#edgy dangerous and with a dark past who’s slowly coming out of his shell and learning to be human

[sudsyv2]

Ghost, ever since he and soap made their relationship known to their friends, has been very touchy with soap.

Now physical touch isn’t his preferred type of love language, but he does like touching soap so it could be a close second.

Anyhow, skinship! Ghost initiates it every time soap is near him.

Ghost never misses the opportunity too either, always seeking out the smaller man. It was a little different when they hid their relationship, it was ghost waiting for soap to find him. But ever since they revealed their relationship, it’s been ghost actively searching for the scot. It was like he had a radar or something.

And when soap walks in the room, or ghost can hear that laugh of his, ghost perks up immediately. Getting up from his spot to follow the sound of his lover. No matter what he was doing at the time, putting everything down was only natural when you’re in love. And when ghost finally sees soap? He’s all over his lover. The need to feel soaps skin under his hands is overwhelming.

Simple touches and hand holding lights up that possessive fire in ghost. He wants to pull soap into his arms, keep him there, and order anyone else near to back the fuck up.

And soap is always encouraging it.

Enjoying the feeling of being held by ghost, feeling ghosts hands run over his body.

It’s even worse when ghost is drinking!

Ghost won’t let soap out of his reach and sight. If soaps needs to go do something, ghost is going to come along as well. What if there’s something soap can’t reach? Or too heavy for him? That’s why ghost is next to him, ready to offer help for his lover! (Yes these are all half assed excuses drunk ghost has used when people ask why he’s always following soap)

It would be kinda cute if ghost didn’t have a reputation of being terrifying!

And when ghost finally gets a hold of soap? He is not letting go.

(“Si. Dear. Love of my life. Let me go change!” Soap begged, shifting around in ghosts hold. Nose scrunching up at the aroma of alcohol coming off of his lover. Soap has known for some time how ghost gets drunk, but he’d really like to change out of his sweaty clothes please. “…nah” Ghost mumbled, burying his head deeper into the side of soaps neck. He didn’t mind the smell, they’re men in the military. Sweat is natural. So, despite soaps pleads, Ghost tightens his hug. Holding soap even closer now. Ghost smiled with a smug grin hearing soap sigh in defeat. And if soap really wanted to ghost to let go, he’d obviously fight back. )

Alcohol is called liquid courage for a reason! So there’s a lack of shame in ghost when he pulls soap into his lap. Hands mindlessly roaming under soaps shirt every damn time. If ghosts hands aren’t under soaps shirt it’s on his ass. Groping and squeezing at the round flesh like it’s a fucking stress toy. But if ghost can’t be near soap, he’d give the other his jacket. Forcing the other to wear it so when ghost gets back, soap smells like him. And no one else. (Ghost almost cried when he got back to soap and soap smelled like someone else. Ghost says he doesn’t remember this but soap does. He has pictures!)

Anyways, ghost is touchy. And will be. Gift giving is his main love language but who said there can’t be two? No one!

Soap knows this. It’s what he signed up for in their relationship so 😙

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 41

Warnings: mention of mental health issues

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @ocfairygodmother​

She stands in the doorway that leads from the house into the garage, watching him as he works. Just three hours ago those hands -so big and strong, calloused and scarred, powerful- had been patiently and gently braiding his little girl’s pigtails; securing them with ribbons. Now they inspect a variety of automatic and semi-automatic weapons; stripping them down, cleaning every individual piece, then expertly putting them back together. His movements are methodical and efficient; never hesitating, never second guessing, just fluid, effortless motions of a man with years of experience behind him.

It’s been years since she’s seen him THIS intense. A level that only comes with the game; memories of past jobs and the things he’s had to do to survive and the knowledge that he’ll have to resort to them in the near future.   His lips set in a thin, stern line and his brow furrowed with both concentration and worry; eyes dark and focused. Haunted, even. A man whose fractured and tattered brain holds very vivid recollections of the things he’s seen and heard. Whose hands know what it’s like to take the lives of others; whether through hand to hand combat or with the squeeze of a trigger.   It isn’t an easy thing to do; even when your own life is in danger. You always wish there’s  another choice; one that won’t result in bloodshed and death.  You kill out of necessity, not desire or enjoyment. Not because you thrive on the snapping of bones or the sight and full of someone else’s blood covering your hands and body. Not because you ‘get off’ on the sick thrill of watching someone take their last breaths; seeing hope and then life drain from their eyes. You do it because if the shoe were on the other foot, they’d be rejoicing in your demise.

There ARE mercs like that; who have become accustomed to killing. Desensitized. Physically and mentally enjoying   the brutality and the finality. She’s witnessed it first hand; those that brag about their kills (the more gruesome the better) while their eyes glitter with victory and excitement.  But that’s not Tyler. It never has been. The reputation of a merciless, savage, stone killed killer being built upon hearsay and other peoples’ expectations on what he SHOULD be like. She’d known he was different right from the start; the moment she’d stepped foot into that shack in the outback and actually engaged laid eyes on him and engaged with him. She’d gone into that meeting with that reputation and all the gossip and stories fresh in her mind; preconceived thoughts and opinions that had initially clouded her judgment. She’d been surprised -pleasantly- to discover he wasn’t what other peoples’ running mouths had put  into her mind. Much younger than expected.  Far more attractive. With those blue eyes that held so many regrets and so much pain. Guilt. Even. So troubled and haunted; a man with deep, buried trauma and secrets. And she’d been the fortunate one; who’d gotten him to open up and let his guard down. Who’d helped him learn to trust -and more importantly, to love- again.

This is the old Tyler. The one standing in front of her now. The one that’s focused on the job and everything that comes with it. His personality is different; closed off, irritable, unapproachable. Yet she knows how to deal with it. With HIM. She’s walked on the particular batch of thin ice before; learning how to take the extra ‘edginess’ that creeps into his voice, the up and down moods that encompass everything pure and utter calm to volatile rage. She’s the one person who can engage with him during those moments. Confident that he’d never do or say anything to intentionally hurt her. It’s the nature of the beast. That bad that comes with such an unpredictable and dangerous existence.

“Is it okay to come in?” she asks. And when he looks up and glances towards her, she notices how his features momentarily soften; the creases on his brow disappearing, eyes lightening, a small smile curving his lips.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re just so into it. I didn’t want to bother you. Or get in the way.”

“Babe, you could never bother me. You know that.”

His words -and the obvious change in tone and demeanour- help quell her own anxiety and frayed nerves. It’s been a hell of a forty eight hours. The last half being especially  stressful; ews of more threats  and the upcoming arrival of Saju’s brother (who’d insisted that the only safe way to speak was to do so face to face) and both Nathan and Koen planning on coming to temporarily bunk with Ovi in the guest house. It’s just too much, too soon. And trying to fake ‘normalcy’ for the sake of children is not an easy thing; exhausting both physically and mentally.

“I come bearing gifts,” she says as she walks through the garage, the cement floor cool against the bottom of her feet. In one hand she holds a plate of food; filled to the edges with reheated leftovers from last night, in the other a bottle of water. “You haven’t eaten much since yesterday and I know how you get when you don’t fuel up properly. Where do you think Millie gets her ‘hangriness’ from?”

“That’s all you.”

“Please. You get so bitchy and ragey. And I don’t want to put up with that, so…” she offers him the plate. “...eat. Please. You can’t run on an empty tank.”

“You worry too much.”

“So? I worry. It’s what I do. You think you’d be used to it by now. Humour me, okay? I’m trying to take care of you here. Let me take care of you.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re not. But you ARE my husband and I love you and I just want to baby you sometimes. So swallow some of that  pride and toxic masculinity and let me do it. Stop being so difficult, Tyler James.”

He smirks at her use of his full name. “You’re stubborn.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever known. And I’ve known a lot of stubborn people. I’m trying to take care of you. It’s who I am. Do you want to make me cry?”

“Never.”

“Then shut the fuck up and eat something.”

“You know what..” a slow grin spreads across his face. “...you’re a pain in my ass.”

“It’s a very nice ass, though.” she praises, and he lays a hand on the small of her back and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah? Well yours isn’t half bad either,” he says, his hand sliding down to tightly grip one of the cheeks through the fabric of her shorts; pinching lightly as he kisses her. Long and slow and soft; her body rising up onto her tip toes and then leaning into his. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want you to ever say I don’t do nice things for you,” she teases. “I swear if I hear one negative out of you…”

“I’ll be nice,” Tyler promises, and then takes the plate of food from her. “You do spoil me. I’ll give you that. You good?”

“I’ve had better days,” she admits. “I’m a little...on edge. This is all happening so fast and it feels like I can’t even catch my breath. And then I see you in here doing this…” she nods in the direction of the table filled with weapons and plastic containers packed with various supplies scattered about. “...I didn’t think this would all happen so soon. It’s a little...overwhelming.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t have to.”

“I know. I’m not blaming you at all. It’s a messed up situation all around. And I know you’re just trying to protect us and I love you so much for that. I do. It just hurts. Watching you like this. Seeing the Old Tyler come back.”

He gives a nod in response, both brows arched.

“Not that I don’t love that Tyler because that’s the Tyler I fell in love with in the first place. It’s just scary. Thinking of you getting back into things.”

“You’re worried that new Tyler won’t come back.”

“A little, I guess. It’s okay with them both hanging around. But I don’t I’m ready to deal with just the old one. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But it’s how I feel.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he assures her, as his hands move to her side and he places a kiss on her temple. “He’ll come back. I promise.”

“Let’s just concentrate on what’s right in front of us,” she suggests, attempting to be more cheerful. “We have our weekend coming up and then  Millie’s birthday. Normal stuff. I need that right now. Normal. Our version of normal, at least.”

Tyler nods in agreement; kissing her once more before giving her ass a final squeeze and a light tap before carrying the plate of food to the work table across the room and perching himself on the edge.  He watches her as he eats. The way she slowly circles the table, eyes thoroughly scanning the various weapons; some cleaned and complete, others still in pieces. Old habits die hard, no matter how many times you attempt to kill them off. This had been very much her life as well; time in the corps, time on the job. Their skill sets vastly different; her the brains behind a mission, him the brawn.  But it’s still ingrained in both of them. And it fills him with both a sense of pride and sadness. Proud  how strong and intelligent and resilient she is; knowing what she’s capable of  and all the people she’s helped rid the world of and the lives she’s had a hand in saving. But also disheartened  that she even HAS to revisit her former existence.  She’d been more than willing to give it up, content in her decision to be a wife and a mother and concentrating solely on those things. And now her old self is making an appearance and he absolutely hates that for her. That she even has to think about anything job related, never mind the threats that have been made towards not only them, but their children.

“I don’t know who the guy is that gave you these things, but he is no rookie,” Esme comments. “It’s quantity AND quality. I don’t know I want to know how much you shelled out for all of this.”

“He owed me. A huge debt I could have collected on over the years but never did. So this is how he paid up.”

“Someone you were supposed to kill?”

“Something like that. People wanted him to suffer.  Thought it made more sense to keep him in one piece.”

“Good call. He’s obviously a guy you want on your team. There’s more where these came from?”

“If I need more I just have to ask. That’ll cost me though.”

“How much?”

Tyler shrugs. “Haven’t discussed stuff like that yet.  I thought you wanted normal. Because this...you...not normal.”

“This used to be. Normal,” she reasons. “The normal me.”

“It doesn’t have to be anymore.”

“It’s just kind of hard not to fall back into old habits. I figured as soon as you decided to get into it..to start a business...some of it might come back.”

“It doesn’t have to come back for you,” he points out.

“We’re a team, remember? Partners. Not just in marriage and being parents. In everything.”

Her fingertips skim over the barrel of an automatic rifle and he sees the look in her eyes; one he’s recognized some days when he glances in the mirror. The look of someone who has seen too much. Things a regular person can’t even begin to comprehend.

“What you take on, I take on.” she says.

“It doesn’t have to be that away.”

“It SHOULD be that way,” she argues, then sighs heavily and yanks her hand away from the gun, as if it’s dangerously hot to the touch and has scalded her skin. “Is it okay?” she asks, and then forces herself away from the table, nervously wringing her hands together. “The food?”

“It’s perfect. Didn’t realize I was this hungry. Thank you. You’re a good little wife.”

She sidles up next to him, placing the bottle on the table and leaning stomach first against the edge.  “I try. That’s what matters right?”

“Baby, you do more than try.  You get shit done.”

She gives a small smile, “You think they’ll be okay?” she asks, as her fingers absentmindedly pick at the label on the bottle of water. “The kids? While we’re gone?”

“We’ll only be gone three days.”

“It only takes a second for things to go to shit.”

“It’s not like we’re leaving them alone to fend for themselves. Ovi will be here. Nathan, Koen. The neighbor and her people have their eyes and ears on things. They’re in good hands. I’d be the first to say you’re not going if I thought otherwise.”

“It’s the first time leaving Addie for even an hour,” Esme frets. “I didn’t think I’d be this nervous about it. It’s not like she’s my first.”

“You’re a mom. Moms worry about their babies. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first or the last. It’ll be okay. THEY’LL be okay. We’ve got good people taking care of them. I wouldn’t leave them with just anyone.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You don’t even like leaving me with just anyone and I’m an adult.”

“And we need this. Some time away. Just us.”

Esme nods in agreement. “You realize we haven’t been anywhere together...without kids...in seven years?”

“We were in Dhaka,” he teases.

“Dhaka does NOT count. We didn’t even really know each other then. And no, Tyler. Knowing someone’s favourite sexual position and where their G spot is does NOT count as knowing them. Regardless of what you think.”

“We went away for the weekend after we got married,” he reminds her. “To Byron Bay.”

“I was pregnant with Millie so technically we weren’t alone.”

“Still acted like honeymooners though.” he grins. “Even with a baby in you.”

“We still act that way,” she laughs. “And it’s been six and a half years since we got married.”

“Six and a half? Feels like sixty,” he chides.

She frowns.  

“I’m teasing,” he says, and leans in to kiss her. “That's a good thing though, yeah? That we still want to fuck each other as bad as we do?”

“It’s flattering. I mean, I’m not exactly the same  person I was when we first met. I definitely don't look the same.”

“Neither do I.”

“But you just get better with age,” she laments. “I just get worse and worse every day. I’ve just become more of a mes. And not a hot one either.”

“Stop.  Stop talking like that. I fucking hate when you do that.  I wish you could just see yourself the way I see you; if you just saw yourself for one second through my eyes. And maybe you’re right. Maybe it does make me biased because I think you’re the most beautiful woman on earth. Because I think you’re cute and sexy and everything and anything in between. But it doesn't make it less true. I wish you’d stop tearing yourself down like that. Because it fucking kills me inside and I don’t know what more I can do or say to make you see yourself like I do.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admits, her voice trembling, eyes welling with tears. “I just haven’t been ‘right’ in what seems like forever. Since before Addie was born. Maybe even before Declan. I thought maybe it was just postpartum and that it wouldn’t go away on its own. But now I realize it’s been there and it’s getting worse and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop talking like that.”

“But there is though.” Esme insists. “There’s something wrong. I don’t know what is; I just know it’s there. It’s always been there. Just sometimes it doesn’t bother me and other days it does  but I just cope with it and deal.  I don’t know what it is or how to stop it and just feels like it’s choking me and it’s trying to take over. And I don’t want it  to take over.”

Placing the nearly empty plate of food beside him, he reaches out and lays a hand on the back of her head. Drawing her into him; spreading his thighs as she stands between them, her head coming to rest on his chest. He doesn’t know what to say. If she even wants him to say anything. So he opts for silence. One hand still on her head, the other on the small of her back; securely holding her place, feeling the way her hands tightly grip the back of his shirt.  

“And it’s not you,” she speaks through tears. “I know you’re thinking it is. That it’s you and it’s getting back onto the job and all the stuff with Mahajan and the neighbour and all of that.”

“It doesn’t help.”

“But it’s not that. And it’s not you. You’re the only thing that feels right and makes sense any more. It’s like there’s something or someone sitting on my chest and squeezing my heart and it just keeps getting tighter and tighter and I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m drowning and I can’t save myself. Or maybe I just want to save myself.  Maybe I just want to take over and then I don’t have to deal with it anymore.”

“Don’t talk like that.”  It’s a plea; raw and emotional.  Torn apart inside by hearing those words come out of her mouth; feeling the tears that soak straight through his shirt.

He’s been there. That deep, dark place that threatens to swallow you whole.  You know you should be fighting like hell to scratch and crawl your way out of it, yet it seems so much easier to give in and let it take you. It’s tiring: physically and emotionally. All you want is relief. Even if it is permanent. But to hear her talk that? The one person who’d crawled into that dark place with him and helped him out of it? It’s a pain like he’s ever felt before.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she says. “I can’t battle my own mind like this. I’m tired.”

“I know you are.”

“And I can’t be a good wife and a good mother like this. I know I can’t. And you’d better off and they’d be better off it…”

“Don’t,” Tyler orders. “Just don’t. Don’t even say what I know is coming next. Because it’s not true. It’s never going to be true. I need you. And our kids need you. So don’t ever think otherwise.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t stop it. One day I feel fine and the next I feel like this.”

“There’s a lot going on,” he attempts to reason. And none of it is good and it’s making everything else seem a lot worse. We’re dealing with a lot of shit and…”

“And now I’m moaning and crying to you and you have enough to deal with. You don’t need me being a whiny little baby on top of it. You've got enough on your plate.   You don’t need this crap too.”

“Didn’t you just say ten minutes ago that we’re a team? That we’re in this together?”

“I didn’t mean this. I meant what you’re dealing with. Not my stupid shit.”

“It’s not stupid shit,” Tyler argues. “It’s very real and very scary shit.”

“But it’s MY shit.”

“It’s OUR shit. You’re more important than any of this other crap. You’re all that matters. You and the kids. Everything else can wait until we figure out what to do for you. You don’t make me deal with all my mental crap alone. Why would I make you do it by yourself?”

“I don’t know why I feel this way. I shouldn’t.  I have a great life. I have you and I have beautiful, healthy children and I’m in this amazing country and everything should be perfect. I should be happy.  And I AM. It’s not about you or the kids…”

“I know it isn’t. You don’t have to explain any of this to me. I’ve been there, remember? I’ve been in this place. Many times. And you’re the one that always gets me out of it.”

“But what if I can’t get out of it? What if it’s too late?”

“It’s never too late,” he assures her.

“And what if I don’t want to get out of it? What then?”

“That’s just your brain talking shit. That’s not you talking. You’re the last person who would just give up.  Just take a breath and try and relax. Don’t think about a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

She sniffles. “That’s pretty deep, Tyler.”

“I have my moments.”

“I’m sorry.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “For what?”

“Being like this. For being fucked up. This is NOT what you need right now. You have so many other things to worry about and I’m just making it all worse.”

“You’re the only thing that matters to me. You should know that by now. Everything else can wait.”

“Maybe we do need to go away.”

“That’s not a maybe. That’s a definite yes.”

“It just hurts,” she admits. “But I don’t know what hurts. Or how to stop it from hurting.”

“Are you taking your meds?”

“That’s a turn of events,” she gives a small laugh. “You asking me that.”

“Are you? Taking them?”

She nods.

“You promise.”

“Every day, same time of the day. Maybe they’re not strong enough.”

“Maybe you need to call the doctor. Or the therapist.”

“She’ll want us both to go in. And I know you hate going there. And it will just make you miserable.”

“But if that’s what would make YOU feel better…”

“I don’t need to go see her. I’ll be fine. It’ll go away. It always does.”

“And it always comes back,” Tyler points out.

“Maybe I just need those three days away. Maybe I need that time alone with you. God, that makes me sound like a horrible mother. Like I can’t stand my own kids and I can’t wait to be away from them. Like…”

“You know what?” He takes his face in his hands. “Stop. Everyone needs to get away. Even from their own kids. We have five under six.  If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

“I appreciate you stroking my ego and trying to make me feel better. I do. But…”

“Just stop,” He presses a kiss to her lips.  “It’s going to be okay. You’ve got a shit on your plate. That I put there.”

“Okay, YOU stop now. This isn’t about you, Tyler. This is me and my fucked up brain and…”

“And we’re going to deal with it. You think just any woman could deal with what you do? Not just five kids but everything else that you’ve got going on? Me and my bullshit? The job? Mahajan and all the Dhaka crap you’ve just still going up there? You think just any woman could put up with all that?”

She swallows noisily. “I guess not.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. That I’ve ever known. I love you and I need you and I don’t ever want to hear you say I don’t. That I’d be better without you. You know where I’d be without? Dead. That’s a maybe. And I’m  not just talking about what happened on the bridge. That was the start of it. There’s been tons of times since then that you’ve kept me going. So I don’t want to hear that shit come out of your mouth ever again. Understand me?”

Esme nods.

“Regardless of what your brain tells you. I need you here. My life is better because you’re in it. I wouldn’t even have a life if it wasn’t for you. In more ways than one.”

Her smile is brighter now, her grip on his shirt loosening.  “You really are getting sappy in your old age.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just love you and I don't want to do this life without you.”

“I love you,” she says. “You have no idea how much.”

“It’s fun to guess.”

“I don’t think you can count that high. It’s tough for a guy who has to drop his pants to count to twenty one. Good thing you never lost a finger or a toe.”

Tyler grins. “Smart ass.”

“I do love you. Maybe I loved you too soon. But it felt right and it felt perfect and I don’t regret it. Not for a single second.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips; thumbs clearing away the few remaining tears.  “It’s going to be okay,  baby. You’re going to be okay.”

“You know what would make me feel better?”

“If I went down on you?” he chides.

“Well yeah, that’s an obvious answer. But maybe that can wait until later. It would make me feel better if we could get out of here for a little bit. Just go into town for a while. Just us. I can get Ovi to watch Declan and Addie and we can just do whatever.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I gotta pick up something anyway.”

“What kind of something?”

“Something that’s none of your business. A surprise.”

“For me?”

“Maybe…”

“How will it be a surprise if I’m with you?”

“Stop giving me a hard time. I’ll distract you with ice cream.”

“Now THAT’S a good idea. Do you think you can spare some time? I know you’ve got a lot going on and…”

“I’ve got all the time in the world for you. I’ll just finish up here and lock everything up. It’s nothing I can’t do later.”

“AFTER you go down on me,” she teases.

“I promise I will do that first.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I’m going to freshen up. I probably look like shit.”

“You’re beautiful,” he informs her. “Even when you cry.”

“You really are the most biased husband on earth. I won’t hold it against   you though.” She places her hands on his shoulders and stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I won’t be long.”

“Maybe you can find a pair of jean shorts and a yellow tank top,” he says, as she heads for the door.

She pauses on the threshold. “I was going to save those for our first day away. So I can be wearing those in the shack and you can be having serious deja vu.”

“And getting a serious hard on.”

“I don’t think Koen would appreciate you living out your kitchen table fantasy.”

“He doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

She grins. “I like the way you think. No wonder I married you. Smartest and best decision ever.”

“I knew your ex, remember? You definitely traded up.”

“I definitely did,”  she agrees.

He sighs heavily as he watches her go. Never remembering  a time he’d  felt this helpless.

****

He’d forgotten how nice it is when it’s just the two of them. Even something as simple as holding hands while wandering through the downtown core or leisurely browsing in stores and window shopping at others; sitting on a bench and ice cream while chatting and people watching. Little moments that so many take for granted and that he’d never realized he’d missed so much. Aside from a three day honeymoon (if it could even be called a honeymoon) in Byron Bay, the only time they’ve ever been truly alone was in Ireland after she’d arrived to help out with the Michael McMann fiasco. There’d been no kids to interrupt them and they could actually eat their meals together and have conversations where they could actually listen to what the other was saying; give one another their unwavering attention and concentrating on each other for change.  He’d missed his kids, naturally. Terribly.  But there’d been something...special...about that alone time with her.  

For six years they’ve put all their excess time and energy into raising a family. To the point they’d almost forgotten about what it was like to exist outside of that.   Only a year before they’d been strangers getting to know one another in Dhaka; in the most carnal way possible. Shortly after, everything had gone to complete and utter shit and he’d woken in a hospital bed with tubes and wires coming out of what seemed like every inch of his body and he’d been so relieved to see her sitting there. As if his brain had desperately wanted her to be there when it woke, and was terrified she wouldn’t be.  And then they’d found out she was pregnant with Millie and they were suddenly living together and struggling to learn how to co-exist as a couple and expectant parents. It hadn’t been easy. There had  even been times he’d wondered just what the hell he’d gotten himself into it. There was no way he was capable of being a husband and a father; carrying too much baggage and far too damaged for her to actually tolerate for too long.

Five kids later and she’s still hanging in there. Putting up with him even on his worst days and always looking at him like he’s the most incredible man on the entire planet. Always trusted; always feeling safe and secure and confident in his ability -and willingness- to protect her. And he’s not sure what he must have done in a precious life to deserve her, but he knows it must have been pretty damn good.

“Do I get to see what’s in there?” Tyler asks, when she emerges from one of the women’s shops with a paper bag -complete with ribbon around the handles and pink and purple tissue paper sticking out the top- clutched her chest.

“Nope. I told you. I was buying something for when we went away.”  She’s back to her normal self, or at a semblance of it.  The colour back in her face and the sparkle returned to her eyes.  And as much as she’d hate to hear him say it, she looks cute.  With her hair in a simple ponytail and just the slightest touch of eyeliner and mascara making those huge eyes stand out even more.  Clad in a simple cotton sundress dotted with black with yellow, pink and blue flowers.

“For me?”

She nods. “For me but for you at the same time. It’s a surprise.”

“A sexy surprise or…”

“I’m not telling you. Will you tell me what’s in yours?” she nods at the purchase he carries; a much smaller bag from the jewellry store three doors down.

“It’s not from me. It’s from the kids. They want to give it to you.”

“It’s from you. Don’t lie. Why do you want me to think it’s from the kids?”

“Because I don’t want you calling me cute or soft or romantic or any of that shit.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Is it cute and romantic?”

“Esme…”

She grins. “Tyler…”

“You give me a hint and I’ll give you one. Deal?”

“Fine. It’s two pieces.”

“What color is it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions. You said I just had to give you a hint. I gave you one. Now you get to wonder what it is for the next three days. What’s my hint?”

“It’s something you wear.”

“That’s a shitty hint!”

“It’s something sparkly that you wear.”

“Where do I wear it?”

“You don’t get to ask questions either. There’s two things, actually. One is from me, the other IS from the kids.”

“Two surprises? My birthday isn’t for two months. And it’s past Valentines Day and not even close to our anniversary. So you’ve either done something really bad or about to do something really bad and want to try and soften the blow.”

“Or...maybe…”  he lays a hand on her hip and pulls her into him. “...I just wanted to do something nice for you. Maybe I thought you deserve nice things and I don’t always come through with them.”

“I don’t need ‘things’. You know that.”  She’s never been a materialistic person; agreeing to marry him without even an engagement ring and not once, in six and a half years, ever mentioning the desire to have one. She’s simple and low maintenance; happy with just that rose gold wedding band and that weathered and frayed bracelet he’d bought off a vendor at the market in Dhaka. Seven years ago.

“I know. But I want you to have things. Don’t argue with me about the things.”

“Well I like the things?”

“I think you’ll  love the things.”

Both her arms wrap around his waist, two fingers on one hand hooking around a belt loop on his jeans, and her eyes sparkling as she smiles up at him. “As much as I love you?”

“I don’t know. How much is that?”

“A lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“As much as Millie loves glitter and unicorns. Times a million.”

He grins. “That’s a hell of a lot.”

“You can’t compete with that. You can say you love me more but there’s no way. There’s no way you can love me more than THAT.”

“I love you more than your son likes hot dogs in his spaghetti.”

She laughs, her forehead falling onto his chest. “Okay,  you win. Nothing can top your namesake’s love for that. I will never debate you again when you say you love me more.”

“You never stood a chance,” he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then lays a hand on the small of her back.

It’s both loving and protective without being overbearing.  The desire to keep her safe is the strongest it’s ever been; eyes constantly surveying the crowd even in their own small town.  Anxious to keep her as close as possible even as they walk the familiar sidewalks; pulling her tightly into his side or even bringing her in front of him if he feels someone passes by a little too close.  And it’s on one of these occasions, when he draws her into his right hip, that she feels the press of his holster against her.

“Really?” she asks.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

“You really they’d try anything with all these people around? And never mind that, do you really think someone could be watching us right now?”

“Michael McMann was watching me for a week in Guatemala and nearly two in Colorado and we had no idea.”

“But Salena..Allison...said they were keeping an eye on things. That they’d contact us if they heard of any close by threats.   It thought these people were still in India.”

“That’s what she said. Who’s to say Mahajan doesn’t have contacts that already live here.”

Esme  frowns. “Have you noticed anything weird.”

“Nope.”

She stops walking. “Tyler…”

“Just keep walking okay. Walk in front of me.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Please? Just walk in front of me. I’d feel better if you were in front of me.”

“There’s someone watching us right now isn’t there.”

“I don’t know for sure. So just do me a favour…” he places his hand back on her hip and guides her in front of him, then moves his palm to the back of her neck. “...just walk. Normally.  Don’t rush. Just pretend that everything’s fine.”

“Oh God,” she grumbles.

“Just a guy that’s been every place we’ve gone. Seems a little too interested in what we’re doing. Always looking away when I catch him watching us. He’s mostly looking at you so it could be just some fucking asshole checking you out.”

“Why would anyone check a woman out while she’s with her husband? Especially a husband that’s built like you?”

“He’s a pretty big guy.”

“Bigger than you?”

“Not by much.”

“Not by much? You're six three and you weigh two thirty five. That’s big enough!"

“It’s probably nothing. Normally they don’t like to call attention to themselves.”

“Who’s they?”

“Bad people. Usually they’re not that noticeable. He’s just been a little too...I don’t know...around.”

“Maybe he’s checking you out and thinks YOU’RE the hot one,” she teases.

“Stop here.  I want to stand with your back against me and pretend you’re taking a selfie but you’re really taking a picture of him. Okay?”

“I haven’t done shit like this in a while,” she frets.

“Just relax and do it. Trust me.”

Sighing heavily -and nervously- she leans with her back pressed against his front and takes his cell phone as he offers it to her. Plastering a fake smile on her face in hopes of not seeming suspicious. The man in question passing by mere seconds later; at least three inches taller than Tyler and maybe twenty pounds heavier. He doesn’t even glance in their direction; not even the slightest bit of side eyes or a glance over his shoulder as he continues down the sidewalk.

“Get it?” Tyler asks.

She nods and turns and tucks his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans.

“Good job, baby,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Good job.”

“Can we go home now?” She’s dangerously close to tears; entire body trembling. “I want to go home now.”

“It’s okay.” he lays a hand on the side of her face. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I just want to go home. Please take me home.”

“Okay,” he says, then kisses her softly before wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her in the direction of the truck.  “We don’t have to leave. It was probably nothing. Just me being paranoid.”

“I regret all the times I ever called you that.”

“Three quarters of the time I WAS being paranoid.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“Calm down. Everything’s fine. YOU’RE  fine. I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to happen to you when I’m with you. You should know that by now.”

“Let’s just go home. I’ll feel better when I’m home.”

“Alright. I’ll get you home.”

She snakes his arm around his waist and leans into his side; head tucked under his arm.  “It’s going to be okay, right? We’re going to be okay?”

“We’re going to be just fine,” he assures her. And hopes he sounds more confident than he feels.

[fe-husband-heaven]

Líf x Reader - Specter

Previous Writing Post: Dimitri N/S-F-W Alphabet!

aye...so that last story chapter gave me some feelings...and I feel bad disappearing from the blog so often (๑o̴̶̷̥᷅﹏o̴̶̷̥᷅๑)

Summary: Líf is an edgy brooding (with good reason) man and the Summoner is a curious puppy with no boundaries + Angst = This

_________________________________________

You tried to ignore Alfonse's terrified face as you pushed him past the dismantled entrance to the ruined Askr's hero hall.

His eyes were wide with shock and fear, and he reached out to grab you but the boulder and rubble that Líf had set as a precaution took over his view.

You disappeared behind it, and he was left to cry out your name, having to be pulled back from the unstable collapsed rock by his men.

Luckily, for both you and Askr's future, you pulled yourself back hard enough and far enough to the side to avoid being crushed or hurt significantly. You escaped with a couple scratches and a bruised ankle that you cried out a little for when a stray piece of stone smashed onto it.

You didn't notice Líf clench his fist at seeing you in pain, nor how he had shut his eyes and covered his ears when the trap came down and he thought you'd die.

"Ow...", you whined as you tried to stand up, stumbling clumsily for a moment.

"What is it that you want?", you looked up at Líf who was giving you a piercing glare. Red eyes were cold and impassive.

"You are no fool. You could have escaped with them. What are you after?"

You wiped your hands on your coat, ridding your gloves of the mucked up dust, before tilting back on your heels and smiling sheepishly at him.

"Eheheh, you caught me! I wanted to talk to you...alone."

He studied you for a moment before turning away.

"Go back. We will end this another day."

You sighed and started walking towards him, stopping just a few feet from him. Gods, what hardship he must have endured to become so jaded. He was nothing like the Alfonse who's eyes twinkled when he looked at you.

"No. We have to talk."

He turned his face to the side, trying to burn his stare through you.

"We've nothing to speak of. Go back."

You frowned for a moment but then broke into a laugh and smiled teasingly at him.

"Yeah, that's exactly what you were like when we first met."

You bounded up the rest of the way to him, and he flinched when you grabbed at his cape.

"Uwahh...how do you even fight in this?? It's so long!"

Líf tugged your hands away when you started flapping his cape up and down. He only managed a "Stop that." before you moved on to gape at his shoulder plate.

"Woahhh...do you stab people with your shoulders? Those spikes are so pointy! And..oh its attached to the cape thing..you guys have some strange fashion going on..."

Líf had enough of you standing on your tippy toes to touch the top of the spikes, and grabbed your wrists roughly, holding them in place so you couldn't go back to fondling his garb.

"Enough! I said to leave! Go, and don't come back."

Please.

Please, go back home where you'll be safe.

"I can't." You looked up at him confused, "You blocked off the exit."

Líf froze. He looked to you, the mess of gravel behind you, and then back to you. For the briefest of moments, he felt the long forgotten tickle of laughter in his chest.

But he quickly snuffed it out, he didn't deserve to, not when they couldn't.

"Besides, I want to talk to you."

When he realized he was still holding your wrists, he let go like you had burned him.

"Why don't we work together? Why do you...why do you have to suffer alone?"

He knew he shouldn't, but he wanted it anyway, to be at your side. He'd missed you so much, when you had left him, a part of him died with you.

"Don't be ridiculous. You and I are enemies, nothing more. Don't be a fool, I must destroy your world to regain mine."

You studied his face for a moment, he was so bleak now, and you cursed Hel for having made him so. You thought his words over for a moment before you gave him a bitter smile.

"To save someone from your world, you have to sacrifice one in ours."

He said nothing.

"..Then...when the time comes...will you kill me too?"

Neither of you spoke, you only stood staring as his facade finally broke. He looked so disturbed and distraught by the idea that it might be his own hands striking you down.

For once since you had first seen him, you saw the full extent of how tired and worn he was. He looked like he wanted to die.

And you felt your eyes sting at the sight of it, heart breaking for the one you called your other half. He didn't move when you closed the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight hug.

He was so so cold.

"You don't have to anymore...you don't have to be alone, it's not your fault, it never was."

He swallowed thickly.

"You.." he sounded so small, "..are still the same..."

You hadn't changed at all. You were still so selfless, so caring, so inviting...so warm.

He could never.

He could never harm you, no matter what world he hailed from. His precious Summoner, his treasured partner, his other half, he'd rather be cast to the pits of damnation than to be the one to take your life.

He'd already failed you once, he'd never wish for you to befall the same fate again. Even so, even though he knew he should be pushing you as far away as he could, to somewhere where you'd be free of the danger of this entire ordeal, his arms still snaked around you, pressing you tighter against his chest.

It had been a reflex, his body had long grown accustomed to wrapping his arms around you in comfort. Though you were considered the "Great Summoner", you were still human, a human that could still get lonely.

So far away from your own world, at the start, Askr had done little to feel like home. When he'd first happened upon your shivering form, furiously wiping away tears you intended on keeping to yourself, he'd felt his heart shatter and from there on, he was at your side every moment he could.

"..Y/N..my Y/N..."

Your name seemed so foreign on his tongue now, how long it had been since he last called it. Your scent was the same, you might be from a different dimension than his but his soul longed for you regardless.

He said your name so tenderly that for a second, you forgot it wasn't your Alfonse. After a couple more moments of quiet bitterness, you pulled back just enough to look at him. There was just glimmer of his old self in the way he looked at you.

"..Please don't make that face..."

He hated it on you, that pained expression, it made him want to shelter you from everything. A dark dark part of him whispered that he should just take you.

That he should steal you away from the other Alfonse, it would crush him, the same way it had him when he himself had lost you.

But he couldn't.

You would be so sad, and he'd rather relinquish ever meeting you again than for your smile to never grace your lips again. That smile was slowly blurring in his memory but he remembered loving it with every ounce of his being.

When he thought of it now, he'd feel an echo of fondness mixed with the twisting feeling of guilt, but when he was truly alive, it made his heart beat wildly.

You hadn't even noticed when you'd began crying fully, it felt like he was saying goodbye and it was so painful.

"I-" You swallowed, it hurt and your throat constricted in protest,

"I want to help you.."

He gently wiped away traces of tears from your face,

"You can't."

Sweet sweet Summoner, don't waste your time trying to save me. You won't listen, and you'll try again, but I will in turn stay as far away as I can from you.

I have already spent too much time near you, Hel can sense the living, those who she has not turned into her minions. If she knows you're precious to me, she will hunt you down. So stay away, as far as you can be, in a place far away from a war of the living and dead. A place far away from me.

I

lo e

y u

You were growing frustrated, did he truly believe working together would accomplish nothing?

"But-" You opened your mouth to speak but an ear piercing explosion cut you off. Shrieking, you shut your eyes and felt yourself being pulled under Líf's cape.

As the rubble settled, you felt the cape slip off and rubbed at your eyes from the unsettled dust having brought a stinging sensation to them.

You heard hurried footsteps from where the boulders blocking your way had been blown to bits. Turning just in time to see through teary eyes as Alfonse burst through the cloud of dust.

He looked panicked then relieved when his eyes locked onto you. Practically flying over to you, you were almost knocked over by the force of his sudden embrace.

"Oh thank the gods.."

Alfonse had buried his face in the crook of your neck, brows furrowed in both relief and the surge of emotions taking their toll...before they quickly became furrowed in anger instead. He took hold of your shoulders in a firm grip and you were a little shell shocked at his sudden change.

"Y/N, don't you ever do that again."

The full force of guilt hit you like a truck, he looked absolutely wrought with worry, and your guilt only festered when he continued.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"

He held your face in his hands and studied every inch of your face, searching for even the smallest scratch. The effects of Zacharias' disappearance made clear. You pulled him back into a hug and apologized.

"I'm sorry, Alfonse..I'm okay, I'm alright, I'm safe."

You physically felt him deflate against you, his shoulders loosened from their tense state and he relaxed against you, taking a moment to calm down. By the time the two of you separated, his adrenaline was gone and a wave of tiredness hit him.

His attention was on you when you gasped, "Ah! I totally forgot!" You turned around to face Líf, "The two of you need to...Líf?"

He was gone.

[v01d-ch1ld]

Bad Always Becomes Worse in Gotham, and Worse Usually Turns into Dead

Author’s note: Yes. This is an official update. Yes, it did take forever. No, sadly, I am not dead. This chapter is part of an all-nighter writing binge. At this point, I have written this chapter three times and I hope I am satisfied this time. I am using the power of emo music and naps to keep sane right now because my personal life is #rough at the moment so this is going to be that edgy™ chapter where afterward September and some of my real-life friends are going to ask me about my mental health. (If you guys are reading this I’m fine just super sleep-deprived and sore because of work and insomnia and caffeine are taking their toll.) Lean back and enjoy the ride.

Warning! This chapter contains descriptions of violence, rape, mental health disorders, drug use, and death. Do not read if you are squeamish or under the age of 13. (If you are 12 and on Tumblr you have problems anyways.)

 Tonight was becoming a fickle thing. Jason was in desperate need of a plan. Bruce, four-time winner of Father of the Year, just took a victim to a mental asylum, like the warm and compassionate human being that he is. Nothing that had been done that night had really been her fault and it was nearing close to dawn. He was running out of time. If the sun rose and the Red Hood was still active he was toast. Then there was the lovely array of bullet wounds his ex-crush had given him. Jason didn’t know what to do. Becca had shot him and tried to kill him, he tried to kill her, saved her, tied her to a bedframe (ironically enough, the room she was tied up in used to be his when he lived at the manor), and then she broke free, shared a sob story, attacked his ex-employer, and then kissed him. That was a whole clusterfuck of mixed signals to be worked out with Roy, cigarettes, and about three bottles of scotch. Jason shook his head, he could focus on that later, he needed to call Kori so he could get his girl out of Arkham.

He hobbled out of the Batcave having left his hood, jacket, chest plates, one of his boots and his guns in the cave. He still had his own modified comlink on. That was something he never took off, and while he used the one installed in the HUD in his hood he kept one private one for his team on him at all times in case he felt the need to stray from Bruce’s morals and blow some fuck’s brains.

“Kori?” Jason quietly spoke into the com. The walls have ears in Wayne Manor. Those ears are named Timberly Jackass Drake and Damian “Demon Brat” Wayne. If they warn Bruce he’s sicking Kori and Artemis on him before he’s in a safe house then he’s fucked. Last time he deviated it took Red Hood out of commission for three months, he would be taking no such risks this time. He held his breath until he heard her respond.

“Hood, what is it? Are you okay?” Kori’s voice came through his earpiece clear as a bell. He let out his baited breath.

“Yes. I am at the manor. You need to come get me. I got hit a lot tonight.” Jason murmured, walking towards his old room like he is planning on resting.

“What happened? You Bats make dodging bullets look easy.” Kori teased but Jason heard the underlying concern. She was always so caring, even heartbroken. (Dick was a moron. End of story.)

“I was up against a sharpshooter. A familiar face. Remember when I told you about the girl that I lost?”

“Your beloved? But I thought she died.” He had told Kori that he loved her as much as she loved Dick. It wasn’t far off but he was pretty sure he loved his girl more. He smiled at that.

“It seems that she and I have that in common. Listen she’s in bad shape. We all know the kind of damage that the Joker can do. He made her a criminal and Bruce is taking her to Arkham. We need to intercept him and get her out of their hold and hide her so that maybe I can get her help. Crazy as she has been made to be she still listens to me.”

“Jason. Is this really the right call? She is unstable. She could be dangerous. Who knows how the Joker could have brainwashed her? You remember his mind tricks.” Kori’s voice is gentle like she understands the true bite of her words. Jason frowns because, yes, he does remember and she does have a valid point.

“I’m sure. Make sure we keep her in one of our more secure safehouses. Send Artemis and when you drop me off at the house, join her because she will need reinforcements no matter how much she protests.” Jason grunts as he lies down in the bed he had tied his friend to. He can’t get past that. Becca, his babydoll, was turned into the Jester. A shell.

“Okay, I will be there in a few minutes. I had to wrap something up.” She hangs up tersely.  Translation: I was beating the fuck out of the gang lord I have been chasing and had to end it early because of your needy ass. Fuck it. He could deal with spoiling her fun later. He needed Becca safe.

 04:07 GCPD Headquarters, Gotham City

 Batman dragged the fighting and kicking Jester, though gagged and hogtied, into the police station. They had a cell waiting. He had removed her shoes because the wedge heel had been most unpleasant when hitting him in the ribs. Now she was still kicking him but through the Kevlar and titanium plates, he could hardly feel a thing. He had to used cord from his grapple to tie her up because the cuffs had been jimmied, the zip ties bitten off (hence, where the gag came in), and the rope broken with her enhanced strength. The weaved titanium of his grapple line would withstand her strength and tied the way he tied it would not come undone but only get tighter as she struggled.

                 Jim Gordon stood in the lobby of the building staring at the girl with a hard stare. He walks over and removed her gag.

               “I want to know if there is any hope in saving you.” Of course, he did. Becca was friends with Barbra. Like Bruce, he had become a father to her. Jester looked up at him and bared each one of her teeth showing how her canine teeth have been slightly elongated and filed to sharp points, no wonder she had bitten through the zip ties.

               “Men like you are the reason that people like me exist, to show the world that there is no hope.” She grins, “How’s Babs doing lately? Still can’t walk after all that physical therapy?” After that Batman, no Bruce, punched her in the stomach and Jester has the nerve to laugh.

               Looking back on her father’s lessons, she laughs the way she was taught to laugh to inspire fear. Slowly and quietly chuckling, smirking and then picking up the volume gradually until the sound of her insanity bounced off the walls. Sneaking a look around she saw some of the officers look at her in horror. Gordon looked disheartened, Bruce was stoic.

               “Take her to the holding cell and keep her tied up on the floor. And take the cot out,” Gordon barks to his men who respond with a shaky “yes sir” and cautiously approach the Jester, who is still doing her father proud, laughing up a storm. “The transfer truck should be here in an hour, we’ll take it from here.” He said to the Bat, who grunted his response and was gone in the time it took the commissioner to blink.

               Shaking his head, Gordon watched as the drug a still laughing Jester to the area where her mugshot would be taken. He sighed, he never likes watching kids go through the process of being entered into the system.

                 04:47 a holding cell inside of Gotham City Police Headquarters

               Lying on the floor of the cell Jester wanted to kill someone. Her arms were stretched uncomfortably, and her feet were numb, and she was cold. She supposed that she should also be in pain. For once she was glad that she couldn’t feel those sensations anymore. How long were they going to keep her waiting? Did she have to break out of here and WALK to the Asylum? She began to try to twist her wrists only to stop when she felt blood running down her arms. Great, now she was bleeding more than before. Jason may be on the wrong side of the law for her right now, but he was a great shot she had to admit. Almost as good as her teacher. Speaking of which, she still had to thank Floyd for giving her the custom pistols that are now locked up in evidence. Fuck she had to get those back those meant something to her dammit!

               Rolling over, she looked through the tiny ass window that they give the jailbirds to taunt them with their freedom. Arching, her back she grabs the knife that she stole from her charming new boy-toy and prayed that it was the right knife. She began to test the blade against the wire and it cut. She almost screamed in joy but remembered that she was in a police station and it was only so long before one of the officers found out that she had escaped her bonds. Once she did, however, she wasted no time in breaking the lock with a combination of the knife and her doctored strength.

               Near instantly the alarms started going off and the hallway was flooded with officers. I guess now would be the time to garner that plan to get her guns back. She started in on her prey with deadly efficiency. Taking one arm and immediately dislocating his shoulder and grabbing his gun while using him as a human shield from the first volley of bullets. Taking measured shots, she used the six-shot magazine to take out the best shots. Once they were down and she knew that she had better odds of dodging bullets she picked up one of the guns that had skittered across the now blood-stained floor and set to work. She shot the ones on point first as they were getting a little close, dropped a leg on some guy who was trying to grab her, caught his gun as he fell and shot him in the head. A dark-haired female officer cussed in Spanish as she walked into the room grabbing her gun from her shoulder holster. Electric green eyes snapped to her and she was shot in the right shoulder in an instant, the gun falling out of her hand. Turning and shooting three more men who were coming from behind she takes the top off the gun and jams it into another officer’s throat picking up two pistols she shot down another cop who had walked in before he could cock his shotgun. Blood now covered some of the walls in an indiscriminate pattern.

               “IIIIIIIII S-SHOULD HAVE WARNED YOOOOOOOOU!” Jester screams before she begins to cackle like the hellcat she is. Rushing the last few men, she slides through the pooling blood in the hall toward the now open shotgun. Picking it up, crouching, and cocking in a swift move she fires blowing one man about a yard back and scattering his insides all over part of one of the walls and the floor. Loading and spin cocking the gun Terminator-style, she proceeds to dispatch a few more policemen before she strolls out of the hall with five guns strapped to her and 6 more shotgun cartridges. More cops stand in front of her as she starts a bloodbath.

 Meanwhile

05:04 Gotham City Police Headquarters

 Jason Todd didn’t know what to think, but the Red Hood was already unholstering his pistols by the time he got inside the building. Once he got inside though, even the Red Hood froze. His babydoll was straight-up murdering the police. They stood no chance. Granted, he himself is capable of doing what she is doing right now but he had never had the cause. He never simply decided that he was going to murder an entire police station, but here she was doing exactly that. Gordon was returning fire with his revolver from behind an upturned desk, several other officers were taking a page from his book and using desks as shields too. The Jester was also behind a desk, more visible from his angle and using some complicated gun tricks and a mirror to further up her kill count.

               “By the Gods,” gasped Artemis from behind him to his left. She was right. This was almost Ares-level carnage. He almost turned around to alter the plan he set up somewhat when Jester made a move.

               Rushing to the right and into a smaller hallway off the room she shoots two more officers in the head and breaks into the room at the end of the small hallway. The police share a collective curse, still not having noticed the Outlaws in their headquarters. That room was evidence and weapons lock up. Guns from every recent arrest in the city were stored there. Now she had an arsenal.

               Arsenal, Jason’s best friend not thing that Jester was currently drooling over behind the doors of evidence lock-up, spoke up in Jason’s com right then: “Hey buddy? Need some help?” he offers coolly. Jason knows for a fact that this is now being televised and that his time was now super limited.

               “I am so glad to hear from you right now. Yes, I need you to find me the closest and most secure safehouse you can.” Jason was not about to tell his friend to come here. Not when he was still recovering from Slade kicking his bowed behind to Bludhaven and back. Roy lets out a curse, most likely due to not being invited to the fun.

               “Fuck you always know how to dampen my hopes, man. Alright. I’ll give you a location in 15 minutes.”

               “You have five, Hood out.”

 BOOM!

“Oh fuck! What’s happening now?!” one of the officers shouts. That came from evidence. Everybody’s head turns to see grenades coming out of lock-up. Shit. Artemis tackled him behind the desk closest to the Commissioner’s office. Starfire had dived the opposite direction with two other officers behind one of the vending machines that had been flipped sideways. The detonation killed one more officer leaving only the Outlaws, two detectives, Gordon alive. Jester took this opportunity, her pistols, and a machine gun and broke for the exit, spreading the ammo from the gun so that no one could shoot back at her. Once on the street, she booked it.

Jason cursed. Out of his grasp again.

 Batman was going to be pissed.

  19:00 Dock 19 Gotham City Harbor

Jester crawled out of the shadows to a familiar warehouse. One of the many lairs her father had and where she was to report if she ever got caught. Not even Batsy knew about this one. She walked inside with her head held low out of exhaustion. She had been careful not to be seen all day. But now that darkness had fallen she longed for a joint and her bed. Walking in past the lookouts who were very surprised to be seeing her so soon after she got caught by the Bats, she stumbled upon Ivy and Harley having date night on the couch. Gross. Choking down bile, she drags herself into her area she flops down onto a pile of beanbags and begins to grind.

Her head was spinning with adrenaline and stress and her hands shook when she opened her grinder. Taking out her jar of weed that Ivy, one of the secret villain stoners, had grown specifically for her. It was basically really strong Sherbet Indica times about twenty. She is just about done grinding when she finally gets noticed.

“Ah, look what the cat dragged in.” Harley teased while she was in Ivy’s arms. Ivy looked down on her with disapproval, Harley ignored her as always. She really needed to start learning that being a brat would only get you into trouble with the doms she hung out with. Rolling her eyes Jester decided to ignore her. But that never worked with Harley Quinn the bitch would only try harder. “I’m surprised your new boy-toy doesn’t have you tied up.”

“Oh, he did Harl and guess what? I can defiantly say that it was better than any action you’ve gotten from a guy lately.” Nodding her respect for Pam. That bitch’s tongue could solve world peace if used applicably and almost every female villain knew it. Jester included after one night of a lot of rough flirting. It took a lot of gin, but the look on Harley’s face was worth it.

“Like you would know? You’ve only had sex like what three times? And two of them were MY sloppy seconds!” she squeaked indignantly. Jester had to admit that stung. Joker had raped her twice shortly after her arrival in his custody. While the act had only lasted less than half an hour each time, the pain and the mental scarring had been debilitating for weeks. It was something for which not even Jester could forgive him.

“At least I’ve never had chlamydia!” Jester flung back at her, rolling her joint deceptively calm.

“You little skank! I’ve never had chlamydia!” Harley yelled just a little too loudly for it to be true. Pamela looked at her in a very motherly way. Tired of our shit.

“Yeah that’s why you had to put on that fugly looking brunette wig, so you could go to the free clinic last month. Remember me laughing at you after I drove you there?” Jester said smirking evilly from her rolling tray.

“I-I, you little-“ Harley was cut off by the booming rage of the Joker.

“JESTER COME HERE NOW!” and with that, Harley was sent into fits of glee, laughing so hard she fell off the couch.

“Y-you a-are in so much trouble.” She panted between giggling fits.

Jester rolled her eyes, took her joint, lit it, dragged, and puffed the smoke at Harley and ashed it on her while she was rolling on the floor with tears in her eyes laughing. She yelped when the hot ash burned her stomach. Jester snarled at her as she walked past Harley and Ivy and up the stairs that led to the upstairs part of the warehouse where her father was waiting.

“What happened!?” he yelled, spittle going everywhere.

“First, say it don’t spray it,” that earned her a hard slap, “Second, I ran into some unforeseen circumstances.” She shrugged and dragged her joint. That was all there was to say on the matter. She was not about to tell “I have killed people for looking at my daughter wrong” that she had reconnected with her old crush. Like hell.

“Oh, really? And what exactly were those unforeseen circumstances?” He was pissed now. It was all in the narrowing of his eyes, the intensity of their chemical glow, the twist of his smile. He rested his head on his hands with his eyes half-lidded. That was usually when people started to decorate the walls.

“A rather rambunctious and familiar pain in my ass by the name of Red Hood.” That was a double touch on her part cleverly disguised as a dig on the bat family.

“I see. Make sure our little failed boy blunder doesn’t ruin any other parties we have in the future due to your incompetence. Understand?” he’s sneering at this point.

“Understood.”

 “Just wait until you hear my plan for our next party, Daddy! I promise you will have the time of your life!”

 “I had better.”

 The smoke carried on into the shadows and dissipated.

@schweeeppess @dcuniverse-fanatic @dc-hoe @ravennightingaleandavatempus

[malliebuu]

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 Day 3: Just This Once…

 Author’s Note: All of my 2017 October smutfest prompts are connected. I have links at the bottom of each submission for easier navigation. Enjoy!

 ..

 ..

It wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. Not at all. Especially when a male counterpart was concerned. He had bought the girls all drinks, and had been making eyes with Bulma in particular. He had showed interest in her from the start, which she had been genuinely flattered. She had never been one to turn down attention from an attractive man. When she wasn’t in a relationship, of course, and that she extremely was; single.  

 Bulma felt from the beginning it was completely unnecessary to prolong this little game he had going on. She didn’t want to fuel the fire. She originally had absolutely no intentions of leading him to believe anything would or could happen. Especially from the start. One usually doesn’t intend on making any moves based on a single drink. Though, what helped move things along, in her mind, was Juu’s pep-talk. She had spoken to her honestly. To Bulma’s shameless discovery, she learned something about herself. She was making her way down a path of seclusion, and by no way was this beneficial. No, she hadn’t for a long time. Juu was right. She didn’t need to sleep with twenty men in order to feel needed or loved. No, that wasn’t what Juu intended or wanted.

 Bulma knew she didn’t need to fool around to get Yamcha out of her system, but she could have some fun. Even if it was involved, sex between two consenting adults in a healthy environment was sometimes needed, or ‘ok’, right? No, she just needed to be herself and enjoy life as it came. She had always been the one to take life as it came. She enjoyed the ride, making healthy well thought out decisions-- sometimes-- No one is perfect.

 That woman she had left behind was fun, spontaneous, and edgy. She said what was on her mind, did what she felt necessary and didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. Not only that, but before she would have basked in the attention the opposite sex offered her. Attention was something she enjoyed and appreciated. She harnessed her strong will and enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing she could bring about the same sense of appreciation in others. She felt like the shell of a woman that once was. Juu had been even more blatant than usual these past few weeks. She had been harshly asserting her opinions from the moment her short lived relationship ended, no doubt, but Bulma needed to come back. The Bulma who everyone knew and loved needed to push past this sense of uselessness and move on. Juu was right. She needed to have fun. She needed to embrace what was happening tonight. She didn’t need to do anything dramatic, but she could be a little scandalous. Shit, maybe she would do something a little dramatic. Just this once...

 ..

 ..

 He had a nice smile. His teeth were perfectly white and straight. He had a small dimple on his right cheek when he grinned and a beauty mark just below his eye. His eyes were something of a different breed, as well. They were expressive and emotion filled when he spoke, yet there was something else; something dark. When he engaged a person it felt like he was reading the, learning their inner most darkest of secrets. It intrigued her, yet scared her at the same time.

 He was an enigma.

 Though, if there was one thing she did know about him, he was a passionate dancer.

 He had taken the lead immediately. With care, he guided her through the masses, urging her to stay close. They arrived in front of the multi-level stage located just under the DJ. He grinned again, pulling her close, brushing his lips to the side of her face. Her palms pressed tightly to his chest, feeling the heat of his breath against her face. The beat from the six-foot speakers radiated a pleasant caressed over them, causing her eyes to close.

 “I told you we were going to dance. You ready?” His silky voice inquired.

 Bulma bit her lower lip, opened her glittering blue eyes and nodded, wrinkling her nose as a hazy wave overcame her.

 He moved behind carefully pressing her bare back flush to his chest. His large palm spanned her midsection, pressing tightly only to glide her back so her round rear formed snugly against the front of his pants. Bulma’s breathing hitched in her throat, finding it impossible to breath. His actions surprised her. He wasn’t shy. Her palms extended awkwardly, finding it utterly impossible to locate a home for them. Almost as if he felt her discomfort, Vegeta leaned in, feeling his lips dangerously close to the shell of her ear.

 “Relax,” He urged, pressing his palm tightly against her stomach as he rocked their hips back and forth, finding the tempo.

 Bulma nodded, wetting her dry lips and allowed her arms to relax at her sides. Her eyes drifted downward as she felt his palm move. She watched as his fingertip toyed with the material of her blouse. She wanted to respond, but felt it was best to allow him to take the lead. Something told her he was very capable of taking the lead in all things. He seemed to be the type of man that molded things to him liking and image. Her palm then rested instinctively to his. Her hips rolled back, meeting him strongly, only added more sensuality to the mix. The soft catch in his throat told her he was enjoying her boldness.

 As the tempo of the song continued to escalate, so did their movements. His palm came down, stroking the soft flesh of her upper arm, guiding it upward and over her head until her palm rested on the thick, unruly locks upon the back of his head. His fingers spread wider upon the soft flesh of her stomach, drifting up dangerously close to the swells of her breasts. Hot breath burst from her lungs.

 “You’re beautiful,” He muttered against her earlobe. Heat pooled through her belly, nearly causing her to lose balance.  

 The hem of her sheer blouse came up just above her belly button. Bulma glanced down, feeling the remanence of cool air caress over her now bare flesh. She hesitated and quickly shifted her palm from his neck to her stomach, attempting to hide her skin. He immediately caught her wrist and pulled it back. Her suitor placed his chin upon her shoulder, running his lower lip against the soft skin of her shoulder. He was shaking his head.

 “Don’t hide. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Bulma released a soft nervous laugh, biting her lower lip and slowly resumed their motions.

 She stayed this way for a while, caught to his chest until she made the conscious decision to turn toward him, pressed her curvaceous form against his muscled chest. He seemed to like this very much, and so did she. His palms brushed over her sides, gliding over the swells of her ass. So comfortable she became, that Bulma even made the bold attempt of stroking her fingers over his shoulders and down to his pectorals. Surprisingly she wasn’t ashamed.

 Bulma originally had no intentions of seducing this man, but thanks to the alcohol and a little physical stimulation, she was ready to leave with him at this point. She was becoming weak. The end of the highly stimulating song brought her back to reality once more, however. How long had they been embraced, dancing in this fashion?

 “I need to find my friends.” Bulma whispered into his ear, pulled back from him, giving herself some much needed time to cool down.  

 His onyx eyes were roving, however, his intense gaze fell and was replaced by a look of  concern, “You are leaving?”

 Bulma grinned softly, placing a palm to her cheek, “I have to leave at some point. It is getting late.”

 Vegeta shuffled her to the edge of the dance floor, closer to the bar where it was comparably less noisy. Lifting his watch, pressing a button and illuminating the screen, the man grinned playfully, “It is only 12:30.”

 Running a hand through her damp hairline, Bulma crossed her arms over her chest, “Look, I know what you want.”

 Gripping her palm, the dark haired man directed her toward two vacant bar seats. She sat down, sighed in sweet surrender as the pressure from her toes was quickly alleviated. He didn’t say anything to her remark. Instead he ordered her a water and himself his drink of choice-- they, of course, were reminded twice not to forget his three olives.

 Her dark haired dance partner licked his lips, taking a small swig of his freshly made dry martini. He sighed and casually leaned against the bartop.  His calculating eyes were finally glancing her way. They broke contact only once as he nodded to the chilled glass of water, indicating she needed to hydrate. Bulma smiled sweetly and took up the straw, sucking down half of the glass’ contents.

 “You know,” Bulma said, clearing her throat, “If you want to sleep with me, all you have to do is ask.” Her eyes focused on the cubes floating freely in her glass.

 She tightly gripped and toyed with the straw, finding it damn near impossible to look him in the eye at this point. Especially after what she allowed escape her mouth. Heat flushed across her cheeks, cursing herself twenty different ways in her mind, still not being able to believe she even said that outloud.

..

 Oh well, it isn’t like I am planning on marrying the guy…

 ..

 She felt him lean in. The heat of his gaze was a hard thing to ignore. His thighs straddled her crossed legs, placing his palm against the bare skin of her knee. His thumb traced circles against the flesh, leaning in closer only to cup her chin, lift her gaze and press a wordlessly, breathtaking kiss to her lips.

 She only flinched at first when he boldly took what he wanted. Though, she wasn’t offended. No, her body responded quite well. She groaned against his mouth, and even leaned in as him, attempting to take more than what he could give in such a public place. He pulled away abruptly, offering a smirk as his lidded eyes scanned her face.

 “I’m not cheap.”

 Bulma giggled, placing a palm to her lips. She went to respond, but the words died in her throat as a happy squeal broke her concentration.

 “There you are!” Juu shouted, causing the duo to abruptly pull apart.

 “Jesus, Juu, where have you been?” Bulma asked, smoothing her garments over her thighs.

 “Dancing. We figured you two needed your own space,” Juu winked, leaning in to whisper the last part, “If you know what I mean.”

 “Stop.” Bulma shook her head, shifting a watchful eye toward her handsome admirer. He was too busy sipping on his martini to even notice or care about the exchange happening between her and Juu.

 “Look, Chi-chi is done. The bouncer if force feeding her water, literally with a spoon. I told him I was going to look for you and to watch her. I don’t want to leave her for long. I think I am going to have her spend the night at my place tonight just in case, you know? Do you need me to get you an ubber? I have the app pulled up.” Juu inquired, shifting a side glance toward their unusually silent patrone.

 “You don’t have to do...” Bulma shook her head, waving her palm dismissively.

 “Too late, already ordered. Go home. Drink lots of water. Are you going to be ok if I leave?” Juu asked, wrapping an arm around her blue haired friend’s neck and placing a wet kiss to her cheek. The blonde pulled back and looked her in the eye.

 “Yeah, I was planning on leaving here soon anyway.” Bulma offered a reassuring smile.

 “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Her friend whispered in her ear enthusiastically. Something told her it was more mocking than anything.

 “Don’t you worry. I won’t.” Bulma retorted in a sing-song voice and shoved her away, “Go back to Chi. Call you tomorrow!”

 “Love you!” Juu called over her shoulder as she ran in her heels toward the exit.

 Bulma took one more swig of her water before standing abruptly. Shifting her skirt down her thighs, she turned to face him. One arm was rested casually upon the bar top, the other resting upon the top of his thigh. His dark onyx eyes focused upon the olives garnishing his drink. Biting her lower lip, she turned toward the nearest bartender currently washing glasses and waved for a pen. Taking up the pen and a napkin, Bulma quickly wrote down her address.

 “If you are staying around the area later.” Bulma glided the napkin toward his half full glass, “I, uh, don’t live far from here. Only if you want to, of course.”  She uttered softly, tucking a soft strand of her hair behind her ears in a nervous fashion.

 His index finger traced the edge of the napkin, casually looking up to meet her stare. The corner of his lip quirked, amused by her behavior.

 “Look, I don’t usually do this… um.” Bulma whispered, continuing to nervously chew her lower lip.

 “I am not judging you.” His gruff voice cut her off, “We all have needs.”

 A soft, knowing smile formed on her lips, “Uh, ok, well, I am going to go. Nice to meet you.”

 Lifting his martini glass up to his lips a coy grin formed, “Remember what I said earlier.”

 Confused, Bulma nodded her acknowledgement, wordlessly drifting toward the exit. She didn’t dare turn back to get one last look. Once she knew she wasn’t in his line of vision, she closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, questioning her sanity. Was she crazy? Giving this man she had only met a few hours ago her personal address. Offering to come to her home and fuck her? Yep, she was insane.

 ..

 Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck.

 ..

 Almost making it to the door, a warm hand gripped her wrist only to spin her around. Vegeta cupped the back of her neck, kissed her deeply and pressed his lips tightly to her ear.

 “Go home. I still have half a drink. Get into the sexiest lingerie you own. I will meet you at your door. Make sure you are wearing it when I arrive.” Slowly, his palm drifted over the middle of her back, descending until he cupped her rear end tightly in his palm. Bulma released a surprised gasp, looking him intently in the eye. Her lips dropped open, eyes wide as she nodded her understanding. He released her and left her without another word.

 …

 Jesus… what am I doing?

 …

 ..

..

 Up next: Striptease

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:Day 1_Day 2_Day 3_Day 4_Day 5_ Day 6_Day 7_Bonus Day 8_Bonus Day 9: