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spine-buster · 3 years

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Epilogue 2: A Queen’s Crown

A/N: I know this one is a bit short. One more epilogue to go, and if you missed my update, it will be posted THIS WEDNESDAY at 7:30pm. We’re ending the disaster that was 2020 with Aberdeen and Willy!

January 2023

Aberdeen Bloom was freaking the fuck out.

Anna Wintour just walked into the room.

“Miss Bloom! Hello,” she greeted, her signature accent filling the room as her dress swayed back and forth. Every stylish, her boots clacked against the floor as she approached the photographer and set where Aberdeen was about to pose on a beautifully crafted, eccentrically pink upholstered couch in front of styled bookcases holding hundred-year-old editions of books.

“Hello Ms. Wintour,” Aberdeen said as confidently as she could, shaking Anna’s hand. Her own dress – a black, high-neck midi-length dress with sheer long sleeves and hand applied golden crystals she was styled in that morning – sparkled in the light of the room. “It’s an honour to meet you. Thank you for the profile.”

“It’s not every day a woman sets a record in the writing world,” Anna said. “I would be a fool not to profile the youngest person to ever receive a Booker Prize for fiction.”

Aberdeen smiled. Every time she heard that – the youngest person to ever receive a Booker Prize for fiction – she had to pinch herself. She truly believed her life wasn’t real over these past few years. Most authors dreamt of being nominated for awards. Her first book was longlisted for the two biggest literary awards in Canada. Her second book, published by Coach House again but then picked up by Knopf and published internationally, had won the two biggest literary awards in Canada and had just won the Booker Prize for Fiction, the most prestigious literary award in the world. She was living in a dream world.

“And you must be the new fiancé,” Anna said, motioning over to where William was standing just out of shot, watching the photoshoot about to begin. “Pleasure to meet you. You must be in town to face the Rangers.”

“You as well,” William approached her to shake her hand. “You made my fiancée’s dream come true with this profile.”

“Well considering how fashionable she’d been on the book tour,” Anna shrugged her shoulders, as if to say it was so obvious to have her in the pages of Vogue. “I know some of the editors here kept tabs on it. Did you employ a stylist?”

“No ma’am,” Aberdeen giggled slightly. If Anna Wintour was about to compliment her on her style, she was going to drop dead.

“Impressive,” Anna nodded. “Now let’s see the ring.”

Aberdeen held out her left hand. Anna inspected the ring like a gemologist. When William proposed with it, Aberdeen was blown away. He’d designed it himself. A 4 carat round diamond in a twisted halo design and pavé band. It quite literally looked like a flower in bloom. And for Aberdeen’s eyes only, an inscription on the inside of the band in the most delicate handwriting. “Stunning,” she said, turning to the photographer. “Make sure you get it.”

“Of course, Ms. Wintour.”

Anna side-stepped to inspect the set. She took one last look at Aberdeen in her dress and high heels and perfectly waved hair and perfectly applied makeup. Anna gave her an up-down and suddenly Aberdeen became nervous. Anna looked towards the stylist. “We need a crown. Crowns.”

“Crown? Crowns? Multiple?”

“Her novel is titled A Queen’s Crown. She’s the youngest woman – person – to win the Booker Prize for fiction. Surely she should wear a crown in her photoshoot.”

“I—I’ll go into the closet,” the stylist nodded, hurrying out of the room.

Anna turned once more to Aberdeen. “Enjoy.”

***

March 2023

“I’m not about to be murdered by Orla Bloom for not having our wedding in a Catholic Church,” William said as he stuffed pasta into his mouth at the dinner table.

“But you’re not Catholic,” Aberdeen tried to explain to him, again. “You don’t understand what we’ll have to go through to get married in a Catholic Church. There are classes – like legit marriage classes we have to take. And we have to get, like, permission from the diocese to enter into the marriage and follow a Catholic wedding forma—”

“Listen to me,” William said, interrupting her. He grabbed her hand from across the table to calm her down. He knew how stressed she was getting about getting married, if only because there was Toronto and Sweden and Northern Ireland and Scotland to deal with. That didn’t even factor in hockey, making them only really able to have the wedding within a twelve-week span of the year. That also didn’t factor in her job, which, between book tours and interviews and appearances and writing her next, also created limited time and availability for their wedding date. But when she felt his hand wrap around hers, he saw her visibly relax. “I love you. We could go down to the courthouse right now to get married. But this means a lot to Orla. And I know you won’t say it, but I know how much this means to you, to be married in the same church you went to as a kid in Etobicoke,” he said softly. “So we’re doing it there. No ifs, and, or buts. I’ll take any class I have to in order to marry you. I’ll donate. Give my blood. Whatever. We’re getting married there.”

Aberdeen couldn’t take it. She got up from her seat and moved to sit in William’s lap. She didn’t care that they were at the dinner table, and she didn’t care that William had to push back his chair really quickly to accommodate her. All she wanted to do was melt into him completely. “Thank you so much,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him. “I love you. You know that, right?”

William smiled. “I do. And I love you too. That’s why I gave you that ring.”

***

TALK OF THE TOWN: Booker Prize-winning and Toronto-based author Aberdeen Bloom and William Nylander (you know, of the Toronto Maple Leafs) just bought “the last lot on the Kingsway” – an old 1970s style bungalow empty for some time now. Sources say the couple plan to tear it down (of course) and build their dream home, a Scandinavian-inspired house where Bloom will no doubt produce her next great novels. Bloom and Nylander will be two blocks away from her former and his current boss, Brendan Shanahan, President of the Toronto Maple Leafs. Bloom has always said in interviews that she will never leave Toronto, so it’s fitting that the girl who was born and raised in Etobicoke would buy on one of the city’s most exclusive and coveted streets.

***

May 2023

“Vogue is coming to the wedding? Vogue?! Like…Vogue magazine?!” Aleida asked as she fed a now two-year-old Helena sitting in a high chair. Aberdeen smiled wryly before nodding her head. Aleida was still dumbfounded. “Like…Anna Wintour Vogue magazine. That Vogue magazine.”

“That Vogue magazine,” Aberdeen nodded. “They’re profiling it for an issue, along with my dress fitting. And then when the house is done, they’re going to do a feature on that too.”

Aleida looked towards Bee, who was just as shocked as Aleida was. “We need to go shopping for new dresses.”

“We definitely need to go shopping for new dresses,” Bee agreed. “I better let Aryne know too.”

“Guys, it’s still like, two years away. We set the date for August 23rd, 2025,” Aberdeen smiled as she reminded them. “You will have plenty of time. Plenty.”

“I don’t know about that. Weddings creep up on you quick,” Bee joked. Aberdeen completely understood where she was coming from. Bee and Morgan were getting married in July. William and Aberdeen were invited, of course, and would be going. Bee spoke a lot about the planning the past few months and always gave updates whenever the girls were all together. “I mean, I thought a year would be plenty of time for the wedding. And it is, don’t get me wrong…but it definitely came sooner than I thought!”

“You need to get the venue sorted now before anything else,” Aleida offered. “You’re two years out so you should honestly have your choice in place. But I don’t think there’s any venue in this city that would turn you down.”

“We’ve already booked,” Aberdeen smiled wryly. She was just full of surprises for the girls today. They looked at her, waiting for a response. “The Aria ballroom at the Four Seasons,” she revealed.

“Ooooooooooh,” both women cooed simultaneously at the revelation. Even Helena join in on the sound. “That will look stunning,” Aleida commented. “I can see it now – those floor-to-ceiling windows with flowers hanging and—”

“—don’t forget the drapery over the dancefloor—” Bee offered.

“—the drapery over the dancefloor—”

“—and the centrepieces…big, tall arrangements that stretch up—”

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Aberdeen held her hands up gently, causing Bee and Aleida to stop momentarily. Aberdeen paused for dramatic effect. “We’ve gotta write all this stuff down.”

The girls smiled and wiggled in their seats excitedly. “I’m giving you Rachel’s number,” Bee said, immediately mentioning her florist. “Your last name’s Bloom. There’s gotta be a shit ton of flowers at this wedding.”

***

July 2023

Aberdeen had tears in her eyes as she watched Morgan and Bee say “I do”. William had been holding her hand throughout the entire ceremony, rubbing the back of it gently with his own thumb. When they finally had their first kiss, it was the only point he let go so he could whistle loudly and clap and cheer. Bee looked extraordinary in her lace dress. Aberdeen could only imagine what would be in store for her when she went wedding dress shopping.

When the reception began, Aberdeen couldn’t help but get even more emotional. Knowing what Bee had gone through in her life, and seeing her dance with Morgan for their first dance made some tears fall down her cheeks. William noticed almost immediately, even though he was behind her; he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly and nestled his head onto her shoulder. “That’ll be us soon,” he whispered.

Aberdeen nodded her head. “I know. I’m so excited.”

“I love you so much. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

“And I can’t wait for you to be my husband.”

“And baby daddy. Don’t forget baby daddy,” he joked.

Aberdeen giggled. She knew he said that to make her laugh, because even though these were tears of joy, he didn’t like to see her cry. “Baby daddy too,” she nodded. “I can’t wait to have a thousand more little Nylanders running around Etobicoke.”

“We’re going to take over the world.”

***

August 23rd, 2025

Aberdeen looked at her dad as he held his arm out for her to grab. He looked so spiffy in his suit, and every time she saw him today, he had a giant smile on his face. It hadn’t left since their early morning wake up call to get hair and makeup done. He’d cried when he saw her in her dress for the first time. Now, if it was even possible, his smile was even wider. “Ready, sweetheart?” he asked.

Aberdeen nodded, linking her arm with her father’s. “I love you so much, dad.”

“I love you too, Aberdeen. Every day I thank my lucky stars for you and Siena and Camden. You’ve brought so much light to my life.”

Aberdeen’s bridesmaids had already walked out – Jacquie, Stephanie, Daniella, Kasha, and Siena as her maid of honour. She knew Alex would be standing beside William at the front of the aisle, with Camden (now a smart-as-a-whip-16 year old) and some of his cousins there too. The music began playing. She took a deep breath. The doors opened.

As she walked down the aisle with her father, she saw a lot of familiar faces. Morgan and Bee, of course, cradling a six-month-old Andy. Fred and Aleida, with a four-year-old Helena in the cutest little tutu-style dress. Auston, John and Aryne, Zach and Alannah, Joe with his wife and kids, Pierre, Rasmus, Mitch and Steph, Jake, Courtney, and Luna, Justin and Audrey – so many of the Leafs. Beth Zadakis. Her editor from Coach House Books. Her editor from Knopf. Jason, Jennifer, and their four girls. Brendan and his wife. Her grandparents, who came in all the way from Northern Ireland. Michael and Camilla. Her mom.

And of course, William. William, who was wiping tears away from his eyes. William, who looked so dapper in his tux. William.

Her William.

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seanfalco · 3 years

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Want | Priest!Kay x Reader {Part I}

Fandom: Season of the Witch Modern!AU Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None yet, other than maybe some sacrilege? (I’m not Catholic and I know this is probably not going to be everyone’s cup of tea) but there will be smut in later parts.

a/n: I got this prompt (below) & at first wasn’t sure what to do for it, until @midnightseance inspired the idea & @immortalled encouraged me to go for it lol. Thank you two for being my sounding boards 💛

Prompt: Initially I wasn’t gonna request anything because I... didn’t really have anything in mind but then I had a brain blast. I request you writing something you’ve really wanted to write but maybe have talked yourself out of. Like something you thought no one would want- like this is your sign this is your signal. I want to read it! Watching you write something your heart is fully in is one of my favorite things i’ve seen since following you. It doesn’t matter what it is I want to see it!!

Requested by: Anonymous

masterlist

You’d always thought Catholic churches were gorgeous — the architecture, the sculptures, the stained glass windows — so why did you feel this gut churning sense of dread at the sight as you approached.

“You sure I’m not gunna burst into flame as soon as we cross the threshold, like in some sort of horror movie?” you leaned in to whisper in your fiance’s ear and he scoffed.

“If that actually happened in real life, then I probably would’ve spontaneously combusted years ago,” he answered wryly, his eyes flicking to his parents on his other side.

“Right,” you muttered, taking a deep breath as you passed through the large double doors with the rest of the parishioners.

The inside was just as beautiful as the outside and you gaped at the sprawling windows, glittering colourfully as the sun hit them just right, while trying not to think about how anxious you felt. As you filed into the pew with your fiance and his parents, you could feel eyes on you from all sides as people whispered under their breath.

“Is that Matthew’s fiance? She looks rather plainer than I’d expected.”

“Is it true they’re having the ceremony here? She’s not even Catholic.”

“Well, she must be converting.”

Sinking down in the pew, you felt very out of place, and it was obvious to those around you that you were an outsider. You’d never been to a Catholic Mass before, much less any church service, really, and truth be told you weren’t really sure if you even believed or not, but this was what your fiance’s family wanted, though you knew he didn’t really care either way.

Matthew wasn’t exactly what you’d call a good Catholic boy — you’d definitely performed several cardinal sins with him already: sex before marriage, masturbation, use of contraceptives, the list goes on. But either way it wasn’t like you had much of a choice in the matter, you were joining the Catholic Church for better or for worse.

Soon the service began and you listened quietly, trying to pay attention, but amidst all the standing, sitting, and kneeling, you were getting dizzy trying to remember it all, and you tried to follow your fiance’s lead, but you were always a beat behind the rest, feeling more self conscious by the minute.

What are you doing here? you asked yourself for about the tenth time, grimacing as you quickly sat once more, glancing around hastily. It was obvious you didn’t belong, and your fiance didn’t even seem to care. In fact, he didn’t seem to be paying attention at all.

And that was when you saw him, quite possibly the last person you had expected to see.

Stepping up to the pulpit, he was dressed in black robes and a white collar, but you’d recognize him anywhere -- those wild curls, kind eyes, and breathtaking smile.

Kay.

Your Kay— no, not anymore. He’d gone to seminary school and you were marrying someone else, remember?

He was older now, and even from where you sat you could see the faint lines creasing his face, but he was still as gorgeous as you remembered him and your heart constricted for a moment as memories assailed you, overwhelming you — of awkward fumblings in the back of your car, of stumbled “I love you’s” for the first time, of —

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

Matthew’s voice in your ear snapped you out of your thoughts and you weren’t sure if you were grateful or annoyed.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you replied, trying to compose yourself, though you still felt like you couldn’t quite catch your breath.

“You went white as a sheet,” Matthew answered with a frown and you shook your head, your eyes returning to Kay.

“Is that your Priest?” you asked instead and your fiance glanced at you curiously.

“Yeah, he’s pretty new though, why?”

“He’s uhm, he’s just so… so young,” you whispered, stumbling over your words. “I thought priests were usually supposed to be, you know… old?”

Matthew snorted softly. “Don’t tell me you have the hots for him too.”

“What?” you hissed, glancing past him to see if his parents had overheard; they hadn’t seemed to and Matthew merely looked amused.

“Oh yeah, he’s rather popular with the other church girls, but I can’t see it,” he scoffed and your lips twitched angrily.

“I dunno, I can see the appeal,” you murmured under your breath. “I think he’s rather handsome.”

Your fiance rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever,” he mumbled and you ignored him, turning back to the front. For a moment Kay’s gaze seemed to pass over you and he froze, his words dying on his tongue as he faltered, his eyes going wide with shock, and he hastily cleared his throat, unable to look away.

Smiling uncertainly, you met his gaze and his reaction seemed to answer the unvoiced question that had been plaguing you since he’d stepped up to the pulpit.

Clearly, he remembered you.

What were the odds that he’d be the priest here, you thought, settling back in your seat. It seemed like some sort of cruel cosmic joke, taunting you. Or maybe it’s a sign? a little voice in the back of your head whispered. Maybe, you agreed hesitantly… if you believed in that sort of thing.

——

The rest of the sermon seemed to go by much quicker, though every time Kay’s eyes passed over you he seemed to tense slightly, while your knotted stomach would give a flutter, too lost in memories you hadn’t thought of in years to remember much of the message.

So when your fiance’s mom asked you what you thought of the homily, you had to lie through your teeth, sorry God, and hope she didn’t question you further.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really paying attention either,” Matthew muttered as you filed out of the sanctuary after his parents and turned down a side hall toward the Parish office.

Shit, you thought frantically, you’d almost forgotten you were to meet with the Priest after Mass to speak about converting and beginning that process. Which meant you’d be meeting with Kay. Great.

“Ah, Father, there you are, lovely sermon,” Matthew’s mother exclaimed and you gave a start, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned to find Kay approaching.

Cool it, [y/n], you told yourself, trying to calm your pounding heart. How many years has it been? Besides, you’re getting married and he’s a fucking priest for Christ’s sake —shit, sorry, God. He chose this life over you, remember that.

“Father, this is our soon to be daughter-in-law, [y/n].”

Shit, you were being introduced, say something, [y/n].

Luckily, before you could decide whether to pretend you’d never met before or explain that you already knew each other, Kay was reaching out to shake your hand, and wordlessly you slipped your hand in his.

“How do you do?” he murmured, holding onto you a beat longer than was proper, but you didn’t exactly want to let go either.

“Good, I’m good,” you managed to stammer, his smile still doing things to your pulse.

“So, uhm, shall we step into my office?” he asked, finally letting go of your hand, almost seeming to have forgotten he was still holding it.

“Actually, we’ll be on our way. She’s in your hands now, Father,” your future in-laws exclaimed, and you waved as they exchanged a few more pleasantries before making their exit.

“Do I need to be part of this meeting too?” Matthew asked suddenly, as soon as his parents had gone and you turned to frown at him, sharp suspicion filling you, but you kept your mouth shut and swallowed it, not wanting to cause a scene in front of Kay.

“I… I suppose not,” Kay answered hesitantly, and a look of relief flashed across your fiance’s face.

“Sorry to run. I’ll see you later, hun,” he exclaimed, planting a distracted kiss to the top of your head before striding away, already pulling his phone from his pocket and you scowled after him.

“Sure, make me go through all this for you and then don’t even stick around,” you muttered under your breath as you watched him go.

“Er… shall we?” Kay prompted, holding his office door open and you gave a small jolt, shaking yourself out of your thoughts to enter the dark room, Kay reaching for the light switch as he followed.

“Have a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the set of chairs facing his desk before hanging up his robes and taking a seat as well, facing you. “[y/n],” he exclaimed, familiarity leeching into his voice now that you were alone. “To say I’m surprised to see you here would be a bit of an understatement.”

“That makes two of us,” you replied, looking around his office.

“It’s been so long,” he murmured, gazing down at his hands, “you look so —it’s uh, it’s good to see you,” he said, cutting himself off and you desperately wished you knew what he had been going to say instead.

“You look good,” you replied, offering him a hesitant smile, your eyes flicking over him. “Am I supposed to call you Father, or--? Because, I’ll be honest, that’s kinda weird,” you admitted, and Kay grimaced slightly.

“I mean technically you’re supposed to, but…” he paused to clear his throat, “—I agree, it is a little … strange,” he admitted as well and you were glad to see he hadn’t changed too much.

“Right? It’s too close to calling you ‘daddy’,” you muttered, realizing too late what you’d just said, feeling your face heat with embarrassment, as across from you, Kay had turned nearly as red as you felt, and he quickly cleared his throat, hooking his finger under his collar in discomfort.

“Let’s uhm, let’s talk about what you’ll need to do to join the Church,” he said, quickly changing the subject and you heaved a breath, thankful to ignore that awkwardness.

“Right, yeah,” you agreed. “So, what exactly do I have to do?”

Composing himself, Kay folded his hands atop his desk. “Well, usually new converts wishing to become baptized in the Catholic Church have to attend a series of classes for nearly a year—“

“A year?” you yelped, cutting him off, your eyes widening at the thought.

“—But,” Kay continued wryly, “we usually make exceptions for those marrying into the Church, letting them join on a more condensed timeline, opting for uh...private lessons,” he explained, his voice constricting at the word private.

“So… you’re saying I’ll be taking one on one lessons... with you?” you asked, chewing the inside of your lip. This sounds like a bad idea.

You were already painfully aware of the fact that you’d never truly gotten over your feelings for Kay and now you’d be spending one on one time with him on a weekly basis, all the while knowing it was only so you could enter into a marriage you didn’t truly want. Already your heart was racing and your mind was reeling with memories all clamoring for your attention.

You didn’t know if you could do this. If you should do this.

But part of you wanted to, if only to be close to him again.

“Will that… be a problem?” Kay asked slowly, as if he had to force the words out.

“No,” you answered quickly, “no, that sounds good.”

Liar.

“Are-are you sure? I mean, with our, ahh… history, I wouldn’t want —“

“I don’t want anyone else.”

At your words Kay’s eyes widened and you could practically hear his breath hitch from where you sat and for a moment neither of you spoke, the words hanging in the air like a confession and you felt your face once more grow hot.

“I mean, I don’t want anyone else for a teacher,” you amended, clutching your hands together in your lap.

I want you.

“Oh, y-yes, that’s… that’s good,” Kay murmured, taking a deep breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “We’ll start next week then.”

You nodded as you stood. “Sounds good to me.”

“[y/n]—“

Opening his office door, you hesitated, glancing back at him as he quickly called your name.

“Yes… Father?”

Kay swallowed thickly. “It… it truly is good to see you again.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, it is. Til next week, then.”

———————

Everything Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @etherealsxnder @iamsexytrash @orions-nebula @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @misskittysmagicportal

#season of the witch #kay #kay x reader #priest!kay x reader #robert sheehan character fic #fic: want #my writing #priest kink tw

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thepointoftheneedle · 3 years

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Happy New Year!

I wrote a little New Year’s Eve one shot. It’s below the cut or you can read it on AO3 here. (I’ve started a collection of short pieces just to keep things tidy.) I hope you are all able to celebrate safely and I wish you a healthy and happy 2021.

It was obvious that the party was going off the rails as soon as Archie started lining up shots along the whole length of the marble counter top. He called Reggie out and Reggie never backed down from a challenge to his machismo so they both worked their way along the little bullets of stupid until, breathless and belly laughing, they slid to the floor, their eyes swivelling in their dumb skulls like cartoon coyotes that had just been smashed over the head with an Acme anvil. It was nine fifteen. Betty had wondered if Veronica would be mad about it but she seemed in the mood for some chaos as she set up two more lines of glasses opposite each other on the counter and challenged Cheryl who had never met an unnecessary drama she didn’t like.

Betty had drunk a very pleasant glass of good champagne and had been contemplating having a couple more before midnight. She’d never been a big drinker so for her that was cutting loose. It had been, to put it crudely, a shit-show of a year and she was glad to see the back of it. At the last New Year’s party she had been showing off a dazzling engagement ring, about to start the job that she had been expensively and laboriously trained for and she and her intended had signed the lease on a cute and well appointed apartment in Sunset Park which everyone said was the up and coming neighbourhood. The world had been unfolding for her like a flower. Then the frost had come and scorched the petals with its chill. This year she was single, her job sometimes felt like it was eating her up and that cute apartment burned through every cent of her pay check now she had to make the rent alone. It was possible that she was the saddest girl in a cocktail dress on the whole island of Manhattan, she was certainly the soberest person at the party.

An hour later the shots were completely out of hand and Betty had only just prevented Ethel from throwing up into the piano. Moose made some half hearted effort to restore order, offering glasses of water, trying to start a game of Charades, but Kevin was in too mischievous a mood for his efforts to bear any fruit and instead they were embarking on Drunk Jenga, the rules of which seemed to be that you took a shot whenever you removed a block and then another when you placed it on top of the stack. She imagined you took a shot if the tower fell but she didn’t stick around to find out. She sidled over to where the Pol Roger was stacked, neglected, in its very own champagne refrigerator and helped herself while everyone else was supporting the economy of Mexico by the prodigious consumption of Patron Silver.

She took her recharged glass to the window and looked out at the snowy expanse of Central Park far below. It looked like the idealised interior of a snow globe, the air glassy and still and a huge yellow moon surveying its domain. Betty remembered walking through the park with Trev last Christmas, bundled in a thick coat and scarf. They’d held hands inside one of his mittens. They’d made snow angels. They’d skated at the Wollman Rink and drunk hot chocolate afterwards. Her life had been a cover image from a romance novel. This year she had spent Christmas being patronised by Polly’s constant offers of introductions to a succession of Jason’s frat brothers and golfing buddies. Eventually she’d pointed out that if she’d wanted some obstructionist, bigoted blowhard she could have found one herself, without Polly’s oh so sympathetic intervention. Polly cried and Betty apologised but she still wasn’t going to go on a date with a junior vice president of acquisitions even if he did have a weekend place in Connecticut. She wouldn’t tolerate being paraded in front of prospective suitors like a prize dairy cow at the county show, not by Veronica and certainly not by her sister.

As she reminisced she became aware of Archie and Veronica deep in conversation in the corner of the room. “We have a teeny emergenshy,” Veronica said, her hand on Archie’s forearm. Veronica was never less than perfectly composed but that slur at the end of her word and the ramped up sincerity gave her away to her best friend. She was sozzled. “Only two bottles of Patron left and then the cupboard is bare. I may have over-ordered on the fizz and neglected the tequila.”

Archie nodded, taking the situation as seriously as his wife. Then some kind of light dawned on his handsome face. “We’ll get the magic doorman to get us some. He’ll be on duty now. I’ll go slip him a fifty and he’ll take care of it.” He turned to reach for his wallet and promptly fell on his face. It was ten to eleven and all was decidedly not well.

Betty went over to help Archie off the rug. He grinned even though his nose was bloody. “Ronnie, Betty’s all sober and sensible. She can go talk to the wizard. Here Betty, here’s fifty for a tip and Ronnie’ll give you her credit card for the booze. Okay? Shit I’m bleeding… still it’s not a party til something gets broke.”

V was looking at her imploringly now. Somewhere there was the sound of glass smashing and Monroe’s attempt to do chin ups on the kitchen doorframe seemed to be bringing plaster down on the floor. Betty would rather be almost anywhere than right here so she nodded at her friend. "What do you need V?”

V explained that the building’s night doorman was a kind of fixer. When Tom in 204 had forgotten his wife’s birthday Jones had got him a gluten free chiffon cake iced with her name at two thirty on a Thursday morning along with a bouquet of out of season narcissuses....narcissi? When the little boy in 116 had told his mama at midnight that he needed a George Washington costume for school the next day the night doorman had sourced it, complete with powdered wig, before the little tyke had finished his cheerios. When V had realised an hour before her 5.15 a.m. flight to Miami that she had completely forgotten her niece’s confirmation gift he had sourced a personalised Catholic Bible bound in white leather which he handed to her as she got into her cab. “He’s a miracle worker B. Just tell him we need a case…no two cases of Patron Silver before midnight. Give him the fifty but tell him I’ll make it a hundred if he can fix it by eleven thirty. OK?”

“Sure. On my way.”

She travelled down in the elevator imagining the doorman. He’d be some old guy in a uniform with gold braid on the chest. He probably knew all the residents and their dogs by name and had one of those old timey extended families so that he could reach out to Cousin Ike for last minute birthday cakes or get his nephew’s wife to sew a costume at no notice. She needed a fixer herself since her life seemed so broken. She wondered what he could do for a lonely woman who was trying to work out if getting a cat was too much of an admission that she had given up.

As she stepped out into the lobby she was slightly taken aback by the mismatch between her expectations and reality. He was behind the reception desk, dark head bowed over a laptop, no braid in evidence, no grey whiskers or paunch, just this dark, poetic looking guy in a black sweater. She approached the desk and he looked up at her, fingers still flying over the keys without him needing to glance down. He seemed to reach a natural pause, closed the lid of the laptop and smiled politely. “Yes ma’am, how can I help?” His eyes were blue. They seemed to look through her probably thinking she was just another rich girl bringing him problems. He must get that a lot.

“Yeah, hi, I’m a guest of Mr and Mrs Lodge Andrews up in the penthouse. They’re having a little New Year's Eve party and they’re running low on liquor. They wondered if you could source them a couple of cases of…”

“Patron Silver? Yes ma’am, of course. Who should I charge it to?” She had no idea how he could have known what she was going to ask for. It made her want to say that they wanted Stolichnaya or absinthe or something, just to surprise him but she’d been sent for Patron and Patron she would get.

“Oh, yes, I have a credit card.” She handed it over, “and Mr Andrews said to give you this for the trouble.” She passed him the fifty, embarrassed.

“No incentive to get it here before the coaches turn into pumpkins?” he asked, eyebrow raised. She thought he was making fun of her but she couldn’t be sure.

“Oh yes, that’s right. Veronica said another $50 if it’s here by eleven thirty.”

“Okay ma’am. I’ll buzz up when it’s here. If that’s all.”

“Oh please don’t call me ma’am. I’m Betty.”

“I’m Jones... Jughead. Nickname. Long dull story.” He raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering why she was still standing in front of his desk.

“Look, it’s a little crazy up there. Would it be okay if I just stay down here for a minute? Just say if it’s inconvenient. I don’t want to disturb you if you’re busy.” She didn’t think she could bear to be the responsible adult at Veronica’s party for a moment longer. Here it was quiet and no one needed her to hold back their hair while they were getting sick.

“Busy getting hold of twelve bottles of good tequila on New Year's Eve but that’s all. I just need to make a call. Excuse me.” He stood and walked away from the desk, his back turned to her. It was a good back. He was wearing the black sweater over grey slacks with a key chain hanging from one of his belt loops. He had broad shoulders but his neck was fine, not thick and meaty like the guys who needed to lift weights to manufacture some self esteem. He was slim at the waist and the hips, long legs, tall. The hair was the USP though, dark waves of it tumbling freely as he dragged long fingers through it, waiting for someone to pick up his call. Finally he yelled “Hey Toni. Yeah, two cases of Patron Silver asap. Yeah, I’d noticed that but mark it up. Can Sweetpea drop it over? Yeah right now. Hey, ask him to get me a burger on the way too.” He turned and looked at Betty with a questioning look and she shrugged and nodded, “Two, make it two. Ok, thanks Toni. Yeah you too. See you Sunday.”

He ended the call and made his way back to the desk. “My pal Toni runs a bar,” he explained with a grin.

“Veronica says you’re magic, a wizard,” she told him.

“Nothing occult about it. I’m just observant, that’s all.”

“Seems magical to produce a George Washington costume overnight,” she countered.

“Oh well, that was a lucky break. My sister’s a textile artist. A struggling one. I gave her the brief and she knocked up the costume in a few hours. Now all the upper east side mommies have her business card and she can afford to buy materials and pay her rent. She had to pull an all nighter but it paid off pretty big in the end.”

“Birthday cake? Out of season flowers?”

“The husband’s kind of a dick. He forgot last year too. They had a fight about it in this very lobby so I wrote down the date and got ready to save his bacon. If he’d remembered the date I’d have had cake for my breakfast and sent my sister a bunch of flowers. As it was I made a couple hundred bucks.”

Betty was laughing now at the smug look on his face. “So you could have reminded him beforehand?”

“Could have, but maybe the expense’ll help him remember next time. Anyway if the doorman knows more about your wife than you do it might be time to review your priorities.”

“Ok but what about the Bible? That seems pretty miraculous.”

“Actually it’s kind of the opposite. The kid’s confirmation name is Maria. Hardly original. My buddy Joaquin’s little sister was confirmed a few months ago. Her confirmation name’s Maria. She hadn’t made a whole lot of use of the Bible. Your pal paid me three hundred, Joaquin’s kid sister got two hundred in her college fund.”

“Seems like the side hustles are more remunerative than the pay check,” Betty observed.

“It’s all a side hustle. I’m a writer. This job’s kept me supplied with characters and plot lines and given me eight hours of mostly uninterrupted writing time.”

Betty flushed pink and jumped up from the corner of the desk where she had been leaning. “Oh I’m so sorry. Here I am wasting your time. I’ll be on my way.”

“No, wait,” he reached out and put his hand on her arm. It tingled. “I didn’t mean it like that. This is research. Maybe I’ll put you in my next book. The sad girl in a party frock who’d rather be in the lobby than with her friends at a party being kissed for New Year.”

“There’s no-one to kiss up there,” she confessed with a sad smile and then, without having any idea why, she said “I broke up with my fiancé last February.”

“Aha,” he said. “There’s the plot. Tell me.”

“He’s great. A really good guy. Kind, loyal, handsome. Everything I should have wanted. Any girl would be lucky to have him. I think I broke his heart.”

“Why?”

“We started to plan the wedding and I wanted to run away. I couldn’t bear to think about it. Then one day I found myself imagining what I’d do if something bad happened that prevented it, like if he got sick or if I was in a car accident or something. It was pretty clear that I couldn’t go through with it if I preferred the idea of one of us being in a coma to the idea of my wedding day.”

“Cold feet?”

“Oh freezing but it wasn’t just nerves. When I imagined being married to him I couldn’t see myself, I was just a blank. It was… I don’t know how to say it…like I was finished. I’d never be anything more than I was, never change or grow or struggle. It was all too easy. No grit in the oyster. I know it’s crazy.”

“You didn’t say it was you not him did you? You didn’t do that to him?” He was smiling at her, sympathising not mocking.

She blushed. “I did. All the clichés. How could I explain? I don’t even understand it myself.”

“I understand it. You want to find out who you can be and he couldn’t give you that. He was happy with who you were, didn’t want you to change. He was probably scared of losing you. Anyone would be.” He looked at her with an intensity that made her nervous so she tried to change the subject.

“A writer then? What do you write?”

“Mostly mystery stories. Magazines and online so far but I’ve just got a publisher for the novel. I’m going to quit this next year. What do you do?”

“I’m a psychologist. I work with kids who are in trouble. Try to get them back on track. I love it but it’s hard sometimes. I hear things that it’s tough to leave at the office.”

“You need to take care of you first. You can’t save someone if you aren’t safe yourself. ”

“Writer or life coach?” she smiled.

He chuckled. “Sorry. I’m not good at small talk. I get too intense too fast and freak people out. Oh hey, cometh the man, cometh the tequila.”

A tall guy in a leather jacket was pulling boxes out of the back of a truck that he’d illegally bumped up the curb outside.. He looked a little scary. Once he was in the lobby she saw that he had a snake tattooed on his neck. He fist bumped Jughead and then pulled him into a side hug. “Hey man. Happy new year and all that. Hey,” he said, noticing Betty for the first time.

“Hey. Thanks so much for bringing it over. There’s a whole apartment full of drunk idiots upstairs just waiting to make themselves sick on it. Oh!” He turned back to Betty, aghast at what he’d said. “Sorry Betty.”

“You’ll not get an argument from me. That’s why I’m down here talking to you.”

Neck tattoo laughed and held out his hand “Sweetpea. Pleasure doing business with you.” He turned back to Jughead, “So I have to get back, I’m supposed to be on the door at the Wyrm. See you Sunday?”

“Burgers?” Jug reminded him and his friend nodded, trotting back to the truck to grab a take out bag and toss it back to Jughead who snatched it from the air like a dolphin snatching a fish at Seaworld.

Betty buzzed up to the penthouse to get one of the assembled jocks to come and collect two cases of tequila and bring down a bottle of Pol Roger and the promised fifty dollars. It was eleven twenty four. Ten minutes later she was sitting on the reception desk eating a burger, washing it down with $200 champagne. “This is the best New Year's Eve I’ve ever had,” she grinned, a little disinhibited by the bubbles.

“Weren’t you engaged last year?”

“This is much better. I was pretending last year. Now I’m just being me.”

“I always find that works better. The not pretending bit. Especially not with someone you can love.”

She certainly wasn’t pretending at eleven fifty nine when she reached out to him and he took her in his arms and kissed her softly as cheers and yells rang out from the parties all over the city and fireworks exploded high above the park, casting confetti of coloured lights across the marble lobby.

As the kiss ended she looked up into his blue eyes, wondering if it was the champagne that was making her blurry and relaxed or if it was him. She thought she’d have to keep on kissing him to know for sure. He really was a fixer though. Her heart felt lighter, hopeful.

He grinned. “Spectacular as that was, this is probably the most surveilled lobby in the city. Can we schedule the repeat for when I’m not actually on the clock?” He gestured at the security cameras covering every inch of the space and she blushed to think that somewhere there was taped evidence of her trying to seduce the sexy doorman.

“Can I stay here and talk to you some more if I promise not to touch?”

“I wish you would. I get off at six and I know a great diner for breakfast. We can tell people our first date was breakfast. They’ll be scandalised.” She couldn’t hold back at the mention of the first date, of them telling people about it, so she kissed him on the cheek before retreating back to the edge of the desk with her hands up.

They talked about her work, his writing, they compiled an ultimate New Year's Eve playlist and top tens of movies and books. She found herself distracted by the fullness of his lips, the expressiveness of his face, the heaviness of the locks of hair that fell forward over his eyes only to be pushed back impatiently. They agreed on almost nothing and that was exactly how she liked it. When she crept up to the penthouse at five thirty to collect her coat and change her party shoes for snow boots, she was met with a scene of devastation. Prostrate bodies sprawled on every flat surface. The two cases of tequila sat unopened in the kitchen, clearly surplus to requirements by the time they had been manifested. She picked her way through the carnage and found the coat closet where Archie had put her things when she’d arrived the night before. Opening the door she noticed the cases of liquor stacked inside, three unopened boxes of Patron among them. She realised that Jug wasn’t the only fixer in the building. She made sure to lean over her sleeping friend to place a kiss on her forehead before she let herself out, locking the door behind her.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead fan fic #New Years

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ahgasescenarios · 4 years

Text

Corrupting the Innocent Pt. 3- Dong Sicheng

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: fluff with hints of angst/suggestive

Plot summary: In which (Y/N) decides to “help” innocent exchange student Sicheng win over his crush. Except she has ulterior motives and Sicheng is too clueless to notice.

A week had passed and here you were, getting comfortable in this environment you had instilled for your lessons, with a different version of Sicheng seated by your side. Apparently, treating the situation as though it was a university course had been the right move- the exchange student wowed you with his completion of the assignment. He even vouched for extra credit, surprising you with a new fashion sense.

Your eyes skimmed over his notes, a full list of attributes on display before your eyes. Hair, eyes, lips, ears and the list went on. You nodded approvingly before handing him back the textbook.

“I’m impressed, bravo.” You paused, gauging his reaction. “How did that exercise feel?”

“Good, honestly. I hadn’t taken the time to think about it before.” He seemed pensive, a different aura about him. Could a week of changing his mindset have done this much?

You reoriented the conversation to the reason you had started this coaching in the first place.

“Now, I want you to tell me something. Have you talked to Rosé before?” He lowered his head, embarrassed.

“Not exactly.”

“Lovey, that’s going to be your assignment for the week.”

“But I’m not ready.” His eyes had taken on two sizes from pure astonishment and dare you say it, fear.

“Sure, you are.” Seeing as your words didn’t have the reassuring effect you had expected them to, you switched gears.

“Here, I’ll help you. Just pretend I’m Rosé.” You wriggled in your seat, getting comfortable for the role.

“This isn’t going to work.” His lip was caught between his teeth now. What you’d give to bite that lip.

“Yes, it is, try it.”

He finally gave in, a familiar love-shaped glimmer traveling across his eyes when he angled them back towards you.

“Hi, Sicheng.” You coaxed him into a “natural” flow of conversation.

“Hi, Rosé. What’s- um, how are you?” He scratched the back of his neck. Adorable.

“I’m great! You?”

“Um, good. Thanks.” Silence thickened the air in the room for a second, both of you standing awfully still. Sicheng was entranced by this meager roleplaying and he reached over to you, caressing your cheek lovingly. The way he was looking at you almost made you rethink your plan. You pulled back admittedly not soon enough. Why was your heart beating so fast?

“See, you’re ready.” You smiled at him encouragingly. His mind felt elsewhere, though.

“Yeah, um I should get going. I have an exam Monday so.” His vibe was off, but you dismissed him, brushing the awkwardness aside. You had probably just been nervous because of the sexual tension between you two. The newfound confidence did multiply his already obvious sex appeal (or potential, in his case).

You retired to your bedroom for the rest of the evening, alienated from the rest of the world as you rolled reruns of your favorite tv shows, barely even acknowledging the outside world. An incoming text message jolted your phone awake, only slightly capturing your attention.

Have you gotten him laid yet?

You sighed. I wish, you thought.

No, I have to keep pretending that I’m setting him up with you.

Rosé: How long are you going to keep this up for?

You shrugged; you didn’t have an answer. What Sicheng didn’t know was that you were actually friends with Rosé, and she was in on the whole thing. This scheming was what kept you two close, toying with people so they wouldn’t toy with you. Rosé shared the same view as you when it came to people and relationships which had made it easier for you to form this dynamic duo. Plus, none of her friends were keen on her “habits” so you were all she had when it came to this.

How’s project J coming along? You texted. “Project J” was code for her own plans to get Jaehyun in bed, the hot but oh-so-catholic eye candy.

Ugh, don’t get me started. He’s so much of a prude- even at the party, he would barely touch me. I’m sick of the “no sex before marriage” bullshit, I just want to fuck him already.

You could relate to that. If anyone else was reading these texts, they’d probably think you were both horrible people. That didn’t bother you, everyone was a little horrible anyway- you were just more public about it. You enjoyed these games of yours, it spiced up your otherwise rather dull life and kept you feeling alive. There was nothing like manipulating other people’s lives to make you feel in control of your own.

“Sicheng, what are you-“ You had jolted awake at the sound of someone knocking on your door, just now identifying the culprit.

“I did it, I talked to her.” He beamed with excitement; his eyes illuminated with joy. If it wasn’t so damn early, you would’ve faked happiness.

“What did you say?” You rubbed your eyes, trying to rub the fatigue out of them.

“We just talked like we rehearsed and guess what, I’m seeing her tomorrow!” His brows furrowed together. “Do you think she thinks it’s a date?”

“I don’t know Sicheng, it’s too early for ME to think.” You sighed, the word think slowly decomposing to a mess of letters you couldn’t fathom.

“Right, sorry. I should’ve called first.”

“It’s fine.” You squinted your eyes at him, he wasn’t budging from his spot. “Did you need anything else?”

“Um, can I come in actually?” He was biting his lip again, by now you had figure out the habit was the manifestation of his nerves. You stepped aside and opened the door wide.

He was twiddling his thumbs, pacing around your living room. What on Earth has gotten into him?

“Remember at the party when we were in the closet together?” You nodded, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Where was this going? you asked yourself. Your question was soon addressed as a prominent blush overcame his delicate features.

“Did you mean it when you said you would teach me how to kiss?”

You licked your lips, knitting your brows together. This had taken an interesting turn.

“Of course.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Sicheng, have you kissed a girl before?”

His teeth reflexively caught his lip as he timidly shook his head no. A virgin, yours to corrupt. Things just kept getting better and better.

“No need to be embarrassed, I’ll show you.” You offered him your most reassuring smile and he seemed to relax a tad. He sat down on your couch, gaze averting yours. His palms ran down his thighs, his nerves transpiring over every inch of his being. He looked everywhere but at you.

“Honey, this isn’t going to work if you can’t even look at me.”

To this he turned his head back around, eyes boring into yours. Emotions were wrestling each other behind those coffee brown eyes, you could tell.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Making them feel like it was their choice was key.

“Yes.” All hesitation from before had evaporated from his voice, perhaps those scenes before his eyes had given him a pep talk.

You crossed your legs under you, now facing the exchange student. You guided his hand to lay on your waist and he gulped. You rested your hand on his cheek and brought his face closer to yours.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” He nodded and you pressed your lips on his. You gave him a few seconds to get used to your lips on his before you started moving your lips against his. It took all your willpower not to devour him right this instant, it was just too good. He shifted towards you, asserting his hold on your waist. Your lips moved in a steady rhythm against each other’s and Sicheng slowly started to get the hang of it.

You broke away to catch your breath, Sicheng’s eyes following you avidly. You dove back in, deciding to spice things up a bit by sliding your tongue in his mouth. A single yelp resonated into your mouth before he relaxed into the kiss, tentatively adding his tongue as well. He pulled back, not realizing that the lip he had caught between his teeth was yours until you moaned out loud. You quickly covered your mouth with your hand.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” You breathed, truthfully the sound had escaped your mouth unbeknownst to you. You shouldn’t be so careless. The expression scattered on his face was one you had never seen him wear before.

“I’m gonna go.” The air was thick with tension, and not of the sexual kind. You didn’t even protest, cursing yourself for that slip-up. You hoped he wouldn’t make a habit of leaving anytime things got remotely awkward.

You let your thoughts wander as you hopped in the shower. You were enjoying him way too much; it was bordering obsession. It was the first time you had wanted someone this badly before and you weren’t sure how to feel about it.

The next day, your phone buzzed on the counter, the screen illuminating the following words from Rosé:

Next time, could you not involve me in your hook-up projects? Thanks

Right, their “date” was today. If only Sicheng knew…

Rosé was radio silent for the next couple of hours and you busied yourself with household chores, homework and things of the like. Only around dinnertime did you finally hear back from the blonde.

He barely looked at me, let alone talked to me. He seemed completely uninterested in me, weird since he asked ME out. Good work though, you’ll get him laid in no time!

Had your plan already worked? Was he already growing disinterested in Rosé? You found yourself to be the one biting your lip this time. If you had indeed succeeded, why did your heart feel like it had dropped into your stomach?

____________________________________________

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

a/n: hi loves! I just finished this series and I wanted your opinion on smth- did you want me to post the rest sooner than every week? I hope everyone is staying safe and doing well xx

#kpop #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #kpop smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct winwin #wayv winwin #wayv #wayv smut #wayv scenarios #wayv fluff #dong sicheng #winwin scenarios #sicheng scenarios #corrupting the innocent

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wolfpawn · 4 years

Text

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 164

Chapter Summary -Tom and Danielle begin to plan their wedding, the only issue is, they are struggling at even deciding the location.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long. This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

Tom sighed as he looked at the coffee mug in front of him. “So, trouble in paradise?” He looked up at Ben, who sat beside him with his own cup of tea in his hand.

“No, we just were getting bothered by arrangements so we said we’d take an hour or two away from everything to just take a step back before an actual argument took place.”

“Good plan. So, what was the issue?”

“Location.”

“Yeah, Sophie and I spent a while talking about it. I mean, you know how it is with the Isle of Wight, it’s a fucking island, so there was the transport costs, and it’s a holiday resort and it’s expensive to live in, so that doesn’t help but it means something to Sophie’s family and is far easier to police than London, so we went with it in the end. Where are the different options?”

“I want Oxford, it’s where I grew up, maybe even Suffolk, just not London, too open.”

“And Danielle wants?”

“Ireland.”

“Oh, there’s not much room for compromise when there are two different countries involved,” Ben commented.

“It’s impractical. Most everybody that will be at the wedding will have to travel there for it from here, only a few of her family would not have to, and even at that, some of her family are in the States so they will have to travel also, how is that fair?”

“What’s her reasoning for it?”

“What?”

“Why is she pushing for Ireland?” Ben queried.

“I am not even sure.”

“Why, did she just say the country in general, or is it that she is talking about some random area outside of where she is from.”

“No, I think she is talking about Connemara. It just makes so little sense.”

“Well, not exactly. Kuala Lumpur would make little sense, her hometown in her home country at least makes sense.” Ben pointed out. “She did say that for her cousin’s wedding, that the tradition is to have it in the bride’s hometown, has that something to do with it?”

“I don’t know,” Tom recalled the conversation at the awards ceremony with Sophie and Ben a few months previous.

“Well, how about you ask her. If this cannot even get past location, how are you supposed to go any further? This is sort of an integral part of it all.”

“It just all seems so much stress and bother.”

“Most of it is and you wonder what’s the bloody point to it also, but that is all part and parcel of it. At the end of the day, it is worth it if you are both happy and I know, for all of the madness that this entails, you do actually want to marry Danielle.”

Tom nodded. He wanted that, he did not want the madness that it would entail and if he and Danielle could not agree on even something as simple as location, then he worried for it all. “I need to talk to her.”

“Yes.” Ben encouraged.

Tom took out his phone and dialled Danielle’s number.

“Hello? Tom?”

It was clear her phone was not to her ear and that he was on loudspeaker. “Yes, I thought….are you not at home?”

“No, I am in the car, pulled in, obviously. I needed to do some stuff. I thought we were going to take an hour or so to settle?”

“I know, I just...Elle, can I ask, why is it so important to you that it is in Ireland. I just want to know.”

“I...we said we’d talk later.”

“Elle?”

“I just thought it would be nicer, my grandparents got married there, my dad was christened in that church, then he and Mam got married there, I was christened there. According to the parish records, the Hughes’s have been there since pre-famine times. They have my great great grandfather’s signature in the records at that church and I know it’s small and dated, but it’s thirteenth century and I just...I think that’s nicer. I know it’s a different country and I know it’s a pain in the ass area to get to in another country but it matters to me.” There was no response to her statement. “Tom?”

“I’m here...I never realised.”

“We’ll talk later. I just need to get this done, I will talk to you soon, bye.”

“Bye.” The phone line went dead and Tom looked at his phone for a minute before looking at Ben, who was looking at him expectantly. “So…” He knew that with him being right next to him, Ben heard all of what Danielle had said.

“Seems a logical reason to want it there, if I’m honest. It matters to her. Now you need to ready your reason for having it here.”

“I don’t really have one, other than convenience.” He confessed before going silent for a moment. “Convenience does not trump tradition and historical sentiment, does it?”

“How long has it been since that famine, a hundred and fifty or so years, and Danielle can trace her family using that exact church in that time, that’s noteworthy, and it clearly means a lot to...wait, that’s another thing.”

“What?” Tom asked, worried at the look on Ben’s face. “What’s another thing?”

“Danielle’s a Catholic.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You’re not a Catholic.”

“No.”

“How does that work? Can you get married in a Catholic church if you’re not?”

“I have no idea.” In truth, Tom had not even thought of such issues. Neither he nor Danielle were in any way religious and their different faiths had never been much of a discussion as a result, but he had to wonder how it would work. “I need to check that.”

“You do.” Ben urged.

Tom parked his car into the drive and got out, going to the boot to take out the few bits of shopping he had gotten on his way back from Bens. He stood looking at Danielle’s car for a moment, knowing that something was peculiar about it but uncertain what the difference was. It was only when he realised the tyres were darker than before did he realise that she had gotten them changed. He huffed slightly in amusement, he had gone rushing to a friend to talk while Danielle did something practical and sensible.

Bringing in the shopping, he noted the quiet in the house. Both dogs greeted him as he placed the groceries on the counter before putting them away. After a few minutes, he wondered where Danielle was as her car keys and keys to the house were in their usual spots, meaning she was somewhere within it and with the boiler not making noise, it was obvious that she was not in the shower. He walked up the stairs and heard the telltale whirring of her fax machine. He knocked on their office door, which was slightly ajar and waited. A moment later, Danielle opened it and gave him a small smile. “Hey.”

“You got your tyres done?”

“Yeah, they were bothering me recently, getting a tad thin so I said I would grab four more.”

“How much?”

“Six, I got them from a place on the edge of the city, for cheaper than here, one place quoted me a thousand.”

“Jesus.” He looked at the machine. “Fun?”

“I wish, the paperwork for the Paramount job.”

“When’s that?”

“Two weeks in November. I will have to go to Croatia for it.”

“That’s fun.”

“Is it? What is Croatia even like at that time of year? I also need to do a week in Budapest. The joys of being the European Coordinator.”

“You love it really.”

“I love the paycheck and the doors it will open for me.”

“Brutal honesty.”

“So, what did you get up to?” Danielle asked curiously, not wanting to focus too much on work.

“I spoke with Ben.”

“And how is he?”

“Good. He was asking for you.”

“Bless him.” She smiled as she looked for a paperclip to keep certain pages together.

“He actually mentioned something to me that I never even thought of.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The fact we’re not the same religion.” Danielle paused and looked at him. “And how that will affect us.”

“Well, we’re not exactly utterly devout to our two branches of Christianity.”

Tom nodded in agreement. “But say we do this in that church you were talking about, how does that work, how can we get married there if I am not a Catholic?”

“Well, we could always convert you but that failing, they are not overly bothered.”

“Really?”

“You know, for all the wrongs that the Catholic Church has and there are plenty, it is not as backward as you all think over here. I mean, I have seen Protestant schools that demand a letter from the local reverend proving kids go to service at least every second week, Roger in work asked to use the fax there to send on his paperwork when getting his daughter into their local school. In Ireland, the schools may have a Catholic priest on a school board, but if you don’t even get Christened, you are fine to get into the school usually. The church isn’t as it was, it will marry Catholics and Protestants, as long as you fulfil what is required of you in their eyes.”

“Me?”

“No, plural ‘you’. It’s just they go through the ceremony and you have to do a stupid course on the meaning of marriage and all that other bollix no one pays heed to. It’s a ‘tick the box’ exercise really.”

“You clearly hold it all in such high regard.” Tom joked.

“Oh, yeah, clearly.” Danielle scoffed in return. “It’s a tad hypocritical of a man that will never be allowed marry giving marriage advice. I don’t think its something they can give practical experience of. I know what it will take to be married to you, patience, understanding,” She leant in close to him. “And nice underwear.” She added in a whisper, causing Tom to chuckle and lick his teeth.

“You’re not wrong.” He pulled her to him. “I was thinking.”

“Oh dear, those words usually lead to something terrifying. What, dear Thomas, were you thinking?”

Tom scoffed at her referencing his full name. “I wanted Britain for convenience, but all things considered, I think Ireland is the better place for the wedding.” She said nothing in return. “It matters so much to you, I can see now why and as long as at the end of it, I get to call you my wife, I don’t care if we have to travel for it. I only care about us being married.”

Danielle bit her lips together and inhaled deeply. “I…I don’t want this to cause arguments. I don’t want something fancy, I don’t need twelve thousand pound dresses and chandeliers, but that...that is something I would love, so much. It’s such a big part of our family tradition, so much so that my Mam forewent the usual tradition of her parish for Dad’s. All of my family, all of our records are there and it means a lot to me. I...thank you.”

“Just promise me if I give in to this request, you won’t turn into Bridezilla.”

Danielle snorted at his comment, knowing him to be joking. “I promise I’ll try not to. But if someone does not RSVP on the right date, or wears pink…” She laughed playfully.

“Oh dear, she’s started.” Tom laughed in response.

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 164 #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston #wolfpawn

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kyle-valenti · 5 years

Text

As the Sun Sets the Moon Rises (4/?)

By the time summer lapses into school session and the first month has gone into September, the four-wheeler incident is all but forgotten. While Max and Isobel give wary looks to each other around Kyle at first, nothing changes for Michael at home. If Kyle had questions, he reserved them for their father-- likely not trusting Michael to be honest given the chance to mess with him-- and after things revert to their usual familiar distance.

Eighth grade begins with a new sort of pressure from teachers and parents that Michael isn’t familiar with and not sure he likes. High school still seems far away in the beginning of the year, and graduation and adulthood too distant. Classes are easy for him anyway, and he sleeps in them often no matter how many eye rolls he gets from Liz Ortecho. Michelle Valenti, however, is set on the idea that both of her sons will go to great colleges and get the hell out of Roswell, especially Michael. For him, it’s more than a good future, it’s a safe future. Somewhere that aliens aren’t on the forefront of everyone’s mind and the belief in them much more rare. He understands, he does; but the nagging about grades and projects is increasingly annoying.

Jim Valenti takes a different approach than nagging, and somehow even though it’s never spoken, both Michael and Kyle know they’re now in competition. While Michael found class too simple, Kyle had often found class pointless altogether. This year they only have two classes together, Physics and Biology, but the problem lies in the fact that Michael exceeds in one Kyle exceeds in the former now that he suddenly cares.

Today as they leave Biology, Kyle having cockily shoved his perfect test score into Michael’s face only for Michael to covertly flip him off, the bell rings and Kyle holds him back. “Hey, hold on.”

“What, going to talk up how you’re going to be some master research doctor surgeon still?” Michael asks sarcastically. “Already told you spacecraft engineer beats you.”

“No, that’s not it,” Kyle says, rolling his eyes and pulling out a slightly crumpled blue envelope out of his pocket. He shoves it at Michael, who cautiously accepts it. “Liz invited you to her birthday party.”

Michael pulls a face out of confusion. “Ortecho? Why ?”

The girl is smart as hell, of course, and constantly the main competition of both of them in their science based classes, but Michael’s maybe talked to her five or six times total, all of the conversations required by being lab partners. She hung out with an entirely different crowd, and as far as Michael knew, Kyle only spent time with her via Alex.

“Think about it,” Kyle replies, looking impatient, and then it clicks. Max . Max’s crush on her had somehow become more increasingly obvious now that there were things like school dances and dating, but Michael hadn’t really paid enough attention other than to tease Max to realize that Liz might actually have a crush in return.

“He’s going to chicken out.” Michael laughs.

All Kyle does is shrug, adjusting his backpack and walking off toward the cafeteria. “I did my duty.”

Following not that far behind, he heads a sharp right to Kyle’s left upon arriving to the cafeteria, and he tries not to gloat too much as he reaches Max and Isobel at their informally assigned table. Hesitancy runs from them into his mind as he approaches with his far more happier than average sarcastic baseline.

Before Isobel can make some snarky curious remark, Michael waves the envelope at Max and enjoys watching him choke on his orange juice as he announces, “Liz Ortecho wants you at her birthday party.”

“ What?” Max fumbles, trying to wipe off the small spray that hit his clothes as Isobel giggles at him and shakes her head. “Why? Says who?”

Michael throws the card to him. “Apparently I’m invited and the only reason on earth she’d invite me is to make you come.”

“You don’t know that,” Max frowns, ever one to hang onto denial.

“Oh come on, Max, don’t be dumb,” Isobel adds in with a sigh. “Even I got an invite and we’ve talked maybe once since fifth grade.”

“She’s probably just being nice.” Max argues again, his head down as he still focuses heavily on drying his shirt with napkins grabbed from the table and not the fact that his crush is actually reaching out to him.

Ever one to settle an argument at almost any cost, Michael only pauses a second before deciding to push it. Isobel catches a flash of his intention from the way she looks up and gives a slightly amused but warning look, but Michael’s already decided as he tells Max, “Let me ask Kyle for you.”

“ Don’t you dare, Michael ,” he hisses, but Michael yells across the lunch room anyway. “Kyle! Come here!”

Max angrily steps on Michael’s foot and once again Michael is grateful that Isobel had convinced Max that the whole cowboy look was out of fashion because he can’t imagine the pain steel toed boots would have caused. Either way it’s too late, Kyle’s attention is already caught, and even though his adopted brother looks extremely annoyed at being summoned, he still comes over.

“What?”

Smirking, Michael asks, “Is Liz going to be horribly offended if Max shows up without an invitation?”

“You interrupted my lunch for this?” Kyle demands, but when Michael only shrugs a shoulder at Max, Kyle dryly tells Max, “You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?” Max asks, offense rising, but Kyle rolls his eyes and follows Michael’s suit by yelling across the cafeteria for Alex. Max is now sending Michael the worst look he’s probably ever given, turning red as he snaps under his breath and reinforces mentally, “ I am going to kill you for this .”

Michael is too busy trying to catch a breath between his laughter, doubled over even as Isobel is desperately trying to be diplomatic and stop giggling herself, and Alex comes over with a look of curiosity at the scene. Kyle claps him on the back before sarcastically asking, “Do you think Max is invited to Liz’s party?”

It says quite a bit that Alex only gives a short laugh at first before turning to Max with amused pity. “If Liz finds out I’ve said this, you better blame Kyle, but she’s been trying to find a way to get courage to give you an envelope all week. Why do you think Michael is invited?”

Gesturing to Alex now that his point is proven, Michael’s ignored as Max snaps at him. “Are you done dragging the entire school into this?”

“I don’t know, where’s Deluca and Rosa?”

Max lunges for Michael, but luckily Isobel stops them and Michael can’t help but continue laughing.

=======================

Birthday parties are not Michael’s scene, but the adamant threats Max gives requiring him to show up to Liz’s party make him go. The Crashdown is closed for the day, red balloons and streamers everywhere, and Michael is at least happy to note that the good restaurant food is provided on top of just black forest cake. None of the guests end up being people he talks to often. Liz’s circle generally only included her older sister, Deluca, and Alex; and the only people who showed up outside of that were Kyle who had also been roped in by extension. Presents begin to litter one of the tables-- more than the amount of guests, which Michael has to admit is impressive. Max nervously places his wrapped gift on the table, looking like he’s considering about taking it back at the very idea she may not like it. Isobel’s also brought a gift for politeness’ sake and Michael scrawls his name in addition to hers on the gift tag, inducing rolled eyes. He flashes her a smug grin and looks around to see if Kyle’s brought something as well. There’s an envelope with his writing, and Michael is highly suspicious Kyle spent little effort via giving cash or gift card. Simple, but effective.

Once the food is served, Liz’s mom announces she and Liz’s dad are leaving for their own date, something her dad looks displeased about (especially when her mom gives both Liz and Rosa a wink). After the cake and presents routine, Michael is mentally begging Max to let him leave, but all he gets is Max silently shaking his head and shooting him pleading looks. Isobel sighs beside Michael, also giving into Max’s shy desperation for morale support.

“Games upstairs!” Rosa announces, and Liz gives her sister a look but it’s too late. Deluca has jumped up and followed the direction, cueing Isobel to shrug and follow as well. Alex is smiling and shaking his head as he continues up the stairs, and Michael shoots Kyle a curious glance as they slowly follow the crowd. Kyle only shrugs as if he also has no idea what Rosa Ortecho’s plans could be.

It turns out neither does her little sister, because the second they’re all upstairs in the small but cozy sisters’ bedroom Rosa announces, “Spin the bottle!”

Liz, just like Max would at the public sibling embarrassment, looks mortified. “ What, Rosa? No!”

“Come on little sister,” Rosa teases. “You’re thirteen now, not ten. Time for your first kiss.”

“No one said it would be my first kiss!” Liz argues, her cheeks turning a little pink in a way that suggests to Michael it definitely would be her first kiss. Not that she hadn’t had options, but at least from Michael’s limited outside perspective, she’d always seemed like a good Catholic girl.

Deluca giggles beside them, the upper freshman looking at her friends with amusement. “Rosa, come on, they’re still in middle school. Leave her alone.”

Liz looks torn between thanking her and glaring at her, and Michael interrupts in the interim to see how much trouble he can add to the situation to save himself from dying of disinterest. “Hey, no one else was consulted on this. I’m down. I know Max is too.”

The bruising punch to his arm he gets from Max is worth it, especially when Isobel joins in and Max’s irritation at both of them is once again strong enough to feel telepathically. Michael is having a very hard time keeping his laughter silent, and there’s a definitively coy tone to Isobel’s addition. “There’s nothing wrong with kissing is there?”

“It’s Liz’s party, guys,” Alex says firmly, and Michael sees Kyle try not to roll his eyes. “She decides.”

“I mean, I guess we’re almost in high school anyway,” Liz replies, blushing furiously and very obviously avoiding looking at Max.

Rosa woops in excitement, grabbing a bottle out of what seems like nowhere and plopping herself onto the hardwood floor. As fortune would have it, they evenly match in sides of people related to each other as they sit, so it looks easy to avoid respins. Before the bottle even touches the floor Michael gets distinct warning glares from not only Max but Kyle as well, his obvious advantage of control something they’re scared of. Both of them are right to be nervous given his mischievous mood, but he lures them into a false sense of security by decidedly not mentally reaching out to the glass at first.

Rosa spins first. Of all the mismatched people in the group, Rosa and Alex are the first to go, and they laugh through the entire thing, making it seem more like a child’s game than anything else.

“Boring!” Liz laughs, giggling with them as well, now looking definitively less nervous. While the birthday girl’s mood has definitely changed for the better, Michael can’t help but notice that Kyle’s has done the opposite at the sight of hers. Something about it seems new and out of place, but he can’t put his finger on the reason yet.

Alex spins, but it’s Maria that it lands on, her just barely angled enough that she ends up having to kiss Rosa next. Liz’s eyebrows shoot up and Alex makes an encouraging laugh that causes Deluca to glare at him. Whatever dynamic Michael’s missing makes him curious, especially the second that Rosa huffs and momentarily stops the teasing by kissing Maria. There’s much more into it than the kiss with Alex-- especially when absolutely no giggling occurs-- which makes Michael raise his eyebrows, but then Deluca pulls back out of nowhere and Rosa snaps back to normal with only one finger to check her lipstick. There’s no time for anyone in the group to ask questions with how lightning fast Maria decides to spins again, fatefully still being picked on, this time with Michael.

“Ugh, seriously?” She asks, scrunching her nose and sarcastically asking, “The universe decided I have to kiss just anyone?”

“Think the universe might be more busy than to focus on your make out practice, Deluca,” he shoots back, rolling his eyes. She pulls a face at him in return, but Liz gives them an amused look as she nudges Maria’s shoulder playfully and says, “Come on, Maria. Rules.”

Maria sighs heavily, but when their lips finally do meet, Michael has to admit she does kiss well. It’s good, even if Michael isn’t entirely sure she’s trying to hide a sexuality crisis. He isn’t sure if the taste of cinnamon is hers or left from Rosa, but the way that Maria fits her lips around his is definitely better than some of the other random girls he’s kissed on the back of the bus just so he could say he’s kissed before.

They pull back after Liz starts laughing, and the entire side of his circle are making faces at them. Kyle and Isobel are seemingly both grossed out while Max seems more teasing. Teasing he can take on, though, and the second he spins the bottle he makes sure to pause it on Liz and Max.

Max freezes, as does Liz, and while they’re both busy turning a shade of red almost as dark as Rosa’s lipstick, it’s Maria’s turn to shove Liz forward (maybe a little more forcefully than Liz had in revenge). Michael can feel the blast of Max’s happiness when the two shyly kiss, as can Isobel from the way she smiles and shakes her head softly. Kyle’s the one to raise an eyebrow at Michael while they’re ignoring the bashful idiots, clearly asking about the influence on the bottle’s direction, and Michael shoots a smirk and shrugs.

Maybe if he hadn’t admitted to it, things wouldn’t become so immediately awkward, but as the bottle spins again and lands on both Alex and Michael, he knows he’s screwed without even looking over. With the same outside energy fields that Michael constantly has to try and drown out he can feel the way that Kyle tenses, but there could be a million reasons. A million reasons that don’t seem to matter when Michael’s faced with the now detrimentally insecure face of Alex Manes.

“Oh come on, Maria and I kissed,” Rosa scoffs when the pause is longer than even Max and Liz’s had been, but before Alex can literally run away Michael kisses him.

He isn’t expecting the kiss to be anything. Alex Manes has always been Kyle’s quiet but sarcastic sidekick, albeit increasingly more attractive as they’ve grown older and Alex’s confidence and social circle has expanded. Honestly he’s just expecting it to be quick and over and something that he can just explain away to Kyle in the aftermath. But as rapidly as Alex had frozen, he equally melted into the kiss, and then they were mirroring the exact energy as him and Deluca until Michael pulls back at the sound of angry footsteps down the stairs.

Isobel gives Michael a rather guilt-inducing stare, but Max is kind enough to distract the group as Michael gets up and discreetly leaves for the stairs to find Kyle moodily sitting in one of the booths, arms crossed and head grumpily leaning forward. At least until Michael is closer. Then Kyle stands up to be on equal, but furious footing.

Trying to mitigate damage by speaking first, Michael lifts his hands and replies, “Didn’t spin that one, promise.”

“Yeah, and then you just fell on his lips?” he demands, arms folded and an angry expression that doesn’t match the subtle tone hiding underneath the sound of his rough words.

He scoffs now, ignoring that later it’ll be his turn to have hell thinking about it. “What was I supposed to do, Kyle? Be an ass and say no?”

“I would have if it was Isobel!”

Taking a jab just to push things, he replies, “Yeah me kissing your childhood crush isn’t the same as you kissing Isobel.”

“He’s not my crush,” Kyle spits back, but there it is, the inkling Michael had edged toward just earlier after Alex had kissed Rosa. Jealousy. The kind that only came from loving someone in a way you desperately didn’t want to.

Pausing only for a beat, his anger blew out, but he still pushes. He pushes because if Kyle can admit something so monumental, then Michael wouldn’t have to. “Right, so the storming out of the room when another guy kissed him, that was what? So you could come down here and get leftover cake?”

“I don’t like guys.” Is Kyle’s clipped response. “The problem is you kissed him.”

Michael sarcastically huffs, shrugging. “So prove it. Go kiss him. I’ll stop the bottle for you.”

“I don’t have to prove anything.”

“Yeah and what? You’ll just leave the party now and make it look like you’re even more jealous?” he snaps.

While Michael thought the comment would get a rise, he didn’t realize how much. Maybe he’s stepping too much over the line, but he doesn’t care, not even as Kyle moves further into his space, clearly about ready to fight. “Shut up already.”

“You’re the one who got pissed at me,” he reminds. “Sorry I’m confident enough to not care and kiss him first.”

Kyle throws the punch that Michael expects, but then Max is downstairs in the between of Michael recovering and gets in between them surprisingly fast. Michael still owes Kyle a punch to the jaw that he’s aching to give, but Max is too tall for him to reach around without being too forceful with the powers he should be hiding.

“What the hell you two?”

Neither of them speak as Max looks back and forth, still busy glaring at each other, but Max isn’t completely oblivious and asks the delicate question with a slowly dawning look on his face. “Is this about Alex?”

“You don’t even talk to me. Let’s not start,” Kyle replies, moving around Max with a shove to the shoulder, which forces Max to hold Michael back from kicking his ass. Surprisingly enough, Kyle goes back upstairs, but Isobel comes down at the same time and heaves a dramatic sigh as he passes her and she spots Max’s hand still forcefully on Michael’s shoulder.

Once she reaches them Max lets his shoulder go and Isobel gives Michael the kind of stare that rivals Michelle Valenti’s. Quietly, she snaps. “Why on earth are you antagonizing your brother after you’re the one who kissed Kyle?”

“I didn’t realize he felt that way!” Michael defends himself, albeit a little weakly when Isobel continues to give him the guilt inducing stare as she raises an eyebrow and pointedly asks, “Okay, Michael. Is this really Kyle’s gay crisis, or yours?”

“I like girls,” Michael shoots back, trying to ignore the way that Max is looking between both of them.

She doesn’t even blink. “Yes. And?”

“What do you mean?

Isobel sighs impatiently. “You can like both. It happens. Right Max?

“Yeah,” Max adds after a quick second of shock at being dragged into the argument. He looks supportive, but he also looks like a fish out of water, and fumbles as he adds, “Like.. I mean I want pie and Isobel wants cake, and you can want either.

She can’t seem to help it, she laughs, and even though he’s completely on edge even Michael finds it hard not to smile as he rolls his eyes. Isobel shakes her head. “Oh God, Max, how do you convince anyone you’re human?”

“What? I agree with you!” Max asks, looking embarrassed. “There are plenty of writers-- okay besides the point,” Max stops when he gets two glares, and then he turns. “Michael, you know it’s not a big deal to us, right? We love you regardless.”

“There you go,” Isobel teases Max, before also telling Michael, “He’s right though. We love you no matter what sort of taste you have in girls-- because if you date Maria Deluca I might kill you-- or boys. But, you know, maybe don’t try to date Alex Manes if you want your home life to be smooth.”

Max nods. “Now, are you guys going to come back upstairs or--,”

“I literally helped you kiss her.” Michael scoffs. “You can handle it from here.”

“Sorry,” Isobel agrees, not looking very sorry. “We’ve reached the limit of watching your brother desperately fail to flirt with his soulmate. I’m going to go take care of this one.”

Michael shakes his head at her, even if he appreciates it, and they leave with Michael wondering how the hell his life was going to go from here… High school hadn’t even started.

#michael guerin #kyle valenti #guerenti bros #malex #kylex #miluca #pod squad #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic #rnm fic #mine #my work #astsstmr

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thebellamybarnesarchive · 4 years

Photo

The fae spirits want our townsfolk to do something silly...and so they do!

Feat: @thebellamybarnes, @lyn-nichols, @wolfontheloose, @mayarparker, @colettescoven

Bella knelt by the edge of the fountain, looking forlorn at her nails as a few acrylics had chipped off, her normal nail beneath rather plain looking. “This really isn’t fair,” she told the bat spirit that giggled in a way she knew could not possibly come from any real bat. “Stupid thing,” she muttered as she once more began to scrub at the fountain, told by her fae that it was apparently her job to clean the thing. Her Gucci jeans were ruined and she had scuffed her Alaia heels to death moving around the thing. It really didn’t look any cleaner.

"Bells!" Lyn shouted the name, feeling like though they still barely knew each other, she could recognize that blonde head anywhere. She sprinted forward, boots thunking heavily against the sidewalk, the snake wrapped, scarf-like, around her throat giving a displeased hiss at being so jostled about. "Hey!" She almost skidded to a stop next to the blonde, fit to burst with things to say. "Bells! Hey, what's up!?"

Looking up as her name was called she breathed a sigh of relief at the momentary escape from cleaning. Honestly she liked the nickname, she loved any kind of nickname that was offered to her but her friends when she was human had called her Belle so anything akin felt very familiar. “Lyn,” she smiled, brushing her wet hands off on her jeans, half her nails missing by now. “Cleaning, apparently I have to get this fountain clean, but it’s basically left me exposed to whatever everyone else’s fae have wanted them to do. One guy was running around pulling everyone’s hair, it hurt,” Bella pouted, taking the chance to rub her head. “I’m glad you and your fae seem to be getting on,” she noted, gesturing to the rainbow snake as the bat she had tried to tug her hands back to cleaning with the claws at the end of it’s wings.

"Cleaning?" Lyn's contorted facial expression showed her obvious distaste for the idea. "Oh... Your bat is an asshole, I'm so sorry, it's so cute." Lyn pouted at the pink-winged animal, confused as to how something so cool looking could be trying to get Bellamy to do something so awful. "I just have to speak truth!" Lyn said, giving her snake a little pat on it's triangle-shaped head with her fingertips. "Doesn't even have to be my truth!!" And then, as if on cue, a voice in her ear, sibilant and gentle, and her face fell. "Oh, Bells." Lyn launched herself downward, arms wrapping around the blonde, squeezing tight, once, twice, three times, and then, after a pause, a fourth. "Four hugs. Just for now! You'll get more later!"

“It is an arsehole, I really liked bats before now,” Bella acknowledged before looking to the snake enviously. “The truth? You don’t seem like a liar...,” she rolled off, not completely understanding at first. When Lyn continued she was slightly confused, though before she could ask what she meant she suddenly felt slender arms wrapped around her petite form. “Four hugs?” She questioned, feeling each gentle squeeze. Even in confusion she was comforted, she was kind of an affectionate person and until people got to know her she didn’t usually like to overwhelm them. “I do? Do we have plans? I mean, I’m down for anything that isn’t cleaning this thing but what why hugs?”

Lyn bit her lips shut, brows knit together. It had been a couple hours since she'd woken to find the fae-spirit in her fruit bowl, and she'd gotten a few answers from the snake, but little in the way of actual explanation. "Okay," She said, hands held up in a defensive position, "I know how this sounds, trust me, but the snake... It tells me things." Yeah, she sounded... well... It wasn't good, but considering Bella had chipped her nails off scrubbing a fountain, Lyn could at least assume she'd get a little more sympathy than if she was the only one suffering. "It's uhm... Things I don't think people normally talk about... Like uhm... Your mom."

Bellamy rose her brows, looking to the snake as she said it told her things. Very shady, immediately reminding the ex-Catholic of the story of Eve and the snake but deciding that likely whatever the snake was whispering was not quite the same, after all the bat was telling Bellamy things. Mostly one thing but it was quite communicative though no one else seemed to hear it. "My mother?" she asked, the title alone showing their emotional distance. "I suppose I don't really talk about my Mother, she's not really worth -" But then the hug thing clicked and Bella looked down at Lyn's hands rather than her face. "Oh," she let out, scrunching up her face. "Well I appreciate the hugs, you definitely don't have to count them though, we'll hug more than are countable, I promise," Bella smiled softly in the hopes Lyn wouldn't feel so badly for her. "I'm much more inclined to hug than she is. Plus you're entirely huggable," she grinned more firmly, lips tight but smile wide.

"My dad sucks." Lyn said quickly, "So like. I get it, kinda." There was a flash of something in her features then, delicate and wounded, "And uhm... If I'm being honest I miss him. I don't... I don't tell people that. I don't tell anyone that actually. But... I can tell you." She said with a nod. Still frowning Lyn got down to her knees near Bella, picking up one of the brushes her vampire friend (could she say friend yet? she hoped so...) was using to clean. "Think I can help?" She asked, curiously glancing at the bat as though she needed it's permission to help.

Bella was going to ask for some kind of secret in return, nothing large since she presumed the snake only told her that her mother had not hugged her much, and likely not why but Lyn offered herself up and Bella allowed the grin to soften. "I should probably miss my Mother but I don't, I mean, maybe I do, but I just don't miss her how most people probably do. It's hard to miss someone you never really got to be affectionate with," she offered, reaching up and attempting to hold Lyn's hand however awkwardly from where she was. "So, if your Dad sucks but you miss him, then maybe he did some things worth missing," Bellamy smiled as Lyn knelt down with her. "You can...?" she rolled off, looking to the bat whose eyes were on the snake. "I think you can, you should tell me some other secrets the snake has told you though, fun ones. Is anyone doing anything shady in town? Because I definitely think the witch that owns the florist is getting around this town," she asked, offering Lyn one of the brushes as she began to gently clean the stone.

Lyn blinked rapidly at Bella's words about her father, another secret of hears threatening to make itself known without the words even getting a voice. Damn, she could be a big fucking crybaby sometimes. She refused to let it show, though, squeezing Bella's fingers as the other woman reached for her hand before joining her to clean the fountain. She took the offered brush, and followed her friend's lead, scrubbing gently. "Oh, please," Lyn said, relieved by the offer, "I've been trying to keep them in but... I wanted to trust you so...I'll tell you." She glanced up from the spot she'd been gently buffing clean, a twinkle in her eye, "You're totally right. This town, and the next one."

"I've been trying not to clean, the bat just starts screeching in my ears," she offered up as her own reason for being there and being in such a mess. It made sense Lyn was doing her best to keep them in but wasn't quite able to. "So hopefully your snake isn't quite so annoying when you resist," Bellamy said. "You can definitely trust me, I won't tell a soul. Admittedly I'm a huge gossip but not about family or like big emotional stuff, only about cute romance-y stuff or like when people do adorable things. I'm really bad at not saying when people have done something cute, even if they're embarrassed by it. Like I will tell everyone you head banged pixies out of your hair, it's too adorable not to tell people," she explained as she cleaned, before her eyes went wide. "The next one too? Damn. First I was suspicious and now I'm just plain impressed."

"Preeeeetty sure it's been threatening to strangle me by wrapping around my shoulders like this, but I'm trying not to dwell on it." Lyn said with a shrug. Bella bringing up Lyn's desperate fight for survival made her laugh, and she reached up with a free hand to stifle the sudden noise, "Please do, because it was kind of badass." She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, face scrunched up, and then shook her head, thinking better of admitting her own secret in favor of listening to the snake at her ear for another one. "There's a barista at the coffee shop who's dating... Ke-" She paused, frowning at the name, asking the snake for clarification, "Wait, who? Oh, Keiran. Nooo idea who that is. Oooh, Keiran is the owner of the coffee shop. Scandal."

"Wow, subtle but obviously effective," Bella chuckled, rubbing the fountain with one of the brushes. It was nice to see Lyn in a situation that, though partially threatening was not actively scary. "Oh definitely, worthy of mentioning, total bad arse move. You'll be walking into the Den terrifying all the werewolves there in no time," she grinned, knowing that even if Lyn didn't know any werewolves the Den was an old enough spot and known enough location she'd definitely know of it and the reputation it had. "Wow, people really are getting around. At least Kieran and the barista are exclusive, presumably, poor barista if not, but the whole boss/employee thing is probably fun. I've only ever flirted with one employee, but there wasn't really a boss/employee thing to it. How about you? Will the snake compel you to tell me you've been into your boss before?"April 25, 2020

The mention of werewolves had Lyn biting her tongue again, and she focused instead on scrubbing away a stubborn spot of what could have been leftover graffiti. "Hhmm, maybe, if that were a thing that happened." Lyn said, shrugging a shoulder, "Had a mild crush on one of my professors, but never my boss." She gave the snake a little glance, reached up to skim her hand over the smooth, dry scales, and felt it shift a little tighter. "I met one of my neighbors, he's a hot werewolf." Lyn said, wondering if she could keep up with small admittances to appease her spirit.

"Oh, professor, what did you go to college for?" Bellamy asked, she'd never even finished high school, rather she got her GED once she became a vampire. It hadn't affected things work wise, she had people with degrees to advise her. "Oh yeah? They're all hot to me, literally and physically," she grinned, nudging Lyn, not quite noticing the way that the snake was toying with her. "You should like strategically plan going outside in robes, like 'oh no, my food came faster than the delivery said and I didn't have time to dress'," Bella feigned a dramatic innocent tone. "What's he look like?"

"IT," Lyn said, "Not nearly as impressive as my doctor brother, but I like it." Lyn grinned at Bella's playful nudge, though she did try to make a mental note to maybe see if Ryden had any werewolf friends she might like. The vampire's suggestion made her snicker, and Lyn shook her head wildly, "Not a chance in hell." She pressed, still trying not to laugh at the idea of her throwing herself at Ryden like that. "He's not.. I don't want to..." She couldn't quite get her words in the right order, and settled for shaking her head before going on to explain, "He's like... stupidly, unfairly hot. Nice accent, fuck ton of tattoos?"

"Any chance your doctor brother is a werewolf?" Bellamy snorted a laugh, presuming Lyn's brother was not in town and most certainly not a werewolf. "Come on! I could lend you so many lace robes," Bella pouted, and with a form like Lyn's she had no doubt it would work because while both petite Lyn had a lot more going on upstairs, Bella rarely wore a bra because it was so unnecessary. Still stupid, unfairly hot sounded like a lot of wolves in Bella's opinion, but once a little more came she immediately let out a giggle, biting her bottom lip to keep from grinning too widely as excitement came over her. "Oh my god, Ryden," she said, which meant she'd let go of her bottom lip and the beaming amused grin came. "Your neighbour is British, yeah? Has a motorbike he calls Princess? Please say yes so I can definitely get you a robe to totally fuck up his whole life with, the poor puppy."

"No, why wo-" Lyn caught up half a second too late, and curled her nose up, "Nope. Not allowed. You're way too cool for my brother." She spoke matter of factly, leaving no room for argument. Also she was pretty sure that he'd get so nervous in Bella's presence that he'd walk directly into a wall. Smooth was not really something either of them had managed to master, Lyn was just better at hiding it behind a wall of ridiculousness. At the mention of her neighbor's name, Lyn's jaw dropped, and she stared over at the vampire, disbelieving, "Oh my god, yes!! Holy shit, you know him? Oh my god, okay, of course you know him." She rolled her eyes, somehow it seemed only fitting that the two were at least friends, if not more, "Oh my god, no robes, why are you like this?" Lyn was laughing too hard to focus on the cleaning now. "What about you? Surely there are about fifty hapless suitors trailing after you everywhere you go, yeah?"

"I mean, I promise I'm less cool than I seem, but I'll keep away from your brother," Bella assured her, watching as Lyn quickly agreed that Ryden was her neighbour. "Yeah, I've actually known him a while, he's the employee I flirted with, I still flirt with him, I mean, you've met him, he's a flirty guy," she reasoned of her connection to Ryden. They were definitely more than that though, more than people who had flirted. "He's my puppy, though not much of a puppy anymore, he's like my best friend," she explained, smiling more gently. She did get a bit concerned, she knew Ryden, knew his past about his ex, and while Ryden was totally available to be friends with and sleep with and even share emotional sides of yourself with he was by no means ready to date, but maybe Lyn wasn't either. She was young and gorgeous, why would she want to settle down? "I actually moved here a while ago because my last boyfriend and I were really close, he actually asked me to turn him but...he had kids and it became pretty obvious he'd lose a lot of time with them if he stayed with me so...it's been hard to get over him. Ryden actually really helped, he wants to break his kneecaps in but he's a good friend," Bella explained, running her hands over her thighs. "I did, uh...kind of fool around with this guy I met at a bar, but not sure it's an onslaught of suitors quite yet."

Lyn nodded at Bella's description, no doubt in her mind that Ryden was the sort who could chat up anyone he wanted and get them blushing under all that attention. "Exactly," Lyn said, as though that exact description was proving a point she hadn't made out loud. Lyn's brows knit together, and she reached out, setting her hand on Bellamy's. Lyn, as much as she was trying to immerse herself in this town, in this life, was still a human, and there were times that she could forget that the usual relationship bullshit took on a thousand different layers in a place like this. She parted her lips, ready to apologize, to try and offer any words of condolence she might have built up, but then came that voice again, the quiet hiss in her ear that somehow formed words she could understand. "Kemper... He's afraid of snakes," She said with a grin, reaching up to give her scaly friend a little rub along the chin. "Like, super scared."

Lyn didn't quite say much about Ryden and she hoped she hadn't made the girl feel awkward about her connection to him. They'd slept together, presumably what she'd said implied that, but Bella loved Ryden in a way that she couldn't quite describe, perhaps because her family had never been one for the feeling, but also because there were so many layers to it. "You should definitely flirt with him the next time you're both...on your lawns or whatever, he's really fun. Plus you're both huge bad arses." However when she suddenly said Kemper Bella leaned in, "snakes? That's...amusing, especially since you kind of have one," she chuckled. "You know Kemper though? I didn't even say his name..."

"Trust me, I already flirted with him over our shared stray cat, I've done my civic duty," She teased, sticking her tongue out at Bella in the hopes of appeasing her friend. And as much as she'd been focused on their earlier conversation, their mutual friend the hot werewolf, Lyn couldn't help but feel like she noticed something renewed in Bella's interest as she moved in closer. "I think my uh, companion, is a little offended by his dislike, honestly." Lyn shook her head, side-eying the snake as she explained, "No. Never met the guy, never heard his name before. I just... y'know... It's telling me things... Things I shouldn't know... Probably don't have any right to know..."

"It is a citizens duty to flirt with Ryden, I could see that," she smiled, glad it seemed Lyn was fine, even if it didn't quite sound like she was sure she'd flirt with the cute werewolf boy next door. That was an amazing cliche movie waiting to happen and Bella needed to watch it. "I'd feel more sympathetic for our fae friends if they were actually friendly themselves," Bellamy shrugged, likely not to use snakes against Kemper. "Oh, wow, so it really is just trying to create drama. I'm sure you can keep some of it in, yeah?" She'd abandoned the cleaning by this point, the bat climbing on her back to attempt to pull her back to it but Bellamy was distracted, mostly resisting the urge to ask the snake if he had a girlfriend and if he did whether or not Bella was prettier. "You can tell people my Mum didn't hug me much, I won't get upset. I'm not afraid of much though, at least not like out of nowhere. I'd be scared of a snake if it was trying to kill me but not just...generally."

"True," Lyn agreed, giving her snake another little chin rub, "Pretty sure the only reason I'm not getting strangled now is because I'm running my mouth." She appreciated Bella giving up secrets to share, but she didn't quite know if she could use the same one twice. Maybe to different people? "I don't know what the point is... I mean, why are you doing this?" She said, holding up the scrub brush she'd been using to clean the fountain. "I thought at first like..." Lyn sat back on her feet, pensive, "I wondered if it was something deeper? I came here look for answers, really, trying to find some sort of truth, I guess? So maybe this was a reminder that I don't need to know everything, that knowledge can be dangerous, and needs to be treated respectfully..." She shrugged, glancing up to Bella and then at the snake still looped around her shoulders, "Or this is random bullshit because faeries are tricky fuckers. Who knows."

"Feel free to run your mouth, I won't tell anyone Kemper is afraid of snakes, or about your Dad," not that she'd got a full picture there anyway. Bella wanted to ask but didn't want to pry, at least not while Lyn was in a position where she was forced to share. "I will however tell Ryden you said he's hot...," Bellamy teased, unable to help herself. "I'm not sure, I guess I didn't think about it. I've gone through enough supernatural stuff to know sometimes there is no meaning to it, especially with fae, they're tricky bastards, I mean, why did they try and drag you into that house, you know? If it does have meaning, me being forced to clean seems rude, I clean my house, and I keep my businesses much cleaner than the health and safety people ask." She paused, so self invested she almost missed what Lyn had said, clicking once she'd truly heard it. "What kind of truth did you come here for though?"

"Pretty sure I told Ryden to his face that he was hot, and it's not like he can't know," Lyn said, rolling her eyes, and then, briefly pressing her fingertips to her forehead, as though exasperated by the very fact she went on for a moment longer, "I mean seriously, stupidly, unfairly hot, like.. why?" She focused when Bella went on about her own task, and the mention of the sprites made her wince, rubbing at her head as though she could feel phantom pain in her scalp from their scratchy little hands. "I don't know," Lyn said, and tried to ignore the snake shifting around her neck, like a creepy version of Pinocchio, tightening everytime she avoided telling something she'd rather keep down. "About... The world? About myself, about how... Nowhere else really felt right until I got here."

"Part genetics, part hard knock life, part werewolf, it just came together and became abs with tattoos and an accent," Bella practically cried, but laughed instead. "Plus it's like, people are just hotter when they know how to talk to you." Ryden was strangely good at getting people to open up, even though his ego was quite large. Lyn went on though, about what her truth was, it didn't quite make sense that would be why this would happen but she did get the feeling. "I never felt myself until I was a vampire, maybe we're just people who were attuned to the lies, and need truth to feel ourselves. I think that's a good thing."

"Yeah, Professor X really fucked that one up." Lyn said with another roll of her eyes. Any hint of Bella's origin story would have interested her, but this part in particular had her curious, wondering if the answer could really be that simple after all. She wasn't sure if she was ready to be something other than human, yet, for now just knowing that this all was real was slaking her thirst for truth. "How long have you been a vampire? Can I ask that?"

"Oh yeah, for sure. I'm only four years old as a vampire," she admitted, knowing it perhaps seemed like she was older, not much older since she was looking sadly at missing fake nails and discussing boys but she wasn't as rabid as she had been when she was first turned and took a lot of responsibility for herself. "I was turned on my twenty-first birthday and the next thing I knew I was surrounded by dead bodies with a man telling me I was a vampire, that was basically the first few months of my life. I didn't know anything, I was completely stupid but I was kind of a stupid human too so," Bella shrugged.

Lyn couldn't hide her surprise at the answer. Although it made sense, the idea of 'young' vampires seemed out of place to her. She'd expected some wild number, for Bella to admit she'd been around during the Civil War or something ridiculous, but really she could have just had a baby-face, and not a member of the undead and it would have been just as likely. "Shit..." She muttered, "That's a hell of a way to wake up." Bella's mention of being a 'stupid human' seemed to rouse Lyn's living necklace, and as it spoke to her, Lyn's face fell. "Oh... No..." Lyn muttered, shaking her head with a frown, and she wondered if lifting her hands to her ears would stop the snake from telling her secrets that she wanted her friend to share of her own accord.

"Yeah...," was all Bella really said, sometimes she missed it. When she was first turned she was reckless and violent and unfeeling, she refused to attach to anyone who wasn't her sire. Now Bella was so attached. Sure, she could probably kill anyone in that park and not feel too badly for it, but Lyn? No, she'd never be able to take it. When Bella cared even a little about someone it was the same as caring a lot. "I know it sounds mean to call myself dumb but I was, maybe not like smarts wise, though kind of too, I basically never went to class, but I made some bad decisions," she continued, not aware that it was the snake whispering things that were upsetting Lyn. "How about you? How old are you?"

Maya had given up trying to outpace the rabbit still following her. Or maybe it was a bunny. There was probably a difference, but she didn't know what it was. She had gotten pretty good at ignoring it though. However, since her successful job interview that afternoon, the creature had only gotten more insistent. After all, she had a kitchen now. As she walked into the park, it hopped along slightly behind her. She'd taken to calling it Bugs, since it's accent reminded her of the cartoon character. It started to talk again. Not interested in listening, Maya paused, turned to it and said, "Literally kiss my ass, Bugs. Please and thank you." She didn't want for the rabbit to respond before turning back to her original direction.

This was a disaster and Ryden was pretty sure he'd never been this irked in his entire life before. But then again, he felt the same way each time something pissed him off. And the wet bird sitting on his shoulder, refusing to just GO AWAY, was pissing him off something bad. It wasn't much of a problem that it dripped all over his shirt and constantly tried to shake the water off its feathers even though they never dried off, or the fact that it obviously had Tourette's, spitting out curses randomly like some angry little parrot with a very rude owner. It was the fact that it became more and more obnoxious around any amount of water or liquid, which in turn gave Ryden strange ideas he knew were definitely not his own. And, it was impossible to get away from it. First, it had the ability to fly. Second, it would magically appear on his shoulder even if he closed himself off someplace. He tried. He tried everything he could think of. Last resort - visit a witch. He went out with that plan in mind except... it didn't seem like he was the only one with an affliction. People were walking around with all sorts of critters attached to them, doing strange things like muttering to themselves or performing unusual tasks that just made them look like they were complete nutcases. A random guy for example, came up to him, screaming in his face that the end was near. When asked what was he talking about, he seemed confused. It only got worse in the city center. Where people would usually go about their business, they lingered, satisfying this or that newly acquired quirk with an obsessive compulsiveness. "Fuck me..." That was when Ryden passed by the fountain and he probably would not have noticed Bellamy if the stupid bird hadn't started squaking like mad in his ear. "SHUT THE HELL UP!!!" He growled, spooking some who'd passed by. Swiping at the bird angrily, he walked up to Bellamy. "What the fuck are you doing?!" It came out too angrily, but that wasn't Bella's fault.

Just like every other time Maya had tried to tell the creature to fuck off, it didn't work. But she had gotten pretty good at tuning chatter out in the last year. She kept walking towards the fountain. A few other people were out and about. Most seemed to be dealing with their own rude little creatures. Some seemed to be doing better with it than others. Someone shouting caused her to whip around to face them, immediately ready for a fight. But even with her heartbeat thundering in her ears, Maya recognized Ryden. She didn't recognize the blonde woman apparently cleaning the fountain. Neither of them poised an actual threat though. Slipping out of fight or flight, she unclenched her fists and relaxed her shoulders. Not knowing if he had noticed her reaction, Maya didn't say anything about it. The rabbit piped up with a "See, like that guy. Clearly, he needs to chill the fuck out." "Still a crime, my dude," she replied, not even bothering to look down at the creature. "So y'all got some little bastards too," she commented, noting the damp raven on Ryden's shoulder and the pink bat hovering around the woman. "Guess I should be glad its not just me."

"We're cleaning," Bellamy said of her and Lyn's activity, from the aggressive way Ryden had approached she anticipated his creature was being as kind to him as Lyn's was. "I broke nails, puppy," she pouted, holding up her hands that had lost about half of her acrylics. Thank god she healed fast otherwise the nails would have looked really gross. Behind him a woman with a rabbit spoke, unsure if she was telling Ryden he was committing some crime or the creature that it was. The pause in her cleaning though caused the bat to pull sharply on Bella's hair. "Ow," she winced, picking up the brush once more. "Everyone in town," she told the girl.(edited)

Ryden couldn't cope. This was a complete 'nope' situation. This was....* magic*. And magic was an unpredictable pile of bullshit you couldn't punch teeth out of to make it calm down. "Okay, okay..." He breathed in and out, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "We need a witch to figure this shit out. I can't deal with this shit. What the bloody hell are those?!" He pointed at Sarah's rabbit and Bella's bat. The raven on Ryden's shoulder provided a useless input. "FUCKERS!"

His reaction was strong, Bellamy often forgetting that some people couldn't quite go with the flow of all of this stuff. Lyn was human but clearly quite resilient like Bellamy was, while Ryden and the bunny girl weren't quite having the same time with it. "People are working on it, I've found it's just easiest to give in, granted...from the sounds of things what my fae wants me to do is pretty minimal in comparison to other people. I have to clean this fountain until it looks new, it's all the bloody bat will go on about it. He's calmer when I do...maybe do what it wants? Unless it's murder, don't murder."

Maya ran her fingers through her hair. She didn't like any of this either. Having been in plenty of shitty situations before though, this didn't even rank among them. Annoying, yes. Infuriating, yes. But not even close to the worst problem of her life. It was the trade-off she supposed of living in a town that was safe for supernaturals. Shit like this, whatever it was, happened. "People?" she asked, "Who are people?" There might very well be some agency that dealt with things like this, but she didn't like the vagueness of /people/. "And yeah, mine wants me to do a crime, so I'm going to stick with no," she added more as an afterthought than anything else.

"This is bullshit!" Ryden protested, this close to throwing a tantrum fit. He sat on the edge of the fountain, the part Bella wasn't cleaning, and thought really hard on what type of fae he knew about. Problem was, there were so many he didn't know where to start with. Hi was highly unqualified to deal with the situation. Eyeing Maya, he raised an eyebrow, curious. "What does it want you to do?"

The appearance of new people seemed to rile the python around Lyn's shoulders, and as much as she wanted to talk, to greet the others with her typical excitement, the snake held her in sway. It told her... Well, it told her a lot. It was as though it had been waiting for this, the entrance of new people, new things to tell, to urge her to tell. Lyn chewed on her lower lip anxiously, hearing just enough of Bella's explanation to manage to nod along. "Little allowances," She finally piped up, "Is there like... a halfway mark you can meet?" And then, in an example that no one but Bellamy would understand, since she already had an idea of what the scaled being around her neck could do. "Bella used to steal from the church collection plate. Just pennies. Sorry, Bells, but you were a kid, that's not that bad."

"I would assume some kind of city council?" Bellamy answered the woman, she was attempting to be helpful but it seemed to only be riling the two of them up further and further. She looked to see the girls answer to Ryden's question though, wondering what could be so terrible she'd be requested to do, but Lyn suddenly made an announcement, "Lyn!" Immediately she laughed however, not actually that concerned. "Let's be real, God didn't need pennies, I did, so I could get gum and warheads."

Maya was about to answer Ryden's question when someone else piped up. She didn't recognize them either. And wondered a little how she hadn't noticed them. She noted the blonde woman's name, Bella before returning to the question at hand. "Well, if anyone wants to let me borrow their kitchen and point me towards the nearest dispensary, I might be able to shut him up for an hour," Maya replied with a shrug. The pot and brownies part weren't an issue for her. But she drew a hard line at giving them out to unsuspecting people and not only because she was about 90% sure that was definitely a crime. Even if it wasn't a crime, it probably should be.

"I don't get it." Ryden said to Maya's explanation of what her fea wanted her to do. "There's a Ministry of Magic department at the City Hall but it's prolly packed full and everyone's puttin' in complaints. I went right by, the line is terrible." Ryden's leg started bouncing, the big man cracking his knuckles nervously. The raven on his shoulder was now pretty much screaming all sorts of colorful profanities, but the werewolf was growing desperately numb to the noise by the second. "How... is this relevant to the shit we're in??" He asked Lyn, who had shared a completely random piece of info all of a sudden about Bellamy's past.

"God totally doesn't need pennies, and neither did that church, I'm sure." Lyn agreed. The unknown woman drew her attention next, giving just enough hints about her own animal companion that Lyn could only drop her jaw in outright jealousy. "I'm sorry, can we trade? You have to make pot brownies, and I'm stuck with Snitchy, the Secret-Spilling-Snake?" The snake was obviously less than pleased with the nickname, giving a loud hiss that would have been audible for everyone around, and in an attempt to please it, Lyn looked at the only one in the group unfamiliar to her and asked, "What was it about the Wizard of Oz that made you cry? Was it scary? You know that rumour about the dead body is totally an urban legend, it's a bird. Also, hi, I'm Lyn, it's nice to meet you." The last bit was an afterthought, Lyn realizing belatedly that though the world had shifted some things needed to remain constant habits. Ryden's annoyance made her bristle slightly, something her snake reacted too pleasantly, and Lyn levelled a steady gaze at her neighbor, "The snake is telling me people's secrets, and it wants me to share them, you big fuckin' nerd." She said accusingly, the snake having given her a heads-up to some of Ryden's Netflix choices.

"You could always offer the brownies to people who like you know like pot, so like you're not giving them to people about to pick up their kid but instead gifting them to people who would already pay for them?” Bella mused, shrugging her shoulders. She did have a nice kitchen that she could offer but wasn't quite sure why the woman couldn't do it in her own and wasn't sure it would be polite to ask. "Personally I'm enjoying most of the secrets. I'm hoping to find out something juicy," she teased Lyn as she continued to clean. "How about you, puppy? What's that crow getting you worked up to do?"

"Shut up!" Ryden seconded Lyn's envy, now that he had figured out what Maya's fae spirit-induced compulsive behavior was. Lyn's accusation confused him momentarily, and Ryden made a face. "Gotta say, no one's called me a nerd b'fore but... okay I guess yer not in yer right mind right now." "Uuuh, I am not sure yet. It gits crazy near... water???" The raven was in a frenzy at the moment and everyone would probably struggle to talk over it's rude cawing.

Lyn stuck a hand up in the air at Bella's suggestion, volunteering herself, "Listen, you could make regular brownies and I'd take one, but if you're gonna start giving away special brownies... I will help you, I will do my best." She pressed a hand against her chest, although honour-bound to help the other woman with her plight at great sacrifice to herself. She waved off Ryden's confusion, although the questions were piled up in her mind, it was a personal quest at this point. Was he into Ghibli movies? Because who wasn't? Or was he secretly ninja-running down the apartment hallway when she wasn't looking? "Like... it wants you to swim? Or is water... bad?" She called out, trying to make her voice heard over the raven's noise. The one benefit to it's yelling was that it temporarily drowned out the soft voice of her snake.

"You're a nerd?" Bella asked teasingly, poking Ryden with one of her remaining false nails, having assumed most of that was directed at the other woman. "It's not telling you? Mine's got like a squeaky little whisper, I can't understand anyone else's though because if I could I'd just hang around Lyn until all of this went away getting to know everyone's secrets." The hand that had poked his calf gently rubbed it, knowing that a reminder they didn't know when the creatures would be going away could potentially stress him out further.

"Bugs here wants me to give out pot brownies without telling the people their pot brownies," Maya explained to Ryden. As for other avenues of placating it, she merely shrugged. Her lack of access to a kitchen remained a problem. But she didn't want to get in to that, especially not with a secret spilling snake around. Considering it was right that she had cried the first and only time she'd seen The Wizard of Oz, she didn't want to find out what else it knew about her. She didn't comment on it either though, hoping that the trend of the conversation would mean no one thought much of it.

"I mean, sure? I don't know, nerdy is a bit of a broad term, innit?" He shrugged, not really shook by the 'secret' Lyn had partially revealed about him. Ryden was shouting too, and louder than everyone else, because the stupid bird was right at his ear. "No, this is all it does, it projectile vomits crap like that." He pointed at it, the bird now cracking up some pretty nasty insults, usually limited to one noun only accompanied by maybe a couple of colorful adjectives. He had to think about it for a second. The raven shut up as he considered. "Sorry, Bella, I know you'll forgive me one day." He stood up and picked the petite woman up then plopped her carefully into the fountain. "Wet t-shirt contest. That's what it wants me t'do." At least he got it figured out now. The raven had jumped off his shoulder now, flying happy circles around his head, cackling. "Well, it is kinna funny. Like that 'go for a swim' challenge." He had to admit.

Lyn was watching the bird, wondering if she could ask her snake about it. She hadn't ever sought any information from it, it had been more than happy to just share, some secrets simple, easy, like the ones the assembled group had so recently brushed off. Some, though, were devestating, and these were the ones that were burrowing into Lyn, things she told herself she'd have to keep inside, things she couldn't even reveal she knew. She scrambled to the edge of the fountain when Ryden dumped Bella in, one hand clapped over her mouth as though in horror, but her laughter could be heard from behind as she peered over the edge at her friend. "Oh man... At least the fountain's clean-ish now..." Though she didn't think that would appease Bella any.

Bellamy frowned temporarily as he said that she would forgive him one day, feeling him grab her, the bat at her shoulder calming for a strange reason. "Puppy, wha-?" and she was cut off as her scuffed heels landed in the water, as did her jeans and half of her waist, the fountain surprisingly deep, Bellamy not suspecting it. She was ready to say she wasn't mad when he announced it was a wet t-shirt contest and Bellamy splashed him with a large amount of water. "Give us our wet t-shirt contest," she responded, unaware she had caught Lyn sitting by the fountain in the process, the other woman's legs as well. A smile on her face before suddenly her eyes went wide, "Something swam by my ankles!" she objected, wiggling in the water in the hopes of it swimming away.

Maya stifled a laugh as Ryden dropped Bella into the fountain. "Seems on par," she commented as far as the raven wanting him to throw people into water. The rabbit by her feet pointed out that maybe if he had some pot brownies, he might've been nicer about it. Maya ignored it. She did take a step back from the fountain though. Her jeans would take forever to dry and her other pair were dirty from a scuffle a few days back. "Yeah, I think your raven would definitely want you to participate in this contest," Maya teased Ryden. She looked towards Bella's ankles when the woman shouted about something swimming by them. But she didn't move any closer. The fountain wasn't big enough that it could be much more than a confused fish. At least, she didn't think it could be.

It was odd but just a moment ago, Ryden was practically fuming. Now, the bird's happiness over a thing as stupid as throwing someone into a fountain seemed to have made Ryden all giddy and amused. It was obviously influencing his mood. A chuckle coming up, he shrugged, taking off his already wet shirt without any protests. "I win. Who's next." He turned to Lyn, the second in line since Maya stepped away. "Who's nerdy again." He made grabby hands at her.

"Oh, like a big koi fish?" Lyn asked curiously, leaning even closer to the fountain as though expecting to see it full of large, beautiful fish. She hadn't realized that by moving closer to the fountain she'd put herself in danger of being Ryden's next victim. "No." She said, although the words were hardly commanding as she started scooting away from him, though not nearly fast enough, if he were serious about making her the next target. "Uh, still you," She shot back, although further antagonizing him was probably not the smartest move, Lyn couldn't help herself. If he grabbed her, she just knew she'd try to take him in as well, even if that meant clinging to his arm like an over-sized koala.

Ryden removing his shirt was enough to temporarily distract her, Bella letting out a teasing wolf whistle as she continued to fidget in the water. For a vampire she should have handled some kind of fish moving around her ankles better but a lot of the times Bellamy still had terribly human reactions. "Smaller, maybe there are like fish in here, or frogs," she said as she moved. When Ryden made Lyn his next victim though she readied herself to help Lyn pull him in if he tried. If his crow wanted them to be in the water then he deserved to be in it too.

As annoyed as she was, Maya couldn't help but wolf whistle when Ryden took off his shirt. It did worry her a little though that doing as the raven asked had affected his mood so much and positively. If it did that to everyone, they were all in trouble. More trouble anyway. The rabbit piped up again. "I really don't give a fuck," she told it, almost offhandedly. She still didn't move any closer to Ryden or Lyn. She had no desire to end up in the fountain. Especially not if there were frogs in there. "So, we have basically no idea where these creatures came from or when they're going to fuck off back where they came from. Do I have that right?" she asked.

"Oooh, yes." Now Ryden couldn't stop himself anymore. It was like an addiction - as soon as he did it once, he had to do it again and it was all he could think of. He went for Lyn, attempting to pick her up by her waist.

"I can't whistle," Lyn said with a frown and a shrug as Ryden stalked towards her. She certainly echoed the sentiments of the other two women, but lacked the ability to show it in the same way. She saw the look in his eyes, and knew it was over for her. She could only pout as he lunged for her, for all their previous jokes about fighting dirty she wasn't going to actually fight Ryden. She could, however, wrap her arms around his shoulders, forcing him to have to pry her off if she was going in the water. She was too distracted by a shirtless Ryden coming after her to focus too much on the stranger's words. For Lyn this was almost a regular day in Opulence, she was just telling herself to roll with the punches.

"I think so, I know it's kind of troublesome," Bellamy said to the girl whose name she had yet to catch, making sure she was still watching Ryden's movements against Lyn. "But it's kind of the punishment for getting to be here and be ourselves," she grinned, her focus shifting because Ryden began to put Lyn into the water, Lyn's slender arms around his broad shoulders. It was then Bella took the chance to grab Lyn's own shoulders, attempting to drag Ryden in with her, perhaps from the shock of her own strength he wouldn't have expected from Lyn. A splash came as at least one of them entered the water, hoping both had.

Maya nodded. She'd forgotten in the commotion that she hadn't mentioned her own name. But it didn't seem overly important anyway. It still didn't quite feel real that she could stay here safely. Her eyes tracked Ryden & Lyn though, still trying to stay out of that.

He had a very good chance of winning this one against Lyn. But when Bella came to her aid, her vampiric strength just enough to spoil Ryden's plans, he rolled into the fountain too, laughing his heart out. He raven seemed bery happy with the situation as well, bouncing merrily along the edge of the fountain. Sitting up in the water, Ryden rubbed a wet hand over his face. "This is bad... I can't stop laughing now. I gotta..." He tried to stand up while struggling with a fit of giggles, his mood doing a 180 now that he was actually doing what his fae wanted him to do. "I gotta... git that one as well." He announced, pointing at Maya,who was the only one left standing.

Lyn let out a small, gleeful shriek through gritted teeth as she felt Bella's hands on her shoulders, "Go, Bells, go!" She tried to cheer her friend on, sucking in a deep breath and holding it seconds before the vampire pulled them down into the water. She bobbed up beside Ryden, scrambling to her feet, plucking at the now super clingy fabric of her top, a very pissed-off python now more like a turtleneck collar around her neck, though Lyn tried to be unbothered by it. "This is why I always wear black," She muttered, stepping over towards Bella, her words making it sound like werewolves chucking her bodily into fountains was a daily threat.

Bellamy wrapped her arms around Lyn's middle as she got up, putting a chin on her shoulder, though Lyn could feel it at her neck Bella merely felt shadows there, nothing to interrupt her movement. "Well thank god you do wear black, though this could be the perfect time for robes," she teased Lyn, poking her stomach softly. "If you can even get out of this fountain," she taunted Ryden as she held her friend to protect her from the frogs and fish in the water. It was probably four feet deep based on Bella's own height, so leverage was the real issue of getting out rather than strength.

Immediately, Maya tensed again. Logically, she knew it wasn't that big a deal. After all, her clothes would dry and no one meant her any real harm. But the thought of being physically picked up and tossed, no matter how playfully, set off her already frayed nerves. "Go for it, if you want to get kneed in the balls," she replied, playing it off with a joke. She just hoped that Ryden couldn't see through her as easily as he had that first night at the bar.

Lyn settled her hands on Bella's arms as the girl wrapped around her, turning just enough so that the vampire could see her stick her tongue out in response to her teasing. "Quiet, you." She moved her hands only to clap as Maya seemed to square off with Ryden, "My money's on the girl!" She called.

Ryden couldn't seen anything right now - he was laughing so hard that tears started welling up. And lucky for Maya, this made it very hard for him to stand up and actually get out of the fountain. "Hahaha hahahaha pfffff, okay, okay, gimmie a minute..." The raven, all content now, bounced back onto Ryden's shoulder, ruffling its wet feathers before it nestled there. "Aww, man... Lookit that. He's so happy. I think he's sad he's the only one all wet all the time. That's actually kinna cute." Ryden reached out to give the rave a scratch on its head but it called him a bitch so he changed his mind. "Yeah, nevermind, he's an asshole." Now that he's calmed down a little, he gave getting out of the fountain another try. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Ya take that ball kneedin' elsewhere, I ain't interested. Ya'll guys need help?" He asked Bella and Lyn - he got them in there, he can take them out.

Bella resisted the urge to make a joke at Lyn's expense, knowing it would have probably been gentle teasing if it was the two of them but potentially embarrassing with Ryden within ear shot. "Clearly you just need to stay in the water forever, you'll get very pruney," she said instead of Ryden's wet crow. "Help Lyn out first, that way she can stand on my hands." Bella had a bit more strength and with Ryden's help it would be easy, not so much for Lyn.

"That water is really dirty." Colette said staring over the soaking wet group. She thought about passing without a word but couldn't help herself. Seeing Bella and Lyn she couldn't help but laugh.

As Ryden struggled to get out of the fountain, Maya relaxed. Not all the way, but enough that she could pass it off for just being annoyed with the rabbit. "Gladly," she replied with an almost real smile when he, at least seemed to, change his mind about putting her in the fountain. Still a little cautious, she moved forward. "Here, I can help," she said, offering Lyn a hand. "C'mon Doc, just do it," the rabbit argued, "See how happy it made that big lug. You can be happy too." "Will it make you less of a dick?" she asked, still not looking down at it.

Lyn waded through the water to the edge of the fountain, throwing her hand up in a wave to Colette, "Trying not to think about that, thanks!!" She gave Ryden the finger, and reached instead for the hand of the girl she didn't know yet, using it to try and pull herself up onto the stone edge of the fountain, relying, too, on Bella's offered help. "My middle name is Eleanor," She offered, though no one had asked, at least by now no one was questioning it. At least she wasn't throwing people into fountains. "I lie and tell people I don't have one because I hate it!"

"Fine, struggle. Eleanor." Ryden shrugged at the finger Lyn flipped at him, then just bounced out of the fountain, no problem. "Ugh... where my shirt at?" He tried to shake some of the water off but his pants were completely soaked so it was no use. At least he found his shirt quickly enough. He used it to wipe himself down. Once Bella and Maya were done helping Lyn, he reached out to help Bella.

Bella frowned as Ryden went to find his shirt, taking a moment for her to realise he was coming back. "It's cleaner than usual," Bella told Colette, "I've been cleaning the fountain all day but yeah...the inside is still pretty moldy." When Ryden offered his hand she grabbed it, leveraging herself out, letting him go once she had a knee on the edge and was able to pull herself from the water that dripped off her clothes, clinging to her skin as it did Lyn's. "Can we request secrets?" she asked, coming to her feet and squeezing out her shirt. "Because I think after that we deserve Ryden's middle name."

"Oh shit," Maya said, realizing when Lyn offered her middle name that she'd neglected to introduce herself. "Maya by the way. I'm Maya." She half laughed as she said it, knowing it was odd she hadn't mentioned it earlier. She blamed the whole situation. "Awww boo," she teased Ryden when he pulled his shirt back on. When Bella asked about requesting secrets, Maya fell silent. She didn't think anyone really cared, but she'd rather keep her secrets to herself.

"You've been cleaning the fountain all day?" Said with a raise of her eyebrow. That was a strange thing for a vampire bar owner to spend the day doing. "It does look nice." Colette admitted.

Lyn let out a groan at Ryden's words, regretting giving that one away immediately. All the same, it was easier to bare her own embarassing secrets than others. She'd keep doing this to herself as long as she could if it meant saving others the potential pain. "Please don't call me Eleanor," She asked Maya, "Lyn, my name is Lyn. Nice to meet you, even though this is really fuckin' weird." Outside of the fountain she knelt down to pull off one of her boots, planning to empty them of water. Bella's question made her grin, and Lyn turned to the snake, who reared it's head up to face her, and Lyn reached out with a finger, stroking the underside of the snake's head curiously, "What do you think? Do we get to know?" The snake said nothing, but as if she'd heard a great revelation, Lyn gave a dramatic gasp, turning her gaze to Ryden, bright blue eyes wide in faux-shock. "Eunice!? Ryden Eunice. Oh, it's got a lovely ring. Is that a family name?"

Still rubbing his face with his shirt, Ryden peeked out at Lyn, giving her a raised eyebrow look. "I don't know, if we're talkin' 'bout middle names, mine's Douglas and I ain't nearly as embarrassed over it as you are." At Maya's booing, he offered her a charming wink. Glancing at Colette, he looked disappointed. "Why are you normal?"

"That is what the bat wants me to do," she said, gesturing to the creature that peaked out from beneath her hair to Colette. "Thank you," Bella gushed at the compliment, giggling quickly as Lyn insisted that Ryden's middle name was Eunice, part of her would have believed it, his first name and last were relatively cool, something had to offset them. "Ryden Douglas Bolt, Ryden Eunice Bolt..., I mean...both sound like real names," she mused, releasing the fabric of her shirt. Honestly Bella wanted to press for secrets about Kemper, but she knew it would put Lyn in an awkward position, and if it got out that she wanted to ask then it could potentially get back to him that she wanted to. "Shit," Bella whispered to herself, realising she'd incidentally created a secret by thinking too much. "Is she normal tho?" Bellamy refocused on Colette. "I know she has a bee that's apparently a bit of a bee-itch." With that she giggled, sitting down on the fountain and continuing to clean.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure its Eunice now," Maya teased Ryden. She didn't add her own middle name since it was neither important nor funny. Her middle name was just a form of her mother's name, the mother she'd lost when she was 8. "What does it want you to do?" she asked Colette, curious if there was any kind of trend across the creatures.

Lyn looked over at Bella, shrugging a shoulder, "Snake doesn't tell me shit that I actually wanna know." Then, though, the snake did speak, and Lyn rolled her eyes at the hissing, shaking her head as she kept her gaze on Bella, "You want me to tell you all the dirt on your new boyfriend. Nope. You have to ask him yourself." She told the vampire, and followed her gaze to the witch, glad to see Colette rather unscathed with everything that was going on. "You have a bee? Cool!" She'd dumped out one boot, and moved on to the next, a small puddle at her feet from all the water dripping off her.

"I don't think you mentioned that to me," Bella said, looking to Colette with Maya's question lingering in the air of what her bee was asking of her. "Maya potentially needs a kitchen to complete hers, maybe the community college? Probably some potheads there you could give brownies to successfully," she mused, not because they were in community college but because there was a large segment of people in their twenties likely to be chill with it. However her cheeks grew in size, not going red due to her species but growing in size to show she was blushing. "That's childish, not boyfriend, guy I slept with," Bellamy said, shaking her head, even though she'd been the childish one discussing robes all day. "I don't want to know secrets, I just like...want to know if he's single." Lie, she didn't care, she was quite certain she was better looking and capable of pulling him away from any girlfriend he had. "Or like if I need to get checked." Lie, mostly because she couldn't catch anything. "Or, you know, just -," she cut herself off and shut up. She was terrible at lying when she knew there was no way Lyn was buying any of it. "I will ask him myself, yes."

#lynnichols #mayarparker #wolfontheloose #colettescoven #group

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twistedsimblr · 5 years

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Pt. 4 of this AU my buddy was doing My grammar sucks I know that.

@omg-puddingpie I’ve had this idea for a while and wanted to share it I hope you like it it stars your boys...Adam and Armand...

I’m so tired... So fucking tired... I can’t remember the last time I slept soundly. Ever... ever since she told me... That night. At prom. And I’m like 90% sure that I didn't knock her up in the back of Adams Car.. but like. before she was kicked out of her Catholic High School that was a week or so before we did that .. I’ll tell you more about that later it was friggin juicy though.

“I’m fucking scared to death but.. oddly happy at the same time?” “She’s not convinced I’m going to step up and you know... be a dad.. I don’t exactly have the safest job but it provides with a lot of money in a short period of time. I get pretty roughed up every now She hates that.. But she’s always there to help lick my wounds when they happen.. Not literally.. Never mind.

But I wouldn't change it for the world I’m a natural born fighter a survivor.

Street life is all I know... My parents were other criminals I know they don’t care about me But I can’t get out of it now. Or I’ll be forced to push her away to keep her safe. . Something... I had to do in the past ..

Those were the darkest days of my life.

I don’t belong to a gang or anything . But I would often be sought out by some to do dirty work. Money is money you know. And Ive got enough right now to lie low a while with my Meg.

I had to focus on bettering my self like my education. I’m fucking smart I’m not sure if that’s an alien part of me but I could some how manage to skip a week of school,

and still manage to hold a high mark I mean I’m not an an A student Ive gotten some C’s D’s and If I’m lucky an B.

Everyone thinks I’m already nuts anyway so.. imagine how crazy they think I’ll be when Ive started constructing a rocket somewhere haha.

But there were some subjects that I’d get A’s in like Science... Math not so much but I wasn't horrible at it either not like... Meg.. But they put me in a remedial math class . ..

“ DUDE!” I heard pipe up from behind me as my chair crashed against it sending the desk behind me crashing into the one behind it and so forth like dominoes

As I fell flat on my ass. The class erupted in a thunderous roar of laughter.. I mean. I’m the class clown after all. But I was actually trying to be good today.

“Malikor?” Malikor?”.... Shit... I must have zoned out again.. Because a thousand eyes were upon me as they shifted their gazes across and over their shoulders at me still giggling.. . My eyes scanned my class mates...

And my Teacher staring me down.. “Uhhhh...” I said barely able to open both eyes at once... I heard someone whisper. Something about me being stoned. Or drunk... the usual me stuff.

I’d only dozed off for a second I know I had. ... At least I thought I had.

My ass was saved by the sweet sound of the bell and I bolted out there as fast I could until I was grabbed by my teacher. “Mr Kregore..” “This is the third time this week you've fallen asleep in my class.. .. Is-

I turned around every 6’3 and half of me .. I towered over her. I was not a small teen by any means.. and the look on her face almost made me wonder if she regretted this moment. And she probably was going to in a minute or two. Because before she could even open her mouth I opened mine first and I’ve got kind of a big mouth... I’m a rebel after all.

“ Look, I know what you’re going to say.. is everything fine at home?” And I’m gunna be like That’s really none of your damn business and don’t try to make it your business alright?” “ Have a nice day.” I shrugged her off and made my exit..

I had to get to my next class...

It was that ECE class I told you about... The most pointless class for me to be a part of, at least... until now. For once I wasn't late .. But I wasn't on time either .. I timed my arrival to avoid like suspicion that I gave a damn about this crap... I don’t but I kind of have to.

I took my seat hovering around my half bro his bf and his little gaggle of friends that just so happened to be in the class .. Adams typical shy reserved smile changed to that of horror when he took one look at me. From Armand. “You look like hell. You okay.. Is Meg-

I hushed him before he could finish. As the teacher walked in ...

“Good Afternoon Class.”

My name is “ Ms Duffy I will be covering for Mrs. Breslin today while she’s out. I kept one eye on the teacher and one on Adam as we quickly had a conversation about some random bullshit. Only giving my full attention when my last name was called. However , that changed once again when She reached the S’s and called out Megan’s last name and I looked around and saw she was absent.

Not good.. I hate this class just as much as she does Why the hell do I need to endure this torture alone.

“ Miss Bella Goth..” Who rolled her eyes seeming to be annoyed that she was pulled away from more important matters like gossiping. “Have you seen Miss Shortt?” “ No... no I haven’t” “ As her gaze shifted from the teacher her dark brown eyes fell upon me and a mischievous smile crossed her ridiculously perfect lips. I was nervous and it showed...

She was my Ex and was a notorious trouble maker. Me I’m a petty trouble maker. Bella was just pure evil I mean hell I’m convinced she’s a witch but everyone thinks she so sweet... she can be with her family.

“ As a matter of fact I have seen Meg.” She wasn't feeling well earlier and saw her in the bathroom about a few moments ago.”

“Oh dear!” “Would you go and check on her and take her to the nurse?”

Bella held her gaze on me.. “I’d be delighted to do that.”

I dug my claws into the desk.. Scraping some of the finish off of it.

They tend to come out when I’m mad. .. Adam looked at me... Armand looked at me they were the only ones who knew.. Bella knows too but she’s also the gossip queen and that shit spreads like wildfire... It will eventually but Not today... Not today satan not today.

I had to act fast but just before I could to my astonishment Adam stood in for me . And in a frantic panic started a charade “Ms Duffy” Ms Duffy I have to pee like real bad real bad I have an “erection.” Er .... I couldn't hold back a laugh and snorted ...” “You mean infection?” I corrected him as I slowly got out of my seat. Among the laughter.

“YES A REALLY BAD INFECTION AND IF I DON’T TAKE IT ..um.. um a certain way It won’t get better..” The teachers eyes grew wide but she was stunned enough that I could sneak out of class. Everyone was distracted by Adams bold move.

“Butt it can wait!.”

The class burst into giggles . And Ms Duffy huffed. “ I know all about your little friend Malikor. He’s a bad influence he put you up to this didn't he? “

“ He’s more than that... He’s my brother..” Armand piped up from his desk all excited. “From another Mother!”

Adam shrugged. “ You’re not wrong.”

with a wink.”

I snuck out the door.. Before someone could say I was making a get away I quickly caught up to Bella who was just about to enter the girls washroom down the hall.

“Oh no you don’t!” Thinking quickly I grabbed a package of mentos and a coke from the vending Machine. Even if Meg was in there she wouldn't come out especially for Bella. She doesn't trust very many people .. except me Adam and who we hang out with.

“Meg?” Bellas voice called out... Taking a moment to talk to her friends she suddenly saw. allowing Meg to groan... with out being heard. Taking a moment to steady herself unsure if she was going to vomit again. She peeked out of her stall and watched all hell break loose.

I teleported in bat form.. I mean most chicks hate bats.I had an idea they had no idea it was me.. Neither did Meg I think.

I swooped down on all the inhabitants of the washroom who were blissfully unaware of my arrival seconds ago. “ Blood curdling screams exploded from the area as I fluttered around as if I had rabies or something foaming at the mouth From the mentos and coke I just swallowed..

“SOMEBODY GET THE JANITOR!” “EWW EWW OMG EWWW GET IT AWAY GET IT AWAY.

AHHHHH!! Swarms of girls fled in all directions out of the bathroom screaming bloody murder causing an uproar down the hall... Bella included.

“Whew....” I said taking a moment to catch my breath.returning to my former self .. “M.K?”..I heard a rasp. “Meg?” I answered my voice soaked in concern..”

I nearly kicked down the stall door. And saw her semi slumped over the toilet.... That i reached over and flushed for her.. Looked like all she’d been doing for like 10 minutes is throwing up. She looked so weak she nearly fell into me..

“I don’t feel so good”....She managed a weak smile “I lifted up her chin to look at me “You don’t look good either..”

“ The twins are sucking the life out of you...” Or just nutrients it’s probably just that.” “You need to eat more... like a ton more Don’t worry I promise you you won’t get fat I uh... kinda looked into what happens when a stupid vampire hybrid fucks and gets a human pregnant. ... They can eat you from the inside out..

“ Megs eyes widened... “I’m kidding” But they can basically turn you into a walking skeleton if you don’t watch your weight like... maintain it by eating more... ..

Meg raised a brow... Isn't that from Twilight?... Twi what? I asked.

She moaned. Ugh I’m so bloated...I couldn't even wear pants today. I looked down and saw her in a blue and white knee length skirt something I didn't see often. Tied at the waist she looked...nice all things considering. She wore tights underneath it..

She likely was trying to hide the obvious she was abnormally large for 4 to 5 weeks .. I mean she looked bloated but not pregnant but she definitely was pregnant her boobs looked bigger too well slightly... They were even more distracting. It was weird.

. I gave her my bomber jacket which nearly engulfed her and watched her as she took a drink from the fountain before heading back to class. I picked her up... because I’m manly like that.

Before we got there I paused and looked down at her “ You sure you’re well enough for this?”

“ This is kind of important I can’t miss this regardless of how I feel..”

I leaned down and kissed her forehead. As I set her down. Luckily the class was dark when we walked in. .. Oh boy this was awkward... Right at the part where some asshole cums like me cums inside of a girl and the miracle of life takes place science crap.

Suddenly Chester blurted out

“It’s a miracle of life!” His expression totally changed when he saw me appear behind her..

“ Never mind...”

We took our seats. I mean the teacher noticed we came back at least we did Who knows where Bella went.

She seemed surprised I’d snuck out how was beyond her.

I could have almost fell asleep during this sex ed bit... again.

But at the same time it made me super amazed and almost curious what on earth could be going on in Megs soft tiny body. ..

I wanted so badly to put my hand on her stomach my babies were in there after all.

As she pulled a chair up from the back sitting away from me as all the other desks were taken.

I couldn't take my eyes off her... And in the corner of her eye I could see her grinning her cheeks slightly flushed . When she did look at me I finally looked away. I was so worried about her though.

When the lights came on, to my surprise I wasn't questioned why I left.. I was simply handed an assignment probably a multi question thing about what the hell I just saw. And what not as this was kinda biology too.. It was a joke really .. For giggles i drew a dick on mine...

Now here came the shocking part.. That.. wasn't all of it . Apparently we had another assignment that Mrs Breslin planned out for us.. She pulled out a small doll.. Oh fuck no... No I’m not ready... I could feel myself starting to sweat. A baby? We had to care for a baby?...

“ This will be good for you Meg....” Chester began nonchalantly . As he sat across from Meg “I mean considering we all know what happened with you and M.K at your last school... While we were on a break....To where we agreed we weren't gunna see anyone..’”

Gasps filled the room... “

I couldn't hold back. “That’s BULLSHIT!” You dated for a MONTH! I turned around almost ready to jump out of my seat. “You and your STORIES!”

“So it is true then?” Bella spoke up.. You knocked her up..” ..

“Coming from someone whose period is always late.” Couldn't

find the janitor could you? Have you fucked him yet . “You’ll fuck anything.

“Yeah so will you or did you... You were always a fuck up M.K.. “I’m sorry I could have sworn you cheated on me not the other way around...” I snarled.

“Why are you so obsessed with me?! I growled.. You’re like bent on ruining me.” I don’t get it. “

“You’re right I am.. she smiled. “ It took me weeks to clear up that sti you gave me!

More shocked gasps filled the room until the teacher intervened MALIKOR ! CHESTER! AND BELLA ! THAT’S ENOUGH.. ALL OF YOU TO THE PRINCIPALS OFFICE NOW!.

Bella looked at me her eyes flashing dangerously. “This isn't over.. ..

“ We ended like 5 or 6 months ago get over it..” There’s no winning me back. You fucked up not me”

Bella fell quiet. As the three of us made our way to the principals.

. The class was silent The teacher called Meg up to the front...Shortly after I was sent away. “Your assignment is going to be slightly altered due to your circumstances... You may go over it with Malikor later..

I’m sorry this happened to you..

“Wait what?” Meg asked. As she walked away. . “Are you insinuating that Mal raped me?” She tried to back track her words.... As Meg put her self in reverse.

“That was the best day of my life..” Excitement you’re never going to see in your life time.”

I sat there in the chair Bella and Chester staring at me as if they were waiting for me to start talking. I mean what I did was pretty bad ass in terms of being a “bad boy” type I mean I followed my girl friend who was going to a different school a Catholic school at the time.

To a religious retreat where rooms were in separate parts of the building girls on one area guys in another. And fucked her. Like I said I’m 90 percent sure that’s how I got her pregnant.. She had to come to my school to finish her semester I’m going to make sure she stays..

The door cracked open behind us and we all turned to look and I couldn't believe what I was seeing.. It was Meg.. When our eyes met. Her features contorted into that of amusement.. Forcing me to do the same.

“What did you do?” I asked with half a chuckle going. ..Before I could say anything else she walked by me to take a seat in front of me but she stopped beside me leaned down and kissed me passionately. I reached up and groped one of her breasts... right in front of those other two but she pushed my hands down away from her. “ Later..”

“ No fair..” I breathed

“I've been wanting to do that all after noon.” She whispered before taking a seat in front of me.

Oh man the looks on Bella and Chester’s faces .. You should have been there hahaha.

#long post #saviorhide #comments are appreciated

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pengychan · 6 years

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[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt. 4

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[Tag with all chapters up here.]

[Also on Ao3]

A/N: I finished proofreading this while half-drunk at the airport. Here's hoping that's not too obvious.

***

Considering that Ernesto had absolutely no clue what the hell he was even doing, he thought things were going rather well.

His way of handling things had definitely raised a few brows, of course, but no one had called his bluff and no one was chasing him with sticks demanding to know what he’d done with the real priest - funny story, that. So he counted it as a success.

He’d even remembered how to handle the Rite of Eucharist, even if he’d maybe gulped down more wine than he should have, because at one point he could have sworn he’d seen Sister Sofia licking her lips while staring at him from her place among the other nuns. He’d blinked and she looked perfectly normal, so he must have imagined it - a sure sign he’d gone too long without a woman.

Other than that, all was well. The Mass was over, everyone go in peace or something, and his cover was still up - a rather original priest from out of town. Even that bag of laughs of the Mother Superior seemed to suspect nothing. She looked slightly perplexed, maybe, but nothing more. He could pull this off for as long as it was needed.

If he didn’t know that would look odd, Ernesto would have patted himself on the back; instead, he just settled for exchanging pleasantries and nods with the parishioners as they began leaving the church… only that quickly enough the steady line towards the exit came to a halt, and a few murmurs went through the crowd, causing Ernesto to blink.

“Who may that be?”

“A gringo…?”

“Mamá, why is that man pink?”

What the…?

The crowd seemed to suddenly part in two, like the Red Sea before Moses - look, mamá, I’m getting the hang of this priest thing - and walking up to him there was… well, it was a gringo all right, with straw-like hair and beard. And, unless that town had somehow become a beacon for chronic liars in clergy clothes, he was also a priest.

Uh-oh.

“Father Ernest,” the man called out, and took another step forward, bowing his head slightly. It was only the two of them before the altar, everyone else several steps away. Ernesto had enough time to wonder if he was really talking to him, but not enough say anything - let alone to correct him on his name - before he spoke again. “Laudetur Jesus Christus.”

Ernesto blinked. “I don’t speak English,” he said, only realizing his mistake when the priest - Ernesto had never in his life seen someone so ridiculously pink - blinked, taken aback.

“Wha–” he began, only to trail off when someone suddenly laughed uproariously and grasped Ernesto’s cassock.

“Hahahaha! Good one!” Miguel exclaimed, grinning up at both of them. Where had he come from? “It was funny, wasn’t it? Padre Ernesto tells the best jokes!” he added, and the grip on the cassock tightened. Realization - he knew - hit Ernesto like a jolt, but he managed not to make his shock plain. Despite the fact his heart seemed to have sunk somewhere in the vicinity of his kneecaps, Ernesto managed to smile.

“I can never resist,” he said, gaining himself a less than impressed look from the other man - who was, very clearly, allergic to fun. Still, his gaze softened when he looked at Miguel.

“Oh, the altar boy,” he said. His Spanish was… passable, Ernesto supposed, but the accent was so thick it made some words quite hard to understand. “Good afternoon. I’m Father John. And you are…?”

“Miguel. I, uh, really need to speak to Padre Ernesto a minute here, but I’ll give him back–”

“It won’t be long, Michael,” Father John said, causing Miguel to blink in confusion and Ernesto to frown. “Father Ernest and I–”

“Ernesto,” Ernesto found himself saying, more coldly than he should have. He had to shed who he was, and he had to shed his surname, but the name his parents had given him was still his own and like hell he’d let some sunburnt gringo twist it. “I was christened Ernesto, with an o at the end. And his name is Miguel.”

It was as though he had said nothing at all. “–Have some matters to discuss,” he finished, and turned those unnerving watery eyes back to him. Ernesto met his gaze with an unimpressed look of his own. In a way, annoyance was a blessing: it kept him from freaking out over the fact that, well, the altar boy had caught him out.

“Sure thing, Padre Juan,” he said, his voice tight, and the faint smile on Father John’s face faded.

Good.

He fully expected a cold remark, but just then Héctor approached with quick steps, waving off the small crowd that had been standing a few steps away. They seemed to get the message and resumed walking out of the church, although several of them paused to glance back, clearly puzzled. The nuns, too, looked perplexed as they passed by. Soon enough, there was only them in the church… and a very confused-looking Gustavo somewhere in the back.

“We had no idea there would be a visitor,” Héctor said, smiling widely. His voice seemed to echo in the church. “Welcome among us, Padre… I’m sorry, I did not catch that. My ears were kind of ringing a bit. The organ, you know?”

“Juan,” Ernesto quipped.

“John,” the gringo said pointedly, then smiled at Héctor. “I supposed you are the novice Father Edmund spoke of so highly of in his letters. Brother Hector, is that it?”

He pronounced it funny, but at least his name was spared. Héctor nodded. “That would be me, yes. Did you say Padre Edmundo wrote to you?”

A nod, and Father John turned back to Ernesto. The smile had already faded. “I understand that you have only just arrived in this parish,” he said. “Fresh out of seminary, I assume.”

Fresh out of the army and oh, did I learn a thing or two there I’d like to do right now.

“You could say that,” Ernesto said instead, his voice carefully controlled, gaining himself another nod.

“I have been in touch with your predecessor, may God take him in His glory. He kindly said he’d let me stay for a time. I have been traveling Mexico for the past year--”

“Vacation?” Ernesto guessed. The guy had noticeable self-control, he had to give him that, but this time he just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

“I am on a mission, on behalf of the Holy Catholic Church,” he said, his voice tight. It made his awful accent even worse, somehow. “To evangelize the people of this country.”

Ernesto blinked, and turned to Héctor, who looked back at him at an absolute loss. Not help there, then. Wondering if he hadn’t simply heard wrong - he was hard to understand at times, really - Ernesto cleared his throat. “You might be… a few centuries too late.”

“The work of God is never done.”

“No, I mean… you are. Everyone and their dog is already Catholic,” Ernesto pointed out, and the gringo glowered at him.

“Surely you jest,” he muttered. “Although this is no jesting matter. Animals lack souls. They cannot possibly be Catholic.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“I didn’t mean that literally. Either way, the fact stays that we’re all Catholic. So sorry you had to waste a trip. But if you’d like to stay a night or two before you move on someplace else where your help is needed--”

“From what I have seen today, I believe my help is needed here and now. Especially during Lent, I believe it quite important that the holy Mass is held properly,” Father John cut him off, and Ernesto held back a groan. All right, so this guy clearly was not a fan of the spin he’d put to the traditional mass. Can’t please everyone and all that, but did he really have to be such a miserable pain in the ass?

“Well, things are still a bit, uh. As you said, I just arrived. But I guarantee we are all Catholic, so it would be rather redundant to bring over Catholicism all over aga--”

“I am talking of proper Catholicism, Father Ernest,” the man said, tilting up his chin. “Not the watered down kind you practice here, laced with pagan fetishes and superstition.”

Hijo de tu puta madre, Ernesto thought. It was a very tempting retort to utter, if a decidedly un-priestly one - and maybe the thought had showed on his face, because suddenly there was another very urgent pull at his cassock and Miguel was speaking fast.

“No! I mean-- that’s really interesting, Padre Jua-- Father John!” he blurted out, and smiled, ignoring how both Ernesto and Héctor were blinking down at him. “Why don’t you hold mass for a while? As our guest?”

That caused the gringo to blink before the surprise melted in a smile that was surprisingly warm. “I’d be happy to, if Father Ernest is willing to let me.”

“Wha--” Ernesto began to protest, only to trail off when Miguel’s foot suddenly stomped down on his - a sudden, painful reminder of two things: that the boy knew, and that he couldn’t hold mass for shit. “Agh! I mean - ah, what a good idea!”

Héctor frowned, eyes shifting between them. “Miguel, are you all--”

“Never been better! But now I think I really need to borrow Padre Ernesto for a minute. Or two. Or twenty,” he exclaimed, grinning widely, and began dragging Ernesto towards the sacristy. “Why don’t you show Father John around? Gustavo can look after his… horse?”

“I came with a donkey.”

“An ass on top of an ass,” Ernesto muttered under his breath, and held back a yelp when Miguel swiftly kicked his shin. Within moments they were back in the sacristy, and Miguel was slamming the door shut behind them. “That kick was entirely unnecess--”

“Who are you?” Miguel demanded to know, crossing his arms, and Ernesto shut his mouth.

Oh, he thought. Right. He figured it out. Should have left him to drown.

“I…” he began, glancing around the sacristy. He had left his gun in his room, hidden in the mattress, but he wouldn’t need that to overpower a child. He could smother him easily. But still, how could he get away without anyone noticing? Witnesses had seen him entering the room with Miguel; even if he got out from the back door after dealing with him, he… he…

“You are not a priest,” Miguel said, arms still crossed, but he didn’t look hostile; rather, he seemed curious - the way kids can be, and the full implications of what he’d been thinking hit him like a bucket of cold water. For a moment he could see the glare of the sun on the barrel of his gun and Alberto’s unprotected back in front of him, and smell gunpowder and blood in the air… only that now he wasn’t looking at a grown man at all.

A kid, Jesus Christ, he was standing there thinking of how to best kill a kid.

“Uh, Padr-- Ernest-- señor?” Miguel’s voice reached Ernesto as though from a mile away; there was no mirror for him to look into nearby, but if there were, he was fairly sure he would have found himself staring at a face as pale as ash. He staggered backwards, and his back hit the wall.

“I…” he began, and swallowed. He could taste bile in the back of his throat. If he’d had a gun at had, if not for that gringo and for Héctor just out of the door, what would have have done? “Miguel, I… how…?”

Entirely unaware of the thoughts that had been storming through his mind, Miguel shrugged. “I saw you trying to read the Bible. You didn’t just decide to do things differently, right? You don’t know any Latin.”

“I…” Ernesto swallowed again. His mouth felt dry as sandpaper. “No. I don’t know Latin.”

“So you are not a priest.”

“... No. I need to know, did you tell anyone--”

“Of course not!” Miguel exclaimed, cutting him off, and now he seemed offended. “You kept the secret when you found me at the stream and I wasn’t supposed to, remember?”

Ernesto blinked. That… wasn’t the reply he had expected, but it made sense, in a childish kind of way. Won’t tell if you don’t. “Ah,” he said, and sighed in relief. “That.”

“And I know people would assume all the wrong things, like, that you’re a spy from the government,” Miguel went on, rolling his eyes and not realizing the way Ernesto had stilled. “They see spies in every newcomer - I bet they’ll watch that gringo like hawks now. They think I don’t understand what they’re talking about, but I do. So maybe they would get the wrong idea, but I know better,” he added, and grinned. “You’re a good guy.”

“... Am I now?”

Miguel nodded, in a way only a nine year old stating the tenets of the universe can. “Yes! You saved me from the stream, kept it a secret, and then taught me a song,” he declared, counting each feat on his fingers. “That’s good guy stuff. You can’t be with the government.”

Ernesto blinked for a few more moment before giving a guffawing laugh. What a childish, simplistic world view… and how very convenient for him. “No,” he said, and crouched down to be closer to Miguel’s eye level. “I am not with the government. Not anymore.”

For a moment, the boy seemed to falter. “Anymore…?”

“I was forced to join the army, and escaped.” Shot a man in the process, but all wars have their casualties. “Now I’m hiding from them.”

“Oh, I see. They forced some men from here to join, too. So you switched sides?”

“No,” Ernesto replied, more harshly than he’d meant to. “I have no side. I want no part in this war at all. I’m just trying to live through it - I’m a musician, not a damn soldier.”

Miguel nodded. “Oh, that’s why you’re so good at playing and singing! And that’s why you’re pretending to be a priest… without knowing Latin. You didn’t plan this very well, did you?”

Ernesto rubbed the back of his neck. “Planning is… not my greatest talent. I met the priest who was sent here from Oaxaca on the way, but he was caught up in a fight. Didn’t make it. That’s when I decided to take his place. I seized my moment,” he added. It sounded better than ‘I am sort of winging it as I go’, which was the overly honest version.

The notion seemed to sadden the boy, but only for a few moments. After all, they were talking about a man he had never met nor known. “Will they hang you if they catch you?” he asked, and suddenly sounded excited. Ernesto did not like that.

“... Very likely. I’d rather not find out, though,” he added, reaching up for his throat.

“Fair enough. Good thing I can help you!”

Ernesto blinked. “What?” he asked, and Miguel grinned, starting to pace back and forth.

“Yes, it’s perfect! That gringo arrived just at the right time!”

“Wha--”

“Everyone will focus on him! And he can say mass while you learn Latin!”

“I am not going to learn--”

“All right, maybe not that, but you can memorize the stuff you need to say! I did,” the boy cut him off, and tapped his forehead. “It’s all in here. It’s boring, but I can help you!”

Ernesto blinked, taken aback. The notion of keeping up that charade for more than a few days seemed… slightly less insane than it had just a few minutes ago, really. He was a good actor; he had good memory. Maybe he could pull it off, and get to spend the rest of that stupid war hidden away in that small town, eating three meals a day and with very little danger of being caught and hanged. He just needed… a little help.

“You can help me,” he repeated, and raised an eyebrow. “All right. What’s the catch, niño?”

He’d half-expected the boy to play innocent, but he didn’t even bother to; instead, he smiled widely. “I need your help to stop Héctor before he becomes a priest.”

That was just about the last thing he expected to hear. “You need my help to-- what?”

Miguel rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on! He shouldn’t be a priest! He should marry Imelda, everyone knows he likes her!”

“And Imelda is…?”

“Oh, right. You haven’t met her. They call her Sister Gisela now.”

Ernesto could feel the first stab of something that threatened to turn into a huge headache. “You want me get a novice to drop his vows and marry a nun, did I hear that right?”

“She’s not a nun yet! We also have to stop that from happening, by the way.”

“I have to stop him from becoming a priest, her from becoming a nun, and get them married.”

“Yes!” Miguel exclaimed, clearly glad to see he’d caught on. “I mean, you’re the parish priest! Well, the think you are. They will listen to you,” he added, then paused, frowning in thought. “... Well, maybe Héctor is more likely to listen. But you should talk with Sister Sofía! She also thinks they should drop their vows, and Imelda listens to her. Sorta. Kinda. Maybe.”

“I’m sorta, kinda, maybe thinking I should have let the army hang me.”

Miguel made a face. “Being hanged sounds unpleasant.”

All right, so maybe that was exaggerating just a little bit. Ernesto shrugged, conceding the point. “Fine. Let me see if I understood you correctly. You are going to keep this a secret and teach me whatever crap I have to say during Mass while Padre Culo Blanco covers that for time being,” he said, jabbing an index finger against Miguel’s chest before pointing at himself with the thumb. “And in exchange, I convince a priest and a nun--”

“They aren’t yet a priest and a nun.”

“Fine. I convince two novices to drop their holy vows and know each other biblically, possibly within the sacred bond of marriage. Is that it? That’s the deal?”

Miguel seemed just slightly confused. “What does it mean, know each other biblically?”

“How old are you again, niño?”

“Nine.”

“... It means they kiss.”

“Eeeugh.”

Ernesto raised an eyebrow. “That’s rich, coming from a self-professed matchmaker,” he joked, but the smile faded quickly. “Miguel. Do you swear you won’t say a word about this?”

“I’ll be silent as a grave,” the kid promised, and as he began quickly suggesting a course of action for his - their - matchmaking project, Ernesto did his best to listen… and not to think of the terrifying moment when he’d seriously considered blowing a hole in the boy’s head.

***

“Juanita doesn’t like that gringo.”

“Juanita doesn’t like anyone.”

“I don’t like that gringo.”

“You don’t like anyone, either.”

Chicharrón scoffed, and held the rooster in his lap somewhat protectively. “I like Juanita.”

“... Right.”

“No one likes that gringo, Héctor,” Cheech muttered through the stick in his mouth, and Héctor had to admit he had a point. Most people had put on a polite expression because that’s what you do with a priest, after all… but anyone who knew them - and he would, he’d grown up in those streets - could tell.

It was hard to trust newcomers, those days; Padre Ernesto was already well-liked, despite raising a few brows with that… interesting Mass, but it didn’t mean he was fully trusted. And that man - an American - seemed suspicious from a mile away. Distrust was natural and, really, he wasn’t helping his case at all with his condescending comments on how they handled religious matters, about pagan beliefs to be eradicated, how he was on a mission on God’s behalf to set things right.

Honestly, despite the smile Héctor had pasted on his face, he couldn’t recall anyone going that out of his way to grate on everyone’s nerves since… Gustavo, maybe, back when he’d just arrived at the orphanage and mocked everyone else by insisting that he wasn’t like them, he had a mamá and she would be back to pick him up soon, just you wait, she’ll be back for me before you know it.

She had never come, and Héctor had felt sorry for him, but all of his attempts at showing friendship were thrown back in his face and thus he’d stopped trying very quickly. This, however, was a priest - someone he should at least try to get on with.

“He’s not that bad,” he muttered, tuning his guitar. To be fair, Father John hadn’t been like that the entire time. He’d told him a few really interesting things about his travels, had been really interested in the charity work the parish did and shown interest in getting involved, and he’d seemed genuinely impressed by what little English Héctor could speak - which, to be entirely honest, wasn’t as good as the man’s slightly shaky Spanish. He’d smiled warmly, corrected his pronunciation, and then even laughed a bit.

“My apologies, I forget myself,” he’d said. “I’m not here for a language lesson - but sometimes it feels good, hearing your language when you’re far from home,” he’d added, and then suddenly excused himself.

Héctor strummed the guitar, a frown creasing his brow. There had been something on the man’s face as he’d spoken those words, there one moment and gone the next: a sort of desperate longing that had made him pause. He remembered seeing that look before, on the faces of other children who talked about parents they would never see again.

Unaware of his thoughts, Cheech was scoffing. “He is that bad. Bad news.”

“Maybe we should give him a chance. Maybe he’s just… well…”

“A pompous white ass.”

“American.”

“That’s what I said.”

Héctor laughed. “Hah! Don’t let him hear you.”

“I want him to hear me.”

“And I would like to change subject,” Héctor said, rolling his eyes. Come to think of it, where was Miguel? After he’d gone off somewhere with Padre Ernesto, he hadn’t seen him aroun--

“Oh, right. Almost forgot. They’re coming to take their stuff tonight.”

The casual comment caused Héctor to wince, and his hand slipped off the guitar strings. “Cheech! Not that loud!”

“And who’s gonna hear us, dead people?” Chicharrón scoffed, but he did him the favor to lower his voice. “It’s all sorted, in the usual coffins, in the usual place. You would know, you moved them. They’ll be gone by morning and that will be it.”

“Until the next message.”

“Until the next message, yes,” Cheech muttered, and scratched Juanita’s head. “Wonder who else gets them. I doubt we’re the only ones.”

Héctor had wondered that from time to time, too, and more. “Do you ever wonder who is it, leaving us instructions?”

“Oh, of course. I thought it was old Alejandro for a while, but then he went six feet under and the notes kept coming. Same handwriting and all,” he said, and shrugged. “Maybe it’s Ceci.”

“Ceci?” Héctor repeated, raising an eyebrow. It seemed… unlikely, that their local seamstress would be the mind behind it all. Of course, you never know; something was slightly off with her, with the amount of clothes for the poor that had suddenly become ‘unmendable’ and disappeared. Ceci had always taken pride in her skill to salvage even the most worn-out rags, and Héctor suspected that some of those clothes were mendable after all, and went to other people who had use for them. Can’t fight a Revolution naked, after all.

“I saw her around here not long before I found the note in the usual place,” Cheech was saying, unaware of his thoughts. “This is not the day to collect donated clothing.”

“She was here to make changes to the robes. They’re too tight for Padre Ernesto.”

“Hmmm. Guess that explains it,” Cheech muttered, and shrugged again. “Well, I got nothing, then. I could be anyo--”

“Héctor! Are you still wasting your time with the old goat?” Gustavo’s voice rang out.

Cheech let out a grumble. “Except this cabrón.”

“... Yes. Except this cabrón,” Héctor muttered, causing the old man to chortle.

"Oh, listen to yourself, Brother Héctor. You’ll have to wash your mouth with soap now."

Héctor laughed, and stood. Gustavo was at the low wall between the path and the cemetery, a scowl on his face. "Here you are. Sofía decided to make me her errand boy and--"

"Sister Sofía, you mean."

“I can think of other ways to call her, and none of them is sister,” Gustavo scoffed. "She says dinner is ready, and that you should dine with Padre Ernesto and Padre Jua-- Father John," he corrected himself quickly, and Héctor had to hold back a chuckle. So, that nickname was catching up already. Father John wasn't going to be pleased, but then again he seemed difficult to please either way.

"You're lucky, no chorizo,” Gustavo was going on. “You should live to see another day."

The remark caused Héctor to scowl. "It was one time," he protested. Really, one time you eat too quickly, one time you get a chorizo stuck in your throat, one time you puke it right back up in front of everyone, and there is some pendejo who'll never let you forget about it.

"And very nearly your last,” Gustavo mocked him, and turned to walk away. Héctor wondered about that; usually, as the sexton, he had most meals at the parish.

“Aren’t you coming?” he called out, gaining himself a scoff and a glare over his shoulder.

“Unlike a certain someone, I have more to do then toying with guitars.”

Héctor rolled his eyes. “Self-important jerk,” he muttered, and headed back to the parish with the guitar over his shoulder.

***

Ernesto had never enjoyed killing.

He had done it anyway, of course, and several times. During a battle or an ambush, to finish off wounded enemies afterwards - those were the easiest ones, because it was kill or be killed in one case and a mercy in the other.

But then there had been the other times. The times were men would stand accused of aiding the revolutionaries, found guilty after a joke of a trial, and publicly shot; the times he was picked to be part of the firing squad and made himself go through the motions, the screams and pleas and curses of those witnessing - mothers and wives, sons and daughters and brothers and sisters - ringing in his ears for a long time afterwards.

There had been one time when they’d begun moving on, only to hear the village’s church ringing its bell in a death toll to mourn their dead; their commander had been so infuriated that he’d made them all turn around, had the bellringer dragged out, and shot him point blank in the face. Ernesto hadn’t been the only one to turn on his saddle to vomit in the dirt.

The nightmares had eased after some time, but that bitter taste in the back of his throat would return, unannounced, more often than he’d have liked. He’d tasted it after gunning down Alberto to get away, after ending the dying priest whose cloth he’d taken, and he could taste it now, too. He hadn’t shot Miguel for knowing too much, but the thought had been there and Christ, he needed something strong to wash it away. Except that he could have no such thing, because good old Padre Juan had decided that they shouldn’t have even wine.

“It is Lent, after all. We are meant to give up on such small luxuries. Our Lord certainly had none, alone in the desert as he faced the Devil.”

No, Ernesto had no taste for killing… but the more that gringo talked, the more he felt that could be an exception. Thankfully, Brother Héctor had taken one for the team by engaging with that ass first; it seemed to have backfired, because now he just wouldn’t stop spewing out theological crap and suggesting he could give him English lessons. It was easy to tell Héctor was regretting his decision to start small talk, but Ernesto had absolutely no desire to intervene. The less he had to talk with John Proper Catholicism Johnson, the better.

Really, at that point Héctor just kept nodding with a rather faraway look in his eyes. Was he thinking about this Imelda to keep himself sane? Ernesto sure hoped so, as he hoped he would find the note he had slipped under his door. Miguel had said he’d make sure the other one would find its way in Imelda’s own room. Not precisely the brightest or most original of plans, getting them alone in the same place at night, but they had to start somewhere.

If those two liked each other as Miguel claimed they did, it might just work.

“... As a matter of fact, I never found any of you to be intellectually lacking compared to the white man, save a few exceptions,” the gringo was saying, so very magnanimously. “I do disagree with that school of thought. One cannot help the circumstances of one’s birth, but it is our duty to seek to elevate ourselves and help those less fortunate--”

Ernesto forced himself to let go of the fork. Anything could be turned into a weapon and he was Not Supposed to kill any more priests that week. Or ever, possibly. And well, it looked like he wasn’t the only one who was getting seriously fed up. A few steps away, Sister Sofía - or Sister Sophie, according to the gringo - was holding a frying pan in her hand, eyes shifting from it to Father John and then back again.

Ernesto smiled a bit, and that was when her gaze paused on him. She raised both eyebrows.

You can absolve me later, she mouthed, and Ernesto bit the inside of his cheek not to laugh.

“... What do you think, Father Ernest?” Father John’s grating voice caused him to recoil and look back to him… and at Héctor, who looked like he’d had his soul sucked out of his body.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’d like to join Padre Hector and me in the chapel for the evening prayer. Certainly that is not a good habit you have shed along with your Latin, is it?”

Ernesto’s eyes flickered behind him. Sister Sofía raised the frying pan, tilting her head in a mute question. It was funny enough to help him not lose his temper, and he managed to smile as though he meant it. “I would love to, but I prefer to say the evening prayer on my own,” he said. “After some private reflection.”

To his relief, he didn’t insist further; he just wished him and Sister Sophie a good night, and left along with a rather resigned-looking Héctor. Ernesto sighed and leaned back on the chair as soon as the door closed behind them. “God give me patience.”

“I’ve got something better,” Sister Sofía said, and within moments there was a bottle of mass wine on the table, plus a second glass. Ernesto raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged. “What Padre Juan doesn’t know cannot hurt him. As much as I would like to do that at times,” she quipped, pouring wine in his glass, and Ernesto barked out a laugh, taking it.

“Telling me you’d like to harm another member of the clergy, Sister?”

“You can absolve me later,” she smiled, and picked up her own glass. “He’s probably going to be a complete killjoy at Mass. A shame, that,” she added, and smiled, putting a hand on his arm. “I liked your take on it.”

Ernesto thought back of the moment when he’d thought he had seen her licking her lips while staring at him and wondered, suddenly, if that hadn’t been just his imagination after all.

“... I think I noticed,” he found himself saying, and her laughter as she lifted the glass - the glint in her eyes as she glanced at him as though he were a tasty morsel - confirmed his suspicion. He found he liked that thought; there was something flattering about it. She wasn’t that much to look at, short and thin as a twig in robes that were hardly meant to be flattering, but he hadn’t been with a woman for so, so long.

You have a cover to keep, no point in risking it. This is not the hill you want to die on, idiota.

But then again, a nun? She had all the more reasons to keep whatever may happen a secret, he thought as she brought the glass to her lips with a smile. Ernesto did the same and finally, as he gulped it down, the taste of bile in the back of his throat began to fade.

***

His old Bible was where John had left it, on the small table at his bedside.

Most of his few belongings had yet to be unpacked - he’d simply left them in the small room he’d been offered before Brother Hector had begun showing him around - and he would do that early the next morning. Now he was so tired, he wished for nothing but sleep. But not just yet; with his evening prayers uttered, there was one thing yet to do before he could rest.

First thing in the morning and last thing in the evening, so that you never forget.

There was a folded, worn-out letter marking the page he was looking for. He held it in one hand, careful not to crease it, and his eyes rested on the one passage he’d underlined, circled, and read so many times. And he read it again now, so he could never forget.

Then, he unfolded the letter. It wasn’t a much longer read than the passage; a few sentences that were like a slammed door. John read each word, folded the sheet of paper again, placed it back on the Bible, and closed it. He kissed its cover, put it down on the table and then - only then - did he reach up to wipe his eyes with the heel of his hand.

It hurt. Twelve years, and it still hurt. Every morning and evening, until he could redeem himself; until he saved enough souls to be deserving of a second chance for his own.

So that you never forget.

***

Getting in the basement of the orphanage was… oddly easy.

It would have been easy either way, truth be told: Héctor had access to the keys of the small door that let to it from outside, and he had taken them before leaving the parish, but as it turned out it wasn’t needed. After going down the stone steps below the road level, he’d found the door was already open. That was… odd, but no odder than the note he had found in his room when he’d returned after the evening prayer with Father John.

Come at the orphanage’s basement at midnight. It is important. Tell no one.

It was written in uppercase, and he did not recognize the handwriting. He wondered if it may be from the same person who left Cheech the instructions about the weapons and supplies, but he had never seen what the writing in those looked like, so he wasn’t sure.

He’d show Cheech the note and ask the next day; now he had to focus on… whatever that was about.

Why me, though? Cheech is their man. I only helped him.

A good question, and with nothing anywhere close to an answer. That unnerved him more than the near-complete darkness in the basement; the candle he’d lit gave some light, but the deep shadows it cast only made the place more ominous. But he had been there before as a child, sometimes as punishment and sometimes just to get some time by himself, and he could walk through it with his eyes shut.

What unnerved him the most was the silence. There was no one aside for himself; all he could see was the heap of old furniture, wood to burn in winter, broken things and… what was that, in the back? Héctor moved towards the back of the room where, besides a few shelves with canned food, he could see what looked like a few crates covered with tarp.

Unlike all the rest, that wasn’t covered in dust; it looked out of place, and he wondered--

“Who’s there?”

“Eeek!” The less than dignified shriek left him just as he dropped the candle, which extinguished itself before it even touched the ground. Still, he was not left in darkness: when he turned he found himself facing someone else who was, too, holding a candle. “... Imelda?”

“Héctor?”

For a moment, they just stared at each other. She looked surprised, and beautiful in the flickering light of the candle, in that moment of stillness and silence as the world slept and it felt as though there was only the two of them awake. In an empty basement. Alone.

Bad, bad, bad. This is bad.

“I mean--” Héctor cleared his throat. “Sister Gisela,” he said, and she seemed relieved.

“Brother Héctor,” she greeted him back, and stood there as Héctor quickly went to pick up the candle. She held out her own to let him light it up again, and then took a couple of steps back. She was fully dressed in her robe and headdress, and he was wearing his cassock, but somehow the entire situation felt extraordinarily inappropriate. “What are you doing here? This time of the night?” she asked, her voice cautious.

Not knowing how much he could or should tell her, Héctor could have asked the same - but before he could utter a single word there was light, stronger than that cast by their candles, and a man’s voice rang out. “Well, this is more crowded than I was expecting.”

They both winced and turned to see that they were no longer alone. A few steps from them there were a few men, all of them armed. The closest one, carrying an oil lamp, chuckled.

“Well, look at that,” he said, and smiled with a mouth full of crooked teeth before gesturing for the men to lower their guns. “It’s you. Nice to finally meet you in person, amigos,” he added, and Héctor knew he wasn’t going to die that night.

Well, that was turning out to be a really odd night.

***

Imelda had known something was off the moment she had found the note in her room, clearly slipped in beneath the door, telling her to go down in the basement at midnight and tell no one. She’d figured right away it had to have something to do with the weapons she was keeping there, of course - what else could it be about? - but it was also very, very odd.

Her presence had never been required or requested when it was time for the revolutionaries to come and collect them and, most of all, the note itself was different: the handwriting was different, or at least so it seemed to her. It was hard to tell, since this one was in uppercase and none of the others had been.

It unnerved her, and she wished she could tell Sofía about it, but it was not an option that evening: she was away, taking care of the parish and, if she got her way, of the priest as well. Granted, now that a gringo had gotten there, Padre Ernesto was no longer the one Imelda was most interested in knowing about. While an outsider, and clearly not a very conventional priest, at least Padre Ernesto wasn’t a foreigner. An American’s presence there of all places made little sense, and Imelda didn’t like that. Something was up with that man, she could tell.

Maybe, she’d thought, that was the reason why someone wanted to speak to her, and she’d gone down in the basement at midnight, walking through empty and silent halls, not quite knowing what she would find.

Admittedly, Héctor - Brother Héctor - was not among the various options she’d imagined.

"Well, this is awkward, huh? You guys weren't really meant to meet. Safer for everyone if each of you knows as little as possible," the man with the oil lamp - José, he’d called himself, but Imelda suspected that was not his real name - said with another smile as his companions quickly took the weapons and loaded on a small cart they had left outside.

“You…?” both Imelda and Héctor exclaimed, looking at each other and then falling silent.

Imelda was at a loss for words. All of those notes, all along, it had been Héctor of all people? Unaware of the fact Héctor was thinking exactly the same thing - all of those nose, all along, it had been Imelda? - she turned away, Sofía’s words echoing in the back of her mind.

Oh, I think he’s a better actor than you give him credit for.

“Still, what’s done is done. Thanks for the help,” José was adding, thankfully unaware of her thoughts. “The army is still stretched pretty thin, but some of them are getting closer. We’ll send most of these to our friends up north, but will keep a few as well. Just in case.”

That caused Héctor to stop staring at her with his mouth agape and frown. “Do you think they’ll get to Santa Cecilia? Again?” he asked. The mere thought was enough to make Imelda feel cold; last time the army had been there they had taken men, and they had been able to hide away the boys. Next time, they may not be so lucky; orphans were very convenient in war. No one would fight to keep them… or so the Federales seemed to think.

“Maybe we should keep a few rifles,” Imelda spoke up, causing Héctor to wince and José to raise an eyebrow. “In case they come for the children.”

The man barked out a laugh. “Hah! I like the way you think, Sister, but not to worry. If you’re ever in trouble, we will know. And we will fight,” he promised, then he tilted his head. “So. What is this I heard about a gringo in town… ?”

As Héctor filled him in with what he knew about Father John - which was not much, truth be told, but he seemed to think he was relatively inoffensive, if annoying - and promised to keep an eye on him, Imelda found herself staring at him more intensely than she had in years. In the sharp light of the oil lamp he looked, for the first time, more like a man - a world away from the boy she thought she’d known.

Something was going on, something much bigger than either of them, and they were in it together.

***

[Back to Part 3]

[On to Part 5]

#pixar coco #miguel rivera #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #coco #fake priest au

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habibialkaysani · 5 years

Text

The Devil in Star City (Laurel/Nyssa; E) - Part II

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa

Summary: “My name is Laurel Lance. When I was eight years old I was in a car accident that left me without sight. But in the process, my other senses were heightened.

By day, I am a defence attorney, ready to fight for justice in the courtroom on behalf of those who the law has failed. By night, I am someone else. I am something else.

I am Daredevil.”

Part I

A/N: Thanks once again to @sophiainspace for betaing! This one is not for kiddos so please heed the rating.

Read at AO3

“Hang on, so let me get this straight -”

Instantly Laurel burst out laughing. “Honey, I thought we already established that I'm about as straight as a rainbow slinky.” She paused for a second, feeling a solitary drop of rain fall on her hair. The cold that had settled this winter had been dry but not as unforgiving, and it was only now that Laurel was really starting to shiver as the winds began to whip around them to accompany the inevitable downpour. Still, there was something about the butterflies she felt in her stomach - the beautiful kind - that kept her warm, and for that Laurel was grateful.

“Okay, poor choice of words, given the same applies for me,” Nyssa said.

“Quelle surprise,” Laurel replied teasingly. “I never would have guessed.”

They were walking arm in arm but now Nyssa was slowing a little, and Laurel slowed down too. “Do you mind the rain? We could always get a cab.”

“No, it’s fine,” Laurel said. “I'm okay if you are. Just tell me if you see a puddle.”

They resumed their stride together. “So, back to what I was saying - how can you possibly have never had a black and white milkshake before now?”

“Most people just give me water when I say I don't want booze.” Laurel paused, though, and then added, “Actually, that’s not true. There are days when I want a drink no matter how much I know it will fuck me up.”

“I bet you’re glad the only bar I’m familiar with is of the milkshake variety, then.”

“You haven’t asked me why.”

And Laurel could have elaborated, here, asked what she was asking more clearly, but there was this moment of understanding that passed between them, as Nyssa gently squeezed Laurel’s arm, that meant she didn’t have to.

“I suppose it’s not really my business,” Nyssa answered eventually. “And like a lot of things… if you wanted to tell me, you’d do so in your own time.”

Again, Nyssa's unsaid words hung in the damp air between them, Laurel not needing to hear them when she could feel them, in the sudden absence of spring in Nyssa's step.

“I appreciate that.”

She realised now that they were slowing again, and that they were nearing what must have been Nyssa's apartment.

“This is me,” Nyssa said, and for the first time Laurel could detect something that felt almost like nervousness in her tone. They'd been out every night since New Year's Eve, and yet surprisingly for Laurel, while there was no denying things had gotten intense, so far it had all been above clothing. Not that she’d minded, really - there was something glorious about the slow burn of fire between them, the way that their time apart whittled it down to mere embers and then when they were together again it burned brighter each time. But something - maybe primal instinct, or perhaps the fact that she was in a setting as cliched as to be standing in the pouring rain with a beautiful girl - told her that things were different tonight.

“Yeah.” Laurel could tell her clothes were getting more and more drenched by the second, but she didn't mind, not really, not when she was letting her hand trail down Nyssa's sleeve. Instinctively Nyssa shivered.

“Are you waiting for something?” she asked after a few seconds.

Laurel didn't answer. “I had a great time tonight. Just like I did the last few nights. And it’s been really fun getting to know you.”

At first, perhaps rather uncharacteristic of her, Nyssa made a few non-committal noises, as if she was confused. “So... you're waiting for me to say goodnight?”

Leaning up, tilting her head back, Laurel kissed Nyssa in answer, tasting rain and something sweet.

“Gods, you're soaked,” Nyssa breathed, her hand going to the small of Laurel's back. “We should go inside. Get out of these wet clothes.”

“I thought you'd never ask.” And Laurel knew at Nyssa's tiny laugh at that that she really was nervous, for reasons Laurel didn't properly understand, so Laurel then added, “I can go. If you want. And I'm sorry if I went too far just there.”

Nyssa caught her wrist, though. “No, you didn't.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Nyssa said firmly. “I want you to stay. With me.”

“So I'll stay.” Laurel reached up, brushing away a rivulet of rain from Nyssa's nose.

“Laurel, the thing is, I haven't -” Nyssa broke off, and it was then that Laurel got it, just as Nyssa finished, “I haven't done this before. With… anyone.”

“It's okay,” Laurel said before kissing her. “I can lead this time. If you want.”

“Yes,” Nyssa breathed. “I do.”

***

“Give us this day our daily bread,” Laurel said under her breath, “and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from -”

“Laurel?” Immediately Laurel's heart sank - she had thought she was being so quiet that the angel on her shoulder could barely hear her, let alone the woman sleeping in the bed behind her, but clearly she was wrong. A rustle of bedsheets - then the light tap of Nyssa's palm on the pillow as she searched for Laurel on the bed. “Where -?”

“It’s okay. I’m right here,” Laurel said, turning head slightly. “You didn't think I ghosted you, did you?”

“Not at all,” Nyssa replied - and she spoke far too quickly for Laurel to believe her.

It was strange - they'd known each other all of five days, and it felt like she had talked more with Nyssa in those days than she had with anyone in five years.

Laurel was standing at the window, and even though it was closed she could hear the occasional whoosh of cars in the street below. Still - she appreciated the silence, for the short moments it lasted, crisp and refreshing compared to the usual noise and chaos surrounding her.

“How long have you been up?” Nyssa asked through a yawn.

“Not that long. What time is it?”

“Four a.m.”

“Sorry,” Laurel said softly, pulling the robe she had found on one of the door hooks closer around her, then taking a few tentative steps towards the bed. “For waking you, I mean. I was just…”

“... praying?” Laurel nodded apologetically but before she could say anything Nyssa was taking one of Laurel's hands into her own. “Did I interrupt you?” Nyssa asked.

Laurel smiled. “No, you didn't. I’m all done now.” She couldn't help but kiss Nyssa now, just briefly, enough for Laurel to be able to taste the smile on Nyssa's lips as she settled back into bed. “And even if I wasn't - I figure the man upstairs would understand.”

It was obvious Nyssa was trying not to scoff. “Really?”

“Really,” Laurel said with more conviction than she actually felt.

“About what I told you before…” Nyssa began, but she hesitated for a second. Reaching out, Laurel touched Nyssa's bare shoulder, hand meeting cool skin. For the briefest of seconds Nyssa seemed to tense at her touch, but then she relaxed. Laurel used her thumb to trace a gentle circle on Nyssa's bicep, and it was gratifying hearing Nyssa's soft moan of appreciation at that.

“I told you before,” Laurel said firmly. “It doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“I've never told anyone else before,” Nyssa admitted. “Everyone just assumes - well, I suppose I do give off a femme fatale vibe on occasion.”

And now Laurel laughed. “Maybe just a little bit. On occasion.”

Nyssa chuckled too. “Sort of ironic, don't you think?”

“What is?”

“You're Catholic, devout -”

“That's debatable,” Laurel interrupted.

“You’re devout enough to get up in the middle of the night for prayer,” Nyssa countered. “You believe in the existence of a being that's never been seen or heard by anyone.”

“Also debatable.”

“You're a lawyer - I wouldn't expect you to say anything less.”

“Law student,” Laurel corrected. “I haven't even graduated yet, much less passed the LSAT or Bar…”

“I suppose the students at Cambridge are just pompous like that, then. Or they just liked to glorify themselves prematurely.”

“You were at Cambridge?”

“Yes, until I asked to be transferred. And I'm glad to be here, now.”

“You mean at Columbia University?” Laurel asked slowly.

Nyssa leaned her forehead against Laurel's. “No. I meant… with you.” And Laurel wished she knew what she could say to that, to this woman uttering sweet nothings to her who perhaps wasn't realising how hard Laurel had fallen for her. Lost for words, Laurel placed a gentle kiss on Nyssa’s lips, then her cheek, then a spot down the side of her neck, gratified when Nyssa sighed contentedly. “Anyway,” Nyssa continued, raking her fingers through Laurel's hair, “me, I wouldn't pray even if I was in a burning building.”

“Trust me, my faith is up and down most of the time.”

“True, but my point still stands.”

“Which is what?”

“Of the two of us - you're the one people would expect to be a virgin, not me.”

Laurel just shrugged, though. “Virginity is just a social construct anyway.” Nyssa huffed a sigh and Laurel added, “Okay. I get what you mean. But I - I don't care if you've slept with a hundred people or no people. I think if I did… that would make me a pretty shitty person. Not to mention - if you think me being Catholic meant I didn't want to jump your bones the moment I met you, you are sorely mistaken, sweetheart.”

“But I thought in Catholicism -”

“Pretty much every Catholic I know is chockfull of repressed sexual energy. It’s just the natural order.”

“Wow. I suppose you learn new things every day.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why don't you… believe?”

At first Nyssa didn’t answer, just shifted slightly on the bed so she was more comfortable. “Do you think less of me because of it?”

Laurel didn’t hesitate in her reply. “Nyssa, there is not a force in the universe that could make me think less of you. I just - know a lot of people who feel the way they feel about religion because of something, something that's happened to them.”

For a moment Nyssa considered this. “I don't think anything happened, really. I mean - I've been very fortunate, was taken in by a prosperous family at a young age and have only ever really known luxury. But I don't think some higher power caused that or put it in motion.”

“That's fair,” Laurel said.

“And I think I've seen enough of the world to know that good things happen to bad people all the time, and vice versa.”

“So what?”

“So - I can't possibly believe that that kind of injustice is God's will.”

“Yeah, I struggle with that myself a lot of the time,” Laurel admitted. “Not to mention - I'm not gonna pretend organised religion has ever really been on my side. Or on yours. It's a hell of a lot to try and reconcile.”

Then Laurel had to hide her sharp intake of breath, as she felt the brush of Nyssa's knuckles against the hollow of her throat, until her fingers found the crucifix hanging around her neck.

“How do you reconcile it all?”

Instinctively, Laurel wrapped her hand around Nyssa's wrist, smiled ruefully. “I'll let you know if I ever figure out an answer to that. In the meantime…”

“...in the meantime you're still going to pray?”

“Do you think that's silly?” Laurel said, and her words came out a mere whisper.

“No,” Nyssa answered without skipping a beat. She released the cross from between her fingers, moved her hand so her palm was resting on Laurel's chest, right above her heartbeat. “No,” Nyssa repeatedly solemnly. “I think that's beautiful. Actually - I envy that level of faith. It’s something I admire about you. I wish I had that.”

“I mean - that's nice of you to say. But it's more that… I need something to hold on to.”

“And that something is your belief?”

Laurel shook her head. “I can't hold on to something that I don't know exists half the time, that fluctuates so much that there are days when I don't think it's there at all. No. I'm holding on to what's... familiar, I guess. And saying the words I know so well they may as well be carved into my heart - that's familiar. So is going to confession and mass, even if I don’t go often enough. It's all I know. That's always been my anchor. Until…”

There was silence and it was clear Nyssa was expectant, waiting for Laurel to continue. And Laurel wanted to, but something inside her made her falter - maybe the knowledge that she could not remember ever baring her soul to someone like this before, let alone someone she had spent only days with. Or that she felt so naked in that moment that it made her shiver involuntarily, gooseflesh erupting on her spine despite Laurel being clothed and Nyssa being the one with bare shoulders and the bedsheet wrapped around her middle

She was surprised when Nyssa seemed to accept her silence, lips meeting Laurel's in the kind of gentle kiss that was so uncharacteristic of someone so headstrong.

“You're going to tell me, right?” Nyssa said against her mouth. Then she ducked her head, kissed a spot on Laurel's neck, tongue darting out to lick the column of her throat.

“Tell me what?” Laurel asked breathlessly.

“If I do something wrong?”

And then Laurel understood, remembering before, when she'd been on her knees, the taste of Nyssa hot and honeyed on her tongue, when Laurel had assured Nyssa to take her time. That one of the reasons pleasure was such a beautiful thing was because it was something you could give, or take, or if she was lucky, both. That they should go slowly. She'd insisted on it, actually. “Hey, you don't have to -”

But before Laurel could finish her sentence Nyssa silenced her with a kiss, so hard that it left Laurel gasping. “I know. But I want to. The question is - do you want me to?”

Even as she was panting for air Laurel managed a laugh. “You really have to ask me that?”

“Of course. And you didn't answer my other question.”

Laurel took Nyssa's hand, placed it on her thigh. Despite her words, though, Laurel knew Nyssa's uncertainty lingered, in the measured carefulness of her breathing.

“My answer is yes, obviously.” And as she leaned in to kiss her Nyssa's hand automatically relaxed, enough for Laurel to cover Nyssa's hand with her own. “And to answer your question - yes. I will tell you. In the impossible event that you do something wrong.”

Encouraged by this, Nyssa dragged her palm up the inside of Laurel's thigh, and Laurel sighed contentedly when the tip of Nyssa's finger edged tentatively upwards, until it met the damp cotton of her panties. Laurel had always been sensitive, but now, with Nyssa barely even touching her, and with a barrier still separating them - Laurel tensed, so when Nyssa slid two fingers inside her panties Laurel couldn't help but cry out.

“Was that -”

“Nyssa,” Laurel interrupted, “I said I would tell you. Please don't stop. Unless you want to?”

She didn't expect Nyssa to answer her with a kiss, nor for her to push at Laurel's shoulders. Nyssa was waiting, holding her breath, until Laurel was lying right back, the tie of her robe coming loose. Her panties came off next, Laurel tugging them off her waist, wriggling her hips so they came down her legs, and Nyssa untangling them when they fell to her ankles. At the same time she could feel the familiar clenching feeling of intense heat deep between her legs, so when Nyssa dropped a kiss - light as a feather - on a spot just above Laurel's belly button, it was hard for Laurel to contain her moan.

“Nyssa,” Laurel said breathlessly when minutes later she felt Nyssa's mouth somewhere on the inside of her thigh, “you're killing me here.”

Nyssa laughed. “You have a point. Perhaps it is rude to keep a girl waiting.”

“Sweetie, there's no ‘perhaps’ about that.”

Then, slowly, oh so slowly, Laurel could feel the nudge of Nyssa's nose against her opening, then her tongue, as she got a taste of Laurel for the first time. Laurel tried to control her breathing, slow it somewhat, but really she was surrendering to Nyssa's every touch, as without warning Nyssa's fingers were where her tongue had been making Laurel moan needingly. And once Nyssa found her bearings with her hand, her forefinger inching inside her, pad of her finger finding Laurel's now swollen clit, Nyssa let out a little oh of surprise. Laurel wanted to say something, maybe tell her again that Nyssa shouldn't feel obliged to do anything, but the only sound that spilled from her lips was a soft groan. Reaching out, Laurel found Nyssa's free hand instead, and their fingers twined together automatically as Laurel rocked her hips against her lover's mouth.

By the time Laurel came - grip tightening on Nyssa's hand until she was sure not even God could have pried apart their fingers if He tried - she could feel the sweat dripping down her forehead and feel the slow curve of Nyssa's smile mouthed into the still-damp skin of her thigh.

“Holy mother of -”

“Now, I would have thought that was blasphemous,” Nyssa teased. “At least in your book.” Laurel chuckled, turning on her side on the bed. Now, as the cloudy haze of pleasure from her orgasm was clearing, Laurel inhaled slowly, taking in the musky scent coming from between Nyssa's legs as she shifted closer to Laurel on the bed. “That was good, wasn’t it?”

Laurel couldn’t help but laugh, running her fingers through Nyssa’s hair. “Wow. Talk about selling yourself short.” Nyssa just buried her face into Laurel’s neck, though, not answering. “I have to say, this side of you is… weirdly endearing.”

“What do you mean, ‘this side of me’?”

“I mean… seeing you being unsure about something. Before tonight, I didn’t think it was possible for Nyssa Raatko to be vulnerable.”

Silence fell. “I suppose I am full of surprises,” Nyssa said eventually. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What do you see? Like, really see? Because I remember what you said the night we met. About how - people think ‘blind’ is somehow synonymous with ‘ignorant’ or even ‘stupid’. And perhaps I was guilty of thinking the same, once, but I know better now.”

Laurel thought back to when she first interviewed for Columbia, an ordeal made all the more excruciating because of how much the professors seemed to be treading on eggshells around her, or when early in her freshman year there were several students muttering about how the only reason the blind girl was there was because the dean felt sorry for her. (They’d said it quietly, when they thought that Laurel was out of earshot, but of course Laurel had the great fortune of hearing their vitriol anyway.)

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” Laurel said slowly. “You asked what I see. I see… the minute details. But I also see a world that’s on fire. I see all the things that are wrong and I don’t have the means to stop any of it.”

“That sounds like hell,” Nyssa said softly.

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” Laurel said, more to herself than to Nyssa.

“Why did you tell me?”

This time Laurel did manage a smile, her arm snaking around Nyssa’s bare waist. “I don’t know. But I do know that I’ve never met anyone who gets me. Not like you.”

They settled again into quiet, and Laurel wasn’t sure how long they spent like that, limbs tangled together, Laurel listening to the steady sounds of Nyssa’s breathing as Nyssa stroked her hair. And that night, the night when Laurel slept better than she had in years, it didn’t matter that the world in her dreams was still on fire - because Nyssa was by her side the whole time.

Tagging: @therewas-a-girl @themessytwentysomething @stungunmilly2 @blackcanary567 @missslightwood @lexnacker @homosexual-hairflip @snarkysnartes @heartless241 @pinkletterday @ineverhadadoubt

#laurel lance #nyssa al ghul #laurel x nyssa #lauryssa #daredevil au #arrow #otp: dinner's on me #mine #my fic #lemon #i am copying my friend's lead and going back to this term #fic: the devil in star city

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im-all-in-shiro · 6 years

Note

Yay! You're doing prompts again! Would you be willing to do Sheith + “Can I hold your hand?” Post season 6, if you've seen it that is. Please and thank you.

So uhh I’d like to apologise big time for keeping this in my inbox so long. As kind of an apology I made a longer fic. I’m so sorry and I hope you enjoy it.

They’d stopped at a planet with many vendors and shops—something the other paladins from Earth felt were akin to a strip mall. The shops stretched farther than the paladins could see, giving a slightly intimidating look. It didn’t help that the aliens both buying and selling wares were tall lizard looking people, taller and more muscular than even Shiro. In short, none were particularly interested in going out to the shops.

Coran had explained that the shops held necessary supplies before heading back in one of the lions to help heal Romelle after their last fight. The girl, strong as she was, wasn’t trained in fighting or had a proper weapon on her when she got caught in the crossfire. Her leg was badly injured and she needed to rest it. Coran very regretfully said he had to go, wanting very much to help the Paladins in their quest to go through many stores to find the proper supplies.

“Keith? Shiro?” Allura asked with a very strained smile. “I think you two should get the supplies while the rest of us wait here for a team meeting.”

It was an odd request. It would be much easier to get all the supplies with Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Allura, and Krolia, but Allura seemed that she wasn’t willing to change her mind on the decision.

Keith gave her a strange look. “Just the two of us? Are you sure?”

“Uh, I don’t mean to question your decisions, Allura,” Shiro began awkwardly. “But wouldn’t a team meeting work best with the whole team? Especially the leader of Voltron?”

Allura gave that same strained smile she’d given a moment ago. “All it’s about is the most recent exercise we did. Keith did wonderfully so I felt the others and I should discuss our difficulties. Krolia should remain as well as it was her exercise.”

She was lying. It wasn’t like her, but she felt it was necessary. What she wanted to talk about she felt had the utmost importance.

Keith and Shiro looked at each other a moment before Keith shrugged. “Sure. We’ll do it.” He looked at Kosmo and petted the space wolf’s head. “Come on. You can help us.”

The others watched as the three walked toward the line of shops, Shiro and Keith already smiling and talking to each other.

It was strange for the other Paladins when they noticed that Allura watched the three walk away with close precision. It was only when they were out of earshot when she turned to the rest of the team. Her demeanour was dark and intimidating, nothing like the fun atmosphere of the shops. Keith and Shiro apparently hadn’t noticed as they continued to walk toward the shops while in close proximity to one another. After the confusion, they’d been excited, and their excitement had rubbed off on Lance, Hunk, and Pidge (despite the disappointment they all felt at being left out). Even Krolia had an upward quirk of her lips at Keith and Shiro’s antics.

Allura had something else in mind.

“I’m not sure if it’s the best idea to have Shiro and Keith in the same lion anymore…” Allura said worriedly, trailing off.

The other Paladins were feeling a mixture of shock and confusion. Keith and Shiro had been practically attached at the hip once Shiro was finally safe in both body and mind. Separating them was an odd choice, especially when the two seemed so happy. With Shiro being stuck in the lion’s consciousness for so long, and Keith being away for two years, the two had much to catch up on and it appeared they were all too willing to do so.

Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “Why not? They’ve been happy now that they got the other back. Well, as happy as you can be after being stuck in Black for months while your clone took over your life.”

“I’m also pretty sure you’ll have to fight Keith if you want to take away Shiro after he just got him back,” Hunk added with a nod.

Allura frowned. “I don’t want to fight, I just think it would be more appropriate if Shiro were to ride in Pidge’s lion from now on.”

Krolia gave Allura a sharp look. “What exactly are you suggesting about my son? Why is he not appropriate enough for your tastes?”

The look Krolia gave Allura was nothing short of terrifying. It was a look only a Galra mother could possibly be able to do.

Allura shook her head immediately. “It’s not Keith. Well, it is but… please just let me explain.”

Krolia continued to look cold, but nodded anyway.

“I overheard them talking when we were settled on Allevian,” Allura began solemnly. “I was there just to check to see if Shiro was doing well when I heard Keith ask him ‘can I hold your hand.’ I think they may be in a secret relationship.”

Pidge shook her head. “That could be seen as platonic. How does ‘can I hold your hand’ equal—”

“They were laying in Shiro’s bed together,” Allura interrupted knowingly.

Everybody paused. It was unexpected to say the least. It was obvious to anybody Shiro and Keith were close, however, it became more apparent over time to the Paladins that the two had a line in their relationship both were too scared to cross. Even Krolia knew well enough about the relationship that ran deep between her son and Shiro.

Hunk was the first to break the silence with laughter. “Pidge, I told you! When we get back to Earth you have to pay up!”

While Pidge grumbled out a response Allura sent a withering look to the two of the playful Paladins. “This is a serious matter,” she insisted. “If the two are in a sexual relationship this could—”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Lance interrupted. “What’s wrong if they were having sex together? Also, they’re totally not because both of them are dumbasses when it comes to romance—especially Keith.”

Krolia’s eyebrows pinched together, thankfully not noticing Lance’s jab at her son for Lance’s sake. “I would know if my son and Shiro were engaging in sexual acts in the Black Lion. Even if they were, I don’t understand the problem here.”

Hunk gave Allura and Krolia strange looks. “Uh, I don’t know about Galra or Alteans, but on Earth hand holding is a really innocent way of showing affection. Hand holding doesn’t equal ‘sexual acts’ at all, even if they were in Shiro’s bed together. Maybe it was just a slumber party?”

Allura crossed her arms over her chest. “A relationship is easily what it will devolve into.”

“You’re seriously sounding like my Catholic grandmother,” Lance groaned. “Just let Shiro hold hands with Keith. He deserves it.”

“Keith is the Black Paladin and leader of Voltron,” Allura stated solemnly. “While I’d like to be happy for him and Shiro, this is a war. Romantic relationships will only be a hindrance to the team.”

“You can’t be that heartless, Allura,” Hunk insisted. “If they want to be happy, you should let them.”

“What if there’s a battle and Keith favours Shiro’s safety above all else?” Allura questioned cooly. “I’d love to see Shiro and Keith happy, but as leader of Voltron Keith must think of what’s best for the team, not his own personal relationships.”

Pidge raised an eyebrow. “Your logic is flawed. So what if Shiro goes into a different lion? Wouldn’t Keith just protect that lion? Isn’t that just as bad in your mind, strategically?”

“The point of moving Shiro into a different lion is more than that,” Allura argued. “A physical barrier allowing the two to be separated for a period of time could genuinely stop their relationship from devolving any further than it already is. I saw what happened when we allowed the two to be in close quarters. This will hopefully just stop Keith from doing anything too drastic.”

“My son would never do anything for his own personal gain,” Krolia stated, her voice cold as ice. “He’s nothing but a strong leader who’s level-headed and can make the necessary and right choices in battle.”

Lance snorted. “Have you met Keith? When it comes to Shiro, he throws anything logical out of the way when it comes to protecting him. Maybe moving Shiro would help? Just a little bit?”

Allura nodded at Lance. “Thank you, Lance.”

Krolia gave the two a steely look, her lips pressed in a fine line. She was upset. Nobody could really blame her, it was her son they were discussing, but Allura was headstrong and would push whatever she feels is right. She’d never give up, even if that meant harming her and Krolia’s ties with each other.

“What about your parents? Wasn’t your dad a paladin?” Pidge pointed out quickly, trying to swerve the conversation from the dark path of where it was headed. “They were in a relationship, so why can’t we?”

Allura hesitated. “We listen to Keith as our leader. It would be bad to have us be commanded by one so ruled by their mind and body.”

Krolia regarded Allura coldly. “So you’re saying that only my son can’t have a mate? The rest of you are free to do what you choose, but Keith can’t mate with the one he loves?”

Pidge winced and Hunk hid behind her. Lance looked between the two women with genuine fear in his eyes. This conversation wasn’t going to end pleasantly if Allura or Krolia had anything to say about it.

Allura sighed. “In all honesty, before now I’d hoped Shiro and Keith would find solace in each other. Seeing them like that, however, made me realise that Keith would truly hold Shiro’s safety above others’, and it could be Voltron’s downfall. What if an enemy decided to use Shiro against Keith? Keith would do anything to stop it, meaning this could endanger the whole team.”

There was a pause. “You’re thinking about Keith’s fight with the clone, aren’t you?” Lance asked softly.

Allura pursed her lips but didn’t say anything, giving the others the answer they needed.

Lance realised that there was more to it than that. Allura had been hurt by Lotor and it was affecting her decision making. She was strong, but without the chance to truly grieve she’d done little things to make Lance believe she was affected more than she’d let on. This decision was the cherry on top that made even the others suspect that there was much more to Allura’s decision to separate Shiro and Keith than she’d ever be willing to tell. There was the clone aspect absolutely, but it was Lotor who darkened her views of trust and romantic connections.

“I disagree,” Krolia argued. “I believe Keith can make his own choices and still be a good leader. If he wants to mate with Shiro, I say we let it go its course.”

Hunk groaned. “Yeah, okay. I get that Galra are different from humans, but can we please not discuss Shiro and Keith ‘mating?’ Really don’t want to picture my friends going at it like that.”

Allura rounded on him. “Hunk, this is serious.”

Pidge held up her hands. “Allura, calm down. We get that you’re upset, but Hunk and I really don’t think all this is worth it. As I said before, it really doesn’t make that much sense either. Why wouldn’t Shiro and Keith decide to—ugh—mate when we’re stopped on a planet or something?”

Allura pursed her lips. “Pidge, please. This is for the best. Some separation at least part of the time will help the entire team.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes. “Hunk and I don’t care at all, and Keith most definitely isn’t going to agree to this. How is that really best for the team?”

Krolia nodded in agreement. Lance was silent.

Lance didn’t know what to do. Allura always had good points for the team, but this time he was worried his support might be in the wrong place.

“All of you must understand that this will affect the team,” Allura said coldly. “Shiro and Keith’s romantic and sexual relationship will distract Keith from what he needs to be paying attention to the most. Weren’t you two the ones who predicted their relationship to be true? Why wouldn’t you agree with me about this?”

Pidge opened her mouth yet again to argue, but Hunk cut her off.

“Uh, guys?” Hunk interrupted. “They’re headed this way.”

It was sad and uncomfortable for the other Paladins to see Keith and Shiro sharing secret smiles and playfully bantering with each other on their way back to the group with bags of supplies in their hands. Kosmo was trotting happily at their feet.

They looked like a proper couple. They looked like a happy couple, one purely enjoying the others company.

“Hey, guys,” Shiro greeted with a grin. “Keith and I got all the stuff you wanted. Also, did you know this place has some sort of cool alien candy? They even had one thing that tasted like real chocolate.”

Keith smirked. “It’s like Shiro was finally acting his age.”

Shiro bumped his shoulder into Keith’s. “Really? Leap year jokes?”

Keith hummed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be so hard on the elderly, oldtimer.”

It was an inside joke the others weren’t able to discern. It was cute, only making the impending news that much more depressing to those around them.

The smiles slid away when Shiro and Keith began to grasp the atmosphere. It was tense and palpable, nothing like they’d felt when they’d been shopping together.

They’d enjoyed their trip. The list itself Allura had given them was dull, but they’d found some way to make the trip worthwhile. They’d taken a detour when Keith noticed Shiro gazing longingly at the small painted pink shop, different sorts of treats in the display window. After much embarrassment from Shiro, they’d gone inside. It had been worth it for Keith to see Shiro’s eyes light up at one of the samples the owner allowed him to try. Shiro had excitedly told Keith it was like chocolate. While a total health nut, if Shiro ever indulged back on Earth, it was with chocolate. He’d admitted to Keith early on in their trip in space it was one of the things he missed from Earth, and when he’d tasted it he’d immediately bought the small package of which it came (despite the fact it was most definitely not on Allura’s list). It was one of the most endearing things Keith had ever witnessed and did nothing but smile at Shiro’s purchase.

Now, however, it was a completely different story.

“Shiro, you’ll be in Pidge’s lion from now on,” Allura commanded. “Keith will be in the black lion with his wolf.”

Lance winced while Pidge and Hunk cringed. Krolia showed no change in emotion, but was already hurting for her son. Allura was abrupt, getting straight to the point.

Keith frowned. “Why?”

Allura took in a deep breath. “I’m worried about the team’s dynamic.”

Shiro gave her a strange look. “The team’s dynamic? Have we done something wrong?”

“Not exactly,” Allura continued. “I think that your relationship with Keith could potentially hurt the team’s bond.”

“Is this about Shiro’s clone?” Keith asked darkly. “That’s over and done with. The clone is gone and we’re safe. This is Shiro. He won’t hurt me.”

“It’s not that,” Allura insisted. “It’s just with you two together in one lion I think there are possibilities that could lead the team to endanger themselves needlessly because of your misguided goals. I understand when it comes to the safety of your lover, but—”

“You’re putting us in separate lions because you guys think we’re screwing each other?” Keith interrupted bewilderedly. “Seriously?”

Shiro winced slightly at the language. It was clear to everybody that Keith was slowly growing frustrated. Back at the Garrison there had been complaints from angry students and concerned parents about the favouritism from Takashi Shirogane to the punk orphan. Students had accused Keith many times of getting good simulation scores because he bent over for the Lieutenant. Shiro knew better than the others just how deep that comment ran.

Shiro reached out to touch Keith’s shoulder, desperate to reign the man in before anything gets drastic. Luckily enough Keith didn’t push him away, but his anger didn’t seem to lower at all.

“You guys know Shiro and I are just friends, so what’s the big deal?” Keith continued. “Just because we’re close doesn’t mean we’re having sex.”

Allura put her hands on her hips. “I’m not naive, Keith. Bed sharing in close proximity is not in the Altean definition of friendship.”

Shiro and Keith both froze. They both knew the moment she was talking about. It had been a moment of weakness for Keith, a moment that would have never happened if he had known Allura was watching.

“For your information,” Keith said lowly, “I had a nightmare and Shiro was there to help me. I was panicking and he got me to calm down. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.”

“Keith…” Shiro trailed off, surprised at the admission.

It was pretty surprising for everybody to hear. Keith had walls up, and was usually adverse to letting people see him at his weakest. Admitting that he both needed and accepted help was something unexpected for everybody.

Keith’s nightmare that night had been bad. He’d lost Shiro again in his dream, and it had been his own fault. He hadn’t held on tight enough and Shiro’s hand slipped through his fingers, sending the man through space. Keith had woken up in a cold sweat, desperately trying to keep tears from falling down his face. Shiro had woken up to the gasping, and immediately rushed over to comfort Keith. He didn’t go into detail with Shiro, and Shiro didn’t ask for anything. Apparently Allura had caught the scene just after Shiro scooted over to invite Keith into his bed. Keith had been grateful, but now that memory had been tainted by an unknown onlooker.

None of the Paladins knew the backstory, only what Allura had told them from her point of view. Hunk, Krolia, and Pidge accepted Keith’s explanation and approved of whatever sort of relationship Keith and Shiro could have. Allura was wary, unsure, and it was affecting Lance. Lance, who had initially been all for Keith and Shiro having a relationship, was now doubting. Allura had good intentions at heart, everybody knew that except for maybe Keith, but Lance was the one who now had her back in the situation, no matter how strained his relationship with Keith could become.

“Anytime I’ve ever needed somebody, Shiro’s been there,” Keith continued. “He’s always been like a brother to me.”

“Brothers don’t ask if they can hold hands,” Allura argued.

“You heard that?” Shiro asked quietly. “It was nothing, Allura. I promise. Keith just needed somebody and I was there. Nothing more to it than that.”

Keith flushed with embarrassment and anger. “That was private. You had no right to listen in like that.”

“So what was it really? Nothing? Or was it a private moment between potential lovers?”

Keith let out a humourless laugh. “You overheard one sentence and you think we’re going to be ‘lovers?’”

“It’s more than that,” Allura insisted harshly. “What I saw… that’s more than friendship.”

“You don’t get to decide that!” Keith exclaimed. “How many times do I have to say that Shiro and I are just friends!”

“I believe you, Keith,” Krolia said. “But you must calm down.”

Krolia was only partially being honest. The amount of feeling Keith had put in his stories of Shiro was very telling of Keith’s true feelings. She believed they were only friends, but she knew both men had something that ran deeper than friendship. Her suspicions had only gotten worse the moment she’d seen Shiro for the first time. The boy had stuttered over his words and looked at Keith with wide eyes. Keith wasn’t the only one with feelings, that much she, and some others, could tell easily enough.

(It really didn’t help when Keith turned away to talk with Romelle that first time Shiro and Keith had seen each other after Keith’s two years. Shiro’s gaze had traveled considerably lower before snapping back up. There was a blush on his face that unfortunately for him Krolia had caught. Krolia was nowhere near adverse to the idea of Keith with Shiro, but the amusement she felt at seeing the black paladins moment of acting like a school child in love was something she most definitely was going to hold onto for a long time. Thankfully enough for Shiro, none of the others had noticed. Many of them would have had nothing but teasing words to say once the situation was over.)

Keith looked to Krolia, a betrayed look on his face. “Mom? You agreed to this?”

Krolia pressed her lips in a fine line. “I did not.”

That much seemed to please Keith, but only temporarily. He’d grown considerably in the two years he’d been with his mother, but now his blood was boiling. They’d included Shiro in these accusations and it was doing nothing to help him calm down. It was debatable if even Shiro could stop him at this point.

“What about the rest of you?” Keith questioned, rounding on the others. “Did any of you agree to this?!”

“I agreed with Allura,” Lance finally admitted amidst the long period of silence. “She’s kind of right, you know? I think you’d always go out of your way for Shiro, and maybe that’s just not what the team needs?”

It wasn’t particularly surprising Lance chose Allura over Keith, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see a teammate willing to, in a way, betray him.

“Pidge? Hunk?” Keith asked bitterly. “You haven’t said a thing so far. Speak up!”

Pidge and Hunk looked at each other, really not wanting to say they’d made bets about Shiro and Keith’s potential relationship. Overall, they disagreed with how Allura was handling the situation, but they felt their own opinions on the two’s relationship wouldn’t help the situation one bit.

“Keith, these are your comrades,” Krolia spoke up. “I understand how you feel, but you can’t let your anger get the best of you.”

Keith glared at Allura. “Comrades wouldn’t do things like make decisions behind the teams back. I’m a part of Voltron, don’t I get a say in this?”

Allura crossed her arms over her chest. “You should understand that what I’m saying is best for the team. Shiro is nothing but a distraction for you and there’s no way you can act at your finest with your thoughts surrounding your romantic interest. Look at how you’re acting now. You’re falling apart just at the thought of separating with him.”

Keith was fuming, but Shiro wasn’t ready for the impending fight. Keith’s pain was understandable, but Shiro (as well as Pidge, Lance, and Hunk) did not want to see an all out battle between Allura and Keith.

Shiro sighed before Keith could say anything else. “If that’s what you guys think, I’ll go in Pidge’s lion.”

Keith whipped around to look at Shiro. “You’re giving up like that?”

Keith looked hurt, and that made Shiro hurt in turn. The last thing Shiro wanted to do was leave, but he knew it wouldn’t be worth the fight. He didn’t need the team to get in a break up because he’d feel guilty. Nobody would truly think it’s his fault, but that doesn’t stop Shiro from feeling that it is that way.

Shiro shook his head. “I’d love staying with you, Keith, but I don’t think it’s worth this big fight.”

“But what they’re saying is—!”

“Not true, I know,” Shiro amended soothingly, gripping Keith’s shoulder tighter. “Let’s just do it their way for now, okay? We can see each other on planets we stop on and talk through the lions.”

Allura frowned. She should have guessed. At least they were nowhere near each other’s beds.

“But Shiro… I just got you back,” Keith muttered to Shiro. It was meant for only Shiro, but the others heard too. “Why are you letting them do this over something so stupid?”

Keith was clearly angry, but there was a hint of devastation in his tone too. This all the more made Pidge, Lance, and Hunk feel guilty. It was hard to watch Keith and Shiro gaze at each other, having a private conversation nobody else could decipher. They felt like they were intruding on an intimate moment between two people who actually were lovers. They felt like voyeurs and it did nothing but make the Paladins uncomfortable. Allura was holding on strong despite the scene in front of her, not willing to back down anytime soon.

Shiro gave him a weak smile. “You’ll have Kosmo and Krolia. You’ll be fine.”

Allura nodded. “Exactly. Thank you both for understanding.”

Her tone was tense, but she’d meant every word. However, that only caused Keith to feel his anger boil over. He felt Allura didn’t have any right to make these decisions. At this point he knew he was overreacting, but nobody could blame him. He’d just gotten the real Shiro back. Shiro was important to him, and Keith had even admitted it to himself long ago that he wanted to be more than friends with Shiro. Keith has never once acted on it though, so the accusations were nothing short of hurtful.

“Here’s your shit,” Keith growled, dropping the bags on the ground. He roughly tugged his shoulder out from Shiro’s grip. “I’m out.”

“Keith,” Shiro said sadly. “Keith, wait.”

Keith didn’t wait, but he also made no move to stop Shiro. Krolia and Kosmo were close behind, both ready to help in whatever way they could. Despite his actions, now was the time Keith didn’t need to be alone.

It didn’t help that Krolia had caught tears forming in Keith’s eyes.

“I stand by my decision,” Allura said firmly at all the looks she was getting when the four were out of earshot.

“Allura, I think you went too far,” Hunk stated. “Yeah, I kind of get where you’re coming from, but Shiro and Keith are just like that. Remember when Keith didn’t stop until he found Shiro after Shiro disappeared? That’s just how he is. No matter what you do I don’t think you could change that. I think you should just let them be in the same lion together. I… it’s not my place but I think they do love each other in a way they don’t realise yet, and I think we should let that take its course. So what if they want to… stuff? Point is, you can separate them but I don’t think anything will change.”

Allura shook her head. “What’s done is done.” She turned and headed toward the Blue Lion. “I’ll be in my lion if anyone needs me.”

It was very clear from her tone she didn’t want anybody to follow. Nobody wanted to. Allura was extremely set in her decision and nobody was going to change that.

“This trip is going to be extremely fun,” Pidge commented sarcastically.

Hunk sighed. “A whole year of it.”

#sheith

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childoftimeandmagic · 7 years

Text

Hopes and Dreams...

So this piece got very far away from me. It’s well over my aimed 1,500 words for a drabble. This is my Day Four AU Piece for @everythingisklaroline KlarolineAUWeek. It’s a College AU.

Caroline glared at her phone and the text from her best coworker/friend Rebekah, not only had she bailed on her shift forcing Caroline to spend what should have been her easy middle shift, training. But! The girl who had taken Bekah’s shift was a fucking ditz who refused to listen to her. As Caroline glared at her phone, she was mildly happy that at least if she was getting shafted at least Bekah was on a date. Turning her hundred-watt smile on the customer who was walking in she slipped her phone into her back pocket.

“Hi, Welcome to the Union Café, how can I caffeinate you today?” she said her voice faltering slightly, he was hot. Just then Vicki walked over from the storeroom. Caroline turned slightly and her eyes went from sunshine blue to ice in a second. “Hey Vic, could you please refill the pastries, I can handle the customer.”

“Sure Care, if you need help, just shout,” she said while openly checking out their customer. Rolling her eyes Caroline turned to the man in question.

“Apologies, what can I get you today?” she asked her smile slightly less bright.

“You’re alright luv, I would like a large English breakfast with some milk. Oh! To go if you don’t mind,” he said fishing his wallet from his back pocket. An English accent seriously, Caroline just nodded as she started going through the process of brewing his tea and fishing the milk from the small cooler under the counter.

“You’re far from home,” she said smiling trying to make some form of conversation.

“Ahh you caught the accent did ya?” he smirked and leaned on the top of her counter looking at her.

“You know my ears work pretty well,” she said pouring the milk in over the tea bag before turning to the register, “that’ll be two-fifty.”

“Seriously that cheap for a to go cup of tea?” he asked his eyebrows raised as he handed over the crisp five-dollar bill.

“Well we live to shock and amaze.” She said smiling at him as she handed him the corresponding two-fifty in change. “Have a great day.”

“I hope so, my sister is having me meet her inept American boyfriend and I’m supposed to suss him out for mum and our brothers.” He shook his head and looked back at her. “Apologies you don’t want to hear about my plans, thanks for the cuppa.”

“No problem-” she paused as the clues fell into place, “holy cow, your Nik! Bekah’s older brother!”

“You know my sister?” he asked turning back to look at her eyebrow cocked again.

“Well we work together here, have been since Freshman year. We’re both in the event planning and public relations major here. Plus, she’s mentioned you a few hundred times, and the rest of your family of course.” She felt the heat rising on her face as she realized she was officially rambling. “So that would make you Caroline?” he asked holding out his hand which she quickly shook while nodding.

“Yep that’s me, Caroline Forbes. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Well luv, it’s been a pleasure but I have a boyfriend to scare and a sister to annoy. Have a great afternoon.”

That was the end of a rather awkward and stilted conversation, Caroline nodded mutely while cursing her luck. The first guy that she was mildly interested in post-Tyler Fiasco and he was related to her best friend. Making him officially off limits. Groaning Caroline pulled out some wet wipes and got to work cleaning the counter and all obvious surfaces. At least, Kat, Elena, and Bonnie would get a kick out of this later when she went back to their apartment.

“Seriously brother, you want to invite Caroline out for drinks with Stefan and me?” Rebekah asked eyebrow raised as she looked at her older brother, he was being weird. When he just nodded as he continued to sketch in that ruddy notebook of his. She growled and snapped her fingers in his face. “I’m talking to you here, why do you want to invite her to drinks?”

“Because Bek’s she seems pleasant and if I’m honest I’m intrigued by her,” he said simply looking up once at his sister who was still holding her mascara wand in her hand. “Shouldn’t you finish your makeup?”

Taking her responding huff as a consent to make the appropriate call or text he went back to his sketching. While she’d gone from cool and collected to rambling when she recognized him he’d found it endearing. If the fact that half of her face was currently coming alive on the page of his notebook was any indication, Klaus Mikaelson was into the young blonde.

“Caroline is coming and she’s going to be late, so you can try and learn to like Stefan,” Rebekah said walking back into her living room.

“He’s alright enough, a bit stiff around the edges. Reeks of Catholic guilt though,” Klaus said closing his notebook quickly, and giving his sister a pointed look when she pouted that he’d denied her a peak at her latest work.

“Mum’s still hung up on the fact that I’m not dating an Anglican?” she muttered pulling her thigh high books up her legs.

“Mum’s never getting over that you’re dating an American I’m afraid.” He nudged her with her elbow and stuck his tongue out at her.

“Ahh and in the middle of Washington DC where was I going to find a fellow Brit who didn’t immediately recognize my name?” she said returning her big brothers sass.

“Embrace the scandal love I have and my paintings are selling better than ever.”

“That’s fair, but what if I simply want a guy who loves me for me not my money and possible title.”

“Of course, that’s a reasonable request, we’d just like him to be British.” Klaus wrapped an arm around his sister and pulled her close. Rebekah sighed and giggled a little as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“You want to fuck my best friend, don’t you?!” she asked suddenly sitting up straight. Klaus blanched at her phrasing and felt his face flush.

“I wouldn’t go that far-” he tried to get out.

“I mean of course you would want to fuck her I mean she’s the hottest girl on campus besides me. Oh god you cannot fuck my best friend,” Rebekah stood up from the couch pacing back and forth in her living room.

“Why not?” Klaus asked slowly leaning forward watching his sister absolutely loose her shit.

“Why nOT?” he winced as her voice rose to the pitch level most dogs hear at, “because you don’t’ fuck your sister’s friend! It’s in the bloody sibling code! If you guys fuck and you disappear like you’re won’t to do-oh god, it would crush her. Then she’d resent me for it. Niklaus, I swear to all that is holy and Kol’s beloved baseball bat, if you ruin this friendship for me I will beat you bloody!” Her rising shoulders and her hard glare convinced Klaus that maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to bring up her best friend.

“Bek’s love, I don’t want to simply bed her, I want to know her hopes, dreams and plans for her future. I wasn’t lying when I said she intrigued me and most women don’t intrigue me.” He stood up and walked over to her slowly. “I promise that I won’t ruin this friendship of yours.”

Bekah took a couple deep breaths and held her phone up to check that she hadn’t ruined her make-up. Once she was sure that her make-up was still impeccable she cleared her throat. “If you promise not to then I trust you, but my promise stands.”

“Right well we should go, don’t want to keep Stefan and Caroline waiting,” he said handing Bekah her purse.

“I know we were having a roommate movie night, but Rebekah apparently needs a buffer between her boyfriend and her brother,” Caroline said as she pulled on her favorite heeled booties, and checked her make up in the mirror.

“Okay spill you’ve checked your make-up twice now and you’re wearing your leather leggings with your ‘I’m not trying to hard’ sweater top,” Katherine said leaning against the bathroom door looking at the blonde again fluff her curls twice in a row. Suddenly an evil smile split across her face. “You want to fuck Bek’s brother, don’t you?!”

“What? No, of course not! That goes against everything in the girl code.” She responded, checking her lipstick as she smoothed it across her lips. Katherine giggled and shook her head clapping.

“Caroline Ann Forbes, you have the hots for this Mikaelson brother,” she pulled her phone out and looked at her before tapping away on the screen, “I don’t blame you he looks great in a suit.”

Confused Caroline spun around and grabbed the phone from Kats hands and looked at it to see an admittedly handsome face with brown hair and a well-tailored suit and a stern jaw staring back. “Kat this is Bekahs other older brother Elijah.” She tapped some more and found a picture of Klaus on a sofa. “Here this is Nik, the one that’s here this time.” Katherine whistled and took the phone back eyebrow raised.

“I think the other brother is hotter, but you two would make beautiful children,” she said ducking when Caroline threw a hair brush in her general direction. “REMEMBER THE RULE!” Shaking her head, she walked back rubbing her back.

“No throwing shit, because I have the best aim in the house,” Caroline parroted to Katherine while rolling her eyes.

“Jesus Care, you nailed me dead center of my spine, like you have scary aim,” Katherine muttered as she resumed looking through his Instagram account. “You have to admit though he’s the got the bad boy mildly successful artist thing down.”

Caroline shook her head grabbing her phone back from her roommate and while she also slipped her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll text you if I’m gonna be gone all night.”

“Care! Over here,” Bekahs excited call alerted Caroline she was heading in the wrong direction with her glass of white wine, when she turned and saw her favorite other blonde standing at a tall table in the other corner. Two men that Caroline quickly recognized as Nik and Stefan were talking and standing as far apart as they could be around a small round table.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I was wrapping up some homework for my public policy course,” she said smiling embracing Bekah and giving both men a quick hug, though she would be remiss if she didn’t acknowledge that Nik smelled amazing.

“No problem we only got here about ten minutes ago,” Stefan said stepping closer to Rebekah and wrapping an arm around her waist, this successfully put Caroline and Bekah between him and Klaus. Caroline offered him a small smile and turned to Klaus.

“How are you liking Washington DC?” she asked as she sipped her wine looking at him and trying to keep her eyes planted on his face.

“It reminds me of London, the lobbying, the politics.” He shrugged shooting a quick glance towards Rebekah and Caroline reminded herself why she was here. She turned so she was facing the middle of their little round table.

“So, Stefan how goes the world of law school? Still convinced you made the right choice?” she asked winking at Rebekah who beamed as Caroline brought up the one topic that Stefan was never shy on.

“Well now that you bring it up…” Stefan dove into his personal analysis of the last six months of his first year of the legal program at Georgetown. Caroline smiled as Klaus jumped into the topic hoping to trip up his sister’s boyfriend. Soon they were standing next each other debating the purpose and validity of government sanctions in the world of foreign policy.

Caroline slid over to Rebekah who had been uncharacteristically quiet as Stefan and Klaus talked. Nudging her lightly she raised an eyebrow and spread her hands slightly. Rebekah sighed and grabbed her hand and started to pull her after her towards the bathroom line. Caroline quickly set her almost empty glass of wine on the table and smiled apologetically at the confused men.

“Bekah, what is wrong?” she asked once they were out of ear shot from the guys.

“Oh, Caroline I’m so worried, what if Nik goes home and tells everyone that Stefan is exactly the kind of man that they’re worried I’m dating.” She pushed through the line towards the far back end of the wall of the bathroom by an unoccupied sink. Stopping she looked at Caroline expectantly as though her best friend had all the answers.

“Does your brother know how much you care about Stefan?” she asked slowly knowing that Rebekah had a massive habit of downplaying her affections and her emotions when it came to her family. It was the most annoyingly British trait about her.

“I mean, I-well I said that his good opinion of Stefan mattered a great deal because I can see this relationship going somewhere,” she whimpered looking at her best friend as she tilted her head back trying to keep her panic tears at bay.

“Then unless Damon crashes, your brother will give a glowing report back to your mother and other brothers,” Caroline said gently handing her best friend a Kleenex. As Rebekah dabbed at her eyes she cleared her throat and took a few deep breaths. Once she had calmed down and had thrown the tissue out, Caroline pulled her into a hug. “If she doesn’t I’ll kill him for you okay?”

Rebekah gave a weak laugh her arms clinging to Caroline tightly before pulling away and facing the mirror behind the two girls. Taking the opportunity to fix her make-up, with Caroline quickly followed suit fixing her make-up. As she fluffed her hair and reapplied her lipstick she looked at Rebekah out the corner of her eye.

“So, is Niklaus seeing anyone?” she asked slowly keeping her focus on her reflection ahead of her. When Rebekah paused in reapplying some powder, Caroline started mentally kicking herself.

“No…,” Rebekah said slowly going back to touching up her make-up and not looking at Caroline.

“Oh really, a guy like him? All brooding and mysterious?” Caroline pushed forward not looking at Bekah still. This time Bekah put her purse down and looked at Caroline.

“Caroline Forbes, are you asking me for information on my brother’s romantic life?” she asked her voice quiet. Caroline mentally swore and slowly nodded. “Do you like him?”

“I don’t know, I’m attractive to him-I mean nothing has happened, and I barely know him,” she trailed off as Rebekah just stared at her, eyes not meeting hers. Taking her friend’s hands, she pulled Bekah closer forcing her to look at her. “Rebekah, I would never date your brother, or even think about it if you don’t want me too. Even if he is the first guy I’ve found remotely interesting after everything that went down with Tyler.”

“For fucks sake Care, you can’t expect me to not give you permission after hearing something like that,” Rebekah sniffled looking at her only best friend, aside from Stefan who honestly didn’t count. “Though will you promise that even if things don’t-” she took a deep breath, “if things don’t work out, we’ll still be best friends?”

Caroline burst into laughter and pulled Bekah into a tight bear hug laughing as she grabbed another tissue from the box on the counter. “Beks you are an idiot, we’re friends for life, we’ve got a business to launch and your wedding to plan. Regardless of what happens with me and Nik, you and I are for life. You’re my soul-sister.” She wiped at Bekah’s eyes gently making sure her make-up remained perfection.

“Then of course you can explore this attraction with my brother, though I should warn you, he wants to hear all about your hopes, your dreams, or some rot,” Bekah shuddered as she said that shaking her head. “I think he’s into you too, and if you go right now you can bring him to our favorite 24/7 diner for coffee and discuss all of that.”

“You and Stefan going to be okay if we disappear?” she raised an eyebrow and silently cheered when Rebekah shooed at her. “You are an absolute angel on this earth!” Caroline raced through the crowded bar to find Stefan and Klaus still embroiled in their debate. “Sorry to interrupt, Klaus could I borrow you for a second?”

“Of course, excuse me Stefan,” he said stepping towards her watching as she grabbed her purse. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh-” she looked at Stefan who looked a little relieved and was hugging Rebekah tight to him. “Everything is fine I just thought maybe we could go do our own thing.” She leaned forward so she was against his chest and whispered, “You know talk about dreams, hopes, and other sappy stuff.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow and when Caroline responded with a cocked brow of her own, he didn’t need any further encouragement. Soon they were walking into the low-lit DC streets arms linked as they went.

Caroline sighed happily nestling closer to the warmth against her, before the rather unyielding pillow chuckled. Cracking an eye open, she felt her face flushing as a very much awake Klaus stared down at her.

“Morning luv,” he said smoothing some hair away from her face.

“Good morning,” she mumbled closing her eyes and blinking a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes. “So, we stayed out almost all night?”

“Almost, and before you worry if you did or not, you texted your roommate group chat last night,” he said leaning over placing a quick kiss to her cheek as she sat up and cuddled against his warm body.

“I remember, were you watching me sleep?” she asked yawning as the time on the clock flashed only nine am, four hours of sleep.

“No as Beks puts it, that would be creepy, I was debating going for a coffee run. My hotel doesn’t have a coffee maker in it,” he said chuckling as she brightened considerably.

“Since we’re both up could go out breakfast?” she asked softly worrying her lip as she stared him in the eye.

“That sounds like the best way to spend the morning I could think of,” he said leaning over the side to pull his Henley over his head. When he pulled it down dislodging completely for a second he was caught off god as Caroline placed a light, hesitant kiss to his lips.

“I’m glad we went off on our own.” She said pulling away pushing another loose strand behind her ear.

“Me too,” he said wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, “remind me to thank Bekah.” Caroline made a noise of agreement as she closed the distance and kissed him again.

“I think we both owe her a favor at the bare minimum.” She mumbled against his lips.

#klarolineauweek #klaroline #writing corner #this got away from me #first time writing Stebekah ever #it felt weird #mainly cause I hate Stefan but whatever that was what felt right for this piece #this is also very slow build #well as slow build as a one shot can be...#day three: Human AU

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monumentalnightmare · 7 years

Text

Happy Hour At Shorty’s

I’ve been working on this today and it’s my first fanfiction I’ve written in a while so I don’t know if this is any good but I hope you enjoy this anyway.

Walking into Shorty’s during happy hour hadn’t been on Nicole’s agenda for today. She usually worked during it sine Nedley usually made his way over here, however, with him off due to sickness, Nicole decided to give herself an hour away from work instead. As per usual, the place was packed but it wasn’t as though she expected anything less at this time – it was lovely to see so many people in the same place for the same reason, even if it was just for alcohol.

Removing her Stratton hat, Nicole took a seat at the very end of the bar away from the rest of the customers waiting to be served. Truth be told, Nicole wasn’t fussed about being served at all – she just needed to get away from the desk at the station. Today had to be at the top of her list of being the worst day – well, one of the top anyway. Everything had been going wrong from paperwork being filed away incorrectly to the station getting calls for stupid things. Of course, all of this would happen when Nedley is sick. The amount of times she’d been called out to a house because of neighbors complaining about a family shouting and screaming at each other was now beyond her. That, however, wasn’t the main reason behind what had made the day as terrible as it had been. The icing on the cake, so to speak, happened when Nicole got a phone call from Chicago about two hours previous.

To anyone who knows her, it was never a secret that she didn’t talk to her parents – hell, their last conversation was around nine years ago when they kicked her out. There was a lot of shouting and screaming, mainly from her father, which made her wince even to this day whenever she thinks about that day. Nicole remembers being on the bed kissing a girl – her girlfriend – before her bedroom door opened with her parents stood there with a look of shock before anger took over. There were a lot of hurtful words spat out during that time which she still hates hearing to this day, but Nicole knows she has grown since then and even after everything she has been through, she still cannot forgive them. She doesn’t want to. Parents are supposed to love you no matter what and they both let her down. Nicole had done her best to try and hide her true self away from them since she expected something like that to happen due to them both being extremely Catholic but, of course, plans change. Luckily, she had an aunt that lived close by so that’s where she stayed for the last year of high school. Her aunt found out what happened and according to her, it was obvious that Nicole was gay from a young age. If she was being honest, Nicole was just glad to get away from her parents even though that did mean leaving her sister, Teegan, with them. Not something Nicole liked that was for sure.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Looking up, Nicole is greeted by the beautiful smiling brunette who she had been crushing on for a few weeks. Waverly Earp. God damn, the last time she had been in this bar was when they first met and now, here she is again. Nicole couldn’t help but return the smile back before shaking her head looking down at the counter.

“You don’t need to worry about me, Miss Earp. Sorry – I mean, Waverly. I get used to using formalities whilst I’m working.” Nicole explained chuckling a little. Anyway, there are a lot of other people waiting to be served rather than myself. I’m literally only here to clear my head so just pretend I’m not here.”

There was a small pause before a small shot glass was placed in front of Nicole. The red head looked up and noticed Waverly holding a bottle before filling up the glass. Once filled, the brunette pushes it in front of her with no words being said. Nicole looks at the glass before raising her head with a questioning gaze.

“The perfect drink for wanting to forget and clear your head,” Waverly said motioning to the glass. “You have no idea how much my sister drinks that.”

Lifting the glass up to her nose, she sniffs it before wincing a little. Of course - it would be tequila. What other drink helps you forget things? She puts the glass down noticing Waverly is currently leaning against the counter with her arms folded on top of the bar.

“Want to know something interesting?” Waverly asked.

“I’d love to, Waves.”

The brunette blushes. “Waves – I like when you say that. Anyway, Tequila was actually first produced back in the sixteenth century near the city of Tequila, however, the city itself wasn’t established until 1666. Crazy, right?”

Nicole couldn’t believe how easily Waverly could help her feel better about what was currently going on in her own life. The fact that this woman knew so many things just made Nicole become intrigued even more – not even counting in her beauty and persona. She could literally listen to her talk about the history of things all day and not get bored. Not just history either – anything.

“Do you know that due to being a bartender?”

Waverly shakes her head standing up straight running her fingers through her hair. “Actually, no. I’m just a big fan of history which I’m sure you already know. I came across this information in a book about Mexico. I love to read so.”

“Yeah? I always find you find out something now when you read.” Nicole picks up the glass once again drinking the shot before slamming it down on the counter – she felt her face scrunching up in the process. “Damn, that’s some strong stuff.”

“The reason behind how it helps you forget,” Waverly responds with a giggle causing Nicole’s stomach to flutter instantly. “Now, are you going to tell me why you have come here today during Happy Hour? I’ve not known you very long, however, I do know you well enough to know you usually work at this time since it’s Nedley who comes here.”

Nicole raises her eyebrow in interest. “You know I work during happy hour?”

“Of course – you’re the only female officer in Purgatory,” Waverly says, refilling her glass as Nicole bites her lip moving a finger along the edge of her Stratton. “I also can’t help but notice you. We are around each other a lot since I help Wynonna with Black Badge stuff.”

“You do?” Nicole blushes when her fingers brush slightly with Waverly’s when the brunette hands her the re-filled shot glass. The red head holds the glass between her fingers. “I’m surprised and pretty sure you’re the first. Being the only female officer in this small town, I don’t exactly have any perks that come with it.”

“Oh, I can assure you, it does have its perks.”

Nicole picks up the glass drinking the liquid in one before placing it down and pushing it back in Waverly’s direction. Not one-person since she moved here has bothered to get to know her, aside from the woman in front of her. Waverly Earp is definitely something else. They have each other’s numbers and do text quite frequently which, frankly, doesn’t help her crush on her. She would usually come out and say it but she knows Waverly needs time. It’s not been long since she broke up with the boy-man Champ Hardy and she isn’t even sure if Waverly has even taken interest in other women in the past. It wasn’t something they had spoken about. Nicole slowly raised her head to look at the brunette before sighing.

“My parents died in a car accident today and I feel terrible because I don’t care.”

It was true – she got a phone call and all Nicole had felt was relief. Relief that she would no longer have to bump into them accidently or see them at family gatherings forcing her to engage in a two-minute catch up which neither of them cared for. Whilst it never happened when they were alive, it didn’t mean it wouldn’t have done if they still were. She feels awful about it and knowing she still has to go to their funeral fills her with dread. Nicole knows she will have to go back to Chicago at some point to check on Teegan, her aunt and to sort their house out, but she still had time. Nicole was just grateful Teegan had her aunt to look after her there – she wouldn’t know what would have happened otherwise.

“I’m sorry about your parents, Nicole,” Waverly asks, putting a hand on Nicole’s arm in comfort. “Why don’t you care, if you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

Nicole flashes the brunette a smile shaking her head. “Not at all. They found me kissing a girl I was dating at the time in my bedroom. Well, they are – were – extremely Catholic so, as you can imagine, it didn’t go down too well.”

“They kicked you out?” Waverly asks in conformation, causing Nicole to look at the brunette in surprise. “Sorry – it’s the first thing I thought of. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You are indeed, Miss Earp.”

Nicole locks her fingers together looking at Waverly with a grin on her face before looking down at her fingers in front of her. She feels Waverly’s hand rest on top of hers causing a smile to form.

“It’s not just that though. They disowned me on the spot and I went to live with my aunt for the last year of high school before joining the police academy. Not seen or heard from them since I was seventeen years old and now I guess I never will.”

“I’m honestly so sorry to hear that, Officer Haught.” Waverly moves her hands down to Nicole’s arms squeezing them in comfort. She appreciated the small joke of calling her Officer instead of her actual name to try and break the tension a little bit. “I know what it’s like to not have any parents. I know it’s different for you as yours chose to not know you pretty much after finding out your sexuality. I’m not sure if it will make you feel better or help you to know someone else knows how you feel, but I lost my daddy when I was six and my mother left me and my sisters when I was four. Being an Earp definitely is a curse at times, trust me.”

“You sound like me.” Nicole laughs looking into Waverly’s eyes enjoying the glint that she sees as they look at each other. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

Waverly smiles nodding her head. “I don’t mind. I’m just saying I understand what it’s like to have no parents around. I was pretty much raised by my aunt after the situation that happened with my own family, so you’re not alone. I guess that doesn’t mean a lot.”

Nicole shakes her head putting a hand over Waverly’s with a smile.

“It means everything to me. You are actually the only person who has even tried to get to know me and the fact you focused on me to find out what was going on with me does mean a lot.” Nicole explains standing up. “I just apologize that this version of me is different to the one you first met. I’m usually a lot more confident and sure of myself. I’m a private person, you know? I’m not used to opening up so this is kind of a big deal for me.”

“I’m glad you felt as though you could trust me enough to tell me about yourself and the past with your parents,” Waverly says cleaning Nicole’s glass before putting it away. “You don’t tell many people?”

Nicole shakes her head putting her hat back on. “Not really so you should feel special.”

“Oh I do, Officer. However, I have a question to ask you and I know it may totally be the wrong time to ask you, but you’ve had a terrible day and -”

“Waves, breathe.”

Waverly nods taking a breath looking at the police officer. “I finish at six so how about we go for coffee? We’ve still not gone for one and you did say some other time.”

“I did say that and lucky for you I finish at half five today so I accept your coffee request.” Nicole winks with a grin getting her wallet out. “So, thank you for listening to me and I honestly appreciate it. You’ve helped me forget about my terrible day and distracted me. How much do I owe you?”

“Come on Nicole – you don’t owe me anything. It’s on me.” Waverly insists holding a hand up. “I’m not accepting any payment today so you can forget it. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to open up even a little bit though.”

“So, see you at six?”

Waverly bites her lip with a smile nodding. “See you at six.”

With a final look at Waverly, Nicole makes her way out of the bar towards the station with a grin upon her face. The day may have been a terrible one but Waverly Earp definitely plans to give it a good ending.

#wynonna earp #wayhaught #nicole haught #waverly earp #fanfiction

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sceawere · 7 years

Text

finders keepers | michael gray

anon requested tommy’s errand girl and michael

“Tommy, I have the-“

Michael lifted his head as he entered the office, folder in hand. His eyes landed on the woman sat in the chair opposite Tommy first and his words stalled.

“Forgive me, I didn’t realise”

“It’s alright. She’s one of us”

Tommy held his hand up to take the folders and Michael hovered next to the girl while he scanned the page. He looked down out the corner of his eye, trying to be covert in assessing her. She was sat completely still, ankles tucked behind each other under the chair, with her hands in her lap. He quickly looked away as she spoke, surprised at the steady but firm tone of her words. It was a clash with the image of her, like a statue coming to life in a gallery.

“I can come back”

“No. This is what I needed you for. Here – what do you think?”

She reached out to take the papers from Tommy, perching it on her knee. Her hair fell to cover her face and he almost reached out to tuck it back behind her ear. Creep. She completed the action herself, brow furrowed just slightly. Her lips ghosted movement, tracing the shapes of the words. She took a breath as she lifted her head, tilting it in a sweeping movement.

“This is complete bullshit”

She spoke in a measured tone, her face almost bored. Tommy broke into a smile, looking up to Michael. He used the arm that was perched on the chair, holding his cig, to point to her. The smoke trailed after the movement, spinning in the space it created.

“What would I do without this one, eh? Always gives it to me straight”

She stood, placing the papers carefully on the table. She reached for Tommy’s discarded pen and started annotating the sheet.

“Who did this?”

“Police”

“Pay rolled?”

“New intake”

“They’re split”

“I know. I just wanted to check”

“You want me to run over to-”

“If you could”

She nodded, scanned the page once more, and dropped the pen. She slid the sheet around and over to Tommy.

“Just off the top of my head”

He nodded, reaching into the drawer and bringing out an envelope.

“For your trouble”

She lifted the packet, nodding to Tommy, and left the room without a second look. Michael watched her go, waiting until the last flow of her coat spun out onto the street.

“Friend of yours?”

“Long-time associate. She does a bit of work for me”

“Can’t be any older than me”

“She’s not”

“You said ’long-time’?”

“Yes”

Michael stood, hands in pockets, waiting for an explanation. When it was clear none was forth coming, he scowled and reached out to pick up the packet of smokes left on the table.

“Haven’t seen her around before”

“Only comes in when I need her. Not much of a people person”

“Explains why you get along so well, then”

Tommy rolled his eyes up for just a second, going back to reading her scribbles. How he could read them, Michael didn’t understand. From his angle they looked like incomprehensible scrawl.

“You taking an interest?”

“Isn’t that what you pay me for?”

“I pay you to add up my sums”

“And the rest”

“It’s not my story to tell, Michael. You can try your own luck, if you so wish”

He didn’t see her again properly for weeks, except for the flash of her as she passed his office door on the way out. He never seemed to see her enter, only leave. He was desperately trying to rid his thoughts of her when a bundle came across his desk one day.

“What’s this?”

“Dunno, was left in the drop. Got your name on the front”

He nodded them off, reaching to untangle the envelope from the top of the package. It took him a moment to decipher some of the words, rain drops scattered around the storming swoops of letters.

“Tommy told me you’re my contact while he’s south. Enclosed what he asked for”

His eyes lingered over the scroll of her name at the foot of the paper, tracing it over in his mind.

He dropped the note to the table, unwrapping the package. After staring at it for a ridiculous amount of time, turning it over and back, checking the note three more times, and looking for secret compartments, he finally gave up trying to work out what was happening.

“Rees?”

“Yes, boss”

He handed the note over to the man.

“Do you know how to get in contact with her?”

He snorted a laugh.

“Tommy’s little carrier pigeon? Yeah, when you need her?”

“Now. If you could. As soon as possible”

He clapped the note over his hand, dropped it to the table, and left the room.

What the hell did Tommy want with a porcelain doll in a fluffy pink dress?

Michael was the last one in the office, waiting for her to arrive with nothing but the sound of the storm keeping him company. The scrape of the door outside his office set him alert and he edged his hand under the desk for his gun just in case. Her silhouette came against the frosted glass a second before her knock did and he called her in.

She didn’t say anything, stood in the doorway, dripping rain onto the boards below. She kept one hand on the handle, the other straight by her side. She kept blinking, waiting for him to ask for something.

“Uhh…you can come in”

“I’d prefer not to. What do you need?”

He stood and she stepped back, putting her weight onto the door a little more. He lifted the doll from where it had been hidden beside his desk. It’d stared at him for the better part of the afternoon and he’d finally had enough, tucking it down out of sight.

“I asked for you 5 hours ago”

“I wasn’t available until now”

He looked up at her, trying to work anything out from her stance, her tone. Nothing. Closed book. He lifted the doll.

“What’s this all about?”

She flicked her eyes to it, before shrugging and speaking in a tone that made it sound like an obvious answer.

“Tommy”

“That doesn’t explain anything to me”

“Tommy will. Or he won’t”

“Tommy isn’t here”

“I’m aware”

“Can you speak in a sentence?”

“Yes”

He sighed, sitting back into his chair and dropping the doll onto the desk a little harsher than he probably should.

“You break that, we’re fucked. It was hard enough to get. Not happening again”

He looked up at her, the ghost of a smile coming to his face. The longest exchange they’d had so far.

“What’s it for?”

“Whatever Tommy wants it for”

“Do you know what that is?”

“Maybe”

“Will you tell me?”

“Not my job”

He motioned to the chair opposite his desk. She didn’t move for a while, considering. When she was in the chair, he gave her another look over.

“You should dry off”

She stuck out her jaw, quirked her eyebrow, and nodded.

“Probably. Wanna hurry up so I can leave?”

He smiled for real this time.

“For a quiet girl, you’ve got a snap”

“So I’ve been told”

“By who? Oh-”

“Tommy” they spoke at the same time. She quirked her lips a little, the first time he’d seen her move her face into anything other than sarcasm or boredom. She took a breath, flicking her eyes around behind him.

“You’re the…cousin?”

“Yes”

“Heard about you”

“Only good things, I hope”

“Mostly that you killed a priest…which…I mean the morality of that depends on who you speak to”

His face dropped and he moved his eyes to the table.

“I’m speaking to you - what do you think?”

She considered for a moment, her eyes on the window behind his head. He could see her eyes following the trails down, shooting back up to catch a new droplet in her gaze when the other disappeared out of site.

“About the killing or the priest?”

“Both”

“I know why you did it”

“That’s not what I asked”

“What are you asking for? Absolution? Should have gone to a priest for that”

“You really aren’t a people person”

“Not really,” she paused “I don’t believe in killing anyone. But I understand it”

She stood and started to walk out of the room, turning back when she was in the doorframe.

“Tommy’s trying to butter someone up. The dolls a one-of-a-kind and they have a spoilt daughter so…”

“You found him the doll she wanted so her father will work with us”

She nodded and left.

It took another dozen interactions for them to have anything close to a normal conversation. She tended to keep her interactions to only the basics, giving just enough detail to satisfy your query. He’d asked her about it and she’d rolled her eyes.

“People talk too much. We have this innate need to fill the silence.

You wouldn’t believe the amount of information I’ve gotten out of people just by sitting and staring at them until they couldn’t bare that I wasn’t speaking and they tried to fill the gap with whatever they could”

“Careful, you almost let me know something about yourself there”

The door closing behind her was the only way she ever said goodbye.

The glint of metal drew his eyes up. He’d pushed a document over the desk for her to assess and when she’d bent over to trace the page, her necklace had fallen from beneath her shirt. It swayed in the space before her, dangling and dancing.

“You’re Catholic?”

Her eyes flicked up from the page and she looked almost shaken for a moment.

“Yes”

“I didn’t know that about you”

“Do you know much about me?”

“Not that”

“It bothers you?”

She was good at that – questions, digging into people, delving below what you wanted to give her.

“I assumed – only I know your mother”

“I’m not my mother”

“And you did kill a priest”

They looked at each other for a moment and he was confused at the softness of her eyes. She kept them to him as she reached up and tucked the pendant back below the fabric. She dropped her eyes a few inches, then a few more, before moving her head back to fully face the page.

“You said you knew why”

“I do”

“I don’t think you-“

“I do.”

“My mother…”

“Didn’t tell me”

“Tommy”

“Didn’t tell me”

“Then how-“

“I don’t know that much about you. But I know…people. And I know that fucking look when I see it” she cleared her throat and he could tell that while she was looking at the words, she wasn’t paying any attention to them.

“I don’t condone killing, but I understand it. I craved absolution too”

His eyes moved to hers as she lifted her head and she licked her lips, sitting back into the chair.

“It’s how Tommy found me. I-“she let out a breathless laugh, swiping her thumb over her lips.

“I walked in front of his car covered in blood. Probably scared him half shitless. I was so out of it, I don’t even remember…”

“You…like me?”

She nodded, leaning her head against her fist. She looked off, through the desk.

“I didn’t do it myself. I couldn’t.

We were in a car and…I don’t know, the tyre blew, something- a bang, we were going so fast it threw us right over. So there was a bang, then we were off the road, down the side of the sheer, and then upside down.

And there was glass in my eye, and blood on my…I could hear him begging…I didn’t do anything. He was probably half dead already, I just let him go”

She swallowed.

“Tommy found me. And he found me somewhere to stay, and someone to stay with. Found me something to do”

“And now you find him things”

She gave him a sad smile.

“I still believe because…he found me. I was wandering long before I staggered down that road, hoping someone would find me one day. And he found me. Like he found you”

“How do you do that? Every time I…can’t”

“Beliefs always been about suffering. Enduring suffering, overcoming suffering, relieving suffering. Maybe I just need the hope of absolution. Maybe you need that too”

“Are you preaching to me?”

She smiled a little wider.

“Nah, you need to be a people person to preach. I’m offering to find you something though”

“Find what?”

“A little hope of absolution…maybe. Or a really good bottle of scotch. Whichever. I’m open to suggestions”

“Is that humour you’re using?”

“I’m trying it out, yeah”

“Your smile…”

“What about it?”

“I’m glad you found it”

She licked her lips, tilting her head to the side.

“Want me to help you find yours?”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray #|writing

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