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mckiwi · 2 months

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Heat of the Moment

To Read on AO3

"Heat of the Moment": Asia, 1982

Something is invading and killing the villagers of Jotunheim. Now sitting as king of Jotunheim, Loki reluctantly summons Stephen to help him save his kingdom. Stephen gets to prove magic isn't the only thing he's good at.

Genre: Comedy/Adventure/Murder Mystery

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki Laufeyson, and Thor Odinson

Words: 3,191

"You mean you can't just 'abracadabra' your problems away?" Loki asks with feigned shock.

"Oh, please. First, Thor doesn't understand how e-mails work, now you apparently don't know what the term 'kidnap' means. Allow me to explain it to you, Your Royal Highness. 'To take someone away illegally by force.'" Stephen defines sassily.

"I have no concern for your Midgardian laws, Wizard," Loki says.

"You used the Bifrost to take me from my Sanctum! That's an invasion of privacy." Stephen chides, then adds, "And the preferred term is 'Master of the Mystic Arts.'"

"I didn't even want to summon you, initially!" Loki argues back.

"Well I'm here now, and it better be for good reason!" Stephen snaps.

"Trust me, it'll be worth your time." Loki says, ignoring Stephen's unimpressed look at 'trust me,' "you're a doctor, or at least was one, yes?"

Stephen, baffled at why that particular detail of his life was being brought up, asks, "Correct, but what does that have to do with you rudely kidnapping me?"

"And you are the current Sorcerer Supreme as well?"

"Actually, that would be Wong. Though I'm a sort of unofficial second-in-command," Stephen explains.

Loki didn't look as if he fully believed him, but carried on regardless. "I need your– your duty as a sorcerer– your assistance would be," he softly growls in frustration at himself, "you would be doing Jotunheim a great service if you would be willing to assist us in our time of need." Loki nods, satisfied with his request.

As amusing as it was seeing the silver-tongued god struggle for words, Stephen wasn't that cruel. "Fine, I'll help. What exactly is the problem?"

His agreement seemed to at least ease some of the tension off Loki's face, "You see, two villages have been invaded, all civilians either killed gruesomely or reported missing. And we have no information on the creature suspected of these crimes. No trace of them to identify. Rather impressive, I must say."

Any irritation Stephen was holding turned into intrigue, "Yeah, I'd say that justifies as a problem."

"To put it lightly," Loki agrees. "Oh, and I did also ask Thor to assist. As much as I hate to admit it, we'll most likely be needing him."

"No arguments from me," Stephen says with a nod. "Why do you need my help, anyway? You're intelligent. A fairly decent sorcerer, too, despite how much you seem to love daggers."

Loki sighs, "You and only one other have ever managed to trick me. Surely for an accomplishment such as that there's something to be of use from you."

"Thank you," Stephen says with a small smirk.

"That wasn't a compliment." Loki retorts.

"Sure it wasn't."

"It wasn't!"

"Brother!" That was Thor, striding into the room. "Strange! You will be accompanying us on our journey as well? Loki, I see you finally decided to get help!" Loki narrows his eyes at Thor's word choice. "The more the merrier! How does life treat you these days?" He sets a hand on Stephen's shoulder with such force he nearly stumbles over like a bowling pin.

"I'm doing pretty good. What about you?" Stephen asks.

"I'm also doing well, thank you. Brother, how's your reign been so far?" Thor turns his attention to Loki.

"All has been settled nicely with hardly any misgivings, our current predicament excluded of course. What of yours?" Loki asks with a hint of a prideful smile curling his lips.

Thor answers, "New Asgard is coming along nicely. Stark has been kind enough to help us get settled as our own establishment."

"I'll have to come by and visit soon, then. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to figure out who's killing my people now."

—————————

He had seen disturbing injuries in his time working at the ER, ranging from point-blank GSWs to a drunk man falling into a bonfire. (Charred skin is one of those smells you will never forget.) Never has Stephen seen something quite like this, however. The fire casts shadows across the walls as he crouches down to get a better look at the body. The Frost Giant man, albeit taller and bluer than the average male, has surprisingly similar anatomy to a human. "Even my interns at the hospital would've been ashamed of a Krocher incision like that," Stephen comments, hovering his hand over the sloppy gash. "About a 20° downward slope starting just under the rib cage. I'd say about 8 or 9 inches wide. I suspect an organ might be missing, too. You see the way the stomach caves in a bit more there?" He gestures to the area right under the ribs.

"Do you have any ideas of what could've caused a cut like that?" Loki asks, crouching down on the other side of the body.

"The stomach wasn't cut open, it was ripped open. I once had to treat someone who was mauled by a black bear. Looked a lot like this. It could've been caused by a claw, or dull instrument of some kind." Stephen explains.

Thor asks, "You suspect one of the other villagers could have done this?"

Before Stephen can answer, Loki chimes in, "They've invaded two villages. Surely a single person wouldn't be able to do this much damage."

"Probably a creature of some kind then. How many do you think?" Stephen asks.

Loki puffs his cheeks in exasperation, "How am I to know?"

"Not only were you born here, you're the king of Jotunheim. I assume you know what creatures live around here and if they come in packs."

"Oh what, so you knew what animals were around the place you were born?"

"I was a farm kid, so yeah, actually, I did. Had to know what to protect the cattle from." Stephen stands up with a huff to stand beside the lit furnace, watching the flames devour the wood inside, and lets the silence sit for a moment.

"Amazing how quickly fire can destroy," Loki comments, also watching the wood curl and flake away into the glittering coals below.

"Or preserve," Stephen challenges, "I don't know if Asgard or Jotunheim has the same custom, but on Earth, we sometimes choose to cremate our dead. The flesh will decay, but the ashes, however... the ashes allow us to keep them close without smelling quite so bad." Loki snorts softly at that. "Should we cremate this body?"

"We have our own customs that I'll see to after we get things settled," Loki says. The trio watched the flames in silence for a few moments. The fire crackled and ashes rose to land on a nearby dusty shelf. "What're you doing?" Loki asks as Stephen approaches the shelf.

He runs a finger across the wood, inspecting the layer of dust now coating his finger. "Did you know that dust is largely composed of skin cells?" At Thor and Loki's questioning looks Stephen announces, "I've an idea." With a sweeping of his hand, he gathers the dust into a loose but small golden cylinder. As he explains, the cylinder spins around rapidly, "this spell will act as a sort of centrifuge. It'll keep the skin cells in and kick the other particles out." As said, the spell released and only a few particles remained. Stephen draws the particles into his palm and slides his other hand over them. A thin, golden line follows. He pushes the spell forward and the line shoots out past the building, far past what they could see.

"Woah," Thor breathes.

Stephen allows himself a small, prideful smile. "No trace of them to identify, huh?" He asks, quoting Loki.

"Shut up," Loki says as start to follow the line.

—————————

As a Master of the Mystic Arts, Stephen is expected to have at least a basic knowledge of the nine realms, but he somehow underestimated just how frigid the place actually is. He's slightly jealous of the two æsir. Both Thor and Loki only wear their normal armor, yet still look completely unfazed. The snowflakes clinging to their hair is a mere fashion accessory to them. Meanwhile, Stephen is shivering even with four layers of thick clothing and the air itself hurts his face. His hands ache something awful, too. He can feel the cold metal beneath his skin and the way his blood vessels constrict around them. Thor's higher body temperature allows him to not feel the cold so harshly, and Loki's biology thrives in the cold. Goldilocks got it wrong this time. Being in the middle wasn't just right.

"The spell ends here," Loki breaks him from his thoughts. He didn't even realize the brothers had stopped walking. Stephen looks up from where he had been absent-mindedly stepping in Thor's larger footsteps in the snow, only to face the opening of a cave. The mountain range they had trekked the edge of hid the mouth like it was a sacred treasure to be kept secret. He probably wouldn't have even noticed it if Loki hadn't pointed it out.

"Where is 'here,' exactly?" Stephen asks.

"I would imagine this is the pests' place of residence. Perhaps the villagers that have gone missing were brought back here." Loki answers.

"Seems like a safe bet," Stephen concurs.

Thor says, "All-Father grant us strength and protection. Let us go, then."

"Wait, we're not coming up with a plan or anything? Loki, back me up here." Stephen cautions.

"What is that phrase you people of Earth use? 'Expect the unexpected'. That's our plan." Loki explains flippantly.

"That is not a plan. That's just... going with the flow." Stephen scoffs.

Loki smirks, "Let's hope you're a good swimmer then, Strange." Loki starts walking towards the cave's entrance with Thor at his heels.

"Oh for the love of–" Stephen sighs, but follows. These two idiots are bound to get themselves killed at this rate.

The cave was dark the further they went in. Stephen had cast a night vision spell on the trio so they could explore without drawing attention to themselves. At least by light, that is. Sound is another issue.

Loki hisses, "Could you possibly walk any louder?"

Thor huffs in a whisper, "I'm only walking as I normally do."

"We're trying to sneak in here, you big oaf. Key word there being 'sneak.'" Loki says.

"I am well aware of that!" Thor insists, and at least attempts to soften his footsteps.

Stephen matches his pace to Thor's, "Hang on, watch me. Roll your feet like this. Heel hits the ground first, then you roll to your toes." He demonstrates and Thor tries to copy his movements. "My father used to go fox hunting when I was a child and would occasionally bring me along. He taught me how to walk through the woods without scaring the animals."

"I never took you for a hunter, Strange," Thor comments.

"I never did shoot anything. I would mostly just watch the birds and squirrels. It was peaceful out there. I would just tell my father nothing was out." Stephen whispers.

"Do neither of you understand the concept of being quiet?" Loki whispers back, giving the pair a side-eye Michelle Obama would be proud of. The ground beneath them starts to rumble slightly, only lasting a few seconds. A low groan echoes from the other side of the cave, which quickly leads to various more groans.

The three stare into the darkness. The darkness stares back at them.

Then blinks.

"Run!” Thor leads the way, with Loki in the middle and Stephen trailing closely behind. They maneuver through the tunnels as hound-like creatures with long claws chase at their heels. Stephen turns around briefly to cast the Flames of the Faltine, leaving a barrier of flames between the trio and the creatures. Much to Stephen's confusion, the creatures aren't deterred from the flames, instead, they seem to bathe in the warmth. It almost stops him in his tracks, but a hand grabs him around the wrist and pulls him along. He hears Loki mutter something under his breath, probably an insult, before the two are off to catch up to Thor.

They run through the tunnels until Thor comes to a sudden stop. He and Loki almost plow into him. Thor backtracks quickly from where he almost falls off a small cliff. Down below is a large ravine. The entire hoard of creatures scamper across small ledges alongside the walls. The floor is made of black, rough stone, and orange light leaks through cracks spreading throughout the stone. What catches their eyes though, is the giant creature in the middle. Over ten times the size of the other creatures, this one lazily has it's mouth open while the other creatures come by and drop small chunks of meat into it. He hears Thor suck in a breath beside him and follows his eye-line to see a Jötunn body tucked away into a crevice, its stomach torn open as one of the creatures roots around in his guts. It pulls out an organ. Smaller creatures, possibly the children, come and drag the body away, munching at the body's sides while doing so.

"They're eating the livers," Stephen says, lip curling in disgust.

Loki blanches, "No, Strange. They're feeding the livers to the Queen. The rest they eat for themselves.”

A pebble rolls across the ground, causing the three to whip around. A creature prowls closer, eyes dead set on Thor. Stephen casts Mandala shields at his fists, and the creature's attention diverts to him. He narrows his eyes in thought and dissipates the shields. The creature's attention is back on Thor. Stephen summons a heatless light in his palm, yet the creature’s attention remains on Thor. Stephen huffs a laugh, "They see in infrared!" The creature pounces at Thor, but Stephen uses the Bands of Cyttorak to contain it. It struggles and writhes in its clutches, but almost immediately calms when Stephen ignites flames around it. Thor and Loki circle as Stephen inspects the creature. Now that he had the chance to get a good look at it, he could see how its eyes were similar to that of a fox. "See, Loki? It does good to know the predators in your area. This one evidently seeks heat. That's probably why they sought out the liver. It's typically one of the hottest organs, and it matches with the type of cut we saw in the other victim."

Loki either doesn't hear him or ignores his comment, most likely the latter, and comes closer to the creature. "Varmesøker," Loki announces.

"Bless you," Thor says.

Stephen gives him a questioning look, "Varme-what? Is that what it's called?"

"Norns if I know. I just imagined it would need a name. Varmesøker means 'heat seeker.' Seemed appropriate." Loki explains. Stephen hums with approval while Thor nods.

"Now to address the Varmesøker in the room, what're we going to do with them?" Thor asks.

Stephen starts, "We could-"

"No," Loki interrupts.

"You didn't even let me finish!" Stephen protests.

"You didn't need to. You were going to suggest we lure them all to one place and kill them with the thing they love so much. Fire." Loki says.

Stephen gapes at him for a moment, "First of all, that was a bit morbid. Secondly... yea, kinda."

Loki sighs, "And that's why I said no. Your plans historically aren't the best."

"My plans have defeated the likes of Dormammu and Thanos, for your information. Do you have a better plan?" Stephen raises his voice slightly.

"Umm, guys?" Thor says.

"To lead them away we would need a heat source," Loki argues.

"Good thing we have three right here with us," Stephen counters back.

Loki raises a brow, "you're not suggesting we use ourselves to draw them away?"

"Loki?" Thor alerts.

"While using my magic, I have the highest heat signature. I'm suggesting I lead them away while you figure out where your people are." Stephen explains.

"That would never-" Thor's hand slaps over Loki's mouth.

"They know we're here!" Thor exclaims in a hushed whisper. Sure enough, one of the Varmesøkers is entering the cave while two more climb onto the cliff they are arguing on. Loki pulls the hand away from his face with a glare. All three creatures stare down Thor until their attention is brought to the fire encircling one of their companions.

Stephen whispers, "Thor, blast the floor in the ravine. You need to break it." Before either has the time to question his request, Stephen summons the Flames of the Faltine once again, except this time, he keeps it on his person and takes off running. The Varmesøkers are quick behind him.

"I'm going to figure out where they're storing my people," Loki tells Thor once Stephen's out of earshot then disappears with a gleam of green.

Thor huffs, "Guess I'll just stay here, then."

—————————

Thor observes the floor of the ravine carefully from his perch on the cliff. From what he could tell, the floor was composed of cracked obsidian, so the orange glow beneath it must be magma of some sort. He knew from his studies as a child that obsidian was a type of glass, so theoretically if he were to strike it with lightning, it would completely shatter. His main problem, however, was the Queen and other Varmesøkers still occupying said floor. As he prepared himself to unleash a bolt, he heard snarls and growls from at least three dozen Varmesøkers and running footsteps from a nearby tunnel, "Thor, do it now!" Strange yells.

With that, Thor let lightning surround his body.

—————————

"Thor, do it now!" Stephen yelled at the god. He didn't know why Thor hadn't yet opened the floor to the magma chamber below, but he needed it done now! He kept running through the tunnel, flame in hand, with the Cloak swatting away jaws that got too close. He was rapidly coming up with a plan B, but Thor must've heard his call and Stephen saw how lightning started to surround his body. It crackled around him, and the attention of every single Varmesøker in the area turned to him. Lightning blasted the ground below, and the obsidian fell away into the magma. Stephen ran up to the edge of the cliff edge, increasing the intensity of the ball of fire in hand, and dropped it into the chasm. The Cloak lifted him above the stampede of creatures as they fell after the fire, one after one, and into the firey pits below.

Thor and Loki join him on a nearby cliff edge, watching all of the creatures fall into the magma-like shooting stars. Loki speaks first, “I found a few surviving villagers. I freed a few of the less injured ones to help the others with the promise to return after dealing with the threat.”

“I’ll help you bring the others back,” Thor says. Stephen makes a noise of agreement.

Loki clicks his tongue and sighs, "I suppose that takes care of our murder problem, then. Looks like your plan did work this time, after all, Wizard.”

Stephen chuckles a bit to himself and does jazz hands with little effort, "Abracadabra!"

#mckiwiwrites #stephen strange #doctor strange #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #medical doctor stephen strange #jotunn loki #murder mystery #attempt at humor #alternate universe #post engame #nobody dies #background character death #description of injury #marvel #doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #fanfic #marvel fanfic

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best-fanfic-trope · 1 year

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Round 1: Married Before Dating vs. Nobody Dies AU

Married Before Dating:

Due to hijinks, your characters ended up being married (I suppose this could be literal or a case of “yeah they’re basically married”) before they are even in a relationship! Maybe they never end up in a relationship, maybe this is a way for them to realize their feelings for each other :0

Nobody Dies AU:

Is your favorite character Doomed By The Narrative? Have no fear, with the power of fanworks, you can imagine them happy and healthy 😊

#married before dating #nobody dies #nobody dies au #bracket related #round 1 #round 1 part 3 #fic tropes #fanfic tropes #poll

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years

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Less than Holy

I finally went and did it. After more than two years I went and wrote a fanfiction. This is basically a Fix-It - Everyone lives/nobody dies, not even Pike the dog or Erin’s baby. There are also no vampi- I mean angels and Monsignor Pruitt is actually in a hospital on the mainland and not father Paul Hill at all.

Less than Holy - 7.6K

Of all the people you would expect to fall for, the priest was the absolute last one of them.

You were a promising young writer, already having published a few books, the last one being a bestseller in the US. And while your name could be seen in many bookshops around English speaking countries and some foreign ones, your face was a mystery to the public. Which suited you, really. Your favorite genre to write was supernatural horror. Ever since you were a little girl, there was just something thrilling about darkness and what may lurk within. You grew up passionately reading up on Ed and Lorraine Warren's supernatural cases, fell asleep to the classic stories by Mary Shelley and Sheridan Le Fanu, and watched the newest flicks in cinemas with bated breath and a content feeling.

That's how you ended up on Crockett Island. Originally, you were only staying there in order to write your latest book; it was a story about a small, lonely fishing town, just like this one. Strange, horrifying monsters from deep waters would start targeting poor unsuspecting people from the island, and pull them down from their boats and dinghies and into the water below. The only people who could stop it were a couple of teens. You were really trying to appeal to a younger audience too with this book. In order to better capture the atmosphere and characters in your story, you decided to find a place like the one in your book where you could stay while working on it - and there it was.

Crockett Island.

Tiny. Quiet. Only several dozen people lived there and everyone was special in their own way. At first, you were renting a small house. The people who used to live there had moved to the mainland some time prior; as did many others after the faithful spill some years ago. That's how you actually found out about Crockett. An ad in a local newspaper on the mainland later, and this really nice couple was offering you their house on Crockett for a very reasonable rent.

The first few months were strange. Some citizens of Crockett observed you with distrust and apprehension, others were way more curious and friendly. Annie Flynn was among the latter group. Not two days after your arrival were you sitting in the Flynn family home, sharing dinner with their family of three. Four, said Annie. Her oldest son was currently off island, she said. It would take you some more time to find out that he's currently serving a sentence for manslaughter while DUI. You weren't one to judge. God knows you too participated in some wild parties and made a lot of bad decisions. Not ones quite so serious, true, but that didn't matter to you. You've grown quite close to the Flynn family over time. Also to the Scarboroughs, the Gunnings and the new sheriff and his son.

Sheriff Hassan, just like you, was a newcomer to the island, and despite having come before you did, he seemed to have it even harder because of his religious beliefs. It took you no time at all to figure out that the folk on Crockett Island were quite religious and many of them attended the Sunday mass in the church of St. Patrick. Having not grown up in a religious household, everything you knew about religions was from what you've studied yourself, and while you didn't necessarily affiliate yourself with any of them, you did believe in some kind of higher power.

Annie Flynn once invited you to tag along for the Sunday mass and you had agreed. The parish priest, Monsignor John Pruitt, was an older gentleman. His years were visibly catching up to him, and it was rather visible even to the untrained eye. While he was obviously absolutely devoted to his faith and had great knowledge of the holy book, his mind seemed to be wandering elsewhere from time to time. Even so, you enjoyed listening to his sermon, and it was obvious that he was well beloved by his flock. Unfortunately, this is where you finally came face to face with one not so lovely citizen of Crockett Island.

Miss Beverly Keane. Just the look she gave you as she noticed you among the crowd in front of the church. "So, you must be the outsider, then," she began, a thin, tense smile on her lips, but not within her eyes, "Annie Flynn's told me about you, of course. However, pardon me, if I'm mistaken, but you've been here for a few weeks now haven't you? This is the first time I see you here." You didn't like her expression one bit. Smug and self-righteous, as if she caught you in a lie. You suddenly felt like you've done something bad, and she was about to mock you for it and threaten to tell your parents. A stupid thought, really, but she did make you feel this way. "I'm not exactly a catholic. I'm not exactly anything either," you admitted honestly. You had no reason to lie. "But I'm open minded and I did read the Bible. I wanted to hear the sermon and also figured that this church," you motioned with your left hand, "is kind of the centre point for the island, isn't it. Since I'll be staying for a while, I thought I could perhaps meet the folk around here." The look on her face told you she wanted to retort with something, but she only took on the previous tense smile and said the important thing is that you're here now.

And then Erin came.

Following old Mrs. Greene's (whom you didn't know very well) passing, her daughter Erin, who's been living off the island for years now, came to take care of her mother's funeral and ultimately decided to stay. You actually met her on the ferry as you were coming back from a trip on the mainland. You looked at her and she looked at you and you finally recognised you didn't recognise each other at all. And you started talking.

Since then, you stopped counting your days on the island. Your book was long since finished and published, yet you stayed. The family whose house you've been renting contacted you about possibly buying in from them, for a fair price. And you said yes. Your family offered to have the rest of your possessions delivered to Crockett. And you said yes. Erin asked you to come with her to every Sunday mass. And you said yes. For some reason, this small, sparsely populated town has started to feel like home. Things weren't perfect, but they were fine. Life was slow and quiet. The islanders warmed up to you, little by little, until you were one of their own. Their neighbour. And you found you could no longer imagine waking up and not smelling the crisp salty sea air. And life was fine.

---

"Sunday's tomorrow," said Erin off-handedly, folding some laundry on her dining table. You murmured in agreement, mostly just paying attention to the words you wrote on your laptop, and the mug of tea in your hand. It's become so normal. You and Erin would be at your or her place, talking, playing games, watching films, or just doing your own activities in each other's presence. "Monsignor Pruitt will be back," offered Erin again. You raised your eyes from the screen: "He made it back safe, then?" That made Erin pause. "Actually," she breathed in, "I don't know. Nobody's seen him yet, really. And, I mean, Bev's been putting welcome messages on the church side, and she gave him instructions and what not...Yeah, he'll be back."

You weren't quite so sure. The old man seemed rather confused when you first came. Months later, his health only worsened. You were in doubt that the trip to holy lands was the right call. While still not outright religious, you have grown fond of the monsignor, just as you have grown fond of everyone else, and you were rather worried about him the entire duration of his expedition.

The next day, you sat with Erin in your usual pew at Saint Patrick's. You saw her as she smiled at a boy whom you haven't seen before, sitting in a pew with Annie and Ed Flynn, but before you could ask her about him, the mass had begun. The churchgoers rose and opened their hymnals. You sang with them. Then, there was a strange moment. It seemed to you that some of the people's singing hitched, before returning to normal, while others stopped singing all together. You turned your head in curiosity and found yourself momentarily mute as well. Walking in a golden chasuble behind Warren Flynn and a boy named Ooker wasn't the old Monsignor Pruitt. Instead there was a total stranger. Tall and lean, with thick, wavy jet black hair, thick eyebrows, large dark eyes and, what you thought were, pretty lips. He too sang and his voice, rich and soulful, mesmerised you.

The stranger bowed down before the altar and took his stand behind it, facing his flock. You sat down. He introduced himself as Father Paul Hill and explained that Monsignor John Pruitt has fallen ill on his trip and won't be returning for the time being. He begins his sermon. You had quite enjoyed going to mass before, despite your near-atheism, and you liked the hymns and you liked hearing Monsignor Pruitt talk. But when Paul started talking, it felt like a fire had suddenly settled within your core. No, not a fire, a light. A gentle light emanating a pleasant warmth, definitely not a scorching, destructive fire. Monsignor Pruitt was devoted, and so was Father Paul, but Paul's young energy, and his passion for the word of god made Sunday mass seem like a performance, like an unreachable piece of art. You sat there, drinking in his every word and found yourself wanting to believe them. Wanting to believe him. Once everyone started getting up and lining up for communion, you sat behind, like you always did. Only this time, you weren't alone. The boy you saw earlier still sat in his pew as well. When everyone received their wafer and a sip of wine, they slowly started to stream out of the church. You were still so flabbergasted and amazed by Father Paul's sermon, you were actually one of the last ones to leave. From the church doors you saw Erin wink at you before she walked slowly away with the boy from earlier.

Before you could make your way home too however, a figure stepped in front of you. "You must be (F/N) (L/N). Monsignor Pruitt mentioned you do not take communion," said Father Paul warmly. You had to look up at him a bit, as he really was a tall man. There was a friendly smile on his face and his eyes were kind and inviting. So very unlike Bev Keane's upon your first interaction with her. You gazed into the priest's dark orbs and felt like you've known him your entire life, and like he knew you too. You felt instantly at ease, instantly trusting. "You see, I'm not a catholic. Not really. I'm not even baptised. It wouldn't be right." Father Paul smiles some more and nods in understanding. "Well, never too late to become one," you chuckle, "so I can believe you'll be honest with me and tell me what you, as a 'non-catholic' thought of my sermon?" The way he looks at you, keeping eye contact, with an air of confidence, but with no smugness or conceit, it makes you nearly instantly fond of him. You think for a moment, whether you should praise him for his skill, or play it cool and nonchalant. As always, you decided that honesty is key. "I was amazed," you said seriously, reciprocating his eye contact, "to be honest, I think many people genuinely believe in God thanks to their pastor. And you, um," you felt yourself blushing a bit and instinctively cast your eyes down, "I think you're very convincing." His smile faltered for the tiniest of moments and a strange look appeared in his eyes, before he grinned at you once more, and this time it was positively radiant, like a while of sunshine on a rainy day. "Convinced you, then?" he asks, his voice teasing, nearly mischievous. You couldn't keep yourself from smiling too, slightly coyly: "Oh, I don't know. I'll see next Sunday." You bid your farewell to Father Paul and went home. You'd deny it to anyone, but there was a bit of a pep in your step.

---

The Crock Pot Luck. Despite the town's small population, the spring festival was really something else.

It was Ash Wednesday and Erin made you get your blessing and a sooty cross from Father Paul. You stood before him, closer than before and with your neck craned up more. Standing so close, you admired just how handsome he is, all soft lines and smouldering eyes. The corners of his lips twitched when he saw you. "Remember, (F/N), you are dust, and to dust you shall return" he spoke softly as he dipped his thumb into a bowl in his other hand which contained the ashes. He then brought his right hand up and very gently drew a cross on your forehead: "Bless you, my child."

So now you were sitting with Erin at a bench, listening to the live music, chatting amicably and people-watching. Since Erin was pregnant, she was nursing a lemonade with a paper straw and you treated yourself to a glass of wine you traded for your drink ticket. It was sunny and very mild for the beginning of spring, and you already took your jacket off and were only sitting in a light jumper. Erin was looking to the side of you. You gazed in the same direction and saw Father Paul and Riley Flynn talking on a bench near the edge of the festival. Erin's told you all about Riley after the first mass with Father Paul and actually introduced you to him. He was a nice guy, obviously guilt-ridden with what he's done and a bit unwell. However, it seemed that spending time in Erin's company is doing him good. "You should talk to him," you offered to Erin. She lifted her eyebrows questioningly. "You were, like, childhood sweethearts, weren't you. I mean, I can't tell you what to do, but I'm just saying it's obvious he still fancies you." She snorted and shook her head at you. After a moment she sighed and got up: "Well, since neither of us is drinking, I think I'm gonna treat him to a coffee then." You just winked at her and remained sitting. A short while later, the brown haired girl had a cup of coffee in each hand and was on her way to Riley and Father Paul.

You meanwhile returned to people watching. You took in the kids playing bean bag toss nearby and the good Doctor Gunning talking quietly to a lovely woman you hadn't seen before. Some people were dancing in front of the podium. "Is this seat free?" sounded behind you. You didn't even need to turn around, having recognised the priest's voice immediately. Instead you just smiled into your empty glass: "But of course, father, be my guest." And so he did. You grinned at him and noticed he brought two glasses of wine with him. Upon your questioning look, he offered: "I thought it an appropriate apology, seeing as I have pulled you out of your thoughts." He slid one of the glasses your way. As your own wine had long since disappeared, you gracefully accepted. The next few minutes you spent in friendly, comfortable silence, looking around, enjoying the day.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Joe Collie. He was, put mildly, not exactly in favour of the townspeople. Erin's told you about the hunting accident that put poor Leeza Scarborough in a wheelchair most likely for the rest of her life. You personally only talked to Joe a few times. He was nearly always already drunk, or just woke up after a night of drinking. While irresponsible and a slave to his addiction, the man genuinely didn't seem to a have malicious or cruel bone in his body. He went everywhere with his pupper, Pike. Pike was a sweet dog, very large, but amazingly cuddly and friendly, you slipped some treats his way every once in a while. Now it seemed though that somebody else was intent on feeding the mutt. Beverly Keane laid down a hot dog in front of him and walked away rather swiftly. You grew anxious. If there was a person on this island who hated this dog, it was Bev Keane and while not happy about the thought, you had serious doubts that the hot dog was some sort of peace offering. Without a word you rose and half walked, half ran to Pike, snatching the food away before he could as much as lick it. Pike whined unhappily and barked at you, which made Joe Collie turn around to look. "Hey, hey! What the fuck gives?" he growled at you, undecided between defensive and aggressive. You looked at him, the hot dog in your hand just out of Pike's reach with Pike himself whining and looking at you pleadingly. "You should be more careful. Don't let your dog eat something he shouldn't," with that you turned around, tossed the hot dog into a rubbish bin and went back to your seat.

"What was that supposed to mean?" asked Father Paul once you sat down again. You took a sip of your wine and looked around anxiously. "It's just that-" you scratched your neck, "look, I could be very very wrong and I'm not accusing anyone of anything, but," deep breath, "I saw Bev give Pike a hot dog. And she hates Pike, she tried to get Sheriff Hassan to put him down, just for barking at her. And Erin saw her in school yesterday, in the supply cabinet, fiddling with an entire canistre of poison. I just, I'd rather be safe than sorry." You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment and noticed several people staring at you. There were Erin and Riley, their faces questioning and curious, Joe Collie (who has thankfully brought Pike close to him since then) looked confused and apprehensive, and last but not least; Bev Keane, who looked sour and right now probably wishing you ate that hot dog instead. Father Paul cleared his throat to get your attention: "Well, I'm sure it was nothing...But nevertheless, it's very Christian of you to look out for your neighbours like this." You gave him a small smile which he mirrored with his own, before he began speaking again: "Anyway, about Christianity-" you quietly groaned and rolled your eyes, but kept on smiling and listening.

You and Father Paul had talked late into the evening. It had started as a friendly discussion about religion and Christianity, slowly progressed to getting to know each other and stories of your lives before coming to Crockett Island, before finally becoming a pleasant banter about everything and nothing. The band has long since abandoned the stage, people had packed up the tents and most of those few who remained were currently sitting around a bonfire, talking, singing, or just relaxing. Darkness has fallen and enveloped you and Father Paul like a comforting blanket. You could barely see his face, the only light sources being the bonfire some 60 feet away and a lone street light even farther. A nice feeling of fatigue has started to come over you and you barely stifled a yawn. Father Paul noticed and even in the dim light you could see the white of his teeth flash in a grin. "I can't see my watches, but I'm going to guess it's late," he said with an amused tone. You fished out your phone out of the pocket of your jacket, which you put back on when the temperature dropped with the oncoming night, and glanced at the screen. You immediately regretted it, as you had kept the brightness on 100% and felt like your retina was about to burn to ashes. "It's not even that late, to be honest," you said, trying to cover up another yawn fighting its way through you, "just after half past nine. But I didn't get much sleep yesterday, so I'm a bit tired." You put your phone back into your pocket. Father Hill stood up and reached out a hand to you. You looked at him questioningly. "I'll walk you home," he clarified. You've been living on Crocket Island for quite some time, walked the entire place (including the cat filled Uppards) many times and you were pretty sure you could find your way home blindfolded. Not to mention it's perfectly safe for a woman to walk home alone at night here.

And yet.

And yet you took the Father's offered hand and let him pull you to your feet. He then repositioned your hand to his right arm and started walking. "My, my, father, who knew priests were such gentlemen?" you teased him softly but let him walk you anyway. Truth be told, it felt nice to be in the centre of attention of such a handsome man. 'The handsome man is a priest' spoke a guilty voice in your head, but you managed to quiet it down. You weren't doing anything bad, therefore you had no reason to feel guilty. A friendly priest was simply escorting you home to make sure you're safe from the dangers of... um, stray cats, you supposed. "I'd simply hate for you to fall asleep somewhere on your way because I kept you so long." Or that, that works too, you thought to yourself and chuckled and he followed suit.

When you reached your front door, you let go of his arm to find your keys. You learnt that many people on the island don't lock their homes, even if they're asleep or not present, and while the safety of the island was one of the reasons you stayed, you still didn't feel comfortable just leaving your door unlocked. Finally you found your keys and opened the door. "Would you," you began, turning back around to face Paul, "would you like something, like a cup of tea, or a cocoa?" Father Paul smiled and you could see him better now since you were standing closer to a street lamp. "Are you not tired anymore?" he teased. "Oh, I am, a bit, but you're obviously not," you countered in the same tone, "so you can have a cuppa and go home afterwards and I'll just pass out on the couch." Father Paul laughed earnestly at that and it was one of the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard. One of the prettiest sights too. "You're very kind, and I'll surely take you up on that offer sometime, but tonight I'll leave you to get your beauty sleep," he said with that same kind and honest smile you were sure he probably got patented and turned to leave. Before he did though, he couldn't quite stop himself from one last retort: "I'll see you in mass on Sunday. Let's see about that convincing." Wink. He just winked at you. You couldn't help but giggle and roll your eyes: "Good night, father," you said cheekily as you retreated into your house and shut the door.

As you set about your evening routine, you couldn't stop thinking about him. True, your mind was on other things too, like Erin and Riley's rediscovered affection, poor Leeza in her wheelchair, and the (in your eyes) very real danger of Bev Keane almost killing Joe Collie's dog. But everytime your mind came back to him. You thought about his eyes, how they looked at every stage of the sunset and how the light in them seemed to shine even after the sun submerged itself below the horizon completely. And you thought about his voice, how it always slightly changed with the matter discussed, from serious and intense, to light and amused. And right before you drifted off to sleep you allowed yourself to think of the priest's pretty, kissable lips. Just for that tiny little moment.

---

You probably just became religious.

All you could do was gawk like a demented owl as Leeza Scarborough took a step after step towards Father Paul to get her communion. Your expression wasn't that different from other people in the church. Many had their mouths open in which would in any other situation be a hilarious way. Some people were tearing up. Some were praying hard. Leeza's parents, Wade and Dolly were ugly sobbing and covering their mouths. Leeza then turned around to face everyone. You've never seen anyone's face containing so many emotions at once. Shock and disbelief soon turned to a look of ecstasy, so wild and raw and unhinged, just looking at her you wanted to scream and laugh and cry in manic happiness. For the first time in your life, you folded your hands together, bent down slightly and started praying. You thanked God, thanked him for letting Leeza walk again, thanked him for showing the young girl his mercy and humbly asked that he keep her healthy. After your quiet 'Amen' you felt another hand enveloping yours. It was Erin. She took you hand in hers and held it tight, looked at you with tears in her eyes and without a word the two of you embraced hard. She then wiped her other hand over her face to clean off the few tears that escaped. The mass ended soon afterwards. The Scarboroughs thanked Father Paul profusely, before excusing themselves in order to visit Dr Gunning about their daughter's miraculous healing. Erin and Riley left together once more and many others walked away in groups, talking loudly and praying among themselves. Just like after the first mass with Father Paul, you were bewildered and stayed behind.

"If you don't believe in God after this, I'm not sure what else you want," sounded an acerbic voice from somewhere to the side. Turning your head, you saw Bev Keane. You hadn't spoken to her at all after Crock Pot Luck and when she tried to approach you, you hurriedly made yourself look busy or caught in a conversation with someone else. It wasn't strange for you to chat up Sheriff Hassan amicably for quite a while, but this one particular while was so long, even he noticed. After Bev got tired of waiting and left, you awkwardly explained your predicament and he immediately nodded his head in understanding. Right now, though, there was really nobody to save you from this woman, and you couldn't exactly manifest a hammer and nails out of thin air to tell her you were busy, what, reinforcing the church walls?

So you accepted your fate, stood up from the pew and went to face her straight on, feeling like a knight about to fight a dragon. She observed you coldly, like usual, but when you looked into her eyes, you realised something. She knew. She knew you saw her giving Pike the hot dog. And in that moment, you also knew that you were right to step in. "Oh, but I never said I didn't believe in God," you said softly, trying to appear as calm and polite as you could, "I just said I'm not Catholic, that I don't have a religion." That seemed to take the wind out of her sails, but she recovered quickly: "Well then, maybe you'll reconsider. You're not really local, so you wouldn't know, but religion is a big part of this community. You see, you come here every Sunday, accept blessings and get to experience God's miracles right before your eyes and still you won't join us,won't commit yourself? Won't give anything back to the community?" Now was your turn to shut up and stare at her, disbelief fetched on your face. "What are you saying?" you asked quietly. Bev smiled at you, a mean smile: "I'm only saying, that if you really do plan on, well, staying here, on this island, the very least you could do is try to fit in and become a part of this community, not just leech on it."

You could feel tears starting to form in your eyes. You knew she was a cruel woman, that she was trying to purposely hurt you, but a small voice inside your head started asking the little nasty questions anyway. 'Am I really leeching on these people?', 'Should I just go and become a catholic? Will I be driven out if I won't?', 'Am I not welcomed here anymore? Should I stop going here?' You tried to will yourself, you tried to be strong, to gather the courage to tell her off, but a single tear had already rolled over the edge and landed on your cheek, slowly running down all the way to your chin and then falling down onto the wooden floor of Saint Patrick's it fell.

"That's enough," said a different voice, one that made you quickly wipe the tear track off your cheek with the sleeve of your jumper and made Bev Keane freeze like a statue. A gentle hand landed on your right shoulder and a comforting warmth settled on your left side as Father Paul appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to your rescue. "Beverly, this is the house of God," he said, and while he was as soft-spoken as he always is, there was a stern and cold undertone in his rich voice, "The doors are always open just as the gates are always open, to anyone and everyone who comes with peace and humility. One's religion is one's own choice and I am more than happy to interpret from the Bible to all, be they Catholic or not." Bev just stared at him, her expression that of a child who knew they were caught doing something bad, but weren't feeling guilty about it. "I didn't mean anything by it," she said in the most sickeningly sweet voice and smiled, "I was only imploring our friend to consider her decisions. Father, (F/N) (L/N)." And with that she'd spun on her heel and left.

Father Paul's arm was still wrapped gently around your shoulders. You stood, your look transfixed to the ground where your tear fell and you felt terribly tiny. Just fifteen minutes ago, you felt over the moon with happiness and gratefulness for little Leeza and now you just wanted to go home, bury yourself under pillows and blankets and never leave the house again. "Come on," said Father Paul, the coldness in his voice gone and replaced with comfort, "let's get you some tea." He led you out the back of the church, still with his arm around you, and you let him. Before you knew it, you were at the rectory and he opened the door. His home was humble, there was a small sofa on the left of the door sat in front of an old telly. On the right was a desk and several chairs. Behind them stood a tall bookshelf filled with books. On the far left side was a kitchen with the basic necessities, a stove with an oven, a sink, and an old-timey refrigerator. To the back of the room were doors leading to Father Paul's bedroom. You presumed the bathroom was somewhere in the back.

Father Paul sat you down onto the tiny sofa and set about making you a cup of tea. You sat quietly for a while, just staring into space. “Am I really just leeching off these people?” you couldn’t stop yourself from saying out loud. The priest ceased his movement just as he was about to put the kettle on. After a second or two, he finally fired the stove up and put the kettle down. “No,” he said and came slowly into your view. Father Paul, young, fit, and already beloved and respected by his congregation, got to his knee in front of you and grasped your hands, “No, you’re not. You came to an island which most people leave and decided to stay. You care about these people, you try to help them as best as you can and you are actively trying to be one of them. And they see it. They realise it. And even if you never become religious, if you never come to get your holy communion, you’ll always have your place here. On this island, with these people, in this church. So don’t let what Bev says get to you, okay?” New tears were threatening to spill as you listened to Father Paul. You felt a soft finger underneath your chin and you looked up into the pastor’s soft, gentle eyes. And when you did, he gave you the kindest smile yet. And even as you did let the tears fall freely, you smiled right back at him.

—

It became something of a habit. At least twice a week you and Father Paul would meet outside of church, either at your home or the rectory, for a cup of tea and a chat. Ever since the little incident with Bev, you found that you could talk more freely with him. About everything, really. You talked some more about religion and Catholicism and he explained to you how one who wasn't born into a catholic family and baptised even becomes a catholic. Seeing as you had no knowledge about actually entering the church, your brain spun from all the information rather quickly. That some people can spend whole years as catechumens, before they're actually ready to be baptised and that the rite of election usually starts on the first Sunday of lent. The actual initiation to catholic church then takes place on Easter vigil. It was a lot to take in, but Father Paul remained forever patient, and always willing to explain.

You talked about many other things too. You learned some time ago that he had taken it upon himself to lead a local AA group, so that Riley didn't need to waste the entire day away just to go to and from the mainland. Paul came around one evening looking very happy and proud. He told you about Joe Collie, whom Leeza Scarborough forgave the bizarre 'hunting' accident and who in turn decided to give up drinking. You enthusiastically listened to him talk about homilies he was preparing and the awaited Easter vigil. He even shared some not so public stories, like how he found Warren Flynn secretly snogging Leeza behind the church after one of the masses, or how he heard Erin pray for the health of her baby and had a hard time keeping from chuckling as he overheard her whisper 'Oh, and please let it be a girl, amen' before she ran out of the church. You in turn told him about a new book you were working on, or about your attempts at drawing and painting. You once invited him out for a walk through the small forest behind the church and he happily accepted. And that became a habit too.

However, with every day, every cup of tea, every walk and every Sunday mass, it became more and more difficult for you to be in Paul's almost saintly presence and stop yourself from thinking positively sinful thoughts. More and more you find yourself looking at his beautiful lips, thinking how velvety soft they must be and how sweet they must taste. When he puts his large gentle hand on the small of your back, you find yourself wishing he'd take your face in his hands, or run his elegant fingers through your hair. When he wraps an arm around your shoulders amicably, all you see in your mind's eye are his long, strong arms enveloping you in their heat and safety until you know nothing else. And when he speaks, you imagine lying with him, your head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his voice, as he talks to you softly. Not to mention the even more wickedly sinful impure thoughts. All in all, you found yourself desperately, maddly and absolutely in love with your friend, who just so happens to be a catholic priest.

As Easter vigil approached, it became even harder, as Paul seemed to always find a reason to touch you. Brushing his fingers along yours as he was handing you your tea, or laying his hand on yours after you had made him laugh. When on a walk, he'd put his hand on your back more often than not and once, when he discovered a lovely place that overlooked the entire island, he actually led you there by hand, linking your fingers together. You decided you couldn't live like this anymore. To know you love someone and feel them so close to you, only to have them taken away again as reality kicks in feels like a heartbreak every time. To love someone as a friend and needing to have constant self control over yourself, else you let your instincts take over and risk driving the person away is exhausting. And honestly, you weren't even sure what was worse. When Paul once told you 'I'm so glad you're here with me' with that smile of his and the ever so kind and gentle look in his eyes, you wanted to tell him. You wanted to kiss him, to fly into his arms and never leave them and hating yourself for the very thought. And as much as he was fond of you, you knew that he would never leave his flock, wouldn't turn his back to his god for an earthly temptation, and therefore you would never actually know what it was like to kiss him.

Some people took notice of your rotten mood whenever you came down from the high you got when in his presence. Annie tried to cheer you up by her cooking, for which you were eternally grateful, but it didn't help. Sheriff Hassan tried to lift your spirits by telling your far fetched and utterly ridiculous stories from his time as a policeman. You did laugh at all of them, but it didn't help. You could spend hours and hours playing with Pike, but it would never be enough. Erin was the only one who actually addressed the issue openly, pleading with you to tell her what is actually wrong. And, for some bizarre reason, you actually did. You told her about your infatuation with Father Paul and how much he means to you not only as a priest and a friend, but also as a man. Erin listened. She didn't judge you and she didn't mock you. She didn't call you a sinner and she didn't even chastise you. After what felt like hours of you spilling all of your frustration with your predicament, she finally spoke: "You should tell him." "What?" you sputtered, bewildered. "You heard me," she said, "you should tell him. If anything, you'll get it out of your system. Maybe it'll get better." You sat down heavily on her couch and put your head in your hands. You sighed and muttered into your palms. "What was that?" said Erin, genuinely not having understood you. You looked up at her, miserably: "What if he hates me?" You honestly felt like crying, but strangely dull at the same time. "He could never hate you. You're probably his most favourite person on this island, if all the little forest dates are anything to go by," Erin said, amused. You however felt there was nothing humorous about your situation and only covered your face again. "He won't hate you. Just tell him. Maybe you'll even be surprised." Those were words you'd desperately wanted to believe, but found it difficult to. "He's a priest, Erin. After Leeza, nearly the entire island attends his mass. I even saw Joe hanging around at the last one… There's no way… To be honest I-" you stopped for a moment, "I think it might be better if I left."

Neither of you said anything for the longest time. You were softly weeping into your hands while Erin stared at the back of your head in disbelief. "You… You would actually leave? You'd actually leave this all behind?" she was saying as if it was physically impossible to imagine such a thing, "you would leave me and the little one? You would just pack up and leave your home, your neighbours, even after they finally accepted you as one of their own? I'm sorry (Y/N), but that's bullshit!" You winced at the shrill of her voice. "That's bullshit and you know it. Come on," her voice went down again as she noticed your shoulders shake. Gently she rubbed circles into your back before taking a hold of your wrists with her free hand and pulling them away from your face. "Do you mean that?" she then asked, her voice quiet and soft now, "would you actually leave me here all on my own, the only sane woman?" Through teary eyes you looked at her and truthfully admitted: "I would never leave you behind." Erin pulled you close, put your head on her shoulder and made small shushing noises as you gradually calmed down. "I'll tell him," you promised then, "after the Easter vigil."

—

The Easter vigil in Saint Patrick's was a beautiful thing to experience. The entire island, including you, walked to the church using candles to light your way while singing hymns. You felt so entirely light as you walked next to the Scarboroughs and the Flynns. You sang too, and you let your heart replace your brain momentarily, just so you could enjoy the celebration. You let the amazing blessed things fall on your shoulders at once. The Flynn family and their reconciliation, the Scarboroughs and their miracle, Erin and her little one, Joe Collie and his ultimate sign to be a better man. All at once you felt the goodness. And it nearly brought a tear to your eye. Good things are still happening and there are good people to experience them. But this all faded as you laid your eyes on Father Paul. He read from the old books up until the crucifiction of Christ, his death and his revival. And while you deeply enjoyed hearing him talk, you suddenly felt like there was a stone blocking your airway. And you felt like it would suffocate you surely, until-

"So how's that for convincing?" asked Father Paul. All people present were slowly leaving the church. Erin looked at you once, gave you a nod, and then left with Riley. "Listen, um," you looked up at him, and your desperation was probably very visible in your eyes, for his entire focus shifted to you, "I need to talk to you. Privately."

Father Paul just nodded and took your hand once more. He didn't let go until you were in the rectory, sat on his bed for some reason. Only then did he ask what's on your mind. It was so quick you hadn't even been able to build your defenses,or make any sort of back up plan, etc. You just decided to speak.

"I can't become a catholic," you blurted out, feeling a bit sick to your stomach. "Oh," said Father Paul immediately, "why not?" "Because I'm sinning right now, father…" "Why is that?" said Father Paul, his cool facade melting ever so slowly. "Because I'm wanting, father. Because I'm lusting. I'm lusting after a man of the cloth and I feel like I love him. I'm a sinner, because I wish to feel his warmth close to me and I wish to be on his mind always. I want him to kiss me senseless and make me his. Forgive me father, for I have sinned and I am sinning as we speak." You caught your breath finally and looked into Father Paul's eyes. They were nearly unreadable to you, but you saw something within them anyway. A hunger. And when you looked a little closer, you saw there was something you could only call love too.

Father Paul Hill slowly wrapped his arms around you and pressed his soft lips upon yours. And for a little while you felt like you were lost. Lost in the divine sensation of sweet soft lips melting against your own. Your fingers tangled into his hair and he grabbed you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive. You moaned softly as he pulled you into his lap. Being so close to him, your entire brain shut down and you only felt the sensations. The sensation of him kissing up and down your neck, of his arms linking around you so tightly, of teeth nibbling on each inch of exposed skin. You were so lost in pleasure and adoration you almost missed the one sentence you wished to hear, but never thought you actually would. "I love you," sighed Father Paul inbetween kisses. You gasped, but recovered very quickly and pulled him tighter into you. Gently, you grasped at his raven locks and made him look at your face; in your eyes. "I love you too," you replied and pulled him close once more. So forbidden and yet so right, you had no idea what would happen next. One thing you did know though; as long as you and Father Paul laid upon his bed, your lips red and swollen from kissing and your hearts light and filled with love - Life is going to be just fine.

I hope you liked it. I’ll be a happy little sucker if you tell me whatcha think or check this story out on AO3 thank xx

#midnight mass #fanfiction #father paul hill #father paul #father paul x reader #father paul/reader #i love you hamish linklater #erin greene #riley flynn #fluff #no smut #sfw #everyone lives au #nobody dies #fix-it #no vampires au #midnight mass fanfiction

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krtrs · 2 years

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i love you Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies. i love you Canon Divergence. i love you Fix-It. i love you Tooth-Rotting Fluff. i love you Idiots in Love. i love you Requited Love. i love you Mutual Pining.

#yes this is abt steve and eddie from stranger things leave me alone #karter speaks #everyone lives #nobody dies #canon divergence #fix it #tooth rotting fluff #idiots in love #requited love #mutual pining #ao3 tags

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autobots-and-their-crazy-kids · 2 years

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What if TFA Ultra Magnus was still in a coma and Optimus was the one temporarily put in charge, instead of Sentinel?

What if Optimus made the captured Decepticons go through therapy as part of their punishment?

What if Optimus went to therapy as well, making Sentinel and Blackarachnia join him, so they can both become better people?

#optimus #ultra magnus #sentinel #blackarachnia #elita #megatron #starscream #tfa #transformers animated #nobody dies #so starscream suffers the therapy with megatron #wasp desperately needs some therapy #rung

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the-kittens-of-vol-tron · 2 years

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Lance earning Krolia's approval for Keith?? Mayhaps?? 👀

i RAN to write this

Thank you sm

I kinda went on my own side tangent I hope you like it :0

Also I wrote this as established klance

Trigger Warnings: Injuries, mention of blood

-----

Lance's eyes widen at the galran standing in front of them. Standing next to Keith.

"Everyone, this is Krolia. She's my mom." Keith shifted a bit under everyone's gaze and Lance felt his mouth go dry. Everyone began introductions, Shiro shaking her hand firmly. She seemed excited to meet him; no doubt Keith had told her all about him. The mentoring he did, how he took Keith under his wing, how he was basically his brother now.

Lance found himself shifting his weight between his feet, waiting for her to finally get to him. His hands felt sweaty under his gloves and he kept swallowing around the dryness in his throat.

Saying that Lance was scared to meet Krolia was an understatement; he was petrified. Due to how their life was playing out he didn't think meeting his boyfriend's mom was something he had to worry about. He didn't even have time to prepare himself.

She turned to face him finally, her expression a bit unreadable. "Mom, this is Lance. My boyfriend."

Lance extended his hand, "nice to meet you," he knew he sounded frazzled. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, but he pushed them all aside.

Why couldn't this have happened in private? Where his biggest worry was if his shirt was buttoned right and his hair looked nice. In a different reality, they would be on Earth, meeting at a slightly out-of-budget restaurant. Lance would sit next to Keith, holding his hand under the table while Krolia asked him questions about his hobbies and future goals.

But this wasn't that reality and he was meeting her in his paladin gear, his hair greasy with sweat, clingy to his forehead, and sticking up in multiple directions. He knew there was some dirt on his face, they just got back from a tough mission.

She grabbed his hand with more force than he anticipated. It wasn't enough to hurt him but enough to show that she could hurt him if she wanted.

"Nice to meet you, Lance. It's good to have a face to the name." She dropped his hand, crossing her arms, her eyes scanning him up and down. "Keith has told me a lot about you."

"Awe Keith, were you gushing about me?" Lance elbowed Keith from where he stood next to him.

Keith didn't respond, just slipped his hand into Lance's.

Krolia watched the engagement between the two and gave what appeared to be a stiff smile. "Well, I look forward to meeting you a bit better," she looked at everyone else. "All of you."

Getting to know Krolia was more intimidating than Lance expected. He had met some of his ex's parents before but those were quick moments. Picking a girl up before prom, getting a ride from a boy's dad, simple meetings. And never while he was dating someone he actually saw a future with. Someone who he laid awake at night thinking about proposing to.

He had moments where it was just the two of them. She was enjoying a cup of what Lance dubbed "Space Tea" and Lance would stumble in looking for some breakfast. Instead of taking the moment to impress her, he who do a 180 and leave as fast as he could.

He needed to impress her, he wanted to make her know that he was worthy of being with her son. But she always had that emotionless face around him. A face he couldn't decipher if she was happy with him or wanted him out of his son's life.

"I'm telling you, babe, she doesn't like me." Lance paced in front of the bed in their shared room. His fingers intertwined in his hair.

Keith watched his movement from their bed, Kosmo sitting next to him fast asleep.

"Lance, she doesn't hate you."

He paused his pacing for a moment. "I said doesn't like. You said doesn't hate. Ohmygod she doesn't like me," he borderline melted into the floor, his body rocking back and forth from where he sat.

Keith slid off the bed and walked over to him, slinking down next to him. "Come here," he opened his arms and let his boyfriend crawl into his lap. He wrapped his arms around him and Lance buried his face into his neck.

"I don't think my mom knows what to think of you. She still getting to know me and now I'm immediately introducing her to my boyfriend. I think it's just a lot for her to take in." Keith planted a kiss on Lance's shoulder.

Lance nodded, "I want her to like me."

"Hey," Keith pulled back as far as he could from where he sat against the bed. "Look at me."

Lance forced himself to sit up, meeting Keith's galaxy's eyes.

"I like you okay? You're who I want to be with. I fell in love with you. Through all your terrible jokes,"

Lance laughed.

Keith smiled, "you witty comebacks, you can come up with a plan on the fly, and there is just so much I love about you I could sit here all night as still not have enough time."

Lance wiped his eyes. "I guess so."

Keith frowned, "would I lie to you?"

"No."

"Okay. I love you and I want my mom in my life but if she doesn't want you then," he pulled Lance in for another tight hug. "I've lived this long without her."

Lance nodded, he needed to make sure she liked him no matter what.

It was a slow process, mostly because Lance couldn't bring himself to ever have a conversation with just them. Even with the group, he still didn't speak unless spoken to.

"Lance."

He froze in his tracks, turning around slowly to see Krolia standing at the end of the hallway he had just come from. "Oh, h-hey Krolia. What's up?" The sweat was back.

She walked closer to him, her body relaxed. That's a good sign, right? "I was wondering if we could have a conversation."

Lance found himself nodding a bit too quickly, "a conversation? Yeah, whatever you want. What did you want to talk about?"

She gave him another stiff smile, "let's go somewhere to sit."

That was how Lance found himself perched on one of the couches on the lounge, Krolia sitting on the other side of him. Nobody else was around, Keith was training with Shiro, Allura and Coran were discussing new alliances, and Pidge and Hunk were doing something. It was just Lance and the one woman he was scared of.

"So tell me about yourself."

"Well um, I'm the youngest of five. I like the color blue. Y’know blue pilot for the blue lion, which is good since I like the color blue."

She raised her eyebrows at him and he cleared his throat. Already nervous rambling, great start Lance, he silently cursed at himself.

"I like the ocean, which is a big body of water on Earth."

She nodded, "I'm familiar."

"Right, right, right, with living there and stuff with Keith's dad. Well, I like space, I thought I would be older before I made my way to space though."

She sat back in the couch a bit more. "When did you and Keith get together? He wasn't very upfront with details."

"Oh! Like almost two years. I had a crush on him since the Garrison but I was convinced he didn't even like me. I guess I was wrong since he was pinning for me the entire time he knew me."

"Who asked who out?"

Lance hummed in thought, "it was kind of mutual. We just decided we were dating."

"What do you like most about him?"

Lance began tapping his fingers against his upper thighs. This was starting to feel like an interrogation, which was something he was nervous about. "Where do I start? He kind, even if he shows it through bluntness. He's so smart and brave and loyal and...yeah I could go on for hours."

She nodded her head very slowly, "and you want to build a life with him?"

Lance nodded, "of course I do. He's one of the most important people to me."

"I see."

An uncomfortable silence bloomed between them. Lance wanted to break it but no words would come. She eventually disrupted the silence by herself, asking a question Lance wasn't prepared to answer.

"And you think you make him happy?"

He blinked a couple of times, "I mean I hope I do."

"I hope you do too."

Lance left that conversation with a bitter taste in his mouth, hiding under the bedsheets, waiting for a black hole to swallow him whole.

He knew he wasn't on his A game, he was making small mistakes every hour or so. He wasn’t paying attention to small details. His mind was swarming around what Krolia said. How do I know if I'm making him happy? I can't read his mind. What if he's not happy with me and he's lying to me? He scrubbed the shampoo out of his hair, turning off the shower right as the alarms started blaring. Oh, this is just great.

He was the last one into his lion, he had to dry off and get dressed but he quickly joined formation as soon as he could.

"Paladins, this looks like you need to be on the ship to take down this laser." Coran's voice crackled over their coms.

"Alright, Hunk and I will stay up here and protect you from the air, Pidge stay with your lion and sneak up on any canons you can. Keith and Lance head down there and take this weapon out. Remember this has destroyed planets with one shot. Be vigilant and be quick, watch each other's backs." Shiro commanded the team around and everyone quickly fell into their positions.

Lance covered Keith with his gun while Keith lead them through the windy hallways of the ship. Things were going smooth, they were almost to the laser, and the others were watching them from the sky. It was a perfect mission.

Until it wasn't. Someone snuck by Lance's scope, somebody who neither of them saw until his sword was dug into Keith's gut. He crumbled quickly, a shout dying on his lips.

"Keith!?" Lance aimed quickly, taking down the Galran with one shot. "Shit shit shit," he kneeled down next to his boyfriend. "Guys Keith was hurt," he pressed his hands to the open wound, ignoring how red covered his fingers.

"How bad?" Krolia's voice crackled over the coms. Concern dripped off her voice.

"Bad, but a pod can fix him. Shiro do you have our location?"

"Yes."

"Someone come get him, I can get the laser," he wanted to wipe his eyes but he couldn’t take his helmet off. He focused on applying more pressure to the wound.

"Change of plans, Pidge get to the laser, Hunk cover her! I'm getting Lance and Keith."

Lance felt himself respond to Shiro but he didn't know what he said. "You're going to be okay Keith. I promise."

Keith blinked up at him, he could tell his consciousness was fading in and out. "Lance?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm right here."

"I love you."

Lance smiled, leaning down to place his helmet against his, still applying pressure to the wound. "I love you too."

"Marry me?"

Lance found himself laughing a bit, "I think you stole my line."

Keith shook his head, as much as he could. "I think it's my line."

Lance could hear the black lion starting to dig through the metal of the ship. "After we get you in a pod and you're not bleeding all over me let's talk about it."

"Okay," he closed his eyes again, "Lance?"

"Yeah baby?"

"My mom does like you."

Lance opened his mouth to respond but the black lion broke through the final piece. "Lance! Can you carry Keith?"

"Yeah hang on." He picked up his boyfriend as smoothly as he could and ran into the open jaws of the black lion. The rest of the mission passed in a blur. Lance could only focus on getting Keith into a pod. Krolia met them in the lion's bay, taking over carrying her son to the pod.

Lance was exhausted, the adrenaline leaving him as soon as Keith's weight was no longer in his arms. He wanted to chase after him, he needed to be there but his legs buckled under him and Shiro caught him as he went down.

"Lance, I need to go help Pidge and Hunk, are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a moment."

Shiro nodded, "Allura can you come get Lance in the bay? I think he exserted all his energy."

"Of course!"

"Okay Lance, we'll be back soon." Shiro reentered his lion, taking off as quickly as he landed.

Allura appeared a couple of moments later. She took off Lance's helmet, helping him stand. "Keith is in a pod, he's going to be okay."

"Thank god," he knew tears were falling down his face but he didn't care. He let her take him to the communal showers, spraying down his armor of the red color. The team returned soon after, the Red and Blue lions flying themselves back. The mission was a success.

He returned to his bedroom, snapping his armor off quickly. It was second nature at this point. He dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a loose fitting tee-shirt. He needed to go down and see Keith. His stomach turned a bit at the thought. If he paid a bit more attention this situation would have never happened.

He grabbed a blanket and a spare pillow and went to head down to the med bay, nearly slamming into Krolia as the door opened. She had her hand raised in a fist, clearly ready to knock.

"Oh, sorry."

Lance looked up at her, suddenly feeling the urge to cry. "I'm sorry!"

She gave him a confused look.

"I didn't protect him, he could have died over a stupid mistake I made and I'm so sorry." He was borderline hysterical at this point.

"Lance, please listen to me-"

"I'm sorry I'm not what you think he needs, I really try hard to be the best I can for him-"

"Lance-"

"And I want you to like me but after today I just feel like I don't deserve your approval-"

Krolia pulled him in for a hug, a bit crushing in all honesty. "Thank you. For saving him."

"I'm the reaso-"

"Shhhh you were there with him," she pulled back slightly. "He was right. I don't dislike you, I was worried about you liking me. You've been in his life a lot more than I have."

"Oh."

She pulled him in again, "I'm happy you're okay. I'm happy you were there to save him. Thank you for loving my son."

Lance dropped the items he was holding and wrapped his arms around her.

-----

I didn’t want to write her as being questionable of Lance or not approving; so she was just equally worried about impressing Lance.

I love this idea so much, I hope you liked it as well

Thank you <333333

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