#swynclayton

[rowsandrows-of-roses]

I Do, I Do, I Do --@ [Claybela]

In which Clayton and Isabela celebrate Valentine's Day...[takes place: February 14, 2023]

@vcnatorr

[tw -- none!]

[isabela's outfit] [clayton's outfit]

ISABELA: Dinner was perfect.

Exactly what Isabela had imagined. Clayton had picked her up in one of his sexy, sporty cars. Right on time. He had given her flowers (which, despite being able to create them with a wave of her hand, she still appreciated getting.) Remy’s was crowded, but they still had a lovely, intimate, candlelit corner all to themselves. Perks of dating the town Sheriff. 

She had been given free rein to order off the menu. Anything at all she wanted. 

All the boxes were checked. Isabela had never had such a picturesque, perfect Valentine’s Day. It was almost overwhelming. The whole thing felt like a dream. Like something you saw in a movie. Down to the handsome date, who said all the right things. Who made her laugh, raising his eyebrows at the woman who’d walked by them in some bright, feathery outfit. Who listened intently as she rambled about her family and Instagram. 

Isabela felt incredibly lucky. The affection was warm in her heart. It was a nice feeling. It had taken quite a long time to grow. Months, really. She had been worried, hesitant. If the Sheriff broke up with her, her reputation would be shattered. She had played conservative, pushing boundaries only when she thought she had the upper hand. But now, she felt comfortable. Clayton had never misstepped. He always said the right things. Always paid her just the right amount of attention. Seemed interested and attentive. 

Her hand reached across the table to take his as soon as the dessert menus had been taken by the waiter and he walked away.

“Thank you for this,” Isabela said. “I know you probably find it all a bit frivolous, but it means a lot. Just getting to spend time with you.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand and smiled at him.

CLAYTON: He had spent a lot of money to make sure that tonight went exactly according to plan. Time had been spent picking the perfect table, out of the way enough to feel intimate but still in plain view of everyone, because he wanted an audience for this. He had made sure that Isabela’s favourites, in fact everything on the menu, was kept in reserve so that she could order what she pleased – he even paid for the staff to get in extra ingredients lest she decide to go off menu. He had reserved a bottle of the best champagne for when she inevitably said yes, and he had gone over earlier to drop off the ringbox. Everything was in place.

And the night seemed to be going smoothly. Service was impeccable, as one would expect, given the amount of money he’d dropped on tonight, and Isabela seemed to be having a good time. Conversation flowing as well as the wine, the two of them comfortable, relaxed. It was exactly how Clayton had planned it.

He glanced down at Isabela’s hand on his, the gentle brush of her thumb over the back of his hand. Hard not to look at her very empty ring finger, but he didn’t want to give himself away just yet. It wouldn’t be long now, anyhow. The waiter would come back with their very special desserts, and after that…

“I don’t find it frivolous,” He told her. “Not if it’s something that makes you happy.”

Not entirely a lie. He really would do whatever he had to, to make her happy. To keep her that way. To keep her, end of. And he didn’t think a fancy dinner was frivolous - he loved a fancy dinner.

ISABELA: Isabela smiled wider. She couldn’t help herself. When around Clayton, Isabela did her best to be as mature as possible. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was too young, too immature to be with him. She didn’t mind that he was older, really. It just meant that he was established. He could treat her the way she wanted to be treated. He understood how to treat a lady. It wasn’t so hard, because Isabela had always felt mature for her age. Especially for the last few years. 

But right now, she felt giddy and girlish on champagne. This was the nicest date she’d ever been on. It was the exact sort of thing she’d always imagined. Every detail just like all those girlish day dreams she used to have when thinking about the prophecy foretold about her life. 

Not many people got told that in no uncertain terms they would get the life of their dreams. 

And here it was, playing out: the handsome, rich man whose attention was only on her, the expensive restaurant  with amazing food prepared just for her, the lovely outfit she’d been gifted by one of the brands she modeled for. There was not a single thing out of place. 

“Well, it does,” Isabela said, squeezing Clayton’s hand. “Though, just for the record: you make me happy. That’s all I need, really. Not that I’ll say no to all this.” She chuckled, putting her elbow on the table, her chin on the back of her free hand.   

CLAYTON: Clayton smiled gently, looking down at their joined hands. If he wasn’t so selfish he might’ve considered it a shame. Tying Isabela to himself, a man he wasn’t sure was even really capable of loving anyone enough to say the words and mean them. Many would argue that she deserved at least that — but then again, those people weren’t about to offer her a stately home and a centuries old fortune. Clayton was allowed to be a bit selfish, he thought, with so much on the table.

He chuckled at the remark, looking up at her again, studying her for just a moment with that same small smile. It had taken time for Isabela to soften, for them to get to here. A part of him worried whether or not this would be too much too soon, if she would spook. Clayton had never liked horses. He was a skilled rider, just like anyone in his family ought to be, but he had never got along with the beasts. The skittishness, never knowing what was going to set them off one day because it could be different to the day that came before it. That was how he thought of Isabela, sometimes. He would have her all sussed out, he thought, then something like this would come along, and he was back to square one.

“I’m glad to hear you say that. Both things — because truly, I do love to spoil you, whether you need it or not.” Was this the right moment? Clayton had never proposed to someone before. Not with the intent to go through with it, anyhow. “And in fact, there’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

ISABELA: Isabela preened a little at that. It was true that this whole arrangement was because Isabela needed someone to take care of her and her family. But, it was just a bonus that he did like to spoil her. She had always adored the finer things in life; sparkling diamonds, silk chiffon, couture, caviar, champagne. She deserved these things, in her opinion. Isabela was a creature of comfort and Clayton could provide it. 

There was nothing wrong with it. No shame in it. Isabela loved him in her own way because of it. The way a dog loved its master, because it depended on it for every meal. 

So, if she had to answer Clayton, she would say she did need it. She needed spoiling very, very badly. Especially after the last five years of her life, which had been more horror than she ever wanted to experience again. 

“Is that so?” Isabela asked, smiling wide, but suddenly, she felt her heart fluttering intensely in her chest. Thrumming fast and loud. She wondered for a moment if Clayton could hear it. She hoped not. It made her feel like a rabbit with its foot caught in a trap. That wasn’t Clayton’s fault. Isabela just hated anything that made her feel out of control…like nerves. There was always a chance that you could mess up when you were nervous.

And Isabela was--wanted to be--perfect.

“You can ask me anything.” 

CLAYTON: He smiled, feeling very much like he had won. He couldn’t imagine any way she could say no; there was a small possibility, he supposed, but he would’ve had to have wildly misjudged the situation for that to happen. No — no, he was quite positive that she was going to say yes. 

His timing was impeccable. The waiter brought out their desserts, held aloft on a silver tray. It wasn’t anything on the menu; he had gone into the kitchen ahead of time to discuss the options with the chef. The amount of money he’d spent on the ring concealed inside of it, he didn’t want it getting covered in chocolate fondant or god knows what. 

And with the waiter, of course, came the string quartet. Just moments after the waiter had set Isabela’s plate down in front of her they appeared, as if from thin air, just across the restaurant. Playing something classic and romantic, because Clayton had told them to choose something classic and romantic. The waiter disappeared, and Clayton smiled a little. On her plate, which was carefully decorated with rose petals and swipes of some sort of raspberry sauce or something, the chef had really outdone himself, was what appeared to be a ring box. A ring box made of chocolate, of course — he’d told the chef to have a little fun with it.

“Open it,” he urged her, gesturing for her to lift the lid.

ISABELA: It would be a lie for Isabela to say she hadn’t expected this. 

It was also the truth. 

Somehow, these things coincided within her. The shock and the certainty. Her nerves fizzled and popped and she wished she’d had more of the champagne. The violins in her ears sounded harsh, discordant—surprising. 

The little blue box sat in the middle of the table. A gauntlet thrown down. 

That wasn’t how it was supposed to feel when you got proposed to, Isabela imagined. And maybe it was just because this wasn’t how she’d pictured it. Clayton? He was perfect. These circumstances? Not so much. 

When Isabela thought about her proposal, she always thought about it somewhere quiet. Maybe on a beach (in Avalor, of course.) Secluded and quiet. Just the two of them. She’d never told Clayton this, obviously. She would never be so bold. But it was a sudden, sharp reminder that they didn’t know each other all that well. 

He didn’t even know her real name. 

Isabela stared at the little blue box and wondered if Clayton had spoken to her father. Or Abuela. 

And then—she wondered why she was wondering about any of this at all!

It was perfect. Because it was Clayton. Because Clayton was perfect. Exactly what she wanted. Mature. Rich. Powerful. He had already proven he was more than willing to take care of her family and she was so eternally grateful to him for that. Her family was suffering less because of him. Her sister was happy because of him. They could all be happy because of him. No one more so than Isabela herself. 

So, she smiled and rose petals showered around them as she reached forward and lifted the lid. 

The ring inside twinkled and winked in the low light. It shimmered just like the tears in the corners of Isabela’s eyes, that she had managed to summon from somewhere. 

A perfectly manicured hand went over her mouth. 

“William—is this—?” she managed, even though she knew the answer. And she knew what hers had to be as well. 

CLAYTON: No, he hadn’t spoken to her father, nor her Abuela – he didn’t want anything getting in the way of the thing that he wanted.

Clayton had always gotten his own way. Not from his parents, no; he was rich but not spoiled, at least not until he’d gotten wise enough to learn how to get whatever it was he wanted, whenever he happened to want it. Admittedly, getting someone to agree to marry him was probably his biggest undertaking yet, but he had been nothing if not confident in his own abilities. 

He had already thought it all through. There would be an announcement, small, a dinner just for the family where he would apologise for not doing things properly, but it had all been so spur of the moment! Just that very morning, consumed by adoration and Valentine’s Day and all the rest of it, he had decided he would do it. Oh, of course, he had been thinking about it for a while, really he had planned to do it properly, but he had been so taken by how romantic it would be – how romantic it was!

Easy enough lies to spin to settle any qualms anyone had. Not that he thought they would have any, really. Not with who he was, what he had done for them, what he could do for them. They would be fools to stand in his way.

Clayton smiled softly, shifting so that he could lift the ring oh-so-gently from its confectionary container, and then moving to the side of the table, getting down on one knee. He had the sudden urge to laugh, the very idea of himself being down on one knee truly the funniest thing he’d thought of in a long time, but he didn’t. He held Isabela’s gaze, smiling up at her, as he held the ring aloft. 

“Isabela, my love, will you marry me?”

ISABELA: There were many times in Isabela’s life where she didn’t feel as if she had any control. Where she couldn’t make a decision. She simply had to accept her fate and move forward. The inertia of her life had been pulling her forward since she was a little girl. 

Perfect Isabela. Beautiful Isabela. Kind Isabela. Talented Isabela. 

The life of her dreams was promised.

And here it was. Exactly as it should be. Handsome man. Down on one knee. A large ring, sparkling on a plush cushion. 

There was nothing else to say, was there? 

“Yes,” she said with a brilliant smile, sparkling like the diamonds. 

She leaned forward in her seat, cupping Clayton’s cheeks in both of her hands and kissing him once, softly. She tried to summon tears, but nothing happened. Perhaps that was for the best. Clayton loved her because she was poised and elegant and restrained. 

At least, she thought he must love her. Considering neither of them had ever said it. 

Around them, there was a smattering of applause. And the sound of camera shutters from someone’s phone, taking a picture. 

When she sat back, Isabela wiggled her hand in Clayton’s direction so he could slide the ring onto her finger. It was slightly too big. She had to hold it between her pinky and middle finger so it wouldn’t slide, but that was alright. She could get it adjusted. 

“It’s beautiful,” she sighed, admiring the glitter of it. “Thank you.” She looked up at him and smiled, giggled just a bit--more of a nervous breath. 

CLAYTON: Of course, that was exactly the reaction he had been expecting. Her smile and her breathy sounding answer, leaning forward as she pulled him into a gentle kiss. A small, almost chaste thing. He stayed settled on one knee even as she pulled back, waiting for her to hold her hand out before he slipped the ring onto her finger.

He didn’t notice the size, only that it looked as glamorous and ostentatious as he had planned for it to be. It wasn’t an antique or anything, he’d had it sent for specially. Perhaps his mother would’ve given away one of her baubles if he’d told her his plans, but his mother didn’t even know that Isabela existed, never mind that he was going to marry her.

He smiled as he stood, kissing the back of her hand. The ring was cold and solid as it caught the edge of his lips, but he paid it no mind; he simply sat back down in his seat, and reached for his glass.

“A toast, then? To the bride to be?”

A waiter was already hovering over them, ready to pour a bottle of champagne.

ISABELA: It was real. This was happening. 

It felt like a dream. So strange. Everything moving so slowly. Everything in sharp relief. Isabela could smell the innocuous burn of the candles on the table. Clayton’s cologne cloying the air. There was the sound of people slowly returning to their meals, the tinkling of expensive utensils against expensive dishware. She didn’t know how she’d gotten here. It felt like she’d simply woken up in this restaurant, on this date. 

Well, she had been told that her life would be a dream. Funny to think this might be what Tìo Bruno had meant. 

The ring was heavy on her finger. Cold too. It hadn’t warmed to her skin yet. 

She smiled at Clayton as he stood and settled back into her own seat, lifting her glass to watch as golden liquid spilled into it. 

“To us,” she replied and clinked her glass against Clayton’s, before taking a sip, sealing the deal.

[tarzan-ofthe-apes]

Strangers Like Me # [Clayzan]

@vcnatorr​

The sheriff’s department was where JT remembered it. He hadn’t been back in Swynlake since Christmas three years ago and he hadn’t had any reason to be visiting the sheriff’s department. Honestly, he still didn’t really think that he had a reason to be visiting the sheriff’s department. It was at his mother’s insistence that he was here. When she had her mind made up about something, it was impossible to change it. And she had her mind made up about JT reconnecting with his Clayton family.

Though, was it reconnecting when you’d never really had a connection to start? His parents had died when he was five and he’d lived in Tanzania that whole time. He’d maybe been to the Clayton estate once? Twice? And he didn’t remember it at all. Not to mention, his cousin was nearly twenty years older than he was. And, if rumor was to be believed, enjoyed a good round of hunting.

But, Mama wanted him to connect, so that was what he was going to do. His mama had eyes everywhere. She’d know if he didn’t.

The receptionist was kind enough to let him back, directing him to William’s office. Jane, his wolfdog, was at his side as he knocked on the half open door.

“Uh, William Clayton?” JT said, ducking into the doorframe. “Uh, hi. I’m JT. John, er, Clayton-Menga?” His own name was spoken like a question.

[lookbook just regular trainers why would u wear oxfords w this outfit]

[mamabear-elinor]

Celebratory Dinner -> [Claynor]

@vcnatorr​

Could Elinor afford a nice evening at Remy’s? No, not necessarily.

Was she going to let William, or anyone else know that? Absolutely not. 

She would get three jobs if it meant being able to keep up appearances. To whom? She wasn’t really sure yet, but Elinor was not used to living paycheck to paycheck and she felt herself straining against that life. Hopefully, when she broke away from Fergus officially, she would get a little money in severance. After all, they hadn’t signed any sort of prenuptial, because no one in the Order ever got divorced.

Anyway, this was not the place to be thinking about her soon-to-be ex-husband. 

She was here to celebrate one of her only friends in Swynlake. Who had just been hired as sheriff. How lovely for him. And for her, if she was honest. Now she had close connections to both the mayor and the sheriff, and she knew what kind of power being in a position like that could hold. If only she kept it up, which meant wining and dining William at Remy’s. 

When he found her table, she stood up to greet him. “Hullo,” she said, laying her hand on her arm and kissing his cheek before settling in her seat again. “Congratulations! Goodness, I didn’t even know you were applying.” 

[outfit]

[rowsandrows-of-roses]

Meet the Madrigals --@ [La Familia Madrigal + Clayton]

In which Clayton officially meets the Madrigals...[takes place: late August, 2022]

@vcnatorr, @accident-prone-agustin, @letitrain-letitsnow-letitgo, @tirameunpaso-felix, @haveyoumet-dolores, @waitingona-mirabel

[tw -- none really!]

ISABELA: “I’ll get it!” Isabela said, trotting towards the door, a field of poppies springing up behind her as she went. While this display was beautiful, it was also a symptom of Isabela’s anxiety. Her magic was wild, vines curling around the columns that framed the doorway as she moved towards it, squeezing tight.

Isabela had never brought a boy home to meet her family before.

She’d had boyfriends, of course. Sweet things when they’d all been children in Encanto that did not really count. And there had been one boyfriend while she’d been in University that she had been somewhat serious with. Pico had been lovely, the son of a politician, but she had lost touch with him after the coup. And he had only ever met her father, who worked in the capital sometimes and had had lunch with him once. 

This was completely different. Clayton wasn’t a boyfriend, really. He was. They’d agreed to be exclusive, but calling him her boyfriend felt immature. This was a proper relationship. One that she wanted to last. And that meant he had to make a good impression on her family. And…they had to make a good impression on him.

She had complete faith in them all. 

“Hola!” Isabela said, slightly breathless as Casita’s door swung open and a burst of flowers rushed passed Isabela, showering Clayton before disappearing as Isabela waved her hand. “Sorry. Come in! Come in!” She pulled Clayton in by the elbow, leading him back into the courtyard. A squirrel skittered across the floor, climbing up the vines that had just appeared in the doorway. 

“Alright, well--this is everyone,” she gestured broadly to the long table set in the center of the courtyard where everyone was bustling back and forth. 

“Tia Pepa, Antonio--” she pointed them out. “Tio Felix and Camilo.” 

“Ay!” Camilo perked up at the sound of his name. 

“Dolores, Luisa, Mirabel--” she pointed as each came out of the kitchen carrying a different dish for the table. “My papa, Agustin. Mama is still in the kitchen, I think. And--” she pulled Clayton a little further into the house. 

“This is Abuela,” Isabela said, smiling wide at her abuelita, heart hammering in her chest. 

CLAYTON: This was not his first visit to the Madrigal household, but it was arguably the most important one. All of them had been important, realistically; the last, when he had stopped by to make sure Isabela was alright after the whole prom night debacle, had very much set them away down the path they were now on. But this was his first visit meeting the family, an activity that Clayton loathed with an overwhelming passion. Admittedly, the families he tended to meet were usually landed gentry and so boring they could reduce a man to tears before the footmen could even bring around the amuse-bouche. 

He had a feeling this meeting would not be so boring. People moving to and fro, little creatures scurrying across their path as they made their way to a courtyard that Clayton was starting to become familiar with. The foliage seemed thicker this time, tangles of vines and flowers coating every other surface. How did anyone ever get anything done around here with all the clutter?

And so many bodies - more siblings and cousins and assembled family than one could shake a stick at. Clayton was used to a house feeling too big, too empty. It was quite the change here; it felt vaguely claustrophobic. Would she want to move the entire family in, once they took over the house at Islip? He supposed if they had their own wing…

He gave each one a nod, a polite smile. Held up a hand to the people who waved in the first place, and let himself be led deeper into their maze of a home.

Now, he was no idiot. Every family had a figurehead, and he knew from the way Isabela spoke about her that her Abuela was very much the head of the household. So he gave his best charming-but-humble smile, reserved very much for situations like this, as he said, “It’s very nice to meet you. And thank you so much, for inviting me - Isabela has told me a lot about your family. It’s nice to be able to put faces to the names.”

FELIX: Felix wasn’t sure about this at all.

But! It wasn’t his place to be sure or not sure about it. Maybe if it was Lo who was bringing home the town Sheriff as her boyfriend he would have a little more sway to say something, but– well, he could only do his best to be supportive of everyone involved. And right now, being supportive meant carrying plates out of the kitchen, helping to get the table set, and keeping his sons out of trouble.

“Antonio, tell the rabbits to stop stealing the salad, there’ll be nothing left for our guest!” He huffed, shooing away a couple of long-eared, fuzzy-tailed thieves. He looked up as Isabela went skittering past in a shower of flowers, pausing to watch the two of them come back through to the courtyard. Nothing was ever ready on time in this family, he tutted to himself. Still a few things to be done before they’d be ready, but never mind. He waved as he heard his name, elbowing Camillo to get him to focus. “Come on, we’ve still got stuff to do, eh? Stay focused.”

He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on the conversation with Aubela. Except that he was, honestly– he knew how scary meeting Abuela was. He’d done it before, a very long time ago now. He’d had the advantage of being a child, he supposed; by the time he came to Abuela as a potential son-in-law she already knew him rather well. 

“I hope she only told him the good things, hm?” Felix chuckled, looking at Mirabel as he passed by her.

MIRABEL: Mirabel doubted that. She could imagine Isabela complaining about her to the Sheriff, apologizing for her screw-up sister who didn’t get a gift and failed out of school and continued to embarrass herself at every turn. The image was vivid in her mind, entirely constructed (Mirabel didn’t think she’d said two words to the man), but very vivid. The way she imagined it, Isabela was still the enemy, and Sheriff Clayton was her new co-conspirator. 

So no, Mirabel did not have any reservations about whether this was a good match. It was clearly a great match. And one that was totally designed to torture her. 

Because Mirabel looked at her sister and her new boyfriend and all she felt was jealousy. This was a man Abuela would approve of. He had money, and he was prominent in the community, and the only thing that would make him better was if he was Avaloran— but that was harder to achieve in Swynlake. If Mirabel brought home an artist… well, Abuela would probably just silently judge, Mirabel imagined. 

Still, she was supposed to be polite and supportive and not cause drama the way she always did (even inadvertently). So she smiled at Tío Félix. “There aren’t any bad things, Tío. Except maybe my dancing,” she laughed and set down the tray of arepas she was carrying. She glanced at her tía. “Is there anything else I can grab from the kitchen?” Mirabel preferred to have any excuse to run around tonight— and avoid having to tell Isabela how thrilled she was for her. 

PEPA: Pepa was — 

Well, Pepa was excited. Pepa was anxious. Pepa was trying to take deep breaths so that she did not summon a storm in the middle of Casita on this very very important dinner! All of that meant that Pepa was actually trying to keep herself as occupied as possible, and till Clayton had showed up, Pepa had been following Julieta around the kitchen, listening to her older sister and dutifully following in her lead. It was good to put the decisions in someone else’s hands, though if Pepa knew her sister at all, she knew that Julieta was probably putting all her energy into the food so that she wouldn’t worry herself.

All that being said, by the time Mirabel came up to her, right after Pepa had set the second bowl of salad down (this one untouched by the rabbits), there was simply nothing left that needed to be brought —

“Hmm, maybe we should bring out some wine?” Pepa suggested. “Your father brought home a good bottle the other night — which one was it Agustin?” She called to her brother-in-law. “Do you think our guest would like it? I liked it a lot — a good, full-bodied red. If he has good taste, he’ll like it.”

Pepa threw her niece a wink, trying to soothe any nerves that she might have. To be honest, Pepa wasn’t looking at anyone’s reagents right now. Not when she was trying to keep the skies clear and sunny and the mood festive and joyous! No, no, no, getting bogged down by any one else would not do.

“Agustin — go help your daughter with the wine. Oh, glasses too!” 

DOLORES: Dolores was 100% trying to eavesdrop on the conversation with Abuela and Isa AND Clayton. She wanted to know if she liked this man. If she liked the guy her cousin who was basically her sister was bringing home and at the same time she was jealous because she didn’t have anyone and not for a lack of trying either. And here Isa was with someone she cared about on her arm meeting Abuela.

It was tough.

But she would be pleasant and proud and happy for her.

She would!

And she would spy just a little. It was what she did.

Slipping over to her Mama, Dolores set a hand on her arm with a smile and a reassuring grin. They all knew to keep Mama calm incase of a sudden storm. What a horrid first impression. But then there were more animals rushing across the ground and Dolores had to move carefully to avoid them rushing after Ani to help get them calm.

“Food is on the table whenever we’re ready to sit!” Dolores called out ushering the animals away from the couple and Abuela.

AGUSTÍN: Agustín had his reservations about the sheriff, namely that he didn’t seem qualified for the job and that he had to be closer in age to him than to his daughter…which he supposed was fine, with Ines being nearly thirty. Still he had to wonder what he had in common with his daughter beyond good looks. But that wasn’t the point of this evening and nor was Agustín Valera known to be ‘that kind of man’, the kind who was mistrusting and overprotective, and who bristled when you called him by his wife’s surname. Agustín was none of those things both by nature and for optics. 

He brought the wine into the dining room with Mirabel and nodded politely at Clayton, before gesturing to Mirabel for her to sit. He picked his spot out between Julieta and Mirabel — figuring Isabela would want to be with Clayton and Alma — and began to pour wine for everyone. 

“The first class for the guest of course,” Agustín said, pouring some into Clayton’s glass, then Isabela’s. 

ISABELA: Isabela and Clayton chatted with Abuela for a moment, whilst the rest of the family bustled around, but then, it was time to sit down. Isa moved over to her chair, her hand on Clayton’s arm so that she could direct him to the seat next to her, just in case he got stressed about where to sit. It wasn’t necessarily intuitive. And no one sat the same place every night. Sometimes, Isa and Lo sat together so they could gossip about the going ons of the day. Sometimes, it was Camilo and Isa for the same reasons. When Antonio was littler, Isa used to sit next to him to help him with dinner, so the adults could take a break. Sometimes she sat next to Luisa because her sister had had a hard day at work. Sometimes, it was Tio Felix, so that they could discuss the latest episode of whatever telly show they were watching. Or Abuela, when she had something impressive to tell her.

The one constant was that Mira and Isa usually avoided each other. No one commented on it, but it was rather obvious. 

Her sister was down at the other end of the table now, thank God. Both her parents as a buffer, so, hopefully, she didn’t say anything nasty. The last thing Isabela needed was for Clayton to think that her family was a handful. There were many of them, but they were chill! Relaxed. Totally normal. 

“Thank you all for coming, I know we don’t always get to sit down together, but it means a lot to me and I know it means a lot to William too.” She reached over and put her hand on his arm for a moment. 

Abuela, who had taken this time to serve herself, took a bite of her food, which meant the table burst into a flurry of activity as everyone else started passing around the food. (She could see her mother, on Clayton’s other side, eyeing what he put on his plate.) 

“So, Senor Clayton, please. Tell us about yourself.” That was Alma, watching him with a keen eye.

CLAYTON: There wasn’t really anything about tonight that was stressing Clayton out as it happened. He had no doubts that he was charming enough to be able to make a good impression, but he was careful to keep himself a step behind Isabela, following her gentle guidance. It wasn’t that he was timid, needing her to point him in the right direction, though if it came across that way he wasn’t sure he would mind. Better that than to put his foot in his mouth. He was a naturally confident person, yes, but he was also used to moving in the same circles. Circles that he understood, and knew how to navigate - this was new to him. And he was smart enough to know when to tread carefully.

He really should’ve become an actor, he thought, as he gave a gentle, gracious smile, looking to Isabela as she placed a hand on his arm and thanked the family for gathering as they had. To be honest, he couldn’t care less; but it was important to her, which meant it had to be important to him. 

He waited until everyone else started to pass around the plates, careful to put a little bit of everything on his own. Not that he knew what half of it was, but he also wasn’t particularly fussy. And tonight was about the meal anyways, it was about this: painting a specific picture of himself, so that the family didn’t try to throw too many spanners in the works.

“Well, I grew up in the country, not too far from Oxford. But I’ve actually lived in London most of my life - I was very lucky to get a job straight after I finished my Masters degree, right in the city. I was a journalist for a while, but London was…” He shook his head, considering his words. “It’s not the type of place you settle in, and that was really what I was starting to look for. I had a few friends who had mentioned Swynlake, so I decided to look into it, and,” He smiled, raising his shoulders in a half-shrug. “I never left.”

FÉLIX: The good thing about having been a parent for many years, and about having specifically parented his own children, was that Félix was good at having his eyes on two different things at once (and having eyes in the back of his head at the same time, too, but he wasn’t using those right now). He was busy loading up his plate, making sure Antonio took some of the vegetables as they were passed round and trying to make sure Camillo didn’t take all of the patacones before they’d had a chance to make their way around the table. 

But he was also listening to Clayton. Growing up in the countryside, living in London, he wasn’t sure how Alma would feel about any of those things but that comment– wanting to settle. He glanced sideways at Pepa, sharing a look with her. Alma would be happy with that, surely. She wanted stability for Isabela, she wanted someone her eldest grandchild could depend on, right? And it sounded like that was who Clayton was, even if he wasn’t necessarily the person any of them would’ve picked for Isa…

Félix glanced at Alma, trying to gauge her reaction - he spent a lot of his time doing that. And he did remember being in Clayton’s shoes, meeting her for the first time. Félix hadn’t exactly been nervous, because he’d known her since he was just a boy, but it was still sort of scary, to meet her not as a family friend but as Pepa’s boyfriend. She was quite imposing when she wanted to be. Most of the time, in fact.

Félix looked away, passing the plate of tamales to Mirabel.

MIRABEL: Oxford. London. Master’s degree. Mirabel didn’t even need to look at Abuela’s face. She knew that her grandmother was probably overjoyed. Being a journalist was sort of interesting, but Mirabel imagined it was probably for some horribly boring topic, like economics or something. And he wasn’t even doing that anymore, he was the Sheriff. 

And, apparently, Isabela’s boyfriend now.

Really, they were perfect for each other. Because they were both so bloody perfect.

She tried to think of something interesting to say, but she imagined Isabela would probably prefer it if she just didn’t. So Mirabel just took a tamale and passed the plate to her father, looking at Clayton the whole time, her expression polite but maybe a little pensive. And then she caught Abuela’s eye— her expression unreadable as always— and wondered if she needed to be more friendly.

“That’s, um, really cool,” Mirabel said on a whim, even though she had just decided she was going to keep quiet. But that was harmless, right? 

PEPA: Now, Pepa was impressed! A Masters degree meant he was smart. And so-very English too — that accent! Pepa smiled, taking a sip of her wine and listening to Isa’s boyfriend talk. 

They were both so beautiful too. If this was serious — and it was serious, because Isabela would not bring just anyone to family dinner like this — then Isabela would make a most beautiful bride. They’d be a gorgeous couple, with gorgeous children! 

Okay — maybe she was getting ahead of herself. But could you blame her? The family needed some good news, especially after all they’d been through. The coup, losing Bruno, the past five years in this small, rainy little town, their magic faltering… the family needed to come together about something joyous. And what was more joyous than love? 

Pepa looked fondly at her husband, and reached for his hand.

“Oh, I hope Dolores finds someone as successful as this soon,” she whispered, stroking Felix’s arm. 

DOLORES: Growing up in the country, it could be so romantic, Dolores swooned just a little bit, and the fact he didn’t want a big city life, in a way Dolores could make it out to be some Jane Austen type of deal. Meeting in the small city, wanting to stay away from the crowds. A whirlwind romance potentially.

Focused on the story Dolores almost missed the food being passed to her so she could take some, passing it onto the next. A blush coating her cheeks at her Mama’s words. She wanted this too, she really did. She wanted to be swept up in a romance that you were bringing them home to a family dinner.

And not to mention Isa had set the standard very high with the sheriff. 

“That sounds lovely, you want to make Swynlake your home then?” Is that good or bad, would they ever go back or would they set up roots just like this.

AGUSTÍN: Agustín sat quietly, not really having anything to add. He wasn’t sure he cared to get to know this man quite yet; but more importantly, thought he’d do better to suss him out by observing. He nodded along as he talked himself up as any man would do meeting his girlfriend’s family for the first time and tried not to think about how this man probably had his Masters degree before he’d achieved his own.

Him, really?

Ay, he seemed like a respectable man. He was trying to be positive, open, and not so protective of his little girl who was a grown woman now, but…he knew Isabela was dating with the intention of marriage within a couple years. Alma didn’t always say it in so many words but she certainly expected Isa and Lo to marry sooner rather than much later. He hoped Isabela didn’t feel pressured to make it happen, that she’d just go with the flow and know when the time was right.

Still, he knew she preferred to date seriously, with her future in mind. He liked that about his eldest daughter; that she was careful, calculated, and took steps to meet her ultimate goals. 

Only, hm. When he pictured meeting a future son-in-law, he pictured a man…at least young enough to be his hermanito Danilo’s age.

He supposed if Isabela was happy and being treated well he could get used to it! Yes, surely he would.

ISABELA: “Yes, what a good question, mi vida,” Abuela said before looking back at Clayton with sharp, alert eyes. “Do you intend to make Swynlake home?” 

She had been sitting quietly whilst her family prattled on. Despite being the matriarch, Abuela Alma could be rather sparse. She preferred to observe. And you could always feel the way that she watched you. Isabela felt the weight of her gaze now and made sure to straighten her shoulders so that she would not crumble underneath it. She smiled and looked at Clayton herself, curious what he had to say. 

It had never occurred to her that Clayton may not want to stay in Swynlake. His home was elsewhere after all, and there was nothing keeping him from it. Not like Isabela. She wondered if she married him…would she ever be able to go home? Would he want to move into Casita the way she always imagined her husband would? Just like her Papa and Tio had? 

There was no point in thinking about that now. They had to survive the interrogation first. 

CLAYTON: Oh, but there was such an easy answer to this question. Honestly, he didn’t even have to try.

He had played the role of the good boyfriend before. The doting boyfriend, the almost-too-good boyfriend. Being charming was like any other talent - some were born with a natural capability for it, but it still needed to be worked at to be perfected. And Clayton had worked at it. He had put hours and hours into it.

(Of course, playing the good boyfriend was often extremely tedious and boring. He preferred it when he got to play the bad boyfriend. The bring-him-home-to-piss-off-your-parents boyfriend. He’d done that a few times, when he was younger, and it was always so much more fun.)

“I like to think I already have,” He answered simply, smiling at Alma. “And now, especially, I can’t imagine why I’d want to leave.”

He looked at Isabela for a moment, placing his hand over hers, squeezing gently.

FÉLIX: He squeezed his wife’s hand gently, smiling at her. Glanced at Dolores in his periphery, just for a moment, wondering if she had heard. Knowing that she probably would have. He didn’t want her to feel any pressure, of course not! But Pepa was right. It would be nice if Dolores could find herself someone who seemed as successful and well put together as the Sheriff. Someone as devoted, too!

Because he did seem so devoted. Félix looked at his wife again, eyebrows arching for a moment in silent communication, a little smile on his lips. Oh, yes, it all seemed very serious! And Félix was sure that was just the answer Abuela was wanting to hear. Honestly, it was like he was reading aloud from a script, almost. It was perfect! Was it too perfect?

Félix wondered for a fraction of a second about the uneasy feeling that crept over him, until he noticed Antonio slipping scraps of meat to the badger that was sitting underneath his chair. Félix hissed at him to cut it out, thoroughly distracted again.

MIRABEL: Now that Mirabel was over her initial annoyance at just how picture-perfect Isa and her new boyfriend were and the conversation had moved into this lovey-dovey shit, Mirabel was starting to get bored. 

She didn’t want anything crazy to happen, because that would be stressful, but she wished this were a normal family dinner when everyone wasn’t on their best behavior. Was this going to be the new normal whenever the Sheriff was around? All these manners and polite conversation?

The thought was very depressing. 

Mirabel heard Tío Félix’s scolding and smiled at Antonio, though she didn’t dare egg him on. She just had to get through the rest of this dinner.

PEPA: At the mention of home, Pepa’s heart panged.

She missed her home — she missed every place she’d ever called home. She missed Avalor, where she had spent most her life. And when she allowed herself, she let herself miss Colombia. Sometimes, late at night, she squeezed her eyes shut very tight and remembered running through the grass with her siblings and picking flowers to give Felix. 

Around her, it began to mist slightly.

She cleared her throat, trying to think of happier things — the last thing this evening needed was a rainstorm!

So she thought of smiling Isabela. She thought of Swynlake. This was home now. It was grey and cloudy and cold more often than not, but Casita still stood strong, and her family still shared a meal together. And if Clayton and Isabela got married then, well, this would be home even more! They were resilient, the Madrigals, and Pepa knew they could weather any storm. 

“And what a lovely place to call a home!” chimed Pepa. She giggled, hoping that any clouds gathering around her would disperse with her laughter. 

DOLORES: Good. That meant Isa was staying here, with her, with her family. Dolores wasn’t sure what she would do if another one of her family members left without the intent to come back. It was why when Mirabel left it was easier to handle since she would be back sooner than later.

Maybe if they could go home, Clayton would join them as well.

But for now this was enough to settle any other worries for now.

Issue one dealt with.

CLAYTON: Well, it seemed like that had been the correct answer, at the very least.

He supposed it wasn’t wrong. He had made Swynlake a home, and truly, he had no plans to leave it. Why would he? He had the town under his thumb for the most part, and now he was securing for himself a match that meant when the old man did finally kick the bucket, he would have someone to manage the house, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the sodding thing. He might have to move back there for a few months, whilst things got settled and everyone got into the swing of having a new Baron in charge of the place, but it would still only be temporary. 

Though he wasn’t sure he could ever call a place home for too long. At some point he’d grow tired of playing policeman and the game in the forest would dry up and then he’d be forced to look for somewhere else. Until then, however, this was very much his home, and he had no plans to change that.

“My thoughts exactly,” He said, directing a smile at Pepa before he looked at Isabela again, attempting to gauge her reaction.

ISABELA: Isabela had not actually thought about that. To ask it. To know what his plans were. He was the sheriff. Of course he was planning to stay here. And Isabela had simply just always thought that whoever she married would move into Casita with her. It was big enough. Whoever her husband was, Casita would make room for them. Quite literally. There had never been another thought about it for her. It simply was.

But now, she realized it was not guaranteed. Maybe whoever she married wouldn’t want to live in Casita. Maybe they would have obligations elsewhere. Maybe they wouldn’t want to be in Swynlake. The idea had struck her so forcefully that she’d actually sprouted a few daisies in her hair that she managed to brush off with a simple smile as Clayton had answered. 

Plus, it seemed as if he was saying that she was part of the reason to stay. Which made her very happy indeed. She smiled more broadly, pleased with Clayton’s reply. 

“Aye, it is a good home,” Abuela agreed. 

Isabela felt her grandmother’s eyes on her and turned towards her. Abuela gave her a small, single nod. Isabela straightened her shoulders in her seat as the conversation around them picked up again. She felt as if she had won the night. Everything was going exactly as she wanted.

[rowsandrows-of-roses]

No One Ever Says No to Me --@ [Claybela]

@vcnatorr​

It had been a busy summer. She had spent most of it trying to keep her family’s spirits up, assisting the community any way she could, and languishing in her bedroom--having an existential crisis. But, existential crisis were terrible for your complexion, so she had kept them to a minimum. The last thing she needed was a crack.

There was too much to be done. Through the chaos, Isabela had been determined not to let Clayton forget about her. She texted him every now and then (not too much, just enough to say hello and to make sure he was taking care of himself through the chaos.) She had stopped into the department twice, once to drop off a thank you card for him having dropped into Casita and another time to bring him over a note from the mayor. Being in and out of Town Hall had its advantages. Her aunt being the secretary to the mayor, even more so.

In this time, she had befriended Sharon, the secretary, and learned Clayton’s birthday. Which was how she had arranged reservations at Remy’s, after getting Elena to tell her what table was the sheriff’s favorite. Having connections was so lovely, wasn’t it?

Now, she just had to wait.

Clayton did not keep her waiting for long. As he was a gentleman. When he arrived she smiled at him, getting up to tell him hello and kiss his cheek, in a way that could be taken as friendly...or not.

“Feliz cumpleaños,” she told him. “I hope you have had a good one so far. I do so love birthdays.”

[outfit]

[rowsandrows-of-roses]

Grow to Prom with Me? * [Claybela]

@vcnatorr​

Isabela was not nervous about this. She couldn’t be. There was no way Clayton would refuse her. Like Dolores had said: they wouldn’t have spent so much money on a raffle if he didn’t want to go with her. Still, she hated being the one to put herself out there. In her opinion, it should be a man, asking her to prom. But, she had known that wouldn’t happen.

Her mother had raised a modern woman and that meant taking things into her own hands. So, here she was, at the sheriff’s office again. A place that was becoming rather familiar to her at this point.

This was a win, she told herself. Wasn’t this what she wanted? To catch the sheriff’s eye.

“Hello, Ms. Sheila, is Clayton in?”

“Yes, Miss Madrigal. You can head back.”

“Thank you.” Isabela swept past to the open office door, knocking gently.

“Hello, Sheriff. I was wondering if you had a quick moment?” She flashed a pretty smile.

[outfit]