’t good still......

Yes!!!

Victoire:

So everything changes when Dominique is born

Victoire is seven years older than her, eight years older than Louis

All of her parents attention is taken off of her, and they didn’t even ask her if she wanted to be an older sibling

Basically she doesn’t like the baby boom in the family, James, Freddie, and Roxanne are about five years younger than her, while Rose and Al are six

By the time she Hogwarts age she can’t wait to be out of the cottage

Whenever she comes home, she’s treated like the family babysitter, along with Teddy

She was the first person to notice something was off with Louis

By the time she’s sixteen, she starts to make her only plans for the summer with her grandparents in France and Tante Gabrielle

It’s where she meets her future husband SJ

They have a long distance relationship until SJ just shows up at the Memorial Day on May 2nd

He’s two years older than Victoire and already graduated from Beauxbatons

Bill doesn’t like him, he just sees all the trouble he’s going to cause for them, but Victoire doesn’t care

A few days after she’s graduated from Hogwarts, she just leaves

She’s tired of the fighting, she tired of Bill being a bit controlling, she’s just tired of it all

She and SJ run off to France together and elope and get pregnant very quickly

(Because they were already pregnant)

Arcturus, their oldest is born in January

Victoire and SJ got into a fight before she went into labor and SJ left her to clear his head, but by the time he came back she was gone

He calls her parents in hope that they can help, and this is what they had fought about

She had lied to him about her parents knowing where she was, and had refused to get into contact with them about the baby

Bill and Fleur bring them both back to England with them and get them a flat and SJ a job with Teddy

But Victoire doesn’t want any of it

When she gets on her feet, she and SJ move out of the flat and into their own place hidden from the rest of the family

They rarely go to any family events, and she never returns back to Shell Cottage

She just doesn’t want what her parents want for her, she wants to live the life she choose for herself and if it means cutting out her parents she will

And it’s exactly what she does

Dominique:

She Bill’s favorite and she knows it and uses it to her advantage

She isn’t close to Fleur, she just isn’t the daughter that Fleur wanted

She isn’t graceful or calm or elegant, she’s a tomboy and loves it

She refuses to wear skirts or heels, she’s rubbish at French, and she’s the family gossip

Dominique knows all the secrets and loves to share them

Until she becomes the secret

Getting pregnant at sixteen with the wrong twins baby was not the plan, it was supposed to be Lorcan, not Lysander

Though honestly the getting pregnant part was really really not the plan at all

Add in the fact that she doesn’t want to tell her parents, she doesn’t seek comfort in her parents, and she doesn’t want to even factor in her parents, you get a pretty big strain

They want her to keep the baby and drop out of Hogwarts and raise him at home with their help

Dominique instead gives him up for adoption

She can’t raise this baby, she’s too young and immature and she knows this about herself

They try to put that year behind them, but it lingers whenever Dominique is around and she knows it

Then she drops the bombshell that she got accepted into Muggle University

Bill and Fleur are furious, they think she’s trying to follow the same path as Victoire

She leaves days after she graduates from Hogwarts and moves into the dorms

She builds a life at university, she waits tables and does well in her classes, when she graduates she marries Lorcan

Her parents don’t approve of Lorcan or Lysander anymore after the whole pregnancy thing

Lorcan covered for Lysander and took the blame, until everything just fell apart

They never acknowledge Lorcan as family and it’s enough for Dominique to cut them out of their lives

Louis:

Not only is Louis the biggest surprise of their life, but he was also born very early, about ten weeks early

He was just barely four pounds when he was born, and completely silent

He lived in the NICU until September that year (he was born in April)

He brought so much stress to them and it didn’t stop from there

I mentioned earlier that Victoire was the first person to notice something was weird about Louis, that’s true

He has autism and Bill and Fleur just aren’t capable of handling it

Actually, they are, they just refuse to

It’s just a huge disappointment to them, Bill especially

Louis has no interest in Quidditch or chocolate frog cards or anything that Bill grew up with

But he loves to paint and sketch, he’s loves to go surfing and ride around on his longboard, he loves to drive the keep when he’s old enough

He speaks French best out of all three of them, even Victoire after she lived in France for six months with SJ

The issues are that he’s too quiet, he has extreme light sensitivity, he hates anyone to touch him without consent and even with consent

Everything has to be thought through and his family is too impulsive for that

Louis notices all the little cracks in their marriage, long before Bill and Fleur do

He can chart their fights in a three act play, and he only needs to say which act they’re in for Dominique to know when they can go downstairs

He knows more than anyone how much his sisters come and go from the cottage, his bedroom has the easiest window to climb back into

When he and Mia start dating, his parents aren’t concerned about Mia, they’re concerned about how he can be in a relationship

How he can be normal

Mia puts the ground rules down right away, mostly that there is no such thing as normal

Louis feels the same distance from his parents that his sisters alway talk about

When he graduates, it’s the first time that both of his sisters and his parents are all together in years

And it’s a mess

He and Mia move into a little cottage and elope and Louis finally feels ‘normal’ as his parents call it

Then Mia gets pregnant, and both his parents and her parents don’t think that they should be as happy as they are

They don’t think that Louis can raise a baby

But Mia does, and that’s all that matters

Louis is more in contact with his parents than his sisters, but the strain is obvious

I really love the Delacour/Weasley family, but I honestly don’t think that Bill and Fleur would be good parents or have great relationships with their children

[louiseleblancdiggory]

omg can you write more of rowan, aelin, nino and aurora? any scene is fine. it doesnt need to be in the SH plot

Ngl it took me a hot minute to understand that SH meant Safe Haven lol. I did a scene with all four of them, but it is not in the SH plot and I wrote it in like half an hour so the quality can be heavily questioned. I hope you still enjoy it though, my best friend gave the green light to post it

Hallway fights

--

“I’ll fucking kill you, Malik. Stop oogling my mom.” Nino was saying the moment they walked into the classroom. Everyone was already seated, and Mr. Whitethorn was pointing at something on the board. Immediately all the heads turned to them.

The class wasn’t too big, only ten people other than the two of them. Phedre and Evangeline were seated by the windows, two vacant seats in front of them. Marion, Mr. Salvaterre’s daughter, was seated by Killian. A few of his teammates from hockey, one girl that never bothered to talk to them— only avoid Malik—, and Josh.

The little bitch.

“Oh shit.” Malik whispered, but Nino knew everyone could still hear them. “I think we are late.”

“No?!” Nino mocked his best friend, his ears turning pink at all the attention both of them were receiving. He looked at Mr. Whitethorn apologetically. “We are so sorry, Mr. W. We thought we still had five minutes.”

“Nino is shit at math, the poor boy can’t count to save his life, that’s why.” Malik said, going to his seat by Phedre and Evangeline, both of which looked like they were trying very hard not to laugh. Nino gave Malik a slap on the back of the head, sitting down while his classmates giggled.

Mr. Whitethorn looked slightly amused, and Nino thanked the gods for his history teacher being so chill. If it had been Salvaterre he would be hanging from the ceiling by his underwear. “Do I even want to know?”

His tone left clear that it was a rhetorical question, but Malik was completely oblivious to it.

“I was telling Nino that he would be more attractive if he looked like his mom.” Nino shot him a look and Eva started laughing uncontrollably. “He’s butthurt because he knows it’s the truth.”’

Phedre flicked him on the back of the head while Eva tried to contain her laughter.

“Malik is right, you know.” Killian, one of Nino’s best friend and teammate added, a slow smile taking upon his face. His arm was around Marion’s shoulder. “Nino would be prettier if he looked like aunt Ace.”

“Can we please stop talking about my mom?” Nino grunted.

“But…” Malik started again, but was interrupted by Mr. Whitethorn.

“Yes, we will stop talking about Mr. Galathynius’s mom and focus on the class.” His voice was hard, but his face didn’t show any type of anger or annoyance. Being such a small school, Nino and his friends had had Mr. W for three years now, and would probably get him again next year. The guy was calm and his humor reminded him of his mother’s, so he instantly liked the classes. It was such a small one that Mr. W usually gave them more freedom than bigger classes would get, which was also fucking good.

Nino sent a thank you to the gods the moment Mr. W returned to the presentation, happy that the subject wasn’t on how his friends thought his mom was hot anymore.

He finally relaxed, thinking that now the day would go by without further problems.

——————————

He had gotten into a fight.

Her calm, smart son had gotten into a fight.

Aelin was more confused than angry when she received a call from the school asking her to come pick Nino up after classes were over because he had shoved another kid into a locker. Nino had been living with her for six years now, and he had never even raised his fist. For him to get into a whole fight was something so out of the blue that Aelin was extremely worried.

She took Aurora out of the car, the six year old clinging to her neck like a little monkey. Aurora was usually loud and booming with life in the privacy of their home. She had no problem talking to her family, to her brother’s much older friends or to her best and only friend Lachlan, but unknown places always made her retreat into herself.

Aelin’s heels clinked against the school’s floor. She had left work as quick as possible, picking Aurora up and going to Nino’s high school. She still wore her blue navy pants and blazer, a white button down underneath. Usually, when going to the kids’ school, she wore something more casual but she didn’t have the time to change.

When she approached the secretary’s desk, Aurora took her hand out of her mouth, saying a little hi to announce their arrival. The old woman looked up at them and Aelin smiled at her.

“I’m here for Dominique? Dominique Galathynius?” She asked the secretary, her smile becoming a little embarrassed. “He got into a fight earlier?”

“Oh! Nino.” The old woman exclaimed, a smile taking up her face. “Lovely boy, always stops by in the morning to say hello.”

Aelin smiled with no little amount of pride. Nino was one of the most polite people she had ever met, always making sure everyone got attention and was feeling comfortable. “I got a call to pick him up. Do you know where he would be?”

“I believe Mr. Whitethorn has taken the responsibility for the fight, so you could look in his history class. Room 163, go down the hall, two lefts and one right.” The secretary pointed to the hallway. “So unlike your boy to get into a fight.”

“Yeah, I know.” Aelin sighed. “I’ll go see what that was about. Thank you so much for the help.”

Aelin’s heels against the floor was the only sound until she reached the hallways that Mr. Whitethorn’s room was supposed to be. There, in front of a class, stood a small group of teenagers Aelin knew way too well considering the amount of time they spent at her house.

“Do I want to know what he did?” She asked, and all heads turned to her. A chorus of “Hi, aunt Ace” sounded, and Evangeline even stepped up to give her godmother a quick hug. Without warning, she took Aurora from Aelin’s arms, the little girl delighted to be in her cousin’s embrace.

“It wasn’t his fault, aunt Ace.” Malik said, his voice barely restrained with anger.

“Josh is a fucking scumbag.” Killian added, and Aelin knew his harsh tone wasn’t directed at her but Marion gave him a little slap on the chest anyways. He looked down at the girl and she signed say sorry with her hands. Killian smiled sheepishly at her and then at Aelin. “Sorry, auntie.”

Aelin turned to Phedre, knowing the girl was probably the only one calm enough to explain. She was completely surprised by seeing the girl shimmering with anger. “Kil is right, and so is Malik. Josh is an asshole and it wasn’t Nino’s fault.”

“It really wasn’t, aunt Ace.” Eva added, looking at Aelin even as Aurora played with her hair.

Aelin nodded. She believed her son’s friends. They had been an inseparable group for six years now, and Aelin knew each one of these kids as her own.

He had a busted lip, Marion signed, her hands moving slowly. All of her friends, Nino included, had learned how to use sign language so Marion wouldn’t feel left out. Aelin had started learning too, but she was slower than Nino or even Aurora. Just so you don’t look surprised when you get in.

“Thanks, Ma.” She nodded and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

When Aelin stepped into the room, her eyes went immediately to her son. His face had a purple bruise on the left side, making his green eyes stand out more, and his upper lip was busted. His inky black hair was a mess, but beyond that he seemed fine. Tired.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” She said, her voice soft. She turned to the teacher, staring at him a second too long before saying. “Hello, Mr. Whitethorn.”

“Ms. Galathynius. I wish we could have meet under more adequate circumstances.” He was talking and Aelin took the chance to look at him. Despite the whole situation, she couldn’t help but almost gape at how handsome her son’s history teacher was. His skin was tanned under his button down white shirt, the sleeves rolled back to reveal a tattoo that went from his left wrist and disappeared into the shirt. Mr. Whitethorn was extremely tall, and Aelin found herself needing to look up at his face even with her heels on. She eyed his toned body, broad shoulders, strong jaw and the lines that made up his face. Soft mouth, straight nose and pine green eyes looking directly at her, he looked like he belonged more on the cover of some magazine than in a history class.

“What happened?” She asked, shaking her head slightly. She had to focus on her son right now, not on his teacher.

“Your son pushed me into a locker and started punching my face.” The other boy, Josh, spoke. Where Nino had one bruise and a split lip, the other boy looked ten times worse.

She knew it wasn’t the ideal reaction, but a little smugness bloomed inside her chest.

“He was talking shit and bothering Eva.” Nino looked at his mom, his chin raising. “I won’t apologize for protecting my cousin.”

She gave him a barely perceptible nod, and his body relaxed. She turned again to Mr. Whitethorn, finding him staring at the two boys. “It’s the beginning of the hockey season and the middle of the football one. I don’t want to punish neither of you because I know it can affect your ability to participate in the games. But I hear about the two of you throwing punches on the hallways one more time and I will personally make sure that the two of you are out of the teams. Understood?”

The two boys nodded, and Aelin knew that her son wouldn’t be getting into fights anymore. At least not on school ground. Nino loved playing hockey with Malik and Killian way too much.

“The two of you are dismissed. I have called your mom already since she is traveling, Josh, and the other part of your problem will be dealt directly with Principal Blueblood. Ms. Galathynius, a word please.” He nodded at the boys as they got up to leave.

Aelin grabbed Nino’s arm as he passed by her. “Everyone is waiting outside.”

He nodded stiffly, whispering in her ear. “Am I in trouble?”

“You should be, shouldn’t you?”

He smiled, knowing his mom well enough to know what that meant. “I’m sorry you had to leave work early because of this.”

“Next time do it outside school grounds, Dominique.” She joked. “Your sister is outside. Were you planning on going home with everyone?”

“Yeah, movie marathon night. I have her seat in my car so I can take her with us while you talk to Mr. W.” Aelin nodded and Nino smiled, giving her a kiss on the forehead. He turned to his teacher and grinned. “Bye, Mr. W.”

“Don’t get into trouble, Dominique.” He said, but there was a small smile on his lips.

“I never do.” He responded, leaving the room.

Aelin and Mr. Whitethorn stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“He’s a great kid.” He said, gesturing for her to sit. “I was completely shocked when I heard he had gotten into a fight.”

“You and I both. I never saw Nino being even slightly aggressive outside the ice, Mr. Whitethorn.”

“Please, call me Rowan, Ms. Galathynius.”

“Then you can call me Aelin.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, sighing before he talked again. “Josh was making rude comments about Evangeline being adopted. Teasing her endlessly, and when Nino stepped up to help his cousin, Josh turned his attention to him. Repeated things he had said to Eva and included you in the conversation. Phedre told me he was barely containing his anger when Marion stepped up and put a hand on his arm, tugging him away. It would have probably ended at that if Josh hadn’t made fun of Marion for being mute. That’s when your son punched him.”

Aelin’s blood boiled and she was tempted to go punch the boy herself. She had taken Nino and Aurora in when she was still in college, barely twenty at the time. With her parents’ help along with Lys— who was Eva’s guardian since she was eighteen— and Aedion’s, she managed to raise Nino and Aurora. They were her kids as much as they would have been if she was their biological mom. She had always feared they would hear uncomfortable comments about it, but never thought it would be bad to the point that her calm boy would beat one of his classmates to a pulp.

Aelin also half wished she could see Lorcan punching the kid.

“Will I seem like a bad mom if I smile at the fact my son punched a boy to a pulp?” She genuinely asked, looking at Rowan.

His smile was warm, eyes glinting with humor. “No, but I’m a teacher so don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Aelin’s laughed was loud and bright.

——————————

Nino and his friends were watching his mom talk to Mr. W. They were going home, but Eva was curious to know if their teacher was pissed, so she looked through the little glass rectangle on the door. Then Malik and Phedre. Then Killian pulled Marion along and Nino had no option but follow, Aurora asleep while he held her in piggy back.

They watched Mr. W talking to her, his face relaxed. Watched as his mom answered. Watched in absolute confusion as he smiled at Nino’s mom and she threw her head back, laughing.

“Bro.” Malik said, sounding as if he had found the Holy Grail while he watched Aelin and Rowan talking and smiling. “I have a fucking idea.”

Tags:

@abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass

[welcometoels]

Session Twelve - Monthend

Among the entrails of a giant lizard creature and an undead Dragonborn, the victorious party stands.  The skies have cleared, and off to the south, a huge tower stands - Monthend.

This is a matter for tomorrow, though, since cleaner-turned-publican-turned-mayor Tiatha Rowe is standing in the doorway of the Jaunty Skinner, furious about the gore that slicks her entryway.  She fetches buckets, mops and brooms, and gets Normal Leg Barty on the case.

Oddsock is discomforted by the idea of cleaning and hides himself behind some barrels, but Julius mucks in with gusto, using his druidic magic to help sluice the worst of the detritus away from the pub.

Once everything and everyone is looking cleaner, Tiatha locks the pub doors, fetches all the bedding from upstairs, and invites everyone to enjoy ale and food on the house.  Barty fetches out a roasted two-faced pig from the back, along with some grilled fish for Julius.

A squeak is heard from Oddsock’s pack, and beside him appears two barrels, both marked in Infernal with their names - Elvish Juice and Jackies’ Hammer.  Accompanying them is a letter - also in Infernal - and a little bag of treats.  Oddsock wolfs down the treats before reading the letter, which is just as well, since that is what the letter instructs him to do.

The treats taste of Oddsock’s favourite meats - a mixture of imp and beholder flesh - barbecued and mixed with a variety of warm spices.  He feels a pleasant burn in his throat, which gives way to a gentle tingle of power.

Barty, spotting the barrels, fetches them over to the bar and taps them.  The sheer number of revellers proves to be a problem, however - the pub is short three clean mugs.

X produces her bejewelled Cup of Sune, and Oddsock his iron dog bowl.  Talion, after a moment, remembers the simple wooden cup in his pack, and produces it.

Barty - a man of the world who has seen many a magical thing - feels sure he recognises the cup, and asks for one of the party’s potions.  Filling the cup, he passes it to the clearly wounded Freginald.  Supping it down, the burly fighter reports that the potion seems to be at full potency.  Furthermore, he can sip what he needs from the potion, and leave the rest for another person.

At this time, what he needs is the whole lot, so he chugs it down before getting an ale.

Oddsock, meanwhile, has a chew on his dragon toy Tim, and requests an audience with his patron in his domain, rather than just at the edge of unreality.  It’s his first time in his patron’s lair, and he finds it rather comfortable - a small bar with a single beer pump dominates one wall, while the rest of the cosy space is bedecked with cushions and low tables, with howling dog head lanterns on the walls, spitting balls of fire from their mouths.

The two enjoy a nice chat over a fresh IPA, while Oddsock quizzes the black-robed figure about various things - mostly about the meanings of terms like “core competencies” and “vertical integration”.  The patron is unsure, and advises him to seek out a more evil being for these answers.

Back in regular reality, Julius carves a couple of his pebbles - one in the likeness of Barty, and the other as he imagines X’s goddess Sune.  Both turn out quite well, and he decides to offer them up as parting gifts in the morning.

Talion, meanwhile, begins a new composition - a stirring number that details the events from his arrival in Dogwood to the final defeat of Slathiel.  Even at these early stages, it is a fine song, and one that will doubtless get even better with successive renditions.

Kadis sits apart from the fun, contemplating the gear that was planted in his hand by mysterious forces.  It is made from a smooth material, with a suggestion of unknown magics.  In this respect, it is just like the egg that hangs next to his idol, but he feels no connection to it.

The drinking and eating continues with much joyous revelry, until the air is filled with the sound of steam-powered hooting.  Aberron - who had secreted himself in a corner with the remains of his brass owl Dominique - holds aloft his repaired companion, who spreads her wings in celebration.

The night draws on and the food and ale dwindles until nothing remains but sleep.  Oddsock gets the best place for himself - right by the hearth, in a pile of racoons.

The party has strange dreams of a creepy house filled with unknowable horrors, though Kadis finds that his usual writhing tentacles are confined behind a locked door.

After a moment, he finds himself on the other side of that door.  Before him is a single, glowing egg.  A dark tentacle slinks up and around it, clutching it tighter and tighter until the shell breaks.

Then, he sees a face.  Though it is older by some margin than the last time he saw it, it is definitely his own, with the strip of material bound around his eyes.

After a couple of minutes, he comes to a realisation:

He is no longer asleep.

As he reaches up to touch his face, his vision blurs and skips, until he can see himself from an elevation, lying on the inn floor with his friends.

Taking a moment to gain his bearings, he begins to move to where he believes the vision is coming from.  Understandably disoriented, he stumbles over Julius, who awakes with a hiss and a grumble.

Assisting each other, the two find the source of the visions - a tiny little floating green ball with a single eye in the middle, and four miniscule flickering tentacles.

Based on their encounter at Mansion de Mortesque, Julius identifies it as a beholder - probably a newborn, and much more alive than the one they fought before.

Julius gives Kadis a once-over, and finds nothing new or different about him that would explain his connection to the creature.  He does, however, notice that the mysterious idol is gone, and shards of it are across the monk’s chest.  The only thing that remains on Kadis’ necklace is the egg that was once a black-green lantern.

Feeling the bond with this creature, Kadis holds out his hand and beckons it to him.  It floats warily over, before nestling into his palm and purring gently.  Julius takes copious notes, and observes that the beholder’s connection to Kadis is similar to his own link with the fey weasel Rupert - who, upon hearing his name, pops up from under Julius’ potato sack robe, squeaking curiously.

By now, the rest of the party has awoken.  After a series of disgruntled borks, Oddsock accepts the new arrival, though Talion remains unimpressed.  The baby beholder, a little overwhelmed, tucks itself into Kadis’ clothes, peeking out with its little bulbous eye.

Now that the sun has risen, Tiatha unlocks the doors and Barty brings out the breakfast - porridge, and eggs in various styles from a farm in the north.  Oddsock tucks in to the eggs, and Julius enjoys the porridge, though Kadis and Talion are rather more wary.

After breakfast, Julius hands over his carved pebbles to their intended recipients.  Barty is moved almost to tears by the gift, but he keeps his cheeks dry through the sheer power of swarthiness.  X is also delighted, though she does mistake the woman in the carving for Em.  In either case, she is enchanted.

And so, the time comes for departures.  Aberron and Freginald decide to stay in Dogwood to pursue their new trades of artificery and tattoo artistry respectively.  38/12 also opts to stick around for a while to assist Aberron with his research into... whatever 38/12 is.

X and Gyder, unsurprisingly, decide to move on, having unfinished business elsewhere.  Barty also chooses to leave, to return home to his Polly - the most beautiful bird there ever was.  To fill his post at the Skinner, Tiatha recruits Dandy Bianco, former castle guard and horse testicle enthusiast.

Also leaving town today, though with very little fondness, is Eno Greysect.  Tired of his home being pissed upon and his nose being punched upon, he hangs up a sign reading “God Does Not Live Here” and strides miserably south.

Oddsock, naturally, changes the first word to “Dog” as he trots over to bid farewell to the Jackies.  His firm raccoon friends have committed themselves to keepings Oddsock’s beers brewing, and will share the profits next time he visits.  They also ask that he spreads the word of Dogwood to the Monthenders, so they they can grow the town and eventually start a proper Chamber of Commerce.

Oddsock agrees, and wonders how long it will be before the Jackies become mayors of the town.  Jackie Face mulls this over with a peculiar look upon his face while Oddsock exits cheerfully, a four pack of new raccoon-made health potions in his pack to share with the party.

Having bid farewell to their new friends, the party leaves town.  Then, after a moment, they return, having forgotten that they have two horses.  Then they leave town.

On the way to Monthend, a couple of things break up the journey.  Firstly, as evening draws in, the team arrives at the southern farm - the journey being much quicker with horses and without displacer beasts.

As they arrive, they see a familiar, unconscious Dwarf being loaded into a wagon, and being shuttled off to Monthend.  Apparently, last night, an undead Dragonborn burst out of the ground, shouting about a monk that had stolen his lantern, startling former trading post manager Grum Swabspud half to death.

The party feigns ignorance as they join the farmers for some simple food (no porridge) and some beds for the night.

Shortly after departing in the morning, they encounter a group of mounted High Elves, on their way to investigate the town that had suddenly appeared in the woods around (and owned by) Monthend.  Embracing the opportunity to quiz some of the new town’s residents, they join the group on the road to Monthend.

Many questions follow, most of which are answered by another stirring rendition of Talion’s new song.  The Elven guards vow to pass on the information - especially the addition details regarding new trading opportunities with several individuals named Jackie.

At the gates of Monthend, a miserable little horse administrator takes down the details of their steeds so they they can be kept in the stables until they leave.  When asked for the names of their horses, the team freezes - they never named them.  Fortunately, Oddsock uses his broken knowledge of Domestic Animal to speak to them and ask them.

Turns out they’re both called Horse.  Who would’ve thought?

After receiving a receipt made out to group leader Mr O Sock, the adventurers find themselves in the luxurious, high-end sprawl of Els’ unofficial capital, with nothing on their schedule.  This can mean only one thing...

Shopping!

Over the next couple of hours they put some serious damage into their communal funds.  Kadis purchases a new cloth to cover his eyes - one that can be carefully adapted to secrete an infant beholder, with a little slit for it to peek out.  Julius also opts for clothes, but something in a thicker hide than his current clobber.

Talion and Oddsock have their sights set on something more magical.  The dog goes sniffing around for magic ink, to transfer some Necromantic cantrips from the Mortesque books to his magical codex, while Talion attempts to chat with girl at the counter - a surly High Elf of no more than 90 years, with a tag that reads “Hello!  My Name Is NUNYA”

His conversational gambits are rebuffed, so he tries a little magical charm.  Suddenly, a crystal on the counter flashes with a lightning bolt that he barely avoids, and the girl taps a little sign on the counter which says “Do Not Charm The Staff”

Chastened, he browses the shelves an finds a copper bracelet within his price range, which slightly improves his weak constitution.  The High Elf rings up the sale with the same sullen disposition, tapping the sign reading “Do Not Bother The Staff” when Oddsock demands to speak to their raccoon.

Threats to speak to a supervisor follow, and the girl taps her Supervisor badge, and then a sign simply reading “No”.  The two leave the shop under a cloud, but take their revenge in their signature ways:  Talion playing a vicious polemic about poor customer service upon his lyre, while Oddsock pisses in the doorway.

On their way to rejoin the others, Kadis and Julius encounter a harried Tabby Tabaxi trying to wrangle two kitten-aged Persians out of the gutter where they’d found a rat, whilst also pushing a third kitten in a pram.  Julius goes over to introduce himself and offer assistance, but the Tabby panics and ushers her young charges away.

The group as a whole is a little put out by their experiences in Monthend, but a little cheer follows as a crow-like Kenku rounds the corner, shouting about happy hour at The Wayward Alchemist.  He hands the group some flyers filled with food and drink offers, and they notice a sign around his neck reading “I Repeat Your Message For One Gold A Day.”

Julius and Talion try to engage him in conversation, but all he does is repeat what they say back at them.  Realising what is going on, Talion pens a short missive, hands the Kenku a gold coin, and reads aloud:

New trade routes have opened up to Dogwood!  Come and visit the best new town in Els!

The Kenku pauses, then repeats it word for word, before offering them a chance to change the message if needed.  Most of the party members are satisfied, but one adds “Presented By Oddsock” to the message before accepting the final draft.

The Kenku waddles on, alternating between his new Dogwood message and the one for The Wayward Alchemist.

Since they are now at a loose end, and since the position of the sun as it descends behind a clock tower suggests that it is now happy hour, the party decides to check out this tavern.

The handy map on the back of the flyer leads them out of the well-heeled streets of central Monthend, and into the less salubrious (though still adequately-heeled) outskirts.

Oddsock takes a minor detour after spotting a church of Commerce on the mini-map, and after sullying their windows with magically hurled dog eggs, soiling the curtains and placing anti-capitalist propaganda runes on the steps, he skips cheerfully along to join the rest of the crew.

The Wayward Alchemist is a large, stone building, with a large, stone doorman.  Julius introduces himself, and the Golem returns the greeting, indicating the name carved into his chest:  Stopdick.  He opens the door for the party, and they enter.

The interior is bustling with customers enjoying two-for-one Jinn & Tonics, and waiting staff in very little clothing.  Kadis and Oddsock are slightly overwhelmed, but Julius takes in every detail with great clarity, from the fancy High Elf at the bar, to the stern Tiefling standing before a door at the back, next to a wide flight of stairs leading up.

As Julius heads off to introduce himself to the Tiefling - having never met one before - Talion regards the place with a lesser eye for the details, but a greater understanding.  With liquor in the front, and probably poker in the back, plus several scantily clad servers, he does the mental arithmetic and comes up with the most likely answer: brothel.  With a sly smile, he heads for the bar.

As he does, Julius engages in conversation with the Tiefling, whose name is Tabitha.  He boldly asks what she is, and she informs him that she is a bar manager, which Julius takes questionably accurate note of.  She asks if he plays cards, and, accurately judging the confusion on his little otter face, guides him gently towards the safety of the bar.

Down at the other end, Talion tries to gain the attention of a barman, but instead attracts the High Elf, who introduces himself as Herrington.  Pointing to the dragon scale on Talion’s necklace, he sidles in close and tells him that he and his friends are hunters too, and may have taken down a dragon or two themselves.

Unable to stop himself, Talion prepares to take a swing at Herrington, and is stopped at the last moment by a pressure on his elbow.  Beside and somewhat below him stands a very glamourous Halfling carrying a bottle of aged Goodberry wine on a tray.  She tugs at his arm insistently, and guides him back over to his friends, and then over to a nice quiet table at the back.

She introduces herself as Zanthia, and drops off the bottle on the table, along with four glasses.  She says that they are on the house - better than the watered down Happy Hour swill - and that she has a lot to talk to them about after her performance..

Before they can ask any questions, they are interrupted by a drunken hand across Zanthia’s buttocks.  A leering customer demands that she go and fetch him another drink - which, with a barely perceptible flash of something across her eyes, she does.

She then takes to the small stage at the far end of the bar.  Throughout the room, the candles dim, save for those that illuminate her.  Fetching up a saxophone from beside the stage, she performs a slow, haunting number - one which Talion finds strangely familiar.

The tempo has been slightly adjusted, and the key is different, but there is no mistaking it - The Ballad of Araniel: his signature composition.

Once the applause has died down, Zanthia returns to the table and invites the group to join her upstairs for a private conversation.  She knows who they all are, and needs their assistance.

The party remains silent - a silence only broken by the lecherous customer behind, as he snores face down into his drink.

[asphalt-cocktail]

For the Sake of content- Chapter 10

Chapter 10- Uncertainty and the Test of Time.

Summary: After walking in on your long-term boyfriend, Harrison, cheating on you and then losing your job the following day; your find yourself broke, jobless, and single for the first time in a long while. In order to make ends meet, your best friend since college, Freddie, suggests you start soliciting explicit photos of yourself, not only to help boost your confidence but to help pay the rent for his band mate’s apartment you just moved into.

A/N: Hi friends! I know this took me forever but honestly this chapter hit a little too close to home for me to begin to feel comfortable writing. But today I finally worked up the courage to write it and oh boy let me tell you it is SAD. But dont worry this fic will have a happy ending! Also if you can figure out the era of Roger I am transitioning too bonus points to you! Sorry it is so short, it was  difficult for me to write this emotionally and took a lot out of me. 

Pairing: Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, longing, just a lot of sad feels, (dont worry there will be a happy ending), Mentions of smut but no actual smut in this chapter, alcohol mentions, not proof read

Word Count: 1.9k

The following morning you woke up, your sinuses feeling gummy and throat dry.

Glancing at the clock you made a mental note of the time, much too late for you to still be in bed. Your stomach clenched when you heard the door open and despite want to stay in the warm cocoon of your bed you felt yourself moving on your own. The sudden urge to see Roger flooded over your body and you shuffled out the bedroom, quickly thinking of some excuse you could make to be out here with him. Fluidly you moved to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water out of the tap.

“Hey.” You said setting your cup down and watching him set his keys on the kitchen table.

He grinned up at you “Hey,” he responded back. Your gaze watched him as he moved through the house with out much of a second thought before he retreated to his room, “Hey I’m going to be gone for a few days.” His muffled voice called.

“Where are you going to be?” You called back sitting on the kitchen table. You didn’t know if your stomach hurt from being hungry or from what you knew Roger’s answer was going to be.

He came out with a backpack slung over his shoulder “Oh, I’m going to stay at Dominique’s for a little while.”

You pursed your lips and nodded your head, “Oh, well have fun.” You said flashing him a closed mouth smile.

He didn’t give you a second glance before leaving the house.

Your heart clenched, why would you be so upset over your friend leaving for a few days? Roger had his own life and you needed to respect that. Those thought played over and over in your brain for the remainder of the day and it seemed like no matter how often you thought them they never seemed to get through to you and the more you felt nauseous.

You didn’t know how many days passed until Fred had showed up pounding on your door.

You opened it and were immediately met with a grimace “You look like you haven’t left your bed in three days.” He said pushing his way past you and letting himself in to your ‘shared’ apartment.

“Well how many days has it been since Sunday?” You asked rubbing your tired and slightly swollen eyes.

“Three.” Fred said pointedly.

You plopped on the couch, “Well then you’re right.”

Your friend’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you, “What do you mean I’m right?” He said sitting next to you, “What’s got you in a funk?”

You felt his intense gaze as you averted your eyes from him, looking down at your feet and playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s nothing.” You responded before letting out deep sigh. “What brings you over?” You asked lightly slapping your hands on your thighs.

Fred gave you a weird look, his brow eyes intently taking in every bit of your body language, “I you haven’t talked to anyone since Saturday night.” He said a light frown gracing his sharp features.

You shifted awkwardly, “Wow, crazy,” you remember your phone, sitting on your nightstand and on do not disturb, “Are you sure?” you asked knowing the answer.

Fred stood up, “Get up.” He said grabbing your limp arm and tugging you reluctantly to your feet, “Go shower and then we’ll continue talking.” He said pushing you towards the bathroom not caring you had no change of clothes.

The bathroom door shut behind you and you looked in the mirror, you really did look like shit. Your skin looked dry and dark bags hung under your eyes and your hair looked dirty. You frowned and turned the water on hot, as hot as it could go, undressed and stepped in.

The hot water soaked your body and burnt your skin, yet it didn’t hurt; it felt strangely cathartic. You inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, feeling tears beginning to well in your eyes. You covered your face with your hand and a sob wrecked through you, shaking your body and causing you to lean forward.

Your shoulders shook with sobs and your tears mixed with the water, washing away the evidence of your crying. You tried your best to curb your sobs but choked them out anyways. It hurt. Knowing Roger had sex with you and dropped you the moment he saw someone better come along. Like always, you were second best.

Your brain processed what had happened in the last few months of your life. Walking in on your boyfriend Harrison, breaking up with him, moving in with Roger, becoming a cam girl, having sex with Roger a lot, sharing soft intimate moments with him, and now sitting here on the floor of your shower crying with your knees into your chest as the cold water ran out.

This was a new low moment to say the least.

A knock on the door shook you from your endless thoughts, you sniffed and rubbed your face before standing up, “What?” You called back.

“What’s taking you so long? There’s no way you still have hot water.” Fred shouted back.

He was right, you didn’t and you hadn’t even started washing yourself. You suffered through the cold water and washed your hair and body, cleaning it of the filth and emotions.

As soon as you had your towel wrapped around you Fred opened the door and tossed a bottle of his nice moisturizer at you, “You always feel better after you moisturize.” He said and shut the door one again.

He was right, your skin looked dewy and no longer crusted with sleep and sweat. You felt clean like a breath of fresh air, but your mind continued to remind you of how alone you were in this apartment. The two of you sat on your couch once again, this time you were clean and in fresh clothes.

Freddie splayed his hands on his pants, “So,” He started out, “When were you going tell me that you and Roger have been sleeping together?”

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you “What are you talking about?” You asked trying to hide your nerves.

“I saw a picture. I know what the both of you look like naked it isn’t hard to tell.”

Heat crept up the back of your neck and spread from your face to the tips of your ears and your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find your words, “Is that what this is all about?” Freddie asked maintaining his intense gaze.

You averted your gaze from his and stared hard at the floor. Fred grabbed you and forced you look at him, “Listen, [Y/N], Dominique is a manipulative witch that knows how to wrap Roger around her finger” You stared into his intense brown eyes, “She doesn’t have shit on you and never will.” He let go of your face and you didn’t move, “She sweeps in and sinks her dirty claws into Roger’ soft heart and takes advantage of him.” He picked some lint off his pants and paused before he continued, “No one likes her.” He added.

You took Freddie’s words to heart, he seemed genuine and you had already learned previously that Dom was not well liked among the boys. At the end of the week Roger returned, presumably to get a new bag of clothes.

To say you were shocked to see him was honestly an understatement. You gaped at him when he walked through the door “What the fuck happened to your hair?” You asked looking at him.

His long choppy hair was now short and wild on his head, Roger rushed past you, “Do you like it? Dominique said it looked better this way.” He said moving to his room.

You couldn’t help but follow him and lean on his doorway, “Dominique told you to cut your hair short so you did?” your voice was laced with disbelief.

Roger glanced back and you and nodded his head, “Yeah.”

You rubbed your face with your hand, “Do you know how insane that sounds? She is literally telling you how to dress, Roger.” You frowned deeply, “What happened to changing your clothes three times a day and not wearing the same pair of shoes every week, or waking up an two hours before you need to open the store to style your hair.”

Roger didn’t look back at you and continued to stuff clothes into his duffle bag, “I know, but that isn’t efficient.”

An audible scoff left your mouth, “Efficient?” You gaped at him, “Since when did you care about efficiency?”

Roger’s head whipped towards you, “Since when did you care about what I do with my life?” He said, a nasty tone dripping from his words.

You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “What is that supposed to mean?” You asked following with your arms crossed over your chest.

Roger turned on his heel and looked at you, “It is supposed to mean that you shouldn’t care about the other women in my life.”

You clenched your fists, “Roger, Dominique doesn’t care about you and by the end of next week you’ll be back here sulking in your room and bitter like you first were.”

Roger clenched his teeth, his blue eyes now ignited with fire, “Why do you care? We aren’t together and we never were. Get over it.” He hissed before slamming the door behind him.

Your stomach tightened as his words as they rammed into you like a truck. Your mind flashed back to the moments to intimate to be just sex.

Roger cupped your face as you clung to him, your body trembling as he leaned against your headboard with you on his lap. He kissed your face, your nose, eyes, and cheeks. “God, you are so fucking beautiful.” He said pressing his lips fully against yours as the two of you clung to each other.

---

You laid your head in Roger’s lap as the two of you laid across the couch while some shitty movie played in the background. You had a bowl of popcorn in your lap and threw pieces as Roger tried to catch them, every time he missed, they would lightly plop on your face. You didn’t care about the salty butter dirtying your skin. Roger awkwardly craned his head down, his long dyed hair framing the sides of your face and tickling the skin. Your nose scrunched and Roger laughed softly before kissing the tip of your nose.

---

Another night at the bar, spent dancing until it was either very early or very late. The two of you clung to each other with an arm wrapped around the other’s waist, your steps swaying and causing the two of you to stumble and laugh.

---

The first time Roger slept in your bed; you woke up to his already wild hair looking now untamable while soft snores left slightly ajar mouth. You brushed his hair back and he pulled you into his chest as he kissed your shoulder and buried his face into your back.

These moments were far too intimate to be just sex or to be just two friends. Your brain felt muddied; did he not feel the same? Did he still think of this as a business arrangement?

You felt dizzy from all of the questions that flooded your brain and soon began to feel helpless.

If Freddie was right, Roger would be back within the next week saying ‘you were right [y/n]’

But until then, your feelings could only stand against the test of time and uncertainty.

[freddiesaysalright]

Just Like a Woman - Part 9

A Roger Taylor x Reader Story

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce.

Word Count: 3.4k

Tag List:  @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @moon-stars-soul​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @ixchel-9275​, @jennyggggrrr​, @zyanmaik​, @mypassionfortrash​, @a19103​, @madeinheavxn​, @beepbeephardy​, @rrogerchxrm​, @qweenly, @blisshemmings​, @seasidecrowbar​, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone​, @takemetoneverland420​, @coffeexcigarette​, @lookuptotheskiesandsee​, @thatpunkmaximoff​, @angelkissys​, @rocknroll-stolemyass​, @simonedk​, @anotheronebitesrogertaylor​, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit​, @joseph-mozzerella​, @theprettyandthereckless​, @flick-ofthe-wrist​, @johndeaconshands​, @rogerandhiscar​, @queenmaracasandlove​, @sunflower-ben​, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99​, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace​, @itsabenthing​, @bookandband​, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife​, @grazessa​, @borhapqueen92​, @theonsasheart​, @vektorivittu​, @chanti-frn, @brianssixpence​, @dancingcoolcat​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: It’s time for some courtroom actions, baby!!

Warning(s): Descriptions of assault

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8

Part 9 here we go!!!

Weeks passed. Nick was pleading self defense and refused to negotiate, so it was going to trial. In front of a jury. Dominique was struggling with having to relive the events of that night over and over again. You, Roger, and Bill were trying to keep her spirits up in the conference room before the trial was set to begin.

“Just one more time, Dom,” Roger told her.

She looked at him with watery eyes. “I’m telling you I can’t do this anymore.”

“We can get him, though, if you just power through,” Bill added. “We’ve got your testimony, photographs of your injuries, and then the witness who found you. Our case is solid. And you’ve said yourself you don’t want this to happen to anyone else.”

“I know, but…” she trailed off.

“What is it, Dom?” you asked gently. “Speak your mind.”

“It’s not helping me recover,” she said quietly. “Maybe that’s selfish, but every time I have to tell another room full of people what happened to me, I feel again all this...shame and guilt. And don’t tell me it’s not my fault, Roger, I know it isn’t, I just…”

He closed his mouth.

“We understand,” you told her. “But we’re all here for you, okay? I know you can do this. But if you’re not feeling up to it anymore, we’ll support that too.”

She paused, looking at the ground. “I’m tired.”

“You can’t give up now,” Roger said. “We’re so close.”

She sighed, refusing to meet his gaze. When she blinked, a tear rolled down her cheek.

“Dom, we’re going to support you no matter what you decide,” you said. “But Roger is right, it’ll be only one last time. And we can put that man away.”

“You said you want to get him,” Bill said. “So let’s get him.”

She sighed. “I...yes. I still want that.”

He knelt in front of her and took her hand. 

“Like Y/N said, we’re with you,” he said. “We’ll all be standing right beside you and in front.”

You and Roger exchanged a surprised look at Bill’s uncharacteristic tenderness.

She smiled at last. “Thank you.”

“Alright, let’s prepare for this trial,” he said, grinning back.

“One thing,” you interjected. “Tim sent over the final copy of the divorce settlement. I got a call from the judge that it needs to be finalized before the trial begins.”

“We can sign it now?” Roger wondered.

“Yeah,” you said. “Remarkably, Tim was comfortable with you both signing with just me and Bill as witnesses.”

You put the papers down on the table. Bill handed Dominique a pen. She signed and slid it over to Roger. He picked up the pen and stared at the papers for a moment. For a feeling second, you feared he would refuse to sign it. If he didn’t, what did that say about where he stood with you? But then, after he glanced at Dom, he swiftly scrawled his signature across the line and dated it.

Just like that, their marriage was over.

“Could we have a moment, please?” Roger asked.

“Sure,” you replied.

You took Bill’s arm and led him out of the conference room. Roger looked at Dominique.

“Just because we’ve signed these papers doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you,” he said. “And how this trial will go.”

“I know, Rog,” she returned. “I still care about you too. And I appreciate your support more than you know.”

“I still love you,” he said. “Just….not…”

“You don’t have to say it,” she told him. “I understand, alright? We’re all friends here. I’m not angry at you - at least, not anymore,” she finished with a chuckle. “I think all this has shown me what really matters.”

A beat passed.

“I love you too, you know,” she said. 

He smiled. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me,” she teased.

“I’m not, Dom,” he said. “You’re...impressive. And I’m sorry I couldn’t -”

“Let’s not go there,” she interrupted. “Let’s leave it at loving each other. Alright?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, alright.”

With that, he waved you and Bill back in. You picked up the paper.

“Alright, I’ll give this to Jane to process,” you said. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re perfect,” Dominique said. “But I’m starving. Is it alright if I go get some lunch before we prep for trial?”

“Sure,” Bill said. “I’ll go with you. I know a great Italian place just around the corner from here.”

She smiled and you were certain you saw her blush. “Well, alright, then.”

They left together, Bill placing a gentle hand on the small of Dominique’s back as they walked to the elevator.

“Wow,” Roger joked. “Our marriage isn’t even cold yet, and he’s making a move.”

“I don’t think this is normal Bill, though,” you said. “I think he likes her.”

“Well, if he likes her, I’m alright with it, but if he’s just trying to get a shag in, I’m not,” he said.

“Relax, Roger,” you said. “If that’s what he wanted, he’d be more obvious about it.”

“Well, while they’re gone, you wanna start the trial prep?” he asked.

“We need Dom for that,” you said.

“Well, we can do my part,” he argued.

Your brow furrowed. “Roger, are you under the impression that you’re going to be called as a witness?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he demanded. “She’s my wife, isn’t she?”

“Ex-wife,” you reminded him. “But you’re not a witness to the crime. You’re just a concerned loved one. I’m sorry, but you’re not relevant to the case.”

“Like hell, I’m not,” he protested. 

“Roger, think for a moment,” you insisted. “You didn’t see the crime take place, you didn’t come across her body, and you’ve had no interaction with the defendant. What exactly would your testimony do besides look like an emotional manipulation of the jury?”

“Maybe that could help,” he said.

“No, we’re sticking to the facts,” you asserted. “The facts are the strength of this case, and if we stray from that we only give the defense weapons to use against us.”

He huffed irritably and sat down in a chair.

You opened your mouth to scold him for pouting, but at that moment there was a knock on the door. A man stood there - tall and handsome in a Ken doll sort of way, with a swaggering stance that made you already hate him.

“Can I help you?” you asked, sharper than you meant to sound.

“I’m Glen Harrington,” he said. “I’m the new attorney for Nick Sully. I’ve come to speak with Dominique Beyrand.”

“She’s represented by counsel, you can’t speak to her,” you replied.

“You’re sharp,” he said, looking you over. “Love that in a woman.”

Roger jumped up from his chair. “Watch it.”

Glen ignored him.

“Anyway,” Glen continued. “I only wanted to have a chat. We’re not in court -”

“I don’t care if we’re in your fucking hot tub, you can’t speak to her,” you snapped.

“Are you her lawyer?” he wondered. “God, I’d love to see what the two of you would do alone in a room together.”

You scowled at him.

“I’m the second chair,” you said. “She’s with the first chair lawyer now. And she won’t be speaking with you.”

“Well, maybe you and I could have a conversation,” he suggested, winking at you. “Although, usually with me, you’ll just end up saying my name.”

Roger could stand it no longer. He put himself between you and Glen and pushed the latter back a step.

“Watch. It.” Roger warned.

“Who’s this, your boyfriend?” Glen questioned, laughter behind his eyes.

“He is,” you answered. “And I believe he told you to watch it, pig.”

“You can’t win ‘em all,” he sighed, and then stepped further away from Roger. “I’ll see you in court tomorrow...I didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you practically spat at him.

“Well, Y/N, I’ll see you in court,” he said.

“Oink,” you retorted.

He smirked, turned on his heel, and left. Roger rounded on you.

“How do you put up with that?” he cried.

You shrugged. “This industry has been a boy’s club as long as I’ve been in it. I’m not afraid of some crass remarks.”

“But that was ridiculous!”

“He’s just trying to intimidate me,” you explained. “I’ll admit, that was a bit more than I’ve seen before, but I can handle myself.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna be in that courtroom every day,” he said.

You chuckled. “You were going to do that anyway.”

“True, but now it’s different,” he said. “He came on to you.”

“And I will feel securely protected knowing you’re there,” you joked.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N, I’m serious,” he said. “I don’t like the way he spoke to you.”

You softened, seeing the earnest need in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Roger,” you said. “I really do appreciate you defending me. I guess I make a joke out of it so that it really can’t frighten me.”

He pulled you into his arms. You settled into him. The pressure of everything was hitting you. The trial, this new ass of a lawyer, your concern for Dominique going forward...it felt like too much. But with Roger’s arms around you, it felt lighter. You knew you could walk into that courtroom with confidence.

Bill did the opening statement. Your stomach squirmed with anticipation. There was a lot at stake here and you didn’t want to mess it up. Then, Glen stood up and made his opening statement as well. Bill sat down and gave Dominique’s hand a squeeze. She returned with a grateful smile. When Glen had returned to his seat, the judge, Seymore Walsh, looked at Bill.

“You may begin,” he said.

Bill stood up. “The prosecution would first like to call Ms. Dominique Beyrand to the stand.”

Dominique stood up from her seat at the table. She took a deep breath and then, with her head high and shoulders back, she walked up to the witness stand. She took her oath, and you saw her hand just barely trembling as she did, and then sat down. Bill came out from his place behind the table.

“Ms. Beyrand, take us through what happened the night you went on a date with Mr. Sully here,” he said, indicating Nick.

“Well, Nick and I met at a bar a few days before,” she began. “We flirted and he asked for my number, which I gave him. He called the next day and we arranged to meet that Saturday.”

“What happened when you met up again?” Bill pressed.

“At first, things were great,” she said. “We were chatting, flirting just like before. But it started to get late and I was ready to head home. He offered me a ride. I agreed, thinking it was awfully generous of him. Only...it wasn’t.”

“What happened in the car?” he asked gently.

“He kissed me,” she said. “I didn’t pull away at first because I don’t mind a kiss or two. Only things started to heat up, so I tried to push him away. He said that I wasn’t being fair. He’d bought me drinks and I’d flirted all night, so it wasn’t right for me to turn him down. Then, he grabbed my breast.”

She paused a moment and gathered herself.

“When he did that, I pushed him off,” she said. “So, he slapped me. I slapped him back. He punched me in the eye. We started fighting. He was still grabbing at me and hitting me. He got me by the throat once. I felt like I was going to pass out. But I broke free, and tried to get out of the car. That was when he slammed my head against the door. It’s all sort of fuzzy, but after that, I don’t remember anything.”

“So, let me see if I’m hearing you correctly,” he said. “He asks you on a date, pays for the drinks like a gentleman, he even offers you a ride home - only to sexually assault you in the car?”

“Yes,” Dominique said. “That is my testimony.” 

“For clarification, when he attempted his sexual advance, did you use the words ‘no’ or ‘stop’?” Bill asked.

“I did,” she said. “More than once. When he was hitting me, I was begging him to stop.”

“Are you certain he heard you?” he asked.

“Yes,” she went on. “Because he kept telling me to shut up.”

“I see,” he said. “Well, thank you for your testimony, I have no further questions.”

Glen got to his feet. He cleared his throat as he approached Dominique. She looked nervously at him.

“Ms. Beyrand, it is your testimony that you were attracted to my client, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I was attracted to him before he beat me within an inch of my life.”

You stole a look at Roger and beamed. You saw the pride in his face as well.

Glen ignored it. “Is it also your testimony that my client bought your drinks the night you went out?”

“It is,” she replied. “But that does not entitle him to -”

“I’m not saying it does,” he interrupted. “But we all know the implications. Society has taught us that drinks and flirting is usually a lead up to...something more.”

He took that moment to turn and wink at you. 

“Objection!” you cried, jumping to your feet.

Judge Walsh looked at you with disbelief. “Ms. Y/L/N, what exactly are you objecting to?”

“He - well - he winked at me and I didn’t like it,” you said, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“The objection is overruled,” he said. “But, Mr. Harrington, do not wink again at opposing counsel. Focus on your witness.”

“Of course, your honor,” Glen said. “Now, Ms. Beyrand, you also testified that you struck my client, yes?”

“Yes,” she said. “Only because he struck me first.”

“When you claim my client was assaulting you, why did you not continue to strike back?”

“I tried,” she said. “But after that punch, I was a bit dazed. Not to mention your client is a professional kickboxer, so he had the upper hand.”

“This is shit,” Roger hissed to you. “He’s just asking her to repeat herself.”

“He wants her to say it differently than before so he can twist it,” you whispered back. “Don’t worry, she’s doing great.”

Fortunately, Glen was unable to get Dominique to change even one part of her testimony. Her wording was clear and consistent, the same as when Bill was questioning her. Finally, Glen gave up, and Dominique was allowed to return to her seat. Roger put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She smiled shakily at him.

Now, it was your turn. You stood up.

“Your honor, the prosecution calls Miss Lucy Thomas to the stand,” you said.

Miss Thomas strutted up to the witness stand, took her oath - though not without rolling her eyes - and then sat down. You approached.

“Miss Thomas, tell us what happened on the night you found Ms. Beyrand,” you told her.

“I was out for my nightly jog through my neighborhood,” she began. “On my usual path, I saw a person lying in the grass. At first I thought it was one of those drunk hobos again, but she was awfully still. I got closer and realized it was a woman.”

“Can you identify that woman?” you requested.

She extended her hand, pointer finger out, toward Dominique. 

“That one,” she said, and then promptly returned her hand to her lap. “Although you’d hardly recognize her with her face all bruised and blood everywhere. It was disgusting.”

“What did you think when you saw her condition?” you asked.

“I honestly thought she was dead,” she answered with a shrug. “But then I saw that she was breathing. So I went to the nearest payphone and called the police.”

“What did it appear had happened to her?” you asked.

“Objection!” Glen interrupted. “Your honor, Miss Thomas is not a medical professional, therefore her speculations about what happened to Ms. Beyrand are guesses that should not be admissible as evidence.”

 “Sustained,” Judge Walsh said, and then looked at you. “Counsel, keep your questions strictly what the witness can actually attest to.”

“Sure,” you agreed, then returned to Miss Thomas. “Were you able to make contact with Mrs. Beyrand?”

“I tried, but she was out cold,” she said. “Like I said, I thought she was dead. It’s a miracle she’s alive right now.”

“Thank you,” you said. You faced Glen. “Your witness.”

You returned to your seat as Glen got up, buttoning his blazer. He sauntered over to the witness stand. Miss Thomas looked at him like a jungle cat about to pounce.

“Miss Thomas, you say you were out jogging when you found Ms. Beyrand, right?” he began.

She glowered at him.

“Objection!” she cried, and then looked at Judge Walsh. “Your honor, I’m bored. If this lawyer is going to be so unattractive he could at least be interesting.”

Glen blinked and stepped back. “Excuse me?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. The judge just looked at her, stunned.

“Miss Thomas, you are a witness,” he reminded her sharply. “You do not make objections, only attorneys may do that.”

“I’m sorry - unattractive?” Glen interjected.

“Yes,” Miss Thomas snapped. “I’m penile psychic, and you’re not getting laid nearly as much as you’d like people to think. Maybe it’s the odd shape of your nose or that your hands are freakishly small that makes you so repulsive to women. But it could also be that you’re just an asshole.”

You heard Roger snicker behind you and you shushed him as subtly as you could.

“You don’t even know me!” he argued.

“I don’t really have to,” she returned coolly.

He sputtered a moment before the judge intervened.

“Miss Thomas, that’s enough,” he scolded. “Answer his question and from here on, refrain from commenting on his sex appeal.”

“Well, then let me just say that he has a tiny -”

“No!” you and Glen both cried. You with desperation and him with offense.

A pregnant pause hung in the room. Roger was biting down on his lip so hard he almost broke the skin. Dominique tried to give him a harsh look, but a smile was on her lips as well.

Glen cleared his throat. “The question, Miss Thomas, was -”

“I remember what it was,” she cut across him. “The answer is yes. I was jogging. Like I’ve already said.”

“It was autumn and quite late at night,” he said. “Why were you jogging at that time?”

“There’s fewer people out so I feel safer,” she replied. “Plus, I like the cold. It reminds me to be myself.”

“You feel safer jogging alone at night?” he questioned.

“Yes,” she said. “Little did I know there were psychos like your client out there, I’ll have to start carrying pepper spray.”

“Objection!” Glen groaned, looking at the judge.

“Miss Thomas,” Judge Walsh warned. “Please remember your answers should pertain only to the question asked.”

“Fine,” she sighed, rolling her eyes again.

“Now, Miss Thomas, did you see anyone else by the time you came across Mrs. Beyrand?” Glen asked.

“No, she was alone,” she said. “Bleeding from her head and face. Barely alive. She was alone.”

She shot a meaningful look toward the jury. Glen swallowed.

“No further questions,” he said, and returned to his seat.

Judge Walsh released Miss Thomas. After that, Bill called Officer Colmes. He explained the blood on the dress. You examined one of the medics who took Dominique to the hospital, and he affirmed that Dominique appeared to have been beaten by someone. Your final witness was the doctor, who confirmed the source of Dominique’s injuries, and was able to point them out on the photographs taken just after she was brought in. You saw the jury wince at the first picture. The doctor also testified that the blood type found on Dominique’s dress - aside from her own - matched Nick Sully’s. As did the hair. All the evidence was pointing to Nick and you were feeling confident.

Before you would break, the defense would get to call a witness. Glen looked at you with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Your honor, the defense calls Mr. Roger Taylor to the stand.”

[pedros-mustache-main]

Hello !!! I have a blurb request May I request reader x brain may? Reader has a major anxiety attack over something and Brian tries to calm them down. They end up passing out in his arms (partly from being exhausted, partly from hyperventalating). Their skin is clammy and pale. Their pulse is fast. Brian checks their breathing/pulse. peridiocally and puts them to bed. When they wake up, he comforts them. Fluffy ending please. Thankyousomuch !!! 🥺🥺🥺

how did you know i think about this at least once a week?! also, i put it under the cut cause this got ~very lengthy~ it’s literally the length of a small fic. i never claimed to be good at succinctness.

it was the crowd. at least, that’s what you blame it on when you wake up.

the show’s over, largely successful expect for the moment roger tossed his drumstick too high and couldn’t find his replacement. (he ended up drumming with his hand until crystal brought him another.) you’re tired, brian’s tired; it’s been a long weekend, and all you want to go is go home, curl up with a cup of tea, and fall asleep to the sound of your husband reading from one of his scientific journals that makes your eyes cross with confusion.

it starts—the familiar tightness in your chest, wrenching stomach, sweaty palms—as you follow him to the side-door of the venue. there’s normally a small collection of people waiting outside, pushed back by security, and you’ve gotten used to hiding your face from the cameras and waiting in the shadows for him to sign autographs and talk to fans. tonight, though, the crowd is different. you can hear them chanting before the door even opens, and when the door does open, the crowd is larger, rowdier, somehow more frenzied than you thought possible. it makes you nervous, but not nervous enough to say anything. it’s only for a moment; you can handle that much.

brian stiffens slightly when you step out of the venue and the night turns bright with the flash of cameras, the air filling with sounds of people calling his name, scrabbling for a sliver of attention. he looks over his shoulder, whispers, “i’ll just be a minute” before crossing to the steel gates holding the crowd back. you hesitate on the sidelines, mumbling in conversation with dominique while she, too, waits for her husband. 

when he’s finished signing and smiling and sweet-talking, brian turns away from the crowd and winds his arm around your waist. he draws you toward the back parking lot, his thumb working a soothing pattern over the bottom of your ribs.

but then one of the gates breaks loose. 

the crowd surges forward, hot on the heels of the band and, by mere proximity, the band’s entourage. 

“oh fuck!” it’s dominique who scrambles to the side first, out of the way of the onslaught of bodies. perhaps on instinct, she grabs your wrist and pulls you roughly against her side as the crowd engulfs you from all angles. 

the cameras are hot, the voices loud, and the crush of people breaks you out in a cold sweat. you squeeze dom’s fingers hard, turning your face away from the camera which sticks over your shoulder, trying desperately to find a good angle of the boys. you can barely see brian—just the outline of his head over the crowd—and he seems to be drifting further and further away as the mob undulates and grows.

“we gotta get out of here,” dom says, her voice as breathy as you feel.

you nod and swallow past your dry throat. “maybe... maybe if we just push our way through?”

“worth a shot. hold tight to me.” she lowers her head, her hand around your wrist like a vice, and starts shouldering her way through the lines of people. 

the majority of fans ignore you in their fervor to get closer, but a handful don’t appreciate the way you push them back in an attempt to break through to the other side of the mob. a few hurl choice words—bitch, slag, cow—in your direction; some merely growl and shoot dark looks. one woman, closer to the age of your mother than any of the lads, elbows you in the back as you retreat, and it knocks the wind out of you. you stumble forward, falling before you can stop yourself.

asphalt digs against the palms of your hands. it bites your flesh, sharp pinpricks of pain. darkness—darkness from the night, from the bodies squeezing in around your head—edges closer, threatening to swallow you whole. you suck in a deep breath, but it doesn’t reach your lungs. tears blur your vision.

oh my god, i’m gonna die.

the thought crosses your mind, and you hold tight because, truly, if the crowd pushes back, if they push forward, if they push to the side, if they move at all, you will be crushed, flattened like a bug to the pavement. 

clutching a hand to your sternum, you gulp for air. you want to cry, to scream, to make some sort of noise and let people know that you are here, on the ground, powerless to stand up. but your throat is too tight. the air passing through your mouth is thin, worthless. you’re going to pass out. you know this feeling, have felt it before. 

an overwhelming surge of embarrassment flows over you. to be trampled by a crowd of queen fans—what a way to go. your mother will surely be proud of the way your life turned out. 

you choke on a sob, still caught against the ground, now flattened, your shoulder digging into the pavement. faintly, you hear dom screaming your name, and you feel utterly ridiculous.

you wonder, briefly, before the world fades to black, your eyes rolling back in your head, if you remembered to turn the kettle off before leaving home. brian will be cross if not; he doesn’t like to waste the energy.

with the thought in mind, you succumb to the encroaching darkness and slump against the ground.

brian knows there’s something wrong before he hears dominique over the din of the crowd.

of course, it’s clear there’s something wrong. he’s surrounded on all sides by rabid fans, their arms frantically vying for his attention and approval, camera flashes like staccato notes before his eyes. 

fred stands to his left, still the picture of professionalism despite the fine line of frustration etched in his forehead. there’s too many cameras, too many people. no matter how close brian knows fred is to hitting the roof, he would never; not so publicly, at least. roger and john are elsewhere, a few paces off, also swarmed, also fighting the mounting anger. it’s written on their faces. brian’s sure he looks none-too-pleased as well.

where in the bloody hell is security?

more importantly, brian wonders. where the hell is my wife?

he’d lost you early in the fray, ripped apart by dominique’s quick thinking and even quicker feet. but he’d thought by now he’d at least have been able to grab a glimpse of you. if not by the safety of one of the trailers, then among the horde. he can’t find you, though, despite using his height as an advantage in the search.

but he finds dom, and the sheer panic on her face, her doe eyes wide and fearful, is enough to tell him that something isn’t right. he pauses, the pen in his hand stilling on the pad of paper. dom’s speaking to no one in particular, to anyone who will listen, but he can’t make out her words over the sounds clattering around him. he concentrates, focusing on her mouth, until he can make out the words fell down and it’s all he needs to know.

he drops the pen and paper and wades into the thick of the crowd, using his forearms and height to part the sea of bodies. and maybe it’s his forceful movements, maybe it’s the anger casting shadows on his face, or maybe it’s nerves, but people move out of the way easily, without comment. he doesn’t need to say anything; they just move. 

a hush falls over the crowd in a wave, passed along like a game of telephone. something is wrong, and brian isn’t happy is the message, and even those furthest away from the eye of the storm seem to get it.

dominique wrestles her way to brian’s side, face red and blotchy in panic. she breathes hard, gasping for air as she speaks. “i lost her,” she wheezes. “we got separated, but i saw her fall.”

“where?” his question comes as more of a command, but he can’t help it. he’s rarely angry, but tonight he’s royally pissed off. his hands clench to fists at his sides, his jaw set firm.

“i don’t know. i don’t know!” at this, dominique begins to cry. she presses her hand to her mouth, shaking her head back and forth in distress.

brian reaches out to steady her shoulder, opens his mouth to comfort, but before he can, a different, unfamiliar mouth fills the space.

“hey! can we have help over here? there’s a woman passed out!”

brian drops his hand like its touched hot metal and sidesteps those in his path, quick to maneuver his way to the huddle of people around a prone form on the ground. it’s your form, her realizes, the form he knows better than his own, has memorized with his fingertips and traced a thousand times over. his gut clenches, and he mutters “that’s my wife. out of the way” as he bends to pick you up. your head lolls against his shoulder, eyelashes fanned against your cheekbones.

carrying you as he does toward the stage door, he’s reminded of your wedding night: the way he carried you over the threshold in much the same fashion, snug against his chest, though you’d been conscious and giggling and pink with blush. tonight, you feel frail in his arms. your skin is clammy to the touch, breathing shallow.

someone holds the backstage door open, and he ducks into the cool hallway of the concert venue. shuffling through the hall, he makes his way to one of the dressing rooms and ever so gently lays you on the couch. the room is dim, partially stripped of the queen paraphernalia from moments ago. footsteps, hurried and hard, thump in the hallway. roger sticks his head in the doorway a moment later, dominique close behind.

“is she okay?” roger asks.

brian doesn’t tear his eyes away from your face, from the fluttering behind your eyelids and the uneasy rise and fall of your chest. “get me a damp wash cloth, please?”

roger nods. “be right back.”

you wake to the sound of a foot tapping against the linoleum floor. you don’t remember much about the evening. just the concert and then leaving and then the crowd—oh, you’d fallen, hadn’t you? maybe that’s why your head throbs and your shoulder aches.

you blink slowly, groaning as light from the ceiling aggravates your headache. you press the heel of your hand against your forehead. there’s something damp against your skin. a cloth perhaps? 

the couch dips as someone places their weight beside your legs. “[y/n]?” the voice is soft, melodic, a song you know well. “can you hear me?”

“brian?” when your eyes open completely and you see the strained face of your husband hovering over you, you try to push to your hands, to sit straight on the couch, but he gently holds you firm by the shoulders.

“no, no. just lay there for a minute. don’t move too fast.”

“what happened?” you twist, glancing about the room. your gaze runs over freddie and john and roger and dominique and crystal and ratty and gerry all smooshed together, shoulders touching, knees knocking, as they stare on at you in anticipation of your next move.

“some fucktard let the—” roger starts. dominique shushes him with a hand on his thigh.

“you fell,” brian says. he lifts a hand, brushes the hair away from your face. “got pinned down.”

“oh.” you frown as you try to remember, but the memory is too hazy. all you remember is the descent and nothing more. the rest is blank. “that doesn’t sound like fun.”

brian cracks a grin. “no, it doesn’t.”

you twist your hand around his fingers and smile, though the movement needles at your headache. “did you come save me?”

he shrugs. “not really.”

“that’s a lie!” freddie pipes up. “he carried you in here like fucking prince charming. i almost swooned.”

you chuckle then wince at a sharp pain in your ribs. “my knight in shining armor.”

he colors, dipping his head against the rise of blush in his cheeks. “hardly.”

your fingers run across his knuckles then pull him down by the wrist, crushing your arms around his back. you hold tight and whisper, “thank you, prince charming.”

you can feel his smile against the curve of your neck and his mouth against your skin as he says, “anything for you, princess.”

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

You were part of SWAT, mainly partnered with Luca. Hondo always sent you two together. You were fond of the big blonde, often hanging out after work. When he comes into the squad room with a duffel bag.

“I need a room.” His blue eyes were tired, you could tell, but he still grinned.

“A room? Like a night?” You ask, eyeing him.

“I mean, yeah, a night or two.” He chuckles, heading to the lockers to change and get ready. You headed in and grabbed your uniform shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it.

“Well I mean, you can stay with me for a few days if you want. If you don’t mind dogs, of course. Achilles is pretty chill.” You smile, pulling on your work boots before disappearing.

The end of the day comes soon enough, Luca hopping on his bike, driving to your place. You invited him in, offering him your spare bedroom. The futon with a new mattress was enough for him, a smile on his face.

“I’m gonna start dinner, you got a preference?” You ask as you head into the kitchen.

“Nah, it’s cool. Thanks again for letting me stay.” He smiles as he sits at your island, taking the sharp knife from you and slicing the items for the salad. You went to work on the chicken, searing it on the dry frying pan. Luca chuckles, grabbing the pan from you. “Here, let me help you. First, turn this down, too high burns the outside, dries out the chicken. Second, pour a tiny little bit of water into the pan, keep the chicken moist.” He gives her her very own cooking show.

“Tell you what Luca, you cook. I’ll do the dishes. Show you a thing or two about scrubbing pans.” You smile, letting him take over and you head to the living room to turn on your stereo. Plugging in your iPod you play some R&B, Baby Bash’s ‘Cyclone’ comes on and you start to swing your hips a slow circle. Twisting your body in a circle as you grab the blanket off the couch and toss it to the chair. Luca watches with a smile as he watches your tantalizing hips as they swing in slow sensual circles, moving like an experienced dancer.

“Hey! Dinner’s done!” He calls as he makes your plate with chicken breast, golden brown, a baked potato, and a little salad, complete with silverware and ranch.

“Thanks. Hey! You okay after that fall today?” You ask, waving him to the couch.

“Yeah, I’m good. Tan was quick to make sure I didn’t sprain anything.” He smiles, taking a bite before landing on the couch next to you as you jam and eat. He’d been there multiple times and you fell in a comfortable silence, Luca disappearing only to reappear with a couple beers.

“My hero.” You gasp, clasping your heart and taking a big drink from the cold bottle. He chuckles, his arm resting against yours, sharing just enough heat to be comforting.

“Hey, thanks again. I know I can be a bit much for most people.” Luca murmurs, catching you off guard.

“What?” You ask, sitting the beer on the table with your empty plates.

“I’m a bit much. Too loud, too annoying, too much. Thanks for letting me stay.” He smiles before taking another drink.

“Dominique Luca, we’ve worked together enough that I’m used to you. Whoever said those things about you, I’ll cut ‘em.” You growl. He chuckles at your response. You supposed you and Luca were pretty close friends. He often hung out after work, and you knew just what to say to make him smile.

“Easy there, John Wick.” He laughs, slinging an arm lazily around your shoulder in a gentle, friendly hug. His arm was so warm and his presence was so comforting, so badly drawing you to him. You wanted to curl up against him and kiss his sweet pink lips. Shaking your head, you clear your throat and taking a drink from your beer.

“I’m serious, Luca. You’re a lot, sure. But I wouldn’t want to share this little apartment with anyone else on that team.” You smile, patting his knee as you take a sip from your beer.

Two months in, Luca was still sleeping in your spare room. You got pretty used to him living with you. Skipping into the house, you grab his doorknob, hearing a small whimper and then a loading thumping.

‘Oh shit!’ She mouths, backing away from the door. Jealousy struck her hard, thinking about how just yesterday they spent the whole day in each other’s arms laughing and surfing. He’d been teaching you how to board so you could join him at five in morning. Heading into your room and changing into a pair of denim shorts and a cropped tee shirt, you stuff your feet into converse and head out the door. Your feet carry you to a bar on Seventh, ordering a strong rum and coke. You pull out your phone, swiping through the pictures of you and Luca having fun doing various activities.

“Hey! What are you doing here? Isn’t it like, official Luca and Riggs hang out time?” Street crows as he walks up, sitting on the vacant stool next to you. You’d finished your third shot of whiskey by now, feeling warm and heartbroken over someone who didn’t even know how you felt.

“He’s currently banging some chick in my spare bedroom.” You spill, taking another shot.

“Oh shoot, I’m sorry. He ditch you or something?” He asks, ordering a coke.

“No. I shouldn’t even care. But I do, man. I care a lot. He’s always been so sweet to me. And since he was teaching me to surf, I thought that meant-“

“That he likes you. Shit Riggs. I’m sorry. I could talk to him?” He offers, pulling out his phone. You were pretty drunk when you stood up, wobbling back and forth, grabbing Street’s leg as support. “Hey, let me drive you home.” He assures, helping you to his car and putting you gently in the passenger seat, buckling you in. “Hey Luca! You busy?” He asks into the speaker of his cell as he pulled up to your apartment building.

“Nah, why? What’s up?”

“Riggs is toast. She’s in my passenger seat right now. Wondered if you could carry her up the stairs.” He murmurs, letting you groan and grab his arm, cuddling against him.

“Yeah, shit. I’ll be down in a minute.” He appears at the door, worry in his furrowed brows. He pops open the door, scooping you so carefully from the car’s seat and carrying you up the stairs. Getting you through the door, he carefully puts you in your bed, pulling off your sneakers and covers you up.

In the morning, you were up and out the door by five thirty in the morning. Your smoothie in your hand, you were taking a drink when Luca came strolling up with a big grin.

“Man, you had a good night last night, huh?” He asks, nudging you with his elbow so playfully. You were a little confused but you shrugged. You weren’t in the mood for his Luca antics this morning. You had a hangover and crap ass attitude. He put on the boxing pads, getting into the ring. You took it entirely too serious. Your fists hit back and forth, volleying between his at hand over hand. You switched to left, left, right, then the opposite. You were so mad at him, you almost hit him in the face. You stopped, glove inches from his face, his blue eyes wide pools of fear.

Yanking off the gloves, you jump down from the ring. Your eyes meet Street’s and you two had a conversation with your eyes.

“What the hell happened?” Luca asks, eyes flicking between her and Street. Her eyes pleaded with the younger boy.

“Just mad that I got so drunk last night. Did you see that listing for the apartment at the adjacent building to ours?” You ask, pulling a folded paper from your duffel and stabbing it into the big blonde’s hand. He looked a little hurt. You disappear, changing your clothes into work shirt and pants.

“Hey, you want me to move out?” He asks as he steps into the room after her.

“Christ, Luca. I’m not talking about this here.” She growls, jamming her shirt into her pants and tightening her belt.

“Well, I guess I’m confused. I thought we were cool living together. I mean, we split everything. Isn’t it cheaper for you?” He asks.

“Yeah, sure. But you can’t put a price on privacy.” She hisses, eyes dark circles of anger. He was confused, had he done something wrong?

“Alright, sorry. I’ll be out by tonight.” He assures, turning pale and disappearing.

Luca saw Street and jogged to catch up with him.

“Hey! Can I ask you something?” He inquires as he takes a deep breath.

“What’s up?”

“Did she say anything at the bar last night? She’s so mad at me, and I can’t figure out why.” His fingers absently twiddled nervously.

“Mentioned something about a girl.” Street shrugs, kicking himself. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Oh. Shoot. She wasn’t supposed to be home until like seven. I figured we had time—oh my god. She likes me” He mutters, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I mean come on. She’s letting you teach her how to surf. The girl afraid of deep water.” Street chuckles.

“How’d you know about that?” He asks, narrowing his eyes on the young man.

“She mentioned it. At the bar.” He whispers, shoving the door open and a heading to squad brief.

At the end of the day, you head home without a word to Luca. When he got there, he found you slamming around the kitchen, making something to eat. With a soft chuckle, he carefully approached and grabs your hands. With a dark look up at him, you yank them away.

“Did you see the place on Tenth? Right by that beach you love so much?” You bite, shoving another listing across the island at him. He found it rather irritating.

“What’s your problem?” He asks, eyes begging you to tell him what he’d done. With a heavy sigh, he shrugs. “See? I always do this.” He mutters, heading towards his room.

“Luca, you’re fine.” You whisper, itching your shoulder before stalking to the living room. You started to pace the carpeted floor, making Luca dizzy.

“What’s wrong then?” He asks, softly.

“Nothing. It’s stupid.” You shove a hand in the air and roll your eyes.

“Riggs-“

“I think I like you. I mean, for Christ’s sake look at you.” You wave a defeated arm at his figure. He glanced down at himself, moving his arms from crossed over his chest. He found what he always found, a wide, broad chest, a white tank top, basketball shorts. He looks back to you half-confused.

“What does that even mean?” He asks, stepping a couple steps closer to you.

“What? Luca. You’re gorgeous. Holy shit. Something in my soul is always hunting for you. When we’re at work, I always look to make sure you’re in the room. When we’re here we spend every waking minute together. When I’m not with you, I want to be with you. When I’m with you, I can’t get enough of you. Those pretty blue eyes, Luca. They kill me. You kill me. I’d do anything for you. I’m sorry, I was just so jealous when I —“ He took a deep breath, grabbing his jacket and heading out the door. He needed to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. You, his closest friend as of late, the person he held most nightmares away from, had actually fallen totally in love with him. “Luca-“ He shuts the door, heading down to his bike and flying to the beach. The water lapped at his feet as he walked through the water, thinking about you. The way he loved when you fell asleep curled under his arm. He loved the way you smiled at him from across the squad room. He craved keeping you safe, your safety his number one concern. He found it comforting the way you played house so well together, you doing dishes and him cooking. As he took a step forward, he almost fell.

“Christ, I’m in love with her. Holy shit!” He runs to his bike, hopping on and zooming away to the apartment. As he tumbled through the door, he found your apartment missing you. He searched high and low, but to no avail. He groaned. You probably thought he didn’t reciprocate the feelings. You were probably crying somewhere. He felt his heart pound slow and heavy. He got to the squad gym to find you slamming relentless punches into the punching bag. He cringed, knowing you were probably imagining him. He crept up, careful not to scare you, and found your face bright red and puffy, cheeks wet with tears.

“Go home, Luca.” She whimpers, pushing at his chest, trying to get away from him.

“No. Listen to me.”

“No, please. I understand. I do, and I’m sorry for putting you on the spot.” You mutter, trying to leave the room. His arms trap you, holding you tightly against him.

“When I tell you, that I needed a second to think about everything you said, that’s what I needed. Christ, Riggs. You’re beautiful and so out of my league. I’m lucky just to be sharing an apartment with you. I’m so sorry for bringing some chick there. It almost felt like cheating, didn’t it?” He whispers, pulling your chin up to meet his sweet gaze. You gave a weak nod. “I’m so sorry for putting you through that. I just, when you didn’t come home that night, I was so worried. And finally when Street called, said you were passed out in his car. I was relieved. I carried you up to bed, made sure you were okay. I loved every second of it. I want to carry you to bed, drunk or not, for the rest of our lives. I love you, Riggs. I never thought I’d mean it the way I do, but damn. I love you.” He smiles, rocking you two back and forth. You were now grinning and crying. “I hope those are happy tears.” He smiles, swiping them away with the pad of his thumb before grabbing your face and kissing your lips. Right there with a dozen officers as witnesses, you two couldn’t find a better place.

“I love you too, Luca.”

[irresistiibles]

alright this made me realize that i have ! a lot of characters but under the cut are little blurbs about everyone for the event for plotting! i mentioned a few that could be open to dates though honestly there are definitely a few others if that’s something people are interested in (i kinda assume either platonic or romantic dates would be on the casual side so do not feel like it would be throwing yourself into a ship). anyway! toss this a like and i will hit you up for plotting i’m happy to work stuff out either here or on discord!

asami sato - likes the idea of romance but is probably going to be angling more for networking. does well in a crowd and will be out drinking and socializing but be on guard about image and stuff. could totally take a date as a platonic sort of thing and she would buy them a nice outfit for it

ben hargreeves - a romantic at heart but awkward as hell. will wear something nice but be hiding 

blue sargent - not really about this sort of thing and definitely under-dressed. almost definitely in boots.

ciel phantomhive - absolutely hates this sort of stuff and things valentine’s day is kinda gross. will be there and look nice but will be trying to avoid engaging with people

dominique weasley - thinks this is a little ridiculous but probably fun so is optimistic. probably just socializing and maybe taking pictures and dancing. could have a fun platonic or romantic date

elsa of arendelle - another one who thinks the idea is sweet but is awkward as hell. vaguely concerned she’s going to freeze the potomac and will be staying away from the deck. could try dancing, maybe, though someone else would have to ask lmao

entrapta - thrilled to be there entirely for the fact that these types of parties tend to have tiny appetizers. does not have a romantic bone in her body but can dance. may be trying to check out the engine of the ship though

glinda - very excited and very dressed up. loves romance loves to dance, def out here to have a good time. definitely dragged elphaba.

haruhi fujioka - this all feels pretty rich people to them and they like romance but not big dramatic gestures. will look nice and put together and will just be enjoying food and drinks

howl jenkins pendragon - a dramatic flirt who will be dragging as many people out to dance as possible. is not picky on gender so good luck. may be wearing a cape 

ji eun tak - a cutie who loves romance and is excited for the chance to go to something like this. may be a little tipsy and dancing. could go for a chill platonic or romantic date. 

jaskier - another dramatic bi. will be drunk and dancing and be totally annoying about it. could potentially take a date though if he doesn’t he will absolutely bother people to dance and will have a hell of a pout if anyone says no. eventually will get drunk enough to start singing

karolina dean - prefers quiet romantic gestures but thinks this is cute enough. avoiding alcohol because she does not want to be drunk on a boat but still enjoying herself

kyoshi - awkward seven foot tall woman thinks this idea is nice but doesn’t really know what to do with it all. will probably be out on the deck most of the time since she doesn’t love crowds. friendly but weird in this sort of setting lavender brown - definitely a romantic and definitely into this whole thing. spent more time planning a dress than she’d ever admit and is excited to be there even if she isn’t thrilled going to this sort of thing sober

lily evans - not quite her vibe but figured she could go as like a break. wouldn’t be there for romance but very friendly and wouldn’t mind dancing with some people to chill

ling yao - doesn’t really get the point of this sort of thing but will go for the food and to try and make some connections. may be sneaking around even if there’s nothing to find he just wants to be sure

link - i know i have said certain characters are awkward but link takes the cake. this is a man who comfortably runs around in his underwear and prefers not to speak. he is most likely on the deck debating whether or not he could jump off and swim for it. under-dressed but still feels over-dressed

micihru kaioh - very comfortable in this environment. can dress well, dance, socialize, whatever needed. probably on guard because she still thinks she’s in washington for her mission though she’ll praise the romance and all that

pansy parkinson - will go anywhere for free alcohol but also thinks this sort of romantic stuff is kinda gross. will be probably be in a corner drinking

rita skeeter - excited to be here for the potential drama of it all. sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong and taking pictures and stuff. could take a date but would probably abandon them lol

sam giddings - thinks this is all a little overboard but kinda cute and she’s out doing her best to be optimistic. could go with a romantic or platonic date. will dance but probably uncomfortable with a real drunk crowd

tessa gray - out of her element but doing her best. got dragged by clary and definitely finds this all odd. maybe snuck a book in. does like the view on the deck if nothing else. 

thanatos - awkward. again. dressed well and that’s about it. this is a man who’s so bad at talking to people. came cause he got the invitation and felt obligated but is definitely regretting it. not against romance but finds this too much

toph beifong - literally in hell. this is a girl who uses earthbending to find her surroundings and cannot swim. she is now completely blind and stranded and having the worst time of her life. despite hating the water she’s probably sitting on the deck because she can get a little bit out of smell and sounds and prefers that to being trapped where everyone is dancing. frankly probably a little freaked out but hiding it

victor nikiforov - romantic but probably missing yuuri. mostly taking pictures and having fun and being loud. he’s a good dancer but there’s no saying if he’ll actually do it since big crowd things like this tire him out these days

zhongli - grandpa here doesn’t get the point of all of this but is going anyway. dressed very nice. probably telling everyone the history of boats over drinks and will not shut up while also babysitting lumine

[cakesunflower]

No Need Convincing Me: Maybe Elodie finally gives in to getting a tattoo from Calum, or maybe he gets Luke to do it so he can support her? I just imagine it being complete fluff. Like the whole build up to her thinking about it, Calum sketching ideas for her, then actually going and getting it? Ngl I just miss Cal and Elodie, they're one of my favourite couples in your masterlist 🥺

           Honestly, it was a moment he’d seen coming. Maybe because he knew Elodie too well, or she just wasn’t good at hiding it. But he knew her interest in one day getting a tattoo increased every time she walked into his shop. He’d see it in the way she’d peer at the many designs on the walls and in the booklets with a bit more attention than usual, how he’d catch her absently flicking through his sketchbook full of designs, tracing his tattoos more often than not.

           Calum never said anything about it though, never wanted to push her. Getting a tattoo was a big commitment, he should know, and if Elodie decided she wanted to ink her skin permanently, he wanted her to reach that decision on her own without any influence from him.

           Until one day they were having lunch in the café across the street from his shop, and after Elodie took a sip of her drink, she carefully stated, “I think I want a tattoo.”

           Calum swallowed his bite of his spinach pasta, eyebrows shooting up. He tried to quell his excitement as he wiped his mouth with a napkin before asking, “Really?”

           He apparently didn’t do too good of a job in hiding his anticipation because Elodie was chuckling in amusement. “I’m not surprised you’re more excited than I am.” Calum shot her an almost sheepish smile. “But yeah, really.” Arms folded on top of the table, she leaned forward and asked, “Know any good tattoo shops?”

           He shot her a bemused look, which only widened her pretty smile. “Do you know what you wanna get?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

           Elodie nodded, running her fingers through her light brown hair. “Yeah,” she answered, her shy smile returning. She hesitated for a moment, but Calum remained quietly patient until she spoke up once more. “You did that sketch of a dove; I saw it in your book. I was thinking of getting that.”

           Calum knew what she was talking about. It had been a hasty, quick sketch he’d done absently without really thinking about it. Elodie, Calum knew, admired all of his sketches, whether they were minimalistic or greatly detailed, and Calum loved her for it. “Why a dove?” Calum asked, tilting his head. He asked his customers this often, always wondering what their reasoning behind a tattoo was, making sure he never treaded on territory that was too personal. Of course, because it was Elodie, his curiosity was both professional and personal.

           She rolled her lips into her mouth, her gaze meeting his, and she offered a gentle chuckle. “It symbolizes a fresh start, right?” she said, smiling slightly. “I feel like a new person, a better version of myself. I feel like after everything that’s happened, I got a fresh start I didn’t know I needed. I got it after leaving Nathan and having a more active role in my family’s foundation and I got it—” Her smile turned shy once more, cheeks pink, shrugging gently as she finished, “I got it with you, too.”

           Calum gazed at her, feeling his chest swell and air rush into his lungs. He’d heard similar explanations from the few people he’d tattooed various forms of doves on, but Elodie’s explanation—it resonated with him the most, for obvious reasons. He couldn’t fight the smile off his face, watching as Elodie returned the smile. “Do you wanna get it today?”

           She nodded, and soon enough, the two were back in the tattoo shop. Calum didn’t have another client for a while, and so when he told Sierra he was using his station, Dominique, who’d been sitting next to her, eyed him and Elodie suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

           As Calum shrugged off his leather jacket, he watched as Elodie shot Dominique a smile, a combination of excitement and anxiety. “I’m finally getting a tattoo.”

           Dominique’s eyes widened, immediately on her feet. “No way! Are you serious?” she asked, the thrill heavy in her voice as her gaze flickered between Elodie and Calum. Then she narrowed her eyes at the tattoo artist, pointing her finger and demanding, “You didn’t talk her into it, did you?”

           Calum shot her a look, insulted she even had to ask that, and Elodie laughed lightly. “No, no, he didn’t. It was all me.” Then, with a hopeful smile, asked Dominique, “Can you sit with me? I’m definitely gonna need a hand to hold, and obviously Calum can’t do it.”

           He fought the smirk that wanted to curl at his lips. He loved that it wasn’t even a question that he would be the one giving Elodie her first tattoo. Luke could just as easily do it, but Calum loved that from the get-go, Elodie wanted it from him. It was a big deal, getting a tattoo, and knowing she had that much trust in him—not only to give her the tattoo but to also use one of his own designs—had Calum falling a little more in love with her.

           “Hell yes,” Dominique agreed before the two women followed Calum into the station.

           He could hear their conversation as Dominique asked Elodie what she was getting, and Calum kept himself busy by getting prepared, pulling out his sketchbook and flipping to the page where he’d sketched the design. Soon enough, Elodie was on the same chair she’d been on to get her nose pierced, Dominique sitting to her left to hold her hand while Calum sat to Elodie’s right so he could tattoo the spot below the inside of her elbow.

           Calum worked meticulously, as always, gloves on before sterilizing the area. He worked almost mechanically, going through all of the steps he always went through before the act of actually inking on the tattoo, forgetting in those moments that he was working up to marking his girlfriend’s skin with tiny needles. He looked at her, voice gentler than it was with any other client, as he asked, “You ready, El?”

           Her gaze met his and although Calum saw the nervousness, he also noticed her confidence in getting the tattoo—her confidence in him. She nodded, smiling slightly, left hand holding Dominique’s as she said, “Go for it.”

           He heard Elodie let out a quiet, controlled whimper at the first touch of the needles, and despite his desire to make sure she was okay, he continued his work. Calum owed it to her to keep his focus on the job at hand, so he left the job of comforting Elodie and attempting to get her mind off the pain to Dominique, who stepped up right away by striking up conversation with Elodie.

           When it was done, Calum sat back and watched as Elodie eyed the ink on her skin, still freshly raw and red, and he was surprised at the nerves knotting his stomach. He desperately hoped she liked it, hoped it was exactly on her skin as the way she pictured it in her head. Calum was never anxious like this after tattooing someone, was more than confident in his skills. But it was different giving his own girlfriend her first tattoo. Approval from his customers was always something Calum gratefully accepted; approval from Elodie felt far greater.

           “I love it,” Elodie breathed, the awe coloring her tone as she peered at it. She let out a soft scoff of disbelief. “It’s perfect, Cal. Thank you.”

           Calum’s eyes met hers and he found himself smiling at the delight in her eyes, feeling satisfied and relieved at the same time. Dominique, who’d been eyeing the new ink as well, hummed. “Perfect first tattoo for you,” she agreed. With a smirk, she added, “Proud of you, El. You didn’t even squeeze my hand that hard!”

           Elodie laughed at that and Calum smirked as well. “That’s my girl,” he praised, before reaching for his tray, getting ready to wrap it up.

           Now that any pain inflicting on Elodie was over, Dominique left the station to give the two of them a moment. And as Calum began gently cleaning the tattooed area, he said, “I’d tell you the aftercare process but since we live together—”

           She grinned, cheeks pink. “Perks of dating a tattoo artist,” she giggled lightly.

           He smirked. He was still going to tell her how to take care of it, though, despite her having some idea of it. It was his professional duty to do so. Once Calum finished wrapping it up, he sat back on the stool, hands on his knees and grin on his face. “There you go. One new tattoo, free of charge.”

           Elodie, who was now sitting up, facing him, scoffed. “Oh, come on—I’m sure we can think of some way for me to pay you,” she hummed, the teasing tone slipping into her voice as she leaned forward, mindful of her arm.

           Calum’s smirk returned, never one to be tired of this side of her. He leaned forward too because who was he to deny Elodie’s kisses?

[twistnet]

swat masterlist

✶ = smut/sexual themes.  ᰔ = author fav.  § = read warnings.

DOMINIQUE LUCA

✰ IMAGINES

subtle — luca isn’t exactly subtle about his growing affections towards you ꒰ ᰔ ꒱

late nights — luca comes home late one night, and just wants to cuddle up next to you

letters to you — luca never really had someone special to write his swat letter to

in sickness and health — behind every swat officer, is someone picking up the pieces and holding them together when they need it

something better — tensions have been tense since luca let street come to live with him and his girl, but he just won’t admit how he feels ꒰ ✶ ꒱

sweet on me — luca comes home injured and gets taken care of by his lover

redamancy — you grow tired of luca’s constant in and outs with girlfriends, especially when he always ends up on your couch. and it leads to some accidental los confessions

in your arms — first day off in days leading to some soft cuddles and love

marcid — the long shifts never bothered you before, or maybe that’s what you’re telling yourself when you wake up after falling asleep on luca’s lap in-between calls

under my fingertips — the police academy banquet is the perfect time to get back at luca for leaving you hanging this morning, don’t you think? ꒰ ✶ ꒱

replacement — you lose a necklace your grandma gifted you years ago; and luca goes out of his way to replace it for you ꒰ ᰔ ꒱

impulse — after a moment of dread, you sometimes will act on impulse; saying or doing things you may or may not regret later

high stakes — with the annual police verses fire department tournament just around the corner, you catch luca teeter on the edge of his stress

✰ HEADCANONS/CONCEPTS

traveling home with lover

first date

morning routine

taking care of his drunk lover

surprising his lover at work

proposing to his lover

dating would include

dating hondo’s best friend

celebrating his lover’s birthday

nsfw alphabet ꒰ ✶ ꒱

JIM STREET

✰ IMAGINES

one thing right — after everything jim street has been through, there’s only one thing he seems to have gotten right ꒰ ᰔ ꒱

viridity — an outing with friends leads to something more with someone you have always loved. until someone comes to stir up trouble just because she can ꒰ ✶ ꒱

in moments like these — a small moment shared between you and jim in the shower

estrange — after returning from his long stint undercover, you aren’t sure if you’re ready to accept jim back with open arms

cold — you’ve come down with a cold, and jim steps in to take care of you 

✰ HEADCANONS/CONCEPTS

nsfw alphabet ꒰ ✶ ꒱

CHRIS ALONSO

✰ IMAGINES

staying over — after chris walks away from her relationship with ty and kara, she needs a place to stay. her thumb hovers over your name before she places the call

sinking heart — chris’ drinking problems seemed to have come to a head. and you’re at a loss on what to do further

protection — in a search for something she had stuffed into your bag the previous night, she comes across something that she never expected to see

✰ HEADCANONS/CONCEPTS

being affectionate

nsfw alphabet ꒰ ✶ ꒱

VICTOR TAN

✰ IMAGINES

home comforts — after the harrowing day of chasing down a druggie who seems to murder anyone who gets in his way and dealing with buck’s depression leading him to almost committing suicide, victor just needs to be at home with the one person he cares about ꒰ § ꒱

golden traditions — with a small gathering of people you love to celebrate your engagement, victor has one last surprise for you once the last guest leaves ꒰ ᰔ ꒱

late night showing — on one of victor’s rare nights off, he takes you to a late night showing of a movie you had been raving about wanting to see almost all week

✰ HEADCANONS/CONCEPTS

nsfw alphabet ꒰ ✶ ꒱

DEACON KAY

✰ IMAGINES

never again — recon in a warehouse goes sideways and deacon is now your only chance of getting out alive ꒰ § ꒱

poison — the relationship that you had worked to keep secret from your brother is put to the test when you get poisoned trying to protect a high-profile journalist ꒰ ᰔ § ꒱

discharge — deacon struggles with his newfound method of getting help, but never imagined getting help from someone so close to him ꒰ § ꒱

✰ HEADCANONS/CONCEPTS

nsfw alphabet ꒰ ✶ ꒱

HONDO HARRELSON

✰ IMAGINES

the words you said — hondo’s mouth and the words that come out it in times of anger were always his downfall. now, here’s to hoping he can mend the bridge he burnt

staying up — you always have the habit of staying up, but hondo always takes care of you

apology — after you walk out during an argument, you realize just how stupid the whole conversation was and go back to make things up with your partner

✰ HEADCANONS/CONCEPTS

nsfw alphabet ꒰ ✶ ꒱

DONOVAN ROCKER

✰ IMAGINES

pain in my side — missions go wrong, and when they do, donovan is quick to remind you where you are needed

how it all began — donovan happens to cause an accident, not realizing that you are now overseeing a few missions within the swat headquarters. which is the starting point of your relationship and how it all began

✰ HEADCANONS/CONCEPTS

nsfw alphabet ꒰ ✶ ꒱

© twistnet 2017 — no permission is ever given to copy, translate or transfer any of my works to any other blog, platform, or claim as your own !!

[diamondcamefromhell]

Jaskier x fem!painter s/o

I had my first ever request but I managed to DELETE IT, lol, but I did read it, so I will try to rephrase it.

Request (by @dominique-draws ): A headcanon or imagine of Jaskier and painter s/o where she captures their adventures and victories in paintings while Jaskier does so in ballads, need for Jaskier fluff  (i AM so sorry I messed up your request, I feel so bad, hope you like it anyways xx)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1,426

I always loved to paint, ever since I was little. At first it was just mud one some old parchment, but I grew, and so did my talent. There was something about capturing a moment forever, my hand creating art before my very own eyes.

I remember when I felt creatively exhausted, just sipping ale, paint on my dress and my hands – tired of it all. Then the most wonderful voice filled the bar, waking the little kid inside of me, as creative juices began to flow. I pulled out paper then and there and began to draw the bard, with his companion Witcher.

The latter, seemed annoyed and the very existence of the bard, while the singer kept prancing around, singing ballad after ballad. I captured it all, beautifully, in a couple of panels. The bard eventually noticed me eyeing him and approached me, complimenting my ability to draw. I complimented his voice.

The rest was history. I joined their travels, and soon after, mine and bards hearts also came together in beautiful melody, the most perfect painting you could ever see.

Travelling with the Witcher, however, is dangerous, but Jaskier, as I learnt his name, made all of the days fun and full of light. He would capture the fights and the victories in songs, I would finish the picture with my paintings. We worked great together, making the continent love the Witcher.

Right now, Geralt has killed yet another kikimora, and Jaskier was trying to twist the tale just enough to make it interesting for a ballad. I started at the Witcher who was petting his beautiful horse, Roach, who was carrying kikimoras corpse, or what was left of it. We were camping. Fire was making all of their shadows look like monsters.

I picked up the paper.

“I need to capture this.” I say mostly for myself, but Jaskier hears it, his eyes landing on me. A smile curls his lips.

“Make sure to get my pretty side.” He winks at me and I giggle.

“Always.” I mutter, as Geralt grunts. “Don’t worry Geralt, I will make sure Roach looks as beautiful as she is.”

“You’re amazing.” The bard lands next to me. He loves to look at me when I draw. I pull out some charcoal and begin sketching. Geralt also sits down near the fire, staring directly at it. I capture that too, the blood on his hands and the brooding look. “He always broods in your paintings.”

“Well he always broods, not just in my drawings Jask.” I point out, not taking my eyes away from the sketch.

“Even when we are victorious, Geralt never seems to be happy.” Witcher hmm’s at that, and I smile, staring a new panel on the parchment.

“Fine, I will try to make him look happy.” I say, entertaining the idea to Jaskier, who pulls out his lute and plays a soft tune.

“Oh angry angry Witcher, will he ever smile // the joy he brings to world, rests heavy on his heart // oh dearest dearest Geralt, show the world your light // sad little witcher, please begin to smile “ Jaskier stops, waiting for Geralt to react but to no avail. The bard sighs, wrapping one of his hands around me. “I tried, Y/N, I tried!”

“Careful, I’m drawing.” I say, as I shift so I am more comfortable in his arms. Jaskier smirks, looking down.

“Oh dear.” He gasps and I finally lift my eyes from the drawing to look at the lovely bard beside me. He looks surprised. “This may be the most horrifying thing I have ever seen, my love.”

“Thanks.” I say, bitterly, but he rips the paper out of my hands, springing to feet and rushing to Geralt, who takes one glance at my sketch.

“Maybe you should never smile, Geralt.” Jaskier pulls the drawing from Witchers face, closely examining it. “You look scary.”

“Fuck off, bard.” Geralt grunts, pushing him away, as he rushes back to me. Only then he notices the look on my face.

“Oh, sorry my lovely Y/N.” He hands me the parchment. “It’s not your skill I am criticizing, it’s Geralt.”

“Fuck off bard.” I imitate Geralt and I swear for a moment I see him smirk. I gasp, turning the parchment over clinging to my charcoal. Automatically, my hand knows what to do.

“Well if you both dislike me so much, why do you always seem worried when I get hurt!” Jaskiers voice reaches me, and I smile, immediately adding annoyed bard next to Geralt.

Capturing the big victories, like the dragon fight, is always fun and challenging. It makes history, leaves a trace of all of us after we’re gone. The songs and the drawings impress people, make them feel like they were there, but my favourite are moments like this.

Where you can see true Geralt, not the mighty Witcher, but one who cares about his friends deeply, even if he tries not to show it. The Geralt who can crack a smile when he thinks we can’t see, the one who may be silent, but joins in on our conversation with his snarky comments. Not the great scary monster hunter I pain and Jaskier sings about, but Geralt of Rivia, the good friend.

And Jask too, when he gets annoyed and pretends to be upset at us. Or the way he interacts with Geralt, so unapologetically jumping to Witchers face, making fun of him. At the same time, insecure about his music. Throwing his ideas to the sky, seeing where they land. Geralt and I have heard many ballads that the world will never be blessed enough to listen to or sing, simply because they didn’t land.

And me, happy and content in this weird company. Safe, and happy.

You can’t capture moments like this with a lute and a good rhyme, trust me, Jaskier has tried. They don’t catch on, nobody wants to hear about three friends sitting by the fire. Drawings like these also get less praise and attention. Nobody cares about the hero when he rests.

That’s why I love moments like this, they are, and always will be, just ours.

I finish the drawing, putting my charcoal on the ground next to me. Jaskier stops whining and peaks over my shoulder to look too.

“This, Y/N, is a masterpiece.” He always compliments my work, but this time I can say it’s coming from a heart. He kneels to me, pulling me closer, kissing both of my cheeks. “You are the most amazing woman this continent was blessed with.”

“This would never exist if it weren’t for you.” I smile, pulling back. I lift myself to my feet. “Or you, Geralt.”

“Hmm.” I hand him the drawing as his eyes scan it. I see his lips curl up just a little. Jaskier hugs me, also looking at the drawing, smile beaming on his face. “This isn’t bad.”

“A compliment from a Witcher?” Jask steps back, throwing his hands in the air. “You say my singing is fillingless pie!”

“Hmm.” Geralt hands me the painting, looking at Jaskier. “Don’t sing to Y/N, she might leave.”

Jaskier gasps and I laugh. As he defends his singing, I look at the drawing in my hands, that even Geralt liked. It’s so simple, him, by the fire, with a smirk on his face, Jaskier, visibly annoyed behind him, throwing his hands in the air. The beloved Roach, just staring at these two idiots, and me, sitting on a log, laughing.

I roll it up, knowing I will treasure it forever. I go to grab Jaskiers hand, immediately calming him down.

“Come on, buttercup, you know he didn’t mean it.” I say and I can practically feel Jask melt in my hands. He loves his nickname.

“I’m just playing with you.” He grins, letting go of my hand rushing to his lute.

No matter how much he loves me, I feel like he loves his lute more. I sigh and sit next to Geralt, as bard begins to entertain us with another one of his creations. I can already tell this one will only stay between the three of us, but I enjoy it. Even Geralt doesn’t ‘angry grunt’ at it.

“This one was for us.” Jaskier winks at me. “Not for the world.”

“Just like my drawing.” I point out and the bard beams.

Roach neighs, as if to agree, and Witcher let’s out one of his kinder hmms. This moment seems perfect.

But kikimoras body kinda stinks.