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soapybutt17 · 1 year ago

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Baby Mama

Summary: Downtime was rare and far in between, but with your maternity leave now done and over with, your husband thought it would be a good time as any to invite everyone to your shared home for a mini celebration. It should have also been a good idea to let everyone know about the small little fact that not everyone was made aware of your relationship or the fact that there was a sleeping baby upstairs that hated Soap’s boisterous laughter for some reason. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish. Farah Karim. Alex Keller. Kate Laswell. Word Count: 2,313 Chapter Warnings: None.

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“Sit down, Rookie. We’ve got it covered.”

You wanted to glare at your husband and the rest of the taskforce that had made it their mission to ensure you were not in-charge of handling meal preps for the upcoming party you and your husband had decided to start in celebration for both your return back to the base as well as the success of their previous mission.

“Why do I feel like a guest in my own home?” You playfully questioned as Gaz placed a cup of tea in front of you. A reassuring smile rested on his lips.

“You’ve been wide awake until the early morning taking care of the little girl sleeping upstairs. Quite frankly, we’d prefer you to sleep instead than deal with the rest of us here.” Gaz explained as he returned back to helping Soap with prepping for the marinade for the barbeque.

“I’ve dealt with worse.” You pouted, ignoring the pointed look on your husband knowing they were right.

“Just because you’ve dealt with it on missions doesn’t mean you should deal with it in our home, Darling.” John sighed wiping his hand to come sit beside you on backyard patio.

Since your maternity leave and your husband’s own paternity one, you’ve somehow gotten enough money and time to make some new renovations to the home. One that you were proud of the most was the patio that would not only be a place for you and your husband to enjoy for yourselves, but for the guest he was slowly but surely becoming welcome to inviting—especially now.

With Soap and Gaz prepping the marinate and vegetables and Simon dealing with most of the meat (surprised by the fact that he was once a butcher before joining the military), you and your husband were left to your own devices for a while.

“Little Katherine still asleep?” He inquired.

You turned your attention towards the baby monitor, seeing your daughter thankfully still asleep in her crib.

It still amazes you that this little human was a product of your love and devotion to your husband. Even with her arrival an unplanned surprise for the both of you, you’ve both taken it to stride and made the most out of the experience. Your husband hoping for another few along the way but you made him promise to wait until little Katherine was a little older first.

“Asleep for once.” You sighed resting your head against your husband’s shoulders as you two continued watching the boys helping out for the party. “Why are we letting them help us with our own party again?”

“They did this to themselves surprisingly. When they heard we’re having this party, they immediately worried about you and the baby and adding the mess of the party to the mix. You’ve got those boys wrapped around your fingers and it’s worrisome at times.”

You giggled nudging him slightly at this comment.

“Speaking of people wrapped around your fingers, Alejandro and Rudy will also be coming tonight.”

You smiled, happy to know more of the friends you’ve made during missions have also come to visit. Having missed your time on the base, having them here for a get together would be a treat. You would also be ignoring the implication of your husband’s words towards Las Almas’ Colonel and Sergeant Major.

Somehow, it had become a topic of discussion for the rest of the boys how the Colonel had a little crush on you which you thought was ridiculous. Alejandro Vargas was nothing but professional to you and to the rest of the team. As far as you know, the man was just a little appreciative of the help you had given to them during Grave’s takeover of his base all those months ago, nothing more.

“You think Kate, Farah, and Alex would be able to visit too?” You inquired.

“They’re already on their flight here.” He smiled arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Kate’s been bugging me about the house when I told him about the renovations.”

You shook your head already imagining how much teasing Kate probably needed to do for him to finally relent in having the party here instead of renting a place.

A sudden thought had popped into your head as you turned directly towards your husband.

“Hold on, aside from the three boys, who else knows about our relationship?” You inquired.

He blinked only realizing himself that he hasn’t gotten around and told anyone about the two of you. Everyone had become aware of him having a wife and the paternity leave he had to take meant everyone was also aware that he was a new father, but no one not even Kate was made aware that you were the wife and the mother of his six-month old daughter.

“John did you not tell them yet?” You questioned.

“I may or may not have forgotten to tell everyone.” He grinned sheepishly.

Before you could give him an earful, the sound of your daughter’s cries halted you from your actions. You’ve all but noticed the sigh of relief that escaped his lips. Oh you’re going to get back at him for this somehow. You just know it.

“Rookie, it’s good to finally see you. How’s the leave been?”

Captain John Price was a lot of things. He was a patient man. He could be a brash man. He was a man that commands respect and authority. But in this very moment as you wore his favorite sun dress on you, he knew he could not be all of those things.

He was being punished. It was a certain and each and every single men of his Taskforce knows about it as well. It had honestly and genuinely slipped his mind, with both the past mission and his need to finally be back at home, he never had the time to orient everyone and anyone involved at base about his relationship and marriage to you until now that is.

“Good to see you and the wife too.” You smiled turning your eyes towards your husband pointedly before beginning an animated conversation with Kate and her wife.

John and the rest of the boys were in charge of grilling and giving everyone refreshments. You had decided it was your job to be a good host to everyone as people were slowly but surely filling his home.

“Someone’s sleeping in the couch tonight then?” It was Simon that pointed it out and John could only glare at the man as he continued on with flipping the steaks.

All three of the boys had become aware of the pettiness you could dish out towards their Captain. It wasn’t so often that it happens but the paradigm shift of their Captain not truly being in charge as soon as he was in the confinements of his own home.

“Happy wife, happy life.” John found himself speaking as his attention was still set on the grill.

His own anxiety somehow spiked up the moment an all too familiar Spanish endearment had escapade from the Las Almas-native. Alejandro Vargas was fashionably late as ever.

He had ordered Simon to continue on with cooking as he made his way towards where Alejandro was now in a full discussion with you. It didn’t escape John’s eyes the smoldering look the Colonel was giving his wife. What annoyed him even more was how much you were unbothered—or rather, unaware of it on your own end. Giving the man a smile and those warm gaze that was somewhat always reserved for him and the rest of his men.

“Good to see you, Alejandro.” John had interrupted your little conversation.

“Price. It’s good to see you again, Hermano.” The man chuckled enveloping him into a hug for a moment.

Even with the conversation that now began between him and the Colonel, It didn’t miss his gaze how the both of them would glance right at you as you now stood beside John and joining in on the conversation. It also didn’t escape anyone’s notice how your hand held onto his arm, showcasing the often concealed engagement ring and wedding ring he had gifted you all those years ago when he proposed and made you his wife.

“I see you’ve gotten married while on break, it seems congratulations are in order.” Alejandro finally acknowledge the elephant in the room taking everyone’s notice as well.

“Actually,” You trailed off turning your head towards him, a playful smile on your lips almost waiting for him to make the acknowledgement instead.

“We—we just had a baby.” John finally admits at the same time the sound of the baby monitor going off.

Everyone was silent aside from Soap and Gaz’s cackles. With a relieved smile you excused yourself to get the baby for everyone to meet leaving John on the hotseat, especially at the hands of both Kate and Farah.

“Hold on, since when have you and Rookie been in a relationship?” Kate questioned, a big smile playing on her face. Oh he could already see the array of torment that was to come during missions with this tidbit about his personal life.

“Since I was a Sergeant and she was a newly appointed Lieutenant.” John sighed scratching his beard and knowing full well you were taking your sweet time with your daughter leaving him to the wolves. “Married for fourteen years.” He added, being all too reminded of the fact that as soon as he had finished up with the mission that saved both Farah and her brother all those years ago, he knew it in his heart that there would never be a perfect time for the two of you to marry but in that very moment in your humble apartment in the heart of London all those years ago.

“Fuck, I lost the bet then.” Alex interrupted the moment of shock still resting on everyone as he handed Farah a few quid which she happily took with a smug smile on her face.

“Well I appreciate the bets being thrown around about my personal life.” He muttered.

“I’ve always knew something was going on with the two of you, Old man.” Farah pointed out. “It was just a matter of determining what status the two of you were to each other at this point.”

So much for acting low key about his relationship.

The hot seat was now away from him as you walked back out with the prettiest little baby he had ever seen in his life (he was bias definitely as this was his child after all). Woken up from her nap, John could see his daughter still cranky as you continued to coo her.

“Just woke up from her nap.” You excuse immediately handing the baby to him. A smile resting on his lips now as how easy it was to calm his daughter in his hands. How quick it was for her own similar blue eyes to lock onto him for comfort and safety. It was all he could ever give and more to both of his girls.

“Looks just like you, Cap.” Alex pointed out earning a snort out of you and a proud chuckle out of John.

It was an ongoing banter between the two of you, how you complain about carrying your daughter for nine months only for her to look just like him. But his daughter has your eyes and he was all too certain would be used against him when she learns how to do the puppy dog eyes when she grows up.

“Cries like him too.” Simon quipped earning a pointed look from John and giggle from you and laughter from everyone else.

At the booming laughter of one Soap MacTavish, the first line of tears had burst out of his daughter and you and John had given the man a glare as he began to coo his daughter from her tears.

To say freely acting like a husband and wife in front of most of your coworkers was awkward but a little refreshing to say the least. With your daughter pawned off to her uncles for the next hour or two, it meant you and your husband could freely socialize with the rest of the team in attendance.

“Still can’t believe you two were able to keep it hidden for so long.” It was Kate that finally broke the ice.

“Less hassle for either of us.” John shrugged off, pulling you closer to him.

It was all the more refreshing to see this side of him that no one usually sees. With you sitting on his lap on the love seat as you continued on with your conversation with Kate. How he would do anything and everything in his power to have you close to him, touching any skin he gets his hands on—at this moment it was his hands on your thighs as he held onto them to support you.

“That the reason why you dragged her along with you the TF?” She inquired, playfully.

“One of the reasons, but not the top reason.” John assured.

It was still much of a surrealistic moment when you were called one day by Kate about the Taskforce your husband was forming. You, of all people knew that he wanted to make sure that your lines of work and personal life were separate. But somehow, your capabilities overrode those principles you both have made to each other.

You did your job, quiet well too, so it wasn’t much of a worry that your relationship and association to the man would be also place under scrutiny now when all was said and done. It wasn’t much of an issue when most, if not all of the people in the base had already been calling the both of you as work spouses to each other.

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jellyjuicer · 3 months ago

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Jinx x Ekko (College AU!)

Compromise

(Ch. 1.)

Chapter 1.

In the dimly lit dorm room, Jinx flopped onto her bed, surrounded by piles of dirty laundry and empty energy drink cans. Her grades had just been posted, and she was less than thrilled. A big, fat 'F' stared back at her from the screen of her laptop, mocking her. Except it was not an F, it was a C+; but at this point they’re equals. She let out a loud sigh and tossed her phone onto the bed, where it landed with a soft thud. Ekko, her roommate and fellow student, poked his head into the room. "Hey, Jinx, what's wrong?" he asked, his eyes scanning the messy space.

Jinx groaned and buried her face in her pillow, “I mayyyy or may not have failed my psychology class. Again."

Ekko chuckled and sat down beside her. "Well, you can't exactly blame yourself., You did spend most of the semester pulling pranks on Caitlyn."

Jinx lifted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey, that's not the point, The point is I'm a freaking genius and I shouldn't be failing anything."

Ekko raised an eyebrow. "A genius? I mean, love the confidence but from where I'm standing, it looks like you're more of a..creative problem solver…”

Jinx shot him a sarcastic grin, but Ekko just laughed and ruffled her hair. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get 'em next time. Now, want to come with me to the cafe and grab some dinner?"

“Fine, but you’re paying.”

As they walked to the cafeteria, they ran into Vi, who was sitting at a table, downing a cup of coffee. "Hey, guys! What's up?"

Jinx plopped down beside her, still looking sulky, “I failed my psych class. Ekko's being annoyingly cheerful about it."

“She got a C+, it’s not that serious,” Ekko chimed in. Vi snorted, “Well, someone's got to balance out your negativity, Jinx. Besides, it's not the end of the world. You can always retake the class..or just bribe the professor with one of your infamous pranks."

Jinx perked up at the suggestion, but Ekko shot her down. "No way, Jinx, you're not bribing anyone. You're going to study hard and pass that class the honest way."

Jinx pouted, but eventually, the three of them got into a lively discussion about everything from their favorite video games to their plans for the upcoming summer break, which was another 5 months around the corner, but hey, who’s counting?

As the night wore on, Jinx found herself stealing glances at Ekko, who was laughing and joking with Vi. She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, or the way his hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck. As they left the cafeteria, Ekko turned to Jinx and said, "Hey, I want to show you something that might help you with your schoolwork."

Jinx raised an eyebrow, intrigued

“What is it??”

Ekko grinned. "It's a game, but not just any game. It's an educational game that can actually help you with your psychology class."

Jinx snorted, "A game? You really think a game is going to help me pass my class?"

Ekko chuckled. "Hear me out, hear me out, this game is actually really helpful, and it's fun too. It's all about interactive simulations and puzzles that teach you about different psychological concepts."

Jinx shrugged, but her curiosity was piqued. "Okay, fine. Show me."

*•*•*•*•*•*•*

They walked back to their dorm room, the tension between them still palpable. As they entered the room, Ekko closed the door behind them and booted up his laptop.

"Okay, so this game is called 'Mind Loop'," he explained, opening up the game on his laptop. "It's all about building and navigating different mental landscapes, and it teaches you about different psychological theories and concepts."

Jinx watched, fascinated, as Ekko showed her the game. She was surprised by how engaging and interactive it was, and she found herself actually enjoying it. As they played, Ekko sat next to her on the floor, their shoulders touching. Jinx felt a flutter in her chest, but she tried to ignore it, focusing on the game instead. And as the night wore on, they got more and more into the game, competing with each other to see who could solve the puzzles faster. But as the hours passed, Jinx started to feel her eyelids getting heavy.

Ekko noticed and smiled. "Hey, you're getting tired. Why don't we take a break?"

Jinx nodded, and Ekko closed the laptop. They sat there in silence for a moment, the only sound the hum of the computer.

Then, without thinking, Ekko reached out and wrapped his arms around Jinx, pulling her into a hug. Jinx felt a rush of emotions, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she hugged him back, feeling a sense of comfort and security that she hadn't felt in a long time.

As they hugged, Jinx felt her eyes getting heavier and heavier. She rested her head on Ekko's shoulder, feeling his warmth and his heartbeat. And before she knew it, she was falling asleep, Ekko's arms still wrapped around her. She felt him relax, his body sinking into the floor as he fell asleep too.

#fanfic #jinx x ekko #arcane #ekkojinx #jinxekko #fanfics #fanfiction #timebomb #league of legends #ekko arcane #jinx arcane #jellyjuicer #Spotify

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melluvsuu · 6 months ago

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“ 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 . ”

CHAPTER 01 ──── GOOD ASSISTANT ! ‹3

characters : gojo, makima, megumi, nobara, yuji

context : you start to meet this strange lady, odd enough she takes interest in you, and this random white haired guy too. sooner or later you a 'jujutsu sorcerer' and meet sukunas vessel. twins!!

authors notes : this better blow up or im crying...

warnings : ooc, male!reader, male pronouns, reader referred as 'you', chapter takes place in ep 1 of jjk, plus extra non canon stuff, mistakes probably..

,, 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓. 𝜚

UNKNOWN LOCATION

JANUARY 7 , 2009 04:32:18

You wake up to the cool sensation of grass beneath your fingers, soft and damp from the night air. It’s dark—so dark that you can barely make out your surroundings. A thick, inky blackness stretches out in every direction, swallowing the horizon. The sky above has doors—different shapes, sizes, and colours, each standing upright without walls or frames to support them. Some are tall and imposing, carved from dark wood with intricate patterns.

“[Name]-kun.”

You blinked, trying to process the voice. “Who is this?”

A figure stepped into view, you can’t make out the details. It’s human, or atleast looks human. Feminine body, and glowing spiral yellow eyes, “My name is Makima. I assume you're [Name]? Correct.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Yes… Where are we.?”

“My ‘domain’. Hell. There’s really nothing here but us, don’t worry about that white albino paintbrush listening in. Let’s chat!”

She sits down near your head as your body automatically seem to get closer to her lap. She rests her hands on your hair, gently stroking it.

“Let’s make a contract–binding vow, shall we? We’ll discuss this topic at a different time, but for now we can just get to know one another.”

You considered her words, the weight of the offer sinking in.“Alright.”

TOKYO METROPOLITAN CURSE TECHNICAL COLLEGE

JUNE 14, 2015 , 07:27:02

“Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey~!” The white-haired, blindfolded man exclaimed, turning toward you with a playful grin.

Who is this guy? You thought, feeling the tight ropes binding you and surrounded by a chaotic mix of talismans. As your vision slowly cleared, you studied him closely—he seemed oddly familiar. Why?

“Why am I here?” You managed to ask, still trying to regain your bearings.

The blindfolded man flashed an infuriating smirk, ” Great, just what I needed…” You thought, annoyed.

“For your execution, of course!”

“My execution?”

“Yup, yours! But…”

“But?” you echoed, your confusion deepening.

You watched as he stood up, crossing his arms with a confident air. “You won’t be executed if you agree to be my assistant, [Name]-chan.”

“What—who the hell are you?” You asked, tilting your head slightly to get a better look.

“It’s me, Gojo Satoru. If you accept my offer, you can live. What do you say, hm?”

You sat in silence as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I really need a strong assistant, [Name]-chan.”

“Ugh, fine! Just don’t touch my ear, you weirdo,” you replied, instinctively leaning away from him.

“Fantastic!” he exclaimed, his excitement palpable.

YOKOHAMA , SANKEIEN GARDEN

JUNE 5, 2018 21:48:29

BANG—!

You stepped down hard on the curse’s head, the sickening crunch echoing in the stillness of the night. Disgust twisted your features as you felt the remnants of the creature’s essence ooze beneath their boot.

“Gross.” You spat. You glanced up at the sky, now draped in deep shades of indigo and very few shades of orange.. It was a beautiful scene, the upcoming stars twinkling like distant memories. You could enjoy this scene…

“[Name]-chan, look here!” Gojou shouted.

Nevermind.

“Gojo-sa—”

“Call me Satoru, silly!” he interrupted.

With a resigned sigh, you replied, “Satoru-san, why did you let me exorcize such a weakling?” They removed their black coat, using it to wipe the blood splatter from their face, feeling both exhilarated and slightly exasperated.

“Well, I like seeing you like this!” he said with a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Noticing a streak of the curse’s blood on Gojou’s cheek, You pointed at it, a playful glint in their eye. “Something wrong, [Name]-chan?”

Gojou looked at the finger pointing at his cheek, and it suddenly clicked for him—you wanted a kiss! Of course, who wouldn’t want to kiss the great Satoru Gojo? He leaned down, dramatically pressing his lips against the spot, a teasing grin on his face. “Is that what you wanted?”

Annoyance flashed in your eyes as they rolled them. “No. There was some blood on your cheek.” You wiped the blood away, their voice steady. “And we have another ‘mission’, we found Sukuna's finger.”

“Well then, let’s get going! Ooh! I also want to stop by a famous mochi restaurant on our way!” Gojo exclaimed, grabbing your wrist and leading them away with an eager tug.

As you walked toward the train station, you felt a sudden presence behind you. A familiar weight settled as someone clung their arms around their neck.

“[Name]-kun,” Came the sultry voice, dripping with irritation. You recognized it instantly—Makima, she was not pleased. “Why did that man kiss you?” She rested her head against his shoulder.

“I… didn’t expect him to do it, so shut up...” You mumbled, swatting her away with a half-hearted gesture

JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL

JUNE 5, 2018 22:02:01

“Under Jujusten Regulation, Itadori Yuji, I will exorcise you as a curse!” Megumi declared.

“Hold up, I’m fine!” Yuji replied, raising his hand in a gesture of reassurance. “Besides, both of us are kinda beaten up,” he added, glancing down at his body where the tattoos—symbols of his connection to Sukuna—began to slowly fade away, like shadows dissipating at dawn.

“We should go to the hospital,” Yuji suggested, his tone shifting to one of concern.

Megumi hesitated, his mind racing, ‘I can’t tell if it’s really him or if it’s the special grade object influencing him, he thought anxiously. Damn, what should I do?’

Just then, a white-haired figure appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s the situation?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just materialised from thin air.

“Gojo-sensei? [Name]-sama? What are you both doing here?” Megumi stammered, momentarily caught off guard.

Gojo chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes, although hidden by the blindfold, you could sense it. “Well, I heard from a little birdie that Sukuna’s finger was in the area,” he explained, his tone teasing as he reached for his phone.

He was interrupted as you snatched the device from his hands. “Plus, the higher-ups wouldn’t stop nagging about a missing special-grade object!” Gojo continued, unperturbed. “And I dragged [Name] along while I was out sightseeing. By the way, did you manage to find it?”

“Uh… I ate it,” Yuji confessed sheepishly.

A stunned silence fell over the group. “For real?” You and Gojo echoed simultaneously, eyes wide in disbelief.

“For real,” Yuji and Megumi parroted back.

Gojou strode over to Yuji, bending down to examine him closely. “Hmm, you really did merge with it?” He chuckled as he straightened up, clearly amused by the situation. “Is there anything wrong with your body?”

“Nope,” Yuji replied.

“Can you swap out with Sukuna?” You interjected.

“Sukuna?” Yuji’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, the curse you ingested,” You clarified.

“Oh, right! I think I can do that!” Yuji said, giving a thumbs up.

“Alright, give him about ten seconds, then take control back,” You instructed, offering a half-hearted smile to lighten the mood.

“But—” Yuji started, but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry; I’m the strongest,” Gojou smirked, his trademark bravado eliciting groans from both you and Megumi.

“Megumi, hold this!” Gojou tossed a bag into his hands.

“What’s this?” Megumi asked, perplexed.

“Kokufuku from Kikusuian! It’s Sendai’s specialty, and it’s absolutely delicious! I highly recommend the Zunda and Cream flavour!” Gojo exclaimed, his excitement palpable.

As Gojo continued to yap on about his trip and the delicious treats, [Name] couldn’t resist the urge to snag a piece of his Kokufuku. It was every bit as good as he’d claimed, the flavours dancing on your tongue.

“Hey! [Name]-chan, don’t eat my food! That’s really rude!” Gojo whined, eyes wide in faux betrayal.

“Hey, behind you!” Megumi shouted, you pulled him back by his collar just as a special grade cursed spirit lunged at Gojo. You instinctively tensed, knowing all too well how this would end—Gojo would emerge victorious once again because, as he liked to remind everyone, he was ‘the strongest.’

“Look, that kid is still alive after being thrown into a building,” You said sarcastically, feeling the exhaustion seeping into your bones.

“Yeah, it’s about time,” Gojou replied, as if on cue.

As if in response to Gojo's words, Yuji’s tattoos faded once more, his body slumping as Megumi let out a sigh of relief. “Colour me impressed!” Gojou exclaimed, hovering above Yuji. “You can really control it!”

“Yeah, but he’s kind of annoying,” Yuji muttered, aggressively patting his own head, “I can hear his dumb voice in my head.”

“It’s a miracle that’s all he’s doing,” Gojou remarked casually, poking Yuji’s forehead with two fingers, which caused him to immediately pass out.

“What did you do?” Megumi asked, his tone a mix of exasperation and curiosity.

“He knocked him out, Megumi-kun,” You replied, leaning back against the nearby railing, fatigue washing over you. “Can I go home, please? I’m tired.”

“Not just yet, [Name]-chan. If he isn’t possessed by Sukuna when he wakes up, he might have potential as a vessel,” Gojou said, the seriousness of his tone cutting through the lighthearted banter.

“I have a question for you! What should we do with him?” Gojou turned to Megumi, his expression contemplative.

After a moment of thought, Megumi replied, “If he is a vessel, Jujutsu regulations demand that Itadori be executed. However, I don’t want him to die.”

“Is that a personal opinion?” Gojou raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading slightly.

“Yes. It’s a personal opinion. Please do something about it,” Megumi insisted, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“Well, if it’s a request from a precious student, leave it to me! Now, someone carry Yuji. It seems my beloved future husband has fallen asleep!” Gojou declared with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Megumi turned to you, noticing that you had indeed succumbed to fatigue and drifted off, your head lolling to the side. You must have been really tired—or just really lazy.

“—Wait. Future husband? [Name]-san doesn’t even like you,” he deadpanned, disbelief etched across his face.

“Nuh-uh! He does! He let me kiss him before we came here,” Gojou retorted proudly, a goofy grin plastered across his face. Megumi’s frustration bubbled beneath the surface, and he couldn’t help but feel a strong urge to punch Gojou right then and there.

additional notes : if it has mistakes idc,, uhm yeah woohoo

word count : 1.7k

dont steal or repost my stuff that makes me go crazy!

#❛　　𝒞　　⏖　　melluvs writing.　　𝜚　　𓈒 #jjk x male reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x ftm reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk gojo #jjk yuji #jjk x csm #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu itadori #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu nanami #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x male reader #csm makima

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 year ago

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Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, heavy suggestive themes, lots of kissing, intimate touching, domestic!Simon

Word Count: 8k

A/N: Part Nine of Ink & Needle

Evie fractures. You spend the evening with Simon in his apartment. An unwanted caller makes contact.

Chapter Eight // Chapter Ten

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

The excitement of the day is starting to set in. Everything was a whirlwind this morning, and only now, in the quiet of the kitchen in Evie’s Cambridge home, is it all beginning to catch up with you.

The continuously growing list of things to do is as messy and vast as the scattered assembly of carryout boxes on the kitchen island. Most of it is Chinese takeout boxes—which, to your disappointment—is not like American Chinese takeout at all. Evie thought it hilarious when you began opening boxes only to discover multiple containers of curry sauce and mushy peas. Greasy burgers were ordered and consumed instead. Now, as you begin sifting through the mess, tossing containers into a trash bag, exhaustion is showing its teeth, reminding you just how hectic it’s been.

Outside the patio doors, the sun is low, it’s beams hardly breaking over the natural hedge fence along the property line. The lights above the kitchen island and stove are on, adding to the low, warm glow of the evening sun. Scattered across the countertop behind you are various stacks of paperwork. You and Evie need to go through all of it, but you’re unwilling to burden her with too much.

Evie is still grieving, and she’s eight months pregnant, quickly approaching nine. The only thing Evie needs to worry about is getting plenty of rest and the upcoming labor. She doesn’t need to fret over conversations with the estate agent or Archie’s solicitor. Not to mention the fact that the solicitor brought up potential troubles with Archie’s family, indicating a barrister might be needed if they decide to fight over Archie’s money. That did not reach Evie’s ears. Those people have already done enough, and if you can, you’ll keep their poison away for as long as possible.

No. The main concern is Evie’s pregnancy. With the move to London, all of Evie’s medical history has to be transferred to her new hospital and doctor. It’s incredibly close to the due date for everyone’s liking, but it can’t be helped. Evie won’t be giving birth in Cambridge.

Sighing, you toss yet another empty container into the bag, purposefully keeping your back to the stack of papers. You offered up the idea to the estate agent of selling the place fully furnished to which you were quickly dismissed. Frustrating, because it means your job becomes much more difficult, but understandable. People want to make new memories. They don’t want to cling to someone else’s old ones.

Over dinner, you and Evie discussed how she wanted to clear out the house of her belongings. Sell it? Donate it? Put it in storage? Take it with her? There wasn’t a true decision but there was an agreement on beginning the process.

It’s a start. It’s something.

Tomorrow, Friday afternoon to be exact, you and Evie are heading back to London. It’s a quick turnaround, but you’re eager to return and see your wraith. Just thinking of him, speaking his name in your mind, is enough to swirl the quietly simmering heat in your belly to a healthy boil. The warmth that arrives with Simon’s name spreads to your toes and throughout your limbs.

Smiling, nearly giggling, cheeks fevering with the memory of his kisses from Monday, you lightly press the tips of your fingers to your lips, floating in the memory of how they tasted his skin.

Then, you remember where you are. And what you’re supposed to be doing.

“Get a fucking grip,” you mutter under your breath, stuffing the last of the takeout boxes into the trash bag.

When you return from tossing the bag into the outside bin, you wash your hands before reaching for your phone. In the group chat with Jade and Sam, you give them a quick update, silencing your phone afterward, plugging it in to charge for the night.

Evie is upstairs somewhere, likely rummaging around in things she shouldn’t be. She has a knack for that, doing things without asking for help, believing that doing so is a sign of weakness. It’s that American Midwest can-do attitude. Independent and self-sufficient. A good ole’ Missouri girl. That’s Evelyn Green.

Rubbing at your right temple, you head upstairs, aiming for the master bedroom. The door stands open, and as you approach, you stop short the frame when you hear a choked, strangled sob.

“Evie?” you call out.

You listen intently, not sure if you’ve misheard. But you hear it again, a pained sound that sounds more injured animal than human.

Cold fear twists your stomach, drags it down to the floor, stomps all over it and grins.

“Evie!”

Shoving through the door, you don’t find her anywhere. Scanning the master bedroom, you notice the scattered clothes across the bed and the rumpled sheets. But the room is dark. The only light comes from the walk-in closet. Its angles are sharp like a blade and you fear the worst. What if she’s fallen? Surely, you would have heard the crash, or a solid thump?

Heading toward it, the rising fear intensifies until it lodges in your throat, waiting to emerge like a striking snake.

You step into the beam of light.

Sitting in the middle of a large pile of clothes is Evie.

She’s bent over, at least, as bent as her belly will allow her to be. Her pale cheeks are slashed with red and tear-stained. Her shoulders shake with every sob, each one appearing painful. And, in her hands, she cradles a little beige box.

The lid is off. The white ribbon on the top is yellowed and brittle. It rests to the left of Evie’s right foot on one of Archie’s button ups. Within that little beige box is a boutonnière. It’s Archie’s boutonnière. The one he wore on their wedding. It’s dried out now, more potpourri than flower, a silent witness to Evie’s suffering.

“Oh. Evie,” you sigh, going down on your knees in front of her, your hands outstretched but not touching, unsure of how she’s needing comfort.

She glances up. Chokes. Hiccups. “He’s gone,” she whimpers, and all you want to do is absorb her pain.

“I know,” you murmur. “I know, Evie. I’m so sorry.”

“He—he’s gone.” Fresh tears form in the corners of her eyes. They quickly compound on each other, rapidly filling the bottom of her eyelids. “He’s gone and I—”

A gut-wrenching sob rips from her. Like someone is reaching down her throat to tear out her vocal cords.

With extreme gentleness, you place one hand on her shoulder. The other cradles her hand holding the small beige box. “Evie—”

“He’s gone!” she wails. “And this is all I have left!” Evie gestures around at the clothes.

“You have so much more than that,” you soothe, lightly rubbing her shoulder in slow circles.

But Evie is shaking her head, sniffling hard, sucking up all the phlegm that threatens to slip from her nostrils. She’s a mess. A cacophony of a storm.

She glances up. Stares at the ceiling of the closet. “What happens when I start to forget his face?” Evie turns her gaze to you, the defeat and sorrow there sharp enough to shred the soul. “What happens then?”

“You won’t,” you insist, grasping the sides of her face. Strands of her dark hair stick to her tear-stained skin. Your brush them out of the way. “You love him, and the memory of that love is enough.”

Evie keeps shaking her head. “I can’t do this,” she murmurs, cradling her belly with one hand. “How do I do this without him?”

“You can, Evelyn Green. And you’re not alone. You have me. And Amelia. Jade. Sam.” With the pad of your thumb, you remove a few falling tears from her cheek. “This baby will be surrounded by love. She’ll never be without. She will always be safe. And when you tell her stories of her father, all she’ll know is how much you love him, and how much he wanted to meet her.”

Tears spillover to paint Evie’s cheeks as she leans into you. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close, offering your shoulder to rest her head on. Neither of you talks, and this isn’t your place to say anything at all. This is for Evie, and whatever she needs.

Keeping one hand clutching the beige box, Evie reaches up with the other, fingers wrapping around your forearm. Digging, digging in where they land and are sure to leave little half-moons behind. Fuck it. You hardly care. You’re too focused on keeping her aloft, on being Evie’s anchor where she has none.

You won’t allow your friend to sink.

You stay like this until your knees hurt and your lower back aches. You stay like this until Evie signals she’s ready to let go with a gentle squeeze of your arm. As she pulls away, Evie wipes at her eyes. She still clings to that little box, but she needs rest, and you know she’ll never forgive herself if she takes it to bed with her and crushes it.

Placing both hands around the box, you silently implore her to let go. Evie does, hesitantly, and you lay the precious cargo on the ground. Presenting your hands, you put Evie to bed, keeping watch until you’re certain she’s truly asleep and not faking it for your benefit.

Only then do you return to the closet. Only then do you lift the little box from off the floor to carry it downstairs and set it next to your charging phone. Going to the mantel over the fireplace, you select your favorite photo from Archie and Evie’s wedding day. It’s a simple one, but the love oozes from it, sticks in between your teeth to blissfully rot away the enamel.

In the photo, Archie and Evie look at each other and not into the camera. It’s not staged. Just a moment caught when they thought no one was looking. A moment special only to them. Taking it to the kitchen, you rest it next to the box holding Archie’s boutonnière.

By the time you crawl into bed in the guestroom, it’s close to morning.

The few hours you manage to snag are not nearly enough. And when you awaken, you realize quickly that there is no amount of coffee in the world that can save you. Dragging yourself from bed, you clean up the clothes Evie left on the floor of the closet without disturbing her. Down in the kitchen, you make breakfast and place several phone calls. Nearly all of them are to Archie’s solicitor and the estate agent.

You’re exhausted. Fucking gone, but you have to do this for her.

Evie doesn’t drag herself out of bed until almost noon. By that time, the two of you need to start heading back to London. You take the driver seat, and Evie sits passenger with the little box holding Archie’s boutonnière and the framed photo resting in her lap.

“Simon came to see you,” are the first words out of Amelia’s mouth when she greets you.

“He did?” you squeak, nearly dropping the bag you just removed from the trunk of the car. Excitement and giddiness blooms in your chest.

Simon came to see you. He came…to see you.

But why would he not? He chased you down. Pursued you. Looked for you relentlessly. Of course he’d come by. You know this.

After visiting him at 141 Ink on Monday morning, you stopped to grab some groceries before heading home. Amelia and Evie nearly tackled you when you came through the door, both of them eager, pecking like annoying hens, seeking information. Too embarrassed to admit that you’d straddled him in front of the big window and sucked on his neck, you glossed over the more intimate moments much to their frustration.

Amelia had popped open a bottle of wine afterward and asked you if you knew anything about his history in the military. In all honesty, you know very little, just what he mentioned that morning. Thinking about it now, you truly don’t know anything concrete about your wraith. Physical chemistry is a good thing to possess, but that won’t last if there is nothing else to connect to.

Amelia already appeared to know this, and mentioned that you might want to take a delicate step with him in that area. “A bad injury” is what she said, but Amelia didn’t know any of the details. Then again, Amelia might know, and was only considering Simon’s privacy.

“Oh, yes. He was here. Burst through the backdoor and yelled at me for forgetting to lock the front one.”

Evie’s head pops up above the top of the car. “He yelled at you?”

You glance at Amelia, unbelieving that someone like Simon would raise his voice at her.

“Oh, posh,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “Perhaps yell is a strong word. Growled. Said with irritation. Better?” Amelia shrugs one of the bags over her shoulder.

You and Evie exchange a knowing glance.

Could you go see him tonight? You consider the options. You could stay here and have dinner with Amelia and Evie. Or, you could go see Simon. Enter his shop while he’s working, observe him in his elements. And afterward—

“Are you all right? You look like you’re about ready to faint.” Amelia’s voice snaps you back to reality.

Shit.

Evie stands slightly left and back to Amelia. She’s grinning, knowing exactly where your mind drifted off to.

You smile awkwardly. “I’m fine. Just surprised.”

Amelia makes a face like she doesn’t believe that for a second. But she shrugs, not commenting about it. “You should visit him. It’s Friday. Make a night of it.”

“Are you sure?” you ask hurriedly, not wanting to sound too eager.

Amelia scoffs. “Evie and I will be perfectly fine.” She turns to Evie pointedly. “Won’t we?”

“Perfectly peachy,” winks Evie, shimmying her shoulders suggestively at you before following a cackling Amelia inside.

Your grab several more bags as if one less trip will truly cut into seeing Simon time. Then it’s done, and you’re nearly sprinting up the stairs for a shower and a change of clothes.

“How do I look?” you ask around your toothbrush, turning slightly so Evie can see every angle.

Evie glances up from her phone and grins. “If Simon isn’t all over you the moment you walk through the door, he’s a fucking idiot.” She points at you with her phone. “And you can tell him I said that.”

You snort, and then cover your mouth quickly. Evie laughs too but it’s more of a wheeze and that only makes the strangled, airless sounds you both make that much worse.

“Oh shit,” hisses Evie. “I peed. Thanks, bitch.” She half-rolls, half-flops out of the bed and starts waddling toward the bathroom.

“You’re welcome,” you call out to her retreating back.

Evie holds out her middle finger before shutting the bathroom door. Pulling on your coat and grabbing your purse off the top of the dresser, you head downstairs to slip on your boots.

Every step you take toward 141 Ink is light. Unhurried. It’s easy. Yes, you’re anxious, but that’s only because you’re eager to see Simon, to feel his hands on you, and forget yourself for a bit in his embrace.

As you near, that nervousness starts to slither up, blooming like a poisonous flower. Beautiful, but deadly, waiting for you to consume it. The black and eggplant-purple exterior come into view and that only amplifies what is already screeching under your skin.

“You’ve got this,” you tell yourself. “It’s fine. Calm. Down.”

Your heart and brain and limbs won’t listen. It amplifies further as you reach for the door.

Pushing it open, you’re met with warm air and the scent of pine underlined with the faintest hint of sterile cleaning solution. There is no soft chime when the door opens, but it might have been swallowed up by the music. Heavy metal rushes out from the speakers. It’s not overly loud, nothing that would damage the ears, but it’s certainly loud enough to muffle a conversation. You’re curious if this is Simon’s choice, or if it’s the customer currently in the tattoo chair.

Your glimpse of Simon and his client is brief. Immediately upon entrance, an all-black German Shepard leaps off the couch and greets you, tail wagging so fast it stirs up the air creating a breeze.

“Hello, Bravo,” you croon, scratching under his chin and then between his ears. Bravo leans into it, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in perfect contentment. “Good boy.”

When you straighten your back and glance up, you notice Simon in the back of the room next to the tattoo chair. He sits on a small stool with a black cushion on wheels. The person receiving their tattoo is on their stomach, back presented to Simon as he works. He hasn’t noticed you yet. He’s completely lost in his craft.

You take this time to observe him, standing there in the entrance of his parlor while Bravo aggressively licks the inside of your hand. Simon isn’t wearing a jacket, only a black t-shirt with short sleeves. It fits him snuggly, clearly hugging every muscle. Both tattoo sleeves are on full display. One is solid black. The other consist of various images and symbols that all interweave around each other. Other than the black t-shirt, Simon wears black joggers and sneakers.

Simon sits up a bit, rolls both shoulders. The muscles in his arms flex with the movement. Your wraith is all power. There is so much strength there, and your brain conjures up the memory of Riot Room when Simon lifted you effortlessly, held you aloft as he brought your bodies together over and over again.

He dips the tip of the needle into the ink, bends forward, returning it to the skin. Returning to his work. You desire closeness, to admire the art as he’s creating it on the man’s back, but also don’t wish to disturb his concentration. Watching him in his natural elements is peaceful. All that earlier anxiety is suddenly gone.

When Simon reaches for the ink again, Simon finally glances up. The moment your gazes lock, he freezes, hovering in a moment of stasis. It breaks, and Simon starts to stand, his arm extending outward to turn off the tattoo gun.

Nope. No. This is not what you want. You’ve disturbed him, throttled his concentration.

You shake your head vehemently, holding up both hands, pointing at the couch in the waiting area. Bravo lightly headbutts your thigh, clearly upset that you’ve taken away your hand for him to lick.

Simon holds his position. Knees slightly bent, legs just starting to extend like he’s ready to leap up at your request. Moving quickly, you settle yourself on the couch, Bravo jumping up next to you, snuggling down onto his belly, his large head plopping into your lap.

Only then does Simon sink back onto his stool.

The distance between the two of you is too much for your liking, but you know the feeling is mutual. Simon’s gaze is heated, and his body, which at first faced the client in the chair, is turned in your direction. Those dark, gorgeous eyes of his linger. They drag up your body, and back down again. Simon is taking his time, and under that wanton stare, you feel bare. Exposed. Chest cavity broken up and strewn out. Vulnerable.

It's unnerving. And yet thrilling. It’s how you felt when you first accepted his offer at Riot Room, when you off-handedly brought up the proposition and Simon made sure to end it.

His gaze remains a few seconds longer before Simon finally returns to the man lying face down on the chair. With one hand on top of Bravo’s head, you press the other hand to your cheek. It’s hot. Feverish. And you suddenly notice the growing slickness between your thighs.

Attempting to shift focus, you give most of your attention to Bravo, talking softly to the dog about your day, lulling the massive hound to sleep.

Even like this, you can’t help but notice all the times that Simon consistently glances up from his work, gaze focused in on you like you’ll somehow disappear. Sometimes it’s a quick one-two and he’s right back in it, set in on his work. Other times, he draws it out, as if silently telling you that he sees you. Those glances seize your heart, wrenching it right down into your stomach.

Once Bravo falls into a gentle snooze, and you have nothing else to direct your attention toward—except Simon’s lingering stares—you opt for productivity. With no idea how much longer Simon has with his client, you slip your phone out of your coat pocket and start catching up on work emails. Several deadlines are approaching quickly, and you’re terribly behind. You need an afternoon to yourself to simple work without interruptions. But that’s been difficult, especially when most of your time has been devoted to Evie.

“Done.”

Your head snaps up at the sound of Simon’s deep timbre. The client stretches, half-rolling half-stumbling to his feet.

Simon gestures for them to turn around. “Back to the mirror,” he instructs.

From off a rolling cart, Simon snags a hand mirror, presenting it to the client. It allows the man to admire Simon’s work. You have a clear view of the mirror. It’s just an outline, but it’s massive, covering the man’s entire back.

“Color and shading will take a couple sessions,” says Simon. “What do you think?”

You don’t catch what the man says, but you do hear Simon’s amused chuckle. He takes the hand mirror and places it on the tattoo chair. The two of them talk for a bit as money is exchanged and Simon hands him a care packet. The client shrugs on his shirt and coat, heading for the door.

As he approaches, he slows, noticing you on the couch. The corner of his mouth turns upward. He pointedly takes his time opening the door, a flirty smile on his face aimed at you as he steps out onto the street.

When the door clicks shut, you glance at Simon. His fists are clenched, hanging at his sides. Those dark eyes of his are bullets, ready to kill, completely fixated on the shut door.

“Simon,” you call out softly, a little of your worry slipping in. His gaze immediately adjusts, moving to you, softening entirely when he takes you in.

He tears off his black latex gloves and tosses them into the trash, already striding toward you as he does so. Bravo grumbles a protest as you bolt upward and off the sofa. You don’t even make it halfway to Simon before he’s on you, grabbing at the back of your neck and your waist, pulling you in for a kiss.

There isn’t a chance for you to push up the balaclava. And Simon doesn’t appear to care. He kisses you through the rough material, and you giggle against his cloth-covered lips.

“Simon,” you laugh, pushing lightly on his chest with your palms, voice slightly muffled from the balaclava.

He pulls back just enough to give you the faintest bit of breathing room. Then, he’s shoving his balaclava up to his nose, revealing those gorgeous lips of his. They are there and gone quickly, Simon already reclaiming what is so rightfully his.

You open and Simon slips his tongue inside, fingers digging roughly into the back of your neck, drawing you closer. This kiss is desperate. Needy. And so full of emotion that when he draws back, you’re momentarily breathless.

Simon’s smile is soft and you easily match it with one of you own. “Amelia told me you stopped by,” you murmur.

“You went to Cambridge,” he states. It’s not a question, and that gives you pause.

You nod. “I did.” You do not elaborate or give him an explanation. The situation with Evie is…complicated. While you wish to tell Simon everything, you also don’t want to unload, to dump all your worries onto him without warning.

“Do I have you for the evening?” he asks, hopefulness laced within the words.

A creeping sadness wiggles in. Simon cannot have you for the whole evening even though you’d love nothing more than to stay the entire night. But you won’t allow the disappointment to make a home. You are still here, with him, and that is enough.

“You have me for a few hours,” you answer, waiting for the discontent on his end.

It does not come.

Simon’s thumb traces the length of your throat. His smile is still there. Unchanged. “Do you want to join me upstairs?”

“Upstairs?”

“To my flat. For a drink.”

“Oh.”

“If not it’s fine,” says Simon quickly. “I understand. Quieter than one of the pubs.”

You nod eagerly, popping up on your toes. “Yes,” you breathe. “I’d like that.”

Going upstairs to his flat means that you and Simon will truly be alone. And that singular thought, one that speaks to uninterrupted pleasure, starts a thrumming in the lower recessives of your belly that only moves farther south with each passing second.

“Good,” he sighs with relief.

Did he think you’d say no? Is Simon just as nervous, just as eager to want to be with you?

Have you not thought about me? Not once? Because I’ve thought of you. Every day.

And what if I wanted it to be more? What if I still want it to be more?

Of course he does. Of course.

“Just need to,” he gestures to the room. “Close up.”

“How can I help?” you ask.

Simon thinks for a moment. “Floors?”

“Done.”

The two of you work in tandem, moving through the motions in a natural, domestic dance that seems so normal and so routine that it doesn’t feel odd. It’s comfortable. Cozy. Like you could live this life easily and not regret a single moment.

When the floors are cleaned, and surfaces are sanitized, Simon shuts off the main lights, locks the front door, and arms the alarm system.

Simon doesn’t say anything. Just overs his hand to you, palm upward.

There is no hesitation on your end.

Gently, you take his offered palm, admiring the little tattoos on his fingers as they fold over your hand. Simon guides you to a door you’ve never noticed before. It’s blocked off by a curtain, and when Simon opens it, the two of you step into a narrow hall. To your right is a door that leads out to the sidewalk. To your left is a staircase heading up to a landing.

Simon’s grip on your hand tightens as if you’ll make a run for the street. He does this sometimes. You’ve noticed these tiny gestures where he seems to cling a little too tight, and you question whether it’s a need to feel close to you, or anxiety.

Remembering what Amelia told you the other day, that you may need to be gentle with him, that Simon had a bad injury, you consider how that might influence someone. How it might change their perspective on things.

You return his tightened grip with a gentle squeeze of reassurance, silently prompting him to take the lead. Simon does, bringing you to the top of the landing. The front door doesn’t have a traditional lock but a passcode. Strange. Completely odd. But, then again, Simon is ex-military. Old habits?

Simon punches a series of buttons and the little red light on the top righthand side turns green. The audible sound of gears turning and locks—definitely plural—unlatching reaches your ears. Simon pushes down on the handle, and then you’re inside, Bravo right on your heels.

You’ve never thought about what Simon’s space might look like. Perhaps you figured it would be like any other bachelor pad. But Simon’s home is warm, and has a similar feel to the tattoo shop downstairs.

The interior is industrial with brick walls and exposed grey-black pipes running along the ceiling. The floor is hardwood, a deep, rich brown. To your left is a kitchen and dining area. All the cabinetry is black, the countertops butcher block, and the appliances stainless steel. To your right is the living room. The television is massive, and the sofa is large. You easily picture yourself and Simon snuggled on it, watching a movie.

Directly ahead of you is a short hallway. It branches left, disappearing to a place you cannot see. But you do notice an open bedroom doorway to the right of the end of the short hall.

“I have whiskey.”

You glance away from the doorway and find Simon. He nods toward a small bar next to the dining table. He’s right. There is only whiskey there. “Then whiskey it is.”

Simon laughs softly and grabs two rocks glasses. His gaze scans over the various bottles. Finally selecting one, Simon lifts it from its perch. Removing the cork, Simon pours a double on both. He brings your glass to you, and you take it with both hands, glancing down at the amber liquid.

This will hit you hard. You haven’t eaten since lunch.

“Are you hungry?” asks Simon, as if reading your mind.

“What?” you blink, looking up.

“I can order us something. Or I could cook.”

“You cook?”

“I’ve perfected a few meals.” Simon shrugs. “And instant ramen.”

“Instant ramen?” you ask, deadpan.

Simon crosses his arms over his chest, the whiskey in his glass sloshing slightly as he does. “And other things.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he says automatically.

He wants to do this. He wants to do this.

“Okay. Yeah.” You nod. “You pick. Cook’s choice.”

Simons starts to turn away, but promptly returns, holding up his hand like he’s about to say something. He pauses, and sets his whiskey down. “Hold on.”

“Holding,” you say to his retreating back.

Simon disappears for a minute and reappears clutching a stack of papers. At first, you’re confused, but as he draws closer, you recognize them for what they are.

They’re pages out of a sketchbook, and there isn’t just a handful. Simon has to be holding as least a few dozen individual pieces of paper. And that’s not even the most startling thing. It’s the way he’s holding them, almost nervously, his thumbs rubbing the pages in an anxious tick.

Simon presents the stack to you. “Couldn’t decide on what I liked best.”

Your whiskey glass is on the dining table in an instant. Fingers itching, you gently take the papers from him. Already, from the very top sketch, you’re awed by the artistry. You don’t even look as you sink down into a chair. Placing them on the table, you begin to fan them out in a wide arc.

“These are lovely, Simon,” you murmur, captivated by how creative his mind is.

“You don’t need to select one today. Take a look and pick what you’re leaning toward.”

Quickly, you sift through them, spreading them out across the table, dividing them up to make the process easier. It’s almost overwhelming. Some of the pieces are similar, but most of them are entirely different. Completely unique.

As you start through your first organized stack, Simon is already in the kitchen, a large pot of water on the range. Before him on the countertop is a small pile of flour. He makes a well, cracks three eggs into the center, and the smallest splash of water. Taking a fork, he starts to whisk.

Is he—no.

You hold a paper in each hand but you’re not even looking at the artwork. You’re watching Simon make pasta. Fucking pasta. From scratch. And he’s not breaking a sweat. He looks so goddamn casual it’s almost maddening.

Bravo sits at your side, but all of his attention is on Simon. He licks his chops periodically but is otherwise statuesque. Your wraith wraps up the dough and sets it aside, quickly cleaning up his mess before retrieving a large frying pan, cutting board, and sauce pot.

Glancing between the artwork you pick up and Simon’s movement in the kitchen, you start to see a different side of him. Garlic, onion, fresh basil, and grape tomatoes are tossed into the sauce pot. Oil is drizzled into the large pan. Chicken breasts are pounded out, made thin, and then coated in breadcrumbs.

You at the table. Him in the kitchen, cooking you dinner. Nothing planned. Just present and existing, content with each other’s company.

By the time you’ve sorted through all the sketches and selected ten you’re leaning toward, Simon is rolling out the dough, cutting it into long strands, depositing the homemade spaghetti into the salted boiling water. The chicken cutlets are finishing under the broiler, topped with chunky tomato sauce and cheese.

Bravo’s no longer sitting but laying down. He’s still alert to everything happening in the kitchen, but Simon is meticulous, dropping nothing for Bravo to vacuum up.

“Simon?”

“Hm?” He briefly glances at you over his shoulder before returning his attention to the pot of cooking pasta.

You lick your lips, pausing before asking the question. “How did you get the tattoo shop?”

The tongs Simon holds hesitate before dipping into the water. “Part of my retirement,” he answers. Cooked pasta and leftover sauce are tossed together.

“Military retirement?” He nods but says nothing. You’re not sure if this will be too sensitive to ask, but you’re curious, and Amelia’s words from earlier in the week keep grating on your mind. “What did you do to earn you an entire tattoo shop at retirement?”

Simon divides the pasta up between two plates. “Early retirement from an injury. Got me this flat, too.”

Early retirement? An injury? What the fuck happened to him that the government would give him enough money to afford all this? That is unheard of, at least by American standards. You couldn’t say for certain what it’s like here, but it couldn’t be much different.

You sip on your whiskey, the amber liquid burning smoothly on the way down. “So you didn’t plan on becoming a tattoo artist originally?”

Simon shuts off the broiler and removes the breaded chicken cutlets. Placing them on a fresh cutting board, Simon slices them quickly, transferring one cutlet to each plate. “I was military.”

“I know,” you say quickly. “But—did you ever think about after?”

Opening a nearby drawer, Simon grabs two knives and two forks. “Sometimes.”

Why is he being so evasive? Was the injury that bad? Thinking on it, you do recall several scars. There is the one running along the edge of his jaw. That one is clear to the eye. The other scars you noticed were hidden under the ink.

Simon picks up the plates and you hastily clear away the sketches, piling up the ones you didn’t select.

“Find anything?”

“These.” You gently push a small stack toward him.

Simon doesn’t even look at them until your plate is in front of you and you’re holding the silverware. Social norms and general social expectations might say to be dainty when with a new romantic partner, but the food in front of you is begging to be devoured. Simon made this for you to enjoy, and you’re going to do just that.

And Simon doesn’t appear to give a shit anyway. With one hand, he’s cutting through his chicken. The other is spreading out the sketches you selected, his gaze entirely fixed on the paper. He takes a bite of his food. Chews. Lifts a sketch up to study it.

You tuck in, eating but silent, observing every twitch and change in Simon’s expression. There are few of note. You have no idea what he’s thinking. Is he conjuring up new sketches already? Is he itching to pick up his pencil or charcoal or whatever he enjoys working with and starting immediately? Is Simon surprised by your choices?

The strongest reaction you pick up on is the arch of a singular eyebrow.

Eventually, he nods, seeming satisfied. With one hand, Simon neatly situates your selections into a stack, setting it aside. Your plate is nearly empty at this point, inhaling the meal like an addict.

Simon settles into his chair, his gaze fixating on you. “Why’d you go to Cambridge?”

Does Simon mean to make it feel like an accusation?

“I went for Evie,” you answer.

“Your friend.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why you’re here?”

“In London? Yes. I am.”

You don’t know how far you can take this conversation before crossing into territory you don’t want to discuss. It’s not that you don’t want to discuss it with him, you simply fear the idea that you might unload on him. You are fully aware how stressing the entire situation with Evie is, but Simon doesn’t need to hear all of it at once. There are some things that are private. There are some things that if spoken to another, might break Evie’s trust in you.

Simon twirls his fork in his hand. “She’s pregnant.”

“Very pregnant,” you add.

“Married?”

How the fuck do you answer that?

“Widow,” you decide, because it’s the truth, and there isn’t any reason to hide it.

“How recent?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“She buried him a week ago.”

Simon stops twirling his fork. “A week?” You hear the surprise in his tone.

“Dead two. Buried one.” Saying it like that makes it sound so final. Archie is gone, and Evie is alone in that regard. She’s lost a piece of herself. A pillar of support.

This whole time, Simon’s gaze has been locked on you. But it drops down toward the floor for a brief few seconds before returning. Sometimes you really wish he’d take that balaclava off so you can get a full picture of what might be happening behind it.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Simon doesn’t press for more, and you nearly sigh with relief.

“I’m helping her for a bit. Easy for me since I work remote.”

“What do you do?”

Oh shit. Simon doesn’t know. All this time, and it’s never come up in conversation.

“Freelance mostly. Technical writing and editing.”

Simon swallows and takes a sip of his whiskey. “And what is that?”

“User manuals, medical documents, press releases.” You list a few more things and as you do, Simon’s lips stretch into a smile. “What?” you ask.

“That sounds incredibly boring.”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth as you try not to choke. “Pays the bills. Wouldn’t call it exciting.”

This is easier conversation. This is what a normal back-and-forth is supposed to be between two people. Isn’t it?

But what is normal about this dynamic? The two of you met and hooked up in the basement of a club. You ran and he chased, kept chasing for three years, and when you finally appeared before him, you ran again and he followed after you without hesitating.

“Can you stay?” asks Simon, and you hear the silent plea in his voice. It draws up every needy thought simmering beneath your skin.

“For a bit,” you reply, purposefully being non-specific.

He inclines his head toward your plate. “Finished?”

“Yes.” You start to pick it up, standing with the intention to take it to the sink. Simon is having none of it. He whisks it out of your hands before your legs have a chance to fully extend. You plop your ass back in the chair.

Simon rinses out pans and cleans knives. Sitting in a chair and doing nothing is not something you’re accustomed to.

“Would you like me to help?”

“I’d like you to relax.”

“Yes, sir,” you murmur, finishing off the last of your whiskey.

He washes his hands and dries them on a towel. As he strides toward the dining table, he snaps at Bravo. “Kennel.”

Bravo’s ears droop, but he complies to Simon’s command.

Simon watches the German Shepard disappear down the hallway. He turns toward you, offering his hand. When you place your hand in his, Simon’s fingers take hold, drawing you out of your chair, pulling you against his body. His other hand cradles the side of your neck and lower half of your jaw. His thumb traces over your bottom lip.

“Can I take you to bed?” he asks, voice slightly husky with need. His thumb returns to your bottom lip, lightly pressing on it. “I want to kiss you. To touch you.” Simon is still holding on to your hand.

Not sex then? Just kisses. Touches. Even the thought of that is sending you into overdrive, every nerve in your body firing at once until your heart thuds loudly in your ears.

“Take me to bed,” you whisper, hardly believing you managed to get the words out.

Slowly, Simon’s hand falls away from your face. It is a gentle release, one that speaks of desire but doesn’t feel so primal and raw as when the two of you first came together. Walking backwards, Simon leads, entering into the dark of his apartment, heading down the hall, and entering the bedroom you noticed earlier.

You don’t even glance at your surroundings. You’re too focused on Simon, and the way he guides you around, easing you onto your back upon the bed. He drapes himself over you like a protective cocoon. One knee slides between your legs, forcing them to apart. The other digs into the bed just shy of your thigh.

Simon rests his forearm just above and to the side of your head. His other hand immediately goes to your waist. You are pinned in. You are under him, and it’s deliciously perfect. Better than what you’ve conjured up in your head. Beneath him, you feel protected. Safe.

Your fingers are already on the balaclava, pushing it up further, seeking him. You know not to go past the eyes, and while it pains you to not see Simon fully, you respect the boundary. That will fall away eventually. As will your uneasiness about being completely open and honest with him about Evie’s situation.

These things will happen. They have to. You want them to.

The moment you have full access to his lips, Simon is on you. Your hands fist the front of his shirt, dragging him closer. Simon lowers himself, his pelvis slotting perfectly with yours. Each kiss is slow. Measured. Every stroke of his hand along your waist, hips, and thighs sends a wave of rippling heat straight to your core.

It grows and grows, melting your resolve into mush. Your legs fall open wider, and Simon instinctually moves in. You clearly sense his needs. It’s fucking poking you. And fuck—what’s a few more hours? You can stay. You can.

Your hand slides between your bodies, slipping beneath the waistband of his joggers, your fingers finding him, wrapping around his hardness.

Simon swallows down a groan as his hips reflexively press against your palm. He breaks the kiss, breathing heavy, his teeth finding your throat.

Simon gently bites your neck, his large hand squeezing your thigh in warning. “Keep touching me like that and you won’t leave this bed until morning.”

The intensity of his delivery zaps you right out of your haze. “Sorry,” you gasp, withdrawing your hand quickly.

Simon’s answering growl pins you to the spot. He snatches your retreating arm, encircling the wrist, only to draw your hand back to him.

“Never apologize for touching me. Never.” His lips and teeth trace over your skin. When he finds your lips again, there is nothing chaste about the way he tastes you.

“Simon—”

“Not tonight. I—Not like this.”

Your hand that still rests on his chest slides upward. One finger delicately traces that scar you know so well.

“Will you walk me home?”

“You never have to ask.”

Simon guides your hand away from his groin. In the next moment, he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting up and off the bed, and onto your feet.

He’s smiling down at you, and it’s full of joy. You don’t know how to receive it. It’s almost too much, and you slightly feel undeserving of it.

“I’ll grab my coat.” You start to move but Simon’s arms around your waist tighten.

“Wait.” You glance up, find an intensity in his stare. “Can I take you out?”

“On a date?” you blurt.

“Movies. Dinner.” He shrugs. “Normal things.”

Your lips part slightly in confusion. There is nothing normal about Simon. “You don’t want to take me out for normal dates,” you say slowly.

Simon’s jaw clenches. “No.”

You grin, knowing you’ve trapped him. “What kind of date would you actually like to take me on?” Leaning forward, you rest your chin on his chest.

“Take you for a ride for starters.”

“On a bicycle?” you ask with mock innocence.

Simon sharply lands a slap to your ass. “I’ll put you back on that bed.”

“Promise?”

His answer is a growl, and a firm squeeze. “I’d take you to the coast. Or the country. Maybe up to Manchester. Show you where I grew up. All my favorite spots.”

“Go on,” you entreat.

“I’d show you the Highlands. Stay in a little cottage on a friend’s family farm.”

“What else?”

Simon’s brow softens, and then he’s bending down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. “I’d make new memories with you,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Promise?”

“That’s a fucking guarantee, love.”

For several minutes, the two of you embrace just inside his bedroom door. For several minutes, the two of you almost return to the bed, to fall right back into each other’s arms. But Simon has far more control than you.

Coats are collected. Bravo’s leash is found and attached to the dog’s collar.

The two of you don’t hold hands on your walk to Amelia’s. Instead, the two of you loosely intertwine a few fingers. There is no rush. No need to arrive quickly. And while there is silence, it’s a contented, peaceful thing.

Reviving. You are reawakening with Simon.

At Amelia’s front door, your parting kiss is not a kiss at all. With both hands, Simon cradles your face, closes his eyes, and rests his forehead against yours. You match him, closing your own eyes, placing your hands over his, simply breathing in his presence.

You’re practically skipping up the stairs to your shared bedroom with Evie. You expect to find her asleep. But when you open the door, you don’t find her tucked under the covers. She’s sitting up, resting against the headboard, wide awake, and crying quietly.

“What is it?” you ask, panicked, dropping your purse and coat onto the floor, crawling onto the bed to reach for her.

Evie wipes at her eyes, smirking through her tears. “Shouldn’t you be in your man’s bed right now?”

“Oh hush,” you mutter, waving her comment off. “What is it?”

Her smile falters. “Archie’s older brother called.”

The panic disappears. The contentment and peace that clings to you from your time with Simon evaporates instantly. All of it is gone. Poof. Like a popped balloon.

In its place is a seething anger.

“What the fuck does he want?”

“He wants to meet.”

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aldryrththerainbowheart · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 1 - Security breach

Note: My very own addition to Arkhamverse fics. The chapters would only loosely follow each other, so consider them to be more standalone ficlets. The reader is Catwoman's sidekick/adopted family with a bit of a background of her own. Special thanks to @thinkingofausername for discussing this fic with me. Adding @heavysighing-dreamyeyes @thesandsofelsweyr and @deimks post-posting.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and torture

You stalked through the dark and eerie corridors of Arkham Asylum. Weeks you have waited for this opportunity. After weeks of preparations, intel gathering and scratched furniture you’re finally here. You waited long for the perfect night, and it came today. The Arkham staff was busy locking Joker away and preening in front of Batman. They won’t even notice a small intervention. Funny, usually people would give everything to get out of Arkham Asylum. Not you though. There was someone locked away in the endless halls of the psych ward that you need to get out.

How could Selina be so careless?? Getting caught by Batman is one thing, but to get locked away in Arkham when usually she would outsmart the cops long before that would happen. Either she’s getting sloppy, or there’s more to it than meets the eye. More than worried though, you’re offended that she’s keeping things from you.

You were thieves, sure. Lying, stealing, conniving bitches… but you always had each other's backs. Ever since she found you curled up in a wet cardboard box in one of the nameless alleyways of Gotham City. The thought of her keeping things from you had you feeling uneasy.

You slinked through the vent into the much nicer corridor than the rest of the hallowed rooms in Arkham. This was a hallway leading to the director’s office. technically, you should have taken a different route through the ventilation system, but there was something you needed to take first. You’re sure Sel would more than appreciate this.

With the cameras momentarily disabled, you needed to be quick but as you walked through the corridor you heard voices getting closer. Quick as a wink, you leaped onto the ceiling, claws holding onto the wooden pilaster. You hoped the guards were stupid enough to not look up, you don’t have much time to play with them today.

Thankfully, the men armed with rifles stalked through the corridor pretty briskly, almost as if in a hurry.

Once the coast was clear, you dropped down onto the red carpet and looked around once more. Your tiny fleshlight dancing on the glass showcases.

You smiled in triumph once you found what you were looking for. The headpiece, the glasses, the gloves. All places are carefully arranged like a museum exhibit.

“Oh, a pressure-sensitive iron mantle, whatever shall I do?” You whispered to yourself dramatically before drawing a quick circle in the glass with your claws. You quickly watched the newly made glass disc as it fell out and started stuffing Selina’s belongings in your bag. Your pointy ears were perked for any upcoming sounds of danger but the place grew eerily quiet.

A shiver went down your spine. Something’s off. You couldn’t tell what but it was like a quiet before the storm.

Just as you were to hop on the ventilation bus once more you heard a voice through the speakers, and you’re as hell not one of the directors.

“Ladies and maniacs, I apologize for this interruption in your regular entertainment…”

Ah, fuck.

What seemed at first like the best night at infiltrating Arkham soon chose to be the worst. The asylum was on fire. There was no better way to say it. Joker took over the place and soon there were madmen everywhere. To your dismay, the shitstain also took over the security gates.

You kept running through the dark halls full of ingrates of the asylum and SWAT members, you weren’t particularly thrilled with meeting either of those. You sidestepped the bodies, trying to not ponder too much about the slaughterhouse you found yourself in.

Finally, you enter the Decontamination room, holding cells should be closed now. You hear some yelling as the room fills with prisoners.

“Oh, we’re gonna have with you, kitty cat.” One of them gives you a slimy sneer.

You smirk, “Oh, so do I.”

They all run up to you expecting and easy fight. Soon the room fills with their wails as your claws slice their flesh to ribbons. A well-aimed kick to the chest of one sends you flying onto the head of another. You use his head as a lever from which you kick everyone standing close. You bounce back off of him and let on your feet with grace. You straighten up hands raised but they’re all lying down. How disappointing…

A shadow passed over you and you recognize the bat-shaped cape. Shit, hopefully, he didn’t see you there. Relfexivelly you roll over to the next sliding door. The deeper you progress into the asylum the more you encounter green glowing graffiti of smiling faces.

Ugh. This is bad.

Thankfully she’s not in Extreme Isolation. Let’s see… section B2…section B2…

Your ears pick up on the sound of quiet, ragged breathing. All night, you heard the blasting of sirens, the thudding of boots, and maddened shouting. This is a new one. You keep listening to the stranger's stumbling steps, accompanied by strange shuffling. He must be leaning up against the wall.

You lower your head and raise your hands in a fighting posture, whoever it is they better not try anything funny. You hear them stumble, followed by a loud thud, then a small pathetic whine. You roll your eyes and round the corner. Whoever it is, they are more likely to threaten rats scuttling around than you, you just quickly knock them up and head to…

The moment your eyes lay on the stranger splayed on the floor, your stomach churns. It’s a man, rather small and frail one if you had to guess by the way the asylum uniform hangs on his body. A mop of matted, black hair sits on top of his head. Whatever skin you can see is either red or purple. You tentatively step closer, almost scared of what horrible things will closer proximity give you. At the sound of your heel clicking against the iron flooring, the stranger shakily pulls his head up, one blood-soaked eye staring at you in horror. He starts writhing uncontrollably, probably trying to shuffle away from you, but his body is so brutalized that all he can do is fumble in place.

“Hey…hey…calm down.” The soothing edge to your tone surprises even you, but it's hard to be intimidating when the man is so beaten up he might as well be a corpse.

Your words do not make him settle down, if anything, they agitate him even further. His movements get more erratic a quiet sobs that almost sound like a ‘no’ fall from his mouth.

You sigh. I don’t have time for this.

Nevertheless, you crouch in front of him, carefully placing your hands under his armpits to at least sit him against the wall. He tries to fight you, but there is no strength behind it. When you hold him so close, you note how bony he truly is.

“What the hell happened to you??” You mumble more to yourself than him, because at this point, you gave up hope of any conversation with him.

You grasp his chin, angling his face to get a good look at him. You try to keep your cool as you look upon a black eye so swollen you doubt he can see something, a broken nose, split lip, and sunken, bloodied mouth.

Your stomach lurches and you have to look away for a second, but then only draws your attention to the scarred arm desperately pawing at you. You notice a bloodied fingertip and upon closer inspection, you realize that this man’s nails were ripped off.

You have to squeeze your eyes for a moment, doing your hardest not to throw up or run away. You’ve seen your fair share of violence as Gotham’s criminal, but you’ve never encountered such blatant brutality.

The man’s ragged breaths bring you back to the present. Without further thinking, you put down the small backpack you brought with you and start pulling out the first aid essentials. You brought those for Selina, in case she’s roughened up from Gotham’s inmates, but whatever state she’s in, you doubt it’s as bad as this guy.

He’s mostly calm when you start wiping off the blood. No, not calm, unresponsive. He’s whole body is slack and he’s looking miles away, as if he’s mentally in a different place. Considering the naked fear in his eyes, it’s probably not a good place.

But you can’t do anything about that. You’re not a trained therapist. Hell, you’re not a trained medic, but here you are, wasting away precious resources on someone you don’t even know. Maybe he even won’t survive this night.

Yet, you continue. You find the reason behind his fall. His ankle is badly twisted. Thankfully you have experience with this type of injury.

“Uh, hey… your ankle is broken. I have to set it back. It’s uh…gonna hurt bad.” You shrug hopelessly because there’s no point in lying to him. Still, he doesn’t respond. You carefully lift his foot and place it against your thigh. You firmly grasp his ankle in one hand and his instep in the other and as quickly as you can, you twist. The bone falls back with a pop and he chokes out a painful wail. He tries to, at least. His scratched throat won’t allow more than broken wheezing. He probably wrecked his vocal cords from screaming and groaning.

You swallow bile in your throat and instead of dwelling on these thoughts, you start hauling him up. As you walk, you decide to drop this dude off somewhere safe, as safe as anywhere on Arkham island could be, and then speed off to Selina. Just a small detour. She spent two months at Arkham, she could wait another hour.

A bunch of criminals drop from the ceiling.

Or two.

Jason wasn’t sure if the girl was real, or if she was just another hallucination born from his broken mind.

This whole day could be just a dream. When the clown didn’t show up for his usual bound of torture, he assumed that the inmates of the asylum would take their turns with him. He had presented a perfect opportunity for anyone to have fun with him, with the injuries he sported from his last torture session, but the inmates he met on his way from his wing of the asylum, just passed him without even a glance. For whatever reason, that made his eyes sting with fresh tears. He’s not worthy of even that after all. Batman left him for dead, and so did Joker. What had kept him from curling up in a ball and waiting for death?

Because he waited for death for months now, and it didn’t come. Only pain pain and more pain on the top of sick games the clown played on him. He hoped that if not freedom he might as well end it on his own ends. Jason will greet the grim reaper halfway.

Instead of a skeleton with a scythe, he met a small girl with cat ears. And now said girl is throwing his barely functioning body onto a nearby hospital bed while Gotham's worst is running towards her with raised fists. Jason had to suppress the involuntary whimper that dragged its way through his throat. Too many times they walked up to him, tied to a chair, itching for a fight. This time, it wasn’t his nose getting smashed in or his head put in a swivel.

He watched as you beat up every single man who approached you, body fluid, and shoulders relaxed. Like a dancer, or a cat. One man that got too close to him got his throat garroted by your whip and thrown away like a rag doll.

A glint in the corner of his eye caught his attention. One of the prisoners feigned unconsciousness while he pulled a knife, drawn to stab you in the back while you were preoccupied with his friends. With the strength he didn’t know he had, Jason tackled the man with a yell. That surprised the ruffian enough to drop a knife, and he threw Jason to the ground like a pesky fly. Jay grunted in pain when his back hit the floor. The man stood over him but before he could do anything, a well-aimed kick pinned him to the wall beside Jason, and then he dropped to the ground.

“Nice work! We’ll make a sidekick out of you yet.”

Your voice was sweet. The amused and carefree lilt was so out of this place. No one has spoken to him like this since the Clown caught him. No one has touched him without intent to hurt him. Yet here, you are, pulling him flush to your soft body and once again walking him somewhere.

“You…real?” He looks at you through the bruising of his eye.

You adjust him against your side as you sneer down at him, “Your knight in black leather, sweetheart.”

That was the last thing Jason heard before he lost consciousness.

Carrying an injured man is fucking hard. Carrying an injured, unconscious man is even harder. You seriously considered dropping him off multiple times, but every time, you decided against it considering how much work it took to get him so far.

No good deed goes unpunished.

The network stopped working a while ago, so you had to rely on orientation signs and a few screens that still worked. You rounded the corner at the utility room. Once you make it there it should be easy. Based on what you remember from extensive studying of Arkham infrastructure, you should appear at the east of the island. You were a few feet from the door when the speakers blasted the voice of that disgusting clown. His bullshit didn’t phase you, the same can’t be said about your companion. The moment Joker’s deranged laughter reaches his ears, he completely freezes, and then starts trembling uncontrollably. It gets so intense he slips out of your grip and slides down the wall.

“Hey! No no no, not now!”

You tried to tug him up, to get him moving. But it was like his soul left his body. His breathing grew more ragged, the trembling got even worse, and a thin sheen of cold sweat coated his entire body. The man was losing control right in front of you, and you were hopeless at what to do.

Sudden frustration rose in your chest. Sel is somewhere out there, maybe hurt, definitely scared, even if she wouldn’t admit it. And you’re losing time with a man who can’t even…

Because the guy decided to lose it right under the corridor lightning, it’s the first time you see his face properly. His head lols down in defeat and that’s when you notice the letter J branded on his cheek. Fresh blood oozing from the wound, the flesh around it red and puckered. Suddenly things clicked into place. What other sick fuck would brand their name upon their victim's flesh? Several actually, at least when it comes to Gotham. But you knew only one whose name started with J. Your frustration went away.

“Listen to me… erm… what’s your name again?” No answer.

You grasp his shaking shoulders and shake him gently.

“You need to knock out of it. We’re almost out.” You try to sound as encouraging as possible, but he’s not moving or saying anything.

Instead of shaking him, you opt for taking his face in your hands.

“Look at me. Breathe.” He’s looking at you, but he doesn’t see you, eyes glazed over, bloody mouth slack-jawed.

You’re looking at this man, this boy, and wonder if he’ll ever get over the horrors he experienced in this place. If there’s even anything you can do to bring him back at this point.

Hopeless about what to do, you resort to the last thing that comes to your mind.

You kiss him.

It’s not fun, with all the blood and missing teeth, but despite it all, you notice his lips are stupidly soft and plump for an Arkham inmate.

At first, nothing happens. The shaking and labored breathing stops. You think he lost consciousness again, but when you pull away, his eyes are clear and present and he’s staring right at you.

“Now. Lets. Go.” You growl firmly as you wipe his blood from the corner of your mouth and the boy is in too much stupor to protest. He lets you take his hand and drag him towards the door.

When the cold, salty air hits your face, you almost collapse and your feet from relief. But at least one of you has to be the stable one. You take him by the shoulders and sit him on one of the concrete blocks lying around.

“Have you any idea how much time I lost because of you?!” You nagged him even as you pulled a water bottle out of your bag and pressed it to his lips.

“If you get out of here, you owe me big time.”

The guy is probably still recovering from that kiss because he was unresponsive again. At least this time you knew he was sane.

You sigh. No point standing there bitching.

“Either hide till sunrise or go to the port and sneak onto the boat. Think you can manage that? Scratch that, you don’t have any choice. I can’t coddle you anymore. I’m not here to be someone’s savior. I mean I am but not… you.”

You turn around if you take a shortcut over the buildings roofs, you should drop down to Selina’s cell unit. Hopefully, she hasn’t met Crock or Clayface on her way out.

Of course, the moment you turn away is the moment he decides to speak.

“Your… name?”

Your name? You do have one of those. The one you use as you scale rooftops and lockpick safes and break out dumb cat burglars.

With a cock of a hip and wink you blow him one last kiss.

“Stray.”

#jason todd #red hood #arkham knight #batman arkham asylum #arkhamverse #stray!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #ak!jason todd x reader #ak!jason todd #arkham knight jason todd #arkham knight jason todd x reader

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wessexroyalfamily · 12 days ago

Text

End of Chapter One

I hope to have Chapter 2 up sometime by the beginning of April (hopefully 😅). Chapter 2 will kick off in the Spring, about three or four months after the events of Chapter 1.

Thanks for all that have read and been engage!

Individual Parts linking below the cut!

Part 1 : Reception at Warminster Military College to honor graduates

Part 2 : Prince Richard graduates from Warminster Military College

Part 3 : Reception at Warminster Military College hosted by the Queen

Part 4 : The family gathers for dinner at Fogmorre Castle, while Richard goes out to celebrate with his military buddies

Part 5 : Richard returns back to Hyde Park Lodge to an upset Winnie

Part 6 : The family gather for Prince Thomas' birthday at the Queen's home, Claremont House

Part 7 : The family talk to Richard about increasing his role within the family, despite his resistance to the idea

Part 8 : Queen Anne II and Prince Christian, The Earl of Gloucester end the night at Claremont House discussing the best way forward with Richard

Part 9 : Richard spends the day with Winnie at Hyde Park Lodge, and he learns some life changing news for himself and his family

Part 10 : A staff member interrupts Queen Anne II and Prince Christian, The Earl of Gloucester to give them some upsetting news

Part 11 : Government officials discuss their concerns with Edward St. Andrews, The Duke of Worcester and the current Chancellor of the Kingdom

Three Reflections of Death

Reflection One : Anne meets with the Chancellor to discuss plans for her trip to Chester and the state funeral of Ranulf III

Reflection Two : William and Elizabeth upset that they won't be attending the funeral in Chester and Elizabeth is more upset at who is replacing them

Reflection Three : Richard seems to be upset with more than just having to pack for a last minute trip?

Part 12 : William watches the news coverage of the royal family arriving in Chester

Part 13 : Richard's uncle, Prince George, tries to comfort his nephew while they watch Christian take his oath

Part 14 : Funeral procession of Ranulf III

Part 15 : Richard finally sees his mother, Princess Margaret, again, but their reunion doesn't go how Margaret plans

Part 16 : Richard finds comfort in an old friend ... first name Jack and last name Daniels. Sadly it ends up getting him into quite the mess

Part 17 : Government is worried, the Chancellor is FREAKING OUT and the Queen is still out of the country, can William handle it ALL?

Part 18 : Christian has conversation with Richard about his antics

Part 19 : Only Winnie can make Richard feel better, even when he doesn't deserve her support . .. uhh-ohh is that a camera I see?

Part 20 : Richard gets chewed out by his grandfather, Christian, and calls the boys in to help cheer him up

Part 21 : Elizabeth is over giving Richard chances, while William knows abandoning the heir to the throne won't make anything better

Part 22 : The royals host the last garden party of the summer while the Queen is still abroad in Chester

Part 23 : The Queen meets with the Chancellor to discuss fall engagements and the ever pressing Chester question

Part 24 : FALL IS HERE! And Winnie goes on a coffee date with one of her friends and of course they talk all about Richard

Part 25 : Queen Anne II meets with a few members of her Chancellery (Privy Council) to discuss how the monarchy should approach the Chester question

Part 26 : It's family day at Elton College, the preparatory boarding school attended by Prince Thomas

Part 27 : William's always been a sucker for his kids, and leaving for their last engagement in Wessex before he and Elizabeth head on their week long tour of the Duchy of Rutland makes it hard to say goodbye

Part 28 : William and Elizabeth meet with the Chancellor to discuss their upcoming tour, Elizabeth leaves the meeting less that impressed

Part 29 : William and Elizabeth arrive in Rutland for their Week Long Tour

Part 30 : Elizabeth meets with her sister Louisa, The Dowager Duchess of Rutland to kick off the tour

Part 31 : A reception held in honor of William and Elizabeth

Part 32 : Elizabeth meets privately with her sister Louisa

Part 33 : Elizabeth calls the Chancellor . . . but does William know?

Part 34 : The Duke of Rutland holds a formal banquet at the Ducal Palace, but all does not end well for William and Elizabeth

Part 35 : Winnie drops some big truth on Richard, while he still grapples with royal life

Part 36 : Elizabeth and William arrive at Woodstock Palace for investiture day

Part 37 : Investiture day goes off without a hitch, but now William and Elizabeth must face Queen Anne II and Prince Christian

Part 38 : Richard grapples with what Winnie's news means for him and his family

Part 39 : the Royals gather at the War Memorial for Remembrance Day

Part 40 : Richard tells his close friend Thomas von Greville the . . . good news?

Part 41 : The Fall Day of Thanks celebrations being as members of the Royal Family prepare to leave Woodstock Palace for Winchester Cathedral. Part 41 is separated into two post (for second half click here)

Part 42 : The Crown Prince William meets with the Chancellor on his way into Winchester Cathedral

Part 43 : Royals gather back at Woodstock Palace for a banquet in honor of the Fall Day of Thanks

Part 44 : Winnie talks to her mom to get advice on what to say when she meets up with Richard tomorrow

Part 45 : Richard and Winnie meet at the Art Institute

Part 46 : A reception is held at Woodstock Palace, William and Elizabeth attend and William's brother notices the growing tension between the two

Part 47 : William pulls out the romance to mend his marriage

Part 48 : Queen Anne and Christian, The Earl of Gloucester arrive at Fogmorre Castle to celebrate the holiday season with family

Part 49 : Margaret arrives at Fogmorre Castle and of course Elizabeth is the first person she runs into

Part 50 : Richard's brother Prince Thomas, runs into him while Richard is taking some alone time in the family private drawing room

Part 51 Part A and Part B : The family and invited guests celebrate the holidays at a formal party hosted by the Queen at Fogmorre Castle, Richard drops from earth shattering news

Part 52 : The Queen's Holiday Broadcast announces big changes for the royal family

Part 53 : The royal family attend at holiday service at Carnarvon Chapel and great members of the public who have come to see the royals in person

Part 54 : The royals meet together to discuss hot to tackle their biggest problem yet

Part 55: Winnie learns of two options she has from Edward St. Andrew’s, neither of which she’s thrilled about

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bl00mingday · 2 months ago

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dance the night away, ch.1

summary: you just graduated from the top ranked dancing university in the world, ready to take on whatever came your way. but before immediately getting involved with professional stuff, you wanted to cut yourself some slack. so when you and your group of friends went to South Korea for a trip you definitely weren’t expecting to get recruited while dancing to some random ass kpop dancing challenge. you were baffled when the recruiter uttered the word “EXO” to you, the group that got you into dancing in the first place. so when you accepted the offer you couldn’t help but think “what the hell am i gonna do?”

word count: 2.796

content: age gap (10 years), idol!baekhyun x dancer!reader, swearing, jealousy, will include fluff, angst and smut in the upcoming chapters.

author’s note: hiii!! my first ever post, and i’m happy to say that i feel confident about it. i’m thinking about making it 5 chapters at least. i’ll try to update without long pauses, hope you enjoy ❤️

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

3..

2….

1!!!!

THROW !!!!

everyone threw their caps in the air, a symphony of happy screams, “woo!!!”s and “congratulations!!” reached my ears as i was scrambling to find my cap on the ground. ughhh why did i even throw it in the first place? i spent 5 days working on the top of the cap for it to have a pretty design just to lose it in 5 SECONDS? nuh-uh. i was cursing at myself when i heard my best friend Karina’s voice.

“hey girlll, you lookin’ for this?”

my cap!!! there it was in all it’s glory.

“OH MY GOD YES! thank you so much ‘rina, i was getting worried that someone stepped on it and turned it into dogshit.”

she laughed and added,

“well thank god that you managed to throw it directly on top of my head, how did you even do that? i was 3 rows behind you.”

she tossed me my hard-earned and hard-worked on cap. i laughed, shrugging my shoulders in an “idk man” way. just then i saw natty and chaewon walking towards us. seeing them in their graduation caps and robes was awfully nostalgic and emotional. my mind drifted to when we first met, as a group.

karina was my roommate. the first time i saw her my mind just went “wow.”, she was (and still is) awfully gorgeous. her long wavy dark indigo hair was the first thing that caught my eye. we bonded instantly thanks to her outgoing nature. and then came chaewon. I was playing Just Dance with karina and we needed a 3rd player. chaewon happened to pass by so i went up to her asking her to join us. she was a bit hesitant at first but agreed nevertheless. last but not least, natty. we were at some frat party when we saw natty twerking to water by tyla with a beer bottle in her right hand. i knew i found my lifelong friend group right then and there. 4 years later, here we are. discussing job opportunities like we weren’t complaining about attending classes just a month ago.

“i heard doja cat’s team is hiring backup dancers for Coachella.” said natty. “oh girl, there isn’t anyone better than you for the job with an ass that’s able to twerk like yours!” karina chimed in, landing a light slap on natty’s upper thigh.

“ughhh you guys are already talking about jobs? why not relax a bit?” whined chaewon, lightly jumping up and down.

“girl. this is doja cat we’re talking about.”

“you can shake ass with her after slacking off a bit, nattyyy~~”

i agreed with chaewon. we all worked super hard throughout these 4 years. we gave our blood, sweat and tears- literally. it was our right to finally breathe a bit. i actually did have an idea. how about…

“..how about south korea?” i said, haven’t been listening to what they were laughing about. they looked at me puzzled. i explained my idea of traveling there for like a week or two. we decided to talk about it later with more details and focused on taking photos for the rest of the day.

“so, why south korea?” asked natty while happily eating her lobster tail pasta.

“i mean, it’s a place i never got to go in my 22 years of life. plus we all know that seoul is an incredible city with lots of history and-“

“-and! with an amazing night life!” noted karina, earning nods and hums of agreement from the girls. after a bit of a pause chaewon broke the silence and proposed her own idea,

“let’s stay there for a whole month! we’ve graduated, hello? and i don’t wanna go to somewhere new and exciting just to return to this same old town in three days again like how we always did.”

she was right. even though we did travel during our university years we didn’t exactly explore the whole city or country that we went to. some tourist attractions and night clubs were enough for us. but this time, we were determined to make a change about that.

“okay, a month is fine by me but what about the plane tickets? the hotel? or are we gonna book an airbnb? let’s not get all giddy before planning. because 30 days?? that is a duration we never experienced before.” natty added before wiping her mouth with a napkin and taking a sip out of her wine.

“true that,” i sighed and continued “a month is great and all but it’s also gonna cost us a lot of money. we need to make sure that we won’t go broke after all those activities that i know you girls are planning to do.” i smirked while karina and natty looked at each other and giggled. we continued to talk about how this whole thing was going to unfold while chaewon asked for the check.

after bidding goodbye to the girls, karina and i went to our apartment that we had rented a month before graduation. “hey, i’m gonna shower. and it’s gonna be an everything shower.” she emphasized the word ‘everything’ with her hands, making an imaginary circle in the air. i let her know that it was fine and i didn’t have anything urgent. just as i heard the water running i plopped onto my bed, laying down like a starfish.

“korea, huh?” i mumbled to myself. of course, the first thing on my mind was exo. i was 13 when i first saw them, in their call me baby era. the way they danced was just so captivating. i immediately fell in love with their music style. the fact that it had almost been 10 years, a decade, since i became a fan of them was making me realize just how fast time flew by. and since i was still a kid when i was 13-14, i didn’t really consider how one of the members might’ve had an impact on me. i only came to realize it during their obsession era.

byun baekhyun.

the sexy yet cute, childish but mature, honey voiced main vocalist of the group. god, he was so.. unreal. the way his white hair bounced on his forehead while he was dancing away, the way he looked in the camera with that goddamn face chain felt like he was staring directly into my soul. oh god- and his hands? his infamous hands? don’t get me started on those hands of his.

i felt a slight blush creeping up on my cheeks. i sighed heavily, knowing that my celebrity crush was.. nothing more than a celebrity crush really. he didn’t know i existed, had millions of fans waiting to throw themselves at him and plus i’m sure he has many beautiful women around him that are just as talented as him. hell, he might even have a girlfriend. i sighed one more time, aware of the fact that i was just a mere fan in the huge ocean of exo-ls. i decided to sulk about it later and opened my laptop to search for an affordable airbnb.

after what felt like an eternity, we got everything done. the airbnb, the plane tickets, the financial aspect… we managed to handle them all. and the day finally came. we met up at the airport and as much as we were excited, we were also anxious.

“you checked everything right? our passports? we have them right?” karina nagged me 7 times in the span of 45 minutes. this was her 8th.

“ughhhh yes, rinaaaa. i did.”

“did you che-“

“yes, i QUADRUPLE checked before leaving the house.”

karina nodded with a slight look of worry on her face. she always got super nervous before passport control. chaewon was looking around to find the airport’s duty-free. natty was chatting with a guy that seemed to be a little too into her, but she knew how to handle attention so i let her be.

after 30 minutes i called them over to check-in. and then passport control and lastly -finally- we managed to board the plane. the seat arrangement of the plane was different than the other ones that we flew with. 2 seats on the right and the left, with 4 seat in the middle. we were happy that we got to sit together. since it was a 15 hour flight, i decided to look through my notes of the places that we were going to visit to kill some time.

“so which night clubs we gon’ go to?” said a very sleepy natty, “i know club double 8 is pretty popular.”

“just go to sleep nat, you’ll think about partying tomorrow.” giggled chaewon.

. . .

holy shit.

fuck.

what? how was baekhyun standing in front of me???

what was happening?

his dark brown eyes never leaving mine. he gestured me to come over.

i obliged, who was i to turn THE BYUN BAEKHYUN down?

he sat down on some type of stool, pushed his hips slightly upwards and just like that, he was manspreading. baekhyun motioned for me to sit on his lap, lightly patting his left upper thigh. i’m SURE that my mouth was hanging open the whole time but who cares? I’M SITTING ON BAEKHYUN’S LAP!! baekhyun caressed my cheeks with his hands, his right thumb brushing my lips. i licked my lips, admiring his handsome face. his left hand found its way to my waist, then to my ass. i could feel myself throb at his lustful action. baekhyun licked his lips ever so slowly, leaned into my left ear and asked after slightly pausing,

“beef or chicken?”

…what.

“ma’am, beef or chicken?” my eyes flung open and i think i gasped, because the flight attendant looked taken aback.

“uh- um- beef, please.” i smiled at her sheepishly, taking the beef that was supposed to be my dinner out of her hands. she smiled and went on with her duty. karina snickered, “dude, what was that about? were you having a wet dream?” SHIT. HOW DID SHE KNOW? she laughed quietly, imitating my puzzled face.

“girl, you were saying “mmh” and “mhm” all the damn time. how could i NOT notice?” i felt myself burning up. it’s like she read my mind. damn you byun baekhyun. i looked over to my left to find natty and chaewon quietly eating their meals, seems like they were too busy to even notice my embarrassing actions while sleeping.

finally, we landed after almost 16 hours, the flight took a bit longer than expected but it was fine. we quickly found an uber to take us to our airbnb, meeting the owners when we arrived. they were a lovely couple leaving for their honeymoon. we wished them a happy honeymoon and settled in. of course, natty immediately wanted to go out and explore the lively city of seoul.

“come on girls, we’re finally here! what are y’all waiting for?!”

chaewon looked unamused, “have you ever heard of ‘jetlag’? let us rest a bit, damn.”

“yeah, natty. maybe we should get used to the time difference here, what do you say?” karina asked, clearly very tired from all the running around at the airport. contrary to karina and chaewon, i wasn’t tired. i felt pumped actually. maybe it was the excitement of being in a new place or maybe it was the adrenaline from my dream with baekhyun. eh, it didn’t matter.

“i’ll come natty!” i said eagerly. she smiled widely, “finally! someone that’s not 80 years old apparently!” we both giggled while karina and chaewon was barely registering what we said.

“okie, well, we’ll be back in an hour or so! bye girlies!” exclaimed natty and pulled me by my wrist.

“Y/N?? WHERE ARE- Y/N!!” i heard natty shouting from a distance. i may have gotten lost when i didn’t wait for her to get tteokbeokki skewers. long story short, i wandered off without her AND MY PHONE, which i forgot was in her bag. the stars somehow ended up aligning for me because i found myself walking towards a random kpop dance challenge in public. with crowds of people watching, filming and waiting for a song that they know to come on. i spent a good 10 minutes watching them and cheering people on. just then growl by exo came on. of course, i rushed with the other people to dance and somehow ended up in front row, putting a show for cheerful strangers singing the fan-chant. then i spotted a very mad looking natty watching me. as soon as the song switched to another one, i smiled from ear to ear to my fellow dancers and immediately rushed over to her.

“where the hell have you been?! i got scared to death! don’t you know how many creeps could be lurking out there?!” i was breathing very heavily but i managed to get out an apology. natty hugged me tightly, giving me my phone back while stating that she would never carry it again. before i could whine about it, i felt a tap on my shoulder,

“excuse me, ma’am.”

we turned around to see a petite figure of a young woman wearing a black cap and a black mask looking up expectantly to me as she was… short. very short.

“yes?”

“hello. my name is song jiwoo. i work as a talent recruiter in INB100. and i wanted to ask if you would want to become a backup dancer for EXO, as they have a big 13th anniversary concert planned. here’s my card. please confirm wether you would want to come to the interview or not in 24 hours.”

INB100.. exo… 13th anniversary concert… dance… me…

i was trying to process what she had just proposed to me. then i realized she was still looking up at me, patiently waiting for an answer.

“uh- uhm, yes!!” i shouted a little, making natty snort. clearing my throat i continued,

“yes, thank you for the opportunity. i will let you know in no time.” i smiled as i shook her hand. she bowed lightly and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.

natty shook me, squeeling happily, “GIRL OH MY FUCKING GODDDD!!??? LIKE WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED??? YOU WILL TAKE IT RIGHT?? RIGHT?!!” i was still examining the card that jiwoo handed me.

after a looooong story time about what happened, karina and chaewon looked at us, their expressions filled with surprise. the room fell silent. clearly, they were waiting for me to say something.

“you will accept it, right? we all know how big of a fan you are of them.” said karina softly, squeezing my right hand reassuringly.

“i know,” i huff “but it just feels hypocritical you know… telling you guys to relax and not take on jobs… while if i accept this, i’m gonna be doing the opposite of what we intended to do with this trip.” i groaned, taking my face into my own hands.

“girl, you’re fucking crazy. none of us will judge you whatsoever for taking a great- an INCREDIBLE job opportunity! this might change your life. and who knows, maybe you’ll get laid by an exo member~” said natty suggestively while making kissing noises. we laughed. after a long pause, i finally spoke up.

“i will take it.”

karina and natty immediately hugged me, showering me with encouraging words. chaewon patted my back, i sensed something with her acting like this but i decided to ignore it. she was really tired from the moment we landed after all.

after researching if song jiwoo was a real recruiter of INB100, i dialed her number.

…ring…

..ri- “hello. this is song jiwoo.”

i looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 03.47 am. i sighed- it was more of a huff really.

after years of looking up to them, i was going to be beside them.

training with them.

dancing with them.

…

what the hell am i gonna do?

>> part 2 << / >>part 3<<

#exo fanfic #exo #exo k #exo l #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #baekhyun exo #baekhyun smut #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #exo smut #exo fluff #kpop boys #kpop fanfic

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clarisse0o · 1 month ago

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The Mayor - Chapter 42

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 700

Masterlist

———————————————————————

It was a Friday evening, and we were in a list meeting. The room buzzed with energy—ideas flowing, the weight of upcoming deadlines pressing on us. We were a month away from the elections, the final stretch, where every ounce of effort mattered.

The polls had Lucy in the lead, but by a razor-thin margin of just 1.5%. Virtually nothing in a city of over 200,000 residents.

The past few weeks had been relentless: pounding the pavement, attending meetings, handing out flyers, trying to convince more and more people. All this while continuing my job at the office, squeezing every free moment into the campaign. It was exhausting, no doubt.

“You’re doing 45-hour days! Slow down—I want you to see your goddaughter grow up!” Alexia teased, though I could tell she was genuinely concerned. She thought, and not entirely wrongly, that while I enjoyed campaigning, I had thrown myself into it recklessly because of Lucy. She worried about where it all might lead.

“Don’t worry, Alexia, I’ve got this! And look, at least I’m smoking less!” I reassured her with a smile.

In the past weeks, I had occasionally run into Lucy’s campaign team while flyering, but never Lucy herself—only her face on those enormous election posters plastered all over the city. It was tough seeing those piercing blue eyes multiple times a day. Painful, even. I still thought about her a lot, a mix of resentment and disappointment.

That Sunday morning, I was at the city square market, mingling with voters alongside Philippe and another teammate. It was the day after Philippe’s big rally, which had drawn a packed crowd.

Then I saw her—Lucy. Walking towards us, flanked by two of her people. Lucy, in midnight blue pants and a white blouse that accentuated her striking eyes.

Avoiding her was impossible; there was no escape. My heart pounded. I hadn’t seen her since that last time. My hands turned clammy. Stay in control.

When she spotted me, her smile froze. As often happens in politics, we had to pretend. Lucy and Philippe despised each other, but there was no way they could cross paths at a market, in front of voters and a few journalists, without exchanging pleasantries. Lucy excelled at this, forcing a smile and feigning friendliness.

She ignored me completely—except for a single, frosty glance to acknowledge me. It was colder than ice.

Feeling deeply uneasy, I excused myself and headed to the nearby public restrooms.

Inside, I tried to collect my breath and thoughts.

Suddenly, someone burst in, locking the door behind them.

It was Lucy, standing less than two meters away. She had followed me. Her gaze was anything but friendly.

“What the—”

She cut me off.

“You’re such a bitch, Ona! You want to play this game? Make me look like a liar?”

I stammered, unable to find words.

“Why are you saying this to me?”

She was seething.

“I heard about last night’s rally—specifically that idiot’s attack on the airport expansion project!”

I realized where this was going. She was referring to a campaign promise she’d made about expanding the airport. When we were together, we had often discussed politics, and she’d confided in me about the project’s challenges. There were expert reports that questioned its feasibility, and the state was resistant to its high cost. It wasn’t dead, but it was shaky. Yet it remained a key plank in her platform.

Philippe, staunchly against it for environmental reasons, had discussed it with me. I had, perhaps carelessly, mentioned the possibility that it might not happen. He’d done his own digging and unearthed those reports.

He had used this in his speech, leaving Lucy in a tight spot.

“I’m sure you’re the one who told him all that!”

Lucy could barely contain her fury.

“He’s a journalist, Lucy—he dug it up on his own!”

Her eyes blazed.

“I swear, Ona, you shouldn’t have gotten involved… See you in a week.”

She stormed out, furious.

I struggled to breathe, shaken by the sheer intensity of her reaction.

In a week, I’d see her again—this time for the first of the major public debates between the candidates.

What kind of game had I gotten myself into?

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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mybelovedwoo · 7 days ago

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Long Journey - Chapter 16: The Calm Before the Storm

Life hurts a lot, that's just how it is. At least that is what Destiny thought, living a life where living hurts more than dying. But one day everything changes when an unexpected guest appears. What does this long journey hide behind? Will it be worth it to be alive again?

"Sailors tell stories, Pirates make legends!"

ateez pirate au, fluff, angst, smut

??? x named reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: violence, fighting, guns and weaponry, blood injuries, trauma, smut, sa, pa, abuse specific to this chapter: violence, weaponry, battle,injuries, SMUT!!!

← previous | next → | masterlist

The ship sailed smoothly through the open waters, the crew united in their purpose. The interrogation of Black had provided them with crucial information, but the tension on board remained palpable. Everyone knew that the calm seas they were navigating were merely the prelude to the storm that lay ahead.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the horizon, Destiny found herself on the deck, taking in the serene beauty of the ocean. The tranquility was a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within her.

Hongjoong approached her, his expression thoughtful. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Destiny smiled faintly. "Just thinking about how far we've come. And how much further we have to go."

Hongjoong nodded, leaning on the railing beside her. "We've been through a lot, but we're stronger for it. And we'll face whatever comes next."

Destiny glanced at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of determination and uncertainty. "Do you ever wonder if it's all worth it?"

Hongjoong sighed, staring out at the sea. "Every day. But then I look at this crew, at you, and I know it is. We fight for each other, for a future where we're not just surviving but living."

Their conversation was interrupted by Seonghwa, who joined them with a serious look. "Captain, we need to discuss our next move."

Hongjoong straightened, nodding. "Let's gather everyone."

The crew assembled on the deck, the fading light casting long shadows over their faces. Hongjoong spread out a map on a barrel, pointing to their current location and their next destination.

"Based on the information we got from Black, we know his crew is hiding out on a small island not too far from here," Hongjoong explained. "We'll approach under cover of darkness and take them by surprise."

Yeosang frowned, studying the map. "What about reinforcements? If Black's crew calls for backup, we could be outnumbered."

Seonghwa nodded in agreement. "We need to be prepared for anything. We can't afford to be caught off guard."

Hongjoong looked around at his crew, his eyes fierce with resolve. "We'll strike hard and fast. No mercy. This ends here."

The crew murmured their assent, the weight of the upcoming battle settling over them. They dispersed to make final preparations, each person lost in their own thoughts.

Destiny found herself gravitating towards San, who was checking his weapons. She watched him for a moment before speaking. "San, about what happened with Black..."

San looked up, his expression softening. "Don't worry, Destiny. We're ready for this."

She nodded, but her eyes betrayed her worry. "I just hope we all make it through."

San placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We will. We have to."

As night fell, the ship approached the island stealthily. The crew was on high alert, every sound magnified in the stillness of the night. They anchored a safe distance away, lowering rowboats into the water to make their approach.

Destiny, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and the others led the way, rowing silently towards the shore. The island loomed ahead, dark and foreboding. They could see the faint glow of campfires through the trees, marking the location of Black's crew.

Once they reached the shore, they moved swiftly and quietly, spreading out to surround the camp. Destiny's heart pounded in her chest, her senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Hongjoong signaled for them to move in, and they advanced with precision. The element of surprise was on their side as they burst into the camp, weapons drawn.

Chaos erupted as Black's crew scrambled to defend themselves. The clash of steel and shouts of battle filled the air. Destiny fought alongside her crewmates, her training and determination driving her forward.

San was a whirlwind of fury, cutting down enemies with relentless efficiency. Seonghwa moved with deadly grace, every strike calculated and precise. Hongjoong commanded the battle with strategic brilliance, guiding his crew with unwavering leadership.

In the midst of the battle, Destiny found herself face-to-face with one of Black's lieutenants. He sneered at her, underestimating her because of her size. But Destiny was ready. She dodged his attacks with agility, using her smaller stature to her advantage. With a swift and decisive move, she disarmed him, knocking him to the ground.

As the battle raged on, it became clear that Hongjoong's crew had the upper hand. The element of surprise and their superior training gave them the advantage. One by one, Black's men fell or surrendered.

Finally, the camp was secured. Hongjoong's crew stood victorious, but the cost of the battle was evident in their weary expressions and the injuries they bore. They gathered in the center of the camp, catching their breath and assessing the situation.

"We did it," Yeosang said, his voice filled with both relief and exhaustion.

Hongjoong nodded, his gaze sweeping over his crew. "We did. But we need to stay vigilant. There could be more out there."

Seonghwa and San joined them, their expressions grim but resolute. "We'll set up a perimeter and keep watch," Seonghwa said.

As the crew settled in for the night, Destiny found a moment of quiet. She looked up at the stars, feeling a sense of accomplishment and hope. They had won this battle, but the war was far from over.

Destiny noticed San's wound had opened and was bleeding. She frowned, concern etched on her face. "San, you should have been more careful with that wound."

San shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face. "It's okay. I know you'll always patch me up."

Destiny shook her head, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "After we get back to the ship, you should make a visit to the infirmary so I can treat you again."

San nodded, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "I will. And thanks, Destiny." She nodded back, the weight of the day's events settling over her.

The next morning, the crew was up early, each member taking on their duties with a renewed sense of vigor. The island camp was bustling with activity as they prepared for their journey back to the ship.

Destiny found herself working alongside Yeosang and Jongho, securing additional provisions. As they loaded the supplies, Yeosang glanced at her and smiled. "You've come a long way, Destiny. Your skills and determination have really impressed us."

"Thanks," she replied, beaming. "I'm trying my best."

As they finished their task, Hongjoong called the crew together. "We need to keep moving. We've secured this area, but we can't stay here for long. We'll head back to the ship and prepare for our next mission."

Back on the ship, San made his way to the infirmary, his wound aching and needing attention. As he stepped inside, he noticed Destiny at the far end of the room, focused on treating her own injuries from the skirmish with Mingi and the recent battle.

His heart clenched at the sight. "Destiny, what are you doing? You should have someone help you with that," he said, concern evident in his voice.

Destiny looked up, a small smile playing on her lips despite the pain. "It's alright, San. I've got it under control."

San stepped closer, his eyes filled with worry. "Still, you shouldn't have to do this alone."

She shook her head gently. "I'm fine, really. But let me take a look at your wound. Sit down."

Reluctantly, San sat on the edge of the cot. But as Destiny reached out to lift his shirt, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

"San, let me help you," she insisted, her voice gentle but firm.

Instead of replying, San pulled her closer, his grip on her wrist firm but not painful. His eyes locked onto hers, and before she could say another word, he leaned in and kissed her passionately.

The kiss was intense, filled with all the worry, relief, and the feelings he had to hold back. Destiny's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly melted into the kiss, her free hand finding its way to his hair. The infirmary faded away, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, sharing a connection that went beyond words.

As the kiss deepened, San's hands moved to cup her face, his fingers tangling in her hair. Destiny's hands found their way to his chest, feeling the warmth and strength beneath his skin. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the heat building between them.

San broke the kiss briefly, his breath ragged. "Destiny, are you sure?"

She nodded, her eyes dark with desire. "Yes, San. I want this. I want you."

With a growl of need, San captured her lips again, lifting her off the ground and carrying her to the cot. They fell onto it together, a tangle of limbs and urgent kisses. Destiny's hands roamed over San's body, feeling the hard lines of his muscles and the rapid beat of his heart.

San's touch was everywhere, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He was gentle yet insistent, his hands exploring every inch of her. They shed their clothes, their movements growing more frantic as the passion between them built to a fever pitch.

Destiny gasped as San's lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. She arched against him, her body aching for his touch. San's hands were on her hips, pulling her closer, aligning their bodies perfectly.

In the dim light of the infirmary, they came together, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. The world outside ceased to matter, and for those moments, they were the only two people in existence. The connection between them was electric, a perfect melding of bodies and souls.

When it was over, they lay tangled together on the cot, their breaths mingling as they came down from the high of their lovemaking. San pressed a tender kiss to Destiny's forehead, his heart full of a love he could no longer hide.

"Destiny," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you."

Destiny looked up at him, her eyes shining, but instead of replying, she kissed him softly, her lips curving into a smile. The unspoken promise in her kiss was enough for San, who returned the kiss with equal tenderness.

San and Destiny fell asleep in each other's arms, the night wrapping them in a cocoon of warmth and newfound intimacy. The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the infirmary's small window, casting a gentle light on their intertwined forms.

In the middle of the night, San woke up, his internal clock finely tuned to the rhythms of the ship. He carefully slipped out of Destiny's embrace, trying not to wake her. She stirred slightly but remained asleep, a peaceful expression on her face. San couldn't help but smile as he watched her for a moment longer, still in awe that he had won the heart of the woman he loved.

San quickly dressed and stepped out of the infirmary, closing the door quietly behind him. As he made his way back to his quarters, his mind was still filled with thoughts of Destiny. He felt a rush of joy and contentment but knew he had to be careful. The ship was no place for reckless decisions.

Just as he was about to turn the corner towards his quarters, he ran into Hongjoong, who was patrolling the ship, ensuring everything was in order. The captain's eyes narrowed as he took in San's disheveled appearance.

"San," Hongjoong said, his tone low and serious. "What were you doing in the infirmary this late?"

San hesitated, knowing he couldn't lie to his captain. "I was with Destiny," he admitted, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest.

Hongjoong's expression darkened. "I told you to keep your feelings in check. This isn't just about you. It's about the crew, the mission. Do you understand the risks? What if she gets pregnant? What if your relationship causes division among the crew?"

San took a deep breath, meeting Hongjoong's gaze head-on. "I know the risks, Captain. But I can't help how I feel. I love her. I've tried to ignore it, to push it aside, but I can't. She means everything to me."

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "San, this isn't just about love. It's about duty. It's about the lives of everyone on this ship. You need to be able to make decisions with a clear head, not one clouded by emotion."

San nodded, understanding the gravity of Hongjoong's words but unwilling to back down. "I hear you, Captain. And I promise, I won't let my feelings for Destiny compromise my duty to this crew. But I won't deny my love for her either."

Hongjoong studied San for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Alright. But be careful, San. We can't afford any distractions, especially not now. Get some rest. We'll need everyone at their best in the days ahead."

San nodded, relieved that the conversation was over but knowing that he had to be more mindful in the future. "I understand. Goodnight, Captain."

As San walked back to his quarters, he couldn't help but think about Destiny. He knew their love was a risk, but it was a risk he was willing to take. He'd protect her, no matter what.

Back in the infirmary, Destiny stirred, sensing the emptiness beside her. She smiled to herself, thinking of San, and fell back into a peaceful sleep, unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

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peargor · 2 months ago

Note

Not quite sure if sent the message cause bad internet connection so i'll just paste the whole thing here again incase:

Hey peargor!(donno if you're still using tumblr bt whatever) Let me Congrats ya for your coming completion on Touhou project first (yay恭喜)

Here's the wandering dude from mainland china(typical netizen lol)and randomly clicked into ya website while visiting webrings & link collections.Lotta ideas jump through my head and letme say a few words below: BoTWR's really a good series from my perspective,like,Dispite having gaps when understanding the lore,i still can kinda understand the characters,from core to spirit(Cantonese's partly cognizable for mandarin viewers so it kinda fun when lookin' zoey swearing lol)I guess a variety of mainland audience would like it too.Like,it even inspired me to have a look back into the history and mess 'n hongkong on the "great firewall" and made me sorta think deeply about all these mess……but anyways,here's imaginary non medal stickers：

"Mandarin approved"and

"i concerned for la nation"(just kidding),

and i'll keep focusing on the series(actually the others' quite adorable too,sure it took me a while to realize that you actually deeply involve in internet meme culture,after the shock when i found you do made the pogchamp meme gosh)

Btw Just wondering,did the reading disorder cause you to use more english in written form stuff?

Looking forward for the upcoming new chapters yet a few more words:

1:LIT ' O TOMMIE DESERVES ＢＥＴＴＥＲ Yo

Poor tommy,hope he 'll get a chance to be a man

2:mmm how and what would zoey's dad be…… He's sorta a villain for now but i hope he's just a dude who failed to correct his own fault by force or "internal error"?

3:that color can be some exposure of one's emotion thing.yeah classic "into head" thingy but perhaps it means more deep than what it seems?Maybe Blue represents the sadness,niche thoughts,hopeless rational thinking,Yellow's cheerfully craziness,Red's cruelly dialectical greedin' justice,and BLACK's something unresist-able unless you learn some real floyd's philosophy thing?

You can get some new referencing idea from the old HK's TVB show like "大时代"(The Greed of a man),also some new from mainland that accidentally have more coverage report on hk which apple dailys' doesn't(?),Trust me,gotta be good for setting both character and lore

Whatever,Best wishes on not getting perished by cops!(pretty sure you won't be cause you probably haven't spoke something politically for at least 2 years on the public internet and you won't be caught for drawing "china virus girl?" and political comments too early haha)

PS:Try to get yourself a fan-base besides the old social meida the X,patron,like a mewe,discord group somethin' alike for a better place for talks 'n discussion i suppose?

Hi fellow netizen! I'm sure the mainland would like to read the comics but that really opens up a can of worms that I'm not prepared to deal with yet, so for now I'll refrain from translating the comics.

1: Tommy has the happiest life compared to the rest of the main cast I wouldn't worry too much about him lol

2: mm it's much more complicated, I also think my audience expects a political opinion from me. It ties to my own experiences with asian culture in general. I am very critical, but I think the public expectation to what I'm critical of is kinda skewed at the moment. There's so much nuance to this story I hope people have a healthy discussion over the conclusion of Zoey's arc in the future.

3: Yellow, Blue and Red are the key colours. What they represent is up to your own interpretation. To me yellow is the self/your values, blue is career/ambition, and red is religion/community/family. There's more colours down the road but these are the most important ones. If there's going to be discussions over the story please feel free to create those spaces! I haven't done so because I am the main writer and I would like these things to happen naturally in the future. It feels wrong for me to create a space as someone with complete authority over the story.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts on IWBTWR! Sorry it took so long to respond, I've been trying to find the words to convery my thoughts properly.

#comic #cartoon #iwbtwr

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freesia-writes · 10 months ago

Text

Ch 11: Farmer's Market

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 3.1k

The Town Square Farmer’s Market was a glorious cacophony of colors, sights, and sounds, and nearly everyone on the island crammed into the large cobblestoned area to peruse the various wares for sale, to snack from a plethora of food vendors, and to socialize in groups both large and small. There were breads and baskets, fruits and flowers, and vegetables of all kinds. Local artisans displayed their creations, and various opportunities and upcoming events were advertised at informational tables.

One of these tables was occupied by Echo, who had commandeered Hunter and Crosshair to promote a new class that would soon be offered at his Defense Training Academy. While the school as a whole was a rigorous and in-depth program with the goal of preparing a makeshift military to ensure the island’s safety in case of invasion or attack, he’d received repeated requests for smaller-scale civilian opportunities. After a bit of brainstorming and discussion, the brothers had agreed to offer some one-day workshops for personal self-defense. There was very little crime on the island, mostly consisting of young scallywags trying to exert premature independence by stealing or vandalizing, but Echo firmly believed that there was no such thing as too much precaution, and he wasn’t alone in the sentiment.

It was an uncharacteristically warm day, providing a nice reprieve from the chilly weather of late. Cheerful music drifted across the plaza as people milled about, occasionally stopping at the DTA table to ask questions or enroll. When a sufficient crowd had gathered nearby, Echo announced that a quick demonstration was about to take place, catching the attention of other passersby. He explained the benefits of knowing how to protect yourself against a variety of attacks, then gestured to Hunter and Crosshair for the first scenario.

“I hope this makes you happy,” Hunter muttered, playing the part of the assailant. He was better at hand-to-hand by nature and by engineering, and they both knew it. So it took a particularly bitter amount of humility to intentionally allow himself to be bested by the sniper, although the tables would be turned in the next example.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle,” Crosshair hissed beneath his breath, blocking a sudden swing and twisting Hunter around with an awkwardly bent elbow, pulling him against his front and pausing while Echo narrated. They stayed that way for a moment before breaking apart, preparing for the next encounter. This time it was Hunter who would be defending, and he caught a somewhat malicious glint in Crosshair’s eye as they squared up to each other.

Echo described the setting and approach, then the brothers moved into action. But what was supposed to be a simple surprise attack from behind turned into a swipe of the legs, dropping Hunter on his butt with a less-than-graceful thump. Crosshair was on him in a flash, but he was ready, twisting in a catlike motion to launch his brother backward with a well-placed foot. Springing to his feet, they were on each other immediately, swapping blows and blocks with lightning-fast precision. Perhaps it had been a rough week, or there had been some built-up angst in the silver-haired soldier, but Hunter could sense his frustration rising.

A flashback came unbidden, transporting Hunter to the training facility on Kamino, where he had tried to convince Crosshair to leave the Empire and rejoin them, but their chat had been interrupted by the sudden activation of wave upon wave of droids. They’d grappled then as they did now, with Crosshair’s attacks being messy and scattered whereas Hunter’s were tight and precise. A particularly wide swing gave Hunter an opening, and he charged, wrapping both arms around Crosshair’s waist and bringing them both to the ground, where he pinned him quickly.

“What is wrong with you?” Hunter panted, tufts of hair falling in his face as he looked down at the narrowed eyes of the sniper. But a wry grin curved across Crosshair’s thin face in response, and he jerked his chin toward the crowd. Following his gaze, Hunter noticed that they had attracted quite an audience, all of whom were staring at them in hushed amazement with wide eyes and open mouths.

“Thought we’d give them a real show,” Crosshair muttered, pushing Hunter off as he released him. Echo was glaring daggers at the two, having been left out of this particular plan, but his indignation was short-lived as his table was immediately flooded with awestruck onlookers clamoring to learn how to do that. Hunter rose to his feet, brushing off his shirt and extending a hand to Crosshair, who took it with a satisfied grin, then rested a gentle hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Good job.”

“You could have told me,” Hunter huffed.

“What’s the fun in that?” came the provoking reply.

“Hot dang, that was awesome!” a bright voice rang out, distracting the two from their lighthearted stare-down. Luciana had pushed her way through the crowd, clapping her hands together as she beamed at each of them in turn. “Where did you pick up all that?”

“It’s all from Echo’s magnificent teaching,” Crosshair said with affectionate sarcasm.

“Man. I’ve gotta get me some of that!” Luciana giggled. “Those were the fastest moves I’ve ever seen.” Her congenial pat on Crosshair’s shoulder slowly shifted into a slow stroke down his spine that momentarily threw him off his game with a confusing mixture of aversion and flattery. He sniffed disdainfully, repositioning his shoulders before leaving to join Echo at the table without another word. Unaffected, Luci turned to Hunter, rosy cheeks framing her winning smile as she continued, “Want to try me?”

“What?” Hunter hadn’t the slightest idea what she was asking. Surely it wasn’t an invitation to fake an attack on her, after what she’d seen? Perhaps this was more of her flirting? She reached up to carefully remove her colorfully beaded earrings, one at a time, and tucked them into her sling purse before tossing it off to the side. Pulling a stupefied Hunter onto a grassy knoll, she tightened the bandana that was tied around her messy red curls atop her head before squaring up to him.

“Come on,” she said playfully, “Get me.”

“Get you…?” he echoed, still dumbfounded. She was wearing flowy white pants and a small, white crop top with lace sleeves that rested below each shoulder. A golden piercing sparkled in her belly button, accentuated by the low-rise of her pants, and she moved forward, pushing him in the chest in an impish challenge. Hunter’s mouth went dry, hands awkwardly clasping and releasing at his side.

“I can take you, Xyrgio,” Luci goaded, making a kissy face at him. “Unless you’re afraid of messing up your hair?”

“I mean… alright…?” Hunter said, calculating the swiftest way to end it with minimal risk of hurting her… or touching something he shouldn’t. He really didn’t see a point to all this, but she didn’t seem to be inclined to let him off the hook anytime soon. Better to get it over with when it seemed inevitable.

Without warning, he leapt around her side, bringing an arm up to brace it across her collarbone, his entire focus centering on avoiding certain areas and being gentle. But she wasn’t so soft, moving far too quickly as she steadied herself with a foot behind, grabbing Hunter’s forearm with both hands and throwing her torso forward, using a calculated pivot point to catapult him over her shoulders. He landed on his back in front of her, too shocked to be insulted as the wind whooshed out of his lungs, and he stared up at her with an open mouth as she stood over him, upside down in his slightly blurred vision.

“Told ya so!” she chirped happily, giving Crosshair a wiggly-fingered wave as he clapped loudly from the table behind them. “Sorry, was that too much?” she asked, reaching down to grab both Hunter’s hands and attempting to pull him up to his feet. It took him a second to be anything more than dead weight, but he eventually stood up, regaining his composure with a slightly flustered grin.

“Looks like you know a thing or two,” he muttered, rubbing the small of his back. She adjusted her top, scooping her breasts up to restore the perfectly-curved cleavage, and neatly tugged her sleeves to lay gently across each bicep.

“When you’ve been as many places as I have, you’ve got to have a few tricks up your sleeve. Especially in my lines of work,” Luci said, giving him a suggestive wink before moving to cup his cheek. “But don’t worry, I won’t beat you up anytime soon.”

Hunter chuckled absently, still not sure what to do. Fortunately, he was spared from any further humiliation by a sudden hug from Luciana, a pat on the chest, and a chipper goodbye as she darted off to buy fruit, or meet a friend, or whatever she’d said as she disappeared. Not a second had passed before Crosshair appeared with the biggest smug grin Hunter had ever seen, and that was saying a lot.

“Maybe she should be teaching the class…” he remarked, dodging the elbow Hunter threw at him.

“What was I supposed to do with that?” a flustered Hunter asked, more genuine than rhetorical. Crosshair shrugged in response, pulling a toothpick from his pocket and lazily tucking it into the corner of his mouth.

“I would have kicked her ass.”

* * *

Early afternoon found the team packing up, the Market dwindling as everyone’s commerce and conversations finished. Hunter and Echo remained, putting the last of the table supplies into a cart drawn by one of the island fathiers, which were used frequently by the locals for everything from farm labor to recreational riding. The two clones paused by the cart, Echo giving Hunter an unreadable look.

“What?”

“You and Cross alright? That seemed a little heated.”

“I never know,” Hunter sighed. “He’s been a little edgy since he started at the observatory. He said it was just to impress the crowd.”

“Well, it worked…” Echo noted with a dry chuckle.

“Meh. He’s always got something up his–”

“Hello!” Echo interrupted, nodding behind Hunter to Lyra, who had approached from the last stall of the market. A large canvas bag slung over her shoulder was full of flowers and fruits, providing a pop of color against the loose sage green jumpsuit she wore beneath a long beige cardigan.

“Hi,” Lyra said sheepishly, offering a small wave to both. “I was told I had to come see the fighting.”

“Oh really,” Hunter said, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “And who told you that?”

“I don’t even know,” she chuckled, “But it sounded like the showdown of the century.”

“It felt like the cheap shot of the century,” Hunter grumbled, hand returning to his back where his spine had hit a particularly hard patch of dirt.

“Aww, I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, “You hurt?”

“No.” His answer was almost too fast, and Echo bit back a smirk at the thinly-veiled indignation.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I can barely walk after yesterday,” Lyra offered, patting her own backside. She was of course referring to the tumble she’d taken down the beach cliff, landing squarely on her tailbone on the rocky shore beneath, but Echo knew nothing about that, a loud guffaw bursting out of him.

“Oh really?” he said, turning toward Hunter with an overly-dramatic tilt of the head. If looks could kill, he would have been dissolved on the spot, but he was free to waggle his eyebrows and nod enthusiastically. “Sounds like you two have been having some fun!”

Lyra may have been a little awkward, but she was no spring chicken, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, face turning bright red. It was endearing enough to distract Hunter from the eighteen different ways he was considering how to skewer Echo alive, and he shook his head to clear the thoughts as she spluttered.

“Oh gosh, no, not like that, I just meant…” she paused for an incredibly nervous laugh, “I fell when we were hiking, and landed on my butt, and… Geez. Well, nice to meet you.” She finished by burying her entire face in her hands for a moment before lifting it to look at Echo.

“At ease, soldier,” Echo teased, ignoring Hunter’s suddenly sharp look. But Echo had an excuse for the potentially-identifying language that the others didn’t, with the Training Academy and what he’d shared about his own history of being in the private military of some abstract, remote planet. It was Hunter who remained paranoid in comparison, still carrying his lifelong vigilance to protect his family in any situation. Echo offered her his hand, which she shook as weakly as she smiled, “The name’s Echo. And you must be Lyra.”

“Yes. Echo. Hi,” she offered. “Hunter and I are just friends,” she blurted out, causing Echo to do his best to stifle another laugh. The phrase created an odd sensation for Hunter, but he pushed the thoughts away.

“Yes. I’ve heard,” Echo nodded. “It’s good. Hunter could use some friends.” The aforementioned (ex) Sergeant took advantage of Lyra’s distraction as she shifted her canvas bag from one shoulder to the other to swiftly stick an elbow in Echo’s ribs, dropping his arm back to his side as Lyra straightened and nodded to both of them.

“Well I’ll add this to my list of wildly successful introductions,” she said with a self-effacing sarcasm that brought a little grin to Echo’s face. “And I’ll see you both soon, perhaps?”

“At the first self-defense class, right?” Echo said in earnest. “It could be quite useful, you know. Especially hanging out with these types.” He jerked his head in Hunter’s direction. “Although he did get thrown by a girl earlier so maybe it would be unnecessary…”

“Ooohhhh-kay. Thanks Echo. Lyra, you’ve met him. Echo, this is Lyra. Both of you, nice to meet each other… All that... Time to go,” Hunter burst out, having had as much as he could take of Echo’s merciless ribbing. The mischievous brother and Lyra shared a smile and wave as Hunter gently took her by the elbow, steering her back toward The Market, which was almost entirely cleared by that point. “Sorry. He’s an idiot,” he muttered, letting go of her arm quickly as though just realizing he was touching it.

“It’s alright,” she chuckled, “I kinda set him up for that.”

“Yeah,” Hunter agreed, giving her a warm glance before returning his eyes to the path ahead. “He doesn’t need much ammunition to take it and run.”

“He sounds like fun,” she said sincerely. Then, more quietly, “It seems nice to be surrounded by family.” There was a wistfulness to her tone, and a heaviness settled on her shoulders that Hunter wanted to ask about. But her body language was clearly closed, so he didn’t press.

“Most of the time,” he quipped.

They shared a smile, then continued walking toward the business district called The Cobbles, weaving their way through the tall structures of town on the wide paths that zig-zagged down the side of the hill. It was somewhat steep at times, but the locals had built everything cleverly into the side of the land, taking advantage of the gentler slopes and trees to nestle each home and apartment building along the trails. The Town Square wasn’t much higher than The Cobbles, since both made up the relative center of the village, and they were passing the central garden in about fifteen minutes. It was a small, stone-walled community area full of flowers, vegetables, herbs, and a few trees, with a large fountain in the middle that contributed a soothing sound.

Lyra paused at the gate, wrapping both hands around the strap of her bag. Hunter followed suit, glancing at her in curiosity as he’d assumed she’d either join him to his butcher shop or continue past The Cobbles to her cottage.

“I bought some flower bulbs today, mostly for my garden, but I thought a few would be a nice addition here,” she explained.

“Got it,” Hunter nodded, absently running a hand over his dark, tousled hair. He’d left his bandana behind him for the most part, except on occasion, and with Omega’s insistence had sometimes opted for a man bun atop his head, with scattered pieces still falling around his neck and shoulders. “Uhh, you going to the lunar festival?”

“Yeah, for a little while at least. It’s… quite the party…” she said, clearly conveying her distaste. It wasn’t judgmental or dismissive, just an acknowledgment of something they both shared – an aversion to excessively loud, raucous situations with large crowds and lots going on. “You?”

“We’ll all be there.”

“Okay, well if I see you, there’s one particular food stand with goodies from Plata that you absolutely have to try. If you want.”

“Deal.”

She rummaged in her bag, seeking the bulbs she’d mentioned, and it seemed as though neither of them could bring themselves to walk away. Hunter shifted his weight, tucking a hand into his pocket, and then finally took a deep breath, giving her one last smile and nod, and turned toward his shop.

“Oh, Hunter?” she said softly. The way she made his name sound surprised him through and through, sending a wave of warmth and tingles through him with its smoothness and the slight grit in her voice. He swung around to face her again with an inquisitive look.

“Yeah?”

“You got thrown by a girl?” She said it so simply and innocently that he couldn’t help but laugh, rubbing the back of his neck before lifting his eyes to the sky.

“Yeah. The bartender from the tiki bar on the beach… uh… She wanted me to try to attack her, or something… Because Echo was advertising his classes and Crosshair and I were displaying some techniques.. And I… Well, she… She was insisting, and I didn’t…” His increasingly flustered attempt to explain was as frustrating to him as it was adorable to her. “I was trying to be gentle and careful and… well, she wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyra said, lips pressed together somewhere between a smile and a smirk.

“I should have known better,” he admitted dryly.

“Bah,” she shook her head, her usual warm self. “Women can be treacherous.” With a grin and wave, they went their separate ways.

Previous Chapter ~ Master List ~ Next Chapter

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