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preromantics · 6 months

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wip clearing 2: peter/tony post-nwh stripper!peter

continuing my 'this one isn't going to get written' clearing!

context: this really couldn't be done justice at less than like 20k words the way i had it outlined and i didn't have the attention span for that

under the cut: a mismash 1.4k of plot dump and a few more fleshed out bits. not really fic-like but dumping here anyway for the jist!

Peter needs easy cash and all the under the table jobs he’s been getting aren’t cutting it (pizza delivery, irregular odd jobs like helping people move) and he stumbles into being a stripper at a slighty-above-seedy club – the kind that pays him under the table because he just keeps what he gets during dances but the kind that also has a pretty good bouncer out front, so the clientele isn’t the worst.

Turns out everything the bite enhanced wasn’t just good for being a friendly neighborhood superhero: it makes him a pretty amazing stripper. He picks up the pole work like he did swinging from buildings; a little practice, a few face plants and awkward moments, and then it’s as easy as anything else.

Just like in this new version of his life where no one knows him, he’s anonymous at the club. Just like Spider-Man, he also tends to attract a crowd.

(“Do a flip!” someone shouts one night, with Peter at the top of the pole, arched back and hanging on by one hand, every muscle taught and the lines of his body on display. And Peter smiles, beatific, and flips backwards off the pole, two rotations in the air before he’s landing at the edge of the stage. It’s a record night, his tight lamé briefs stuffed with cash sticking to his sweat-slick hips and the curve of his ass.)

It becomes easy. Patrolling in the early evening and sometimes after his shifts, glitter and smoke under his suit but the adrenaline of a good night keeping him awake and alert. The water-stained drop ceiling above Peter’s closet in his shitty apartment ends up stuffed with cash in ziploc bags.

It’s still easy, even, when the news breaks that Mr. Stark is back. The details aren’t public knowledge, and Peter longs to know how it happens, but what matters is something is now right in the world again – even if no one knows Peter, still, he feels lighter after hearing the news.

He doesn’t seek out Mr. Stark, assuming he also has no recollection of Peter Parker, and if Peter keeps an eye out for a glint of red and gold while he’s patrolling, it’s just to see if Mr. Stark at least remembers Spider-Man. (He never sees the suit, so it doesn’t matter. In fact, even with Mr. Stark back, there are no reports on Iron Man at all anymore.)

Peter has settled into his new normal, over a year into his stripper gig, and now on stage at a much nicer, fancier club (that still agreed to keep him off payroll if he gave a bigger cut to the house). It’s a few months since Tony Stark rejoined the living, Peter’s passed his GED but hasn’t sent in any applications, the cash he’s been saving up growing each week and starting to weigh on him.

It’s early in the night, and no one notices when Peter slips into the dressing room ten minutes late to his shift. This club is less likely to hand waive lateness, Peter knows – a condition of his under the table employment here was showing up when scheduled and a bigger cut of tips to the house than the other dancers.

The clientele, location, the drinks – basically everything is better than the first place Peter started stripping at last year, though, so the extra percentage at the end of the night and ability to hand waive the background check that would flag Peter as a ghost make it worth it. He’s really trying to not be late, to cut his pre-shift patrols off earlier so he doesn’t jeopardize his quote-un-quote employment.

Some nights, though, the city just seems to want to hold on to Spider-Man from block to block.

Peter has his face close to the mirror, working with some green and yellow color correctors the way one of the girls at the old club taught him to hide the bruise blossoming on his lower jaw. By the end of the night it will be barely visible, anyway, between his healing factor and the way the club gets darker and the clientele gets tipsier, looking at Peter with glassy eyes.

He’s almost done buffing everything out with concealer over the top and already reaching for a pot of subtle glitter from his backpack when one of the new girls (Amber, maybe? Peter keeps meaning to get better at the social part of this new place) bursts into the room with a high-pitched squeal.

“Tony Stark is here!” she says, her eyes wide. Peter meets them through the mirror, hands stilling. “Like, actually him. I saw him putting a black lacy mask on at the door.”

Peter’s first thought is that he should leave. He should definitely leave, fake a stomach bug or something. There are six of them in the small dressing room, all in various states of getting ready for the night ahead, but every person stops what they’re doing, and the room becomes so loud all at once that Peter stays frozen, now staring down his own reflection.

It’s been three months since the PR whirlstorm that surrounded Mr. Stark’s resurrection.

He’s with Rhody. Peter waivers on if he’ll cut out or stay. He ends up staying. It’s masquerade night. They hand out fancy masks at the door and the dancers have masks, so it feels a little more comfortable than it should, hiding behind a mask. He doesn’t think Tony knows who he is, anyway, since no one remembers Peter Parker – why would Mr. Stark be any different. He ends up doing a back room with a nice co-worker named Amber. It’s all above board at this club (for the most part) and the back rooms have their own pole, good lighting, and luxurious leather couches. “They requested a guy and a girl, and you’re our best guy, c’mon, Pete,” Amber says, with wide eyes that absolutely work. Peter suddenly understands why Amber gets the most private rooms. Peter loses himself to the backroom, to the touches, the music, seeing the crinkled eyes of his mentor up close again for the first time in years.

Are you going to tell me why you’re working in a strip club yet, Peter Parker? Tony whispers at the end of the dance.

Peter bolts.

When he thinks about it, he’s not even sure anything about his life will change, at this point, if one person (Tonytonytony his brain says) remembers who he is – and after a (scheduled) day off it’s time for another shift. He’s wavering on showing up for his next shift, or risk losing his job (that he likes, thank you) but ultimately shows up.

Tony is there waiting – had he come the day before, too? Asked about Peter? Sat around just watching, waiting? Had he asked someone else for a dance? – and Peter bravely faces him.

They end up in a room, again, this time with the awareness that they know each other.

“I honestly have no idea where to start, Mr. Stark.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “I did pay for a private dance, so you could start with that as the warm up to the big reveal,” he says, and Peter feels his mouth part in shock.

The timing is perfect: the queued up song starts before Peter can say anything, a bass-heavy track with no lyrics, and Peter does an instinctive spin on the pole while trying to sort out the mess in his head.

“I was kidding,” Tony says, with a small amount of panic in his eyes.

Peter stops his next spin, staggering against the pole. Right. That would make so much more sense. “Oh,” he says, dumbly.

(They talk on the couch. Peter ends up spilling everything about what has happened. Tony grips him tight, petting the back of his hair in what Peter assumes is only meant to be comforting, but in a way that makes Peter too aware of the fact he’s wearing a thong and covered in glitter that’s now coating Tony’s immaculately tailored suit, too aware of how comforting this is anyway, how warm Tony is. He’s crying, and his hair is a little wet, so he thinks Tony might be, too.)

After a lot of miscommunication, the reestablishment of Peter Parker's identity, sans the public unmasking, and a professional amount of distance…

Peter kind of misses stripping. Not the money (which was good, but his reinstated trust fund from Tony's non-applicable will is better), but the physicality of it. The intimacy within the anonimity. The way it made his pulse beat harder and his body feel powerful in new ways.

Tony has a stripper pole on the private jet – the only aircraft from his old possessions that wasn't sold off. He and Peter are taking it somewhere and the pole is the elephant in the room.

So... Peter puts on a show. :)

#starker #not a fic #december wip amnesty/clearing

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eljeebee · 11 months

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We Go Way Back

Good thing Elizabeth knew the weather conditions in San Myshuno! It's a lot more chilly than in San Sequoia, and her wardrobe is ready! Before she went inside the karaoke bar, Planet Honey Pop!, she grabbed some bahn mi from the kiosks.

Yeah, it's day, and she should go to karaoke bars at night, but day is the only time she gets out when her neice is not around. And hey, they're open, and would get bar-goers too at this time. Maybe it's a San Myshuno thing? Then again, the atmosphere of the bar is funky dark, so it fits what she wants. Maybe when the time comes, she'd be able to experience bars at nighttime.

Patrons of the karaoke bar applauded Elizabeth's performance with the karaoke machine! The bartender gave her drinks on the house if she would take the patrons' song requests, which she did! Elizabeth has been uptight ever since she went to live in Henford-On-Bagley after her family's...tragedy...but this is the first time she gets to relax and let loose.

Elizabeth get to drink a lot of Ridgeports — the same amount of times she went to the bathroom. On her seventh Ridgeport, and on her way to sing again with another patron (she agreed to duet for a Simsmapolitan), she caught a glimpse of a man dressed in crimson, sitting in the couches by the bar.

She paid him no mind, placing back the empty glass of Ridgeport atop the bar, and stumbled to the stage.

The man on the couch looked around, before leaving his seat and taking a stool by the bar. He ordered a plasma jane, and watched Elizabeth and her partner sing their hearts out.

"This is the first time the bar has gotten this loud, and it's not even night yet," the bartender said, sliding a glass of plasma jane. The man in crimson caught it, nodding. "Seriously, that girl is a star."

The man huffed while smiling slightly, taking a sip. He nodded at the man who sat beside him before turning around his stool where he sat to watch the performance.

He watched for a while, taking his drink slowly. When the performance was near the end, he faced the bar again, just in time to see the bartender preparing the Simsmapolitan for Elizabeth. He took a glance around him — they had their attention to the singing. He watched the bartender finished mixing the drink. He brought his glass to his lips; the bartender poured it on a martini glass. A finger subtly lifted from the bar top; he took a sip. A subtle violet cloud surrounded the drink. No one saw it. But he did. Because he made it. He casted a spell on the drink.

He placed his glass down, getting his wallet from his pants and paid the bartender — tip included. "Thanks. Oh, and tell that blonde lady to come see me after she drinks that Simsmapolitan."

The bartender raised a brow. "Do you know her sir?"

"We go way back," he gave him a toothy smile. He's using his charm. "Our families go way back."

The bartender eased, giving him a smile. "Of course, sir."

The man nodded, leaving the stool and returning to his couch.

Elizabeth giggled when her duet partner patted her on her back on the way to the bar. The people around them clapped as they walked.

"One Simsmapolitan for the lady who sings!" The bartender said.

"Thank you!" Elizabeth slid on a stool. She took a sip of her drink.

She was taken a back when she gulped the liquid down. She has been a little hazy for drinking Ridgeports, and she should get more drunk with Simsmapolitan, but this specific Simsmapolitan made her head clear — sober.

"Something wrong?" The bartender asked when they noticed Elizabeth's twisted face.

"No...no, no. This is good!" She smiled awkwardly, gulping down the whole drink.

"Slow down there, lady," they laughed. "By the way, that man over there?"

"Where?" Elizabeth sat up straight and focused her line of sight where they pointed. The man who she caught a glimpse was still there on the couch by the restrooms. He has his attention elsewhere. "Oh, him?"

"Yeah," they nodded. "Said he wanted to talk to you."

"Why?"

Just then, he looked straight at her. He gave her a smirk, teeth protruding. Wait. Not just any teeth. Fangs. Elizabeth's face slightly paled. But she can't look away, nor can bolt from her stool and run. She forced to look away anyway, smiling tightly at the bartender.

"Thanks for the Ridgeports. And the 'politan," she paid her tab.

She left her seat, and was about to dash to the exit when another person went up to her saying, "Going for another round of karaoke?"

"Oh, haha! No, no! I think that's enough singing and Ridgeports," Elizabeth side-stepped, awkwardly laughing.

The door was just there. There. She briskly walked to the exit.

Stop.

And she stopped, stood there, at the middle of the karaoke bar. People around her didn't seem to notice her blocking their way, just walked around her as if she wasn't there.

Come, we need to talk.

She bit her lip. Her body turned her around, and mindlessly walked to the couch.

There, she stood in front of the man in crimson.

"I know what you are," she said, her voice trembling a little bit, and a little loud. But it doesn't matter, someone else was singing again. "You're one of them, aren't you? One of the vampires."

"So you still remember us," he said, nodding. He motioned her to sit, "Sit down. We have something to talk about."

Her eyebrows knit in concentration. She's trying to disobey.

"Elizabeth, it's amazing you can withstand mind control but you don't need to," he sighed. "We can do mental training on another time, we really need to talk."

"How do you know my name?" She frowned.

"We have a history, remember? Now, sit," he said, firmly.

Elizabeth tried to fight it, then groaned. She allowed herself to sit on the other couch.

"Don't worry," he smiled. "We're just here to talk, nothing more."

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 gameplay #simblr #The Davis'#Side: Swanson & Harper

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snowmaniaph · 1 year

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Kirakira!: Abe Ryohei

[People you think are sparkling]

It’s not a person, but Gachapin! Gachapin is amazing! Really! It can do anything, and it remains as itself whenever and wherever it is. I appeared in Live News Itto! the other day with Gachapin and even went to a location to shoot. Gachapin is already very popular so all the people who went to town were very happy to see Gachapin. It was waving its hands to people even when the cameras weren’t rolling. I saw that and thought “Gachapin is the very image of an idol!”! Aside from that, Gachapin even danced Brother Beat perfectly and was adlibbing during a live stream to follow me up. Rather than saying Gachapin is sparkling, it feels more like: "This is what an idol should be!” I want to work with my super senpai Gachapin again.

[Sparkling skill]

I make sure I get a lot of sleep on the day before a live performance. Kind of like how if I don’t charge myself properly then I won’t be able to emit light. As expected, it’s important to make sure that my physical condition is in tip-top shape so that my eyes shine bright (on stage). On that note, Naniwa Danshi’s Ryuche (Onishi Ryusei) is amazing! It really looks like he has stars in his eyes (laughs)! His eyes are really shining, and he’s cute! He really seems like an idol from his core! Of course, he is active in his group but he is also doing solo activities like acting in dramas which makes me think “He is shining as always~”. ... Ah, I’m supposed to talk about a skill that makes me shine (laughs). Maybe it’s enjoying everything? I feel like I sparkle when I instinctively enjoy something.

[An episode where you weren’t sparkling]

When I appeared at variety shows, there are times when I did what I thought would be good for the show but it ended up backfiring! When that happens, I go home and be like “Haaa~”. But I sleep before doing a self-review of what I did (laughs). That’s because I suddenly get ideas after waking up in the morning like “Uwaah, I should have done this yesterday!”. And I want to make use of that insight next time! Variety is really hard. There is probably nothing to get used to (because variety is unpredictable/ has no script).

[A view you admire and want to see someday]

Aurora. It’s because I’m a weather forecaster. Even if I say that; the aurora is in a higher class than that of a weather forecaster (laughs). But I’m very interested in it as a phenomenon in the sky, that’s why I really want to see it! Moreover, just being able to see the aurora is a rare occurrence. I will say “I want to see it!” in a lot of interviews and increase my chances of seeing the aurora (laughs).

Source: Wink Up 09/2022

#snowman #snow man #abe ryohei #ryohei abe #translations #johnnys #gachapin #onishi ryusei #ryusei onishi #ryuche #naniwa danshi

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klavsenkearns33 · 3 months

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homefast261 · 1 year

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mikeanzivino · 1 year

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asia-ustaad · 2 years

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During The Revision Phase Of An Argumentative Essay Author Should Give Consideration To

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#ESSAY #WRITTING

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otakuradiance97 · 7 years

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You can't tell me they're not the same

#dragon ball #dragon ball spoilers #dragon ball super #dbs #ep. 95 #zeno #zen oh #brought to you by kittens #he's just seeing if the stage is in tip top condition #that's actually me rolling around out of emotional turmoil #something so small is the most dangerous

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x-amount-verbs · 2 years

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Okay so I’m super hyped about this piece that has developed into a full on collab with @astudyincontrasts (a parallel collab? that feels like it should be a term), inspired by @aromansoul ’s artwork. If you missed some amazing pieces, study’s first and second one shots are both hits (hehe), and— the artwork! The original was excellent; the newest is my new lock screen. I am straight up honored to steal plot ideas from these two :3

Zaun Underground Champion (2/3)

[silco x gn!reader*] [sfw] [boxer!silco] [part 2 of 3; longer] [2.3k words] [pt 1 here]

*same potentially-gendered pejorative, again: I read it as neutral, but to each their own

He did end up taking you up on it, eventually.

You had been slammed earlier in the night, with wharfside being flooded with sailors from a whole slew of trading vessels all offloading at the same time, making the usual crew from the docks migrate lower into the city. One long miserable shift full of the coarsest bastards imaginable, picking fights and shouting slurred insults, their tips rarely enough to justify the trouble they caused.

To be honest: it wasn’t much worse than usual, just more crowded.

Things wound down enough to soft close, turning the sign off and stopping to clean the worst of the blood and beer off the floor, and haul empty bottles to the back. When you heard a stool scraping over the boards, you ducked out to the front again. And there he was.

You let out a low whistle, staring at his good eye— which no longer looked quite so good. “Hell of a shiner.”

Every time you’d seen him he was banged up, so you honestly couldn’t tell if his current condition was from an organized fight, or just one he picked up in his spare time.

The thin blade of a grimace he offered in response suited him: hard-lined and deadly. And just a touch bitter. “You promised a free drink,” he reminded you, running a finger back and forth over the bar, short nail tracing a gouge from a previous customer.

“I did,” you agreed, straightening the unadorned apron you wore around your waist, and approaching his spot at the counter. You were almost surprised he showed. “So what’ll it be?”

The Eye’s signature feature apparently could see well enough to know just where to look for the good shit, even if the blue eye was swollen partway closed. Top shelf, wandering along bottles until he spotted a gilded label. He didn’t even lift the hand, just flicked his finger that direction. “Gimme the Pilties’ top tier. Might as well.”

“Expensive tastes,” you observed as you turned to retrieve the bottle he’d indicated, not sure if you should feel surprised. It wasn’t like you knew anything about the man; you’d only ever seen him fight.

A short amused breath came from the bar even as you focused your attention on the bottle. “One day, maybe,” he murmured. “For now it’s dirt cheap cigarettes and the piss swill that comes free, if it’s offered.”

Your own dry laugh came in response. “Should I be insulted?”

“Not here.” It was reassurance without sounding like he was trying. Too relaxed and too distanced to actually be apologizing. “The venues that offer drinks for the ‘entertainment.’ Assuming you can drink without a straw.”

Bringing the glass and bottle to his spot, you tipped out a couple fingers of the expensive whiskey. “Not the best choice post-fight,” you observed.

He didn’t take the drink. Just looked down at the glass, then back up. The slightest pull of his lips nearly formed a mocking pout. Not dramatic, just disappointed.

With a wry twist to your own mouth, you doubled the pour. “Charming,” you deadpanned.

“Hm, exactly what I’m known for,” he drawled, “with this gorgeous face, I simply ooze it.” You didn’t argue his point, with the mottled purple-green-yellow of bruising at various stages of recovery across his face. You could see something oozing from that face in the last couple months, surely, after one fight or another. He didn’t expect you to defend him, apparently. Just took a sip and nodded his approval.

If you left the bottle down, you had a feeling you’d end up losing even more revenue offering a refill. As your back was turned again, however, you heard a familiar shk shk clicking. By the time the bottle was put away, the Eye of Zaun had his cigarette lit.

Lips tightened, watching the cherry glow of the cigarette, well aware that smoking wasn’t technically permitted outside the booths— but also knowing he wasn’t the first to break that particular rule. The bar top itself held evidence to the contrary: a couple worn-in divots from patrons with shit manners stubbing out their smokes.

Eyes flicking up to his, you found him watching you carefully. Fingers pinched the filter and pulled it away, stare even. “Don’t tell me to put it out, sweetheart.” A request, not a demand. “These are a step up from dirt; I don’t know the next time I’ll be able to afford them.”

You held off on the rules, simply grabbing a spare ashtray from below the counter. Setting it in front of him, you debated speaking, but he was watching you expectantly. He already knew you wanted to say something; no need to hold your tongue.

“So you got mugged?” It was hard to believe.

The Eye took another puff, his other hand sliding a thumb around the curve of his glass. That grim amusement hadn’t left. “Not in quite those terms.”

But not denying it either. “I wouldn’t want to see the other guy.”

The sharp exhale came with a lift to his lips as the man closed his swollen eye and took a sip. Savoring. “Hm.”

You could sense a touch of contempt. Presumably for whoever did this, though maybe it was self-directed. Maybe even directed at you; it wasn’t like you had any expectation of friendship. You were just the hand on the drip, offering salvation at the bottom of a bottle.

You didn’t ask for elaboration, but when you were still there even after he opened his eye again, the man sighed out a loose breath.

“How much can you be bought for?”

Your brows rose, but you didn’t react very strongly at all. It didn’t feel like a proposition, just a question. “Depends,” you answered honestly.

The Eye shot a sidelong glance over the rim of his glass, but didn’t clarify. Still, you highly doubted this was asking for a night in your bed. And it was entirely theoretical, whatever he was asking.

“I thought you just said you were broke.”

A chipped tooth peeked through the slight part of his lips as he hid his smirk in another sip. “Morally bankrupt, perhaps.”

Weighing his silence, his condition, and the pitiless fog of smoke swimming around him, you attempted to add up the pieces. “…You threw a fight.” It was a guess, worded as a statement. Not an accusation, either.

Regardless of your intention, the man grimaced. Took another puff. Teeth bared, he let the exhale go until his chest was practically concave.

“You need more than one drink.”

“Can’t afford it.”

“Shitty payout, then.”

After the next sip, he held the cool of the glass to his cheek for a moment, shooting you a look. The acerbic press of a smile that held only irony. “Payout’s fine. But it’s not for me.”

Curiosity piqued, you examined his face again, and he only watched you do it. He wasn’t hiding anything— at least not in the shifty, shady way you usually saw in these parts. The look in that swollen eye was almost challenging: intrigued to see what you’d read on him.

His eyes stayed on you as he took another drag, blindly ashing his smoke on the rim of the tray.

“Debts?” you guessed.

The short noncommittal “hn,” seemed to hint at not quite. The way he looked at you felt like a test.

Lips pursed as you considered what you knew of him. Which was, in all honesty, next to nothing. What you’d seen in the ring, mostly: observant, patient, keen— but absolutely brutal once things kicked up. A slow burn in an easy fight, ratcheting up to manic fervor in a few choice instances you’d witnessed, with the cross-class fights as he’d moved up. Smaller stature but assured enough to take on larger opponents regularly. Bloodthirsty if backed into a corner.

And outside of the ring: private, not wanting to be disturbed. Reluctant to take you up on a free drink. Not exactly rolling in cash, but not keen to spend it, either, if he was used to buying cheap. A sense of humor so dry it could soak up half the River Pilt. And feeling conflicted over opting to throw a fight for a payout. Calling himself morally bankrupt for it, even in jest.

…On second thought, you’d learned a good deal about the Eye from your first brief meeting until now.

Your silent consideration had his full attention. Intrigued, maybe, though with a sharp edge to it that veered toward suspicion.

So not quite debts.

“…Family’s debts?” Not for himself, but someone else. It was just the feeling you were getting from him: typical Undercity cynicism, feeling half-tricked for helping someone in need. Like he expected to be cheated, but knew it was inevitable.

The minuscule tightening of lips on his cigarette was immediately followed by breaking eye contact to ash again. Close.

“Friends.” The brief flick of eyes up to yours said you were on the right track. “Friends’ debts.”

Another sip, though you thought you spotted a hint of curve to his lips before he did so. You may have been enjoying it as well, even if the topic was dour.

So something like a friend’s debt. “Bail?”

The slight crinkle at the corner of his good eye confirmed it. (Though that assumed you were reading him correctly.)

You took a moment to process that revelation. Paying a friend’s bail, by throwing a fight for a payout. Interesting.

Maybe someone topside would instinctively ask what they did to get thrown in jail. Instead, you asked, “Who did they piss off?”

A short huff of laughter was all you got, before he took another drag and watched you again. Calculating. For a brief moment you felt like an opponent in the ring, like he was measuring you up, evaluating your threat level.

Then he sighed out his smoke, and ashed again. “You assume they’re innocent?”

This was stupid. The man’s eye was darkening by the second. You ducked beneath the bar, grabbing a second glass to fill with straight ice. Offering it over, you added, “I assume, if you’re having to scrape together bail, someone with pull doesn’t want them out making trouble.”

The man eyed the ice skeptically, but after another sip of his drink he swapped out, pressing the chilled glass to the edge of his swelling eye. There was no confirmation or denial, though the way his gaze fell to his smoke, and the brief roll of a filter between his fingers, implied some kind of thought process you weren’t privy to.

As the silence drew out, you twirled your bar mop where it flagged out of your apron. With the Eye’s attention averted for the moment, you indulged a bit in examining him.

The shiner was the most prominent damage, but it was far from the only hit he’d taken in the last week or so. His knuckles were ruddy, though you suspected that was a constant presence for him, as was the split lip. The mottled coloring on his sharp nose could’ve contributed to the eye swelling as well. The yellowed cheek from a still-healing bruise.

Beyond that, though… surprisingly put together. Surprisingly clothed, compared to how you usually saw him, honestly. A dark jacket, crisp-shouldered even if some loosened seams marked plenty of wear, with a hood left down within the bar. Beneath it, a dark you thought could be red, but could be brown - or something in between - and the first thing that came to mind was probably hides blood easy. Though there was something markedly professional about his day clothes; he didn’t look like he’d been drawing much blood in them. Not unless he had to.

The ice set down and the whiskey went up, and when you followed the movement you found his gaze on you. Another sip, savoring, holding off on finishing the glass.

Something about the hint of amusement there gave you confidence. Bluntly, you extended your arm across the bar and introduced yourself.

The Eye took a long final drag of his cigarette and put it out, politely streaming the smoke down and away before grasping your forearm and you his. “Silco.”

“Nice to meet you, Silco.” Glibly, you added, “—Sorry about your face.”

Lips split to a wry smirk. “And here I was told some might find it dashing.”

“Not everyone shares my bizarre tastes.”

The next laugh sounded closer to real, though still subdued, followed by a sardonic, “My thoughts exactly.”

As small as the moment was, it felt like success. Getting the Eye to make any noise beyond that low hum - that seemed to serve every meaning between contemplative and judgmental - felt like success. But it was quickly followed by a twinge of guilty disappointment as the man finished his drink.

Smoke done, drink done, there was nothing left to keep him there, and you were supposedly closed. Management wouldn’t take kindly to you doling out more free booze. He seemed to realize the same thing, though it was hard to read any feelings on the matter as he swirled the glass one last time before sliding it back toward you.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” you offered as you took it. The quizzical narrowing of his swollen eye prompted you to clarify. “Helping your friend. This city wouldn’t work if we didn’t look out for each other.”

That ironic press of lips as he stood; more hidden stories you couldn’t know. He redirected from that mystery with a pithy, “Is that an offer for another drink?”

Fuck it. “Sure.”

A momentary lift of brows said he hadn’t fully expected that.

“Not tonight, though. Some other time.”

“Some other time,” he verified with a polite incline of his chin. More polite than you ever would’ve expected after seeing him in the ring.

He was halfway to the door when you added, “Good luck with your friend.”

A short huff of breath signaled a laugh as he left, but you thought you might’ve heard something like, “I just might need it.”

—

[Insert my usual standard, requesting that you boost if you liked it, and explaining how I have a chronic deficiency of writer juice but you can provide me enough for twelve hours of work with just one (1) reaction left on the post or in your tags. Every bit helps 😔🙏 ❤️-verbs]

#silco x reader #silco x gn!reader #boxer!silco #silco arcane #silco #silco/reader #Zaun underground champion #wip:zaun underground champion #x-amount-writes #boxer au

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youarejesting · 2 years

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Wings Unfolded

Rating: All (mentions of death) Pairing: Ryu Minhyuk and friends Genre: Drama, Mystery, Magic. Words: 1.7k Summary: Minhyuk finds out his magic is real when he makes his friend disappear. Suspected for her disappearance, he manages to go free. Knowing she is safe they live happily together until some meddling teens create new wounds for Minhyuk. AKA The life of Bella.

Arabella Read was my desk mate. Her family moved to South Korea many years ago, her father got a well-paid job and they lived comfortably. Her family was large, she had four siblings each older than herself, and because of this, she had no real expectations of her life. Though she was relieved from the stress of good grades and getting into college, she still tried her best. She just had the luxury to have a little more fun than most of the students.

It was odd coming from a family with different ideals, especially me her desk mate Ryu Min-Hyuk. I was such a studious kid but I was honestly miserable. She had recently learned a few sleight-of-hand magic tricks from her father and she made sure to show them to me whenever she could. In those short seconds, it was like I could forget about the exams and books and genuinely have a good time.

She would playfully pester, but I grew more and more unsettled as the days went on. It was hard to smile when my head was filled with worries. Her family caused quite the commotion, her father’s red hair, had been passed down to all of his children. I had noticed she had been previously bullied, but she never let it worry her.

I sat alone in the hospital bed my legs curled up to my chest, and I heard her step into the room. Her bag had a distinct jingle of keyrings that gave her away before her flaming red hair came into view. “Min-Hyuk?”

I turned to her, my eyes landing on her small form in the doorway and she smiled softly in return. She seemed unable to make a coherent sentence that expressed her care and concern for my condition. Perhaps she was worried that I would think she was pitying me. She stayed silent and cut fresh fruit. I saw the lights of the amusement park illuminate the afternoon sky, the top of the Ferris wheel was just in view from the window.

“Do you want to go to the amusement park?” she questioned, “My mum gets free admission because of her food stall, I can get us in if you want?”

My eyes met hers but I didn’t say a word, “Would you like to see a magic trick?” she asked with a raise of my brow. I watched her shuffle a pack of cards showing me the trick and I felt my lips pulled up in a small smile.”You can have the pack of cards if you like, and you can learn some tricks while you are in the hospital, my dad always says the real magic happens when the audience smile.”

“If you can make them believe…” She held out her hand and with a swish, she was holding a small flower, “then the magic will come to life”

I smiled taking the flower and watching her as she packed up the extra fruit into a small container and placed it beside my bed. She watched me play with the pack of cards, giving pointers and tips. She stopped by a few times and dropped off books on magic and more and I was lost in a world that truly called to me. She told me she would happily be my assistant and stand by my side on the stage. It made me happy to have her support.

As time went on the tricks and sleight-of-hand became something more, it was somewhere between the mix of books and the bump to my head. The magic I performed was different, I couldn’t control it completely. It wasn’t something I could command, but on special occasions, the magic words would make everything come to life.

I dropped out of school and spent my days at the amusement park. It was the night after one of our shows, I was wearing my black and white suit with a big red bowtie and she was wearing a red sequin dress that matched her crimson hair.

We were practicing a vanishing act, except when I said the words “Annara Sumanara” they felt heavy.

—

“You are under arrest for the suspicion of Arabella Read’s disappearance, if you could come with us, sir?” The policeman cuffed me, dragging me out of the theme park past all the children making a scene. I was painted to be a bad guy.

“You were the last person to see her, can you tell us about that night?” The officer questioned

“We were performing on the stage and as we finished we spent the evening trying a new routine,” I said softly rubbing my wrists where the metal cuffs were digging into my flesh.

“We found these in your change room, this is the dress she was wearing the night of her disappearance, can you tell me how they got in your change room.” The officer asked pressing with pictures and pieces of clothing.

“We share a change room, we are one act, so we take turns getting dressed.” I explained, “I didn’t do anything, she isn’t missing. It was a vanishing trick, I was supposed to make her disappear and when I said the words she was gone and I couldn’t find her, I promise you I have no idea where she went. Look at the footage, the whole place has surveillance if she leaves the theatre then you will see where she goes. Otherwise, she is still inside the theatre somewhere.”

“Then where is she, hiding under a sheet, in a box waiting for you to say the magic words?”

“I didn’t do anything.” My words were meek, but I was let free, the park was inspected but there was no sign of Arabella Read. The park was shut down due to the rumors and I had nowhere to go, so I made a home in the theatre.

—

The small music box Ferris wheel was spinning filling the room with a delicate tune, while I was changing my shirt. She gave a few audible kisses and a catcall catching my attention and I turned to face her.

“Ri-Eul, does it hurt?” She asked looking towards my shoulder, the scar was old and silvery against my skin.

“It doesn’t” I smiled reassuringly, it wouldn’t be good to have her fret over such an old wound. I took another shirt and she spoke again.

“Ri-Eul is in pain,” she repeated her voice concentrating on her words.

“Don’t worry. It really doesn’t hurt at all.” I grabbed my shoulder feeling the slight raise of the scar tissue, “It’s just a small remnant of a very old memory.”

I pulled on my shirt quickly, so she wouldn’t have to look at the old injury and buttoned up the shirt quickly.

—

I returned to her calling for me, I walked around the table and saw that meddlesome teenage girl Baek Hana hiding behind the table. I turned on my light and she screamed before collecting herself.

“What is it now?” I asked annoyed that she had broken into my home again. She told me it was because she was interested in me and my magic, but I could see the lies in her eyes. I wasn’t in the mood so I told her to “Come again later.”

Her words got on my nerves and I was unable to stop myself from asking, “Is it really my magic you are interested in, sneaking and peeping around-” There on her lapel was a small camera flashing at me, she was recording. I went to grab the camera and she moved.

“Actually, I am not that interested in magic. Plus if I really was interested I would pay to watch it in a theatre. Why would I come here?” When I pressed for her true reason for entering my home she replied with something I wasn’t expecting. “To get evidence. I thought I should let others know what is going on, in a place like this.”

She showed the video of the old man who had harassed Ah-Yi and in the video, it looked like I was trying to kill him. She began demanding answers, but the final straw was when she said my magic wasn’t real.

“I don’t care if you think I am totally crazy, but my magic?” I hissed clutching her wrist wanting to drag her from my home, so I could finally be in peace. I hadn’t made my best friend vanish with fake magic, I don’t make things come alive with tricks. “My magic is real.”

She threatened me with the footage and when I went to grab it she bumped into the heavy ornate cage on the table. The cage toppled over and the wooden branch inside fell crushing Arabella who had hit her head hard against the top of the cage. Her small body was struggling against the heavy wood her small cries were weak and strained.

In a thoughtless rage, I grabbed Baek Hana by the throat wanting her to feel the same pain as my Bella, but another cry had me letting go and rushing to Bella’s side. I was trying to pull the cage door open but it was jammed in, I tried to shake it free, tried to hit and claw at the cage to free Arabella from her suffering.

“Bella!” My tears were flowing as I struggled and finally, the door came free. I held her in my arms and placed her in a small bed. She must be in shock, but a part of me knew that she was dying.

—

“The police are looking for you, you have to hide someplace else.” Yoon Ah-Yi said softly

“My Bella is very sick right now.” I replied trying to control the shaking in my voice as I looked down at my longest friend “There was just a little accident.”

“I can take her to the hospital, but you have to go somewhere else.” Yoon Ah-Yi began but my tears were unable to stop.

“Bella, are you okay?” I sniffled trying to help her feel safe, her mind was calling out for company, but she was unable to say a word. “Can you hear me? I’m here”

“I will take her to the hospital.”

“Not the hospital, Bella says she doesn’t want to spend her last days in the hospital. She said she is not afraid of death, but she doesn’t want to be lonely.”

#the sound of magic #annarasumanara #ryu minhyuk #bella #yoon ah yi #r #lee eul #ri eul #안나라수마나라 #baek ha-na #na il deung #ji chang wook #choi sung eun #hwang in yeop #ji hye won

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prof-peach · 3 years

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Hi professor! I have a dilema surrounding my zubat. he is very joyfull and loves battling, but he has expressed anxiousness about evolving into goldbat(i think he was atacked by One before i was is trainer). Ive been thinking about getting a few rare candies, as well as a soothing Bell, so i could imediatly evolve him into a Crobat, thus preventing him to BE a goldbat for longer than a few seconds. Would that be legetimate? or should i try looking for a everstone?

Well, seeing as you two get along so great from the sounds of it, I’d suggest first getting an all-over check up, make sure your little buddy is in tip-top condition, evolutions expends energy, and can be quite tiresome! We suggest if you are to speed-evolve anything, to at least leave one day in between doing so, with rest, and plenty of good food. After 24 hours AND REST, it’d be safe to evolve further without increased risk. A few seconds is just not adequate for the health of your Pokemon, evolution is quite consuming, puts stress in the body, and uses up stored fats and energy pools, leaving Pokemon in a bit of a lull in energy for a day or two afterwards. There are exceptions to this rule of course, but in this instance I’d just give it at least the day, to be safe.

The friendship based evolutions are quite different to level or stone based evolution, in that they take energy from us the trainers too. It’s that bond, that relationship, that can aid the safe and healthy evolution, and so long as you two are real close at the zubat stage, then there should be no issue. You will both be tired after the final evo, so eat well, take water if you go out to do this, and rest up afterwards, both of you.

You could just not evolve them of course, there’s nothing wrong with zubat, they’re super cute, handy in a multitude of situations, and quite frankly they get a bad reputation for some reason. This is a conversation you need to have with your buddy though, they’ll have preferences, and you two discussing options and trying to de-stress any decisions is key. No rush, so take the time you two need to figure it out. Both options are entirely fine.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

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Save The Date Chapter 11 ~What’s Brewing Claire?~

picture credit

Previously in Stramash ...

Jamie pulled back to look at her face and tipped her chin up to survey the cut on her lips. "He did this?"

She could only nod as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

Jamie turned the gun in his hand and marched towards the door, shouting at the police ushering Jack out to wait. Before Claire could scream for him to stop, he brought his forehead down on Jack's nose in a head butt before handing the weapon to a nearby officer. The sound of cartilage crunching echoed in the tiny room, making Claire wince. Jack fell onto his knees with a loud thud, holding his bleeding nose, shouting improprieties muffled by his hands.

"Now, that was uncalled for, Fraser," an officer clucked, but his grin and the amusement in his eyes implied he wasn't too bothered over Jack's injury. "Now go and get some rest. I'll handle the paperwork and delay the statement for tomorrow morning. You both have done enough to save the day."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

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Jamie studied Claire. She lay relaxed on the examination table, going through her phone and reading messages. She looked untroubled and seemed to have recovered from the ordeal this past weekend. The only tell-tale sign left of that hellish night was the tiny scab on her lower lip and bruising on her right cheek where Jack Randall had struck her. She was whole and safe, and yet here he was, having trouble letting go of that incident.

When he'd helplessly watched Jack shoved a gun against her neck and dragged her away from his sight, he'd felt the full gravity of her vulnerability and his inadequacy to secure her safety. But how Claire had handled the situation was nothing short of mind-blowing, albeit heart-stopping. She'd kept her presence of mind, aptly keeping Geneva talking while the tech specialist monitored the audio listening device. The moment they'd identified the voice on the phone, the administration in Broadmoor had been immediately alerted to make sure Geneva didn't go anywhere until the police arrived.

Geneva and Jack were in jail now, awaiting trial and most likely would stay there for a very long time. He really needed to stop fixating on what could have gone wrong and focus on the matter at hand, like their baby's condition and Claire's health.

He puffed out a breath and sprung onto his feet. "Ye comfy, Sassenach?"

"I'm good," she replied, without looking up from her phone screen.

"Ye ken, we can cancel the baby reveal for another day."

"I know, but I prepared so much food already."

They were having his family and closest friends over for afternoon tea to share the news of their baby. Claire had insisted on a celebration to invalidate the ordeal Geneva had put them through, determined not to allow recent events to cast a shadow over their upcoming nuptials. Jamie had thought it was too soon, but Claire had pressed that the sooner they moved forward from the incident, the better.

So last night, she'd spent the entire evening preparing shortcrust pastries, scones batter and making Victorian sponge cake. Apparently, she'd taken some lessons in baking and cooking from Mrs Fitz so that she could host parties like Jenny and his ma. It was as if her work, all the travelling she'd been doing, preparing for the wedding and recovering from trauma wasn't enough. She also needed to put up a brave front.

Though the doctor had given Claire an all-clear in London after a routine checkup, Jamie had insisted on another examination when she'd complain of spotting last night. He hadn't a clue what that had meant, but the concerned look on her face was enough for him to push her for another doctor's appointment. To his relief, she'd hardly put up a fight, and he'd immediately arranged a consultation with a private practice to speed things along since the NHS hospitals were notorious for long waits.

"I just want ye to be certain, Sassenach. That's all. I dinnae want this tea party putting a strain on ye."

Claire put her phone down and glanced up at him. "I'm pregnant, Jamie, not incapacitated. I know you're worried about the spotting, but I'm quite certain pregnant women gets them sometimes. I don't feel ill, but here we are, taking precautions."

Sighing, he moved to her side and took her hand in his. "It's just that I'm bothered about that bruise behind yer back. It looks vicious. I ken bruising looks a lot worse than it is, but I cannae help but wonder if the baby has been harmed when ye banged yer behind on those shelving units after Jack pushed ye. I'm concerned about any delayed complications. Or if the doctor in London overlooked something."

She squeezed his hand. "Your worries are valid, Jamie. The odds of miscarriage or complications might be highest in the first trimester, but I haven't had any issues." She shrugged. "Oh, well, except for the tiny spotting last night. I'm sure everything's fine. Try not to worry."

Easier said than done, Jamie thought. How could Claire sit there looking so calm? Now that she's pregnant, the world was suddenly full of threats: unpasteurised juice and dairy, soft cheeses that she loved so much, fish high in mercury, saunas and hot tubs, secondhand smoke, changing Adso's litterbox. Not to mention aunt Jocasta's bloody stories of baby-abducting fairies. He really needed to stop reading too much pregnancy information; otherwise, he'd go insane.

Claire gave him a look that said she could tell he was overthinking things.

He promptly kissed her on the lips. "Aye, I guess ye're right," he conceded. "I'm sorry for over-reacting."

The door suddenly opened, and in walked a friendly-looking middle-aged female doctor. "Hello, Claire! Dr Fiona Innes. How are we feeling today?"

"I'm good, just a bit nervous about the spotting," Claire breathed.

"Understandably." Then the doctor turned to Jamie. "And ye're..."

"James Fraser. The one who got her up the duff," he replied, taking the doctor's outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake.

"Jamie!" Claire gasped, her face crimsoning profusely.

The doctor laughed. "Hah! I like that! A good sense of humour will get ye through anything." She dragged the ultrasound monitor closer to the exam table and pulled up a stool. "So, let's get started so we can put both yer mind at ease, shall we?" She proceeded to put gloves on and prepare the probe that Jamie had the unfortunate luck of knowing already what it was for. "Now, Claire, I want ye to lie back and place yer feet in the stirrups."

Claire did as she was told while Jamie helped her ease down. He winced when he heard the sound of latex snapping over the probe. He looked away and took Claire's hand in his.

"Is this your first ultrasound visit, Mr Fraser?"

He glanced over his shoulder, thinking the doctor must have noticed the strain on his face. "Aye and no."

Dr Innes arched an eyebrow.

Jamie pointed at the probe and tried not to grimace. "I've seen a doctor used that thing on her when she was hospitalised a few weeks ago. I hadn't known what was going on then, so I walked away and let them get on with it."

"I see." The doctor refocused her attention back to Claire. "Now relax for me and big deep breaths," Dr Innes advised as she put lubricating gel on the blunt tip of the probe. "This will be a tad bit uncomfortable."

Claire shut her eyes and took a deep breath while Jamie whispered all sorts of nonsense in her ear. When her grip clenched into a tight vice, he pressed his lips on the top of her head.

A few seconds passed, and that's when he heard it. He stilled. It was loud, clear and steady. The unmistakable sound of a heartbeat coming from the monitor. It was their baby's. He let out a sharp exhale, realising he'd discovered something powerful in the tiny, vulnerable life form growing in Claire's womb.

His ma once said that the heartbeat was the first music that a child heard and that every bairn was born knowing the rhythm of their mother's song. To Jamie, this was the sound of their child's soul, the unspoken words already speaking volumes. It was as if it was saying, I'm alive and well, can you hear me?

"Weel, that sounds like a strong and healthy heartbeat there," Dr Innes remarked. "See right there?" Jamie and Claire stirred in their positions to take a better look at where the doctor was pointing. "That's yer baby."

Releasing Claire's hand, Jamie stepped closer to the monitor and tipped his head to the side, adjusting his eyes to discern the grainy image on the monitor. When he finally figured out the shape, mixed emotions began to bombard him in all directions. He felt the complexity of love at seeing a piece of himself and Claire on the screen, inspiring fierce protective instinct to kindle within him. Words like elation, joy and sobering responsibility were too meagre terms and did not give justice in describing how visceral all his emotions were.

"T-that ..." Jamie pointed an index finger at the image, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Is that a ..."

"It's not what ye think, Mr Fraser. That's the foot," Dr Innes responded briskly. She shifted the probe at a different angle to capture another image. "As far as I can see, everything seems to be in perfect working order. I can safely say ye have a healthy, strong baby, so ye can both rest easy."

Jamie continued to stare at the monitor, still trying to wrap the idea of impending fatherhood around his head. "The baby is no' missing any parts, is it?"

"The baby has everything it should have at this stage of the pregnancy," the doctor replied, amused. "Though I think we'll need another few weeks to be able to tell the gender."

"Thank you so much, doctor," Claire said gratefully, pushing herself upright. "We were worried about the spotting and thought it might have had to do with the stress and trauma of what happened last weekend. It was mad, really. I nearly got abducted and had a gun pointed at me."

The doctor threw the probe's latex into the waste and began peeling off her gloves, seemingly unaffected by what Claire had just revealed, making Jamie think physicians were used to hearing such stories. The doctor gave them both an understanding look. "Having a gun pointed at ye is quite jarring, so I understand why ye're both concerned. So how are ye coping mentally?"

"I try not to dwell on it and carry on as usual," Claire shrugged. "So far, I'm dealing with it fine."

The doctor looked at Claire curiously, her expression full of empathy. "Sometimes ignoring it isn't as cut and dried as you think. Try and get some counselling. Ye're going to deal enough with all the hormones impacting yer physiological, physical and mental well being. This is the time to be enjoying this exciting time in yer life, so counselling is just taking a precautionary step to ensure you are in a good place and prepared for what the next few months will throw at ye."

Jamie locked eyes with Claire, and a silent agreement passed between them. They both understood the impact of a traumatising experience, and he wanted to take the doctor's advice on board.

"I'll make sure she and the baby are well taken care of," he reassured the doctor, patting Claire's thigh.

"I'm sure ye will," the doctor smiled, pressing buttons on the monitor.

"Let's just hope he won't go over the top," Claire added. "He has a tendency to do that."

The doctor pulled out copies of ultrasound images from the printer and glanced up at Jamie. "I can understand the need to protect, but just bear in mind, us women are more resilient and stronger than we look," she pointed out. "And pregnant women aren't as frail as society perceives them to be."

Jamie laughed. "There's no question about that. After all, my wife-to-be here achieved what twenty-four specialist firearms officers could not."

"Oh?" Dr Innes looked surprised. "And what was that?"

"She single-handedly took down a maximum-security prisoner escapee, helped led the police to his psychopathic accomplice and in the process saved an innocent mistakenly imprisoned," Jamie explained. "I ken it was a foolish move with her being pregnant and all ..."

"It might have been foolish, but I happen to believe Claire's response is inherent in all mothers and mothers-to-be, and it's something almost impossible for the human brain to override."

"Och, aye?"

"It's called maternal instinct, Mr Fraser, and it's as old as life itself." Dr Innes got up and handed him an envelope containing the ultrasound images. "So woe to anyone who dares a mother-to-be or new mother harm because they're utterly more ferocious than any man wielding a gun when it comes to defending their nest." She looked between him and Claire and smiled. "Anyway, congratulations to you both on your coming parenthood." Then she faced Jamie and patted him on the shoulder. "And as for ye, congratulations on yer newly acquired bodyguard. Ye can sleep well tonight."

..........

Jamie walked in and placed the last of their shopping bags onto the kitchen counter. "Is there anything else ye need, Sassenach, before I go?"

Claire felt him approach and busied herself, placing apples in a large bowl and then lemons in another. "Umm ...I think I have everything I need." She felt his eyes boring into her back but tried her best not to get distracted. "Shall I make a sandwich to take with you?"

"No, I'm no' hungry."

"Oh, alright ...I guess I shall see you later then."

"I have a few minutes to spare. Want to talk?"

"Talk about what?"

"What ye're feeling. Ye haven't said much all morning ...since we left the clinic. And ye hardly talked to me while we went food shopping."

She took out a knife and honing steel from a drawer and went through the motion of sharpening the blade. "Oh ...I guess I must have been preoccupied with my mental to-do list. That's all."

A long silence ensued, and after what felt like an eternity, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Sassenach, can ye stop what ye're doing for a minute and look at me?"

Hot tears suddenly settled behind her eyes, but she fiercely blinked them back and breathed deeply, swallowing down conflicting emotions and refusing to let them fall. She didn't want to be the type of woman who cried at the littlest and inconsequential thing. She'd never been a crier before, and she wasn't about to become one if she could help it.

"I'm busy, Jamie."

"Please."

Bracing herself, she placed down her utensils and faced him. "What is it?"

"This ..." Jamie waved his hand at the shopping bags on the counter. "I ken what this is. Ye havenae sat still ever since we came back from our trip. Ye've decluttered our bedroom and cleaned out all the kitchen cupboards. And now an afternoon tea party? I ken what ye're doing. Ye're keeping yersel' busy to forget what happened in London instead of talking about it."

"No." She shook her head. "It's not that."

Jamie impatiently rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "Weel, what is up with ye then?"

"Hormones."

"Hormones," Jamie echoed. "Why did you no' just say so?"

She felt her face heat up. "I don't know. Maybe I didn't know it at the time. Or perhaps, because it all seems so silly that I'm getting all worked up for nothing."

Jamie stepped closer and braced her cheeks with both hands, a calloused thumb tenderly swiping her lower lip. "Listen to me very carefully. Whatever ye're feeling or going through, hormonal or not, is never silly. Everything ye have to say is important to me. Trust me on that. I always want to know if something is bothering ye and be able to help ye fix it. Yer body is going through many changes, and it's normal yer emotions are all over the place. So no more self-deprecating thoughts about yer feelings. Am I making myself clear?"

She pursed her lips and nodded, tamping down the urge to cry.

"Very well then, tell me what's going through that mind of yers. At least we can clear the air between us before I go, and my whole family comes and start noticing that something isnae right. Today is supposed to be a celebration of our baby. I dinnae want anything to ruin this day in as much as I think we should delay this for another time."

"Fine." She shut her eyes to search for the right words, but no matter how she formulated them in her head, it didn't sound right. Saying it out loud would only make her appear pathetic. But there was no way around it once Jamie set his mind in extracting something from her.

"Sassenach?"

Her eyes flew open. "Yes?"

"Yer face is getting redder by the second. I'm beginning to worry."

"Very well, if you must know ..." She blew out a breath. "You haven't touched me since that night in London, that's what," she blurted out. "I feel like you're avoiding me. Every time it was time for us to go to bed, you always had some excuse, like you haven't walked the dog or you need to check the emails." Unable to hold it back any longer, she suddenly burst out crying. "I know it's hormones talking, and I'm acting silly. But I can't help but feel the way I feel because I'm hormonal and horny. That's why I'm keeping myself busy, so I will not overthink things. Because if I did, I'd start believing you don't want me anymore, even if logic says it's not true. Happy now?"

He blinked rapidly as if his brain was short-circuiting.

"Yeah, just the reaction I knew I was going to get. See what I mean when I said I was acting silly?"

"No," he groaned out loud. "Sweet baby Jesus! Ye cannae say things like horny when I have to go."

Claire slapped Jamie on the chest. "Jamie! You wanted to know what was wrong! Now that I've said it, you can't blame me for it!"

"Cancel the tea party, and I'll tell Willie I'll be late!"

"No!"

"Why no'?"

"Because!"

With a deep groan, he grabbed her neck from behind and gave her a hard kiss. There was nothing tender or playful about it, just a desperate act of trying to get his fill. He let out a frustrated moan as his tongue swept in her mouth, and a hand cupped her breast, his arousal hard and thick against her belly, letting her know how much he wanted her. When he finally broke the kiss, they were both gasping for air. He pressed their foreheads together, breathing harshly into her face. "How could ye think, even in yer hormonal state, I dinnae want ye any more? Damn it, Sassenach, I've been aching for ye these past few days."

"Then why didn't you touch me?"

He shook his head as he attempted to even his breath. "That night in London, after I took ye back to the hotel, I wanted to bury myself deep inside ye so I could remind myself that ye're really alive and back in my arms. But when I saw that bruising behind yer back and knowing what ye've just been through in yer pregnant state, I thought if I took ye right there and then, I might cause ye irreparable damage, physically and psychologically. I wanted to make sure ye're properly healed first and that our baby was safe. God, all those nights I was away from our bed, I've been doing push-ups to release all those pent-up frustrations of not being able to make love to ye."

"So you did want me all along ..."

He tapped her nose. "Aye, ye silly goose."

"Oh Jamie," she sighed. "You still don't get it, do you?" She placed a hand against his face and smiled for the first time that morning.

"Get what?" he asked, looking suddenly confused.

"You should know by now, lovemaking is the best stress reliever. I thought you knew that."

"Weel ..."

"Remember the times when you were all worked up and conflicted, and how much better you felt after sex?" When he nodded, she pressed on. "Whenever you and I have sex, whether it's fast, hard, long or a quickie, it always came from a place of love. And we've talked about this before ...love heals. The most wonderful thing about our lovemaking, it puts us in that intimate space where we can better connect, heal, open us to those hard conversations, helping us in the process to find closure and release. If sex worked for you to ease your stress, why should it be any different for me? I needed you most after that horrendous night, Jamie. I needed your body to ground me. But I understand now why you didn't touch me that night."

Jamie stared at the ceiling and sighed before looking at her with a mixture of wonderment and torment. He let out a pained laugh. "Weel, right now, I'm under a lot of stress and pressure." He took her hand and placed it on his bulging arousal to make a point. "How about we continue this in the bedroom and let off some steam? I'm stressed, and ye're horny. Ideal combo! Ye can use my body anyway ye want."

Claire clucked her tongue and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Oh, no, you don't, you sneaky, Scot! You're running late as it is." She placed both hands on his chest and began pushing him out of the kitchen. "How about you let me get on with food preparation, and you finish what you need to do so you can come home as soon as you can in time for the tea party?" she proposed.

"How about my stress levels?" he grumbled.

"Your stress levels are fine!" She turned him around and smacked him on the bum. "Now go. Mrs Fitz will be here any minute to bring the Battenberg cake I ordered."

At the mention of Mrs Fitz, Jamie didn't need any more prodding. He gave her another quick kiss and left the cottage, muttering something about getting a new house before slamming the door behind him.

..........

The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed by quick, and something in Claire lightened even though she was a nervous wreck hosting her first traditional English tea party.

She looked at the kitchen counter laden with several tiered plates displaying the delicacies she'd meticulously prepared. She was ready, and everything looked perfect.

She'd made four different tea sandwiches to be on the safe side: pear and stilton, cucumber and cream cheese, egg salad, and smoked salmon and dill. And then there were scones, lemon curd tartlets, fruit tarts, and shortbread and Linzer cookies she was looking forward to gorge on. On the other end of the counter were Mrs Fitz's Battenberg cake and Claire's pièce de résistance, Victoria's sponge filled with jam, berries and double cream. Her teabox was neatly packed with Darjeeling, Earl Grey, and Assam, and the pitchers of lavender and elderflower lemonade were cooling nicely in the fridge.

Perfection!

She was about to wash the sink when she heard a rap on the window. She looked up and saw Jenny waving at her. Letting her in through the kitchen back door, she was surprised to see her carrying a stack of real estate pamphlets and magazines with its pages tabbed with colourful sticky notes.

"Jen! What's all that?"

Jenny shrugged. "Weel, after what happened to ye in London and with everything going on at the moment, I thought I'd make yer life easier." She plonked down her load on a nearby stool and picked up a magazine, leafing through the pages. "I heard from Willie ye and Jamie are looking for a bigger place. So I decided to grab all these. It has listings of every available property for sale in the surrounding area. Ma and I saved the pages we thought ye and Jamie might like."

"Oh, Jen!" Claire gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Jenny waved a hand. "Think nothing of it!"

Feeling emotional, Claire gave Jenny a big hug. "That's very thoughtful of you. Thank you so much." When she finally broke away from their embrace, she noticed deep furrows on Jenny's forehead. "Jen? What's wrong?"

Jenny's usually brilliant blue eyes suddenly looked serious as they landed on the bruising on her cheek. "Does that still hurt?"

Claire touched her cheek. "Oh, this? No, not at all. It looks worse than it is. Poor Jamie getting all these weird looks when we're out and about. He was even accused by some granny of being an abuser. I can understand why but I had to step in and explain to the old dear."

Jenny wrung her hands and gave her a small smile. "Actually, I -I came early because I wanted to talk with ye. Just us two."

"Oh, do you want a drink first?" Claire offered, jerking a thumb in the direction of the fridge. "I have some lemonade ..."

"No! Please! I need to get this out before anything else."

Claire nodded. "Alright then, I'm all ears."

"I-I want to apologise for ..." Jenny's chin crumpled, seemingly attempting to blink back her tears. " ...for what happened to ye in London."

"Wot? Oh, Jen! Why are you apologising? That wasn't your fault."

Jenny raised a hand, which told Claire to let her talk. "It was in some ways my fault, Claire. Geneva was my friend, and I tried to push Jamie and her together. I shouldn't have told her last year there was a vacancy in the village, and then she wouldn't have come back and pursued her interest in my brother. I honestly had no idea she was capable of such horrid deeds. If I'd known, I wouldn't have taken her into my circle of friends and family."

Claire shook her head. "No one could have known, and no one knew. Even her work colleagues and peers were shocked when they found out what she's done. She's a master manipulator, Jen, and she probably manipulated you too under the guise of friendship."

"Still ..." Jenny insisted. "If it wasn't for my meddling ..."

"Stop right there!" Claire wagged a finger at Jenny. "We've locked horns on the subject before and moved on from that already. Alright? Past is past. We all make mistakes. The most important thing is we learn from it. So no more mention of Geneva."

This time Jenny's smile reached her eyes. "Fine! Just dinnae tell Jamie we talked about this."

"Whyever not?"

"Jamie has given everyone in the family strict orders, not to mention about London today."

"Really?"

Jenny nodded. "He didn't want to ruin today's celebration rehashing what happened. Unfortunately, I had to in order for me to apologise, but enough of that now." She clapped her hands. "So, how about that drink. I'm parched." She whirled around and stopped, her eyes widening when she saw the spread Claire had prepared. Walking over to the kitchen counter, she took in everything with a smile. "Goodness, did ye make all these?"

Claire smiled with pride. "I did. Except for the Battenberg cake. Mrs Fitz made it."

"Ye said, ye didnae know how to bake," Jenny said almost begrudgingly.

"Now I do, thanks to the wifey Bootcamp I attended, also known as Mrs Fitz's kitchen."

"These all look scrumptious. It's been ages since I had a proper English afternoon tea." Jenny glanced up at her and grinned. "So, what are we celebrating?"

Claire nearly blurted out the baby news, but she quickly caught herself. Sliding an arm around her soon-to-be sister-in-law, she walked Jenny to the end of the counter to show her the sponge cake. "Today, we're celebrating love, friends and family."

Jenny poked a finger into the clotted cream and licked. "I like the sound of that. That'll always be a perfect excuse for a celebration or a proper afternoon tea party."

Claire smiled. "I couldn't agree more, Jen. I couldn't agree more."

..........

Jamie came home from work and noticed all the sandwiches, tarts and cakes laid out on the kitchen counter. He was mildly astonished that Claire had been able to prepare so much in the nick of time. He glanced out the window and spied her and Jenny in the garden, busily arranging tablecloths on the long wooden table. Looking at his watch, he realised he had about fifteen minutes to get ready before their friends and family started arriving.

But first things first.

Stepping out into the backyard, he snuck behind Claire and wrapped his arms around her waist, planting a soft kiss on her neck. "Mmm, ye smell of berries, lemon and lavender," he whispered, running his lips on her bare skin and ignoring Jenny's mumbling about getting a room.

Claire turned in his hold and smiled up at him. "And you reek, mister. You won't be served tea smelling like that."

"Fancy a shower with me then?" he suggested, feeling mischievous. "Jen's here to look out for guests."

"Nice try, but I had a shower already, and Jen is our guest today."

He leaned down and nibbled her earlobe, making her squeal.

"Jamie, you're going to get my dress dirty. Oh, fiddlesticks ..." She suddenly stilled mid-laughter and made a face, her hand covering her nose. "Urgh ...what's that smell?"

Jamie let her go and took a whiff of his shirt. "Oh, it's just a bit of wood stain I was working with. It'll come off in a wash."

Her face suddenly turned pale. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to be sick. Tell Jen I'll be right back ...and you ...you go have a shower before your parents arrive." With that, she spun around and ran back to the cottage.

Stunned, he watched her disappearing form and whistled under his breath. "What just happened?" he muttered, even though he knew the answer had to do with the dreaded pregnancy sickness. She'd been doing so well so far he almost thought morning sickness was nothing but a myth, even though Claire had revealed, she couldn't stand the smell of aniseed, star anise, fennel, and liquorice.

"Maybe, she's pregnant and suffering from sickness?" Jenny replied, walking past him with an armful of wildflowers to put into the empty vases dotted on the wooden table.

He hadn't realised Jenny had returned from wherever she'd disappeared to. He needed to be careful not to reveal their baby news too soon, or the surprise would be ruined. Jenny was simply someone who couldn't keep a secret.

"Ach, I should have known chemical smells always make her nauseous," he explained, not wanting to give too much away to his perceptive sister.

Jenny twitched her lips from side to side as she trimmed the bouquet's stems with pruning shears. "Aye, that will be right!" she smirked.

He glared at his sister. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged and gave him a knowing look. "Nothing! Now go have a shower, and I'll take care of things here until Claire feels better."

Jamie was about to say more when he heard the sound of a car parking in the driveway. As Jenny made a move to take a look, he quickly made a beeline back to the cottage before anyone saw him, hoping Claire had already recovered from her bout of sickness.

..........

Jamie leaned back on his chair and glanced around. It was a perfect summer late afternoon, and everyone seemed to be having a great time and enjoying the food Claire had prepared. The sun warmed his face and bathed the garden in dazzling light, making the different shades of green and the profusion of wildflowers more vibrant and alive. The chatter was lively, and funnily enough, no one complained about the lack of alcohol which was highly unusual for a gathering in Scotland. But, he suspected his godfather must have a flask of whisky or something similar tucked away somewhere as he was getting louder and more boisterous as time went by.

He took Claire's hand in his, and she turned his way and smiled. Her face looked pale, but there was an aura of tranquillity radiating from her that told him she was happy and content. Though her plate was full of food, it remained untouched, and if anyone had noticed, no one said anything. "How are ye feeling, Sassenach?"

She took a huge deep breath, held it in for a few seconds and then relaxed. "I'm fine," she sighed. "It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

He knew she was valiantly fighting back the sickness that must be creating havoc in her body but was too stubborn to give in to it. "Shall we tell them about the surprise so you can finally have a rest?" he suggested in a low voice, so no one would hear. "It cannae be comfortable sitting here when ye feel so unwell."

She shook her head as she gulped in more air. "I want to wait for uncle Lamb. He'll be here soon."

Quentin's plane from Athens should have arrived four hours ago but was delayed because of some mechanical issues. Jamie hoped for Claire's sake Quentin was on his way and wasn't dilly-dallying somewhere, like planning a grand entrance. Jamie kissed her cheek, hoping to sweet talk her to giving up this charade of wellness. "I'm pretty sure ye're uncle will understand once he finds out about yer condition."

"I know," Claire murmured. "But I want today to be perfect and complete. I want to see uncle Lamb's face when we announce it."

"But it's already perfect."

"Not without uncle Lamb."

Jamie prayed for patience and tamped down the urge to haul this beautiful but infuriating woman in his arms and carry her to bed. He squeezed her hand and yielded to her request, knowing this get-together was important to her. "Whatever ye say, Sassenach. Just let me know if ye need anything."

"I will," she replied between sharp intakes of breath.

Jamie decided not to press anymore. He knew this was one battle he couldn't win without creating a scene in front of their friends and family. But if Claire thought she was pulling this act off, Jamie was convinced, his perceptive family had already caught on with what was passing. Claire was a terrible actress, and she couldn't even lie to save her life.

Fortunately, their intimate tea party was animated and loud, and it diverted the attention from Claire. Directly opposite them, Tom and Willie were discussing the merits of owning a mini campervan for spontaneous weekend trips around the Highlands. On one end of the table, Murtagh passionately ranted and raved to Brian and uncle Duncan about the Tories and how SNP was the solution to Scotland's political future. Next to Claire, Annalise showed Ellen and aunt Jocasta how to work the Instagram app while Jenny, Mary and Geillis cackled over some celebrity gossip they've probably read somewhere. Grannie Annie had meanwhile fallen asleep in her seat with Adso in her lap and Rollo at her feet. At the far end of the garden, Finlay, Geillis' boyfriend and Ian were having a go at playing badminton but kept hitting the shuttlecock over the hedge to both their frustration.

Though Jamie was happy the tea party had gone as planned, he couldn't relax, too worried about Claire predicament. If it got to the stage where Claire lost any more colour to her face, he was sure no one would be able to blame him for whatever course of action he would take next.

"Right, does anyone want some fresh cuppa?" Claire suddenly announced, getting up from her seat.

Annalise immediately jumped to her feet. "I can do that."

Willie got up too. "I'll put the kettle on."

"I'll clear up the empty dishes," Geillis offered, already grabbing an empty tiered plate stand. "We dinnae want this stunning antique piece being knocked over, now do we?"

Ellen reached over to Claire from her seat and patted her hand. "Everything was lovely, dear. I couldnae decide which was my favourite. And that lavender lemonade was refreshing."

"Aye," Murtagh piped in as he got up and sat directly opposite Claire. "I bet it will taste even better with gin or vodka."

Brian frowned at Murtagh. "The lavender lemonade tastes good as it is. There's nae need to spoil it with alcohol. Besides, it's good for ye to give yer poor liver a wee break. If ye're no' careful, yer gene pool will soon have a swim-up bar."

"I dinnae drink that much," Murtagh grumbled.

"Aye ye do," Aunt Jocasta pointed out. "Dinnae think for one minute I didnae notice ye've been spiking yer tea."

Before Murtagh could retort, Geillis came back in time with a steaming mug and placed it in front of Claire.

"Ooh, what's this?" Claire asked, looking into her drink.

"It's ginger and turmeric tea," Geillis declared. "It's good for ye. I brought it with me from Glasgow. It's organic, and thought ye might like it."

Jamie couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew ginger tea or any form of ginger were effective in reducing nausea. Claire probably knew too because her eyes lit up and gave Geillis an appreciative nod. If he wasn't a hundred per cent certain earlier, everyone knew about Claire's condition, now he's more convinced than ever they were playing along. Jamie appreciated the gesture, but this had gone on too far. Where the bloody hell is Quentin?

"I'm back!" boomed a voice, waking grannie Annie up. It was as if Jamie's thoughts had conjured Claire's uncle from thin air, and there he was making a grand entrance as Jamie had expected. "I hope there are some leftovers. I'm famished."

Claire laughed, twisting around on her seat to watch her uncle approaching. Ellen got up and started plating some food for Quentin.

"There's plenty of leftovers," Annalise assured as she placed another platter of sandwiches on the table. "Claire made enough for the entire village."

Quentin gave Claire a quick kiss on the forehead before greeting the rest of the party, who'd gathered back around the table. "Sorry for the delay," he apologised, finally taking a seat next to Claire. "Our plane was stuck on the tarmac without any air conditioning. We had no choice but to sit there and stew in the heat while the engineers fixed the plane."

"Well, I'm glad you're here now," Claire said, looking adoringly at her uncle.

Quentin stared at the bruising on her cheek. "I don't like the look of that. It looks ..."

Sounds of several throats clearing ensued, a signal to Quentin not to pursue the London topic any further.

"Very well," Quentin nodded in understanding. "I'm glad too that I'm here."

Claire smiled. "Alrighty, so now that everyone's here, Jamie and I have an announcement to ..."

"Hold that thought, sweetheart," Quentin interrupted as he bent down to retrieve the holdall he'd placed at his feet. "I brought a souvenir."

Jamie bit his tongue at the interruption.

"I hope it's not another ceramic plate," Claire groaned, unaware of Jamie's frustration.

"No. I got something better." Quentin waggled his bushy eyebrows as he unzipped his bag and proceeded to rummage through its contents. "Wait for it! Wait for it!" Suddenly he yanked out a bottle and held it up for everyone to see. "I got Ouzo!" he announced with satisfaction.

"Yesss, ya beauty!" Murtagh cheered happily, banging a hand on the table. "I love Ouzo."

Aunt Jocasta scowled at Murtagh. "Ye like anything alcoholic. Ye'll drink Listerine if it was placed in front of ye."

"What's Ouzo?" Claire asked as she stared curiously at the offering. "I mean, I've heard of it before, but I've forgotten what it is."

Jamie was about to fill in the information and tell her she wouldn't be able to stand the smell of it when Quentin expertly uncapped the bottle and held it under Claire's nose. Oblivious to Jamie's hitch of breath, Claire pressed her nose closer to the opening of the bottle to take a better whiff. Ah, shite!

"It's an anise flavoured liquor," Quentin described. "Mostly served as an aperitif in Greece.."

Jamie watched in awe as Claire's head jerked back and her face contorted when her senses registered the smell, and a low, gurgling sound came from deep down in her belly. He winced, half expecting any moment now a horrific scene of projectile vomiting, and the recipient would be none other than his godfather sat opposite her. But Claire jumped to her feet, startling everyone, and her hand immediately clapped over her mouth, golden eyes bright and tearing up. Quick thinking Jenny, grabbed a sprig of mint she'd put in the vase, macerated it in her hands and offered it to Claire. Everyone gasped and watched in fascination as Claire took the green leaves and stuffed her mouth with them, and began to chew, jaws working overtime, reminding Jamie of a cow feeding in the fields. Nobody said a word, waiting for the next scene to unfold or for someone to offer an explanation.

Swallowing audibly, Claire finally untensed and slumped back down to a loud hearty burp. And as if nothing had happened, she calmly drank a good measure of her ginger tea, put the mug down and then smiled. "Sorry about that. So where were we again?"

Eyes bulging almost out of his head, Quentin sputtered before he managed to string a coherent sentence together. "W-What the bloody hell was that? Was that some kind of weird side effects from what happened in London that I have no idea of?"

Claire looked at Jamie, looking suddenly exhausted. "Can you please tell them?"

"Tell me what?" Quentin bristled.

Jamie dropped his head on his folded arms resting on the table and allowed it to bounce once. Twice. Thrice. God must have taken pity of him because when he glanced up, everyone shouted in chorus. "Claire and Jamie are having a baby!"

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for the response and feedback I received for my previous chapter. I know it got a bit crazy; therefore, today's update is more subdued to allow everyone's breathing to go back to normal. Nevertheless, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much I've enjoyed writing it for you.

Anyway, I hope you're all keeping safe and taking care of yourself and mostly taking the time to enjoy the last days of summer. Keep up the good vibes and be well. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #savethedate #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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local-ground-apple · 3 years

Note

Hello! IDK if this has been asked, but... How would the dormitory leaders react when they and s/o got the main roles for the annual theater play? And it's romance with the kissing at the end of the play~ ❤

I can totally see Vil being so into this! Thank you for your request~~! ❤

🥀 for sure Cater will be in the first row filming the whole play and zooming on kissing scene and then sending it to literally everyone (rip Cater Diamond, you will be remembered)

🥀 Riddle simply turns into red, flustered ball on emotions. Which you think it’s kind of cute. It will take a lot of time to convince him to actually agree and prepare for the role,

🥀 at first he’s completely against whole idea. Sure, he is flattered and proud of himself (and you) for getting a role in the annual theater play, but deep down Riddle is insecure. He’s not sure whether he can portray the character right,

🥀 oh and the mere thought of kissing you in front of whole school makes his already rosy cheeks even redder than usual,

🥀 so you two end up practising mostly the kiss, cause each time your lips linger a bit closer to his, Riddle’s cheeks flush rosy color and his whole form melts,

🥀 which you think it’s cute, but you both know that absolutely cannot happen on the stage

🥀 and yes, Cater coos how cute you both are and offers some acting tips,

🦁 the annual theater play, huh? Certainly not interested, would muttered Leona while turning on his back to continue his nap peacefully,

,,Y’know, it would be a real shame if Malleus got the role of the prince” “yhm, I don’t care” “there’s a kissing scene, y’know?” “WHAT, THIS IS MY ROLE”

🦁 absolutely doesn’t mind kissing scene, instead Leona insists on practicing it few times. To make sure it’s perfect, as he would playfully say,

,,We can’t practice this one scene all over again. Did you even learn the script?” “We have a script?”

🦁 you and Ruggie has to literally drag his lazy ass to rehearsals, since Leona wouldn’t even bother attending them,

🦁 surprisingly, he’s amazing on the stage (when he actually puts some effort in his acting). Needless to say, he did steal the show,

🦁 how Leona managed to learn his parts and actually steal the whole show is still a mystery to you and Ruggie

🦁 little did you know, that he actually practiced in secret, without telling anyone as if he wanted to keep up his “cool aura”

🐙 wishes you all best, but he politely refuses to take part in the play. Even your pleading, puppy eyes aren’t sufficient to convince him. However, dating Azul taught you one thing – everything is possible if you know person’s deepest secrets

🐙 so you blackmailed him with slight help from Jade (Floyd won’t ever shut up about this),

🐙Azul has never ever in his octopus life felt that stunned. The way his eyes widen when you presented the conditions, was almost hilarious to you,

🐙 you enjoyed this way too much,

🐙probably one of the few who actually learned the whole script and practiced it every evening before going to bed. Once Azul sees that there’s no turning back, he will do everything to thoroughly prepare himself and steal the show,

🐙 insists on you two practicing after lessons and you happily oblige,

🐙 Azul denied the role at first, because he was simply insecure and anxious. The mere thought of kissing you in front of whole school where the eyes of every student will be all over you two, is simply paralyzing to him. Besides, he has a certain image of callous and meticulous businessman to maintain,

🐙 he will definitely get nervous few minutes before the start of the play. Azul’s heart will be racing, while he would be sweating and heavily breathing, but the moment your hands gently cup his face and your sweet words leave your lips, his body slowly begins to relax,

,,Don’t be so anxious, we had practiced it. It’s gonna be alright” “Y/N, I think we should practice this kissing scene one more time”

🦂 when you two got main roles in the annual school musical, you both were on cloud nine. Literally. Jamil had to listen to you both fangirling over it for almost a whole night,

🦂 Kalim is extremely, extremely, extremely excited and he’s beaming with happiness. He defintely thinks you’re both are made for the roles and he will put his heart into acting, singing and dancing,

🦂 well, the preparations may be a tad bit sloppy, yet you both don’t complain. The evenings spent on singing nice tunes, learning lyrics together, practicing choreographies and finally acting out few scenes is very enjoyable to Kalim (and of course you),

🦂 Kalim is rather giddy about kissing scene. Well, he certainly doesn’t mind it! No, no, he’s actually more than happy to kiss you in front of whole school. This man knows no shame,

🦂 rehearsals are chaotic. Well, the rehearsals your duo does, at least. During practices with the rest of students and teacher, suddenly you two are dead serious and focused on getting the notes and script right,

🦂 the duality sometimes scares Jamil,

💜 did someone say theatre play? Main roles? And on top of it kissing scene? And the male lead is not some sexy vilian? Vil is ceratinly in,

💜 he knows exactly what he’s doing and what you’re supposed to do. After all, his acting skills are simply splendid. Vil is more than eager to help you out,

💜 you two practice the script a LOT, acting out every single scene multiple times, just so you can ace it. He is rather strict as a partner/acting teacher, but you are aware that Vil just wants to make sure everything will be perfect and you will present yourself as best as you can,

💜 you find Vil’s advices extremely helpful and after a while you begin feel confident in your newly acquired skills,

💜he is not nervous before kissing scene, bah, he brushes it off as if it was something normal or regular in his life. Meanwhile, you are freaking out and screaming internally,

💜 which makes Vil amused and he may tease you a LOT, insisting to practice the kissing scene. His lips will playfully brush against yours for a brief second, before he pulls away with a smirk, while you can only pout and die from feels,

🖤 panic mode 10000000000. Idia is absolutely terrified when you tell him the “good news”,

🖤 give him literally 5 minutes and he will have his suitcase packed, booked flight to “Nope-land” and would be on his merry way. Idia is screaming internally as that’s something definitely out of his comfort zone,

🖤 he absolutely hates speaking before a big public, yet alone acting and the mere thought of having a kissing scene with you is more than enough to give him a heart attack. He certainly doesn’t want to disappoint you, since you’re so excited to take part in school play with him, yet it’s a matter of time before Idia politely refuses,

🖤 you don’t push him though – you do respect his boundaries,

🖤 however, when Idia proposes to either clone or create a hologram of himself for the play, you are just speechless and it’s your turn to politely refuse,

🖤 as much as Idia hates the mere thought of you kissing someone else, he won’t change his mind (he may suggest Vil to play the other main character tho)

🐲 Malleus is stunned and speechless the moment you tell him that you both got the main roles,

🐲 he’s even more stunned and speechless when you shyly mutter that it will involve the kissing scene,

🐲 Malleus has never really taken part in theatre play, yet alone displayed his affection (or more like affection of his character) for you in front of such crowd. Obviously, he hesitates, but your excited tone of voice and eyes filled with pure happiness were enough to convince him,

🐲 Malleus takes his role rather seriously and he prepares himself thoroughly – he knows the whole script by heart and could describe every detail of random scene in the middle of the night,

🐲 you are definitely more nervous than Malleus before kissing scene. He seems as stoic and collected as always, while you may be screaming internally,

,,I think we should practice this scene more” “I have kissed you more than 10 times already, darling. I may start thinking that this is just a mere excuse for you to kiss me, huh?” “That’s…that’s…THAT’S certainly not true Malleus!”

🐲 guaranteed that Lilia will be in the first row with a camera, while Sebek will be taking ton of pictures (and yeah, Silver is asleep per usual). “You’re doing great, sweetie” along with “Waka-sama hype man” will be a perfect addition to the theatre play,

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Delivery

Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Could you do one where the mayans are in lockdown and you go into labor. I can maybe taza/bishop or letty delivering and baby daddy freaking out and telling the guys not to look. Im not picky about the guy whoever you think fits best.

Warnings: language, mentions of birth and all the stuff that goes along with it I guess? I really didn’t get graphic with it at all, Creeper being a softie

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Full disclaimer I know nothing about giving birth. Everything I know I’ve learned from TV shows. So, if any of this is inaccurate in any way, that’s why lol. Regardless, hope you guys enjoy the fic! Creeper as a dad gives me all the soft feelings. Also sorry for not posting as much this week--saying it’s been a long fuckin’ week would be the understatement of the century so I haven’t really done much writing at all. Hoping to get through some more requests this weekend though! xo

Mayans Taglist: @garbinge @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @petlaufeyson (If you want to be added to my taglist just let me know!)

Going into lockdown at the clubhouse at 39 weeks pregnant hadn’t been on your list of things to do. Truthfully, for the last month or so of your pregnancy you’d stayed away from the clubhouse altogether unless you needed to get something from or for Creeper. He completely supported your decision, too. There was way too much smoke and alcohol and chaos at the clubhouse for you these days. Plus you needed to be somewhere with some kind of air conditioning or you turned into an entirely different person.

To his credit, Creeper did everything he could to keep you comfortable. And the last thing that he wanted to do was tell you that they were going into lockdown. You knew from the second he came home that afternoon that something was off.

“What’s up, baby?” you asked, walking over to him as he stood at the entrance to living room.

He met you halfway, gently caressing your belly before leaning in to kiss you lightly on the lips, “You know I love you, right?”

You leaned back, hands resting on top of your baby-bump, “What’d you do, Neron?”

He held his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t do anything, Mama. I swear.”

“What’s going on?”

“I can’t just tell you that I love you?”

You arched one eyebrow, “Not with that look in your eyes, you can’t.”

He chuckled, loving and hating how well you could read him. He sighed, running his hand back over the smooth skin of his head, “I love you. Promise you’re not gonna be mad at me for what I’m gonna tell you?”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” you crossed your arms, waiting for the hammer to drop.

He didn’t want to meet your eyes as he said it, but somehow he managed to, “I gotta take you to the clubhouse.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Why?”

There was a long stretch of silence, “Lockdown.”

“You’re kidding me. You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not. I’m sorry, baby,” he reached and took your hands in his own, “You know I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think you needed to.”

You sighed, watching his hands as he traced his thumb along your knuckles, “Shit’s getting that bad?”

He gave one slow nod, “Just tryin’ to keep everyone safe.”

Pressing your lips together into a thin line, you nodded. You knew that at the end of the day, he had minimal say in decisions like these. And, he was right, he wouldn’t ask this of you if he didn’t think it was necessary. That didn’t make you want to do it, though.

“Alright. Let me pack a bag.”

He shook his head, “I got you, baby. Just get your purse and shit. I got the rest.”

You chuckled, “I can pack my own clothes, Neron. I’m pregnant but I’m still capable.”

He insisted that you let him, trying to make up for the fact that you were in the position of having to leave because of him in the first place. You let him have that, standing back as he collected things to pack for you. You were impressed that he knew all of your favorite pieces of clothing, things that were actually still comfortable for you at this stage in your pregnancy. He didn’t say much as he got everything together for you.

“Grab the hospital bag, too, baby,” you said as you leaned against the doorframe.

“Yea?” his eyes grew wide.

You nodded, “Yea. You know how long we’ll be in lockdown for? ‘Cause this little one is ready to pop,” you gestured to your stomach.

“Shit. You’re right.”

You laughed, “Usually, yea.”

He refused to let you carry any of the bags to the car. You knew that he wouldn’t let you, but you still offered to. He opened the passenger side door and helped you step up into the car. You leaned back in the seat, taking a deep breath as you tried to mentally prepare for what the next few days were going to be like. The guys would do anything for you. That was always the case, but ever since you became pregnant, all of them had been extra attentive when given the opportunity. You often wondered if Creeper had anything to do with it.

When Creeper parked in front of the clubhouse, you saw a lot of familiar faces. You saw the guys, of course, but you also saw everyone’s family members that you didn’t get to see all that often. Most of them kept their families separate from the MC and you couldn’t blame them for it. But during times like this, everyone came together.

Creeper had all the bags slung over his arms and shoulders as he ran to open the car door for you. You chuckled as he held out a hand to help you out. How he managed to not tip himself over was a mystery to you. He directed you over to Bishop before scampering off to get his dorm set up and as comfortable as it would get for you.

You looked at Bishop, both of you had tired smiles on your faces. You were each exhausted for very different reasons, but there was still that level of sympathy there. He leaned in and kissed you on the cheek and you did your best to give him a hug.

“So, Neron tells me that you’re the one I’m supposed to be mad at about this?” you laughed as you gestured to the clubhouse.

Bishop laughed, nodding, “Afraid so. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know this isn’t where you wanna be right now.”

“No, it’s not,” you chuckled, gently rubbing your hands on your stomach, “But it’ll be alright.”

“Anything you need, you let us know.”

You nodded, “I will. Thank you, Bishop.”

He shook his head, “Thank you. I can’t imagine how tough this is.”

“We’re tough,” you gently patted your stomach.

He smiled, “You guys ever find out what you’re having?”

You shook your head, “Nope. Keeping it a surprise.”

He took your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, “You’re truly amazing.”

Bishop offered to walk with you back to the dorms and you let him, hoping that you would get a few crumbs of information about what was going on. Creeper didn’t tell you too much these days for fear of stressing you out and negatively affecting the baby. You appreciated his concern but not knowing occasionally drove you nuts. But Bishop was keeping a tight lip as well. You asked a couple questions and he skillfully dodged them. That was when you knew for a fact that Creeper had said something to the guys. The man really did try to think of everything.

Just as you were about to walk up to the door, someone cleared their throat behind you, “Excuse me.”

You and Bishop both turned, your eyes growing wider when you saw Chucky walking by, air conditioning unit wrapped up in his arms.

“My apologies, Y/N,” he said as he brushed past you as carefully as possible, “but this is for you so I hope you’ll forgive me barging through.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, “You’re fine, Chucky. No need to apologize,” you paused as you followed him back into the room, “Where…where did the AC unit come from?”

“The office,” he replied as he and Creeper started getting it set up in the window.

“Chucky,” you shook your head, “I can’t take that from you. You’ll melt out there without having it all day.”

He and Creeper both turned around and simultaneously shook their heads. Chucky spoke up, his tone genuine as ever, “The two of you need it much more than I do.”

You smiled, resting your hand on your stomach, “Thank you. I…I really appreciate it.”

Once the air conditioner was all set up, Bishop and Chucky disappeared out of the room and left you and Creeper by yourselves. You sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, glad to be back off of your feet for a little bit. Creeper came and sat down next to you, gently rubbing your back. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head as you leaned against him. It was hot, and you were uncomfortable, and truthfully the clubhouse was the last place you wanted to be. But he was trying so hard to make it as nice for you as he possibly could, and you couldn’t fault him for that.

“Thank you, baby,” you reached and rested your hand on his knee, “for doing all of this.”

“Anything else you need?”

You shook your head, “Just for you guys to get your business sorted,” you laughed, “But really, Neron, I’m fine. Thank you.”

He stayed with you for a little while, helping you finish unpacking everything. Despite the chaos, you always felt safe with him. Even when things were falling apart, he always made you feel like he had it all together, and that was the kind of stability that you needed. He’d been your rock throughout your whole relationship, but even more so since you became pregnant. He stepped up to the plate in ways that you wouldn’t have ever even imagined. You hadn’t really known what to expect because of his involvement with the club, but he reprioritized immediately. And no one in the club was brave enough to try and stand in his way about it.

A couple days went by and you were much more comfortable than you thought you were going to be. It wasn’t quite like being at home, but you could only expect so much. All things being considered, things were going smoothly. Letty was by your side almost constantly and you had to admit that it was nice to have another woman around in the midst of so much testosterone.

You were trying to find a comfortable position to sit in on the couch in the clubhouse. Nothing really felt comfortable at this point but you still tried. You were ready for lockdown, and your pregnancy, to be finished. You just wanted to be able to hold your baby in the comfort of your own home.

Letty saw you struggling and brought you a glass of ice water, knowing there wasn’t a whole lot else that she could really do for you. You appreciated the gesture, though, and it did help a little just to hold the cold glass in your hands. You were about to thank her when a sharp pain shot through you, catching you off-guard and causing you to drop the glass. It shattered on the ground as you groaned in pain, pressing your hand to your side.

“Fuck,” you tried to take a deep breath but it was hard to breathe through the sudden surge of pain.

“Shit, you okay?” Letty was crouched down by your side in an instant, trying not to step on the broken glass that littered the floor.

“Um, yea. I’m…I’m alright,” you took a steady breath.

“Uh…Y/N?” her eyes grew wide, “Do you…do you want me to call Creep?”

The shooting pain that went through you had temporarily distracted you from the fact that your water broke. You saw the look on Letty’s face, though, and it brought you back to reality. That’s when the anxiety really started to rush through you.

“Are they even here?” you hadn’t seen any of the men in a couple hours, and you had no idea where they had gone off to.

“I’ll go get Chucky and ask,” she stood up.

You grabbed her hand before she could leave, “No! Fuck, sorry just…send someone else. I can’t be here alone.”

“Shit, shit,” she looked around and spotted the newest prospect, “Steve! Go find Chucky or one of the guys. Get them in here now.”

With a nod he took off on his mission, barreling through the front door. Letty crouched back down next to you, trying to find the right things to say to help keep you as calm as possible. You appreciated her efforts but all you could think about was the fact that you might be delivering this baby essentially alone if none of the guys were around or close to being back. Another shot of pain went through you and you cursed, squeezing hard onto Letty’s hand. She cringed but didn’t say anything, trying to be whatever it was that you needed.

Hardly a minute later, the door to the clubhouse swung open and an entire entourage came charging in. Creeper led the pack, practically sprinting over to you. The fact that most of the guys still had on their sunglasses and had helmets dangling from their hands clued you into the fact that they must’ve just gotten back from wherever they had been.

“Are you okay?” he tried to nicely but quickly take Letty’s space by your side, “What do you need? What can I do?”

“I need a fucking hospital,” you grit your teeth through the pain of your next contraction.

“I think it might be too late for that, Y/N,” Bishop said with a slight shake of his head, clearly not thrilled about having to give you that piece of news.

“What?” you and Creeper responded in unison.

“I think you can either give birth here, or in the car on the way to the hospital,” he sounded calm but his brain was racing at a mile a minute, “But I don’t think that baby is gonna wait for the whole commute. The hospital isn’t exactly close.”

“Fuck,” you leaned your head back, nails digging into Creeper’s arm for a moment as you tried to breathe your way through another contraction. You looked over at Bishop, “You sound like you know what you’re talking about, Bishop.”

“I mean, I’ve always had the easy part of things. I just had to stand there and be encouraging.”

“Well,” you waited for his eyes to meet yours, “congrats. You’ve been promoted from presidente to doctor.”

His heart dropped into his stomach and he immediately shook his head, “Y/N, I don’t think—”

“Bishop. It wasn’t a suggestion. You’re the only one who has been through this in present company. Time to step the fuck up,” you impressed yourself with how confident you sounded, because on the inside you felt like you were falling apart, “Plus,” you managed what you could of a laugh, “It’s your clubhouse.”

He was nodding but you could see it in his eyes that he was trying to get a million different thoughts in order. He looked around, trying to figure out what he needed and what had to be moved around and changed in order to get this done. People used to do this with nothing, surely they could all figure it out.

At some point the switch in his brain flipped and he started directing people, the authority shining through in his voice as he sent people off on their miniature missions. He helped you move to the other sofa, leaving the shattered glass behind. There were a million different feelings coursing through you as you watched the clubhouse get turned into a makeshift delivery room. Creeper didn’t leave your side, letting you come close to breaking his hand each time another contraction hit. Through every one he kept his voice calm and level, and if you hadn’t been so overwhelmed you would’ve made a point to thank him. That was the farthest thing from your mind, though.

Neither of you explicitly said anything, but at one point you and Bishop looked at each other and simultaneously recognized that the two of you were going to be a whole different kind of close once this was all over with. You trusted Bishop with your life, like you did with everyone in the MC, but this was going to be a whole new level.

“Hey!” Creeper shouted over the hustle and bustle of the clubhouse, “If you’re not Bishop, or Y/N, get the fuck out.”

You choked out a laugh at the bluntness of his statement. You couldn’t pretend that you weren’t relieved by it though—the last thing you wanted was an audience for this. Once everyone began filing out, he returned his attention to you, gently wiping the sweat off of your forehead.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he nodded encouragingly, “I love you.”

Everything fell away into an extremely painful and exhausting blur. Time meant nothing to you as the three of you got through the whole ordeal together. Each of you was in uncharted territory. The two of them hid their nerves and uncertainty well, knowing that you had enough to worry about without them adding to the stress.

Bishop took a deep breath as he looked at you. He tried desperately to remember what it was like to be in the delivery room all those years ago, trying to channel the reassurance that the doctors emitted despite the fact that he was wildly unqualified, “Y/N, it’s time to push.”

You were already exhausted, sweating and crying and in pain. The thought of getting through this last stretch almost felt like too much. But when you felt Creeper bracing his hand against your back, his other hand gripping yours tight, you got the slightest bit of a second wind.

Truthfully, you almost blacked out from the pain. At one point you were certain that you broke Creeper’s entire hand and that he wouldn’t be able to ride again from the damage done. Somehow, miraculously, Bishop managed to keep his composure throughout the entire thing. Going through this with you felt like it was much higher stakes than anything he had ever done with the MC. The amount of adrenaline in his system was unreal and he had no idea how he was able to keep his hands steady. Both his and Creeper’s voices sounded extra soothing and reassuring. Focusing on that and your breathing were the only things keeping you tethered to reality as your body became overwhelmed with everything that was happening to it.

You groaned in pain, tears streaming down your face as you locked your fingers around Creeper’s hand, giving one last push. You collapsed backwards, unable to stop your crying as you tried and failed to catch your breath. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your head as your mind and body tried to sort out everything that it was going through.

Everything else immediately faded away when you heard the sound of your baby crying for the first time. You sat upright, fresh tears in your eyes as you looked at Bishop and the baby. This time, Creeper was the one giving your hand a squeeze.

Bishop carefully wrapped the baby in a blanket and walked towards you, there was a smile on his face, “She’s beautiful.”

A sob slipped past your lips as you held out your arms to take her, a smile taking over your entire face as Bishop gently handed her over to you. You looked at her, unable to believe that you really did it. Glancing over at Creeper, you saw the tears in his eyes as well. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, reaching out to gently rest her tiny little hand on top of his.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” he gave Creeper’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he walked to leave the clubhouse.

It was just the three of you in the silence of the empty clubhouse. You sniffled, tears still staining your face as you smiled down at your baby. You looked over at your husband, “You wanna hold her?”

It was the first time that he looked up at you, the first time he was able to pry his eyes off of his daughter, “Yea, yea,” his voice was soft and you could tell that he was trying to keep his emotions in check.

You carefully handed her over to him and you could see his entire demeanor shift as he held her. From the second he cradled her in his arms he was an entirely different man. He was whispering things to her that not even you could hear. You rested one hand on his shoulder, shifting your gaze back and forth between him and your daughter.

“We did it, Neron,” your voice was quiet, a little hoarse, “We did it.”

He looked up at you, a smile on his face, “You did it, Mama,” he leaned over and gave you a quick, light kiss on the lips, “You did so good.”

“How’s your hand?” you smiled.

He chuckled, returning his gaze to the baby, “I’ll live,” he glanced up at you, “Not bad for a lockdown delivery, huh?”

You shook your head, “Not bad. Might have to keep Bish on the hook for the next one.”

His eyes lit up, “Next one?”

You leaned against him, “Yea,” you gazed at your daughter, reaching over to trace your thumb lightly along her cheek, “Think your hand can survive another delivery?”

“Anything for you,” he turned his head and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “I love you.”

You smiled, unable to take your eyes off of the baby, “I love you too.”

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