#originally these ocs were not in the same story AT FIRST when i made lucky he was. a warrior cats oc named luckyshadow sjdkafsfjd

[apompkwrites]

the royal draconias || malleus draconia

masterlist characters: malleus (platonic) genre: angst contains: reader is a child of infidelity, more unprofessional servants, probably really inaccurate compared to canon :/ summary: the story of (name) draconia. notes: finally! all of the main seven have been written! waaaah anyway now i can get around to making that oc guide for characters in the black sheep universe :DD parts: [og post] | [the royal draconias (1)] | [the "good" fairies (2)]

there was once a woman living in one of the highest towards of the palace in briar valley. she was known as the lady of the valley, the direct descendent of the current queen.

her husband was known for his time commanding the royal guard as the lord of the valley, often spending his days outside of the palace with members of the guard. leaving the lady all by her lonesome in the oh-so-quiet tower.

that is until a visitor came along.

for as long as you had been alive, you were raised for one purpose and one purpose only: to serve the draconia family.

the family you were meant to be a part of.

it wasn't much of a secret to you despite the lengths the family went through to make it so. you found it easy to piece together your origin when you could vaguely recall the arguments a few rooms down the hall debating your future.

that was when the lord and lady of the valley were still alive. when word of their passing swept through briar valley, the entirety of the land was sent spiraling into mourning. mourning for the late lady and lord of the valley, the two royals that could do no wrong yet were taken too soon.

meanwhile, the queen had made her decision. her child had birthed, not only the new crowned prince of the valley, but you.

the bastard child of the lady of the valley.

the royal draconia blood had been diluted by your father, whose name you did not know. his presence was purged from history as the queen stepped in, ensuring the fact that a second heir to the throne had been birthed remained a secret swept under the rug.

one issue remained after your father was essentially erased from history, however. what would happen to you?

well, the queen decided on keeping you in the palace. something that you often saw spawned disgust and disdain from the other residents of the palace. although they understood her reasoning, keeping the royal blood closed off rather than out in the general public, that did not stop them from criticizing you.

you were lucky you were assigned to a kinder soul, an older fae who had been under the queen's staff for years upon years. she paid no mind to your blood relative and, instead, ensured that you were nothing but the best as to retain some semblance of pride in yourself.

she was much like your mother, all the way down to their names being similar. you were eternally grateful for miss leah, sticking to her like you would your mother had you been given the chance to.

you wondered if she would have offered the safe openmindedness as miss leah. you wondered if she would love you as her child or denounce you as nothing more than a stain to the draconia name.

"good morning, ma'am," you greeted miss leah as you walked a few steps behind. her ever-present smile was what greeted you in return, her soft lilac blue eyes seemed to scan over you and, with a light flick of her wrist, she motioned for you to step closer.

you followed her command hesitantly, the eyes of other servants burning into your back as they always did. at first, you struggled to keep in step with miss leah, but after a few minutes, you found yourself walking at the same pace as her. she lowered her hand towards your back, her featherlight touch tickling your clothes just slightly.

"straighten your back, dear," she advised in that same, soft tone. "do not let the others see that their words are getting to you."

"yes, ma'am," you replied automatically, allowing her touch to push your back out slightly. she seemed to nod herself with satisfaction, continuing her walk down the hall with you by her side.

this was what you had known your life to be ever since you could form memories. your daily walk down the hall to whatever duty miss leah had planned that day had soon become a monotonous start to your routine. most days, it would be to check on the other servants in the palace. ensure they were doing their jobs and doing them to the utmost perfection. however, it seemed today you were no longer an apprentice. no, you were going to be more than just a shadow to miss leah.

"i expect the best out of your performance, dear," miss leah spoke with her soft smile and half-lidded eyes, a few stray silver hairs falling in front of her eyes. "after all, you learned from myself."

"nothing but the best, ma'am," you nodded in response, your shoulders squared stiffly.

"oh, relax now," she lightly chuckled, placing her hands on your shoulders. "there is nothing for you to be afraid of, i assure you. besides, this is merely a short change. this will not be your permanent place in the palace staff. think of this as... a trial run."

you replied once more with a nod before turning back to the door you had arrived at. with a deep breath, you readied yourself for this "trial run" as miss leah referred to it as.

a trial run with some of your harshest critics in the palace.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden @kalims @sxftiebee @luxaryllis @auld-a @the-dumber-scaramouche @ayra2452008 @tinywho-man @spadecentral @justeclem44 @bajifairyy

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland angst #twst angst #twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland malleus x reader #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x reader #black sheep

[blighted-lights]

i wanna ask abt beastformers deadlock. i wanna ask aby beastformers deadlock so bad

YOU!!

(thank you sm for asking, deadlock has been rotting in my brain for weeks you have no idea. as a treat, have some sketches of him as i try to figure out his design!)

putting this under a read more because it's kind of a lot but; lore time!

(sudden change to proper grammar!)

Drift was forged as a feline beastformer with an entierly different name. He was forged at a time when the Functionalist Council's political power was at its highest, and as such, was subjected to the same extreme prejudices as others with animalistic forms were. He spent the early years of his life struggling; resorting to all manner of dangerous jobs in order to make ends meet. With no education or stable place to live, Drift was desperate for a way to escape the situation that was unfairly put upon him due to his altmode.

Drift was eventually approached by someone (an OC made out of convince who has since become the boogie man of several different stories by this point) who was willing to give Drift a new chance at life... so long as he was willing to give up his beastformer altmode, be put into a new frame, and change his name. Drift agreed out of pure desperation. He renamed himself Drift and underwent the frame change; going in as a beastformer and coming out as a speedster. The mech who "compassionately" took Drift in became his patron and funded his life as a racer, and for a while, Drift lived comfortably. (If you can call being exploited for labor, being turned into a product, barely seeing any of the profits he makes, and feeling disconnected from himself and everyone else around him as "comfortable".)

However, this arrangement only lasted a few short decades. The life of a racer was a difficult one, and Drift coped poorly with the change. While he initally had a very successful run, his performance slowly began to worsen over time. He was costing his patron more money than he was producing, and after a devastating "accident" on the raceway resulted in Drift completely wiping out with extensive damage, his patron decided to cut his loses and try again with someone else. Drift was casted back out onto the streets with zero support and lingering damage from his accident, and the next bit is pretty much as we know it in canon.

Drift ends up in the Dead End, meets Gasket and the rest of his group, and struggles on the streets for many years until he is eventually picked up by Megatron and renamed Deadlock. He fought alongside the rest of the Decepticons against the corrupt, oppressive society that the Senate and functionalists promoted, and finally thought he found a place to belong.

After the deaths of the Senate, followed closely after by the hunting down of the Functionalist Council, Deadlock received the chance to return to his original altmode. He was initially hesitant to do so; he felt so disconnected from his original identity that the idea of returning to having a beastformer altmode was intimidating. He'd grown comfortable with being a speedster, as he associated it with the saftey and comforts with his brief life as a racer. Eventually- with some subtle coaxing from others, namely Ravage- Deadlock agreed to undergo another frame change to regain his original altmode. He got lucky; he was able to keep both his speedster alt and the addition of his feline one. Deadlock woke up as a triple-changer, and from that point on, his beastmode was deeply tied into his identity as a Decepticon. He believed it was the Decepticons who gave him the ability to be who he truly was (as well as the ones who enabled him to get sober), which was something Deadlock felt so, so rarely in his life. Deadlock was a speedster, yes, but he was a beastformer first. It became impossible for him to seperate being a beastformer, a Decepticon, and Deadlock.

So when he left the Decepticons and eventually joined the Autobots as Drift, he pushed his identity as a beastformer away once again. Not only because revealing that he is a triple-changer risked others being able to link him back to being Deadlock, which only Autobot High Command knows about, but because his identity as a beastformer is so deeply tied in with being a Decepticon that he didn't know how to fit it into being an Autobot, if that makes sense. Drift still has the ability to transform into his beastmode and there are other Autobots who know about it, but he only does so if a situation absolutely requires it of him. He associates his identity of being a beastformer with being a Decepticon, and some of the guilt and shame he feels for his actions as Deadlock bleed over into how he feels about his altmode as well. Its a mess of complicated emotions and identity issues. As if Drift didn't have enough of those already 💀.

(and hey, if you made it this far, this is for you 🌸)

But yeah! Those are the super basics of my Drift/Deadlock being a beastformer lore. I love talking ab the Drift that lives in my brain sm tho, so if anyone had any more questions, feel free to ask!! I've considering writing fanfic for this version of Drift/Deadlock but 🤔 I'm not sure if I will, yet. He's mostly living life as a roleplay muse for now lmao

#ask: driftng #deadlock #mtmte drift #tf drift #drift #maccadam #maccadams #transformers #mtmte #tf mtmte #tf art #transformers art #my art #tf deadlock #asks #SHAKES DRIFTNG AROUND SPECIFICALLY #someone pls talk to me about beastformer deadlock/drift I am SO NORMAL about him!!! #more than meets the eye #blight's meta

[izayoichan]

2, 4, 7, 17, 30, and all creator questions for my boi :)

For the boi!

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh? Very easy, he is the type that can laugh about almost anything, even when they hit their toe against something sharp, they just can't help but laugh, even though it fucking hurts. He also has a very contagous laugh, the type that if he starts and really gets the chuckles, no one in a room could either not smile, or start laughing too.

4. How easy is it to earn their trust? He is far from the worst with it, although I think he is good at giving people some trust to begin with, and then let them prove to him that they are worth more trust that just that little bit in the beginning. So you have to work a bit to get into that proper inner circle of trust. Outwardly that makes him seem really trustful to most.

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling? There are two things that are equal for him nostaliga wise. (this is a bit of a spoiler, but ah well) watching pairs skate is something that triggers nostalgia for him. After him and Ye-Min's accident he never got a new partner to skate with, but went solo. He doesn't mind that feeling, but it is bittersweet for him. It's hard to wonder what if. The other thing is helping out at the shelter. It brings back all the memories he had a child, and he loves the feeling it gives. It's simply comforting. So yes, he brings his daughter along, to hopefully give her the same feelings as he has when there.

17. Are they easily embarrassed? Suprisingly yes. He has learned how to hide it well due to his job, but yeah, he is quite easily embarrased. He doesn't blush easily, but a tell tell sign is shuffeling of feet and twiddeling his fingers when he gets embarrased.

30. Who do they most regret meeting? Hmh... I don't know if he regrets meeting anyone, he has been lucky that way. The only thing that comes to mind, is some of the kids that were bullies when he were younger, saying that his love for figure skating wasn't good. And then for me: A: Why are you excited about this character? Because he is so different from the normal character I make. I tend to make the happy couples and all that, and Rylan simply deviates from that norm, and I adore him for that. B: What inspired you to create them? He kinda did himself, I do play the kids a little, I made him a teen, and no matter who flirted with him, no one was interrested. So first I was thinking a bachelor, to find that spark, but after talking about it with @mahvaladara i realized I didn't feel that was right. He shouldn't have to fall in love with anyone if he so clearly did not want to. C: Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story? Yes, because my brain followed my standard they shall find someone and live happily ever after in the end, but they wanted differently. D: Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look? They aged up pretty much the way they looked now, I had to add the horns, scales hair and eyes, but other than that he is basically just how he grew up. E: Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you? Yeah, I think we would get along, We share a few traits, and some ways of thinking.

F: What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)? A half a year ago: Frustration, because i did not know what to do with them, none of the original idea felt right. Now, exitment and pride in who I feel they chose to be.

G: What trait of theirs bothers you the most? He is a athletic one.. so he always wants to exercise, mostly skate tbh, but its every single time I try and do something, like poses, he breaks out and does pushups, goes to skate and so on.

H: What trait do you admire most? His devotion to his family, specially his daughter and her mother. Even though they are not together, he cares deeply for both of them, and his family in general. He is very very family oriented.

I: Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe? I don't mind him going a bit in the fantasy direction on occasion, or an AU if it comes to mind. As long as his little one can come with, I'm happy with whatever my silly mind can come up with.

J: Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character? Luckily not. He had no big canon other than being part of the story I have.

thank you for asking!

#simblr #the ward legacy #ts4 #Rylan Ward #oc asks #thank you for asking

[madlad-sadgal]

Intro Post

Did I just now realized I haven't made one? Yes. But here it is now!

My Blog/About Me

My blog is a safe place for practically everyone (except for TERFs, get off my page). I don't care if you're here just to look around, or if it's because you're interested in one of the things I talk about, you're welcomed here and I'll gladly talk with you about whatever it is you might want to! <3 I'm active in a few fandoms on here, mostly Nimona, though I also like RWRB, LOTR, and a bunch of other stuff.

About me, I'm bigender and mostly use he/him and she/her, though I'm comfortable with pretty much anything. I also think I'm pan, but I've kinda been doubting that recently? Eh, I'll get through it. I live in Quebec so you might catch some works written in French (I'll probably add the translations under cuts though).

Writeblr

I've been meaning to get more into Writeblr and share more about some of my writing, fanfiction and original works alike. The things I like to write most about is fantasy and also LGBTQ+ stuff. So here are two original works you might catch me talking about:

Life after Life (Undefined Title) Tag: Life After Life(:OC/Plot/Etc) This is a story of two soulmates, reincarnation, immortality and betrayal. One is immortal, while the other one is mortal. The immortal one has to watch as their lover dies, but they always get reincarnated and always manage to find each other, usually when the mortal one is around 20 years old. Except this time, it takes until the mortal is 27 years old for them to find each other, and the immortal doesn't think much of it at first, but they can't help but notice that their lover is acting differently than they did in their past lives, which isn't inherently bad, but they can't remember a single time when their personality wasn't the same at the base. But it as time keeps passing, it becomes clearer and clearer that their lover is not the same, and someone seems to know of their immortality. Someone they may have met in the past. Now they have to try and protect themselves and their lover from this person, but what can this mortal be hiding from their own soulmate? What shall they do when war and love collide? Will they forgive each other for these hidden secrets? More importantly, will they manage to stay with each other this time, or will they be forced to wait until the next life once more? (Also ending line idea: Mortal, dying: I'll see you in the next one, yeah? Immortal, crying, and holding them: And every single one that follows.)

Love is a Fantasy (Been working on this one for over a year now, the one I'll be talking about the most because this is one I am very passionate about. Also don't get fooled by the title, this isn't just filled with unrequited love.) Tag: Love is a Fantasy(: OC name/Plot/Etc) LGBTQ+ story exploring how teens go through questioning their gender and sexuality and how people may pride themselves differently on this stuff.

Alex is a gay teenager who isn't ashamed of his sexuality, but keeps it to himself mostly. He is lucky enough to have accepting parents and friends, but the crush he has on one of his best friends may complicate their friendship, which terrifies him. He uses he/him pronouns.

Ava is a non-binary lesbian teenager who uses they/them pronouns. They are proud of their sexuality and gender and never hesitate to correct people who misgender them. They've been friends with Alex since the two were young. Their parents aren't exactly weirded out by them, but more so confused by all this, but Ava gladly answers all their questions and doesn't let that stuff get to them.

Ethan is a bisexual teenager who turned Ava and Alex's duo into a trio, but lately, he's been wondering if maybe he's not as attracted to women as he originally thought. This terrifies him because his parents aren't the most accepting people, and he also has a girlfriend whom he doesn't want to break the heart of. But of course Alex just has to complicate everything, doesn't he? ;)

Avery is Ethan's girlfriend, but she's dealing with a lot at home, and now on top of that she doesn't know where her feelings stand. She thought she was pan her whole life, not feeling a difference in romantic attraction towards gender, but all of this comes to a half when she meets one of the new kids who explains she doesn't feel any romantic or sexual attraction, and now she doesn't know where anything stands anymore.

Evelyn and Chelsey have been friends since they were young, often helping each other hide their sexuality and genders from their Christian parents. Evelyn is pansexual and bigender, often stepping way off of the gender binary and just having fun with her looks, though a certain Ava catches her eye once she meets them. Chelsey is aro-ace and is open to pretty much any pronoun, and they have a pretty feminine style.

All these kids meet in an LGBTQ+ club (created and hosted by Ava), and are now helping each other figure out their sexualities, helping each other hide certain things from Christian parents, and just trying to get through the horrors of the teenage years.

Other Socials

Just my AO3 for now:

#love is a fantasy #life after life #oc #non binary #nonbinary #lesbian #bisexual #lgbtq #aromantic #asexual #aroace #gay #soulmates #writeblr #pansexual #bigender #writing #writers of tumblr #writeblr intro #blog intro

[shmaptainwrites]

*KICKS DOWN DOOR*

Hiiiiiii!!!!!

I NEED RAVI AND ERIN WITH “I JUST ADORE YOU!”

Thank you 🥰🫨

BESTIE HELL YES HERE YOU GO

Pairings: Ravi Panikkar x Erin Nash (OC)

Warnings: pregnancy and birth mentions

Note: so this is set in the same universe as the Bobby x Reader blurb “I Love You” but with a slight modification made so instead of Reader it’s an OC (Tamara). The plots are exactly the same just one allowed me to be more free with my image of the characters than the other

Adore (4+1)

Ravi’s only plan that day after work was to come home, chuck his bag across the floor, flop onto his couch and fall asleep. He’d only just thrown his bag off to the side when there was a knock at his door and he groaned internally. He didn’t think there could possibly be anything enticing enough to rouse him away from his original plan, but when he opened the door and barely even had a chance to say hi before Erin walked right past him and into the kitchen with a big paper bag the thought crossed his mind that perhaps there was one thing.

“Hey I know you had a long shift today, but I figured you’d be starving since you got off before dinner and I know dad hasn’t been working so the food is probably questionable anyways, and you don’t ever eat nearly as much as you should with all the work that you’re doing,” Erin said without wasting a breath and unpacking the bag she had brought with her.

“Erin, slow down,” Ravi chuckled.

“Sorry,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm up in embarrassment due to her rambling. “I brought your burritos from your favourite place. I thought we could have dinner together.”

Ravi came over to his friend and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

“Erin, you are my favourite person in the world right now,” he said. “I was just going to come home and crash and I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until I smelt-oh my God is that the steak burrito?”

“Yep,” Erin laughed and handed it to him. “And your favourite drink to go with it,” she handed him a giant bottle of sparkling mango juice.

Ravi couldn’t help himself, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and dragged her and the food to the couch.

Ravi was so hungry he ate his first burrito before Erin could even get halfway through hers.

“Lucky I got you another one,” she chuckled and pulled more food out of the bag.

This time he ate a little more slowly as they chatted and caught up over the time they hadn’t seen each other. Erin opened the mango juice and took a sip straight from the bottle before passing it over to Ravi who laughed as she drank from the comically large bottle.

Erin told him about another odd thing her supervisor had done recently when she had gone in to look over some things for her thesis with her and Ravi just watched her with the sweetest look in his eyes.

“Ravi, why are you looking at me like that,” she chuckled.

“I just…adore you,” he smiled.

“Okay someone’s feeling a little sappy,” she playfully nudged him.

“No I mean it,” he sat up properly. “You know what I need before even I know it. You remember my favourite things, you come and tell me the most random stories about your supervisor, what more reason do I need?”

“Alright,” she smiled. “I’ll take your word for it Panikkar.”

—

“Ravi,” Erin stopped him quickly. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Of course you can, Erin your dad is my boss,” he emphasized. “If I can face him every day at work, you can meet my parents.”

“I know, I know,” she nodded but squirmed with stress. Ravi gently grabbed her wrists and got her to look him in the eye. “I just really want them to like me.”

“They’re going to love you,” he assured you. “That’s a Panikkar promise.”

Ravi gave her a quick kiss for comfort and she nodded once more, taking a deep breath before Ravi knocked on the door.

When the door opened, the couple barely had a moment to breathe before they were engulfed in warm hugs from both Ravi’s parents.

“Erin, it's so good to meet you,” his mother said. “You’re just as beautiful as he described.”

She came to gently cradle Erin’s face in a motherly way and Erin couldn’t help but smile, maybe Ravi was right this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Please let’s go inside, dinner is ready,” his father ushered them in and Erin admired the home her boyfriend had grown up in. It reminded her of her parents’ first house in Minnesota, a little bit on the smaller side, but not lacking in personality.

“Erin, I hope Ravi’s made you his favourite dish before,” his mother said.

“Barbecued chicken seasoned with some masala spices right?” she turned to Ravi and he nodded his head.

“Did he ever tell you how that came about?” his father asked.

“No I don’t think he has?” she shook her head while Ravi pulled out her chair for her.

“Must have slipped my mind,” he squeezed her shoulder. “I don’t know why mama finds it so funny.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s funny,” his mother offered, placing a dish full of chicken on the table while his dad brought the rice. “You’ll see why I like the story once I tell it,” she assured Erin. “Ravi’s father and I were always worried that since he was born here in LA, he wouldn’t appreciate the food we grew up on as much as the food all the other kids around him were eating, but one day he comes back from class and asks me if we can have barbecue for dinner. So I try to throw something together and decided to season the chicken with some masala spices. Lo and behold, Ravi becomes obsessed with the dish and we have it once a week for the rest of the year. He’d share it with his friends, ask for it on his birthday, anything, you name it.”

“Oh that is sweet,” Erin grinned. “I’m not sure how much Ravi’s told you about my family, but food is very big for us. My dad was training to become a chef before he was a firefighter. So I’m very glad you guys are sharing this with me.”

“Of course,” Ravi’s father nodded. “Anyone who’s important to our son is important to us.”

Erin smiled again and the two older Panikkar’s didn’t hesitate to begin to serve her food.

The conversation around the dinner table was lighthearted with lots of laughs. Erin knew Ravi was not easily embarrassed, but his parents seemed to know all the right stories to tell to make him hide his face in mortification.

After dinner was over, Ravi and Erin cleared the table together and Ravi asked Erin if she felt okay to spend some time with his parents without him while he washed the dishes.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be okay,” she nodded and they shared another quick kiss before parting ways.

Erin sat next to Ravi’s mother who took her hands in her own and began recounting stories of her son from his childhood.

“What was it like growing up in Minnesota?” his father asked.

“Cold,” Erin chuckled, “but it was home. I played hockey as a kid so I have a lot of memories from tournaments and games. My parents were my biggest cheerleaders. I think you guys would actually get along really well.”

“From what Ravi tells us I think so too,” Mr. Panikkar nodded.

“Ravi,” Erin called. “What’s a good story from my childhood that I can tell?”

“The one about when Mari was born,” he responded.

Of course he would pick that one. Erin chuckled and thought to herself.

“Alright, so my sister Mariella was born under pretty interesting circumstances. My mother’s pregnancy with her was quite difficult so my dad wanted to treat her to a weekend away before she was due. I stayed with my uncle during this time, but it turns out my sister had no intention of waiting until her due date and came early. My dad had to deliver her in the cabin they were staying in and it was a whole thing,” she waved her hand. “Anyways, when my parents came over to my uncle’s home with my baby sister I refused to believe she was my sister because I didn’t meet her at the hospital like my parents had promised. It took them a whole month to convince me that she was, in fact, my little sister and during that first month I made their life absolute hell because I thought she was some sort of imposter sent out to steal my parents from me.”

Erin could hear Ravi laughing from the kitchen and his parents joined in with him, the story was ridiculous but she was six and headstrong, it took a lot to deter her from her opinions.

When Ravi came back into the living room, he saw Erin squished between his parents, bent over a photo album, sharing stories and laughing together like they’d known each other for ages.

The night soon came to an end and Erin and Ravi were sent on their way with containers of food and dessert.

After the door closed behind them, Ravi pulled Erin close and pressed a firm kiss to her lips.

“I adore you,” he smiled. “And I think it’s safe to say my parents do too.”

Erin laughed and simply pressed another kiss to his lips.

“Good, because I love them.”

Ravi wrapped an arm around Erin’s waist and sighed contentedly when Erin rested her head against his shoulder as they walked to the car.

—

Erin yawned and stretched her arms out only to have her yawn stifled by a kiss.

“Good morning Mrs. Panikkar,” Ravi mumbled against her lips and she couldn’t help but grin.

“Morning, Mr. Panikkar.”

When her eyes finally adjusted to the warm morning light pouring into their room, she turned around to face her husband only to be pulled in close to his chest.

“How long have you been staring at me,” she asked with a chuckle.

“Oh not too long, just half an hour,” Ravi shrugged.

“Half an hour?!” Erin laughed. “Ravi, you should have woken me up!”

“You just looked so peaceful,” he tilted her chin up to look at him. “And I know better than to disturb the bride and her beauty sleep.”

“Says the guy who threw a fit when I woke him up at nine for a dentist appointment,” Erin rolled her eyes and Ravi laughed.

Erin let one of her hands rest against Ravi’s cheek before running her fingers through his hair. She couldn’t believe she was married, and lucky enough to be married to her best friend.

“I love you,” she smiled with a look of fondness in her eyes.

“I love you too,” Ravi leaned down and kissed her slowly, savouring every moment.

When they pulled apart he took her hand and pressed small kisses along the intricate designs so carefully drawn on them.

Ravi thought Erin had been a saint, listening to both of their parents and including them in the planning process while still making the wedding their own.

He promised himself he wouldn’t cry, but when he saw Erin walk out dressed in a beautiful flowing lehenga — at the insistence of his own mother — he couldn’t keep the tears at bay.

“What are you thinking about?” Erin asked, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Last night,” he tilted his head downwards so his forehead could rest against hers. “How lucky I am to have you in my life, how I just adore you.”

“I’m just as lucky,” Erin insisted. “I got to marry my best friend.”

“We’re both a little screwed for tonight though,” he chuckled. “Family dinner.”

“Oh God, Mari and Val are going to be relentless,” Erin groaned.

“Don’t worry I have a game plan,” Ravi assured Erin.

“Which is?”

“Tell on them. Specifically to your mother.”

Erin burst out laughing and nodded her head,

“A perfect plan,” she kissed him once more, thinking she’d never been happier in her whole life.

—

“Oh my goodness,” Tamara whispered. “She’s so-she’s so precious.”

Erin and Ravi smiled, looking down at the sweet little new born baby in their arms, the baby they had created.

“Everyone, this is Mina Panikkar,” Erin introduced. “Mina meet your grandparents and aunties.”

Ravi and Erin both gave their daughter a kiss before passing her first to Erin’s mother, Tamara, who was immediately crowded by the rest of the relatives.

Bobby quickly slipped away to give a kiss to his own daughter and remind her of how proud he and her mother were of her.

Ravi was glued to his wife’s side, unable to believe there was a time when he thought this wouldn’t be a good idea. The second Mina was born, any lingering remaining senses of doubt had vanished, all that mattered was her and Erin. It was that simple.

Ravi sat next to Erin on the hospital bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently into his side.

“If you’re tired you can sleep,” he whispered to her.

“I’m okay,” she assured him. “Plus you think I’d miss this show?” she pointed to her parents and in-laws already smothering her child while her sisters stood annoyed in the back that they weren’t getting their turn.

“Hey Mari, where’s Buck?” Erin asked.

“He wanted to bring you guys something, he’s on his way,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore, a little dazed,” Erin admitted. “But happy. I’m very happy.”

“What about you, Ravi?” Valerie jumped in.

“I’m not gonna lie I freaked out when she went into labour, but now that Mina’s here and healthy and safe,” he shrugged, there wasn’t a word to encompass what he was feeling.

“You guys seem really at peace,” Mariella noted.

“Yeah,” Erin sighed. “It’s easy to feel that way when you know your baby’s going to be so loved.”

Ravi pressed a kiss to Erin’s temple as they watched the grandparents finally let Mariella and Valerie get a little closer and come say hi to their niece.

“Erin,” he whispered.

“Yeah, V?”

“I adore you.”

Erin smiled and curled in closer to her husband.

“Good. That’s the least I deserve after pushing a human out of my body after growing it for nine months.”

Ravi chuckled and kissed Erin once more.

“Yes, it definitely is.”

—

“Mommy! Mom! Psst!”

Erin blinked her eyes open and saw her daughter leaning forward on the edge of her bed.

“Wake up! Daddy’s coming with a surprise!”

Erin yawned with a small chuckle, it wasn’t much of a surprise now, but she listened to her daughter and sat up on the bed, pulling her up there with her.

“Did Daddy send you in here to see if I was awake?” Erin asked and Mina nodded.

“Daddy! Mommy’s awake!” she yelled and Erin laughed, this was definitely not the way Ravi wanted things to go.

The door opened to their room and Ravi came in with baby Anush strapped to his chest and a tray full of breakfast foods and coffee.

“I’m assuming there’s no point in saying surprise?” he asked and Erin nodded. “Happy anniversary sweetheart.”

“Happy anniversary, Ravi,” Erin and Ravi shared a sweet kiss before Mina decided to break them apart.

“Mommy look, I helped Daddy with the waffles,” she pointed and Erin gave her a smacking kiss on her cheek.

“I see that! Thank you my lovey,” Erin grinned. “And thank you too,” she held Ravi’s hand and looked at him fondly while her son lay fast asleep against his chest.

“There is one thing though that is really a surprise,” he pulled something out of his pocket. “Just a little present.”

She took the envelope from his hands and peeled it open only to see two seasons tickets to the Anaheim Ducks.

“What do you think? Date nights for the next little bit?” he asked.

“Ravi, I adore you,” she chuckled and brought him in for another kiss. “I adore how you know me, how you love me, how you love our children. I adore every single piece of you.”

A bright smile made its way to Ravi’s face and he easily slipped his hand into Erin’s.

“The feeling is mutual,” he kissed her hand. “Very much mutual.”

Tags: @lostinthefandoms11 @honeybrowne

#ravi panikkar #ravi panikkar x oc #ravi panikkar x erin nash #ravi panikkar blurb #911 #911 x oc #911 blurb #911 fox

[liaromancewriter]

Underneath the Tree

Premise: Cassie is in the mood to spread some Christmas cheer and her loved ones are happy to help.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine). Feat. Sienna Trinh, OH Gang, Max Valentine (OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Warnings: Brief references to minor character deaths and grief Words: 2.8K

A/N: This is for the Nonny who requested a Christmas in July fic. It’s a story that I originally wanted to write last December, but couldn’t find the inspiration to start. Now I did. It’s set during the Book 2 timeline and events referenced in this pic fic.

Cassie Valentine could feel frustration rising as she scanned the selection of trees in the farm outside of Boston proper. They had been here for almost an hour now and she had rejected most of the offerings. Too skinny, too tall, too short, too je ne sais quoi.

This was the Roomies’ first Christmas tree and nothing short of perfection would do. Aurora had borrowed decorations from her aunt; Kyra had sent a box of candy canes; Elijah’s parents had couriered over customized Christmas ornaments, one for each of them.

Now all they needed was a tree to match the vision in her head. She didn’t remember it being this hard before when she and Jack would buy one for their apartment.

“I swear to god, scout,” Max grumbled after she completed another circle of the section that they were in. “If you don’t pick a tree in the next five minutes, I’m leaving you here to make your own way back.”

Cassie shot her twin brother an arched look and then sniffed before turning her back on him and hunching her shoulders.

“Nice try,” he scoffed. “That didn’t work when we were kids, and it doesn’t work now. Just ‘cause you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here.”

Giving him the cold shoulder, she continued to ignore him and walked over to check out a group of six-feet tall Douglas firs in the far corner.

“You know there’s no such thing as a perfect Christmas tree, right?” he continued talking in a whiny tone, determined to annoy her as only a brother could. “They all look the same and are just going to end up in a wood recycling shed at the end of the season, blown to smithereens.”

Cassie’s shocked gasp was as loud as it was dramatic. She swiveled to face him with accusation in her eyes and placed her hands on either side of the nearest tree as if covering a child’s ears.

“Don’t listen to the mean man,” she crooned to the tree. “You’re going to tree heaven where you can play with your friends and eat all the mulch you want.”

Recognizing how ridiculous she looked and sounded, Cassie burst out laughing, hugging the tree. Grinning, Max shook his ahead before he too was bent over with laughter.

“You’re such a jerk,” she said, swallowing her laughter when they started to attract weird looks from the other tree shoppers.

He just smiled, unoffended. “It’s frigging cold, sis. Can you please, pretty please with a cherry on top, pick a tree already so we can get out of here?”

Cassie made a face but didn’t argue. She stared at the tree she’d been hugging, tapping her gloved index finger against her lips, green eyes narrowing in consideration. The longer she looked at it the more she could visualize it in the corner of the living room in their apartment.

“This one,” she said definitively. “Final answer.”

Max went to get the owner and twenty minutes later they had the tree covered in burlap and tied to the top of the SUV. By the time they got back on the highway, Cassie had the volume cranked up and was belting out Christmas songs at the top of her lungs, much to her brother’s dismay.

They got lucky with parking as another vehicle pulled out right in front of her building. They climbed out of the car and Max stepped on to the running board to untie the tree.

“Here, let me help.” Farley walked down the steps, leaving the building entrance propped open. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for you ever since Sienna texted to say you were on your way back.”

With Farley’s help, they managed to get the tree down in no time at all and up the steps of the building. When the elevator doors slid open on their floor, Cassie walked ahead to unlock the apartment door, stepping aside as the men carried the tree inside and set it against the kitchen wall.

“It’s lovely,” said Sienna excitedly, clapping her hands together.

“It’s covered in burlap, Si,” Max snorted, rolling his eyes. “You can’t even tell what it looks like yet.”

Sienna’s brown eyes snapped in annoyance and she very studiously ignored him. Instead, she turned to hand Farley a paper bag and a to-go cup. “Thank you, Farley! You’re the best. If you run out of cookies, I’ll have plenty more later today.”

Farley stammered out a thanks and blushed as he often did when Sienna turned on the charm. Soon, it was just the three of them and Max took the scissors Sienna handed him to cut away the burlap.

“It’s beautiful!” cried Sienna, throwing a defiant, steely-eyed gaze at Max as the full tree came into view.

Cassie agreed and shared a look with Sienna. “And I know just the place for it.”

They directed Max this way and that, changing their minds several times just for the heck of it, both still smarting over his wisecracks earlier. He must have guessed this was their way of getting back at him and wisely kept his mouth shut, doing whatever they asked without complaint until they felt that he’d been punished enough.

“What’d you do to piss off the dolphins, Valentine?” called out Jackie with a smirk. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, a coffee mug in her hand, watching him work.

Before Max could fire back a retort, Elijah wheeled himself into the living room. “Cool tree.”

The doorbell rang then and soon the apartment was full of people and Christmas music was blasting from the Bluetooth speakers on the coffee table. Of the Roomies, Aurora was still missing, but she’d texted to say she was on her way back.

Rafael handed Sienna a tin full of his grandmother’s brigadeiros while Bryce and Keiki set their contribution down on the dining table, a Chocolate Haupia Cream Pie from a Hawaiian bakery they’d discovered in Charlestown. 

Cassie lined a platter with the macarons she’d baked yesterday, grabbed two bottles of red wine from the kitchen counter and carried both items to the table.

Max had parked himself on the couch and was scrolling through his phone when Sienna sat down next to him. He looked over as she put a plate of his favorite cookies on the coffee table in front of him and handed him a mug of hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and marshmallows by way of apology. 

She felt bad about how she had given him a hard time about the tree when he’d been so generous about getting it for them in the first place.

Cassie knew she hadn’t been fair either and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled at both of them before biting into a cookie and closing his eyes as the flavors exploded on his tongue. “Hmm. Consider yourselves paid in full.”

Soon after, everyone gathered around the tree and planned how they would approach the tree trimming. Bryce and Jackie bickered over whether the tinsel went first or last, each convinced the other was wrong, while Cassie negotiated a compromise.

Raf and Elijah riffled through the motley collection of decorations, putting aside what they could use. Aurora walked in a few minutes later, holding a nondescript box in her hands which turned out to be a mish mash of ornaments and tangled fairy lights.

Sienna was back in the kitchen, showing Keiki how to decorate the sugar cookies she’d baked earlier. Max leaned over the kitchen island to steal cookies, laughing when Sienna slapped his hand away with a severe look. He retaliated by dipping his finger in a bowl of whipped cream and smearing it on the tip of her nose and then her cheeks.

Cassie glanced over when she heard Sienna yelp, a vague disquiet spreading as she observed the quiet intimacy between her brother and her bestie; how they leaned towards each other, teasing and laughing, and the ease with which Sienna smashed a hand full of whipped cream all over his face.

She knew they were friends but for the first time she wondered if that was all.

When Aurora called her over to help with untangling the lights, she put the thought away to revisit later.

The mood in the apartment was loud and cheerful as everyone got into decorating the tree with gusto while munching on cookies and snacks, crumbs falling on the floor to be swept away later along with the debris from the tree trimming.

The tree was almost fully decorated with only the tinsel and lights left when they decided to take a break. They descended on the dining table like conquering heroes, helping themselves to thick sandwiches, pasta salad, chocolate-covered fruits and marshmallows, Santa and reindeer shaped cookies, and other tasty offerings.

Cassie speared the last of the chocolate-covered strawberries off Max’s plate, smirking when he protested, and tried to hide her reaction when Sienna gave him one from her plate. But her twin knew her too well and he glanced over, quirking one eyebrow to ask if she was okay. She nodded and turned away when Keiki asked her if she could try the wine, just to see what it tasted like.

Cassie didn’t see the harm, telling a horrified Bryce it was perfectly acceptable in Europe and should be fine here too. Enthusiastic at first about being treated like a grown-up, Keiki quickly turned her nose in disgust at the smell and almost spit out the sip she’d taken before bravely swallowing it down with a shudder.

“So, I guess I don’t have to worry you’re going to raid the liquor cabinet,” teased Bryce as Keiki chugged down water to get rid of the taste.

“You don’t have a liquor cabinet,” the teenager retorted in that snarky way Cassie found endearing and she gave her a one-armed hug.

Half an hour later, they assembled in front of the tree again. Max reached for his messenger bag and took out a small flat box.

“I brought something for all of you,” he said, flipping the box open to reveal two small red bells with golden stamps, each with a trailing, red ribbon. “To hang on the tree, if you’re open to it.”

Sienna and the others look confused, but Cassie met Max’s gaze, tears gathering in her eyes as she recognized the meaning behind the bells.

“Bells, like the ones in It’s a Wonderful Life? According to the movie, every time a bell rings, an angel gets their wings,” Raf said, taking one out of the box with a wide smile. “That was…” he stopped, sadness shading his face before he swallowed and continued. “Danny loved that movie. I remember he would watch it every holiday season with his family.”

Max nodded. “A friend of mine lost his father a couple of years ago and he told me about a tradition his family started at Christmas,” he said, taking the second bell out of the box and handing it to Sienna. “The idea is to close your eyes and listen to the ringing of the bells; their melody will remind you of all the good memories you have about the person you lost. I thought that you could hang them as ornaments on the tree, and ring them in remembrance of Danny and Bobby whenever you pass by the tree.”

Sienna continued to stare down at the bell in her hand, tears streaming unheeded down her cheeks. Cassie wrapped one arm around her and hugged her close. Eventually, Sienna pulled out of her embrace and resolutely stepped towards the tree. She looped the ribbon at the top of the bell around a branch and shook it lightly so that the twinkling melody of the bells rang out.

She turned towards Max and gave him a watery smile. “Thank you, Max. This was a very thoughtful gesture.”

He nodded solemnly, placing his hand atop hers and giving it a comforting squeeze.

One by one, the friends moved in, locking arms together and bowing their heads in memory of the friends and patients they had lost this year.

Determined to not let the evening end on a sad note, Cassie hip checked Jackie. “Are those tears in your eyes, Varma? Wow. Who knew Fuck It Varma was so sentimental over Christmas?”

Offended at the implication that she was soft, Jackie’s eyes snapped together as she shoved Cassie away. “Bite me, Valentine.”

“Girl on Girl action. Cool!” quipped Bryce making Aurora laugh and Keiki groan in embarrassment.

Suddenly the chirpy melody of “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree” rang out from the speakers and Max sighed dramatically when Cassie jumped in excitement and glanced his way.

“No way, sis.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re on your own.”

She pouted and reached for Sienna’s hand instead, both of them getting into the bouncy rhythm, giggling and laughing the whole time as they crashed into Aurora before pulling her into their impromptu dance routine.

Once again the mood was jovial and merry and they finished decorating the tree with lights and tinsel until all that remained was the star.

They were debating, quite heatedly at times, which of them was tall enough to take on that feat or barring that strong enough to lift one of them when the doorbell rang. Leaving the friends to figure it out, Max went to check who was at door.

“Ethan!” Max stepped aside to let the other man in. “Cassie said you were going to be in Providence today with your dad.”

“I was,” said Ethan, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck before pulling off the thick winter coat as they stood facing each other in the hallway. “I told your sister I’d try to drop by if I could get away early.”

Ethan heard the raised voices and lifted an eyebrow. “Are they having fun or fighting?”

“Honestly, with this lot it seems to be a bit of both,” confessed Max with a grin.

Cassie stopped mid-sentence as soon as Ethan walked into view and then she was rushing towards him to launch herself into his arms, inhaling his unique scent. “Hi, you made it!”

He nodded and leaned down to brush his lips across hers. “You said it was important to you, right?”

“Yes, it was,” she smiled. “Your timing is impeccable as always, Dr. Ramsey. We need a really tall man.” She leaned back in his embrace, running her eyes over his body. “And I would say you qualify.”

Taking his hand, she led him back to the group who, well used to him being in Cassie’s life by now, nodded and called out greetings. Cassie handed him a red and gold star and when he looked at the glittery object in confusion, Sienna took pity on him.

“It goes at the top of the tree,” she pointed to where the ornament went.

Following her direction, Ethan stepped forward, trying not to upset the various ornaments hanging off branches, and raised his arm to place the star at the top of the tree.

“Amazing. He didn’t even have to stretch on his toes,” Bryce mused, clapping Ethan on the back, a bit too hard so that he almost fell into tree. Luckily Max pulled him back in time, otherwise Ethan would have likely faced some very angry residents.

“Let’s light this baby up,” exclaimed Cassie, clapping her hands together when Elijah flipped the switch for the fairy lights.

Everyone gazed up at the beautifully, and whimsically, decorated tree brightening up the apartment with holiday cheer. Phones came out to capture this memory, but otherwise they basked in the glow of the lights and each other’s company. 

Bryce hugged Keiki to his side while Rafael placed one hand on his shoulder in solidarity. Aurora, Elijah and Jackie held hands, connected as one unit.

Cassie leaned back against Ethan and he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, kissing the side of her head before resting his chin on top of her sunny, blonde hair.

Sienna looped her arm through Max’s and they exchanged soft smiles. She mouthed ‘thank you’ and he nodded in acknowledgment. She leaned her head against his upper arm and watched the flickering lights as the bells twinkled lightly in the distance.

Cassie looked around the room at everyone she loved contentment such as she hadn’t felt in weeks rose to the surface. Despite everything that had happened this year, they were going to be okay. She was going to be okay. She had friends, she had family. She was blessed.

All Fics & Edits: @potionsprefect @trappedinfanfiction @bex-la-get @mysticalgalaxysstuff @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @jerzwriter @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @vi-writes-stuff @coffeeheartaddict2 @quixoticdreamer16 @dorisz @zahrachoices @lucy-268 @a-crepusculo @jamespotterthefirst @ofmischiefandmedicine @headoverheelsforramsey @takemyopenheart @gryffindordaughterofathena @queencarb @crazy-loca-blog @natureblooms24​

Ethan & Cassie only: @custaroonie @lady-calypso

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics​

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #sienna trinh #bryce lahela #jackie varma #open heart #open heart choices #playchoices #playchoices fanfics #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #sienna trinh x max valentine #christmas in july

[winksasleeplesseye]

File #011 - Epilogue

City of the Dead

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x OC

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: Having escaped Raccoon City, Amara, Leon, and Sherry now face their next biggest obstacle: the US Government. Deals are made, and lives are forever changed, but not without one last goodbye, for now.

Warnings: a tad bit of talk about religious trauma, some violence

Previous Chapter

The start of October started like any other October. Except for the four people who stood outside of Alien Coffee Motel. A chill came through the air that wasn’t there only hours ago. Leon and Amara stood back as Claire gave her goodbyes to Sherry. 

It was kind of inevitable that Claire would continue on her original path. Finding Chris was what she came to do and nothing could steer her otherwise. Amara understood that innate need to look after her sibling despite the disaster of a call she tried to make last night, had she been in Claire’s position, she’d searched high and low for Monet if she couldn’t find her. 

Maybe post….this, after she’d gathered more of her thoughts, she could give her another call.

Chris had rarely divulged all the parts of his life to Amara, but she knew that Claire was all he had. In that aspect, she envied that. Well, not the orphans part but the closeness that comes from relying on one another, Claire seemed the type to walk through fire for anybody but especially for Chris. 

“I’ll be back, I promise,” She hugged Sherry one last time. 

She walks over to Amara and Leon, an almost sad smile on her face. The former doesn’t hesitate to pull her in for a hug. “I’m sure you’ll find him, stay safe, alright?” Amara said, still clinging to her. 

“Same to you. All three of you.”

“Sherry is in good hands, trust me,” Leon reassured her. They waved her off, watching her walk away until she became a speck against the horizon from the direction they came from. 

Amara sighs. “I really hope she’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t worry, she’s tough. You both are,” Leon takes hold of her hand, his other holding Sherry’s hand. “Come on.” 

—-

They walked and walked for what felt like hours, a slight but earthy, balanced scent wafted the air. There was a definite undertone of car exhaust and skunk too. Helicopters flew by every few minutes. Cars sped past them, sending particles of dust and dirt toward them. A shiver ran down Amara’s exposed skin. Yeah, it’s definitely October. 

There is something about it that calmed Amara. Except for the exhaust and skunk, those were gross.

Abraham gave her a map of the city and the surrounding area. If she was right, if they kept on this way, they'd make it back near the other side of RC soon enough. 

A sinking feeling sat in her gut, but it was more like a rock. It wasn’t like they could even begin to discuss it all, Leon somehow seemed to pick up on that from her. Their brief, shared glances held more than just a simple look when Sherry asked them anything about the situation. It was better, in the long run, to protect Sherry from their side of the story, considering what Claire told them about the orphanage and Irons (out of Sherry’s earshot, of course), she didn’t need to shoulder the burden of two adults. 

Amara still needed to fucking shoulder it herself first anyway. Then there was Leon. 

In the morning, they got dressed, unmussing everything that had been mussed–in better-fitting clothes, thanks to Tabitha–and ate their first real meal in what had been days for Amara. The small boxes of stale Lucky Charms and one day out-of-date 1% milk were like a five-star dish to her stomach, that was for damn sure. The silence between them this time was more comfortable but there was a nagging inside her to ask him what this made them. 

Everything was a mess, and yet she was worried about labels. Shit, she needed to have her priorities straight. 

They had words for this sort of thing.

A few of them she liked while others annoyed her. What occurred over the course of those hours forged something that made them look past the banalities of life and the trivial decisions that come with it. No one else would probably ever understand the tough choices they all made within the depths of that lab, a shared trauma if she ever knew one. And then last night, Amara physically connected further with Leon in a way she hadn’t in a while with anyone. 

So she didn’t want to ignore it forever. Ignore the feelings he had pulled from her that left her feeling like time was yielding and all her dreams came true. 

She picked up on Leon’s silence as well. The last thing he’d really said was back at the motel, he seemed in deep thought since then. Amara wondered if he was thinking about things just as much as she was, she half expected him to utter at least one silly thing like the cheeseball he’d been occasionally down in the lab whilst they walked but she could definitely understand why he wasn’t. 

Thirty minutes went by before another set of cars broke over the horizon. In the middle of a particularly child-friendly conversation about adopting pets between Sherry and Amara.

“Hey, look!” Sherry pointed ahead of them. “Maybe they can give us a ride?”

Amara squinted into the distance, trying her damnedest to make out what the cars looked like. They were nothing but a blurry mirage, taunting her with their mystery. All she could tell was that they seemed a bit more uniform than your average line of cars, and maybe a tad bigger. But then again, what did she know? Probably just her imagination running wild.

As they got closer, she noticed the dark green of the paint, the boxy shape of the cars, those weren’t just regular cars. They were military. A convoy. Humvees, if she wanted to be more technical. Had Leon been right? 

She had known them like the back of her hand, seen plenty of them on bases before but they usually weren’t in motion. Not going that fast. Especially towards her. 

The trio stopped short in their tracks, Amara got closer to Leon, talking in a hushed tone. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

He looked at her, eyes darting between the cars and Sherry. Speaking up for the first time in a while, “It’ll be alright.” He squeezes her hand reassuringly. 

Amara smiles at that; she can’t help it. Smiling at him had become something like muscle memory to her: “I sure hope so,” she said, and for a moment she truly believed it. She believed that the convoy that had descended upon them would be their saving grace. That everything would be alright just because Leon said it would be. 

Guns. Shouts. Screams. 

At them. 

Guns pointing at them. 

The situation turned on a dime that made Amara dizzy. 

Heavily armed soldiers surrounded them in the blink of an eye. “Get on your knees, hands on your head!” One of the soldiers barked. All three complied, knowing that any sudden movements could be interpreted as a threat. 

Amara is sure her heart would leap out of her throat from how hard it was beating but she couldn’t show that. Even the slightest bit of fear is enough for misinterpretation for these assholes. 

She knew there was a reason she hated military types. Yes, even though she is also one in some regard. Even out and about or on nights out with Jill, they had—have a superiority complex and the need to do entirely too much. 

This display would go on her list as one of those instances. 

One of the soldiers, sidearm trained on them, held some weird device in his hand. He seemed hesitant to use it. 

“Where did you come from?” He asked, not putting down his gun for even a second.

“Raccoon City,” Amara answered, trying to keep her voice calm. “We were just trying to get out, get away from the outbreak is all.” 

The soldier, even behind a face covering, looked skeptical. “And where do you think you’re going?” 

Amara holds back the smart ass remark at the tip of her tongue, lest she gives the soldier more reasons to hit them in the head with the butt of his gun. She’d been holding back quite a lot of them as of late. 

“We were actually trying to find you,” Leon said. “Guess you found us instead.” 

The soldier, not appreciative of Leon’s words, pressed the device into the back of their necks. Starting with Leon. A green light popped up on the screen. “No infection detected,” an almost pleasant robotic voice announced. 

Shit.

Fuck. 

Shit. 

This is not going to turn out well. The second that device hits either her or Sherry’s neck. They’d know exactly what they are. Infected. Regardless of the cure and antiviral flowing through their blood, it couldn’t take away what had entered their system. 

The national guard must’ve been sent out in the aftermath of the outbreak to patrol surrounding cities, it’s the only logical conclusion that Amara can come to while staring down the barrels of semi-automatic rifles. 

Amara’s hazel eyes slowly settle on Leon. 

She finds his eyes already on her. The tension radiates off him in droves. 

There was no escaping this. The soldier held her firmly in place, she felt the cold prick of a needle briefly poke her flesh. She didn’t even hear the confirmation of what she already knew before they jerked her up on her feet. “They’re infected! Detain them now!” 

Sherry’s screams, tears, and look of sheer terror as they drag her away from both Amara and Leon are ones that she knows she’ll never rid herself of, she tries to fight to escape their grasp even as their vice grip on both her arms is unbreakable in her current state, digging their gear into her back and making it hard to breathe. 

She knows Sherry couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from them. They were all she had. 

“What the hell?” Leon shouts, he tries to rise to his feet but finds a soldier knocks him off balance, knocking the breath out of him momentarily, sending him right back down to the ground. “We just survived a damn zombie outbreak and…and this is how we’re treated…?” 

“Please don’t separate us,” Amara pleaded, even as she tried her hardest to drag her feet against the dirt, hoping to prolong the inevitable. “We’ve just been through hell, we can’t be separated now, please.” 

“Orders are orders,” one of the soldiers replied coldly. “Everyone is being detained until further notice.” 

So much for everything being alright. 

—-

“Your protocols, your orders—whatever—are bullshit, I just want you to know that,” Leon speaks out into the dark, a lone, yellowish light hung over his head and dust particles float in the air. He can just barely make out what is definitely a camcorder on the other side of the glass a few feet in front of him, judging by the lens. 

“Don’t note that for the record,” A man speaks over an intercom. He rolls his eyes, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for whatever comes next. 

He never usually was one to disrespect authority figures, holding them in high regard because they do something most others couldn’t handle, but after the display he’d seen with Amara and Sherry? 

Tough fucking luck getting any respect out of him. 

Leon’s leg had been bouncing nervously ever since he sat down, he’d been a clusterfuck since they’d detained them just outside…was it Crescent Springs? He never caught the exact name. 

All he knew was he wanted to kick his own goddamn ass for barely putting up more of a fight back there; but what exactly could he do against a bunch of armed soldiers? He was screwed over from the start. 

Jesus. 

Pfft. As if he was gonna do any good now. 

This was his figurative cross to bear. All that’s missing was the stakes. If his mother could hear him thinking like that, she’d have probably given him a light smack on his head and a punishment of soap in his mouth.

He tended to avoid Dial soap any chance he got now.

“Mr. Kennedy.” The same voice from before broke him out of his thoughts. “We have the authority to do as we please with you. And the girls.” 

There’s a sick twist in his gut at those words. Just what exactly did that entail? Becoming lab rats for the government for the rest of their lives? Killing him? Fuck that. 

“Leave them out of this, they’re innocents.” 

“Innocents who carry G antibodies. Don’t worry they’re receiving the best of care.”

“And what of me, then? Don’t suppose I have any value to you.” He doubts they’d keep a cop with only one day of experience under their watch. Leon’s thoughts gravitated towards thinking he’d outlived his usefulness more and more.

“Oh, but, Mr. Kennedy, you do. More than you think.” The man states plainly. “Bottom line is, you have the experience we’re looking for.” 

He wouldn’t exactly count surviving a zombie-infested city by the skin of his teeth as experience, probably just some great goddamn luck. “And if I say no?” 

“Considering you care so much about the girls…I’d think it’s in your best interest to accept this offer, should you not want any harm to come to them.” 

He can’t help his eyes as they set in a glare at those words. Is he threatening him? He wanted to be defiant, and go through with saying no but he feels like he knows the alternative. They’d deem them all as having outlived their usefulness, they certainly had no qualms about getting rid of two infected individuals 

They’d kill him. 

Kill Amara. 

Kill Sherry. 

And that was something he couldn’t live with. What good could he do to protect them from such a cruel fate if he was six feet under? 

Leon could be the buffer. The thing that is between them and living their life under a microscope. 

Shit. 

He’d do it to keep them safe. A little price to pay for their freedom. 

“So, if  you want this to end peacefully…you really only have one choice. Work with us.” 

—-

Amara hates hospitals. She hates them so fucking much, she can’t really put it into words whenever anyone asked her to explain herself. Well, hate is a strong word. Dislike is the safer word to use here. But could anyone blame her? Everything was so glaringly white and depressing. And the smell? The hand sanitizer, sterile packaging, coffee, floor cleaner, a hint of blood and fear. All of it combined just gave Amara a headache.

Hospitals are where most bad news was received. A doctor’s office at least tried to make the experience a little less depressing, though Amara’s positive, the colors of puke green and boring beige were now forever ruined for her, not that they weren’t already. 

Anxiety seeped into every aspect of Amara’s life, one physical manifestation being her newest habit, nail biting. She couldn’t exactly help it, being separated from Leon and Sherry and surrounded by doctors in hazmat suits didn’t help to relieve her nerves. The S.T.A.R.S. Team would surely be surprised to see the state she’s in, all of them were mostly level headed—utmost professionals in their respective roles but all of the new developments Amara had been through made her shake like a dog hearing fireworks on Fourth of July. 

She just wanted, goddamnit, for once to not be poked and prodded, examined under a microscope like she was in a Petri dish. She certainly missed Leon too. 

As she already knew, she’d been infected by William Birkin. So was Sherry. The scientists and the doctors didn’t let her forget that fact. They both carried G antibodies and so far, those effects were yet to be seen. She’d yet to see any government agents but she’s positive she’s seen them from the other side of the glass, observing, waiting for the right time to talk to her. That, or take her out, her two options didn’t scream that one or the other were the lesser of two evils. 

The right time by their standards happened to be today. Just as she’d gotten halfway through a bout of wallowing in self pity, something new for her.

“Miss Moore, I hope the staff have been treating you well?” One of the agents asks her. Graves is on their name tag pinned to their suit jacket. 

Amara fights a strong urge to roll her eyes. If this was the staff’s version of well, she shuddered to think what their bad treatment was. She shrugs before answering, “It’s been fine, can’t complain, can I?”

“You could, though I’m not sure anyone would listen,” the other agent answers, seemingly trying to lighten the mood. “I’m Agent Garcia, and this is Agent Graves. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. We also have a lot, as well as apologies for the scene back in the city.” 

“Apologies not accepted. Do you enjoy further traumatizing little girls?” The picture of Sherry’s face, covered in fear, wouldn’t leave her mind. 

“Look, we had to be sure—“

Amara cuts him off, her voice a bit more biting than she’d like. “We weren’t zombies? I don’t know how many people you’ve seen in your life but we are very much intact.” 

Agent Garcia seems to chuckle, Agent Graves seems unimpressed with her rage, a glare morphing into an arrogant smirk, tilting his head curiously at her.

“Miss Moore, you seem to think you hold any position of leverage in how this conversation is going to go.”

Yeah, she fucking hates this guy. 

“Don’t I?” 

Amara is not at all shocked at what Graves is implying. She returns a sickeningly sweet smile back at him, though on the inside, she’s cursed him out many times over. Surviving Raccoon City was no easy feat, but it was a tad naive on her part to think the government would just let them go after everything. But this Graves guy thought he held all the chips in play, he was sadly mistaken. 

“Well—“ Garcia starts to say, but his partner quickly cuts him off, a quick wave of his hand in front of him that pisses Amara off. He must be a real hit at parties. 

“You and the girl carry G antibodies. We can do whatever we please with the both of you, you know that, right?”

“She’s an innocent. Leave her out of this.” 

“Don’t worry, they’re going to take good care of her.” 

“And what of Mr. Kennedy?” It felt strange using such a formality for Leon, but they didn’t deserve to hear his name from her lips. 

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about either of them. You need to be more concerned with your next steps.” 

“What? You going to kill me now?”

“Oh no, you’re far more useful to us alive. The doctors tell us that the G in your system has made you far more resilient than any human, in fact, we couldn’t kill you that easily if we tried.” The grin Graves wears is slimy, she feels gross just being witness to it. “You have the makings of an agent, seeing as you were a…STARS operative, was it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Everything else is figured out. All that really leaves is you…if you want this to end on good terms, the choice is simple unless you’d like to spend the rest of your life in a lab.” 

Her mind drifted when faced with an ultimatum. When this all began, she thought things would be simple…in a more perfect world, maybe they would’ve been. 

The case would’ve been cut and dry. But then Roslynn unknowingly—in extension, maybe John too—had brought Amara into something that was way above her pay grade, her capacity to handle. 

One woman—team—up against a whole corporation, and a cover up. That was damn near impossible. 

Now her own government wanted her to work with them but not on the merit of her skills (despite what Graves said), but because if anymore got out about Raccoon City, it’d paint them in such a light that they’d never recover from. 

She got into this for a reason, this line of work was never going to be a walk in the park. When faced with the other alternative, the metaphor of the Petri dish looked more and more terrifying. A life lived under a microscope, being poked and prodded, watched essentially like a spectacle was no life at all. 

Christ, she didn’t want that for herself nor Sherry. They hadn’t asked for this. 

This was the better option, strategically. 

Not to mention, keeping Sherry and Leon safe. No doubt she’d work out those conditions later but doing this secured their safety, right? 

Fighting the people who did this to her and continue to do this to others made it more than worth it. But there’d be a cost. There always was.

—-

October 5, 1998. 

It’d been a few days, the colors of fall had become more and more obvious to everyone. The vibrant reds, oranges, and yellow blended together to make what most would call the most beautiful time of year, not only that, but the weather dropped significantly. 

Leon would’ve liked to be happy about the change in weather but something about it reminded him too much of what had only transpired only days ago. The freezing, torrential downpour and the chill in the air aren’t nice at all. Another part of him still couldn’t actually believe that it was only days ago and yet life still moved on, a jarring reminder that outside of Raccoon City, most were unaware of it all. 

He wished he could be like them. Blissfully ignorant, numb to it all. With time, he’d probably get good at that. Going blank, thinking of nothing because it was so fucking much to think of everything. 

Leon clung tighter to his jacket, he probably should’ve opted for something heavier as the wine was like a blunt force against his face. 

His eyes were on a constant swivel. Technically, he should've been in training but the second he even got word from his “new” superiors and clearance, he knew he wanted to see her. See them both. Still, he couldn’t help but have that bundle of nerves twisting in his stomach. 

Things moved so quick after he agreed to be part of their program. Agreed isn’t the right word—more like coerced—but he really didn’t want to dwell on it further.

The military hospital sat a little outside New York City. It served civilians and servicemen alike. Mothers and their children sat in the waiting room, men in their uniforms filling out paperwork, a couple of nurses were doing triage and checking in patients at a mobile desk.  

It teemed with more personnel today, Leon looked out of place in his jeans and T-shirt. 

“Uh, hi,” Leon greeted the receptionist at the desk with a small smile, she looked up at him briefly before going back to her computer. “I’m here to see Amara Moore? And Sherry Birkin?”

The whole room paused. Well, at least it felt that way. His words definitely made the receptionist give her full attention.

“Mr. Kennedy?” 

He nodded in response. 

“If you’ll give me just a moment, it’s protocol for that department to go through a few hoops, I’ll be right back, alright?” 

Protocol. He’d become so fucking tired of hearing that word.

“Of course, I’ll take a seat then,” Leon dropped unceremoniously in the nearest chair as the receptionist stepped away to presumably call whoever she needed to call. 

Leon lets the sounds of the conversations around him and the announcements over the intercom become background noise to his thoughts.

Considering now that it’s a waiting game. And he hates waiting. He just wants to see after everything, is that so hard? The red tape and hoops to jump through just to sit down and talk to someone. 

He had been thinking about that night at the motel more than he liked to admit. He wasn’t kidding with himself when he thought himself to be a late bloomer, he wasn’t a virgin by any means but he certainly was a bit inept when it came to sex. 

It didn’t help that his parents raised him on the tenets of their faith. Which meant no sex before marriage, no drinking, no swearing, no taking the Lord’s name in vain. Anything of that nature is pretty much deemed unholy and impure. Expected to be living in one set way because God has a plan for all of them. God forbid they’d miss a church service or forever be the shame of the neighborhood. 

He’d long abandoned it. He’d long been a sinner anyways. Not exactly sure that a benevolent, loving God would have a plan to let someone suffer this much. Putting his faith in others is still a mixed bag but that was for another day. 

Amara was just about the sweetest taste of sin he’d ever had, skin as smooth as silk and lips as sweet as honey. 

As far as worship, he’d kneel at the altar of Amara Moore in communion as long as she’d let him. 

Ineptitude, notwithstanding. 

But, right now, he just wants them to hurry up…this bag of food hidden in his jacket can’t hold out much longer. He isn’t sure she’ll be able to eat it with all the rules but he thinks she probably needs some normalcy. 

Well, as normal as one could get. Completely normal left the realm of possibility when everything came to light. 

“Mr. Kennedy?” He looks up to find a doctor standing by the desk. 

Here goes something. 

—-

Amara really wants to just get out of here. Ever since Graves and Garcia left, she’d been waiting on word about transport. She hasn’t seen Sherry either, she really hopes she’s alright. 

The hospital door slides open, Amara doesn’t have it in her to even want to see who it is. Probably another damn nurse, another damn doctor. 

“You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to be a smuggler around these parts.” 

A bag drops between her legs, leaving a dent in the blanket. A greasy, brown crinkled bag that reeked of high-fat high sodium cheesy goodness. In more simple terms, a cheeseburger. 

Amara looks over to Leon. He’s dressed more casual and way cleaner than she’d seen him. Still as dreamy as ever. 

“You’re a real sight for sore eyes, handsome,” Tears begin to form, blurring her vision just a bit. Leon looks less clear, more splotchy. She doesn’t want something as silly as tears to block her view of Leon but a burst of joy swelled in her chest. She pushes down the surge of emotion as Leon places a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“If I knew junk food makes you cry like this, I’d—“ 

“No, no, thank you, thank you for this!” She opens the bag and, to hell with being ladylike, stuffs her face. 

The taste on her tongue is better than anything. Better than the bland MREs they’d been giving her, she’d suffered enough of those for 15 years. 

Between bites, she gestures for Leon to sit down, using the napkins in the bag to wipe her eyes. He sits carefully on the bed across from her. 

“Hope…you don’t think I’m apologizing for…this,” Amara jokes, moving herself from underneath the hospital covers. At least she’d had the sense to put on the sweatpants they gave her. 

“I wouldn’t want you to, even if you tried.” He still looks at her as if she’d hung the moon and the stars in the sky, even as he wipes the dribble of the ketchup that ran down the side of her mouth. “How are you doing?”

She cleans up her mess, focusing solely on Leon now. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I asked you first.” 

“I asked you second.” 

He chuckles, “I’m doing fine, all things considered.” 

“Well now that you’ve told me that, I can say I’m surviving. A little better now that you’re here,” she takes his hand, taking it to her lips to kiss it briefly. There’s a short silence before Amara asks him about something she’d been thinking about a lot of for the past few days. 

“So…uh, did you see about Racc-“ 

There’s a pained expression on his face as he cuts her off. “Yeah.” 

By October 1, the very day they’d been detained, the situation in Raccoon City had become uncontrollable, and for some reason, the President of the United States authorized the bombing of the city. No hope of any survivors. Except them.

Her whole life in the city now burned to ashes, reduced to nothing. Leon’s promise of new life there too. 

“Guess I can finally say this….thank you, Leon.” She’s not sure if that’s something he wants to hear but she says it anyway. He had to know that his efforts weren’t unnoticed despite it all. 

He shakes his head in disagreement. “I don’t think you should be thanking me.”

“Why not? You did save my life, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but look at where we are now…if I had known this would’ve been the outcome…” Leon sighs, running a hand through his hair. She imagines if he’d been standing, he’d pace the floor. 

She gets exactly where he’s coming from. All too well actually. From escaping the city to now, this was certainly the last thing she’d ever expected. But this is how things were now and they had to learn to live with it. 

She places a hand on his leg, bringing his attention back to her. “Leon, fucked up circumstances aside, you saved me from something way worse. With a bullet in your shoulder, no less. If it weren’t for you or Claire, both Sherry and I would have turned into monsters. We’d have been dead. You have to give yourselves some credit, at least.” 

“I know, but—“

“Things look like shit right now, I know.” A wistful expression stole its way onto Amara’s face. “But—look, I don’t know what those G-men told you about me or even if they made you any promises or whatever, but I’d like to think right now we both made decisions that sucked but in the end…they’re right.” 

If Amara was being honest with herself, it hurt to even say that. The toughest decisions never did make anyone feel like a million bucks. 

Leon looks as though he could break into a million pieces, looking the way she felt. If she could read his mind she’s sure she’d hear him thinking the same as she was. I don’t want them to be right, I’d wish we made the wrong choices.

“None of this is ideal. But on the bright side, I can eventually tell the government to go fuck itself, right?” Amara attempts to lighten the mood, but Leon still holds just about the saddest look in his eye as he tries to laugh. 

“This is a goodbye, isn’t it?” Leon asks, holding her face in his hands. His thumbs running over her cheeks briefly. She smiles only for a moment, there was no really insulting his intelligence. 

Amara had long known she hated goodbyes. They were too final. She’d dealt with so many before, they’d left a bad taste in her mouth so she never made it a point to say it. She didn’t even know what the future held for Leon or for herself but she didn’t want to just assume the worst, she wanted to hold onto the small sliver of hope that while it seemed their paths were diverging, they’d cross again. 

“Never. I don’t believe in goodbyes, you should know that about me,” Amara responded, placing her forehead against his. “Just think of this as a see you later, how does that sound?” 

“That sounds…perfect to me, Amara.” He sighed again. “Really perfect.” He kissed her softly, then kissed her again with a fervor, making it more than clear he’d been trying to savor the taste of her. Amara was doing the same, wrapping herself around him, not caring where they were as the world faded away even for just a moment. 

The door slid open once again, signaling that the real world had come crashing back in. She pulled away from Leon slowly, drinking in every single part of him, his eyes, his face…everything. 

She didn’t want to forget a single detail. 

“You should get going.…I love you,” she whispered the one crucial thing she’d been holding onto since the lab, and kissed him once again. “I love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I love you so much.” He peeled himself reluctantly away from her, heading toward the door, towards Graves and Garcia as they watched the scene in front of them. “I’ll see you later.” 

“I know,” she called, watching him head out the door before she finally burst into tears.

Little did they know, their sense of timing would be so different from one another. 

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #oc amara webb #leon scott kennedy #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #re2 remake fic #leon kennedy x black oc #leon kennedy x oc #Leon kennedy x mixed race oc #mixed race oc #cotd fic

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

Will and Bex: ROOMIES! (Chapter Two)

Summary: This is Part Nine of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Part One was Oopsie Baby which you can read here.

Part Two was Promises Kept which you can read here.

Part Three was Stop Adopting My Friends which you can read here.

Part Four was If You Give a Mouse a Cookie which you can read here.

Part Five was Now Kiss! which you can read here.

Part Six was Where There's a Will which you can read here.

Part Seven was First Rule of Game Night which you can read here.

Part Eight was A Fun Fair, an Alleged Flirtation, and a New Living Arrangement which you can read here.

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz, Jay Halstead/Erin Lindsay, Pre-Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes

Warnings: Sibling Fighting (but they all make up), relationship angst, a car accident with minor injuries

A/N: I'll post the link to the ao3 page at the bottom. This story has not only an OC character, but some quirky elements which may or may not be everyone's jam. Just FYI. Updates will be slow coming as I pick away at them during breaks from work. I couldn't take a full break from this though - I'm too excited to write it so I made working on this series my reward for when I get stuff done, lol

Click here for Chapter One

Chapter Two

Bex finished boxing up the chocolate turtle cookies and shoved them in her bag. She was just about to head out the door when something on the living room table caught her eye: Will’s phone. She scooped it up with a sigh. He was lucky she was on her way to her volunteer shift at the hospital and not one of her other jobs.

***

Maggie

The ED was hectic on a good day, but today they were getting slammed. Even Maggie was feeling the frayed edge pull of too many patients and not enough hands on deck. She needed a break. And a snack. And no one asking anything of her for five minutes.

“Maggie?”

She bit back a sigh as Leah poked her head in from the waiting room. “Yes?”

“Is Dr. Halstead around? His sister is here looking for him.”

“Bex? Is she okay?” Maggie rushed over to the door, hoping nothing serious had happened to Will’s little sister. She didn’t know her that well, but Will had been full of stories lately. It was seeing Big Red smile like that.

“Pretty sure she’s fine,” Leah said, setting Maggie at ease. “Just has something to drop off that apparently can’t be left at the desk.”

Maggie spotted Bex standing off to the side of the waiting room desk and headed over. “Bex?”

Bex turned and a relieved smile bloomed on her face. “Maggie! I was hoping it would be you.”

“Okay?” Maggie laughed, a little confused, but not turning away a greeting like that after the morning she’d had.

“Will forgot his phone at home,” Bex said, rummaging through her bag. “Would you mind giving it to him?” She pulled out a phone and a plastic container and passed them over.

“He forget his lunch too?” Maggie tapped the container in her hands.

“Oh, no,” Bex said. “That’s for you. I had a feeling you’d be the first one. Enjoy! I hope your day gets better!”

And with a little wave, she left.

Maggie watched her walk away, more than a little confused about what just happened. She peeked inside the container and her eyes widened. She hurried back into the ED before Leah could ask any questions.

Spotting Will, she made a beeline over to him and handed him his phone. “Bex brought this for you.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” He shoved it into his pocked with a sigh. “Is she still here?” His eyes darted down to the container in her hands. “Is that—”

“Mine.” Maggie held the container to her chest firmly and backed away, warding him off with her free hand.

“Mags!”

“Nope,” she shook her head. “I have earned these today. Get Bex to make you your own.”

He pouted for half a second before being pulled away for another patient. Maggie told April she was taking five and slipped away to the lounge. She tucked the container into her locker, but slipped one of the treats out first. She held the cookie in her hand and took a deep sniff, inhaling the chocolate-caramel goodness. Chocolate turtle cookies. All for her.

She had another minute before someone was going to come looking for her, but, good lord was she going to enjoy it.

***

After that, it was like the Med cookie gates were wide open.

***

Sarah

She couldn’t do this. She was terrible at…people.

Why did they have to work in different departments if they knew where they wanted to end up. Pathology was the right place for her. She knew that deep in her soul. She couldn’t accidentally hurt someone in pathology.

Sarah sighed into her drink as the noise of Molly’s swelled around her. She didn’t know why she’d let herself be convinced to come out tonight either. She wasn’t exactly in the mood to have people tell her she’d get the hang of it all eventually.

A box plopped down on the counter in front of her. “Here you go.”

She looked up to see the bartender—Dr. Halstead’s sister…Bex?—staring at her with an expectant smile from the other side of the bar. “What is that?” Sarah eyed the box suspiciously.

“Relax,” Bex laughed. “It’s cookies.” She nudged the box forward. “For you.”

“Why.”

“Sometimes the world just gives you cookies,” Bex shrugged. “Roll with it.”

Sarah frowned at her. That definitely explained nothing. But she carefully pulled the box toward her and took off the lid. And instantly snapped her head back up to Bex. “Are these raspberry linzer cookies?” she demanded. They looked like they might be. The shapes were a bit wonky.

“Well, they’re supposed to be,” Bex winced a bit. “I don’t think I got them totally right.”

The other bartender—Otis?—leaned in to peek inside the box. “I don’t think stars are supposed to be that round, Bex.”

“Hey,” Sarah put a protective arm around the box. “She did her best.”

“I’ll get better at them next time,” Bex said, unbothered by the man’s teasing. “Try, try again, and all that.”

Sarah took a cookie out for a careful bite. They weren’t the cutest, not the like ones her mom always made, but they certainly tasted good.

Try, try again. Okay, fine. She could take a hint.

***

Natalie

She strode into the doctor’s lounge and leaned her head against her locker, taking a moment to just breathe.

In and out.

In and out.

Every fibre of her being was exhausted. Between work and Owen, she felt like she was giving every ounce of her energy to everyone but herself.

She loved her job. She loved her son.

But sometimes, she felt like she was getting lost in it all.

Losing herself.

She looked up as the door to the lounge opened and Will’s sister Bex poked her head in. “Oh! Sorry. Will said I could wait for him in here, but I’ll go somewhere else.”

“No, it’s fine,” Natalie began, ready to make space for someone else. Again.

Bex gave her a measured look and then a gentle smile. “It’s no problem,” she said. “Seriously, I’m sorry for intruding. But before I go—” She pulled a container out of her bag and stepped inside to place it on the counter. “Those are for you, okay?” And then she ducked back out again.

Natalie shook her head. That was random. But curiosity got the better of her and she walked over to check out the container.

It was cookies. White chocolate macadamia nut cookies.

She hadn’t had them in years. Jeff hadn’t liked them and neither did Owen so she never had them in the house.

But they were her favourite.

Natalie sighed and picked a cookie out of the container.

Hers.

***

Daniel

He loved to people watch.

Especially in the morning on a sunny day like today when he had time to drink a coffee before heading into work.

Just sit on a shady bench and watch people living their lives.

The woman rushing down the sidewalk as she spoke sharply into her phone, neatly picking her way through the crowd.

The man on the corner stopping with his toddler to examine the flowers in the hospital garden.

The teenagers lined up at the coffee cart, pushing and shoving each other as they joked around.

Sometimes inside the hospital, it felt like there was five losses for every win.

Sometimes, he needed to sit out here to remind himself that forever five losses they had in there, countless people were out here, living their lives. Carrying on through the randomness of it all.

He loved people.

A young woman rushed past him, obstructing his view for a moment before stopping, turning on her heel, and heading back towards him.

“Hi, Dr. Charles, these are for you.”

He looked up to see Dr. Halstead’s sister, Bex, holding out a box to him. “For me?”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a smile before rushing off again.

“Hunh.” He set his coffee down on the bench and opened up the box.

Shortbread cookies. Perfect, round, little buttery shortbread cookies.

“Well, how about that.”

He loved people.

***

Doris

She was about ready to stand on a chair and yell at every single one of her co-workers.

Honestly. She was the first person to pass around a card or buy someone a drink—

“Doris?”

She whipped around to see Dr. Halstead standing behind her with a plastic container in his hands.

“A little birdy told me to give this to you,” he said, passing it over.

She looked inside and gasped. “Butter pecan cookies? I love those!” She clutched at his arm, feeling at least fifty percent less murderous than she had a few moments before. “Thank you! I was beginning to think no one had remembered my birthday!”

Dr. Halstead gave her a wide-eyed smile. “Oh, ah…of course not! I could never forget!” He patted her hand and stepped away. “Happy Birthday, Doris! I gotta…patient…”

Doris shook her head and smiled, giving the box a little shake. What a sweetie. She was definitely going to have to text Bex a thank you. “April! Maggie! Come help me eat these birthday cookies. Yeah, that’s right. Birthday.”

***

April

Some days, you just knew.

Everything was going to be awesome.

April didn’t like to jinx herself, but from the moment she woke up, she just had a feeling: it was going to be a great day.

First her breakfast was delicious (thank you, Ethan), then traffic was great and she made it work in plenty of time, and then miracle of miracles, it was a regular old day in the ED. Sure there was blood and other bodily fluids, but nobody died. Nobody yelled at her.

People thanked her.

So of course, when Maggie and Doris wanted to head to Molly’s, she said yes. Why would she want such a good day to end?

She walked through the door and Dr. Halstead’s sister Bex was working the bar. She took one look at April and pointed a finger at her, before crooking it to beckon her over.

“I was beginning to think these wouldn’t have a home until you came through the door,” Bex said before setting a box on the counter.

By now, everyone at Med was starting to catch on to the whole cookie thing so April didn’t even bother to hide her grin. “For me?”

Bex nodded, returning her smile.

April cackled a little as she dove into the box. Key lime goodness.

Absolute heaven.

Some days, you just knew. And it was awesome.

***

Ethan

Ethan nearly went the other way when he saw Halstead’s sister waiting outside of the hospital. He settled for trying to walk by quickly with a polite nod.

“Dr. Choi!” she called after him and he bit back a sigh when he turned to see her with a box in her hands.

“Bex, right?” he asked as she hurried over to him. “Listen, this is very sweet, but…I’m not really a cookie guy?”

“Actually,” Bex said, popping open the lid of the box to display its contents. “These are protein bites. They’re made with all natural ingredients and they’re supposed to be a really tasty and healthy snack.” She resecured the lid with a smile. “I knew they could only be meant for one person.”

Bex shoved the box into his hands and then patted his shoulder. “Enjoy!” Then she was off, jogging over to the doors as Will emerged, already talking his ear off before he’d said hello.

Okay, then.

Guess he was trying out protein bites.

***

‘Multi-vehicle collision. Lincoln and Clark. CPD on the scene. Squad 3, Ambulance 61, Engine 51, Truck 81.’

***

Bex

For the rest of her life, Bex would maintain that the cookies caused the accident. Those little bastards had their own agenda.

***

Kelly

He surveyed the scene, cataloging and triaging everything in his brain so he could figure out how to best use his crew. Scanning the many wrecked vehicles, his eyes stopped on one in particular.

That friggin’ trash heap of a car.

Bex’s car.

Trapped between a pick-up truck and a cement construction partition, looking beat to hell.

“Casey,” he murmured, catching his friend’s attention and nodding over at the car in question. Casey’s eyes widened before he looked around for Herrmann who thankfully was busy helping to put out a smoking engine further up the site.

Years of working together had their shorthand down to a fine art. “Check it out?” Casey asked, raising his eyebrows at him and Kelly nodded. Better for him and the rest of the squad to see what the situation was before having Herrmann walk in on something he shouldn’t see.

Even if it meant Kelly had to see it.

He gathered up his guys and they jogged over to the car.

“Kim, I’m fine,” Bex’s voice drifted out from the vehicle and he grinned at how solidly cranky she sounded. He could barely make her out through the spiderwebbed cracks in the windshield, but her voice was strong. “I can crawl through the window and be out of here in two seconds.”

“Bex, you’re bleeding.” Kim snapped back and that wiped the smile off of his face.

“Burgess, Tay,” he called out. “Clear out for a sec so we can see what we’re working with.”

He hopped the barrier and peered in through the broken driver’s side window. Bex stared back at him, blood dripping down the side of her face from a cut in her hairline, but otherwise looking okay.

“Hey, kid,” he said, grinning as he leaned in to survey how tight of a spot she was in. The sooner they could get her out, the better.

“Kelly,” she exclaimed. “I swear this was not my fault—”

“Bex, I know,” he said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Drunk driver ran a red light. Nothing any of you could have done.”

“I think the cookies had something to do with it,” she muttered, glaring at her bag.

And if he didn’t know Bex, that statement definitely would have had him concerned about a head injury. As it was—“Let’s get you out of there, okay?”

“Hey, do you think the Tin Can is salvageable?”

Any response he had to that insane question was cut off by the shouts of both Herrmann, noticing Bex’s car, and Halstead, arriving on the scene and rushing their way.

***

Will

“Last ambo from the accident scene coming up,” Maggie called out as Will emerged from treatment room three. They’d been lucky on this one. No catastrophic injuries. Hopefully this final patient from the scene would keep that trend going.

Maggie let out a little gasp as she caught sight of the stretcher being brought in. “Will, it’s Bex.”

“What?” He rushed forward to see Shay pulling a stretcher in holding Bex who had a bandage on her head and dried blood all down her neck and shirt.

“Will, I’m totally fine,” she said as soon as she saw him. “Don’t freak out, please. We don’t need three of you.”

“Last time I checked, you weren’t a doctor,” Chris snarked from his position on her left side, Jay nodding on her right.

“Let’s just let Ethan take a look at you, okay?” Will grabbed her leg and gave it a squeeze before sharing a concerned look with Chris and Jay. “Just to make sure.”

***

Sam

It was a toss up as to what was more irritating.

Examining doctors or examining the family members of doctors.

“Do you think we should get a CT scan, just in case? Maybe keep her overnight for observation? Are you sure there’s no concussion?”

“No, no, and yes.” The same answer he’d given three times already. “For the last time.”

“Will, relax,” the girl laughed, poking at Dr. Halstead who looked about as relaxed as the two men behind him. “Dr. Abrams is the expert and he said I’m all good. Let’s trust the man.”

“I am the expert,” he agreed. “And I’m leaving now.”

“Wait,” the girl lurched forward and all three men beside her tensed. “Chris pass me my bag, please.”

“I really must—” Sam tried to make his exit once again only to find his wrist wrapped up in a firm grip.

“Just one second,” the girl muttered, digging through her bag with her other hand before pulling out a box. “Here you go.”

Sam stared down at the box. “What is that.”

“Cookies!”

“That’s entirely unnecessary.”

“Listen,” she pushed the box into his hands. “These are brown butter malted chocolate chunk cookies with crispy edges that survived a car accident just to get to you. Take them.”

“Okay.”

And then he made his exit.

Halfway back to his office he popped off the lid and tried one of the cookies.

…maybe this one doctor’s family member wasn’t so irritating.

***

Bex

It had been a few weeks since the car accident and Chris and Jay may have relaxed a bit, but Will was still trying to baby her.

“We don’t have to go for a run today, Bex,” he said, hovering by the door, anxiously watching as she tied her shoelaces. “You should be taking it easy. We can start again next week.”

“Will, I’m good! Ethan said I was good to go last week! I want to get back into our routine! Come on!”

It took a bit more prodding, but she finally got him out the door and out to the park. He started off their run slowly…ridiculously slowly. She kept upping their speed, teasing him about being a slow old man, until they were finally back at their regular pace. The longer they ran, the more relaxed he became.

Finally.

She didn’t know how long he could continue functioning while that tightly wound.

Eventually, they hit the end of their usual route and Bex shot him a sideways look. “Pole by the fountain?”

“Winner does the victory dance!” Will yelled before taking off.

***

Connor

The last thing Connor had expected to see when he’d headed out for his run that morning was Will Halstead twerking in the park.

And yet…

“Nice moves, Dr. Halstead,” he called out and chuckled when Will nearly fell over. His sister Bex, who had absolutely seen him coming, shot him a little grin.

“Morning, Dr. Rhodes,” she said. “I didn’t know you ran here too.”

“Will told me there were some nice trails here,” he said, stretching out a leg and sneaking a glance at a red-faced Will beside them. “Didn’t realize the views would be quite so interesting though.”

“Oh, my god,” Will dragged a hand down his face as Bex dissolved into giggles. “It’s all her fault.” He pointed at his sister who nodded with glee.

“We always do a little race to the finish line and the winner gets to do a victory dance,” she explained. “I like to let Will win because well,” she waved a hand at her still blushing brother. “You saw his moves. I have to give the people what they want.”

“Let me win?” Will exclaimed. “What’s the tally again? Letting me win. Hah. Come on, we’ll go again and see who’s letting who win.”

Bex cackled as Will got her in a headlock and Connor couldn’t help laughing at their antics. Must be nice having family like that. Family you could tease without it devolving into pointed barbs aimed for your weakest points.

“Hey, are you all done with your run?” Bex asked, freeing herself from Will’s hold and pulling Connor out of his thoughts. “Did you park around here?”

“Yes,” Connor said before pointing at the lot to their left. “And I’m right over there.”

“Oh, good! We are too. Come on.” She headed toward the lot without looking back.

“It’s best if you just follow before she comes back to herd you,” Will said, motioning for Connor to go ahead. “Surprised you left your fancy car in an unguarded lot like this.”

“If it gets stolen, I can always buy a new one.” Connor shrugged, knowing it would get Will going.

“Rich boys and their toys,” Will shook his head. Right on cue.

“Hey, I—”

Bex bounded back over to them, cutting off what was going to be a highly witty retort. Probably.

“These are for you!” She passed him a box and he grinned, clueing in to what was happening.

“Why, Bex, are these cookies? For me?”

“Really friggin’ fancy cookies,” she said. “So I knew they had to be yours.”

Connor ignored Will’s snort.

“Well, thank you, I’m sure they’ll be delicious.” He peeked inside and blinked at the perfectly formed macarons inside. Vanilla bean from the smell of them. “Whoa, those are fancy.” He was pretty excited to dive right in.

“The cookies know best,” she said with no further explanation.

“We should probably get going,” Will said, nudging Bex back toward the parking lot. “Enjoy your cookies, Rhodes.”

And suddenly, eating those fancy cookies alone felt like the last thing he wanted to do. “Hey,” he called out to them. “There’s, uh, a coffee cart back there? Want to get some drinks and help me eat these?” He lifted the box hopefully. “My treat.”

Bex waggled her eyebrows at Will who rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

“Oh, because eating my cookies is such a hardship, Will. How will you choke them down with all of the free coffee?” Bex razzed him as they returned to Connor’s side.

The jokes continued flying as they got their coffee and found a nice hill to sit on. Half an hour later, Connor knew two things:

That was the best morning he’d had in a while.

And Will Halstead had a dangerous smile.

Click here for Chapter Three.

Click here for Chapter Four.

(Here is the link to read Will and Bex: ROOMIES! on ao3.)

#chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd #one chicago #christopher herrmann #jay halstead #will halstead #halstead brothers #oc character #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #halstead sister #sibling bonding #found family #team as family #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #alternate universe #not canon #not beta read #my first fanfic series #A Herrmann/Halstead Production

[mysticalmayhem1930]

A Tale of Two Weddings: Midgardian Mayhem

A Loki x Eva (OC) story

Part Three of Loki’s Dragon

>>Part Thirty Three: Epilogue <<

A/N I don’t own any of the Marvel characters. Just my own creations. This was originally posted in Wattpad. But I rewrote the parts as I transferred them, so there are some differences.

Summary: The finale just wrapping up some stuff

Thank you to all who read and enjoyed this story I had a lot of fun and other emotions while writing it.

Pairing: I originally wrote this as Loki x Eva but it can be read as Loki x Reader if you desire.

Link to previous chapter

Link to Masterlist

Credit to artist

Overall Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Adult Language

>>>18+ ONLY<<

Loki learned fast how to care for Matthias. From changing him to bathing him. He did everything in his power to give his wife time to recover, from as Eva put it delivering a watermelon. Matthias was 14 lbs 3 oz and 30" long. After getting home from the hospital and settling their son into his routine Loki spent hours with his son, often taking him for walks in the stroller, after the first time he made sure that Eva was with him, he was stopped by at least ten women cooing at how cute the little boy was and how much he looked like his father. At least five of them pressed their phone number into his hand. Eva especially liked watching as Loki prepared him for bed, there was bath time, and story time. Loki told his son altered versions of his Asgardian fairy tails where the Jotun were not monsters. Occasionally Eva heard him singing Asgardian lullabies. Loki would listen as Eva did the same sharing her fairy tales and lullabies. Matthias would only know love from his family and extended family. Loki's patience with his son was astounding. After the birth Loki put a glamour on him that also changed his temperature jus like his daddy.  They preferred at home for both boys to be Jotun. An unexpected side affect of the birth was Eva's skin was left with the pale blue hue. So she even had a glamour when they went out as well.

Stephen stopped by at least once every few days to check on both of them. The little boy while enamored with his dad, loved his uncles, he was constantly giggling when they came over. Thor was a fun uncle, Stephen was nurturing and Tony spoiled him rotten. He also stole his aunts hearts when they held him. He loved Peppers nurture, Nat's fearlessness, or the fun aunt, and Wanda's magic and protectiveness. Eva thought it fitting that her son and Stephen shared the same birthday November 18. Loki was proud to announce that Odin has accepted Matthias as his grandson, and as such after his first birthday they would go to Asgard for his coronation. Fury had personal child care installed at the tower and the compound, for when Eva and Loki were back.

"Loki, how many children did you say you wanted?" Asked Eva one night when Matthias was two.

"If I remember correctly it was 3, but two would be best."

"You ready for me to curse you out again if we do?"

"I'll be there for you through it all. Eva, if we don't have any more children I will still die a happy man. I have the love of my life, and the most precious little boy..."

"He looks so much like you. I can't wait till he's older and you can start teaching him magic. I've already spoken to Charles Xavier, and he's putting together a plan for Matthias' education beyond what we will teach him. I have such hope for his future."

"Why, Princess, did you ask about children again?"

"Because I just saw Dr Mooney a week ago, and we'll..."

Loki picked her up in a flash peppering kisses along her face and neck "so I'm going to be a dad again?"

"Yes my Prince you will be a dad again, but you get to tell Fury this time!" She laughed as he spun her around. "He's not going to be happy, I may just get used to desk duty, I'm going to be stuck there again."

"Eva, I'm so lucky to have found you, I never want to think what our life would have been like without one little injury, and one bold move."

"Loki our little family is growing, and I'm so excited to be a part of it! I love you Always my Sweet, Dark and Sexy Prince."

#loki #mcu loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki of asgard #dragana #loki of jotunheim #tom hiddleston

[kuroinana]

Thanks @bey-grade and @kehkr for tagging me! Love this challenge :)

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

My WIPs (with their file names)

So I have 4 main folders, here's what in each:

Idea Junkyard

(as the name says, whenever I have an idea, I jot it down here so I don't forget it)

Beygirls vibes: I need more solid ideas to continue it, but I wanted to write something centred around the beygirls haha The first scene (and only scene I wrote) has Mao training to beat Rei's ass, with the help of her gym buddy Rick.

Street Fighting Garland x Bryan: A draft of an AU where Garland gets into street fights for money and gets very close to a certain Russian that I made for @stroblitz

Mayblade (yea, couldn't participate because life was chaotic, but the intentions were there)

Spellbound It started as some planning for an Original work but I let it aside, but might reuse some stuff for my Fantasy AU.

Beyblade Fantasy AU - TyKa - Dragons and Love Potions: my dear baby child that I really hope that will come to life one day

Elite School AU - Julia x Mathilda: Not much yet, I just had this scenario in mind and put it there

Season 4 Euro Tournament - Julia x Mathilda / Gianni x Olivier: it's basically a similar setting to Monsters in Paris, where the first tournament after G-Rev is in Europe funded by the Majestiks and Julia has now to save the day.

Vampire AU TyKa but Takao is the vampire: lol there's literally nothing inside this document but the idea is there!

Oneshots

(if you're lucky to graduate from the Junkyard, you might come here!)

Inside this folder there are a lot of completed works, but some in progress:

Fantasy ReiMax - this should maybe be in the Junkyard since it's 1 paragraph long, but we will see :) It is about this scenario where Rei is an elf and finds this paladin (Max) dying and goes on to nurture him back to health.

Surf AU - This will happen as soon as I have time. Takao is a surf instructor and Kai is a very grumpy student. Based on Aoki's art for Kai's birthday

Resilience

My abandoned season 4 fic centred around Daichi and some friends' OCs. I don't know if I will ever continue it, but I commissioned art for it so you can just hype the characters (from left to right, top to bottom: Jin Alphonse, Ryouko Miyahara, Masumi, Set Samael, our boi Daichi)

Those Quiet Hours

Y'all know this one :) Everything is organised in 4 folders: Archive (Deleted scenes, chapters that were later rewritten), Final ver (all final edits), Other Tales (for stories in the same universe), Scenes (for when I need to write the scene but don't know in which chapter it goes)

I think most of the BeyFam has done it by now, but consider yourself tagged if you see this!

#wip challenge #beyblade fanfiction #sorry for the LOOOONG post

[where-fantasy-meets-reality]

“We’re Not Promised Tomorrow” Chapter 10 “Comlink.”

Masterlist    Chapter 9 

Pairing: Obi-Wan x OC 

Word Count: 5.0 K

Warnings: I burn for Obi and I love these two together. Other than that I don’t believe there are any warnings. 

A/N: In this chapter, things start to pick up a bit and the plot definitely moves along. This chapter begins one of the many story arcs because kids when I said this was a slow burn I meant it. I love these two and I will die on this hill. Also, for some inspiration, I was listening to the song “What You Mean To Me.”The Broadway version of “Finding Neverland,” so was a huge inspiration. As always thank you all for your support, it means a lot. Enjoy the chapter. 

ALSO! If Emily’s lightsaber sounds like it's similar (or exactly) to a specific Princess General’s lightsaber from the original trilogy...well maybe it was done purposely for a plot down the road. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

Obi-Wan believed in punctuality. He insisted on it really. As it was drilled into him, it became a trait he had repeatedly tried to instill in Anakin over the years. His apprentice had become better at being punctual, but he could still be tardy at the best of times, much to his Master’s dismay. Like he had continually observed, some things never changed and Anakin was one of those things. Silently, Obi-Wan was thankful. While Anakin was a challenging Padawan at times, deep down he was his brother and his best friend and he accepted him for who he was, only wanting the best for him.

It was 7:15 A.M. and he was early. He had done that purposefully. He was too excited to sleep in on his mornings during this downtime, well…only on the mornings he was seeing Emily, then there was no sleep. He wanted to be there early so that she would not be left waiting alone; he was a gentleman after all. And, again,  he may have been a tad bit excited to see her.

He was leaning against the thick marble railing of the Grand Staircase, loaded at the mouth of the Grand Hall in the Jedi Temple. Around him, were ceilings that reached into the clouds, domed and held up by columns made of marble and stone. The same marble and stone filled the Grand Hall, the colors of the floors and hallways sparkling in the early morning sun that came blazing in through the multiple windows that adorned the hall. The Temple was one of the most beautiful buildings he had ever had the pleasure of being in and its beauty never failed to take his breath away.

Leaning against the railing, his robes hanging loosely over his shoulders, waiting for her, he felt full of hope for the first time in a long time.

Being away from the doom and gloom of intense battle, enjoying the company of his friends….seeing Emily; it had all done wonders for his spirit. He was enjoying it so much that he had begun dreading returning to the field. Combat forced him to continually be calculating and on guard, responsible for the lives of his men, his fellow Jedi, and himself. All that calculation, worrying about the bottom line, it went against his helpful, generous, and genuine nature. However, returning to battle was inevitable. He knew he would eventually get back into the groove, after all, he had a job to do and he would do it.

Sighing, he wondered if he would continue to see Emily after this week. They had always had an odd pattern of running into each other in their history. When they were younglings they always saw each other. They were always attending lessons together and training with one another. He remembered that they were even part of the same gathering experience on iilum; that had been an experience he treasured. They had started off together in the cave, but the force had eventually called them to different paths on their crystal search, and being good younglings they separated and followed the Force.

Once they became Padowan’s it became the opposite, they were lucky if they saw each other a few times a month. By the time they had both become Jedi Knights, the war had broken out. Then there wasn’t much time for him before he had to start training Anakin. He was able to see her still able to see her during this time, but it was usually for a few minutes in the hallway, at council meetings, or when they would run into each other at the archives. On occasion, they would have the luxury of being able to have a meal together in the mess hall. But that was it, nothing to the level of interaction that they had been having while he was on sick leave. And again, it was scaring him how much he not only enjoyed her presence but was seeking her out.

In all the time he had been a Jedi he had only ever been on one mission with her. He personally did not even count it because they were both still Padawans under Master Plo Koon and Master Qui-Gon Jinn. They had different skill sets so they weren’t usually paired up for missions once they achieved the rank of Jedi.

The fact that he was going to miss her was an issue for him. He had always loved her from afar, but something was different this time for him. He had chalked it up to the war affecting everyone and his emotions. It had never sat well with him that Jedi went from being peacekeepers to being soldiers and experiencing life or death situations every day. Going through those experiences on a daily basis made him think differently, and changed his perspective.

Life was short, and that was something he learned quickly, especially during the war.

Emily’s lightheartedness, innocence, and positivity made him happier than it usually did. She was like a ray of sunshine and a breath of fresh air all rolled into one. In his eyes, she saw something positive in everything, even darkness. She would quote an old Jedi teaching about how without darkness there could be no light, and she would bust the quote out whenever darkness would creep into their lives as a way of keeping everyone's spirits up.

What he loved even more about her was that she was able to maintain her delicate and genuine state of being while being completely capable and able of taking care of herself. She was a tough and cunning warrior who could disarm her opponent with her brain or her saber;

To him, she was absolutely astonishing and breathtaking.

He wanted to keep seeing her again. He didn't want to go another significant stretch of time without her. Not being able to know how she was doing, if she was taking care of herself, or if she was well. He wanted to be there to greet her when she got back from her missions, to hear her stories about them like he used to when they were both Padawans. He wanted her to be a constant force in his life as opposed to a chance one.

Banging his hand on the railing, the sound reverberated off the marble columns around him as he muttered under his breath. “Shit!”

It was happening again.

He was falling in love with her all over again. Spending time around her, creating memories, and sharing emotions with her was reminding him of why he was so hesitant to start coming around her a few days ago.

When he was away from her and didn’t see her, he was able to think of her fondly and leave it there. To stuff his emotions down and focus. Yet, when he was with her for a period of time, she became intoxicating and addicting to him. The more he was around her, the more he wanted of her. She was the perfect vice and his only weakness. He hadn’t felt this way or had it this bad since he was a teenager.

He knew then what he knew now, that they were made for each other. He could feel it in the force, the way their signatures mingled with one another, the way she made him feel, how his hand fit perfectly in hers on the few occasions he held it. How her laughter was like the softest music to him and how her eyes were the most beautiful windows to her exquisite soul. They were the missing pieces of each other's puzzle.

But they were Jedi. And secondly, and arguably, more importantly, she didn’t love him back. In fact, she never gave him a single indication that they were more than close friends. She was rightly dedicated to the lifestyle as a Jedi to even consider him and his foolishness romantically.

Today would be the last day he could allow himself to see her. This couldn’t go on and he needed to be tough with himself. He may be in love with her but she was not in love with him. His feelings were a one-way relationship, so there was no point in admitting them. And if there was no point in admitting them, then there was no point in having those thoughts. He would have to hide in his apartment and meditate or force himself to be around Anakin or Ashoka. He would have to go back to training his mind to not think of her the way it was starting to.

Maybe some light training and exercise would be good for him again. Get back into the “General Kenobi” mindset.

Obi-Wan was taken out of his self-loathing thoughts by that familiar sense of goodness and light that Emily’s Force Signature carried. It always warmed him down to his bones.

He turned to see her coming down the hall. She was dressed in lighter colors today. She wore brown Jedi tunics and pants with a beige Jedi robe and brown boots. Her lightsaber swung by her side. To him, her’s was the only lightsaber that he had ever seen to be embellished with pink gold, it contrasted beautifully with the silver base, other embellishments, and the hilt of the saber in the sunlight.

“Even her saber is delicate and strong like her.” He smiled to himself as he realized this.

To his dismay, they looked like they purposely matched their clothing. Whereas she had lighter-colored robes and darker tunic and pants, he was in his usual brown robe and beige tunic and pants. He could lie and say they both planned the brown boots. Maybe in another world, he could make that joke and not have it raise any eyebrows.

As she approached him he could see the familiar smile on her face, which made his heart soar. He loved her smile, but more importantly, he loved to see her wearing her smile.

Yet, as she got closer he could feel the emotions coming from her Signature. She was happy but something was bothering her. Energy, nervous energy was coming off her in waves that shot through the whole hall.

“Good morning.” His voice was breathy as he spoke, trying not to let his emotions rise to the surface.

“Good morning.” She said meekly.

Obi-Wan noticed how her voice contrasted with her expression immediately and he went into protective mode, against his better judgment.

He knew that voice, when she spoke like that, she was hiding something or stressing about something. Additionally, he could feel her in the force, her signature was unsure and cautious.

“Is everything alright? You seem on edge?” He didn’t want to press, not everything was his business but her energy was cause for concern.

She grimaced as she looked away from him. “Curse the Force.”  She thought to herself. Of course, he would be able to feel her emotions. She had to do a better job of shutting herself down and putting up walls when she was around him.

“Yes, I’m fine. Pre-mission jitters is all it is. You know how it goes.” She forced the lie out of her mouth. Lying made her feel worse.

Wasn’t she the one who was angry with him for lying to her a few nights ago?

“Now I'm a hypocrite. Great way to start the day. Nervous that Sorv is going to show up to the mission off the rails with anger and now I’ve done the very thing to Obi-Wan that I asked him not to do to me. It can only get better from here right?”

He nodded his head at her, pretending to buy that answer. He would get it out of her before she left for the mission, but for now, he wouldn’t push. Maybe she needed time to think about something. Normally he would have dropped it but with the energy coming off her as strong as it was, he knew she needed to talk to someone.

“We should get going.” She indicated toward the staircase with a nod of her head.

He swept his hand out in a gesture that said: “after you.”

As they walked he made a particular effort to wrap his Force Signature around her. He knew how it could be tough for her at times, having the Force strength of a healer; where every emotion and feeling was amplified through the force. If he could help pull some of that energy off her, help relax her, he absolutely would.

While they walked she nonchalantly hugged her arms around herself. She could feel his Force Signature surrounding her, helping to balance her. She wished she could visibly reach out, grab his signature, and draw it around her like her Jedi robes were. He never knew how much comfort and safety she felt whenever he did that. His signature was full of goodness and compassion, and it went all the way to her soul. She would always love that feeling that only he could give her.

Once in the mess hall, they ate in their typical comfortable silence. Well, Obi-Wan ate. Emily swirled the contents of her bowl around methodically with her spoon.

She knew Sorv was a loose cannon. His actions had been becoming more and more erratic for weeks now. She had previously not wanted to admit it to herself but after yesterday she wasn’t sure she could ignore it anymore. She had been excusing his bad behavior recently and now she regretted it. If she had intervened earlier, would she have been able to help him? Could she have changed anything?  Even his Force Signature had changed. What could he be going through that would cause him to change his Force Signature?

Obi-Wan could still feel her nervous energy. It was starting to affect his energy and make him jittery. He was convinced that if she swirled the contents of her bowl around anymore that she was going to burn a hole right through the bowl from all the friction.

He reached out his hands and laid them on top of hers, forcing her to stop her movements. Her hands were ice cold. The Force was so charged around her that it was starting to drain her of her life force energy.

“Emily…..” His voice was soft and smooth. He didn’t want to startle her.     “Please tell me what’s the matter. I promise whatever it is you can tell me. I will not think twice about anything you say or will I speak a word of it to another soul if you don’t want me to.”

His hands were so warm, so comforting. Maybe Obi-Wan was the person she could talk to about this. Truthfully, if she hadn’t seen him this week and she had been having this problem, he would have been the first person she would have thought of to ask for help.  

“It’s not mission jitters.” She whispered, eyes still cast down at the bowl.

He smiled, still holding her hands. “I surmised that might be the case.” He chided, giving her one of his infectious smiles for courage. He was unaware of just how well it worked on her.

“.....It’s Sorv…..” She admitted.

“Sorv? What puddle of drool has he reared his head from that has you acting so nervous?” He questioned her comedically.

“After you left yesterday he showed up…..” She unconsciously gripped his hands harder, taking more comfort in them.  

“He’s changed Obi-Wan. He had such an edge to him. The force was rolling off him in waves of anger and aggression…...his Force Signature has even changed. It’s still the same color so something about him is still the same. But the texture, the feeling of it…..it was dreadful. He was dreadful, especially towards me. He has never acted like this towards me before.”

She looked ashamed. She wasn’t used to leaning on others with her personal problems. It was not the Jedi way that they were taught. Jedi didn’t have personal problems.

Obi-Wan’s eyes suddenly became a shade of ice, a blue so pale they were almost white. They were cold and filled with alertness.

“He didn’t do anything to you did he?”

If Sorv had hurt her in any way, Obi-Wan would find the sniveling coward and give him a piece of his mind, and then some.

“No.” She reacted quickly sensing the change in the Force around him. She knew he was the type of man that respected women and he expected nothing less of other men  “No. He didn’t do anything to me...but the way he spoke to me. His presence. He did say some nasty things but it was…..petty. He was so full of pettiness and jealousy; with a mixture of aggression. He just caught me off guard and his actions have been bothering me ever since yesterday…..”

If Obi-Wan didn’t dislike the man before today, he did now. Emily was still talking but he wasn’t listening. If he had stayed yesterday he could have been there. Been there to help her….to protect her. Instead, she was left to fend for herself with that monster because they were playing games with their Signatures. She could handle that jerk, sure…..

“But she shouldn’t have had to handle him alone. I should have been there. Will you ever grow up Obi-Wan? Your rediculounesses yesterday drained you and distracted you”

Emily’s words ripped him from his thoughts

“What?!? He’s still accompanying you on the mission today?!” Obi-Wan couldn’t believe it.

“I don’t know. I have no reason to think otherwise. I am trying to give him the benefit of the doubt out of courtesy for our friendship. I told myself that if he showed up at the hangar bay in the condition that he was in yesterday, then I would inform the Council and respectfully request that he be taken off the mission.” She replied to him.

She was a smart girl, he had to give her that. If it were someone he cared about like Anakin or Ashoka, he would have handled it the same way. Although he couldn’t understand why she was giving him this courtesy, he didn’t think Sorv deserved it in the first place. But that kindness was what made Emily....well Emily.

“Is it just you and him on this mission?” He asked, afraid of the answer.

“No Xira is assigned to it as well.” Obi-Wan noticed that she looked relieved to say that.

“Your old Padawan? You two have a good relationship right?” He was pretty sure that was the case but he wanted to double-check.

She fully smiled for the first time all morning.    “The best. Xira would have my back no questions asked. She is very loyal. I tell her to be mindful of her thoughts and loyalty but she doesn’t always listen….in a way I am thankful for it. I feel so much safer and more confident with her there. She is a fantastic Jedi and is capable of fending for herself. She is an asset to any operation.” She beamed. She would always be proud of Xira.

“She sounds like a version of Anakin. A copy really. Well, I feel safer and better knowing that she is going with you. I know it is hard on missions to watch where you put yourself but….if you're alone with him…..just don’t let your guard down.”   He felt the need to remind her of what she already knew.

“I agree. I’m not going to jeopardize my mission, nothing is worth that, and that's if he ends up even coming at all. But if he does, I will just have to be mindful of him.”

She instantly felt the loss of his warm, reassuring hands once she released them. It was getting late. She was due at the hanger bay for her shuttle in 15 minutes. She still had to check in on Commander Red and see that he and the 102nd were ready. But before she could say her good-byes, his warm, sweet, voice pulled her from her thoughts.

“You have to get going. Come on, let's get you to the Hanger Bay.” He reminded her, standing up and sliding in his chair.

“Of course, he was watching the clock. He was always aware of everything. Good or bad.” She thought to herself.

“Oh, it’s fine, you don’t have to come. It would be silly for you to walk all the way out to the hanger just to walk back. Plus, I was thinking that myself, that I needed to get a move on it.”  

She was afraid to have him come, truthfully. His presence might set Sorv on edge even more than he was.

“Oh if you think that I am going to let you go there alone, knowing that he could show up and be behaving like a caged animal then you are delusional.” He warned her. No hint of joking in his voice or his expression.

“No, really, it’s fine.” She insisted.

“Emily, you don’t get a say. I’m sorry, but you don’t. You're my best friend. I can’t just sit here or go off and do something else knowing that you could be walking into a situation with someone who is in an unbalanced state of mind and that you might need all the help you could get. Especially if you do have to involve Master Yoda or Master Windu. Do you think he is just going to sit there peacefully and patiently and wait for them to come and reprimand him? No, I am coming. If you don’t want an escort then walk ahead of me and I will follow behind you at a slow pace so no one sees me. Either way, I am accompanying you to that bay and I’m staying somewhere within earshot and eyesight till your ship leaves, if not standing right by your side.” He replied firmly.

She knew it was pointless to argue.

“Alright let’s go….and you can walk beside me…..” She replied.

Reassured by his gesture to accompany her till her shit left, she chose to lighten the moment.

“Besides, if I am going to have an escort, I mind as well get the best one, and a council member no less. Being escorted by the “Negotiator” has a nice ring to it. “

“There’s my girl. There’s that sense of humor and that smile.” He thought to himself.

“You know, I'm handsome too. Good with a lightsaber as well.” He chided back, walking side by side with her in the direction of the hanger.

“Oh if he only knew how handsome he was.”

But now was not the time for flirting; she had a mission to get off the ground.

“Pppphhh….okay, don’t get ahead of yourself there “Mr.Perfect”; there aren’t any Arena for you to Force Jump over.” She mocked him with a smug expression.

“You know….I probably could make it this time. I'm taller now and have longer legs. I’ve got a better handle on the Force.”    He pantomimed a jump as he walked next to her, puffing out his chest and taking a longer stride than he normally would.

She laughed hard and playfully bumped into him as they continued to walk to the hanger.

- - - - - - - - - 

Emily, Obi-Wan, and Xira were waiting at the hanger bay. Commander Red and Captain Jamie, Sorv's head Trooper, had already checked in. Everything was all set to go. The only thing they were waiting on was Sorv himself.

“Is he always this irresponsible and late? He hasn’t even checked in with his own men yet.” Obi-Wan asked the two friends.

“Yes and No. He is a lot of things. Annoying, slimy, and hot-headed are a few of them. He usually pays attention to his troops but lately, he has been falling short. And, unfortunately, he’s either on time or early.” Xira said to him.

“Oh, I like her.” He said to Emily, winking at Xira.

“She is pretty awesome if I do say so myself.” Emily smiled in Xira’s direction.

“Do not send me on a mission with a big head and a confident ego, that will just be bad for everyone involved. But I am glad you all finally noticed I’m fantastic!” Xira joked back with them. The three friends smiled and chuckled.

“Having confidence is never your problem. You're usually overconfident and overestimate your abilities. However, it is usually a challenge to find you in a competent state. You never get anything right.” Insulting her, Sorv joined the group.

Obi-Wank just turned and looked at him. If he ever considered violence towards a person, it would be then. It was against his code, but a punch in the face ought to be the answer to this guy's problem, or he believed it would be. Where was Cody or Anakin when he wanted them? He knew they’d punch him if he asked them to.

“My, my aren’t you a lovely sight in the morning. Glad to see you finally arrived to join your team. Say what you like about Xira but she remembered what time the transport was leaving.” Obi-Wan winked again at Xira, hoping that this time Sorv saw this one.  

“Master Kenobi, wonderful to see you too. Tell me what brings you to the bay? Are you joining us on our mission? You seem to be spending a lot of time with Emily lately as it is.” Sorv’s expression was smooth but it masked a contempt for Kenobi that even a blind person could see.

“No. Unfortunately, I don’t have the pleasure of accompanying this mission. Shame. They’re going to need someone to pick up your slack.” His words were a challenge aimed at Sorv.

Before this peacock show could go any farther, Emily intervened.   “GENTLEMEN. ENOUGH!” She said stepping between the two men, putting her arms up, hoping they would act as a barrier for either man.  

She wheeled around to face Sorv.

“Are you ready to leave?! Have you done everything you need to?!” She demanded.

“Yes. I am set to leave when the ship is ready.” He replied flatly to her.

He was better than yesterday. Gruff and arrogant was his usual state. Sure having Obi-Wan here probably didn’t help, but Sorv’s feelings were no longer a concern of hers.

“Good, as the General in charge, I say we’re leaving now. The ship is ready and we’re two minutes late. Xira, tell Captain Jamie and Commander Red to load up the troops. Sorv, alert the Admiral that we are ready to depart. If either of you aren’t on that ship in 2 minutes I will have the Admiral leave without the both of you.” Again, she demanded this of them.

She felt bad for lumping Xira into her hostility toward Sorv, but she knew she could apologize and explain later. She had just lumped her in there so Sorv wouldn't have anything to complain about. More so, she knew Xira would understand; Xira knew how he could be.  

Obi-Wan did not want her to go on this mission. In fact, he never wanted her around Sorv again. He wanted to punch the man into the side of The Temple and leave him there to rot. He was not going to stop worrying about her until she got back. Thank goodness the mission was only for today and she should be back by late this evening. He dipped his hand into his pocket.

“This is my com-link. It’s a personal one. Only Anakin and Ahsoka have the number other than myself. If you need someone, call it and one of us will answer, most likely me. The other receiver is in my apartment. I will go back and get it when you leave. Take this one with you.” He offered it to her.

She began to protest and decline but he pushed it towards her. He lowered his voice.

“Emily, that man is not right. You know it and I know it. When you get back from this mission you need to go to the council. I am begging you to take this. If you don’t use it that's perfectly alright, but I will feel better knowing you have it. If you need to use it, use it. I won’t call you because I don’t want to distract you. But IF you need me I will be there.” He said placing the comlink into her hand and closing her fingers over it.

“Thank you.” She admitted to him.

She would have never accepted the comlink if it was from someone else. She was capable of taking care of things on her own. But she knew she could trust him. It was a comfort for her to know that she had a way to get in touch with him if she needed to.

She hugged him. It was a brief but strong hug. One that conveyed appreciation and thanks.

He wanted to keep her there. Nothing could harm her while she was in his arms. His stomach was in knots. She was going somewhere remote with that slimo and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it because it was for a mission. There was a war going on. This is what they did, it was part of the job. He pleaded to the Force that she would be safe. To just come back in one piece….come back to him.

“Try not to get to board while I’m gone.” She retorted as she boarded the ship.

He would be anything but bored today, worrying about her.

“I could say the same to you, but you have your hands full, so I will spare you.” He teased.

“Emily…..” He called back to her before she disappeared into the shuttle. He sobered up his expression.

“May the Force be with you.” He said it so seriously that if someone who didn’t know him heard it, they’d say it sounded like a plea or a prayer. Maybe it was.

“May the Force be with you.” She replied back to him, standing in the doorway of the ship as the hatch was lowering.

Obi-Wan stood in the bay and watched the transport take off. He knew she would be okay. She was tough and good at what she did. The challenge would be keeping his worry in check all day. She had his comlink if she needed it. He had done everything he could to ensure her safety. It was up to the Force and her to accomplish the mission and come back to the Temple. Back home.

@nanagoswife @transcending-time @sillynilly27 @janebby @the-clones-and-me​ @thewhitedannimal​ @kirstenvldfan21​ @tamnight​ @ocfairygodmother 

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi #obi-wan #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fluff #obi-wan kenobi fanfic #Obi-wan kenobi X oc #obi-wan x oc

[capskat26]

On May 15, my dear friend Megan (@gothicdancer) passed away after a long hard fight with brain cancer. It’s taken me over a week and a half to publicly speak about her death because... how do you find a way to talk about someone who has touched your life in so many ways in a reasonable amount of words??

Megan and I met in 2004 on the site “FanArt Central” due to a shared love for the anime “One Piece” and a mutual admiration for each other’s fan fiction/art for the series. Soon enough, our stories became part of the same fanfic universe, and our characters (based off of ourselves) became friends as well! She was the first friend I ever made through a fandom.

Our correspondence continued through our teenage years, with many a Skype conversation about anime and our OCs and life in general. We traded countless amounts of art on DeviantArt and shared jubilations upon being accepted to our colleges of choice. It was Megan’s postcards my freshman year of college that helped eased my nerves and stresses of moving away from home for the first time and dealing with long days in the studio.

Her original tale “Princess Records”, was the inspiration behind my submission “Blossom Lion” for the 1001 Knights anthology (with her blessing), with the main characters based on her creation, Princess Yakune, and her protector Smadar, a character I had created as part of a contest she ran for Princess Records on DeviantArt a decade prior.

After all those years of online friendship, we finally, FINALLY got to meet in person in 2018 at Katsucon that year. That weekend and the following year at Katsucon 2019 were truly not enough time to spend together, but I'm so thankful for the memories made during those two long weekends.

I will always see Megan in so many things – in the characters Zoro and Rock Lee and Moira O’Deorain and every original character we shared. When my Caps hit the ice against her Bruins. In looking through every letter and drawing and cosplay selfie and silly facebook message. 

This memorium is only a fraction of 18 years of memories, but in closing – Megan, I am so thankful and lucky to have been your friend. You were a kind soul and a wonderful person taken from this world way too young and I am going to miss you so, so, so much. ❤️

#long post #cw: death mention #sorry for getting very very sad on main but my heart has been aching with grief the last week and a half #and i honestly need to scream from my heart just how much megan meant to me

[lordsalissoon]

The first part: I wasn't sure, if you have the same problem as I do with notifications being broken or if it even notifies the og poster. So no worries, and you definitely deserve a lot of support, so that is the least I can do. Well, technically that and the other part below. 😅

Base part: I definitely want to credit you, every time I show the base, I also tell them to come read the Webtoon comic, if they use Webtoon. It's still something I respect the wishes of the creator, so definitely will continue doing this. (Though there are quite a few people, I did share this with, are already reading your comic and they said they really liked the comic. They were also surprised that I was reading it, so there was also that. 😆 ) Plus I only will use the base for the fun of it, so I won't use your base outside of the Nokori realm. 😄 (Though I only made Lucky with the base, that I showed you a while back, but I probably wouldn't have been able to free draw my Sona OC, without having used your base. I'm pretty sure, your base helped me, in so many more ways, than I can truly express my gratitude for. So this part I wanted to thank you for!) 💖

Oof topic but When I shared my art of my Sona oc, Lucky, on Deviantart and I linked your Tumblr account as a way to credit you. (I hope you dont mind, i linked you that way. I wasn't sure if that was entirely, ok, or not.) but I got quite a few favs already for the art. So ik people liked the art and the base. (I've even written a lore story of Lucky about him, like his origin story of how he got cursed with living forever.) So I'm not sure if that's part of the reason people liked it.

Back on this topic, I definitely, would like to make more art, using your base, to bring more people to your Webtoon comic. This is the least thing, I can do in return for helping me, even though it wasn't a direct type of help. 😁

Also sorry if this is a bit too long, I got a bit carried away for this one and let my rambling get the best of me. 😅💖

I mostly have problems with notifications for my DMs. Sometimes, Tumblr won't notify me at all, so I have to manually check if someone has sent something from time to time.

Oh, Thank you!!! If you want to show me what you'll do with the bases, I would be glad to see!

The way you credited me on Deviantart is ok! And it is nice to see that people liked your art!!!

Again, thank you!! You're really sweet! I'm glad the bases helped you! And you don't need to be sorry!

#ask #lucky24neko #lucky24neko ask #aon ask #ages of nokori ask

[bmpmp3]

THE OTHER DAY i remembered this one OC i had when i was like 10-14ish and got in the ZONE

he was a witch named Lucky and his whole deal is he was. painfully unlucky. unlucky to a physically dangerous degree. fatally unlucky. now that i think about it it would make sense if he was cursed or something but i dunno i didnt think about that when i was 10 asjfasjfhsuhrjefsd ANYWAY his personality was very chill and his peers and neighbours don’t regard him super highly (they think he’s a little lazy and also kind of dangerous to be around because of yknow. the luck thing) but he’s a very skilled witch, he’s weirdly calm about the constant almost dying tho. he likes to make lame jokes 

he had a friend who was an angry little talking cat who could turn human and for some mysterious reason made it her mission to stop him from being killed by the forces of the universe. he doesn’t know her name (neither do i to be honest, i think...it was Echo? its gotta be echo mist or mystery those were my go-to cat OC names when i was 10) and she’s not his familiar or anything (she might be someone’s familiar, just not his) but it’s nice to have the company

#ocs #oc art #art #digital art #sketch #actually most of these were lined traditionally lol just coloured digitally #also sorry i keep disappearing for days and coming back with some random ocs i made when i was a kid #i am. remembering. i. am remembering. #originally these ocs were not in the same story AT FIRST when i made lucky he was. a warrior cats oc named luckyshadow sjdkafsfjd #he was essentially the same tho nobody liked him and he was dangerously unlucky lol personality was the same too #echo was my go to shapeshifter cat oc i put her in like every story i had at the time lol #but later when i turned lucky into like a normal human she just fit very well as a friend so now shes attached to this premise~ #did i mention the time powers. did i mention echo's time powers. #last time i worked on these ocs when i was like 14-15 echo had time powers and reset the day every time lucky actually did die #it was like. the project diva mv for kagerou days in reverse #local cat loops time until you stop dying #i dont know if lucky knows about the time powers. hes smart so he's probably figured out somethings up jfksaksjgdfs #anyway i just got in the zone~ i like to make ocs and premises....that is what i like to do!!!!!!!!!! #now if only i would actually do something with them all. someday. someday. #for now. long posts with many pictures explaining their plotlines will have to do~ #also sorry about these dudes outfits. usually i end up totally redesigning my old ocs entirely but i left the outfits here untouched #so they are kinda like. 10 year old who doesnt know or care about historical fashion school of design #although i mean. this isnt historical fiction so maybe its fine. maybe its fine if lucky kinda dresses like a 2013 hipster sexyman. maybe

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela​

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela​ for @jtargaryen18 ‘s  Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide. 

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone. 

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.  

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue. 

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. 

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound 

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood. 

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you. 

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. 

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the  gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host. 

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream. 

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. 

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall. 

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne. 

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. 

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background.  And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. 

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway. 

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.  

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his. 

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes.  With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!" 

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet. 

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away. 

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask. 

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system. 

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked. 

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow. 

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with  the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission. 

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did. 

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even, 

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his 

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby. 

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. 

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his. 

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought. 

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

#murder he wrote #j's haunted house 2020 #dark ransom #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

[joaquinwhorres]

Treacherous Waters (Leonard McCoy x Reader)

SUMMARY ››››› After finals at Starfleet Academy all of the cadets flock to local bars in search of a good time. Which is exactly where you meet Leonard McCoy. And you are more than willing to show him a good time with the understanding that come Saturday morning he'll be gone, and you'll never see him again. Which is exactly what happens...until five years later your starship has a massive failure and the only ship around to save you is the Enterprise.

WORD COUNT ››››› 3,072

WARNINGS ››››› Drinking and mentions of sexy times. 

A/N ››››› Sooooo originally this was just supposed to be a “dancing in a bar with Leonard McCoy” fic but then I got an idea and well, it’s this. 

Prefer OC’s? Read it on AO3.

Finals Week at Starfleet Academy was a glorious occasion.

Or perhaps, more accurately, the Friday evening after Finals Week at Starfleet Academy was a glorious occasion. Because the Friday night of Finals Week was when the beautiful, young, pent up cadets flooded the local bars in desperate search for some unbridled fun.

Which Y/N was more than happy to provide

"Kirk's here," Kiesh hissed, her fingers digging into Y/N's arm in her excitement. Y/N flinched, and Kiesh released her quickly, but was too distracted to mutter an apology, her gaze fixated on the near mythical figure of San Francisco nightlife.

The tales that followed Jim Kirk were outlandish and obscene and wholly captivating.

There was the story of his birth aboard the USS Kelvin minutes before his father saved the lives of everyone who'd been aboard the ship.

There was the story of how he'd earned his spot in the Academy by taking on three security Lieutenants in a fist fight and walking away with no more than a bloody nose.

And of course there were the stories of his romantic conquests. Although romantic was probably not the right word for it. Carnal, sensual, lustful, and erotic all seemed a bit more descriptive of what transpired between Jim Kirk and the girls of San Francisco.

And like any mythical figure, these tales were enough to warn off a good number of girls from falling into his sheets...while prompting others to search for him to either worship or conquer themselves.

Kiesh fell firmly in the later category. She was no Kirk acolyte, but he had become a point of fixation for her because he was what no other man had been to her--unattainable.

Y/N scanned the crowd for the golden haired casanova, but the bar was too packed. It was an ocean of voices and species and color, all flowing to the electric undercurrent that ran throughout the bar. Y/N's eyes caught on the blood red uniforms of cadets too eager to indulge their youth to waste any time by going home and changing clothes.

Two palms pressed into either side of Y/N's face as her roommate turned her attention away from the cadets, past groups of people wearing the colorful and patterned designs native to their home planet, and to the end of the neon purple bar. There, just visible between the bodies of two friends having a chugging contest, was Jim Kirk with his head thrown back laughing.

"He's gorgeous," Y/N murmured. She'd figured he had to be, but it was one thing to hear about Adonis and another thing completely to see him in person. Kiesh's hands fell from Y/N's head, allowing the other girl to turn back to her. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"I might not make it to breakfast." A coy smile curled Kiesh's lips up as she started off through the crowd, disappearing amongst the crowd.

Y/N followed her progress, watching the other girl choose a space at the bar directly in Kirk's line of sight, sliding into the chair and tossing her long purple hair over one shoulder to reveal the expanse of skin from her neck to her chest, and then below the crop top.

And then she waited.

Watching Kiesh work was a sight to behold. Each trap was delicately set, carefully tailored to the man she'd picked on that given night. She planned each movement--the way she walked, the angle of her body against the bar, the look she painted on her face--to snag men like a siren, luring them into her dangerous waters.

As much as she wanted to see this play out, Y/N had other more important things to accomplish.  Like finding her own catch for the night. And she wasn't going to do that by standing in one spot all night.

If Kiesh was a siren, then Y/N was a shark, moving constantly throughout the room in search of the perfect prey. She weaved in and out of small groups, eyes scanning the members therein. There were groups of friends laughing together, cadets challenging each other to drinking games, girls who like her and Kiesh came with one purpose in mind, and others who came to have a good time by themselves, cadets be damned.

But it wasn't until her fourth slow, methodical lap that she saw him. Or rather, she saw Kirk slap him on the back with a large grin before making his way over to where Kiesh leaned on her elbows. More than the broadness of his shoulders, the tussle of dark hair, and the deep red color of his uniform, it was the scowl he was shooting at Kirk's back that caught her attention and drew her across the bar to him as if smelling blood in the water.

"You look like a man who doesn't dance," Y/N said, folding her arms on the back of what was once Kirk's chair. It took him almost three seconds to realize that she was talking to him, and when he did, he lifted his eyebrows--the look an interesting combination of amusement and apprehension.

"Well, that's a first," he remarked. There was just a trace of an accent under his words that Y/N couldn't quite place.

"I highly doubt I'm the first person to notice," Y/N said, rocking on the balls of her feet. "Unless of course I'm wrong, and you're constantly barraged with requests to hit the dance floor."

He exhaled a laugh, the sound sailing past his lips, and into the glass he lifted up to his mouth. "You're not wrong," he said, taking a sip of his liquor and then placing it back down on the bar in front of him.

"Didn't think so. I rarely am."

He gave her a cautious look out of the corner of his eye as if still unsure where this conversation was going and why she was talking to him. As if people chatted up strangers in bars just to pass the time.

"So, since you don't dance, that begs the obvious question…what's a man like you doing in a place like this?"

He cracked a smile then, slowly tilting his head to look at her, really look at her, for the first time. "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

"Only if you subscribe to archaic 20th century gender norms," Y/N shrugged, smiling back at him. "Besides," she leaned closer, tipping her head towards his conspiratorially, and he shifted closer as well. "I don't think it's much of a mystery for me. I mean, look at our clothes."

His eyes wandered down to her deep V halter before seeming to realize he was still in his reds. "Fair point," he conceded, pulling back a little to take another sip of his drink.

"So?"

"A friend dragged me out," he admitted, eyes sliding back over to her. She raised both of her eyebrows as if she was surprised and didn't see Kirk abandoning him just five minutes ago.

"And left you to fend for yourself in a dive like this?" She shook her head as if scandalized by the idea. "You need better friends."

The cadet snorted and nodded his head. "You've got that right."

"Well, you're very lucky I found you before another girl did," Y/N said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"That so?"

She nodded. "They may try to take advantage of you in such a defenseless state. All alone by the bar nursing a...what is that, whiskey?"

"Bourbon, actually." His eyes sparkled with an intoxicating warmth similar to the liquor he was drinking.

Y/N rolled her eyes lightly. "Same thing."

"Only technically."

"Technicalities are everything," she grinned. "Anyway, I'm willing to offer my protective services as a long time San Francisco resident to navigate these treacherous waters."

"You're from here?" he asked, genuine curiosity overtaking his features for the first time in their conversation. Y/N's smile turned a bit strained, but she nodded.

"Not quite. But I've been here for fifteen years. Just haven't figured out how to drop the accent," she shrugged.

"So are you from England then?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Next round's on me if you can guess where."

"Lon…" he started, and a grin grew across Y/N's face before he switched course. "Birmingham?"

She shook her head. "London."

"You tricked me," he accused lightly, his brow furrowing slightly but into more of mock offense and surprise at her cunning than anything else.

"You're highly suggestible," she shook her head, fighting to keep a smile down. "Which brings me back to the fact that you absolutely cannot remain alone in this bar tonight. It's far too dangerous for you."

"Guess I'll have to take you up on that offer then, darlin'." His smile was more subtle--apparently the fight to keep it off his face was going better for him.

"Y/N," she corrected, lifting her hand to offer it to him.

The man took it, his fingers surprisingly soft for a cadet. "Leonard," he answered.

Y/N let her hand linger in his, not pulling back until his grip loosened and his fingers trailed against hers to go back around his glass. She leaned her elbow on the back of the chair, placing her chin on top of her hand. "So Leonard," she asked. "Are you going to buy me a drink or am I working for free?"

He smirked, lifting a hand to call the bartender over as Y/N slid into the seat next to him, leaning her arms against the smooth chrome bar. The Tellarite bartender made his way over, and Leonard looked at Y/N.

"Well are you going to order or sit there staring at each other?" the bartender snapped. Leonard shot him a dirty look, and Y/N snorted.

"I'll have a Samarian Sunset on his tab," she ordered, pointing a finger at Leonard, and the man grunted. Leonard still looked rather displeased with the exchange but ordered himself another bourbon. The bartender walked away grumbling, and even Leonard looked rather grumpy.

"You know that's just his way of greeting right?" Y/N asked, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Tellarites consider it polite to attempt to start an argument when meeting someone. If he wasn't mildly insulting I would have been majorly insulted."

"And I thought you were kidding about being a guide."

"I would never," Y/N said with mock indignation, placing a hand over her heart. "Leonard, I take my promise to you very seriously. I will be at your side all night."

"All night?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

"All night," Y/N repeated with a nod, keeping her eyes locked on Leonard. He met her gaze with an intensity that made her stomach twist with delight.  And of course it was right then that bartender reappeared.

He placed a martini glass full of clear liquid in front of Y/N, and a rocks glass with amber liquor in front of Leonard before making a derisive noise in his throat and walking away. Leonard didn't seem to mind as much this time.

"Cheers," Y/N said, reaching forward with her glass, and Leonard clinked his against hers, lifting it to his lips. She watched intently as she swirled her own drink so that a luminescent gold wisp spiraled out, turning the clear liquor the color of a burning sun. He pulled the glass from his lips, and she returned her attention to her own drink, taking a slow sip before placing it back down on the bar.

"So, Leonard," Y/N let the name roll off her tongue teasingly. "Tell me about yourself. Where are you from? What are you studying?"

"I'm a medical student," he said, setting his own glass down. "And I'm from Georgia."

"Ooh, a doctor and a southern gentleman," Y/N teased, shimmying her shoulders. "My mother would be so proud of me."

"Who said I'm a gentleman?" he asked with raised eyebrows, leaning closer to her. Y/N's mouth fell open slightly before she caught herself, stopping her body from melting completely right there in the seat.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Leonard," she quipped, taking a sip of her drink.

"If you didn't want a good time then why did you come over here?" he asked, and Y/N grinned at him.

"Because you look like a man who doesn't dance."

"Well darlin," Leonard started, his eyes sparkling with the slightest bit of mischief and a look on his face that was enough to make something delicious twist in the pit of Y/N's stomach. "The night's still young."

The night grew in both the amount of time passed and the amount of drinks finished. It was hard to state exactly how much of either had slipped away from the two of them as their glasses had been cleared a few times, but the world was just a bit lighter and hazier at the edges than was usual and the crowd slightly thinner than it had been when Y/N entered.

"Well, darlin'," Leonard's accent had grown heavier with the liquor, words dripping like molasses from his lips. "I should be gettin' back before curfew."

Y/N exhaled, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Leonard," she said slowly, dragging out the word. Her own accent adding a richness to her words that had been precise and sharp earlier in the evening. "I thought I made it quite clear that I wasn't leaving your side all night, so you can't go running off to the dorms on me now."

"Need me to walk you home?" he asked, pausing from putting on his coat to settle the tab.

"Such a southern gentleman," the words rolled like waves from her, her voice rising and falling as he lifted an eyebrow at the screen he was signing. "Yes, I require an accompaniment home," she mocked. "And then I need you to pick a side you want me on for the next part of our night: top or bottom."

Leonard's eyes darkened, pupils blown wide before grabbing her hand and leaving the bar behind.

The cab ride to her apartment was...restrained. The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder in the backseat, eyes focused ahead through the windshield. Even as Y/N's hand drifted from her own lap into his, venturing up his thigh, both of them remained focused on the passing San Francisco streets. Leonard's hand came on top of her own. "Just wait, darlin'," he said, his words dripping with the richness of molasses as he folded his hand around hers.

"It's not polite to make a lady wait," Y/N quipped, shooting him a look out of the corner of her eye.

He snorted but made no attempt at a retort, instead patiently holding her hand until the cab stopped. Y/N opened her door, dragging Leonard by the hand and towards her apartment building.

The ride on the elevator was just as restrained as the cab drive, only instead of the beautiful lights of downtown, the pair stared at their distorted reflection in the sleek chrome doors.

There was a hum in the elevator though. Inaudible, but she could feel it singing across her skin, radiating from each part of her body that touched Leonard's. She bit her lip, and could feel Leonard look down at her. She allowed her gaze to slide over to him, drifting up to his face, meeting his eyes, already dark and boring into hers.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the doors slid open, pulling their attention away from each other and out of the elevator.

The pair walked down the hallway, stopping outside of her door so she could punch in the code. It took two tries for her to get it before the door clicked and she pushed it open, revealing her dark apartment. Y/N ventured in first, turning to invite Leonard in, but she'd barely opened her mouth before her face was in his hands, and he was walking her back into the wall.

The light switch jammed into her shoulder blade, and she felt a bit off balance, but his lips moved over hers with such a ferocity, it pushed everything else from her mind. Instead, all she could focus on was the feeling of his lips against hers, the taste of the sharp tang of alcohol he'd been drinking all evening. He invaded her senses, making it impossible to think of anything other than pulling him closer to her.

Y/N wound her fingers into his hair, urging him nearer to her, which he did, stepping forward, and moving a hand from her face to her waist, pulling her flush against him. His other hand wandered down to her chest as his lips began a journey down the curve of her neck. "I don't usually do this type of thing," he murmured against her skin.

"Go home with--ah--a strange woman from the--fu--the bar?" Y/N panted, pushing her hips into his for a taste of the friction she needed.

He pulled himself away from her collarbone to look up at her with hooded eyes. "Exactly."

"You're missing out," Y/N grinned, chest heaving. "Now take off your clothes so I can prove it to you."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of bare skin and desperate sounds and more pleasure than Y/N had gotten out of a night out in a while.

It almost made her sad to see him go in the morning. Almost.

But him leaving was always a part of her plan for Saturday morning. Whether it was before or after breakfast, he would walk out of her apartment, never to be seen again. Instead, he'd fade into a memory of lips trailing against skin, fingers tangling in hair, bed frame rattling into the wall.

At least that's what was supposed to happen.

She wasn't supposed to see him again.

And she especially wasn't supposed to see him in a starship's transporter room, rushing towards her as she pressed her hand into Kiesh's side, desperate to keep the blood inside of her friend's body and not spilling out onto the transporter pad. He wasn't supposed to be there. And neither was she.

#leonard mccoy x reader #bones mccoy x reader #doctor mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy smut #bones mccoy smut #doctor mccoy smut #bones smut #bones x reader #star trek bones x reader #dr. mccoy x reader #mccoy x reader #bones aos #leonard mccoy aos #bones mccoy aos #doctor mccoy aos #mccoy aos #leonard mccoy #mccoy #dr. mccoy #doctor mccoy #star trek aos #star trek #star trek kelvin timeline #leonard mccoy x oc #bones x oc #bones mccoy x oc #doctor mccoy x oc #dr. mccoy x oc #mccoy x oc