Chapter Text
Morning light filtered through the tall front windows of Ink Rebel , casting golden rays across polished wood floors and the gleaming metal surfaces of tattoo chairs. Kima had designed this space to be a place of artistry and resilience—a small sanctuary in Emon’s vibrant downtown district. It was her heart and soul, a haven for the weary, the wanderers, and the people searching for meaning in ink and needle.
Kima squinted as she adjusted her tattoo machine, feeling the subtle shift in the shop’s usual energy. Outside, a small crowd gathered, not the usual clients but a mix of fans, photographers, and a few curious strangers hoping for a glimpse of something newsworthy. This was becoming the new normal ever since Allura had dropped that headline in her interview a week ago. Her statement had been simple, even vague: “Yes, I’m engaged to a tattoo artist.” And yet, the city of Emon had erupted with questions, speculation, and theories. Allura’s mystery engagement had taken on a life of its own.
She knew it was inevitable; loving someone as high-profile as Allura came with complications. For years, they’d kept their relationship quiet, tucked away in secret corners of Emon. But with Allura’s pregnancy, everything was changing. Allura was ready to become a mother—and the world was ready to make her private life its front-page story.
“Kima! My dearest, I come bearing gifts!” Gilmore’s unmistakable voice boomed across the shop. He stepped inside with a flair that could turn heads in the busiest of places. In one hand, he held a tray of coffee cups, in the other, a brown bag with the rich, buttery scent of fresh pastries wafting from it. Gilmore was more than the shop’s manager; he was its heartbeat, always knowing when someone needed a word of encouragement or a perfectly timed distraction.
He set the coffee on the front desk and shot a look out the window, raising an arched eyebrow at the onlookers milling about on the sidewalk. “My, my! It appears we have a bit of an audience today. Have we become a tourist attraction overnight?”
Kima rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress a smile. “Seems like it. Ever since Allura let it slip she’s engaged to a ‘tattoo artist,’ we’re apparently the talk of the city. People have theories about who it might be, and Ink Rebel is the obvious place to start digging.”
Gilmore winked, sliding her a coffee. “Emon may be large, darling, but news travels fast. And when it’s about a famous songstress and a mysterious fiancée, well… Let’s just say this is good for business.”
Just then, Grog lumbered in from the back, a massive slab of muscle with a heart as big as his biceps. He gave the group outside a wave, a grin breaking across his face. “Why are they all out there? We giving out free tats today?”
Gilmore chuckled, clapping Grog on the back. “Oh no, dear. Just the usual hubbub. A certain someone may or may not have become the most eligible mystery partner in the city.”
“Ohhh, right. Allura’s thing!” Grog said, scratching his head with a confused look before lighting up. “Wait, that’s kinda fun. Let ‘em try and guess! I could use some excitement around here.”
Kima let out a sigh, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. “I just hope they don’t start coming in here and asking questions. The last thing I need is people thinking they can come in here and interrogate me while I’m working.”
“Oh, Kima, honey, if they do, we’ll take care of it.” Pike’s voice was soft but firm as she appeared from the back room, arms crossed and her no-nonsense attitude radiating in every step. She was both the team’s unofficial nurse and their moral compass, reminding them of why they all did what they did, day after day.
“Thanks, Pike,” Kima murmured. “I mean, I knew what I was getting into when I fell in love with Allura, but…” She trailed off, glancing at the faces outside. It was easy to forget, in the warmth of the shop, that just outside those walls were people who would do anything for a piece of their lives.
“We all know how much she means to you,” Pike said, resting a reassuring hand on Kima’s shoulder. “You two are worth every bit of this. And hey, if it gets too much, you’ve got us here to help.”
As Kima looked around at her friends, she felt a surge of gratitude. They were her family, bound not by blood but by loyalty and countless hours spent crafting art together. Each of them had their own reasons for being here, their own stories of struggle and resilience. Together, they formed the heart of Ink Rebel —a place where people could come as they were, whether scarred or whole, and leave feeling understood.
Across the room, Scanlan was already tapping away on his phone, no doubt planning some clever social media post to deflect the attention. He glanced up, smirking. “You know, I could throw them off with a little smoke and mirrors,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Make ‘em think the tattoo artist is someone else entirely. Maybe I’ll tell them it’s Grog.”
Grog’s eyes widened, and he let out a booming laugh. “Oh yeah! Tell ‘em I’m engaged to Allura. That’ll be funny!”
Kima couldn’t help but laugh, despite the knots in her stomach. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”
Just then, the shop door opened, and a young woman stepped in, clutching a rolled-up magazine with trembling hands. Kima recognized it instantly—the current issue of Emon Weekly , Allura’s face gracing the cover, radiant and beautiful with that knowing smile that always made Kima’s heart skip.
The young woman looked around, taking in the curious gazes of Kima’s friends, and gave a shy smile. “Um, hi. I have an appointment?”
Kima’s demeanor softened as she approached the girl, motioning for her to take a seat. “Right on time,” she said, offering a reassuring smile. “What are we working on today?”
The girl unrolled the magazine, flipping it open to reveal a carefully folded sketch inside. “I was thinking… a compass, with waves around it. For my sister. She’s… well, she’s my guide. Always has been.”
Kima studied the drawing, a delicate, elegant design that spoke to the bond between siblings. She nodded, letting her mind settle into the familiar rhythm of her craft. “This is beautiful. Let’s make it perfect for her.”
As she prepped her machine and began working, the sounds of the shop melted into the background. She could hear Scanlan chatting with Pike, could feel Gilmore’s watchful gaze over her shoulder, and even Grog’s occasional laugh from the back. For a moment, Kima found peace in the hum of the needle and the quiet concentration it demanded.
The crowd outside, the rumors, the questions—all of it faded as she focused on the small, precise lines. This was her world, her art, the part of herself that nobody else could touch. Here, she could pour herself into her work, carving meaning into the lives of her clients one ink stroke at a time.
Hours passed in a blur, the compass taking shape under Kima’s steady hand. When she finally finished, the young woman looked at her tattoo in the mirror, her eyes bright with gratitude. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Kima.”
Kima smiled, feeling a swell of pride as she watched the girl admire the work. “Glad you like it. Make sure to take good care of it while it heals.”
As the girl left, Kima felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out, her heart leaping when she saw the name on the screen.
Allie: Thinking of you. It’s been a madhouse here today, but I can’t wait to see you tonight. Let me know if you’re up for a quiet dinner at my place?
Kima’s face softened, her fingers moving quickly as she typed her reply.
Kima: Wouldn’t miss it. It’s a date.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, savoring the thrill that came with knowing she’d soon be in Allura’s arms. The world could clamor for answers all it wanted; right now, she had her own small corner of peace to look forward to.
Across the room, Scanlan’s voice broke through her reverie. “Text from the lady of the hour?”
Kima shot him a look, her lips curving in a small smile. “Might be. But if you think you’re getting any details out of me, you’re out of luck.”
Scanlan winked. “Fair enough. Just remember, the more mysterious you are, the more they’re gonna want to know.”
Kima shrugged, casting a glance at the crowd still hovering outside. Let them wonder, she thought. She knew who she was, and she knew where she belonged—in this shop, surrounded by friends, and with Allura. And for now, that was enough.
As she glanced at the setting sun, she knew tomorrow would come with more questions, more whispers. But tonight, she had a date with the woman she loved, and that was all that mattered.