#these visitors sparked one of wes's theorys again

[phantoms-world-and-more]

Amity park being uncanny vally

So the whole of amity park is ecto-contaminated (the fentons, sam, tucker and valery being the most) but the side effects happen over time

They all slowly stop aging, some peoples teeth get sherper, some people grow claws, some can run faster than cars, some can see in the dark ect;

But this happens to everyone, so after a point being immortal and liminal becomes the norm,

The fentons learn this and help people adapt to the contamination, they also change their research to better understand ghosts and ecto-contamination

So afew decades pass and some unlikely travellers get lost and find amity...but

Its terrifying

All the people look at them like their the weird ones,(because amity park hasn't had visitors in years no one knowes what they should do)

But their all...off

At first it was nothing unexplainable, sharp teeth, glowing eyes, their a bit stronger nothing too out of the ordinary

Then they see jack and maddie fenton and they want to run

They look so...freaky

Their obsession with ghosts, their big personality, their technology and obviously stronger physical abilities, those two alone made them want to forget their car and run out of town...

Then they saw their kids, dannys eyes look like he's trying to eat their souls, And jazz was 7.5 feet tall.

They got in their car and drove as fast as they could, and on their way out they saw more things that unsetteled them, like the teenager moving a car instead of a tow truck, and the kid talking to his watch...and the FLOATING ROBOT IN THE SKY

they got out of amity park so fast people were asking what the problem was.

[spiritmadeofstars]

Something to live for, someone to die for  (Lokixfem!Reader) CH 6 [on-going]

Summary: Maybe we should learn more about the artifact, what do you think?

NO use of Y/N, instead “you” and using a nickname

Warnings: violence, blood, torture, adult themes in later chapters, 18+ (warnings and tags to be added) Read at your own risk, eh?

AO3 link • chapter 1 • chapter 2 • chapter 3 • chapter 4 • chapter 5

Chapter 6 - Tick, tick... boom?

“A visitor?” You rose an eyebrow at him. Silas just left, so who could come for a visit?

  “Yes. An acquaintance.” You wondered if Loki had anyone he could call a friend. Probably not. He did not seem the kind of person to keep anyone close. A good thing. A person like him would bring hell to the universe if someone he cared for was hurt. “She came to aid me with the artifact. I expect you to be good.” He said as if he was talking to an unruly pet.

  A moment later a beautiful woman entered, dressed in a typical Asgardian attire as far as you could tell. She looked like a royalty, and carried herself like a queen.

  “Is this the Midgardian?” She asked Loki and he motioned for her to approach you. You were mesmerized by her beauty, but as she came closer, you noticed a wicked spark in her yes. Goosebumps spread through your skin. “Lovely.” She called you.

  “So, is it really inside her?” Loki asked. The beautiful woman reached for your hands and you let her touch you, unable to protest. As if you were under her spell.

  “Oh, most definitely.”

  “Can you extract it?”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint, but no.”

  “Fuck.” Loki whispered and the woman giggled.

  “You have been hiding on Midgard for too long. Seems you have picked up some unimpressive language.”

  “Oh, go to hell, Vaienna.”

  “I’m sorry, Loki, but there’s no way to get it out by force. And, you know it’s all just theory. She may not be able to give it up of her own will either.”

  You sat there, silently listening, as if the conversation was not about you. You and the thing inside you. You wanted to ask something, but the moment you thought of it, your mind went blank.

  “What should I do?” They both stood in front of you, just a few steps away, but their voice sounded from a great distance.

  “Your healer said to give her time, no?”

  “I don’t have time!” He roared.

  “Don’t give me such attitude! It’s not my fault this happened.” Loki turned his back to her and she reached out, grasping his shoulder in a gentle way. “Loki, I know, but you have to give her time. You must, if you want to use the artifact. And you should treat her better, if she becomes unstable, she could ruin us all.”

  “What?” You managed a whisper and they both turned to you. Loki had a puzzled look on his face, as if he did not expect you to be able to talk.

  “Perhaps we should talk outside.” Vaienna said and turned to go.

  “Please.” Speaking felt like swimming through a pool of honey. Despite your pleas, they both quickly left the room, the click of the door sounded incredibly loud.

  You were reminded of a childhood memory. You and your grandmother were in an antique store, she was looking at old porcelain dolls, and all you could think of was how terrifying it would be to be trapped in a body of one, unable to move. Your mother often scolded your father for allowing you to watch horror movies with him.

  Now you felt like such a doll and could feel yourself panicking. You were unable to move, unable to think properly.

  It felt like hours had passed when the door opened again.

  “How did you do it?” Loki asked. You wanted to respond, ask what he meant and what the ominous conversation he and his acquaintance had was supposed to mean, but you did not manage to even look at him. “Birdie?” a hint of alarm coloured your name. He appeared in front of your face, his confused stare boring into yours.

  His hands were suddenly on your face, touching your cheeks, your forehead. “Is this that brain of yours?” He said with annoyance. He stood up and suddenly you were being picked up. A thought of Solas crossed your mind, hoping for a healing drink or a calming bath, instead you were placed on a bed just seconds later. Still in Loki’s room.

  Your breathing picked up, but it felt as if your lungs were refusing oxygen. You wanted to close your eyes and let the darkness take you, but the cold hands found their way to your face again.

  “You’re making me mad, Midgardian, don’t make me punish you.” You wanted to crack a smile, the hint of panic in his voice felt too hilarious. “Is it funny to you? Well, I’m glad you’re still in there, though now you are the one who looks utterly mad.”

  Why was he talking to you so much? And what was happening? And why were you burning up from the inside? What had he done to you? You frowned, hoping to make your anger at him visible.

  “This is not my fault. Well, at least I think so. But I will try to help you, relax.”

  Loki put a palm over your eyes, forcing you to close them. You felt little prickles on your eyelids and your cheeks. You did not know you could actually feel magic in such a way. Loki’s voice sounded far away again, he was mumbling something. You remembered the broken porcelain doll next to the others in the antique store. Its parts were being sold for repairs.

  ….

  “I still don’t understand what happened.” Loki said.

  “I don’t think it was her brain, you said you did nothing that could trigger such a response.” Solas replied.

  “I did not. We talked, then Vaienna came and so I put a freeze spell on her. I did not want her to act out.”

  “Nor to hear your conversation, I presume.” Solas added.

  “Yes.”

  “Is the artifact so dangerous?” Solas asked with genuine curiosity.

  “Probably. I have no idea, there’s so little we know still.”

  “Is it worth it?”

  “It is to me.”

  “She is waking up.” Solas said as his eyes noticed yours starting to flutter. He was at your side in an instant, checking you. “You scared us.” He smiled at you.

  “I was scared, too.” You whispered. “What happened?”

  “We don’t know. Has this ever hapenned to you?” Loki jumped in.

  “No, never.”

  “Were you aware of when Vaienna came into the room?”

  “Yes, but I could not move or think.”

  “This has never happened with my spell before. It must be the artifact.” Loki concluded.

  “Most likely explanation. I have nothing to do here. I’ll leave the potion, just in case.” It looked as if Silas wanted to be gone as soon as possible.

  You looked at Loki who seemed to be lost in thought. He was playing with fire he did not know how to extinguish.

  “Can you be honest with me?” You started to realize you were in Loki’s bed, you were glad he did not put you back inside the cage. After the thoughts of the dolls you felt trapped enough in your own body. “You don’t have to be friendly, nor kind. Just tell me what I’m dealing with.” Loki looked at you and the ice in his eyes thawed a little.

  “I told you, the artifact is old and powerful-”

  “And opens portals to another universes. Yes, I get that. But what does it mean for me? Is it dangerous?”

  “If I told you one wrong move could wipe out the entire universe would you kill yourself?” He challenged. You looked away and took a moment to think.

  “I am not afraid of death.”

  “You are afraid of pain.” He added and you wondered if he knew when he was hurting you before. Probably yes.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Not to me.” As if it needed to be said. “Yes, the artifact is dangerous and could cause a lot of damage. But I will not allow you to ruin my plan, so you don’t even need to think about trying to end yourself.”

  “Are you using your magic to keep me alive at all cost?”

  “Yes.” The revelation made you feel… weird. But it was important. If the opportunity was right, Loki could be distracted by trying to keep you alive, and in the moment you could perhaps kill him. How hard can it be to kill a god?

  “How long was I out?”

  “Only an hour or so.” It all felt as if it took days. “You were unresponsive, I calmed you down and called Solas. I thought your injury caused this, but I think it was the artifact fighting my spell.”

  “I am so confused by all this.” You sighed. “Why did I have to touch the thing… wait.” You sat up, suddenly realizing you were not a soul trapped inside a doll. “Other people must have touched it before me, why is it inside of me?” Loki frowned.

  “I hoped Vaienna would tell me that. A ritual was supposed to happen in order to use the artifact. Something must have triggered it.”

  “So you are planning to use a thing for something and you don’t even know how to operate it?!” Suddenly you were angry at Loki for being so irresponsible. Did being a villain mean that you needed to be stupid first?

  “Listen little mortal! This should be none of your business, but you just had to be the little hero and stick your nose where is does not belong. I wanted to learn to use it, but I did not get the chance!That thing is dangerous and you should be glad it’s not on Earth anymore. You should thank me for not leaving you, a ticking bomb, to kill everyone you’ve ever known!” Loki shouted at you and jabbed his finger in your shoulder. He was angry and maybe he had every right.

  You were just doing your job of being a little hero, but you thought you were dealing with thievery, not something like this. If you had known it was so dangerous, would you have gone inside? You have not been a hero for that long yet. You have not been courageous for that long yet, either.

  “Thank you, Loki.” You said sweetly. “You saved the Earth, maybe they should all kneel to you now. Maybe I should be the first to do so.” You pulled yourself up to you knees, but you were still on the bed, so you were almost face to face with Loki. He looked surprised, but a satisfied grin appeared on his face. “Let’s just hope the ticking bomb won’t blow up in your face.”

[pinkseas]

[parasocial bestie] VENTI MY BELOVED WE ARE SHAKING HANDS WE ARE CRYING i barely rmb how it goes anymore but hes. still such a comfort 2 me and uehrghshhdjhf anyway answerimg dat respons,..

"they could have such little conversations that even for a short time could bring his mind away from the exhaustive pain that is Everything Else"  like REAL SHT THATS WHAT IM GETTING AT,... for the ppl who had been caring for him and talked directly even if theres a few. id sorta think zhongli doesnt rlly allow ppl to visit xiao for the sake of not overwhelming him with guilt, and the only healer that came for rare check ups directly being madame ping and zhongli usually go straight to the pharmacy for more advice. not even bringing qiqi or baizhu along too. he knows xiao well enough not to have a lot of visitors no matter how Worried they are bc xiao doesnt worry for himself even in this condition, why bother when he doesnt even, cant even, walk out of the inn.

i got a lil scene abt that but like YEAH PAIMON?? paimon is so great in theory and to me when it comes to her in-game i just go entirely on my theory and Selectively Read her dialogs anyway whatever feels like its My paimon i do that KFHSHDHDH despite her being the most talkative character Ever she rlly deserves more than sumkind of hyv scapegoat fr and theres way too much unwarranted hate even on harmless scenes bc the game dialogs and text alwsys gets lost in translation and en voice acting. can be misleading than the og cn too. cn paimon is the most chill ever. id like to think paimon in this brainrot tho,.. and how i interpret my paimon in general shes still a lil childish but in a good way without those annoying lines amd if she has it she learns. and xiao over time has a soft spot for her like he does to other kids. lil pai pai nugget actually. ive had lumine hold her like a plushie sometimes.

anwyay back 2 brainrot [idm published but this makes me shy again uhehe] she's that lil spark in the weeks when xiao is asleep bc of that blunt innocence she naturally has, and lumine zhongli sometimes find it hard to escape their own thoughts everytime they see xiao on bed unmoving. its depressing its still worrying despite it being a form of recovery, and venti's flute already stitched the most grave of wounds. "but people who know xiao, whether just barely or through zhongli speaking of him or through lumine speaking of him, wishing him well sending regards and how does that make any sense? that those who know so little about him would care that he gets better?" u see like, i had this cute but sad scene once that since zhongli doesnt allow too many visitors but ppl have also caught on when lumine sees Other People once in a while esp when she can only roam in liyue (whether usual traveler stuff, or she has a hand in the exorcist family duty of helping in the fallen conquerer of demons' stead after the incident) they sense that grief and asked, and it doesnt take a lot to connect the dots regarding the incident bc ppl know abt that demonic presence but only a few can guess its xiao too.

and taking that message, and out of respect knowing xiao would feel even more guilty to be visited, sends their well wishes their own way. occassionally during pre-awakening, they get letters and gifts at the inn. short get well messages. herbal tea. adeptal medicine recipes. lots, and lots of flowers from both the qixing and adepti. they had to make use of the flowers somehow before it wilts, and paimon had the idea of weaving it to crowns. she fails once, at lumine's amusement, fails twice, and a few more times until she manages a sloppy looking once out of liyue's flowers. who's it going to be for then? her traveler partner would ask halfway through a perfect crown of her own. well, guess! but not a single smug one is correct, not the inn staff not the boss lady not even herself or zhongli. surprise surprise; the first to get the honors is xiao, as the activity was done on the very bed he sleeps so he can 'have fun' too. paimon proudly, but also so gentle and careful, puts the crown as if it and xiao would break under the gesture. he looks pretty. he looks serene, if one can take away the eyebags and slow breathing and unmoving fingers and bandages lightly decorated around him. he's pretty for his own good, even in slumber. lumine chuckles at the whole deal, but she wasnt sure out the amusement or that shes touched of the ideas her companion does that doesnt feel too much and genuinely lighting up such a dull day.

her voice cracks. she didnt mean to, she didnt mean to be sad all over again when paimon made a happy decision amidst it all. xiao has such pretty flowers on his head that paimon tried her hardest to make and he still hasnt fucking woke up, people have been gifting have been writing good wishes have brought zhongli to smile once in a while and she knows he's grieving with the way the older god can still break on his own personal guilt she'll never know completely and he still hasnt fucking woke up. its a simple mess that brings her down under, and shes back to remembering the incident again. paimon knew, she always notices, always watching throughout the week, brings a flower next to the inteyvats that still adorned her head, and tells her traveler partner. hey. paimon can make another one for you too. lets use all the flowers for everyone, so it has a use and doesnt die without it. xiao would always say what's the use of mortal gifts and we're using it!

and they proceed to make use of every single one, and every staff of the inn wears one for the whole day; like a sign of a special time everything is still okay.

"id sorta think zhongli doesnt rlly allow ppl to visit xiao for the sake of not overwhelming him with guilt, and the only healer that came for rare check ups directly being madame ping and zhongli usually go straight to the pharmacy for more advice. not even bringing qiqi or baizhu along too. he knows xiao well enough not to have a lot of visitors no matter how Worried they are bc xiao doesnt worry for himself even in this condition" this is SO OUCHIE !!!!!!!!!!!! but also so fucking correct, zhongli Knows him far too well to let visitors in. itd probably be really fucking uncomfortable for xiao tbh? unable to understand any of the worry and being overwhelmed by all these people who DO worry and express care and concern, unable to reconcile that with his own emotions like Why does it matter to you im useless right now i cant do anything why bother? madame ping being the only healer also makes SO much sense and is so good i love that...

"and how i interpret my paimon in general shes still a lil childish but in a good way without those annoying lines amd if she has it she learns. and xiao over time has a soft spot for her like he does to other kids. lil pai pai nugget actually. ive had lumine hold her like a plushie sometimes." I LOVE THIS SO BADDDDDDDDDDDDD childish in a good way is SO real like god, and xiao having a soft spot for her ohhh my god. okay so like. not to Totally talk abt smth else but. one of my FAVORITE games from when i was really little is called dust: an elysian tail. and the protagonist is kinda serious but also friendly and MAD powerful and has no memory of who he was before, and!!! he has!!! a small flying companion who acts as his guide through the world and people often refer to as a toy or a mascot. her name is fidget. and her fandom treatment is HORRIFIC from what little ive seen but. but. ingame. their dynamic is EVERYTHING i wish paimon and the traveler had. dust is kind to her, they argue a little bit sometimes because they dont always understand each other but fidget grows really close to him, she has SO much faith in him even when he lacks faith in himself, she pulls him back when his mind starts to get to him, she's always there by his side stays there even in battles because her magic is really weak but dusts own abilities are able to make use of an amplify it. they're a team !!! they're a genuine team. there's a point where they try SO hard and they save this town but a sick character they were really trying to help in doing that still dies, and fidget is a bit younger a bit more naive and it REALLY gets to her. like. "but we did everything we were supposed to do..." not understanding how he still passed when they did everything right. and dust just kind of quietly has to tell her how sometimes even that isnt enough. and they learn SO much from each other and its just !!!!! fidget is treated like her own character, not a mascot or a scapegoat, and its SO good, and i think of them every time i think about the traveler and paimon its unreal. that's the treatment paimon deserves she should be a teammate and a person and a guide not. That.

"she's that lil spark in the weeks when xiao is asleep bc of that blunt innocence she naturally has" NO BC THIS IS SO GOOD even when zhongli and lumine are getting caught up in their own heads and are down and upset and unable to muster too much energy, paimon being able to focus on the simple stuff making sure they're still taking care of themselves staying more positive and cheerful and being blunt !!! telling them outright at somepoint that they're wallowing and that wont do xiao any good, and he'd scold them if he saw them like this, too, so they should get up and do something etc etc man. Man.

and PEOPLE SENDING THEIR WELL WISHES TO THE INN OR THROUGH LUMINE........ god that's so. herbal tea medicine recipes....... crying shaking sobbing.

"and lots of flowers from both the qixing and adepti. they had to make use of the flowers somehow before it wilts, and paimon had the idea of weaving it to crowns. she fails once, at lumine's amusement, fails twice, and a few more times until she manages a sloppy looking once out of liyue's flowers. who's it going to be for then? her traveler partner would ask halfway through a perfect crown of her own. well, guess! but not a single smug one is correct, not the inn staff not the boss lady not even herself or zhongli. surprise surprise; the first to get the honors is xiao, as the activity was done on the very bed he sleeps so he can 'have fun' too. paimon proudly, but also so gentle and careful, puts the crown as if it and xiao would break under the gesture. he looks pretty. he looks serene, if one can take away the eyebags and slow breathing and unmoving fingers and bandages lightly decorated around him." CRYING SHAKING SOBBING. thinks about xiao just sort of idk. Caring the way that he does, acknowledging paimon in the way not everyone does and making sure she's not hurt after bigger fights and ensuring her safety and paimon caring about him sm in return wanting him to get better wanting him to have that first successful crown, working so hard over and over again to get it right so that he can wear it. god.

something about the grief lumine feels, all the gifts theyve gotten all the mourning theyve done all the hardship and the effort and through it all xiao still isnt awake, that hits SO fucking hard. god.

"and tells her traveler partner. hey. paimon can make another one for you too. lets use all the flowers for everyone, so it has a use and doesnt die without it. xiao would always say what's the use of mortal gifts and we're using it! and they proceed to make use of every single one, and every staff of the inn wears one for the whole day; like a sign of a special time everything is still okay." THE ENTIRE STAFF WEARING THE FLOWER CROWNS...... explodes and dies. handing out crowns to the staff and the people staying there and those just stopping by and the kitchen and the children and and and. some confused some grateful some knowing all accepting, all wearing them

[plainlo-inthemorning]

A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 5

He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.

He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.

But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.

Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.

The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.

Another him. Just as the man had said.

After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.

But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.

The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.

With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.

He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.

He should have caught him!

“Loki! What did he say?!”

“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.

“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”

Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.

That thing kissed her.

The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.

So does Jane, of course.

“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “

She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.

“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”

Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.

“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.

Loki shakes his head slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.

“You’re right, I didn’t”.

All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.

Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.

Tony, however, groans loudly.

“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”

“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.

Strange ignores him.

“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.

As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.

Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.

“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.

Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.

“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.

Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.

“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”

Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.

He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.

Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.

Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.

“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.

“Tony-“

“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.

Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.

And attacking a city with an alien army.

Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.

“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.

Loki draws in a deep breath.

“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“

“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.

Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.

“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“

Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.

“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.

He has Tony’s full attention.

“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”

Loki winces.

“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”

Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.

Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.

“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”

“Who’s-“

“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”

Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.

“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.

Tony shakes his head.

“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.

//

The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.

“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.

He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.

Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.

He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.

Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.

Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.

“We need to talk. Now”.

Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.

He squeezes back. “Come”.

Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.

Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.

“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.

“In a minute”.

Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.

She closes the door behind them.

“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“

“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.

She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.

Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.

He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.

Jane studies his face.

“That he was sorry? For what?”

“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.

Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.

“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”

Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.

“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”

“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“

“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”

“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“

Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.

“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”

The door to the living room opens behind them.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.

Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.

Part 6

[regrettablewritings]

If there's still a slot left, I would like to request some for Cassian: who makes the other eat breaskfast, who brings up having kids, and who takes care on sick days please?

Sure, you got in just in time! (Though wow we do be lovin’ a domestic Cassian, huh?)

Takes care of the other on sick days: Cassian claims to not get sick. You don’t know how true this actually is, but you’re almost certain it’s bullshit and the only reason K2 hasn’t officially spilled the beans is because maybe Cassian did something to his wiring to assure he couldn’t. Admittedly, that last bit is probably an exaggeration, but the point still stands: There’s just no way that a human, mortal captain, surrounded by and constantly in close contact with other beings and also frequently traveling all over The Maker’s vast space, couldn’t get sick. Chances mostly were that, in his stubbornness, he refused proper bed rest whenever he got struck by a common cold and would push himself to perform. Maybe he feared that allowing himself rest would be perceived as a sign of weakness. Maybe he was afraid that by letting himself embrace such a sorry state, he’d be letting his team down. But heaven forbid you pull any of that shit. It’s hard to see Cassian Andor as the mother hen-type (especially when in comparison to Bodhi), but that didn’t mean that traces of it weren’t there. Sure, he wasn’t the obvious type to usher you off the training field or out of the X-Wing hangar from the first moment you sneezed -- he wants to trust your judgement; you know your body better than anyone would. But if any symptoms of any known-illness persists, he’ll keep an eye on you. And if you don’t go to the infirmary for it as time goes on, then don’t worry: He’ll make sure you do. You could be in the middle of training, stance weak and body sweating despite having barely done anything worth working up a sweat over, and he’ll stop you immediately before ordering you to go get yourself checked. Do not argue with him unless you are prepared to receive an icy stare from those dark eyes of his. He’ll argue that they can’t have you wandering around, putting others at risk (which, to be fair, isn’t an improper claim to make no matter how minute the sickness), but it’s honestly more to the point that he hates seeing you even the slightest bit unwell. Once his tasks are completed (heck, maybe he’ll even put them on hold), he wastes no time visiting you in the infirmary or your sleeping quarters depending on where it’s been decidedly best you’d be placed in. Even if the flu is contagious and the nurse droids insist he keep his distance, Cassian won’t hesitate to shoot them a look before taking a seat next to your resting form, affirming his own decision. He’s actually not a bad visitor to have: If you’re running a fever, he’ll assist the medics in dabbing you with a wet cloth; if you need medicine or a shot administered, he’ll easily get you to accept it or even distract you so that it can be carried out quicker; if food from the mess hall is permitted in your state, he brings you some and makes sure you eat it. And sometimes he just sticks around to make sure you’re breathing properly while you sleep. All in all, he may not necessarily be technically taking care of you, depending on how you use the phrase, but Cassian is most certainly making sure that you are on the fast-track to recovery every single time you fall ill. Your health is not something to be played with. Period.

Makes the other eat breakfast: As stated before, Cassian is more of a mother hen than he lets in on --   even though it’s pretty obvious after a point. He can claim that his   concern isn’t really concern and that he’s just performing his duty as a  captain by making sure your nerf-herding ass isn’t undernourished and thus making it a problem for everyone else. And it’s not the untruth, but it it isn’t the entire truth.   He is well aware that the rations provided aren’t exactly a delicacy on any planet. And he knows that you may find it a bit more difficult to eat first thing in the morning, when everything feels way too rich and heavy for your liking. But he’s also aware that you need to keep up whatever strength you have because it ties in with making sure you stay safe. And like hell you survive recon missions gone wrong, dog fights, and explosions only to somehow be taken out due to lack of vitamins. (Yes, that’s a bit of a jump to make but you get the idea!) He really tries not to make it come across as a stern parent demanding that their kid eat their veggies or what have you. But there are very few other vibes to give off when you’re telling your significant other in a firm voice that they need to finish eating their protein pudding “or else sparring today was going to make them see the other side.” You can pout all you want but in the long run, you do appreciate his attention to your well-being -- even if it comes at the cost of you forcing yourself to swallow a glob of what is supposed to be potassium-rich something-or-other just so you don’t cramp up running any time soon.

Brings up having kids: Personally, you’re honestly neither here nor there about actually having kids, but you’re the first to really try and talk about it. Frankly, the idea of having kids even in a post-war scenario is such a big step for you that it seems almost surreal even as a theory. But you suppose it couldn’t hurt to try and gauge Cassian’s feelings about. After all, communication is important for a healthy relationship, even when one half of said relationship isn’t exactly the most talkative or expressive person around. You don’t really expect Cassian to say much on the matter, which is pretty good because he actually doesn’t really know where he really stands on it when you first bring it up. All he knows is that inside, flurry of thoughts are bumping into one another in a seemingly endless storms of “if so”s and “then that”s and “what if”s. The main problem being that the mindset that accompanies nearly everything for him (that is, the one that was born from the fact that his entire life has revolved around war) has somewhat tainted even the most positive of his thoughts. For one, he didn’t want to bring a child into a world where they could get hurt. Specifically, one where war or differing extremes could so much as rip them out of his life. Cassian wasn’t one to play optimistic: He knew far too well that even if he lived to see the end of this war, there was no guarantee everyone would remain calm enough to keep the peace. So it would seem safe to say that he probably just didn’t want kids. At first. Ask him again a year and a half from then, and his answer’s evolved some. You can chalk it up to him allowing the tiniest sliver of hope inside of him instead of rage and duty: He truly began to wonder in optimism if you could truly win this war. Sure, some of those worries he had before would continue to ring true, but the possibility of living in a future where peace was possible began to feel more and more observable. And in those brief sparks of hope and optimism, he thought he could see flashes of a domestic life with you. He saw the home and the bed the two of you would share a lot clearer than any vision of children, mind you, but it was certainly stronger than what he’d had before. Interestingly, it wasn’t when you asked him a third or fourth time that Cassian could see children in those slips of a theoretical future. The war hadn’t even been won yet, though Mon insisted that it was surely near, judging by communications with the Princess of Alderaan. But there was just something so relaxing about the moment, what with you dozing off, head on his shoulder as the two of you decided to sleep under the stars for the evening. This wasn’t the first time the two of you had done this, mind you, so he really didn’t know what possessed his subconscious to deem this moment any different, let alone different enough to leave him deciding that yes, maybe he would like to start a family with you some day. The stars were the same, the constellations were there like always, he could hear the sounds of X-Wings and other such crafts taking off and landing as well as indistinct talking and beeping and all the other sorts of noises the two of you had grown accustomed to on base. Really, the only thing that might’ve made a difference was that darned feeling of hope he’d allowed to let flourish in him. Dumb optimism. A liking for the idea of getting to be with you in one of the ultimate expressions one can, of creating a manifestation of your love for each other together and raising them to be the good he only wished he could be, and to see them become their own beautiful and beloved person -- He almost wanted to laugh at himself. Or scold himself. Whatever he deserved for thinking so inexplicably gushily. Well, whatever the case, he wouldn’t tell you any of this. . . . Okay, maybe a little bit of it. But certainly not all of it. Maybe if you wanted to talk more about it. He would never admit that in his visions, your child would have your eyes and beautiful smile, though.

Thank you for asking and thank you for your patience!!!

[first-and-last-neocount]

Whumptober Day 6

While still falling under the definition of whump, I intentionally aimed for something a little less soul-crushing this time, since I figured I would be evoking some Feels with that last one. XD 

This one isn’t directly tied to anything else, and it shouldn’t be so heart-wrenching; it’s just me projecting pandemic feels all over poor Damien, because I’m an introvert who isn’t physically affectionate with more than a handful of my closest friends anyway, but even I really felt it when we all had to go months on end without touching another human being. Not fun, dude. 

Day 6 - Theme Chosen: Touch starved

Theoretically, it should never have happened. With the way their journey had gone so far, when he thought about it, Damien was almost surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

Trapped aboard the God's Glory for months on end, isolated from the crew by their enduring wariness of the Hunter and his companions, unable to hasten their progress and weighed down by the growing fear of what would be waiting for them when they made landfall again, Damien was slowly driving himself insane. With every day that passed, the knot of frustration and dread pulled tighter in his gut. His temper shortened in response, and by now he had grown so tense and snappish that he couldn't even blame the crew's avoidance of him entirely on Tarrant; he knew he wasn't exactly great company anymore.

The death of the girl from the Eastern Continent had only worsened his already foul mood. The toxic mixture of guilt, resentment, and panic that had filled him upon realizing what her death meant – that he himself would have to go back to feeding his dark companion, at least until they made landfall in Faraday – still lingered, even though it had been two days since Sisa's suicide. He'd been given those two days as a grace period, time to mentally prepare himself as best he could, but the Hunter had given him clear warning; tonight, the nightmares would start again.

All of this meant that, when Damien laid down in his bunk that night, he was wound tighter than a springbolt at full draw. He had fully expected the turmoil in his mind to keep him up for hours, but with the forced inactivity of being at sea came a paradoxical lethargy, and he wasn't alone with his circling thoughts for more than an hour or so before he gradually sank into an uneasy slumber.

The dreams came almost at once.

Vivid as all the Hunter's carefully-woven nightmares were, Damien could feel the awful wrenching shudder that went through the ship as the hull ground onto the unforgiving rocks, hear the shattering of wood and the screech of metal as they collided with the outcropping of black stone that had been masked by the thick fog lying over the turbulent waves. Terror ran like acid through his veins as the deck tilted under his feet, the ship listing badly as water flooded through the gaping hole in the bow; he grasped the rail to keep himself upright, the screams of the crew ringing in his ears – but as he stared down into the churning black ocean, something sparked in the back of his mind.

The dark waves. Drowning. A girl.

Sisa.

His awareness that it was a dream blended with the hot spike of rage at the thought of another innocent life lost to the Hunter's insatiable hunger, and the scene around him shattered like glass. The deck was level again, the ocean calm; the stars glimmered down from a cloudless night sky, the ship deathly quiet and seemingly deserted around him.

You're resistant tonight.

The Hunter's voice slithered through his mind, soft and thoughtful, edged with hunger – and reality bent around him once more.

The village of the Terata. The hideous corruption that had lurked beneath its veneer of normalcy. The acid sting of desperation in the air as the villagers made their supplication to their sadistic god. The illusion of childhood's innocence, and the terrible reality that it hid -

But the sight of the children made Damien's thoughts turn to Jenseny, and the grief that rose up and choked him was so strong that it nearly brought him awake, a cry of pain catching in his throat as the image of the village dissolved around him. Tarrant's will wrapped around him and pulled him back under, an almost soothing tenor to the thread of fae that stroked his mind.

Too raw, still. Perhaps...

Another shift, then another. Scenes of terror from Damien's memories, or half-formed fears of the future, woven into shape by Tarrant's power. Every vista that presented itself, though, Damien fought against; though his awareness of what was happening was subsumed at the beginning of each dream, his mind rebelled continuously, breaking through to lucidity each time and shredding the delicate fabric of the nightmare in the process. As one dreamscape dissolved and reformed into another, there was a moment where Damien surfaced enough to actually feel a bit guilty; he'd agreed to this deal after all, once in the rakhlands and again after Sisa had killed herself, and he didn't even know why his mind refused to settle enough to be fully immersed in any of the scenarios Tarrant was weaving.

That moment stretched as he lingered in unformed darkness, as though the Hunter had hesitated. Finally, new scenery shimmered into being. Still caught in that state of half-awareness, Damien watched the dream come to life around him, willing himself to just let go and fall into it -

The chamber that formed around him was the throne room of the Undying Prince's citadel.

Nothing else had taken shape yet. There was no time for it. Before any figures could form, before a single sound had echoed through the room, Damien's mind spun out of control. The terror he'd felt, realizing that he was once again powerless before a mortal tyrant with the power of a sadistic demon backing them; the utter grief that had devastated him when he realized that Jenseny was gone; the gutting betrayal of believing that the Hunter had betrayed them; the sheer blinding fear, realizing that Tarrant had still been an ally after all, and that he might pay for that with his life before Damien could reach him -

Damien snapped awake violently, breathing so hard that his chest ached and the room spun violently around him, nausea thick in his throat and his skin drenched in ice-cold sweat. He sat bolt upright in his bunk, clenching fistfuls of his sheets with shaking hands as he stared blindly at the wall of his cabin, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Before he had even coaxed his breathing back to something resembling a normal rate, there was a firm but quiet knock at his door.

Damien let his head fall forward, biting out a soft curse under his breath. It didn't take much luck to guess who would be knocking at his door at this hour – he was fairly sure he hadn't actually cried out aloud when he'd catapulted himself back into wakefulness, which meant there was only one other person likely to even be awake right now.

“Come in,” he said hoarsely.

The door opened, then clicked shut again. Damien didn't look up, his gaze still fixed on the crumpled bedclothes he was gripping with white knuckles, but he didn't need to visually confirm the identity of his visitor; he could feel the shift in the air, that insidious chill that the Hunter wore like a shroud. Swallowing back the bile that still roiled in his throat, Damien beat back his pride enough to offer a quiet apology.

“Sorry. I didn't do that on purpose. I don't know why I couldn't just...”

“I could hazard a guess.”

Startled, Damien finally looked up. Tarrant had stopped only a couple feet away, and was leaning against the cabin wall with his arms folded across his chest, regarding Damien thoughtfully. Despite the lack of hostility, the Knight still shivered a little under the scrutiny of those cold silver eyes. Cocking an eyebrow questioningly, he stared back at the adept.

“Alright, then. Let's hear it.”

Of course, the Hunter couldn't simply state his theory. He studied Damien a moment longer, then murmured, “You haven't been sleeping well, have you? Even before tonight.”

Damien frowned at him. “Not particularly, no. Why?”

“You're unable to settle yourself. You've been sleeping poorly, your mind is in turmoil, and don't think I haven't noticed your shortness with the crew – or forgotten your outburst the other day.” Damien winced a little at the reminder of how he'd blown up at the Hunter immediately after Sisa's suicide, but there was no judgement in the adept's tone or expression, only contemplation. “You don't have any close connections to most of those aboard, and if you'll forgive me the observation, you don't have an... intimate companion, this time around.”

Damien was drawing a breath to snap at the Hunter that he didn't see how, exactly, his relationship with Raysa was any of the adept's damn business – when it abruptly clicked in his head, and he deflated, staring at the adept.

“You're blaming touch starvation.” The words came out flat, more statement than question but tinged with disbelief. When Tarrant inclined his head slightly, Damien huffed out a humourless chuckle. “You can't be serious.”

“Why not?” Tarrant asked coolly, his gaze still locked on Damien, piercing and assessing. “It's a scientifically documented phenomenon. We've been at sea for months, and I doubt you've had more contact than accidentally brushing arms with one of the crew since we set sail. The common symptoms are irritability, anxiety, and depression. It strikes me as an entirely likely explanation.”

“Fine, then what the hell do you suggest I do about it?” Damien snapped, hating himself as he did so, because his fuse had never been so short and by the look on Tarrant's face he knew it too. “In case you failed to notice or give a damn, Rasya's dead, and I don't exactly have a long lineup of friends at hand to hug it out with. I guess you're just going to have to work a bit harder for your dinner.”

Tarrant's face had gone utterly blank for a moment at the mention of Rasya's name, and for a split second Damien wondered almost hysterically if he actually had forgotten – but the horrified thought was cut off when the adept said, in a tone as bland as one might use to discuss the weather, “There's another option.”

Damien stared at him for a moment. Tarrant gazed back, unruffled. Finally, the Knight said slowly, “Now I know you're definitely just messing with my head. You're not suggesting what it sounds like you're suggesting.”

“No need to look quite so scandalized, Vryce, I'm hardly propositioning you,” Tarrant said dryly, his tone infuriatingly amused. “You're correct, however, that skin contact is the only cure and your options in that department are limited. If you'd like, I certainly could continue mentally assaulting you for sustenance – you were undeniably producing enough terror and distress earlier, though I suspect you'll find that sort of feeding even more exhausting that the usual method, and I'll have to draw from you more frequently to compensate for the additional effort I'm expending.” He watched Damien pale, then quirked one fair eyebrow up, mouth twisting into a rare, wry grin. “Or, you could budge over a few inches.”

Damien hesitated for a moment longer; then, he groaned and shuffled himself sideways, pressing closer to the wall and leaving the outer edge of the bunk free.

“I hate you,” he announced flatly, watching the adept prowl gracefully across the small cabin toward him.

“Your feelings have been noted, Reverend.” In a few smooth movements Tarrant had kicked off his boots, slid his long frame elegantly onto the bunk, and reached out; caught completely off guard by the manhandling, Damien let himself be tugged almost effortlessly down and arranged to the Hunter's liking. He found himself facing the wall, a lean form pressed close against his back and one of the adept's arms a cool weight draped across his side. “Now get some sleep.”

A thousand replies crowded to the front of Damien's mind, but sheer confusion stayed his tongue from a sharp retort. As the initial shock faded, he realized how incredibly comfortable he actually was. He had certainly missed the weight of another body in bed with him over the last months; he had rarely slept alone since reaching adulthood, since he had almost continuously been in a relationship of one degree of seriousness or another and had always been the type to stay the night. He usually slept by himself only when he was travelling, and that had never been for as long a stretch of time as this voyage. Finding himself as the proverbial little spoon was considerably more novel, Damien's senses jangling a bit at the strangeness of being the one held instead of the one holding another – but as his instincts accepted that he was not in fact in any danger and relaxed, he found himself almost unwilling comforted. He could feel the Hunter breathing steadily against his back, and the deceptively human sensation unwound tension in his shoulders that Damien hadn't even known he had been carrying. Even though the adept's body was considerably cooler than a mortal human's would have been, he was still there, and Damien could feel his own skin tingling with a kind of sensory euphoria everywhere that the Hunter's weight rested against him.

Maybe there was something to the touch starvation theory after all, as much as it pained him to admit it.

The window to reply to the Hunter's comment slipped away, and Damien said nothing, just shifted and settled his head a little more comfortably onto the pillow. Tarrant's arm tightened a bit further around his waist, an undeniably grounding pressure, and Damien sighed without meaning to as a tiny panicked voice that had been babbling in the back of his mind for weeks went abruptly, blissfully quiet. He was far from ready to say that this had been a good idea, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to stay this way for a few minutes, let Tarrant think that he'd at least given it a fair shot before he kicked the adept the hell out of his bunk...

Between one breath and the next, Damien fell asleep.

[welllpthisishappening]

Welllp These Are Books: the March 2021 Edition

There aren’t even any pictures! Except in that one book where there were pictures! It was weird! This was a weird book month! Back at it again with thoughts and opinions about a whole mess of books that no one explicitly asked for, but I’ve got lots of thoughts and opinions and they only count if I share them on the internet. Seriously, someone let me go to a baseball game soon. Obligatory warning for spoilers and vaguely unhinged rants under the cut. As always, feel free to come tell me what else I should be reading at literally any time ever.

Best Book of the Month Honors Goes to This Book, Even Though They Called It Halftime at a Hockey Game. A Hockey Game!

The Dating Plan by Sara Desai

Daisy Patel is a software engineer who understands lists and logic better than bosses and boyfriends. With her life all planned out, and no interest in love, the one thing she can't give her family is the marriage they expect. Left with few options, she asks her childhood crush to be her decoy fiancé. Liam Murphy is a venture capitalist with something to prove. When he learns that his inheritance is contingent on being married, he realizes his best friend's little sister has the perfect solution to his problem. A marriage of convenience will get Daisy's matchmaking relatives off her back and fulfill the terms of his late grandfather's will. If only he hadn’t broken her tender teenage heart nine years ago… Sparks fly when Daisy and Liam go on a series of dates to legitimize their fake relationship. Too late, they realize that very little is convenient about their arrangement. History and chemistry aren't about to follow the rules of this engagement.

— Ok, it’s important to know that I really did love this book. It hit all my trope-wants. Childhood friends, incredibly stupid misunderstandings, pining, seriously God the pining, fake engagement, BANTER. It was all going great. I was occasionally swooning. They kept making out! And then! THEN. They went to a hockey game. On a date. A fake date. Cool, cool, cool. All tropes, all the time right? Not so fast, internet! Because these self-proclaimed Sharks SUPER FANS referred to intermission as “halftime was coming up.” Halftime! At a hockey game! That’s—that’s not how hockey works! If this hadn’t been “traditionally” published, I probably could have let it slide. But that was not the case. This was a “real” book with, I can only assume, real editors. All of whom saw the words halftime and hockey near each other and we’re like YEAH, PRINT THAT SHIT. I read that at nearly one in the morning and seriously considered waking Justin up to be like CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS IS IN A REAL BOOK? Anyway, it was still real cute. Everyone lived happily ever after. It made want to eat samosas.

This Book Had Pictures, It Was Weird

Clean Sweep by Ilona Andrews

On the outside, Dina Demille is the epitome of normal. She runs a quaint Victorian Bed and Breakfast in a small Texas town, owns a Shih Tzu named Beast, and is a perfect neighbor, whose biggest problem should be what to serve her guests for breakfast. But Dina is...different:  Her broom is a deadly weapon; her Inn is magic and thinks for itself. Meant to be a lodging for otherworldly visitors, the only permanent guest is a retired Galactic aristocrat who can’t leave the grounds because she’s responsible for the deaths of millions and someone might shoot her on sight. Under the circumstances, "normal" is a bit of a stretch for Dina.

And now, something with wicked claws and deepwater teeth has begun to hunt at night...Feeling responsible for her neighbors, Dina decides to get involved. Before long, she has to juggle dealing with the annoyingly attractive, ex-military, new neighbor, Sean Evans—an alpha-strain werewolf—and the equally arresting cosmic vampire soldier, Arland, while trying to keep her inn and its guests safe. But the enemy she’s facing is unlike anything she’s ever encountered before. It’s smart, vicious, and lethal, and putting herself between this creature and her neighbors might just cost her everything.

— So, Ilona Andrews is a name that keeps coming up because when I borrow a book from the library I have to go through Kindle and Amazon is like...here are some other absurd fantasy romances you’d enjoy. Also, one of her other series had been recc’ed to me. Only problem? The first book in that series is the only book in that series not available at my library. So, I was like, ok, I’ll start this one instead. It was...weird. Honestly, it felt like I’d been dropped in the middle of the story and the narrator was like, well why don’t you already know what’s going on? In theory the world building was cool. (I was not expecting alien werewolves, lemme tell you that!) But also it all felt very rushed and the end just sorta happened.

In Which I Continue to Love “Same Verse” Books & No One Else Had Sex in the Port Jeff High School Dugout. For Which I Was Grateful

Love Her or Lose Her by Tessa Bailey

Rosie and Dominic Vega are the perfect couple: high school sweethearts, best friends, madly in love. Well, they used to be anyway. Now Rosie’s lucky to get a caveman grunt from the ex-soldier every time she walks in the door. Dom is faithful and a great provider, but the man she fell in love with ten years ago is nowhere to be found. When her girlfriends encourage Rosie to demand more out of life and pursue her dream of opening a restaurant, she decides to demand more out of love, too. Three words: marriage boot camp.

Never in a million years did Rosie believe her stoic, too-manly-to-emote husband would actually agree to relationship rehab with a weed-smoking hippie. Dom talking about feelings? Sitting on pillows? Communing with nature? Learning love languages? Nope. But to her surprise, he’s all in, and it forces her to admit her own role in their cracked foundation. As they complete one ridiculous—yet surprisingly helpful—assignment after another, their remodeled relationship gets stronger than ever. Except just as they’re getting back on track, Rosie discovers Dom has a secret... and it could demolish everything.

— Listen, one of my absolutely favorite tropes that I do not think gets enough love in the world is COMMITTED LONG-LASTING RELATIONSHIPS. And, like, ok, sure the premise of this was that they were separating in that long-lasting relationship. But no one really believed that, did they? Rosie and Dominic were real cute and their banter was good and I wasn’t totally skeeved out when they literally fucked on the kitchen floor. So, I think that’s saying something. Also, also! I seriously appreciated the realism of this book because no one on Long Island would ever call Manhattan Manhattan. It’s the city. Every other borough gets a name, but Manhattan is just the city and I nearly cheered when they said that. But also, no one’s taking a cab from Port Jeff to the Meatpacking District. You know what that would cost? God.

Tools of Engagement by Tessa Bailey

Hair, makeup, clothing, decor... everything in Bethany Castle's world is organized, planned, and styled to perfection. Which is why the homes she designs for her family's real estate business are the most coveted in town. The only thing not perfect? Her track record with men. She's on a dating hiatus and after helping her friends achieve their dreams, Bethany finally has time to focus on her own: flip a house, from framework to furnishings, all by herself. Except her older brother runs the company and refuses to take her seriously.

When a television producer gets wind of the Castle sibling rivalry, they’re invited on Flip Off, a competition to see who can do the best renovation. Bethany wants bragging rights, but she needs a crew and the only member of her brother's construction team willing to jump ship is Wes Daniels, the new guy in town. His Texas drawl and handsome face got under Bethany's skin on day one, and the last thing she needs is some cocky young cowboy in her way.

As the race to renovate heats up, Wes and Bethany are forced into close quarters, trading barbs and biting banter as they remodel the ugliest house on the block. It's a labor of love, hate, and everything in between, and soon sparks are flying. But Bethany's perfectly structured life is one kiss away from going up in smoke and she knows falling for a guy like Wes would be a flipping disaster.

— It should first be noted that in the three books of this series, I could not and cannot understand why Bethany’s brother was such a monumental dick. He was just...he was a dick. His marriage was awful. How long was his wife pregnant without him knowing???? I digress. This continued to be cute, Bethany was a legit heroine as far as those rom-com things go, Wes was very Texas and that got a little over the top, but they had sex in a bed like normal people so that helped. Oh, except that one time on the construction site. Whatever, this book was cute. This whole series was cute, really, and I was a big fan of the happy little wrap-everything-up with a bow ending.

Romance That Happens In Point Two Seconds Is...Unbelievable

Too Hot to Handle by Tessa Bailey

The road trip was definitely a bad idea. Having already flambéed her culinary career beyond recognition, Rita Clarkson is now stranded in God-Knows-Where, New Mexico, with a busted-ass car and her three temperamental siblings, who she hasn't seen in years. When rescue shows up---six-feet-plus of hot, charming sex on a motorcycle---Rita's pretty certain she's gone from the frying pan right into the fire . . . Jasper Ellis has a bad boy reputation in this town, and he loathes it. The moment he sees Rita, though, Jasper knows he's about to be sorely tempted. There's something real between them. Something raw. And Jasper has only a few days to show Rita that he isn't just for tonight---he's forever.

— For as much as I loved the Port Jeff series by my new pal Tessa, this one was...oof. Too much, guys. Too much. Fucking in trucks. Fucking in back offices. The whole book lasted, like, three days. And keep in mind this is coming from someone who has written like two million words about Killian Jones, self-loathing champ 250 years running, but Jasper’s self-loathing was a little over the top. Like, let’s not objectify dudes, but also...I don’t know guys. Maybe the other books in the series are better? I was mostly just annoyed by Rita.

What the Hell Happened at the End of This Book?? Seriously, I Have No Idea

The Queen’s Assassin by Melissa de la Cruz

Caledon Holt is the kingdom's deadliest weapon. No one alive can best him in speed, strength, or brains, which is why he's the Hearthstone Guild's most dangerous member. Cal is also the Queen's Assassin, bound to her by magic and unable to leave her service until the task she's set for him is fulfilled. Shadow of the Honey Glade has been training all her life to join the Guild, hoping that one day she'll become an assassin as feared and revered as Cal. But Shadow's mother and aunts expect her to serve the crown as a lady of the Renovian Court. When a surprise attack brings Shadow and Cal together, they're forced to team up as assassin and apprentice. Even though Shadow's life belongs to the court and Cal's belongs to the queen, they cannot deny their attraction to each other. But now, with war on the horizon and true love at risk, Shadow and Cal will uncover a shocking web of lies that will change their paths forever.

—WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED AT THE END OF THIS BOOK??? I figured out the so-called twist like...two chapters in. Fine, ok, whatever. It’s YA, this is not rocket science and I was interested enough in Cale and Shadow to see how it all played out. Only it didn’t really play out! Because the whole end was just this like four chapter retcon of basically EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HAPPENED and I genuinely could not believe it was happening. It didn’t make sense?!? Like with the plot? Also, spoiler, good thing Shadow and the other king haven’t consummated their marriage yet since she and Cale totally fucked after her wedding? What is YA? Why is Amazon telling me this is a Teacher’s Pick? Why hasn’t my hold come through on the sequel yet so I know what happens next?

Low-Stakes Romance Was Real Boring and All The People Were Boring In It

The Ten Rules for Faking It by Sophie Sullivan

As birthdays go, this year’s for radio producer Everly Dean hit rock-bottom. Worse than the “tonsillectomy birthday.” Worse than the birthday her parents decided to split (the first time). But catching your boyfriend cheating on you with his assistant? Even clichés sting. But this is Everly’s year! She won’t let her anxiety hold her back. She’ll pitch her podcast idea to her boss. There’s just one problem. Her boss, Chris, is very cute. (Of course). Also, he's extremely distant (which means he hates her, right? Or is that the anxiety talking)? And, Stacey the DJ didn’t mute the mic during Everly’s rant about Simon the Snake (syn: Cheating Ex). That’s three problems. Suddenly, people are lining up to date her, Bachelorette-style, fans are voting (Reminder: never leave house again), and her interest in Chris might be a two-way street. It’s a lot for a woman who could gold medal in people-avoidance. She’s going to have to fake it ‘till she makes it to get through all of this. Perhaps she’ll make a list: The Ten Rules for Faking It. 

— I am a broken record. Shouting. From the highest hilltop. Just because you think someone is cute when you’re technically not supposed to be dating them does not mean you get to be anything less than nice around them! It’s not cute! And part two, which often goes with part one: rom com dudes have GOT to stop lying or hiding or otherwise avoiding telling people who they really are. It’s a convoluted, passably lazy way of writing and dropping a third-act bomb on the story. Don’t do it. Stop doing it. We’ve moved past the need for hidden identities. Unless he’s, like, a spy or something. Um...this was a weird book. I know Everly had anxiety and that became a PLOT POINT, patent pending, but she was also not super relatable? Which is crazy considering my very real, rather undiagnosed anxiety. Chris was boring. The whole plot, as this title suggests, was very low stakes and no one actually  seemed to remember that their jobs were ever on the line? Did Everly and Chris have a conversation before they decided they liked each other? Who can say, really.

Shipped by Angie Hockman

Between taking night classes for her MBA and her demanding day job at a cruise line, marketing manager Henley Evans barely has time for herself, let alone family, friends, or dating. But when she’s shortlisted for the promotion of her dreams, all her sacrifices finally seem worth it. The only problem? Graeme Crawford-Collins, the remote social media manager and the bane of her existence, is also up for the position. Although they’ve never met in person, their epic email battles are the stuff of office legend. Their boss tasks each of them with drafting a proposal on how to boost bookings in the Galápagos—best proposal wins the promotion. There’s just one catch: they have to go on a company cruise to the Galápagos Islands...together. But when the two meet on the ship, Henley is shocked to discover that the real Graeme is nothing like she imagined. As they explore the Islands together, she soon finds the line between loathing and liking thinner than a postcard. With her career dreams in her sights and a growing attraction to the competition, Henley begins questioning her life choices. Because what’s the point of working all the time if you never actually live?

— YOU NEED TO HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH SOMEONE TO DECIDE YOU LIKE THEM. AUTHORS REALLY REALLY NEED TO LEARN HOW TO BUILD ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS. IF THEY ONLY LIKE EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY KISS WELL IT’S NOT A GOOD RELATIONSHIP. AND THIS IS COMING FROM ME. Back at it again with the annoying so-called heroine who was just...occasionally real mean to Graem for no reason at all? Also her name was Henley. Which is not a great reason to dislike her, but here we are.

Apparently I Read These Books Out Of Order. Who Knew?

Pride, Prejudice and Other Flavors by Sonali Dev

It is a truth universally acknowledged that only in an overachieving Indian American family can a genius daughter be considered a black sheep.

Dr. Trisha Raje is San Francisco’s most acclaimed neurosurgeon. But that’s not enough for the Rajes, her influential immigrant family who’s achieved power by making its own non-negotiable rules:

·       Never trust an outsider

·       Never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s political aspirations

·       And never, ever, defy your family

Trisha is guilty of breaking all three rules. But now she has a chance to redeem herself. So long as she doesn’t repeat old mistakes.

Up-and-coming chef DJ Caine has known people like Trisha before, people who judge him by his rough beginnings and place pedigree above character. He needs the lucrative job the Rajes offer, but he values his pride too much to indulge Trisha’s arrogance. And then he discovers that she’s the only surgeon who can save his sister’s life.

As the two clash, their assumptions crumble like the spun sugar on one of DJ’s stunning desserts. But before a future can be savored there’s a past to be reckoned with...

A family trying to build home in a new land.

A man who has never felt at home anywhere.

And a choice to be made between the two.

— Surprise, apparently this was the first book in the series. I did not know. It didn’t affect my enjoyment of the Persuasion version in this same ‘verse, which is also strange because I liked the Persuasion one way better. There was a lot of medical in this. And not super uplifting medical, either. This was like...oh the Jane character (I guess???) has cancer and either she’s going to go blind after having a surgery (also she was an artist, so you see how this was a problem) or she’s just going to decide to die. Wait, what? That came out of left field, really. Also DJ and Trisha were not nice to each other. Like, I know this is Pride and Prejudice so there has to be some of that at the start, but it wasn’t like Trisha ever really went through the Darcy-required time at Pemberly. She just decided she liked DJ and told him and it was as awkward as Jane Austen intended it, but then we got more medical and everything was cool. It felt very rushed and shoehorned into a modern setting and the Persuasion one was better. You can’t have Darcy’s growth without the Pemberly stuff. You just can’t.

In Which I Didn’t Like a Nickname??? Is the World Ending??

Crazy Stupid Bromance by Lyssa Kay Adams

Alexis Carlisle and her cat café, ToeBeans, have shot to fame after she came forward as a victim of a celebrity chef’s sexual harassment. When a new customer approaches to confide in her, the last thing Alexis expects is for the woman to claim they’re sisters. Unsure what to do, Alexis turns to the only man she trusts—her best friend, Noah Logan.   Computer genius Noah left his rebellious teenage hacker past behind to become a computer security expert. Now he only uses his old skills for the right cause. But Noah’s got a secret: He’s madly in love with Alexis. When she asks for his help, he wonders if the timing will ever be right to confess his crush.   Noah’s pals in The Bromance Book Club are more than willing to share their beloved “manuals” to help him go from bud to boyfriend. But he must decide if telling the truth is worth risking the best friendship he’s ever had.

— If Noah was going to call her Lexa, then her name should have been Alexa and not Alexis. That’s it and that’s all. Also, the story was n u t s. Estranged dads and kidney failure and they got together so fast in this book. Which usually is cool by me, but I really could not get over the nickname and the estranged family was mean to Alexis. Lexa. HER NAME SHOULD HAVE BEEN ALEXA, IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. Also Noah was a former hacker? The estranged family accused him corporate espionage or something? A lot happened in this book, guys. Her name should have been Alexa.

Dumb Brother Was Dumb™ Everyone Else Was Real Cute

The Off Limits Rule by Sarah Adams

I have found rock bottom. It's here, moving in with my older brother because I'm too broke to afford to live on my own. It's okay though, because we've always been close and I think I'm going to have fun living with him again.

 That is until I meet Cooper...

 Turns out, my brother has very strong opinions on the idea of me dating his best friend and is dead set against it. According to him, Cooper is everything I should stay away from: flirtatious, adventurous, non-committal, and freaking hot. (I added that last part because I feel like you need the whole picture.) My brother is right--I should stay away from Cooper James and his pretty blue eyes. He's the opposite of what I need right now.

 Nah--who am I kidding? I'm going for it.

— This was cute, mostly mindless fluff. Hit some trope high points, including, obviously, best friends sister. Only the brother in question was a Neanderthal and I really thought people were going to make out more while said brother was on his business trip. I got it for free off Amazon. Which I think should explain a lot. Like, story-wise. Sorry, free Amazon books. Don’t be insulted.

Prose, Prose, Prose, Please Someone Have a Conversation

Trick by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Spring, Poet is renowned. He's young and pretty, a lover of men and women. He performs for the court, kisses like a scoundrel, and mocks with a silver tongue. Yet allow him this: It's only the most cunning and manipulative soul who can play the fool. For beyond the castle walls, Poet guards a secret. One the Crown would shackle him for. One that he'll risk everything to protect. Alas, it will take more than clever words to deceive Princess Briar. Convinced that he's juggling lies as well as verse, this righteous nuisance of a girl is determined to expose him. But not all falsehoods are fiendish. Poet's secret is delicate, binding the jester and princess in an unlikely alliance—and kindling a breathless attraction, as alluring as it is forbidden.

— The purplest of prose. Mauve prose. Royal purple prose. Lavender prose. There was so much writing here. So much. Too much, some might say. I say. Actually. If we want to get specific. And that was a shame, really, because when Briar and Poet actually had a conversation, they were interesting to read about. Also, the world building here? Yeeeesh. The so-called, wait for it, FOOL TRADE played a prominent role and that was...super cringe. Super Cringe. That being said, I asked Justin what I should read next and he thought it was funny that a book was just called...

Dare by Natalia Jaster

In the Kingdom of Summer, they say she's wild. Locked in a cage by the sea, Flare dreams of escape. She dreams of a lost world, known only in legends. The island is calling to her. And she won't let anyone keep her from it. Especially not him. They say he's cruel. Jeryn has crossed the ocean for the Trade, to bargain for those fierce, imprisoned creatures that make his skin crawl. By law, they're subjects meant for experimentation. And easy to despise. One girl in particular. But on the cusp of transport, the tide rages. That hidden island awaits. Stranded, the prince and prisoner must fight to survive. In a mysterious rainforest, they must band together...if they don't slay one another first. Or become something more to each other.  Something just as dangerous.

— This was Justin’s fault. He could not believe this book was just called Dare. It should have been called “We’re going to weirdly force what is basically slavery into this story and then a prince is going to fall in love with an escaped slave and we’re also going to call that ROMANCE.” y i k e s. Remember that one story that took place over three days? This was the complete opposite. Years! They were shipwrecked for years! They got saved, spoilers, the DAY they started having sex. What are the odds, right?? And then MORE YEARS passed. Multiple years! Five years! They couldn’t actually be together because of that aforementioned slave trade. What the shit, man? Natalia, ya gotta be kidding me with this. The internet claimed Trick was good and a solid follow to reading ACOTAR and that there was this whole verse and it was also good. The internet was wrong.

Nothing Happened, Everything Happened, I...Hated It

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Kristin Cashore’s bestselling, award-winning fantasy Graceling tells the story of the vulnerable-yet-strong Katsa, a smart, beautiful teenager who lives in a world where selected people are given a Grace, a special talent that can be anything from dancing to swimming. Katsa’s is killing. As the king’s niece, she is forced to use her extreme skills as his thug. Along the way, Katsa must learn to decipher the true nature of her Grace… and how to put it to good use. A thrilling, action-packed fantasy adventure (and steamy romance!) that will resonate deeply with adolescents trying to find their way in the world.

— I can’t believe this was a book. Katsa was so annoying! Like, listen, I know her life was sad. And she was a pawn being used against her will. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. The tone of the whole book was so strangely formal and Poe was strangely in love with Katsa? Who obviously didn’t want to get married because she was WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR. Or kill people, as the case may be. Only she wanted to make out with Poe? Only ONLY they didn’t even really get together at the end? I could not believe the end of this book. I nearly threw my Kindle across the room. Once again, no apologies for spoilers because do not read this book, but HE WAS BLIND? Katsa had to leave him behind to save his cousin and he just ENDED UP BEING BLIND? AND THEY NEVER GOT TOGETHER REALLY?? What the fuck? Seriously. Steamy romance, my ass. Nothing happened. The villain got defeated in point two seconds. There are other books in this universe? No, thanks.

[sparkmender]

Here’s the first chapter of Close Encounters, the Faebug/Hive AU series I’ve been working on. I’m gonna cross post most of this stuff to Tumblr too just in an effort to keep things organized. :>

It’s Monday night—

The last Monday night before the end of the world, not that anyone knows it—

And there are two blue, pupil-less eyes the size of the headlights on her beat up VW Beetle staring at her through her bedroom window.

They blink out almost as soon as Charlie twitches. Whatever it was probably got spooked off by the fact that she jolted upright in bed and stared right back at it, compelled by— something. That feeling of being watched. The remnants of a nightmare. Whatever.

If whatever the eyes belonged to made noise as it departed, she couldn’t hear it over the buzz of the heavy fan her mom helped her drag into the big bedroom when she moved in to the old Ochoco house. It might as well not’ve been there at all.

Except for the fact that she saw it, and all the hair on the back of her neck and along her arms stood like she’d rubbed a balloon over herself to see the static electricity.

Lots of things had been a little weird since yesterday, though. Especially in the upper Northwest. It’s not exactly every day that a volcano goes off in the United States. Even if Oregon is a state away from Washington, Sunday had been stressful, to say the least. Some part of her had anticipated another explosion at some point. Guillermo had teased her for being a worry-wart and then started listing off all sorts of possibly apocalyptic events from most to least likely on his fingers. He got to ‘alien robots who disguise themselves as kitchen appliances’ before Charlie threw a shoe at him.

Under the quilt next to her, Guillermo sleeps as he always does, an arm shoved under his ridiculous stack of pillows and his long legs tangled in more than his fair share of the sheets.

Maybe it’s all in her head. Dreams were supposed to be how the brain processed stuff that happened during the day, right? So.

So she’s not crazy. It’s just her brain trying to make sense of the whole active volcano thing compounded by childhood fears and the well-ingrained camping habit of keeping an ear out for bears trying to pilfer your supplies.

Probably.

Charlie doesn’t sleep the rest of the night, or she could have sworn she hadn’t, but between this blink and the next the alarm is going off on the nightstand and Memo’s already in the kitchen, fighting with the coffee maker he can’t stand to get rid of because he bought it with his first paycheck from his magazine gig. (Who knew speculative sci-fi nerd writing not only paid, but paid well, with the right kind of publisher?) If he’d heard anything in the night, he doesn’t mention it.

After pulling her socks on but before shoveling flapjacks into her mouth, the eyes are forgotten.

If they’d ever existed at all.

————

In fact, the eyes remain forgotten all the way until her third break of the day, hanging out with two of the older rangers who’d come back to the main office after clearing out a couple of downed trees off the Crater Lake hiking trail. Samson Jr.— who usually went by ‘Spike’— was a lanky, shaggy brunet a few years older than Charlie who still got carded at every bar they went to, with a permanent sunburn across the bridge of his nose and a personality so sunny it bordered on obnoxious. On the other hand, his father, Samson Sr., was a warm, stocky man who worked construction before throwing his lot in with parks and recreation and could have been anywhere from his mid 40s to his late 60s. They’d both been there when Charlie had started as an intern in college and were probably both going to still be there if she ever decided to leave or get transferred somewhere warmer, like California, or something.

She liked the both of them. Samson was more of a family figure to her than her stepdad Ron, and he’d helped her get a permanent spot on the team. Sometimes she and Memo went out with Spike and his girlfriend Carly, and Memo and Spike had more than a few interests in common. Mainly Star Wars, but also stuff like He-Man and tabletop games and computers. Most of it went over Charlie’s head— she’d grown up a music nerd thanks to Dad and a car fanatic thanks to Uncle Hank, never much one for pulp fiction— but she and Carly enjoyed teasing the two of them for being ‘Oregon’s own X-Files department.'

So it wasn’t exactly surprising when Spike brought up his perennial fixation, Bigfoot theories, again.

“I don’t know,” he’d started, mouth full of half of a Snickers bar as he waved the other end of it around for emphasis. “I don’t know. But I don’t think that those trees just fell over for no reason. I mean, there were some aftershocks from the eruption, right? But nothing out here. It kind of looked more like some kind of impact hit them, sort of like a boulder had rolled down the hill and toppled ‘em over. But that doesn’t make any sense either, since there’s no loose rocks large enough to knock over three whole fir trees on that side of the trail. Maybe it was a Sasquatch. I bet they mark their territory by brushing up against trees like the bears do, and this one just got over-enthusiastic.”

Samson snatched the other half of the candy bar before Spike could accidentally smack Charlie with it, just to toss it back into the basket of goodies on the windowsill again.

“First of all, stop raiding the candy stash. That’s for visitors, and last I checked, you haven’t been a visitor since you were 16,” the older man scolded, but he couldn’t quite keep the amusement off his face— Spike had to have gotten his enthusiasm from somewhere. “And something tells me that if there really was a ‘sat-squash’ or whatever it is, it probably wouldn’t be hanging around where there’s regular humans coming and going all day, every day. At least if it knew what was good for it. It was just a regular tree fall, it’s been cleared, and now we’ve got more firewood for the campers.”

Though mourning the loss of his candy, Spike was quick to poke a finger in the air triumphantly at Samson.

“Okay, but how do you explain the fur clumps we found scattered there, huh? Way softer than any regular sort of wild animal.”

Charlie had been absently nodding along to their pseudo-argument, only to perk up at Spike’s outburst, dropping the pen she’d been fiddling with. And then curse herself out silently as both of the older rangers turned to her at the way she’d reacted. In the back of her head, she remembered: that split-second glimpse of those unnaturally big eyes, framed by fluff and set into a broad, flat face.

“Uh.”

Spike grinned.

“See? Charlie agrees with me—”

“She said ‘uh,’ Junior, that’s not an agreement—”

“I mean, maybe,” she blurts out before she can stop herself, heat flushing her face at the outburst, awkwardly picking up the pen she’d dropped to snap the cap over it again. “I don’t know what’s out there. You know what they tell us when we start ranger training; don’t go off the trails.”

God, it’s like Charlie can’t help herself, suddenly, as superstitious and paranoid as one of the characters Memo would write into his stories. It was all just stuff the trainers would tell them to haze the kids starting out, the sort of shit teenagers joked about or camp councilors made up to freak out their campers. None of it was actually true. But in another life, maybe, to someone more interesting or smarter or less lucky (or luckier, some stupid impulse wants to say) than Charlie—

For a moment, vivid and shining, Charlie felt some spark of pure terror in her.

The thing in her bedroom window. Was it still near her house? Was she going to come home to find Guillermo missing, or worse?

“Sure, some of it is just common sense safety guidelines, but what about the weirder ones? The rules about not climbing random staircases in the woods— don’t stop to listen to any music if you’re not near a registered campsite, like that’s ever been a thing? Or never telling someone you meet without gear on a trail what your name is? I mean, there’s got to be some kind of a reason for these things, or else we wouldn’t all have them hammered into our skulls over the course of three years,” she rambles, pulse thudding in her ears. “Nobody makes up how-tos about things for no reason.”

In the quiet pause in conversation that followed, Charlie felt the embarrassed burn on her face spread to her ears and creep down the back of her neck.

“…Or it’s an opportunistic raccoon?” she squeaks out.

“Probably a raccoon. Damn.” Spike finally relents, shoulders slumping with a dejected sigh. He really looks genuinely disappointed, soon ambling over to drape himself over Charlie’s desk in the hopes of some sympathy pats as Samson chuckles in the background about how today’s cinema is rotting everybody's brains out their ears.

————

Nobody notices the candy basket on the windowsill going missing as they head back out to do rounds of the campgrounds.

[scribomaniac]

One Step Ahead Ch 9: Family Matters

“Now it’s your turn to listen,” Aelin told him, her eyes burning into him like blue fire. “Come with me and I’ll explain everything.”

Rowan stared down at the ring in his hands, trying to determine if she was telling the truth. He couldn’t detect a trace of a lie in her voice, but she’d be good at lying. She’d have to be, in their line of work. The ring felt cool against his skin. Clean too. If there was a poison on this ring, it had rubbed off long ago or was near untraceable.

None of this made sense to him. His mistress was many things, but kin killer? And those tears she had cried for him earlier . . . those had seemed so real to him. Still believing Arobynn of someone similar to be behind all of this, Rowan resolved himself to see it through. If He could gain more information then he’d figure out who was responsible. And if he could do that, if he could reunite Maeve with her long lost great niece—the only family she had left—then he’d be Maeve’s champion, a hero.

Something inside Rowan’s chest fluttered at the prospect. A hero, just like she always thought him to be . . .

“Okay,” Rowan nodded, his green eyes trained onto her blue. “I’ll hear you out.”

Tension unfolded from Aelin’s shoulders like ice breaking off a glacier. Flexing her hands, breaking them out of their curled form, the assassin nodded and said, “Let’s go.”

Silently, the two packed up their camp and returned to the car. Aelin drove her way through a dark and narrow path with only the towering trees of Oakwald to accompany them. After several minutes where not a word was spoken between them, the forest opened up and a great manor came into view. The manor was grand, to be sure, but time had taken its toll on the building. In some parts the roof was coming apart, showing holes into the interior, and in others the glass of the windows looked so unclean they were pitch black. All the foliage which must have at one point in time been beautiful and cared for had overgrown and begun to creep up the brick walls, swallowing the manor one leaf at a time.

“Where are we?” Rowan asked when Aelin turned off the car.

“Somewhere safe. Now come on. They’re waiting for us.”

The inside of the manor wasn’t much better off than the outside. The entry hall and rooms beside it were dark and cold. Cobwebs grew a plenty and Rowan knows he heard some critter moving down the hall. But as they walked further into the home, Aelin led him to a door outlined with a warm light.

Adarlan’s Assassin gave the door a series of knocks, a code signaling to those on the other side that they were in safe company. A double knock returned Aelin’s and then it opened to reveal a young man with dark hair and piercing brown eyes and a scar tearing through his eyebrows and running down his cheek. His eyes flashed from Aelin to Rowan. His distrust of the Cleaner was obviously apparent in the way his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed, but he still moved aside to let them in.

Inside the room was much better kept than the rest of the house. There was a fire burning in a grand fireplace, an expensive, but worn, rug on the floor, and several comfortable looking couches and chairs. Most of which were already filled. Carefully taking in his surroundings, Rowan was surprised to find, once again, Dorian Havilliard and Chaol Westfall. He blinked at them slowly, trying—and failing—to think of some way to link the two of them and Aelin together.

Unsurprisingly, Aedion was lounging across the room. He was so slumped down in his seat it almost looked like he could slide off at any moment. Rowan wouldn’t be fooled though. If necessary, Aedion was ready to spring into action the microsecond he was needed. The white haired man wondered where the rest of his gang were. Since he didn’t see their bikes on his way in, he assumed they were guarding the manor and keeping watch for any unwanted visitors. Prowling in the dark like a pack of rabid wolves.

Next to the leader of The Bane sat the Faliq girl, which was curious. Her sharp eyes were trained on him, watching his every move. Remembering what she said earlier, about never missing her mark, he made himself a mental note not to keep his back towards her.

There were three other people in the room. The first was the young man who opened the door for them. He stood by the fire, behind a winged back chair which seated a frail old man. Rowan assumed this was the owner of the house.

And finally, sitting across from the fire on a sad looking fainting couch, a pillow clutched in his arms, was Athril Dearst.

Shooting Aelin a look, one that said—what the actual fuck are you playing at—Rowan found himself standing so close to her that he could easily spot the ring of gold within the blue of her eyes.

Staring right back at him, her determined gaze answered him, What I have to.

Explain, Rowan demanded, not looking away even when he heard Athril stand.  

Sighing, Aelin nodded. She looked over Rowan’s shoulder at Athril and said, “You start—you’re the one that set this all into motion, after all.”

Athril nodded. He looked at Rowan, then away, and then, as if he’d found a bit of courage deep within himself, locked eyes with Rowan and began, “Right. Well, I’m not sure if you know this, but it’s an election year.”

He waited for the Cleaner to nod.

“The polls weren’t looking great. There wasn’t a lot of public interest and when that happens it could go either way come Election Day. My campaign manager and I thought it’d be best to find something, a cause, to bring the people together and catch their attention.” The Wendlyn District Attorney cleared his throat, “So I decided to look into cold cases, and there was one that caught my eye. It was out of my district, but Terrasen’s D.A., welcomed me in with open arms and agreed we could share in any of the spoils closing such a notorious case would bring.”

Rowan caught Aelin’s eye and she nodded, confirming he meant her family’s murder.

“So I put pressure on the police to reopen the case, which led to,” Athril trailed off, looking towards Westfall to pick up the story.

Sitting up straighter, Chaol looked at the room with wide eyes. He looked alarmed by the prospect that he’d have to address the room. “I found it,” he got out, “the ring.  It,” he looked towards Faliq who nodded encouragingly to him which was . . . interesting, “had fallen into a vent beside his night table.” Westfall shrugged, “I guess no one looked there the first time around.”

Aelin snorted, “More like they were bribed not to.”

Rowan nodded at that, though who had bribed the police all those years ago, he was still unsure.

“That’s how we got involved,” Havilliard spoke up, clapping his friend on his shoulder. Westfall sighed quietly before relaxing back into his seat. “Chaol brought the ring to light and the news traveled up the channels and into my ears so we,” the prince of Rifthold’s lips split into a sly grin, one that hinted at something deeper, something hidden beneath the surface, “began exchanging conspiracy theories.”

“We thought for sure the ring belonged to Adarlan’s Assassin,” Westfall sat up again, his confidence growing, it seemed, now that he’d had time to think about what he wanted to say. “We thought this was the missing piece needed to finally pin it on her, but we quickly realized we were wrong.”

“How?” Rowan asked. The only way he’d been able to rule out the possibility of it being Aelin was because he knew her age and that the time line couldn’t match up. For anyone who didn’t know the famed assassin wasn’t even twenty, it’d be a natural assumption to make.

Both Westfall and Havilliard turned to look at Faliq. The young woman shrugged, “They were talking about it in my bakery, so I set them straight.”

A beat passed, and when Rowan kept his green eyes locked on the dark haired woman, she continued, “I’d already met Aelin at that point—knew her as Celeana, I mean—and knew she couldn’t have made that kill.”

Rowan nodded, though he had a few more questions, like why would Westfall and Havilliard take a random baker for her word, and how did she prove it to them? He still didn’t know how the sons of two powerful men had become friends with such a notorious member of the Underworld, but he had a feeling that information would come to light soon enough.

“Once Nesryn told me about the ring, I knew I had to act fast,” Aelin told him, her hip cocked and her hand resting on it as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “If I knew, that mean Maeve knew too, or would know soon enough.”

Following her train of thought, the white haired male said, “So you stole it before she could.” Aelin gave him a wide smile, one that showed off an awful lot of teeth and was surely meant to set him on edge. However, all it did for him was send a spark down his spine.

Still, this didn’t explain everything. Cocking his head at her, he silently asked, And this group? How’d this all happen?

For once, Aelin answered him aloud, “After our meetup in the bakery, I got Dorian, Chaol, and Nesryn to convince Athril to come here.”

Which was smart, considering Maeve would more than likely take him out to ensure no one kept sniffing around the Galathynius case. But no, Rowan reminded himself. Maeve wasn’t responsible for this. Nothing anyone had said had properly condemned his mistress. He needed more information if he was going to convince Aelin properly.

“I have to say,” Athril sat back down on the couch, grabbing for the pillow, “having these two,” he jerked his thumb at Havilliard and Westfall, “pick me up was a wise choice. I thought she,” know his thumb was aimed at Faliq, “had come to carve out my lungs.”

“That’s just her face,” Westfall said quietly, earning him a pillow to the face courtesy of Faliq. “What? It’s true!”

“Anyway,” Aelin said pointedly, giving Westfall a very tired look, “once we had the ring, we sent it out for testing.”

Rowan hummed, pulling the ring out from his pocket. “You said it was poisoned.”

“The interior, to be specific,” Athril pulled a briefcase out from underneath the couch and took some papers out. “There were only trace amounts left by the time we found it. The rest was absorbed into Orlon’s skin. Based on what Dr. Towers said, it wouldn’t have taken long for the poison to do its job.”

“What’s the name of the poison?” Rowan looked back over to Aelin, “If we know the name and the ingredients that could help us find the real killer.”

Aelin raised a delicate brow. Really buzzard? Her expression asked. Still trying to defend your mistress?

“It doesn’t have a name yet,” Westfall, of all people, told him. Rowan would have thought his participation in this conversation had ended, and yet he continued on as if he himself was the expert on the poison. “It’s an unknown. We have a breakdown of the ingredients though,” he nodded at Athril, who stood and handed Rowan several pages worth of data. “They’re very rare, which is good, and should help us narrow down the suspects. In fact, it already has.”

“Have you ever been to Valg, Rowan?” Aelin asked, moving over to stand before the fire and warm her hands. The hairs on the back of Rowan’s neck stood up, knowing that Aelin ever acted nonchalantly like this when she was at her most dangerous, when she had something up her sleeve.

Rowan hadn’t ever been to Valg. There was no reason for him to, considering what a crap hole the place was. It was full of empty buildings, the hollowed out husks of addict-addled bodies, and rusted over pipes. There was only one reason people ever went there and that was to die.

With her back to him, Aelin continued, “It’s a horrible place, run by three brothers who care nothing for it besides whatever money the junkyards and desperate bring in. But it does have an interesting collection of foliage that are renowned for their toxicity.” Turning around to face him again, Aelin’s face looked like it had been cut from marble, betraying none of the emotions Rowan was sure were raging through her.

“Why are you telling me this?” It was nothing new to the Cleaner. The King brothers, Orcus, Mantyx, and Erawan, were well known by the world for their brutal business practices and known in the Underworld for their vast supply of drugs and poisons.

“I’m telling you this,” Aelin said slowly, taking in a deep, slow breath, “because all of the ingredients in the poison originate from Valg and because of Maeve’s connection with it.”

Rowan frowned, trying to connect the dots and finding he couldn’t. There was no connection between Maeve and Valg. Silently, Rowan told her so.

Shoulders dropping back, Aelin stood up straighter. Rowan felt as if a stone dropped into his stomach, knowing he was about to be proven wrong.

“Maeve was married before, did you know?” Aelin cocked her head to the side, almost inquisitively. “It was only for a year or so, but it was legal. Apparently it ended in fire and brimstone, but I’m sure Maeve wouldn’t call it a complete loss.”

Athril handed him another piece of paper. It was a copy of a marriage certificate.

“Look at the names, Rowan.”

He did, and what he found there took the air right out of his lungs. Orcus King. Maeve had been married to Orcus King. Orcus King, the mastermind behind all the poisons produced in Valg. If Maeve had been married to him, had gained knowledge of his formulas and ingredients, then it’d be easy for her to . . .

“I need some air,” Rowan shoved the papers back into Athril’s hands and stormed out of the manor. There was a chill to the night, a welcomed sensation to combat his burning skin. He was going to be sick. Maeve was vicious, he always knew that—she didn’t become a mob boss by being nice, he knew that—but this was her family. Family was everything and she just—if Aelin was right then she just threw that all away.

Rowan closed his eyes and found a pair of chestnut eyes staring back at him. The wind carried the sound of a laugh, warm and infectious and familiar. Bile rose up Rowan’s throat. He’d give anything to just—and Maeve had thrown—he was going to be sick.

“Rowan,” Aelin’s voice broke through Rowan’s thoughts, through the laughter and the bile, and brought him back down into himself.

Dragging a hand down his face, Rowan turned to look at Adarlan’s Assassin. Standing before him now, Aelin looked so small and vulnerable, but she was looking at him as if he looked the same.

Opening her mouth, Aelin was about to say something else but Rowan cut her off, “I’m in. Whatever you need me to do.” He swallowed down the last remnants of the bile and resolved himself, “I’m in.”  

[soundwavereporting]

Sky Spies and Splitting Up Batchmates

IDW, pre-war (to be specific very slightly pre-Megatron: Origin); Cosmos, OCs, Sentinel Prime, Prowl, the tiniest of tiny cameos for Soundwave and Ratbat. Warnings for canon-typical racism/homophobia. 

This is based on a whole heap of headcanons, plus one or two panels from MTMTE. 

Iacon felt…small.

Maybe it was the way the crowds parted to make way for them, or maybe it was the way that they had to walk in single file or risk one of them accidentally stepping into the street.  

Cosmos missed Staniz. Staniz was made for mechs like them.

He supposed it was better than being separated from his batchmates during their constant, multi-year surveying missions studying the infinitesimal ebb and flow of energon. Their contract with Senator Shockwave wasn’t scheduled to expire for another three cycles, but today the Prime of all people wanted to speak to them about something equal parts vitally important and incredibly vague.

::He’s probably gonna send us to the Institute.::

As usual, Starburst’s mood was equal parts pessimistic and anxious.

“The Prime has better things to do than send three Lunabots to the Institute.” Cosmos spoke aloud, though he hoped it was quiet enough to not be overheard. Abruptly feeling self-conscious, he adjusted the temporary badge the Senatorial messenger had affixed to his armor, declaring him cleared to wander around inner Iacon for the day.

::Then he’s gonna reformat us! Turn us into his new sky-spies, or dump fissal radiation into our spark chamber in the hopes of creating outliers!::

Cosmos glared at his batchmate. As usual, Starburst was paying more attention to whatever conspiracy theories he’d pulled up on his HUD than anything else—more than once, Cosmos and Paradox had had to pull the mech out of incoming traffic.

“Shut up, ‘burst.” Paradox had been quiet until now, silently soaking up the sights of inner Iacon, but now the Grand Imperium loomed before them. It was no secret that the average Lunabot stood (literally) head and shoulders above most mechs, leaving the average, non-form friendly building more or less inaccessible to them, but the Senate’s Iacon headquarters were…something else.

They stepped inside.

A mech with the most spectacular, articulated rotors Cosmos had ever seen was arguing with the receptionist. He felt Paradox stiffen beside him, taking in the sight of said rotors as they shifted and swayed in time to his animated, angry gestures in the receptionist’s direction.

Not for the first time, Cosmos lamented knowing so much about the things that revved his batchmates’ engines.

The mech who had been standing beside rotor-mech whipped around, staring at Paradox as though he had broadcasted his taste for fully articulated rotors and flight frames on a loudspeaker.

Paradox, at least, had the sense to look a little embarrassed.

Starburst had frozen in the doorway, effectively blocking anyone larger than a memory stick from entering. Cosmos grabbed Starburst and yanked him forward. Starburst stumbled, tripping over his own feet and nearly falling head-first into rotor-mech’s stupid, articulated rotors.

Abruptly, Rotor-mech turned to face them. With a sinking feeling of utter dread that was definitely proportional to the situation, Cosmos took in the Senatorial crest emblazoned on rotor-mech’s chassis.

Apparently having noticed the same thing, Paradox squeaked.

Cosmos wondered if it would be bad form to just transform and break through the ceiling en route to outer space, never to be seen on Cybertron again. Maybe they could go find Luna-1! Surely such a feat would be enough to erase the—

“You’re here!”

The receptionist, whose public ID tag labeled him as Drawback, jumped to his feet and gently maneuvered past rotor-Senator-mech and grasped Paradox’s arm in a clear, albeit relieved greeting.

“As I was saying, Senator, our most wise Prime has a meeting with these three wonderful—and prompt!—Lunabots in just a few moments. As I said, I am more than happy to put you down for a meeting slot sometime…late next week?”

Drawback tugged insistently on Paradox’s arm, practically dragging the Lunabot towards the lift. Unsure whether they were meant to follow, but unwilling to remain, Cosmos and Starburst followed suit.

Rotor-Senator gawked. Even from this distance, Cosmos could feel the anger bubbling in the mech’s field.

“Thank you,” Drawback muttered, once he had herded them out of audio-receptor range, towards an elevator that would accommodate them—one of them at a time, at least. Paradox and Starburst clamored to be the first ones in, and Cosmos lamented the fact that he was going to be stuck in the lobby for even a minute longer than the others. “Sometimes I swear Sentinel sets up these appointments just to get out of meetings he doesn’t want to attend. And Ratbat knows me from Kaon, so he thinks I’ll just rearrange the Prime’s schedule! Just for him!”  

Cosmos had no real answer to that. He watched Paradox make his escape via elevator, peeking around the closing doors once more in hopes of getting another look at rotor-Senator. Starburst fidgeted in place and Cosmos could practically see the forums his batchmate had pulled up on his HUD.

“So, uh,” Cosmos said, hoping to break the awkward silence. “Worked here long?”

Drawback shook his head. “I’m usually posted in Kaon, at the um, local Senate building over there. Just here till the replacement passes all the background checks, then I’ll get to go home.” He lowered his voice. “It’s awful here.”

Starburst nodded enthusiastically, and apparently chose that moment to break his self-imposed silence.

“What’s this about?” Starburst asked. “I know that Lunabots consume more energon than the average mech but we wouldn’t be able to enter planetary orbit without all that fuel and! And Senator Shockwave himself declared us free to receive all the fuel we need, at least until our contract with him is up, and I—I really don’t want to get reformatted. Or brainwashed. I really don’t.”

Cosmos had to resist the urge to hide his face in his hands, but Drawback nodded. Considering the commotion rotor-Senator had been making out there, Starburst’s rant probably wasn’t the most outlandish outburst he’d ever been subjected to.

“Well, I know for a fact you’re not here to be brainwashed!” Drawback’s smile was as sincere as it was strained.

The elevator door slid open and Starburst practically jumped inside, leaving Cosmos alone with Drawback.

“You’re a Lunabot, right?” Drawback asked. “You like it?”

“Y-yes,” Cosmos said, mostly because he wasn’t sure if it was a trick question designed to weed out anyone who might be even the slightest bit anti-Functionist. For all he knew, the Senate was staffed with telepaths around every corner, taking notes on which visitors needed to be sent to—

Primus, now he was starting to think like Starburst.

“I definitely don’t get to see Iacon too often.”

Drawback nodded. “Well, if you get the chance—it’s not everyone’s taste, but there’s a pretty good Tarnian place in one of the lower districts. It’s size-friendly, too—lots of mechs visiting from Kaon and Tarn drop in, so you know it’s authentic.” Drawback coughed, awkwardly. “I, uh, run a regional cuisine blog in my free time.”

The elevator door chose that moment to open, sparing Cosmos from any more awkward small talk. Cosmos stepped in and Drawback waved goodbye, cringing as the rotor-Senator came into view, striding towards the hapless receptionist.

Sentinel Prime’s offices were on the top floor. Cosmos took a moment to wonder at the inefficiency of it all—Drawback certainly wasn’t flight-frame, and he doubted rotor-Senator transformed unless it was to show off. Did they all really use these elevators to navigate the building?

Maybe Sentinel wanted to hire them as shuttles.

Cosmos shuddered at the thought. He didn’t know how shuttlemechs could stand the feeling of someone moving around inside him, much less directing him.

The doors slid open, and Cosmos was relieved to see Paradox and Starburst waiting for him. Triplechangers stood guard at the many doors of the very intimidating hallway that stretched out before them, each nearly as tall as the average Lunabot. Cosmos wondered if they were allowed to skip the elevators and just fly up to whatever floor they needed to get to.

 Out of politeness, Cosmos nodded a greeting to the nearest guardsmech and got no response. Starburst had shifted back to internal comms and was sending them both a massive data-dump from the conspiracy forums.

As he usually did, Cosmos fell into step just behind Paradox, letting his batchmate take the lead. It wasn’t something that they had ever talked about, but where Paradox led, he and Starburst were usually content to follow. Paradox’s quick thinking had gotten them out of trouble more than once, and his cool demeanor had netted them the contract to work with Senator Shockwave. Cosmos would just have to make sure neither he or Starburst said anything that warranted getting their sparks extracted, and they would be good.

His audio receptors picked up the faintest sounds of an ongoing argument at the end of the hall. None of the triplechangers seemed particularly bothered by the noise.

“Nice place,” Cosmos muttered to himself. Paradox elbowed him. “What? It’s true!” The carpet under their pedes probably cost more than the three of them would make in a hundred cycles.

The door at the far end of the hall was more than tall—and wide—enough to accommodate the three of them. They stepped inside and Starburst raised a hand, awkwardly waving at the receptionist in the far corner, who didn’t look nearly as welcoming as Drawback had.

“Lunabots.” This receptionist didn’t have a public ID tag. “Right. Sentinel’s been waiting for you.”

Cosmos glanced at his chrono—they were nearly five minutes early, and the implication that they were running late irked him. Judging by the way his armor puffed up, Paradox clearly felt the same.

The receptionist gave Paradox a flat, unimpressed stare. Paradox met the stare with a patient half-glare Cosmos hoped he’d be able to emulate one day.

“Through the far door, and please—try to make it quick. Meetings with astro class mechs—much less Lunabots—aren’t exactly what the Matrix intended when it chose Sentinel Prime as its vessel.

Giving up any semblance of professional distance, Paradox grabbed Cosmos’ arm with one hand and Starburst’s with the other before either of them could start a fight or demand to know what the mech knew about the Matrix.

Without looking at them again, the receptionist waved them through. The door opened, and Cosmos came face to face with Sentinel Prime, who’d been in the process of storming out of his own office.

“Lunabots!” Sentinel composed himself quickly, spreading his hands out in that way Cosmos had noticed a lot of mechs tended to do when they were trying to show that they had nothing to hide.

Cosmos didn’t trust him, but earning the trust of a Lunabot wasn’t exactly a perquisite for the Primacy, was it?

“There are…three of you. Did we know three of them were coming?” The question was directed at the mech Sentinel Prime had been arguing with—an Enforcer-turned-aide, who’d done a worse job of pretending he hadn’t just been yelling at a Prime than he probably thought.

“Lunabots are created in triads.” The Enforcer-turned-aide was looking at a datapad. “Starburst, Paradox, and Cosmo. Here at Senator Shockwave’s personal recommendation.”

“Cosmos,” Cosmos said automatically.

Paradox groaned.

“Ah.” An unpleasantly familiar expression crossed Sentinel’s faceplates. “Well, we only need one of you for now. So.”

Paradox stiffened. “Sir—um, your highness, sir—“

Sentinel waved a hand. “Just Sentinel.”

“Sentinel, sir—Lunabots—“

“Lunabots are sparked in triads,” Sentinel rolled his optics theatrically and turned back to face his aide. “I heard you the first time. It’s not like they’re sparkmates, are they?”

Sentinel glared at Paradox.  

“No sir.”

“Good.” Sentinel turned back to Paradox. “Now. Like I said—well, I didn’t say: to make it short, we’re running short on mechs capable of orbital surveillance, and the Senate has authorized one—one—Lunabot to undergo a deep reformat and a class change to add to our ranks. Whichever one of you is chosen to be reformatted—“

“Reformatted?”

Despairingly, Cosmos realized neither he nor Paradox had moved to shut up their batchmate.  Sentinel didn’t need to ask their permission, did he? This was just a formality—or maybe they were here to get evaluated, in which case…

Primus, they were going to choose Paradox.

Oblivious to Cosmos’ internal crisis, Sentinel was trying—and failing—to allay Starburst’s fear.

“Into a smaller, more compact, more fuel efficient body. You’ll get twice whatever Shockwave’s been paying you and so many upgrades you won’t even have time to think about your…friends. Brothers? And you’ll be doing your duty as a Cybertronian citizen, helping your Prime rid the planet of enemies of the state.”

“Sir, Decepticons are dissenters, not—“

“I don’t want to get reformatted,” Starburst snapped. Sentinel looked up, surprised. “None of us do. We’re Lunabots and we like being Lunabots.”

Cosmos seized the chance to nod. Vigorously.

Sentinel frowned.

“Please wait outside.”

He was half-expecting the triplechangers to accost them the instant the door closed, but the mechs remained where they stood, impassible and unmovable. The receptionist looked up and rolled his optics, then ignored them completely.

“They’re gonna split us up,” Starburst said, breathless. “The Prime and his little assistant—oh Primus they’re gonna turn us into minibots and make us hack transmissions and—“

“Shut up.” Paradox demanded, then turned to Cosmos. “What’s your take on this?”

“I—um. Yeah.” Cosmos looked away. “I think they’re gonna choose you.”

“Not what I was looking for.” Paradox narrowed his optics. “Maybe we can persuade Sentinel to take all three of us—barring that, maybe we can redirect him to another cohort of Lunabots.”

“I’ve never liked Quasar and his batchmates. They should pick one of them to be sky-spies.”

“Quasar is an idiot. Sentinel won’t go for it.”

“I’ll do it,” Cosmos said, before he realized the words had formed in his processor, much less left his voicebox. “Um. I mean—“

“No!” Starburst grossed his arms. “I mean, better you than me, but no.”

“If—if—Sentinel’s set on recruiting a Lunabot and can’t be persuaded otherwise,” Cosmos said, trying and failing to figure out where he could backtrack and retract his words. “I’ll do it.”

“But you hate surveillance,” Starburst said. “You—oh! You’re hoping that being a spy will be less boring than monitoring Cybertron’s energon levels?”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Cosmos admitted. “I’m still hoping Sentinel will let all of us get reformatted.”

Before Starburst could reiterate that he really didn’t want to get turned into a spy, the door to Sentinel’s office opened once again.

Feeling like he was walking to his own execution, Cosmos followed his batchmates. They trooped back into the Prime’s office in a single file, awkwardly standing as Sentinel looked them up and down.

“As I was saying,” Sentinel said. “For the time being, we still only need one of you. But Prowl here—“ Sentinel gestured at the Enforcer. “Has persuaded me to promise you that once the Decepticon threat has been eradicated from the planet, you will have the option to get your old frame back and return to your…’batch’. No hard feelings. And if, by chance, I am not in a position to approve the change, Prowl has been authorized to act in my place. Is that acceptable?”

Belatedly, Cosmos realized that Paradox and Starburst had taken a measured step back. He had volunteered, hadn’t he.

Primus, he was an idiot.

Before Cosmos could retract his offer, Sentinel held out his hand. Dumbly, Cosmos shook it.

“Welcome to Kaon Security Services, Lunabot,” Sentinel said. “We’re glad to have you here.”

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (9/18)

Chapter 9: Do Everything Before You Die

A bittersweet reunion occurs between the group at New England Medical Center, where a life still hangs in the balance. After recapping the previous night’s events, Madelyn is sent home under Deacon’s careful watch. In the quiet of her apartment, the two share a tender moment, until a phone call from Piper shatters the silence.

“I have a theory that you should do everything before you die.” - Bruno Antony as played by Robert Walker (Strangers on a Train, 1951)

[read on Ao3] x  [chapter masterpost]

April 13th, 1958

Madelyn knew two facts about the New England Medical Center—that Jennifer Lands was employed as a registered nurse in the emergency department, and that according to an article in Massachusetts Surgical Journal, the hospital was recently responsible for coining the term ‘immunosuppression’. As she sat in the small waiting area just beside the nurse’s station, she wondered if ‘faulty fluorescent lighting’ should be added to the list, watching as the bulb above her head flickered ominously. The concept of time had been lost to her since she’d arrived, her body and mind on autopilot as it responded to the doctors and staff when necessary.

Hospitals always felt like stepping into a different reality. Deacon had once gone on a tangent about the psychology of liminal spaces—how they were transformative spaces, waiting areas between one point in time and the next—like a threshold between two worlds. Madelyn had compared it to a sermon she’d heard in Catholic school about sacred places, where Jacob dreamt of encountering God between heaven and earth and was imparted with holy knowledge. Their conversation ended with joking that maybe all hospitals were just purgatory in disguise.

With Nick’s life hanging in the balance, it was an unsettling thought.

All she could do after being cleared by a physician was wait in the emergency bay, grateful that the nurses were sympathetic enough to allow her to stay until someone she trusted came to pick her up. Despite being wounded, Eddie Winter’s whereabouts were unknown, and as long as he roamed the streets, nowhere in Boston was truly safe. Still, Madelyn found a small comfort in the sterile atmosphere of the hospital, finding shapes in the speckled pattern of the tiled floor to pass the time.

Piper was the first to arrive, bursting through the double doors with a loud demand that could only be expected of the reporter. She ignored the nurses that tried to stop her from proceeding, rushing over to the line of visitor chairs. Her frenzied expression was exaggerated by the visible lack of sleep and Madelyn wondered if she had been in the middle of an all-nighter when she received the news.

“Blue!” she carelessly tossed her red coat, half of her belongings spilling out of her satchel onto the empty chair. Her hands flew up in alarm, snapping to cover her mouth as she reacted to her friend’s injured state. “Holy shit, Blue, what the hell happened?”

Before she could respond, Piper continued, dark eyes blown wide. “Where’s Nick?”

Madelyn gestured towards a room in which she hadn’t been allowed. “We were separated as soon as we arrived. He’s—”

The emergency room doors swung open again and two more bodies came rushing through. This time the nurses were less inclined to stop the disruption once they saw it was one of their own, the realization washing over as confusion shifted into sympathy. Jennifer Lands paid them no attention as she ran as fast as her heels would allow her to the small waiting area, determination etched into her features. For a split second, Madelyn was worried Jenny was going to slap her for getting Nick in harm’s way—as close as their friendship was, her fiery spirit made her unpredictable at times. Instead, Jenny grabbed her by the wrists and hauled her from the chair into a crushing hug.

“Mads,” she spoke quietly. “Thank God you’re alive.”

Madelyn’s reaction was delayed, not anticipating the kind of reaction from Nick’s fiancé. Even though Jenny was a trained medical professional, she didn’t expect her to be so level-headed or strong. A small part of her was envious, but she squashed the feelings immediately—it wasn’t fair to Jenny when the love of her life came so close to death. She hugged her friend tightly, and the weight of her words came crashing down around her. She was alive and Nick—he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

Madelyn pulled away with a sharp inhale, still holding onto Jenny’s arm as she reached up to wipe at the tears that were already threatening to spill over.

“Oh honey,” the redhead smoothed both of her hands across Madelyn’s face and hair. “None of that. You saved my Nicky’s life, you shouldn’t be crying.”

“I hardly saved him,” she protested. “Enabled him, is more like it. Followed him into the belly of the beast and—”

“What’s done is done,” Jenny spoke, a sharpness to her tone that had Madelyn falling silent. Perhaps Nick’s fiancé was handling her grief in different, more silent ways. “I wanted to tell you that Mr. Bogart did a wonderful job at keeping me safe.”

Behind Jenny, Deacon kept his distance from the three women, though it was evident from his expression that he was just as worried, if not as visibly panicked, as Piper. Madelyn was relieved to see him—more than she thought was possible—and resisted the urge to rush to his side in some kind of romantic reunion. If anybody needed to have a reunion right now, it was Jenny and Nick, and he wasn’t conscious to appreciate it.

“You should’ve stayed at the Railroad safehouse,” she complained. “We have no idea where Eddie Winter or his men have run off to, so we need to stick to the safety net—”

“My place is at Nick’s side,” Jenny interjected, sidestepping to take a seat, prompting Piper to do the same. With a long exhale, Madelyn followed, and Deacon copied, sitting in the chair opposite of her. The detective’s fiancé continued. “Tell us what happened tonight.”

Madelyn considered a condensed version of events, but Jenny resisted, prying her for more information as she outlined the operation that led to the break-in to Joe’s Spuckies Sandwich Shop. Upon her insistence, she outlined every gruesome detail—from their restraints to Marty’s death, to Eddie’s taunting set to Bobby Darrin’s Mack the Knife. She didn’t stop, even when it came time to explain how Nick was shot—the shoulder wound had torn an artery, and the bullet in his chest had ripped through his liver, missing his heart by a few centimeters. Her hands began to tremble when she recalled Winter’s attack on her, the grip of his hands around her throat so tight she thought she was going to die.

“How’d you get out?” Deacon stopped her short, realizing she was struggling.  

Madelyn found her voice. “I shot Winter. He got away,” she said simply. “I had to get Nick to safety so…I took a risk and called the last person we might be able to trust in the Boston P.D.”

Piper leaned forward, shellshocked. “You called the cops?”

Jenny hushed her, allowing Madelyn to continue. Deacon looked equally skeptical, but she quieted his suspicions with a name.

“Sergeant Sullivan. He was mentioned in Skinny Malone’s book as being clean,” Madelyn blinked hard. “I gave him specific instructions and he brought a skeleton crew to clear the scene and escort Nick and I here. He gave me his word as an Irishman, a Catholic, and a Bostonian that he’d follow the case to the letter.”

“Well that middle one doesn’t do me well,” Jenny mumbled, before nodding. “Sounds like the boy doesn’t have an ounce of corruption in his bones.”

“Blue, are you sure about this?” Piper asked, ever the skeptic.

Madelyn shook her head, twisting her hands in her lap. “No. We shouldn’t trust anyone,” she shared a brief, knowing look with Deacon. “But Sullivan is our last shot at making sure Eddie Winter is captured. His reign of terror ends tonight.”

The group exchanged silent glances, confirming that while it wasn’t their first choice, it was now their only choice. Jenny glanced down the corridor where she saw an attending doctor standing outside Nick’s room.

“Mads, you’re an angel,” she sighed. “You’ve done more than enough tonight. Please, let Deacon take you home.”

Piper resisted the urge to make a snide comment, jaw set as she watched Madelyn reluctantly stand to gather her belongings. Jenny was right—there was little more she could do by staying at the hospital, and she was just about to fall over from exhaustion. With her Railroad partner at her side, the sound of her apartment sounded like heaven. Jenny pulled her into another hug and passed her off to Piper so she could say her farewells to Deacon as well. Madelyn swore she could hear the redhead mumbling something to him that made him stifle a laugh but couldn’t catch the words.

“You’ll visit tomorrow?” the reporter asked, pulling away to inspect Madelyn’s expression.

She nodded, stepping to stand next to Deacon as he offered her his hand. It felt like a lifetime since she last held it, a spark igniting up her arm and to her brain. Madelyn almost forgot to answer Piper. “Yes.”

She gave one last glance over her shoulder to her friends as they neared the exit.

Jenny smiled, waving in return. “Stay safe you two, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

It felt like weeks rather than a few days since Madelyn had last been at her apartment, running back and forth between the agency and Railroad headquarters before setting off with Nick downtown chasing after Eddie Winter. She climbed the stairwell in exhaustion, dragging her aching feet behind her and cursing the landlord for once again falling through on his promise to fix the elevator. Deacon quietly followed behind, and she knew if the circumstances were different he might have offered a clever quip about carrying her the rest of the way—she almost asked him to. Instead, on the fourth floor landing she balanced herself on his shoulder and discarded her heels, carrying them in one hand the rest of the way up. She still didn’t know what time it was, but the sun hadn’t risen yet, so she quietly wriggled her key into the lock of her apartment door before noticing that her partner wasn’t beside her. When she turned to spot him he was crouched in front of Drummer Boy’s door, sliding a small envelope beneath the crack.

“Recap of recent events,” he explained, standing to join her as she opened the door for them both. “So HQ knows where we are.”

As soon as they crossed the threshold of her apartment, a flash of silver met her peripheral in the darkness and she flinched back into Deacon’s chest.

“As I live and breathe!”

Codsworth’s alarmed voice echoed through the room as he cornered them in the tiny entranceway. Madelyn felt foolish for thinking the metal robot was something, or somebody other than her friendly—perhaps too friendly—Mister Handy. Dogmeat came running from the hallway, balancing on his hind legs so his front paws could press against the top of her thighs as he sniffed at her coat and dress, still covered in splotches of Nick and Eddie Winter’s blood. The shepherd barked, sniffing her more frantically before barking again, dropping to the ground so he could pace around her in a tight, anxious circle. Deacon closed the door so the sounds wouldn’t wake the neighbors. The dog’s actions made Codsworth inspect her with a zoomed in eye.

“Oh heavens, Miss Madelyn, have you been injured?” he asked, hovering close. She suddenly felt very crowded between her robot butler, Deacon and worried dog whimpering at her feet. “Should I phone for a doctor?”

Madelyn shook her head, raising her hands to try to create a buffer between them. She sidestepped towards the back of the couch, reaching to turn on the small living room lamp. “That won’t be necessary.”

The light only worsened Codsworth reaction, three arms spinning wildly. “Mistress, your neck!” He advanced again and conveyed as much concern as a robot could. “There’s bruises all over your lovely neck, mum!”

Instinctively, she turned away, covering her skin with her hand. She flicked her gaze to Deacon, but the subtlety in her movements made the Mister Handy unit gutsier. He turned his three-eyes to the man and tilted closer, nearly backing him against the door. “Was Mr. Deacon responsible for this heinous act?”

Understandably, Deacon looked horrified at the accusation, shaking his head in protest as Dogmeat barked at his ankles.

“Oh for God’s sake, no!” Madelyn reprimanded the two, wincing at the pain in her throat as she spoke. “Codsworth honey, I love you, but I don’t have time for this tonight,” she rushed through the apology, circling his metal frame to press at his shutdown button. “Passcode ice-cream.”

The Mister Handy unit crumpled to the floor in a dramatic crumple, causing Dogmeat to turn his attention away from Deacon momentarily to smell at the pile of robotic limbs. He let out a low whine at Madelyn, who only sighed in frustration—that was the last thing she wanted to do—but she could reactivate him and deal with the guilt in the morning. Codsworth, fortunately, wouldn’t remember a thing. She rubbed at her temple, leaning against the sofa for support as the fatigue and swirl of emotions from the last few days fell upon her. Deacon steadily approached, hands hovering over her shoulders as he dipped his head so he could see her eyes. He didn’t move to touch her, and she wondered if he was afraid to do so in front of the dog—like the shepherd would tear him to shreds if he made one wrong move.  

“Ice cream?” he questioned with a smirk but didn’t give her a chance to respond. “I’ll take care of Snoopy here,” he joked, glancing over his shoulder to look at Dogmeat who was still investigating Codsworth’s still framework. “Just take care of yourself, Charmer.”

With a weak nod, she slipped away, lurking in the hallway for a moment to overhear Dogmeat softly barking at Deacon, and his voice echoing back through the apartment.  

“I’ve had worse conversations with inanimate objects.”

As practical and wonderful as a soak in the bathtub sounded, Madelyn feared she’d fall asleep and drown. Not exactly the way she wanted to go out—especially considering she was not alone in her apartment—now was not the time to be naked and vulnerable. She opted for her bedroom instead, tossing her purse and coat in the general direction of her closet before turning on the bedside lamp. She was just about ready to collapse face-first into her duvet when she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror, puling a double-take when she didn’t recognize the reflection staring back. Hesitantly, she stepped closer, all the breath escaping from her lungs at what she saw.

Blood—dried red on her dress and stockings, faded smears on her hands despite the hospital visit—all reminiscent of a cold winter’s night in Boston Common two Christmases ago. Madelyn still had those ruined clothes, stained with Nate’s blood, tucked away in her closet like a morbid memento of the past. History wanted to repeat itself, it seemed, mirroring itself on another blue, A-line dress. She traced the outline with one finger, unsure where Nick’s blood ended and where Eddie Winter’s began—it didn’t matter—both men’s fate were unknown, and she only had herself to blame. Madelyn couldn’t have another death on her conscious.

The guilt overwhelmed her as she tore the dress and stockings from her body, adding it to the pile of earlier discarded items. She changed into a new set of underwear, slipping into a nightgown before securing a robe around her body for warmth. Her knees practically gave out as she collapsed onto her vanity bench, facing away from the mirror so she wouldn’t have to meet her reflection again. When she looked down, she noticed more blood coated over the silver band of her wedding ring, caught in the crevices of the diamond so the shine was dulled. Madelyn quickly removed the ring from her finger, twisting to place it in the jewelry dish on the counter. Her hand felt naked without it, but she couldn’t bear the sight of Nate’s gift to her tainted in such a way.

The tears came without warning and Madelyn succumbed to them with little resistance, unable to fight back with her mind any longer. She sobbed, covering her face with both hands to dull the sounds as the cries ripped through her chest—the sorrow went deeper than the previous night’s incidents. All at once the emotions she had been suppressing from the last two years spilled over in all their glory, threatening to shatter her in two. The remorse over Nate’s death and never solving his murder, High Rise and Henry—even Marty Bulfinch’s deaths weighed heavily on her mind as she wept, fearing she’d be adding another name to the list to mourn. It was much more than survivor’s guilt clawing at her soul. In some twisted sense, she wondered if the universe was dealing out karma for daring to move on from Nate so quickly. Maybe her conflicted emotions towards Deacon made the cosmic punishment against her worse. But then why had Nick been injured instead of her? Jenny didn’t deserve this kind of pain when the two were so in love and full of bliss. Madelyn deserved all the anguish, all the trauma.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, slumped over her vanity and crying into her folded arms when the hallway floorboards creaked, causing her to hold her breath.

“Decent?” Deacon’s voice quietly called out as her bedroom door creaked open. “I brought you some coffee—just the way you like it—and some whiskey, just in case—”

The words died on his tongue when he realized he’d intruded on her private outburst of emotions. She peeked through a small gap in her hair to find him frozen in the doorway, unsure on how to proceed. He balanced a small tray of drinks in his hand, the other gripped tight around the doorknob. Madelyn had cried in front of him before—that night in the agency after the explosion at Ticonderoga and at the hospital—but comparatively her outburst was tame. This was different. These were the tears of a broken woman who very likely couldn’t be put back together again. Maybe it was best Deacon be scared away now rather than later—at least he could reactivate Codsworth on his way out, right? She slowly sat up, sniffling as she frantically wiped at her cheeks and eyes.

“God, I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t,” he said, stopping her short. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”  

Surprisingly (or maybe not) he didn’t retreat, crossing over to where she was, placing the tray down before sitting on the bench beside her. Madelyn opened her mouth to speak, but Deacon shook his head, adjusting so he could delicately wrap an arm around her waist.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he hushed, coaxing her to rest her head against his shoulder.

For a long while she stayed nestled there, wrapped in his loose embrace as the last of her tears fell away. Eventually, her breathing evened out and she focused on the steady pulse of his heartbeat echoing in her ear and how warm his arms were around her body—how safe she felt. Her conscience clawed at her, reminding her not to get swept up in whatever romantic feelings she held for the man—it would only lead to disaster and heartbreak.

“I’m going to start crying again if we stay this quiet,” she mumbled.

Deacon softly laughed, his hand running calming patterns along her back. “The sweater is very absorbent.”

Madelyn gradually pulled away, offering a small smile to match his smirk, unable to think of anything clever to say.

“Codsworth was right,” he broke the silence, frowning as he gestured to her neck.

Her eyes snapped towards the mirror and she hissed—she’d been so distracted by all the blood, she’d forgotten about the present Eddie Winter had left on her skin. The attending physician had informed her there would be no lasting damage, just some bruising and tenderness for a few weeks, and that it looked worse than it was. Of course, Madelyn wasn’t prepared for how bad—the blotches of purple and black a stark contrast to her light skin. She reached to hide the worst spots from view.

“I’ve never looked good in a scarf,” she tried to joke.

Deacon’s hand gently pushed hers aside, fingers delicately ghosting over the marks. His brows furrowed, lips pressed in a straight line as he outlined the shapes and imprints, breath shaky when he finally released the one he’d been holding. His touch lingered, combing back her blonde hair before settling against her shoulder in a soft caress.

“You shot him?” he questioned, and Madelyn nodded.

“I shot him,” she clarified, but she was filled with regret. “I couldn’t kill him. He mocked me for it.”

Deacon shook his head. “You’re not a killer,” he said. “You’re not a coward like some people are. Like he is.”

She had her doubts. “He’s still free,” she lamented.

“Only a matter of time before he fucks up and backs himself into a corner,” he offered, moving to grasp her hand. “We’ll smoke him out.”

Deacon ran his thumb across her knuckles, pausing when he noticed the absence of her ring. He didn’t say anything, rubbing over the divot of skin where the band had laid for twelve years. Her heart raced, unsure of the intimacy being created.

“It was covered in blood,” she explained, barely able to find her voice.

He remained silent, just nodding in response. There was a subtle shift in his mood and expression, but she couldn’t place it, made worse by his ever-present sunglasses. She stared at him, trying her best to visualize the steely-blue color she’d glimpsed in February—but it had only been a second in the dark—for all she knew, her mind was playing tricks. Ever since then, Madelyn had waited for another opportunity to sneak a peek, but one never came. Those eyes were as elusive as Eddie Winter—perhaps just as deadly—if she ever got an extended look.

“Tell me what you want,” Deacon prompted, cutting through the quiet with words that sounded more erotic than he likely meant. Madelyn wondered if that was his intention.

She gently removed her hand from his grasp, lifting both so her fingers brushed along the sharp corner of his darkened frames. “I want to see your eyes”

Madelyn expected resistance, but he only nodded, allowing her to carefully remove the glasses from his face. She set them down on her vanity, focusing on what they’d been hiding all this time. She thought perhaps she’d want to kiss him too, but instead she just stared—blue eyes on blue—inspecting every last detail she’d missed from before. The hint of crows’ feet, a speckle of grey in the iris, a dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose. Deacon wasn’t just handsome, he was beautiful, and it was like seeing him for the first time.

“Will you stay with me?” she blurted, heat rushing to her cheeks when she thought of how promiscuous it sounded. Instead of fumbling over what she meant, she remained silent, hoping he’d understand as she continued to gaze at him.

“What will the neighbors think?” he teased, grasping her hands again in a chuckle.

Madelyn thought about responding with a joke of her own about how Drummer Boy already thought of them as a couple in the midst of a wild love affair, but held her tongue, opting to bask in the tender moment created. When the night began, she didn’t think she’d end up in his embrace, their eyes locked. Deacon eventually encouraged her to rest her head against his shoulder again, wrapping her up in his arms as he held her close to his chest, one hand sweeping along her back. It was the calmest she’d felt in recent memory.

She didn’t remember falling asleep.

When Madelyn awoke several hours later, she was tucked under the blankets of her mattress and the sun was filtering though the curtains of her window. The memories of the last several days flooded back in an instant, but the expected gloom was overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of calm and warmth. There was another body on the bed, and it didn’t take a detective to figure out who it could be. She slowly rolled onto her back, turning her head to find Deacon was already awake, body stretched out atop the covers as he faced her. His glasses were still on her vanity, but he’d also shed his black wig and Madelyn was awestruck at what the gesture signified. She doubted there were many people who had seen him in such a way, with the sunlight shimmering across his light-red hair, sleepy blue eyes twinkling as he smiled at her.

“Mornin’.”

She mimicked his expression, and felt warmth radiate from her cheeks to her toes. “You stayed?”

“Of course,” he answered, like it was the only answer in the world. A stretch of silence passed between them in which she shifted onto her side to face him. “Wonder what time it is.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, too preoccupied with memorizing the shape of his face, the color of his eyes in the morning light and the reddish-brown stubble that was more pronounced after days of not shaving. The desire to kiss him was stronger than it ever had been before as her eyes drifted across his lips, recalling every close-call they had shared in recent months. “Deacon…”

Madelyn had barely whispered his name when his hand reached across the small distance to cup the side of her face, thumb sweeping over her cheek as he shifted closer. She resisted from sliding her eyes shut, fixated on his burning, focused gaze as he angled her chin up, lips so close she could feel the heat of his every breath. He dipped closer and then away—she caught his last-minute hesitation and stilled, staring at him in silent disbelief. Despite visibly lowering his guard, emotionally, he wasn’t ready. Deacon’s expression shifted into one of shame and Madelyn had to wonder why—why couldn’t he kiss her? Insecurities and doubt began to flood her mind as she questioned every little touch, flirtation and perceived moment that had led up to now. She’d foolishly believed that maybe, he held the same romantic feelings towards her, despite their working partnership. Had she been wrong about him that entire time?

Before either could say a word, her phone began to ring, echoing down the hall from the kitchen. At first, she planned to ignore it, thinking Codsworth would handle the interruption before remembering he was a deactivated pile of metal in the living room. Just another thing to be guilty about. As the phone continued to ring, Madelyn snapped her eyes closed and shook her head in an effort to bring herself to reality.

“I should answer that,” she explained, already shifting to remove herself from the bed.

Deacon sighed, running a hand through his hair, and made to follow. “M—Charmer, wait—”

In her hurry, she hadn’t caught his near-slip. The phone rang the entire time she rushed down the hallway to the small nook, shooing away Dogmeat who was attempting to knock the offending noise down from the cranny. Whoever was calling was persistent, having not given up after so many rings. She answered, pausing to gather her bearings.

“Good morning,” she greeted, before swiveling to check the time on the wall—incorrect, it was well past noon. The caller didn’t care, however, as they immediately began spouting off incoherent information. It wasn’t until the connection cleared that she realized it was her friend on the other end. “Piper? Is that you?”

Deacon emerged from the bedroom and cautiously approached. Immediately, Madelyn’s heart was in her throat. “Is it Nick? Did something happen? We can be at the hospital in ten minutes.”

“No,” Piper interrupted with a heavy sigh, tone doing nothing to strengthen Madelyn’s confidence. “Nick is…Nick is fine. Same as before,” she explained, but her voice was shaky, and it was terrifying to experience. “I don’t know how to say it Blue, so I’m just gonna—damnit,” Piper sucked in a breath and Madelyn realized the woman had been crying. “Winter’s men ambushed the hospital.”

As soon as Piper spoke, the world around Madelyn slowed to a grinding halt, and she felt herself losing consciousness out of pure shock. Deacon caught her before she collapsed to the ground, the phone falling from her hand and bouncing against the linoleum tile of her kitchen as the reporter’s voice repeated—

“Jenny is dead.”

[stillebesat]

The Interview (4/5)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Patton, Virgil, Roman Blurb: A normal day at StoryTime! Inc. takes an unexpected turn when Logan goes to investigate why his coworkers have made a bet using Crofters as the prize. Fic Type: General, Human!AU Warnings: None

To Catch Up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 

Virgil froze like a deer in the headlights, barely appearing to breathe. “What?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smile becoming more amused. Had Virgil really expected him to say no--of course he had. 

“I said that you’re hired, Virgil.” He stood, carefully keeping the portfolio out of reach so the kid wouldn’t bolt. “Why don’t we head inside to work out the particulars?” Like informing Roman that he had once more overstepped. 

Hopefully this wouldn’t come back to bite him as hard as last time. 

“But.” Virgil shook his head, apparently rooted in place. “This wasn’t a rea inter--” He inhaled sharply, jabbing an accusing finger at Logan’s chest. “You said you weren’t Princey!” 

Logan pushed up his glasses with one finger, fighting a smile. “I said I wasn’t Roman.” He replied easily. “Not that I wasn’t a Prince.” Besides. His brother wasn’t the only one with hiring power in the building. 

Virgil frowned, rubbing his arms. “You’re a Prince? But how--records show--and if you’re not Roma--” He inhaled sharply, eyes growing wide. “Wait.” He took a step closer to Logan. “You’re telling me that you’re--” He dropped his voice, glancing furtively around the plaza. “Logan? Logan Prince?” 

The portfolio nearly slipped from his fingers at the mention of his name. That--that should be impossible! “How--?”  Logan breathed, ignoring the frantic pounding of his heart. 

He could count the number of people that knew his name in the company on one hand. To everyone else, even on official records, he was simply known as ‘Specs.’ 

The nickname didn’t help his cryptid status at all, but did keep everyone from lumping him and Roman together like they were one entity instead of two. It had finally allowed both of them to spread their figurative wings and take their own paths without feeling like they were in each other's shadows.

And now this...this outsider...knew his name?! HOW?!

 Virgil licked his lips, dropping the hand that had been outstretched for his portfolio. “Well...I did say I’ve followed Thomas from the beginning.” He shrugged, a bit of mischief glinting in his mismatched eyes. “I saw a photo of an early script of Princey’s.”

A script? Logan raised his eyebrows. A script--which script? He’d signed off as Specs on his collaborations with his brother for years. They couldn’t have slipped up over something as little as--

“Zooming in on the picture showed both your names on it, though it was hard to make out yours as its smudged with glitter and partially covered by Roman’s hand.” Virgil continued, staring at Logan as if he’d discovered Bigfoot. 

In a way he had. 

“Glitter?” Logan frowned. Roman hadn’t used glitter on screenplays since--oh. OH. “Are you meaning that four hundred page Sherlock inspired screenplay?” He asked, half turning to the building. 

Virgil nodded, drawing closer. “The one where Watson just freaking dies and a new less emotional sidekick takes place? Yes.” 

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. Of all the pieces that would expose him, it had to be that one. “I hadn’t realized he posted images of that.” He said, heading for the entrance, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Virgil was following. “We wrote it together one weekend while we were stranded at an airport.” 

Virgil whistled. “That’s--wow. Four hundred pages in two days? You two are crazy!”

“Bored more like.” They’d been between projects and driving each other mad, it had been something to keep the two of them equally entertained. “And it was written in three and a half days, plus the ten hour flight.” 

Again Virgil whistled, eyes wide. “Impressive.”

Logan shrugged. “Yah...well. That’s my--” he dropped his voice as he grabbed the door, noting the gaggle of people still hovering in the foyer, watching the two of them. “Twin for you.” He returned to speaking to his normal tones as if nothing had happened. “Once Roman gets inspired, it’s hard to get him to stop.” Another reason why it was difficult to keep people in his department. Few people could go as long or as hard as his brother could. 

Virgil stumbled a step, hesitating right outside the doorway. “Twin?” He echoed softly. “I had thought---I had a theory there were Two Princes at StoryTime!, but I didn’t think you two were---HOW has this not gotten out?!” 

Because they didn’t want to be known just as The Twins anymore. That’s why. 

Logan shrugged. “We don’t want it to. So it doesn’t.” Though now that Virgil had connected the dots-- “And I hope you won’t--”

Virgil rubbed his arms, shaking his head as he looked to the people in the lobby. “Dude, don’t worry. I can keep a secret.” 

That would remain to be seen, but Logan appreciated the sentiment. Though he would be more comfortable having this conversation without so many listening ears nearby. After all, he was already drawing them far too much attention because ‘Specs’ wasn’t supposed to be able to leave the building and Virgil was just standing there like a statu--

Maybe he’s a vampire and needs to be invited inside. 

Logan bit back a smile as Reese’s words echoed in his head. “Then come in, Virgil.” he said, holding the door open a little wider. “I promise we don’t bite. Roman’s more bark than anything.”  

Virgil hunched his shoulders, pushing his bangs over his eyes, before drawing in a steadying breath. “Okay.” He whispered, stepping over the threshold onto the marble tiles, looking around with cautious curiosity. 

“This way.” Logan said, ignoring Ellyn and Chris’s glances as he snagged a visitor’s pass from the front desk, tossing it to Virgil. “You’ll need to wear that until you’re coded into the system.”

“When will that be?” Virgil asked, slipping the pass over his head as Logan pressed the button for the elevator. 

He hummed, tapping the portfolio. That was a good question. “It would depend on when you can--”

“SPECS!” A voice boomed overhead from the floor above, echoing around the lobby. “THERE you are!” 

Well...that saved him the trouble of tracking his brother down. “What does he want now?” Logan asked under his breath as he turned towards the figure standing at the top of the steps. Roman could vanish at the worst possible times and turn up in the oddest of places like the air ducts above the cafeteria.

Virgil jerked. “Specs?” His eyes sparked, lighting up like Logan had just told him aliens existed. “Specs...of course!” He breathed as the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open. “It makes so much sense how you kept this--I’d wondered but--” Virgil frowned. “But I thought you never went outside!” 

Clever. Virgil was piecing things together much faster than ninety-eight percent of the company ever would. 

Logan flashed him a smile, putting a finger to his lips, aware of the guards and other associates standing nearby. He was liking this kid more and more every moment. “I usually don’t.” He said, dropping the smile as a man wearing a white jacket and red sash slid down the banister of the staircase like...well a Prince straight from a Disney movie, skidding to a stop in front of the two of them. 

“About time I found you!” His brother cried, barely glancing to Virgil, before laser focusing in on Logan.

“You have perfect timing as always, Roman.” Logan said, placing a hand on Virgil’s elbow, pulling him inside the elevator. “I was just heading back upstairs to find you.” 

Roman blinked. “Find me? What for?” He demanded, following the two of them inside, hitting the button for the ninth floor. “I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to track you down and now you want to find me?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Of course you do this to me two minutes before my next interview--”

“For Virgil right?” 

Roman gaped at him, eyes narrowing as the doors slid shut. “How did you--” 

Time to jump into the fire. “I just hired him for your department.” Logan said, gesturing to the third member of their little elevator party.

Roman froze, mouth half open, before his hands clenched. “You. WHAT?!” 

“I hired him--am I not speaking clearly today?” Logan asked looking to Virgil with a raised eyebrow. “You did the same thing when I told you you were hired too.” 

Virgil shook his head, crossing his arms, his hand rubbing the spot Logan had grabbed as Roman gave him the once over. “No. It’s just a statement that not many people will find believable...apparently.” 

“Oh no, it’s believable, if I allowed your interview to be scheduled in the first place, but Specs.” Roman growled, glaring at Logan. “We agreed you wouldn’t interfere--”

“With your hires.” He finished. “I know, but trust me, brother.” Logan said stressing the word as he held out Virgil’s portfolio. If he was right, and he normally was, Roman wouldn’t be mad at him for long. 

Roman froze, hand already outstretched, eyes flicking to Virgil and back. “He?”

“Knows we’re related, thanks to you.” 

“To me! I haven’t said a word--” Roman denied, taking the portfolio and flipping it open as he leaned against the wall.

“Virgil, care to explain?” 

“I…” Virgil flushed under their combined stares, setting his chin stubbornly. “The Sherlock screenplay. I noticed that Logan’s name wasn’t completely covered when you took the picture and dug around a bit--Do people here really not know you’re related?” 

They both shook their heads. “No.”

Virgil scoffed, gesturing between them. “But you two look exactly the same!” 

“Only a handful know.” Logan clarified, pointedly adjusting the frames of his glasses. 

It helped that they weren’t often seen together. Most of their meetups took place in the privacy of their offices.

“Like three people--Spec’s does great as Clark Kent--” Roman jerked his head up from the portfolio. “Don’t tell me you hired him because he’s blackmailing you!?” He demanded, jabbing a finger at Virgil.

Virgil flinched, but took a step forward, eyes blazing. “I wouldn’t do that, Princey.” He growled. 

I’m quite used to being the villain.

“Princey?” Roman repeated, his own eyes darkening. 

Virgil faltered, glancing to Logan. “I--I---uh.” 

Logan gave him a reassuring smile, nodding to Roman “Go on, Virgil. Speak your mind.” He wanted to see if the new hire would actually stand up to his brother as he’d stated outside. 

Virgil set his jaw, taking a breath, staring Roman down. “I’m here because you were willing to give me a chance, sir. No other motive. I want to work here on my own merit. Not through...through blackmail.” He practically spat the word. “My Two Princes theory was just that. A theory until Lo--Specs here confirmed it.” 

Logan winced as Roman side eyed him. Busted.

"Well…color me impressed that you got Dr. Roboto here to confirm anything, kid. Usually he's sealed tighter than a jar of Crofters." Roman snapped the portfolio shut as the elevator doors opened. "Don't count your eggs though. I'm not so easily swayed." 

Logan rolled his eyes. Ah Huh. Yah right. "Page twenty-eight." He said tapping the top of the portfolio as they stepped out onto the landing. "Then you'll understand one of the factors that lead to me hiring Virgil." 

Roman scoffed. "One image led you to hire him over my head? Are you addled?" 

"I would…agree." Virgil said slowly, glancing between the two as he moved down the hallway with them. "Compared to my other works, I don't see how that one-"

Logan glanced to Virgil as he pulled open a door with Roman Prince written in cursive on the glass. He would see soon enough. "I can assure you both that my cognitive function has been unaffected in my decision.” He gestured Virgil to step inside. “Your overall work is beyond noteworthy and while the one drawing is A factor for my decision to hire you, it is not The factor. Your work shows a much larger variety than any others I’ve seen.” 

“The thing weighs a ton, I would hope it would show some range.” Roman said, flipping through the various works much faster than Logan had. 

A pity. His brother wouldn't be able to see the intricacies of each piece doing that, though of course he had encouraged Roman to look at one particular page. 

“I wouldn’t think you’d mind the size, Roman. You are the one interviewing for ‘fresh blood’ are you not or was there another reason you were whining to me just last night about the lack of talent in your department?” 

His brother made a face, not looking up as he kicked the door shut. "A Prince does not whine! I merely bemoan the lack of talent the kids these days ha--WHAT!?" Roman shrieked, loud enough Logan was sure the entire building heard him as he stared dumbfounded at page twenty-eight.

Bingo. Logan smirked, adjusting his glasses as closed the blinds on the windows to keep curious eyes at bay. He could already imagine the bets that Remy would be putting down on why ‘The Prince’ had screamed this time.

Roman whirled to Virgil, practically shoving the picture into the kid’s startled face. "You drew this?!" 

Virgil blinked down at the Sallyized version of Jack Skellington before raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Roman's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas as he set the portfolio down on his desk and pulled out his phone, swiping at the screen before he turned it to them both showing an online art account with the same exact drawing with the same stormcloud signature on the bottom. "You're telling me this is you? That you're--!"

"EmoKnightmare478?" Virgil ran his hand through his hair. “Yah. That's me, Princey, but how--why?" 

“YES!” Roman cried out, grabbing Logan’s his hands as he practically broke into a dance, waltzing them around the room before he switched to jumping up and down like an excited child at Christmas with Logan doing his best to just turn with his brother’s antics so he wouldn’t lose his hands. "YES YES YES YES YES YES!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, LOGAROO!! YOU FOUND STORMCLOUD! HE APPLIED! HE WANTS TO WORK--!! LOGAN! AHHHHH!!!!" 

“Am I...missing something here?” Virgil asked, resting a hand on his artwork, safely keeping his distance from Roman’s prancing.

“Roman’s been a fan of your account for the past couple of years.” Logan said simply, looking over his shoulder at their new hire. “He looks forward to seeing your bi-montly updates like one looks forward to opening presents at Christmas.”

Virgil went white, his other hand reaching to grab onto the desk as he swayed. “A Fan?” He squeaked. 

"OF COURSE!!” Roman finally freed Logan from his finger-numbing grip to fall down to his knees at Virgil’s feet, arms spread wide.  “Do you know how much I positively adore your twist on a Nightmare Before Christmas series, Emo Knightmare?” He asked eagerly. “Tell me. What would it take to commission you to draw the entire cast Sallyized for me? One large painting to hang there over my desk? Anything's on the table. Name your price." 

“I--I--” Virgil leaned back away from Roman’s onslaught, glancing to his portfolio on the desk. 

At this rate, Virgil would bolt because his brother was acting like a starstruck fangirl. Logan exhaled, grabbing Roman by the shoulder. “Roman, perhaps you should tone down the adoration and stop terrorizing your new hire?”

“He’s--He’s not--” Virgil drew in a shallow breath. 

Logan shook his head. “Well...even if he’s not, I shall assuage your fears anyway. You will still have your job even if you refuse, Virgil. Crofters forbid it doesn’t do Roman any harm to be told no every now and then.” He didn’t need him thinking that his twin wouldn’t hire him if he said no.

“Oh yes, your job isn’t ever in question with this, Stormcloud.” Roman said, slipping out from under Logan’s hand as he pushed to his feet and brushed off his pants. “Specs hired you and from what I’ve seen so far, I second it, but.” His eyes went wide and pleading as he clasped his hands together. “I will be very very very heartbroken and will be giving you super sad puppy dog eyes like this everytime you see me for the next--”

“Three hours?” Logan asked, adjusting his glasses as he pulled his brother back another step to give Virgil space to breathe.

Roman made a face. “I was gonna say a week, but probably.” 

Virgil swallowed, licking his lips. “You...really would…pay me? The Prince? Would...pay me?” 

“Of course! I said--” Roman turned to Logan. “Did I not say that, Lo? Any price. I said that!”

“You did indeed.” Logan nodded, though he could see how Virgil wouldn’t be certain. Despite his flamboyance, Roman was rather covert in buying from up and coming artists. He’d yet to hear any rumors of rumors from anyone that ‘The Prince’ had bought their work. He could see why there would be skepticism at the genuinity of Roman’s offer.

“Great! Here.” Roman took Virgil by the arm, pulling him to a seat at his desk. “Specs will draw up your contract for the position. Wages, hours, so on and so forth. I trust he was quite thorough in whatever interview he gave you right before you found me right? Right. But you and I.” He smiled conspiracaly, pulling up a chair. “Need to talk shop. Come on. Commission. How much?” 

Logan rolled his eyes, but sat behind Roman’s desk, his fingers already flying over the keyboard of his brother’s desktop to pull up the necessary forms to print out. “Of course, leave the boring paperwork to me.” 

“It’s what you’re good at Specs.” Roman waved vaguely in his direction, his full attention on Virgil. “Come on Virge, can I call you Virge? Name your price.” 

“I--I---Okay...uhmmm. Well…” Virgil rubbed the back of his head before dropping his hand to where Roman had touched him. “Were you actually wanting one large painting of everyone together or individual pieces that form a scene if placed side by side? 

Roman’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward. “I was thinking the former, but the latter intrigues me. What would be the difference?” 

“Well…” The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitched as he rested a hand on his portfolio. “You said name my price. Does it have to be just...monetary?” 

Logan shared a knowing look with his brother, identical smiles breaking out on both of their faces. 

Oh, their new hire was going to fit in rather well here if he was already thinking like that.

“No, no it does not.” Roman sat back placing his fingers together. “What were you thinking instead? A higher wage? A better position?”

Logan tensed. Why had Roman brought that up?! It was--

Virgil’s mismatched eyes darkened as he shook his head. “I told you, Princey, I’m not here because of blackmail or bribing. Personal commissions are and will always be considered separate from my job here. I won’t argue for things that I haven’t yet proven that I deserve.” 

That was--that was good. Logan slowly let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his fingers frozen on the keys. 

“Alright...but if your asking price doesn’t include money, power, or position.” Roman raised an eyebrow. “What then are you wanting me to pay in?”

Virgil visibly swallowed. “Well, I would charge per character of course, and for Jack.” He placed a trembling hand on his portfolio. “My price--” He licked his lips, but didn’t break eye contact. “My price would be that I can wear my hoodie to work.” 

Logan blinked. A...hoodie?

He again shared a look with Roman. It was an interesting choice, especially after his talk of not interfering with work, but then again, it was just an article of clothing. One that may put Virgil more at ease here than the ill fitting suit he currently wore. 

Logan returned his attention to the laptop. “You are aware that our dress code is--” 

“Business casual, yes.” Virgil said, pulling at the collar of his shirt, his fingers trailing down his tie. “And I can,” the corner of his mouth twitched in distaste. “follow that to a T, if this particular option doesn’t work for you, I promise. You just said--”

“Name any price.” Roman nodded, pulling out a pen and paper, quickly listing down a dozen characters from the movie. “For Jack.” He said circling the name and writing wear hoodie at work next to it. “I would allow the hoodie--but only at your desk. Any meetings, presentations, or red carpet events you’ll need to nix it.” 

Virgil let out a breath, relaxing as he gave them a large genuine smile. “Deal.”

To Be Continued Chapter 5

Taglist in Reblog

[silver-lily-louise]

No Competition - a Shadowhunters fanfic

Summary:  On her bad days, when she's feeling uncharacteristically insecure, Izzy worries about the feelings Simon used to have for Clary. When she confides in Alec, he realises that he and Magnus have never really addressed his childhood crush. Or the small fact that Alec still shares part of his soul with that very person.

A/N: There is NO Jalec in this fic. It’s just Malec having a chill conversation about Alec’s past crush, and Magnus feeling so secure in their marriage that it honestly doesn’t faze him. Please enjoy! <3

Read it on AO3, or below!

~oOo~

Alec’s position as Inquisitor doesn’t often bring him back to New York. It’s a little eerie wandering through the familiar halls, noticing the subtle ways they’ve changed in the months since he was last here. The lights seem a little starker, and the air a little warmer – but then again, perhaps he’s just grown too used to the soft glow of Alicante, and the northern winds that chill the streets of Idris.

The most notable difference is also the most intangible, and it takes him a moment to realise what it is. The wards. He and Magnus celebrated their first anniversary not too long ago, and his husband’s magic is a comforting, familiar hum over most places Alec finds himself these days – his office in Alicante. Their loft. Magnus’ arms at night. The same used to be true of the New York Institute, but in Magnus’ absence, Izzy’s obviously had to call in another warlock to maintain the wards. Most probably Lorenzo, Alec’s brain supplies; though whether that realisation is born of his fleeting familiarity with Lorenzo’s magic, having wielded it in Edom, or whether it’s just sensible to assume the High Warlock of Brooklyn is the one maintaining the wards, Alec isn’t sure.

He pauses a moment, clearing his head, and knocks on the door of an office that was his not so long ago. ‘Come in,’ Izzy calls, and Alec steps inside.

Izzy looks up from her desk with a smile, and stands to wrap Alec in a hug. ‘Hey, you. I wasn’t expecting you so early.’ ‘I thought we could get lunch before the meeting this afternoon. By some miracle, Lydia’s briefing actually ended ahead of schedule,’ he explains. That’s another weird fact of his life, now – his friendship with Lydia, which is warm and light-hearted despite their complex history. Alec often ribs her about the thoroughness of her briefings; she never goes over the allotted time, of course, but she’s infamous for being one of the only people to consistently use it to completion. I’ve found it’s important to take my time and get all the facts straight, she said once, a trace of amusement in her expression. I remember that once, I was at a particularly important political ceremony – and if I’d rushed it? If I’d reached the end before it could be called off? Well, right now I’d be married to someone who was completely wrong for me. I’m actually pretty sure he was gay. Alec had glared at her, trying to stop his traitorous mouth from twitching upwards to return her smirk. (Magnus had made no such effort, chortling in delighted earnest.)

‘How’s Simon?’ Alec remembers to ask, before he can get too lost in his own head again. Which immediately stops being a problem, because Izzy’s hesitation and hastily-covered unease seize all of his attention. ‘He’s good,’ she says, too brightly. ‘Yeah, he’s good.’ ‘Izzy.’ It’s not a question. He raises an eyebrow, in a way that he knows Izzy will correctly interpret as Come on, you’ve gotta know by now that I can see right through you?

Izzy meets his gaze defiantly – Magnus has always insisted that Lightwood stubbornness is genetic, though he admits that wouldn’t explain Jace – but after a few seconds, she sighs in mild defeat. ‘It’s nothing,’ she insists. ‘It’s stupid.’ ‘Maybe it is,’ Alec says with a shrug, ‘but if it’s bothering you…’ He trails off, because despite how far he’s come in terms of healthy communication, he’d still rather leave certain things – such as I’m always here if you need to talk – unsaid, as long as they’re understood.

Izzy’s always understood him better than most. She drops down into a chair, gesturing for Alec to take the one next to it. ‘It’s stupid,’ she says again, ‘and I know it is, because things are going great with Simon. He’s sweet, and kind, and I trust him.’ She’s silent for a moment, and Alec prompts her. ‘But?’ ‘But,’ she sighs, ‘I’ve had a long week, and I’ve barely seen him because he’s helping Clary readjust to the Shadow World. Which is great,’ she adds hurriedly. ‘Obviously, I’m so, so happy she’s back.’ Me too, Alec thinks, because his brain doesn’t have nearly as good a poker face as his demeanour. ‘But she and Simon… I don’t know,’ Isabelle continues, seeming a little frustrated now. ‘I’m not usually like this, and I probably wouldn’t be if I wasn’t so swamped here. But I can’t help thinking… it’s Clary, and Simon was crushing on her for years before I was even in the picture. No matter how good we are together, how can I compete with that kind of bond?’

Alec’s not sure what to say to that, so instead he just stands up, and pulls Izzy into another hug, feeling her lean heavily against him. ‘I could always ask Magnus to threaten him,’ he offers. ‘He thinks the world of you, and after eight centuries to perfect it, I bet he gives an incredible shovel talk.’ Izzy laughs, pulling away, and Alec feels himself smile. Mission accomplished. ‘It’s okay,’ she says. ‘Like I say, I’m just tired, or this wouldn’t even bother me. I trust Simon. And Clary, too.’ She wanders over to the coat rack, draping her jacket around her shoulders. ‘Now, you mentioned buying me lunch?’ Alec frowns. ‘Who said I was buying?’ He shakes his head in mock-disapproval. ‘Honestly, this Institute’s hospitality towards official visitors really has slipped, hasn’t it?’ They bicker like that all the way to the diner. Alec keeps an eye on his sister, pleased to see that she rarely stops smiling the whole time.

***

Alec wants to toss and turn, frustrated with this stupid insomnia, but he doesn’t want to wake Magnus. He sighs, his eyes not so much heavy as stubbornly being refused the luxury of opening again. Izzy’s words have been echoing around his head for hours, ever since he portalled back from New York – and now, lying in the dark without any distraction, they threaten to consume him with worry.

Simon was crushing on her for years before I was even in the picture. No matter how good we are together, how can I compete with that kind of bond? Alec’s hand shifts down to graze absentmindedly against his parabatai rune, and he sighs again.

He didn’t realise it until Izzy confessed her moment of insecurity, but Alec and Magnus have never really talked about Alec’s old crush on Jace. Magnus obviously knows about it – it’s one of the first things Magnus said to him, and it was maybe the first time Alec had ever been told that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Since then, they’ve been through hell together in every figurative and literal way, and throughout it all they’ve had such a whirlwind romance that there’s barely been time to think beyond I love you and I want you and always.

But now, Alec’s thinking that maybe they should have made time for this particular conversation. Though nowhere near as all-consuming as his almost-immediate feelings for Magnus, Alec’s crush on Jace was long-lasting and pretty damn significant throughout his younger years. And yeah, with the benefit of hindsight, he’s fairly certain it wasn’t even about Jace for the most part, besides the initial attraction; it was Alec needing an outlet for all his repression and shame, directing that side of him towards someone who he knew wouldn’t immediately hate him for it. And, if he’s honest, towards someone who he couldn’t have – so that he could hide behind that, instead of risking developing feelings for a more viable option, and then having to face them head-on.

But even if it wasn’t a typical crush, it wasn’t nothing. And Magnus surely has to know that Alec loves him, there’s no way he could think otherwise – but he’s been hurt before, too many times for any mortal to count. What if on the bad days, the ones when even the spark of Magnus’ magic seems to dim a little and the years seem to weigh heavy in his bones, he’s thinking along the same lines as Izzy after a long week? Remembering how Jace’s image appeared in front of Alec when they summoned the memory demon? How a part of his husband’s soul still belongs to a man he had a crush on for about a decade?

Alec resists the urge to sigh again, but Magnus’ breathing hitches anyway, and Alec rethinks – yet again – his semi-serious theory that his husband is at least a little psychic. He watches as Magnus’ face scrunches, his eyes shifting between gold and brown as he blearily blinks them open. ‘Alexander, what’s wrong?’ Alec huffs out a miniscule laugh. ‘Who says anything’s wrong?’ Magnus frowns, gently swatting at him. ‘Try again. Your thoughts are much too loud for everything to be alright.’

Alec swallows, wondering how he should phrase his concern. ‘Does Jace bother you?’ he blurts out, before wrinkling his nose in self-annoyance. Okay, in terms of tone, they’re apparently going for blunt and graceless.

Magnus’ eyes widen in surprise. ‘What?’ he says, a small, incredulous smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. ‘He’s annoying, sure; but he’s your brother, that’s essentially his job. Plus, since we moved, and he doesn’t just… show up at inopportune moments anymore, I’ve grown to like him a lot better. It seems he’s much more palatable in small doses.’ He laughs quietly – but when Alec doesn’t join in, his expression turns a little more serious. ‘Alexander,’ he says earnestly, ‘I knew your mother when she was still a Circle member. Never in a million years did I think that one day I’d be friends with Maryse Lightwood, but here we are. Trust me when I tell you that of my in-laws, your slightly-irritating parabatai is hardly the tallest hurdle to jump.’

Alec just shakes his head. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s not just that he’s annoying, or the, uh… boundary issues,’ he says, ignoring Magnus’ smirk because this is far too serious a conversation for him to use the term cockblock. Alec groans, settling back further into his pillow. He wishes he’d never brought it up, but it’s too late now. ‘I was talking to Izzy, and she was feeling down, because Simon was so busy with Clary that she hadn’t seen him much. And she started talking about how – you know, how he used to feel about her, and the… bond that still exists between them. And I just… I just didn’t want…’

Thankfully, Magnus’ face lights up in understanding, and Alec lets the sentence die unfinished. ‘Ah,’ Magnus says. ‘You’re worried that I may feel the same way?’ ‘Not worried,’ Alec says tiredly, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Just… I know it’s weird. And I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

There’s a few beats of silence, and then a hand is gently guiding Alec’s gaze back to his husband, who’s smiling softly. ‘Alexander,’ he murmurs, ‘it’s alright. I promise.’ He presses a chaste kiss to Alec’s lips. Alec’s eyes stay fixed on Magnus’ expression as they part. ‘Yeah?’ Magnus nods, still smiling. ‘Yeah. You’ve accepted my past without quarrel – well,’ he amends, when Alec arches an incredulous eyebrow, ‘with far less quarrel than I’m accustomed to. The point is, we moved past all of that. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I couldn’t get over you having a childhood crush?’

‘But it’s different,’ Alec insists, wishing he could just accept Magnus’ answer at face value and hating that he has to protest. ‘Jace is still in our lives. He’s still a part of me. That doesn’t weird you out?’

Magnus looks away for a moment, and even though he knows an instant platitude wouldn’t be enough, Alec’s heart lurches a little. ‘I’ll admit,’ Magnus says slowly, ‘that I don’t fully understand the emotional ramifications of a parabatai bond. I’m not a Shadowhunter, so it’s likely that I never will.’ He meets Alec’s eyes again. ‘But it doesn’t matter, because I trust you.’

Alec holds his gaze for a moment, a little overwhelmed. Magnus smiles again, more brightly now. ‘Besides,’ he says, shifting gracefully until he’s straddling Alec, hands either side of his head, ‘let’s review, shall we? You left Lydia at the altar. You pissed off Clave officials more times than I can count. You asked Stanley to turn you into a vampire so you could get to Edom; and when you managed to get there anyway, despite that brilliant plan falling through, you told me in no uncertain terms that you would stay there with me. Forever.’

He leans closer, his breath ghosting over Alec’s lips as he chuckles softly. ‘Not to mention, there were all those times you reminded me of that old superstition – how did it go? Ah, yes: Nephilim love once,’ he says, in a poor approximation of Alec’s voice that makes him smile helplessly anyway. Magnus’ smile widens in response, his eyes shining bright and golden. ‘Alexander, I hope you didn’t think you were subtle. Why should I worry about anyone else intruding on this side of your life, when any idiot could see how smitten you are?’

Alec leans up, closing the distance between them with a soft kiss, one full of promise. ‘Well, I guess you’ve found me out,’ he murmurs, a little breathless. ‘So I s’pose there’s no point denying it. I love you.’

Magnus gasps in exaggerated shock. ‘What a coincidence,’ he breathes. ‘I happen to love you too.’

It’s a long time before they get up and start their days, and the last thread of doubt in Alec’s mind settles. After all, it’s hard for anyone to be jealous when you feel like the only two people in the world.

~oOo~

[bellatriestowritesometimes]

An Unexpected Meeting

Spencer Reid x OC

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: An OC request by @mevrouwrozestudios which I’ve included below the GIF, (sorry for the wait & I hope this is okay!)

Warnings: Brief mention of suicide.

(GIF not mine, credits to creator)

Katherine lost her mother due to suicide at a very young age. She was the one that discovered the body and it still haunts her, it’s also the reason she wears her gloves. Since then she has developed a very strong bond with her father who due to his bookshop introduced her to books on medieval history and her passion began. Her mother had been very fond of gardening and after her passing Katherine began to take on the responsibilities of the large garden her mother created at their home. Therefore, she also became very interested in plants and their uses. She has a twin brother to whom she is a bit estranged with. After his mother’s death he became more distant and cold due to the relationship forming between Katherine and their father. He decided to join the army and leave. Katherine went on to get her masters in Medieval History and minor in Botany. She decided to write a few books once out of school that caught the attention of the BAU during a particular case involving Medieval Weapons as the weapon of killing. Dr. Spencer Reid had stopped by her father’s bookstore to inquire about the books and what she knew about medieval weaponry. She was then brought on to help consult in the case which helped the team catch the unsub. From then on a small spark started between her and Reid resulting in them becoming friends.

-

“They’ve found another body,” JJ poked her head into the small conference room the team had been given at the police station as she pulled her phone away from her face,

“And it matches our profile?” Hotch asked, an immediate frown forming.

“Unfortunately, by the sounds of it, yes…” JJ waited for instructions in the doorway as she watched Hotch sigh and observe the board filled with images and information about their latest unsub.

It was an odd case and one the team struggled to draw clues from. Any theory suggested led to a dead end and time was running out.

“I’ve got Garcia on the line,” Morgan brushed past JJ into the conference room, “I think she might be on to something,”

“When am I not, chocolate thunder?” She chirped over the phone that was now on speaker, “Now that we got the obvious out of the way, l was running some addresses through the system and I came across one particular one that might help you guys out,”

“Go on,” Hotch encouraged and for a split second his frown was replaced with hope.

“909 Marshall Ave is the address of a small family run bookstore that might be worth checking out,” she hummed, “An author and expert by the looks of it works there that might be able to tell you more about all the strange things used to torture all of these people,”

“Are you sure he’ll be able to help?” Morgan asked,

“Again, you’re asking all the wrong questions sugar- I’m always sure,” Garcia paused, “and you’ll actually be looking for a she, Katherine Campbell to be exact. She’s in her mid-twenties with a masters in medieval history, no doubt that includes medieval weaponry and I’m no expert but with what was found at the first crime scene, it might be helpful to reach out to her,”

Hotch seemed like he was processing the information he had just been given and wasted no time telling Morgan to take Reid with him and visit the bookstore.

 -

Pushing the door open a bell above Spencer’s and Morgan’s head rang. The store seemed empty aside from an older man standing by a shelf that overflowed with books with one in his hand.

“Hi, we’re looking to speak to a Katherine Campbell,” Spencer spoke as he moved closer,

“Who’s we?” He simply replied and turned the next page of his book.

“The FBI,” Spencer began but quickly stopped himself when the man’s head shot up,

“The FBI?” He furrowed his brows as his tone changed from uninterested to alarmed.

“No not the FBI- well yes the FBI, we’re from the FBI- I’m Spencer Reid this is Derek Morgan,” he motioned behind him where Morgan stood with an amused smile, “We just wanted to ask Katherine Campbell a few questions, do you uh happen to know where she might be?” He nervously asked as he gave the man a tight-lipped smile.

“I might happen to know a lot of things but why my daughter is wanted for questioning by the FBI is not one of them,” the man snapped his book shut as his timeworn face held a stern expression.

“We’re in town for a case and we believe that your daughter would be able to shed some light on a few things that we might have missed,” Morgan explained as he moved past Spencer who was now behind him.

The man narrowed his eyes before turning around and moving towards a case of stairs, “Kate, you have visitors!” He called out and a quick one second from Katherine followed.

“So, what’s the case to do with to have the FBI here?” The man tried to make small talk with the two agents, “It’s a quiet town, this one. Must be pretty serious?” He continued but his question was left unanswered as Katherine entered the room, a confused expression covered her delicate features.

“Who are these people?” She directed at her father, but her eyes observed the two men in front of her.

“They’re here for you,” he replied meekly, “from the FBI, they say there’s a case you can help them with,”

“The FBI?” She asked just like her father had earlier, yet her tone was filled with curiosity as she expectantly looked at the man with the long hair and brown messenger bag waiting for him to introduce himself. And his partner. But mostly just him.

“Hi, yes we’re from the FBI, this is Derek Morgan and I’m Spencer Reid. If it’s okay we would like to ask you some questions about a case that we’re currently working on,”

“Sure, I guess,” Katherine shrugged, “But why me? Is someone I know involved?”

“No we don’t think so but your interest- and degree,” Spencer added “in medieval history might be of some use to us,” he explained as Katherine raised her eyebrows at him.

“Here,” Spencer said as he opened his messenger bag and pulled out a manila coloured folder, “are some photos that we would like for you to look at,” he explained as he scattered various images out of the folder on top of the tiny counter that everyone was now gathered at.

Katherine frowned at the sight of the pictures, her brooding eyes observing every mark visible on the photos of the strangers she had never met before. She had no connection to any of them but couldn’t help the immense feeling of sympathy mixed with empathy that took over her. The sympathy coming from being human and the empathy coming from her late mother who had committed suicide when Katherine was young. Though the deaths were different, the heavy feeling of trying to cope with it all was the same.

“And then there’s this,” Spencer went back into the folder and pulled out more images, though this time they weren’t of people but of objects, well object. There was just the one pictured from different angles.

Katherine reached out and grabbed one of them, a thoughtful hum leaving her lips that were slightly pouted.

“This was left at one of the crime scenes,” Morgan added and Katherine’s hand drifted towards a different photograph in the pile of many.

“And that would be the crime scene,” Morgan raised his eyebrows and shared an impressed look with Spencer.

“Would you have any ideas on where someone could get these types of items from?” Spencer questioned, “Are there any off the radar clubs or auctions based around medieval weaponry, ones that may be limited to members only?”

“Can I see it?” Katherine asked and moved her focus from the image in her hand to Spencer,

“The dagger?” He furrowed his brows in confusion,

“Yes, I want to see it, not an image of it but the actual dagger,”

“That won’t be possible, its being used as evidence in a crime investigation,” Morgan interjected.

“I can’t tell you anything about it from some blurry photos, I need to see it, feel it. You want me to tell you where it’s from?” Katherine questioned earning a nod from both of the agents that had barged into the bookstore, “Then I need to see it,” she bargained.

Morgan opened his mouth to protest but Spencer had grabbed his forearm before any words could come out and motioned to move further away from Katherine and her father.

“Kid what are you doing?” Morgan kept his voice low once Spencer had finished dragging him away by his arm.

“Maybe we should give her a chance to look at it, you said it yourself that we could use any help we get,” Spencer replied whilst glancing in the direction of Katherine who was observing the pictures.

“You seriously think it’s a good idea to- oh,” Morgan paused and a smile began forming, “I get it now,”

“Get what? What are you talking about?”

“You like her,” Morgan teased.

“What? No- I’ve barely spoken to her,” Spencer objected and glimpsed at Katherine again to make sure she had no part in hearing any of this.

“But you do think she’s cute,” Morgan smiled as he slightly shifted and followed Spencer’s gaze that was still on Katherine.

“I think she’s the best lead we’ve had on this case so far,”

“Right...” Morgan dragged out not buying his excuse, “Well if you can explain to Hotch why you’re letting someone unauthorised tamper with the evidence of a crime scene, consider me your best wingman pretty boy,”

Spencer didn’t reply, only shook his head in response and walked back over to Katherine and her father.

“Well?” Katherine dragged out,

“The dagger’s back at the station, if seeing it would help you help us, we can take you there,” Spencer informed the brown-haired girl.

“Great,” she gave the two agents a wide smile, “I just need to grab a few things,” she said as she excused herself and went back up the stairs and returned with a bag.

“Okay, I’m ready to go now.”

-

A quiet thank you fell from Katherine as Spencer held the door of the station open and guided her towards the back.

“I’ll catch up with you guys, I’m going to see if the others are back from the crime scene,” Morgan said as he turned the opposite direction of where Katherine and Spencer were going.

“There’s been another murder?” Katherine asked Spencer to which he gave her a small nod.

“That’s why we came to find you. Anything you could tell us could potentially help us solve this case,” Spencer disclosed as he opened the door to a room that was filled with stacked boxes and by the window a board stood that had many lines and images connecting everything together.

“Well I would say I’m flattered but under these circumstances it feels wrong,” she gave Spencer a small smile, “This it?” Katherine pointed to the metal object that was pinned to the crowded board in a plastic bag.

“Yeah,” Spencer replied as he flicked the lights on.

“Is it okay for me to take it out? I’m already gloved,” Katherine raised her hands to show the black gloves that covered them.

“Sure, just be careful,” Spencer unpinned the plastic bag with the dagger inside from the board whilst Katherine removed her bag and placed it on the table.

“So in how much trouble are you going to get in for bringing me here?” Katherine asked as she delicately removed the dagger from the bag.

“Depends on how much you’re able to tell us,” he smiled,

“No pressure then?” Katherine matched Spencer’s playful tone as she began examining the object in her hands.

“Is this one of the books you’ve written?” Spencer questioned as he noticed it in her bag that was slightly open,

“Yes, I brought it just in case I needed it. Not all of us have been gifted with an eidetic memory Doctor Reid,” she responded with a fact she had learnt about Spencer in the car ride over to the police station.

“And do you need it?”

“No. This is an old Roman Iberian iron dagger, and one that could be worth a lot if sold to the right collector- why would someone willingly leave this at the crime scene?” Katherine turned around to face Spencer who was now holding the book from her bag in his hand.

“Sorry!” He quickly replied, “I should’ve asked if I could take it out,”

“No, no it’s fine,” she cut him off, “If this were mine and I had left it somewhere, I’d want it back…” Katherine tried to theorise with Spencer, “The pictures you showed me back at the bookstore,”

Spencer nodded and she continued, “some looked a lot worse than others,”

“He’s angry,” Spencer added as he caught onto where Katherine was going,

“Because he wants his dagger back,”

“Which explains the overkill of his recent victims, I mean the dagger was found at the very first crime scene of what’s likely to be his very first kill, he could’ve been too overwhelmed and consumed by the adrenaline that he simply forgot his own murder weapon,” Spencer finished,

“You lost me at overkill, the whole multiple murders part is way out of my comfort zone,” Katherine said as she adjusted the glasses she was wearing with her free hand.

“I can take you back if this is too much, I understand that it’s a lot to take in for someone who’s not used to this,”

“I’m okay,” she assured him, “really, I am,” she added once he gave her a questioning look, “besides you might need me later…”

“What’s later?”

“There’s an event, like a collectors type of thing where people are able to trade and buy all things medieval related, that includes weapons too, you might be able to find your guy there trying to replace what he lost,” Katherine suggested, “however it’s a members only event and you happen to have a member standing right here in front of you.”

“I couldn’t let you do that, it wouldn’t be safe- wait,” Spencer paused and a smile began creeping onto Katherines face, “You knew there was an event on tonight this whole time didn’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” Katherine tilted her head to the side, “It’s not everyday I get to hold one of these,” she held the metal dagger up, “I just couldn’t help myself,” she said and was met with a smile from Spencer.

-

“We have SWAT on call and the rest of us will be just outside if anything goes wrong,” Hotch spoke to the team and Katherine. At first they were reluctant to let her be part of this though her expertise and knowledge outweighed any of the doubts the team had.

“Reid will be with you but if you feel overwhelmed once you’re inside, leave through the front entrance, okay?” Hotch directed at Katherine and she nodded to show she understood.

“Okay, we’re ready to go then.”

-

“Are you sure you’re okay with doing this?” Spencer asked Katherine as they walked up to the building of where the event was supposed to be held at.

“Yes, I was sure before we left, sure when we got in the car, sure when I got out of the car and I’m sure now,” Katherine looked up at a concerned Spencer.

“Katherine! I didn’t know you were coming today!” An older female who stood by the doors beamed.

“I thought I would stop by, I also brought a friend,” she pointed at Spencer who was next to her, “I hope that’s okay, just wanted to show him round,”

“Of course! You and any of your friends are welcome at any time, you know that,” the woman squeezed Katherines shoulder and moved away from the door,

“Thank you. It was nice seeing you,” Katherine smiled at her and headed into the building with Spencer.

“A friend of yours?” He asked once they were inside,

“One of the first people to have bought and read my books, her names Ava,”

“She seems nice,” Spencer acknowledged whilst observing the people around him.

“She is. So, what’s the plan now? Anyone look suspicious to you?” Katherine questioned as she looked around her.

Spencer shook his head,

“Well I’m going to go grab some water, you okay staying here?” Katherine asked as she nodded to the small refreshments table in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, I’m going to see if I can find someone to talk to,”

“You should probably start with him,” Katherine pointed at a guy in a green jacket to her left, “Names Deacon Wood, into all sorts of daggers but I’ll be right back.”

Katherine left Spencer and walked towards the table and grabbed two bottles of water, another friend had said hello and they made small talk until she felt an aggressive tug at her bag.

“Where the hell did you find this?” A man barked behind her,

“I’m sorry?” She quietly said as she turned around to face him. He looked like he hadn’t showered or slept in days. Tiny cuts were scattered across his face, his right hand still gripping onto Katherines bag.

“This is mine!” He shouted as he continued to wrench at the strap of the bag.

The dagger. It was in Katherines bag. Slightly poking out because it was too big to fit. They had brought it for this exact moment. To see if anyone reacted the way this man did. This was a good thing; Katherine had just wished Spencer was with her when it happened.

“Sir I have no idea what you’re talking about now could you please let go of my bag,” Katherine tried her best to stay calm, her frantic eyes searching for Spencer.

The man was a lot stronger than Katherine was so when he pulled at the bag again but with more force, she lost balance. She closed her eyes in preparation for the pain of falling, but instead was met with a soft grip of two hands on her shoulders catching her.

When she opened her eyes, the room was flooded with the police and a lot of guns. The man was now on the floor with Morgan who was cuffing him.

“You alright?” Spencer spoke above Katherine. She hadn’t realised that she was still leaning into him and that it was him who caught her.

“Yes,” she breathed as she regained her balance and stood up straight, “thank you,” Katherine whispered.

“It’s okay. You sure you aren’t hurt?” Spencer asked worriedly.

“No, I think I’m okay,” she adjusted the bag that had left a red mark around her neck, “So I’m guessing that’s your guy,” she said with a slight laugh.

“Looks like it,” Spencer spoke as he watched Morgan drag the unsub out, “thank you for your help, it would’ve taken a lot longer to figure out without you,” he moved his gaze back onto Katherine and gave her a small smile.

“We happen to make a good team.”

-

It was past 10 pm now. Morgan had brought Katherine back to the bookstore hours ago. Her father had gone home but she was still there. She had a small greenhouse at the back of the store and figured after the day she’s had it was the perfect time to spend some time in there.

Katherine was halfway through potting a plant when she thought she heard a faint knock coming from within the bookstore. Heading inside she saw the shadow of someone by the door. The streetlights outside were very dim so she couldn’t make out a face.

She twisted the key and unhooked the small lock on the door.

“Spencer? What are you doing here?” She asked a puzzled look covering her face.

“I wanted to stop by before I left and the lights were still on, so I figured you hadn’t gone home yet. I also wanted to give you this back,” he held up Katherines book that she had left at the station.

“Oh,” she laughed, “did you read it?”

“I did,” Spencer nodded.

“What did you think?”

“I came back for the others,” he grinned.

“Do you want them signed too?” She giggled.

“That would be nice.”

“Come inside,” she motioned as she realised Spencer was still stood outside.

He thanked her as he closed the door behind him, “Has your dad gone home?”

“Yeah, he left a while ago. I wanted to work on the greenhouse so I stayed,” Katherine replied as she walked towards the back door.

“Greenhouse?”

“Yup, through here,” she nodded towards the open backdoor that led to a small garden with an even smaller glass house in the centre of it.

“Oh wow,” Spencer admired the plants that covered the greenhouse once he stepped inside after Katherine.

“I have a much larger garden at home, it was my mom’s actually. But since most of the time I’m here I figured it would make sense to have something small here too,” Katherine said as she put her hands into the pockets of the apron she was wearing.

“It looks amazing.”

“Did it end up being the right guy?” Katherine asked as she sat on a bench, Spencer doing the same.

“Yeah, it was our unsub. Thank you again by the way,” he turned to face her.

“I’m glad I could help,” she smiled and a comfortable silence fell between them both.

“Your mom, you said it was her garden, what happened?” Spencer spoke softly,

Katherine looked away and Spencer immediately apologised for asking.

“No, it’s okay,” she replied, “she died when I was young. Suicide.” Katherine kept her head low and focused on her feet.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer’s voice was delicate.

“You close to your parents?” Katherine asked and brought her gaze back up to Spencer.

“My mom, yeah,” he answered and Katherine nodded her head in response.

“Your neck,” Spencer without realising reached out and ran his fingers carefully over the mark that was starting to turn purple, “there’s a bruise,”

Katherines own hand rose to her neck and landed on top of Spencer’s, “It’s just from my bag, it’ll heal in no time,” she whispered, her hand still cupping Spencer’s, neither of them wanting to let go.

It seemed like they both started to inch closer. Not clear which one initiated it first. Their lips were only mere inches apart when Spencer’s phone began ringing.

“You should probably get that,” Katherine murmured disappointed at the loss of contact.

“It can wait,” Spencer replied and brought his hand back up to Katherines cheek, but the phone continued ringing,

“Answer it,” Katherine urged softly and Spencer reluctantly did.

“Yes?...Okay…I’ll be on my way…Bye,” he hung up and slid his phone back into his jackets pocket.

“Duty calls huh?”

“Plane’s leaving in less than an hour,” Spencer sighed,

“Well you don’t want to miss that,” Katherine smiled, “don’t be stranger if you’re ever in town, I’m here most of the time,”

“I won’t. But still need to do this,” Spencer said as he leant in and placed a gentle kiss on Katherine’s lips. Where the courage came from no one knew, but Katherine was glad.

“The Arnica plant is meant to help bruises heal faster,” Spencer spoke as he pulled away from the kiss.

“One step ahead of you Doctor Reid,” she nodded towards a pot that held the yellow flower and a large grin covered Spencer’s face.

-

requests are open

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: Cracks in Time Chapter 18

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: Cracks in Time Chapter 18 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 18/? SUMMARY: A little girl escapes the Time War when the Timelord’s return in “End of Time Part 2″. The newly regenerated Doctor must now raise the little girl while trying to find out why cracks in time keep following them around.

[A/N - First chapter of “Vampires in Venice”!]

Elise woke up and ventured out of her room. Where was her father and Amy? Just as she was about to go looking for them, they came through the doors with a man following them.

It was Amy’s boyfriend.

What was his name again? Roger? Reggie?

The Doctor walked up to the small Timelord. “Elise! What are you doing? You’re supposed to stay in your room until I come and get you”, he scolded her.

Her bottom lip quivered as her eyes went wide.

The Doctor sighed and picked her up.

“Told you”, Amy sang.

“Shut-up”, the Doctor muttered.

“Um, who is she?” Rory asked Amy.

“The Doctor’s sort-of daughter. Elise, you remember Rory?”

The Doctor handed Elise to Amy as he went down below the platform to work on the TARDIS.

“Umm, hello?” Rory said to Elise.

Elise just smiled and waved.

“She doesn’t really speak. She’s trying to, aren’t you?” Amy said.

Elise nodded.

“But she’s what? 4 or 5? She should be speaking by now”, Rory said.

Elise, ashamed, hid her face in Amy’s red hair.

Amy rubbed her back to comfort her as she glared at her fiancé.

“What?” he asked. He hadn’t meant to upset the little girl.

“Oh, the life out there, it dazzles. I mean, it blinds you to the things that are important. I've seen it devour relationships and plans”.

The rotor sparked and let out smoke.

“It's meant to do that”, the Doctor told them, “Because for one person to have seen all that, to taste the glory and then go back, it will tear you apart. So, I'm sending you somewhere, together”.

“Whoa. What, like a date?” Amy asked.

The Doctor put his goggles away and made his way to the platform. “Anywhere you want. Any time you want. One condition. It has to be amazing. The Moulin Rouge in 1890. The first Olympic Games. Think of it as a wedding present, because it's either this or tokens. It's a lot to take in, isn't it? Tiny box, huge room inside. What's that about? Let me explain”.

“It's another dimension”, Rory said.

“It's basically another dimens…What?”

“After what happened with Prisoner Zero, I've been reading up on all the latest scientific theories. FTL travel, parallel universes”.

“I like the bit when someone says it's bigger on the inside. I always look forward to that”.

“So, this date”, Amy said, breaking up a fight she had feeling was about to start, “I'm kind of done with running down corridors. What do you think, Rory?”

The Doctor pulled a lever. “How about somewhere romantic?”

When they landed, Amy helped Elise into her new harness and they left the TARDIS. They stepped out into a busy marketplace.

“Venice!” the Doctor said, throwing his arms out, “Venezia. La Serenissima. Impossible city. Preposterous city. Founded by refugees running from Attila the Hun. It was just a collection of little wooden huts in the middle of the marsh, but became one of the most powerful cities in the world”.

The Doctor continued to rant as they walked. “Constantly being invaded, constantly flooding, constantly just beautiful. Ah, you got to love Venice. So many people did. Byron, Napoleon, Casanova. Ooo, that reminds me”. The Doctor checked his watch. “1580. That's all right. Casanova doesn't get born for a hundred and forty five years. Don't want to run into him. I owe him a chicken”.

“You owe Casanova a chicken?” Rory asked him.

“Long story. We had a bet”.

A man stepped into their pathway and stopped them. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Papers, if you please. Proof of residency, current bill of medical inspection”.

The Doctor pulled out his psychic paper and held it up. “There you go, fellow. All to your satisfaction, I think you'll find”.

The inspector snatched the psychic paper from his hand. “I am so sorry, your Holiness. I didn't realize”.

The Doctor made a cross sign over his chest. “No worries. You were just doing your job. Sorry, what exactly is your job?”

“Checking for aliens. Visitors from foreign lands what might bring the plague with them”.

“Oh, that's nice. See where you bring me? The plague”, Amy said, hitting the Doctor on the arm.

“Don't worry, Viscountess. No, we're under quarantine here. No one comes in, no one goes out, and all because of the grace and wisdom of our patron, Signora Rosanna Calvierri”, the inspector told them.

“How interesting. I heard the plague died out years ago”, the Doctor said.

“Not out there. No, Signora Calvierri has seen it with her own eyes. Streets are piled high with bodies, she said”.

“Did she now?”

Rory took the psychic paper from the Inspector. “Er, according to this, I am your eunuch”, he told Amy.

“Oh yeah. I'll explain later”, she said, hurrying after the Doctor and Elise.

They came to a stop and watched a procession of girls in white dresses and veils from across the canal.

A man ran up to them. He went through the girls yelling, “Isabella!”

One of the girls knocked him down and they quickly left.

Now that was odd.

Since this was meant to be Amy and Rory’s date, the Doctor decided to leave them and find out what was going on. Amy didn’t want to run through corridors? Fine. He’d do it himself, with Elise of course.

The Doctor and Elise waited in an alleyway not far from the canal. When the man walked by, the Doctor popped out. “Who are those girls?” he asked him.

“I thought everyone knew about the Calvierri school”.

“My first day here. It's okay. Parents do all sorts of things to get their children into good schools. They move house, they change religion. So why are you trying to get her out?”

“Something happens in there. Something magical, something evil. My own daughter didn't recognize me. And the girl who pushed me away, her face, like an animal”.

The Doctor through an arm over the man’s shoulder and said, “I think it's time I met this Signora Calvierri”.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Guido ran up to the gates of the school yelling, “You have my daughter. Isabella!”

The distraction allowed the Doctor and Elise to sneak around to the water gate and get in that way.

The Doctor had tried to leave Elise with Guido, but she screamed when he tried to hand her over. Maybe Wilf was right. Maybe she was too attached to him.

They made their way down a stone staircase into a basement. There was a mirror on the wall and the Doctor walked up to it.

“Hello, handsome”, he said, adjusting his bowtie.

Elise rolled her eyes.

“Who are you?” a chorus of voices asked.

The Doctor spun around and saw five girls standing there. He looked at them and then back at the mirror.

They had no reflections.

“How are you doing that? I am loving it. You're like Houdini, only five slightly scary girls, and he was shorter. Will be shorter. I'm rambling”.

“I'll ask you again, signor. Who are you?”

“Why don't you check this out?” He pulled out a black wallet and showed them. The girls just stared at it until he flipped it around. He groaned, realizing it wasn’t his psychic paper. “Library card. Of course, it's with….He's…I need a spare. Pale, creepy girls who don't like sunlight and can't be seen in…Ha. Am I thinking what I think I'm thinking? But the city. Why shut down the city? Unless…”

“Leave now, signor, or we shall call for the Steward, if you are lucky”. The girls’ teeth turned into needles and Elise whimpered in the Doctor’s ear.

They started to come towards them, hissing.

“Tell me the whole plan!”

The girls continued to advance on them.

“One day that will work”, he muttered, “Listen, I would love to stay here. This whole thing. I'm thrilled. Oh, this is Christmas”. The Doctor turned and ran for the stairs.

Night had fallen.

“Doctor!” Amy yelled, running towards them.

“Elise and I just met some vampires”.

“We just saw a vampire”.

“And creepy girls and everything”.

“Vampires”.

The two jumped up and down with excitement, jostling Elise.

She whined and tapped the back of the Doctor’s head with her forehead, letting him know she didn’t appreciate it.

The Doctor stopped jumping as Rory finally caught up.

“We think we just saw a vampire”, Rory said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Amy was just telling me”, the Doctor told him.

“Yeah, yeah. The Doctor and Elise actually went to their house”, Amy said.

“Oh. Right. Well…”

“Okay. So, first we need to get back in there somehow”, the Doctor said.

“What?” Rory asked.

“How do we do that?” Amy asked.

“Back in where?”

“Come and meet me and Elise’s new friend”, the Doctor told them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elise sat in the Doctor’s lap as they came up with a plan.

Guido had a map of Venice laying out on the table. “As you saw, there's no clear way in. The House of Calvierri is like a fortress. But there's a tunnel underneath it, with a ladder and shaft that leads up into the house. I tried to get in once myself, but I hit a trapdoor”, Guido said.

“You need someone on the inside”, Amy told them.

“No”, the Doctor said.

“You don't even know what I was going to say”.

“Er, that we pretend you're an applicant for the school to get you inside, and tonight you come down and open the trapdoor to let us in”.

“Oh. So you do know what I was going to say”.

“Are you insane?” Rory asked her.

“We don't have another option”.

“He said no, Amy. Listen to him”.

“There is another option”, Guido told them. He pointed to the barrels behind where Rory was sitting. “I work at the Arsenale. We build the warships for the navy”.

The Doctor set Elise down on the table and walked over to the barrels, sniffing them. “Gunpowder. Most people just nick stationery from where they work. Look, I have a thing about guns and huge quantities of explosive”.

Rory got up and moved away from the gunpowder only to bump into a dead rabbit hanging near the fireplace.

“What do you suggest, then? We wait until they turn her into an animal?” Guido asked.

“I'll be there three, four hours, tops”, Amy told the Doctor.

He considered it for a second, admiring her bravery before he shut the idea down. “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. It can't keep happening like this. This is how they go”. The Doctor sat down on Guido’s bed and rubbed his face with his hand. “But I have to know. We go together, say you're my daughter”.

“What? Don't listen to him”, Rory told her.

“Your daughter? You look about nine”. He barely looked old enough to claim Elise was his daughter and she looked like him.

“Brother, then”.

“Too weird. Fiancé”.

“I'm not having him run around telling people he's your fiancé”, Rory said.

“No. No, you're right”, Amy said, finally agreeing with him on something.

“Thank you”.

“I mean, they've already seen the Doctor. You should do it”.

“Me?”

“Yeah. You can be my brother”.

“Why is him being your brother weird, but with me, it's okay?”

“Actually, I thought you were her fiancé”, Guido said, gesturing to the Doctor.

“Yeah, that's not helping”.

“This whole thing is mental!” Rory told Amy, “They're vampires, for God's sake”.

“We hope”, the Doctor said.

“So if they're not vampires?” Amy asked.

“Makes you wonder what could be so bad it doesn't actually mind us thinking it's a vampire…”

[1dffchallenges]

Not a Throwback

Written By: @fireawaynjh​

Characters: Sophie Kemper (OFC)/Niall Horan

Summary: Parenting is hard, anyone will tell you. But being a single parent is even harder. Niall loves his son more than the world and he would do anything to make him happy. But he soon discovers the sacrifices he will have to make. Dating his son’s teacher isn’t always the easiest. But can he make it work? Or will he have to sacrifice his own happiness this time?

Author’s note: pls excuse my terrible graphics also I changed my banner because i like to think I got better at photoshop; i did not

Warnings: mentions of drugs, alcohol, mild swearing

2012

Niall closed his laptop as the text from his girlfriend popped into the corner. He walked down the stairs to let her in with his usual smile. The smile faded upon seeing her dismayed look.

“Something wrong love?” he asked, stepping aside to let her in. Her arms sat folded across her chest as she walked in quickly. Niall grew increasingly more worried with every second she stayed silent.

“Babe what’s-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Niall stood in shock for a moment. His mind immediately thought about the fact that in a month he was supposed to leave for uni. He couldn’t work and study and be a father, that would be insane. He could see in her eyes that she was just as worried as he was. With a soft sigh he opened his arms and drew her close to him.

“How do you feel?” he asked as she pressed her nose to his chest. He could feel her shoulders shrug up.

“Alright I guess. I know I want to keep it.” Trying to keep the shock off his face, Niall nodded. She’d never wanted children before. It surprised him that she’d want to keep it.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“Three days,” she whispered. He nodded gently as he rubbed soothing circles over her back.

“You have my support no matter what Carls,” he assured her. He felt guilty for secretly hoping she wouldn’t keep it. He wasn’t ready to be a father and she never wanted to be a mother. It was stupid of them to think that this was a good idea. Of course Niall would never say any of that to her. He meant it when he said he’d support her. He loved her, he knew that for sure, and if she were to keep this baby, he knew he’d love it too.

The months went by and in early March of the next year the couple welcomed their son Killian. Niall found a job working at the tech shop, selling smartphones and tablets while he attended his first year of Uni. He switched his studies from music theory to applied business and began putting money away so he could support his new family.

The nine months had been hard and they’d battled their fair share of arguments. But Niall truthfully was happier than he ever could have imagined. He didn’t know why Carlie was so worried about having kids, already she was an incredible mum. He’d soon find that he didn’t know her well at all.

2017

Niall gripped the edge of the podium, refraining from chewing at his nails, as he stood in front of the judge.

“Mr. Horan you had no idea about the drugs?”

“No Your Honor.” he stated plainly. The past two months had been a haze. Carlie, his now fiance had been arrested for using and selling heroin as well as selling every other drug under the sun.

“You didn’t notice the change in your fiance?”

“I did Your Honor, I thought it was her new job and stress from taking care of a toddler.” She had lost her job a year earlier, the store she worked in went out of business. She told Niall she’d found a new one, in reality she’d started selling drugs for his best mate.

“And where were you during the days if she was the only one watching your son?”

“Working Your Honor, or at Uni. Our arrangement was I would work and get my degree so I could support the family better.” The judge nodded.

“Well Mr. Horan, Miss Aldon attests that your son was never around the contraband and that you played no part. I’ll review your testimony and we will resume next week with a verdict of custody.” He smacked the gavel on the podium, the crack echoing through the room. Niall sighed as he gathered his belongings and walked out of the courtroom.

“Mr. Horan!” Niall turned as he walked out the doors to see the lawyer Carlie had hired approaching him. Niall turned to him and raised a brow. “Miss Aldon is allowed visitors now. She would like to see you.”

“Does she now?” he snapped coldly. He knew he was just the messenger but he still resented the guy for representing Carlie at all.

“I’m sorry Mr. Horan, for everything this has put you through.” Niall thanked him before walking to the elevator and heading to his car. The jail wasn’t far from the courthouse, Niall knew he should get this over with.

Carlie looked exhausted as she sat on the other side of the glass. But it looked like exhaustion from worry about herself. It was different than the exhaustion he’d seen rising in her since Killian was born. He knew she was relieved to be away from the responsibility and that sparked the anger in him further. He gripped the phone and scowled as he held it to his ear.

“Niall I’m so sorry-”

“Shut the fuck up Carlie no you’re not.” he growled. She flinched. He’d never spoken to her with anything less than respect. Even through fights she could always tell that he loved her and that he respected her. Now she wasn’t sure what he felt.

“Niall I never wanted this to happen,” she insisted.

“I believe that, I know you didn’t want to get caught. Why in the hell did you even start the drugs if you didn't want to get caught?”

“Niall it was a moment of weakness. I’d just lost my job, no one would hire me only three days a week.. I was desperate, I went to the pub and Alec was there. He listened.. He understood how I felt.” Carlie sighed and shook her head. Niall knew by the fondness in her voice that it was more than just drugs with Alec.

“You fucking slept with him.. You fucking slept with my best mate.” Niall let out an exasperated laugh. “Unbelievable. I fucking propose to you and what do you do? You turn around and sleep with my best mate and start dealing.”

“I didn’t think it would go this far-”

“Of course you didn’t think! If you fucking thought about it you wouldnt have done any of it and we wouldn’t fucking be here right now!” Other visitors were beginning to stare at the arguing couple.

“Stop yelling at me!” Tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“Stop yelling?!” Niall laughed again. “I could fucking lose Killian because this shit and you want me to stop yelling at you?!” Carlie’s jaw dropped. “Oh so you do care about him.”

“What? Of course I care about our son Niall.” She looked hurt at the accusation.

“But you didn’t want to parent him right? That’s why you kept taking the drugs, so you wouldn’t have to feel the stress of a toddler?” She scrambled for an excuse and Niall knew that look too well. She hated to be called out on her shit and she always fumbled for excuses. “Yeah I fucking thought so. So thanks for everything Carlie.” He moved to hang up the phone but she stopped him.

“Niall wait! You’re right okay? It was too much, but I love Killian and I’m so sorry I’ve done this to you. If you see him will you please tell him I love him?”

“Goodbye Carlie.” Niall hung up the phone and walked back out the door. His heart ached as he got back in his car. All he wanted right now was to hold his son. Fear of losing him only worsened the ache and he thought about going to his mother’s house to see him but the social worker warned that it was best for his case that he not see Killian until the verdict was given. Instead he drove to the pub, in desperate need of a drink.

He ordered his double vodka soda and stared at the carbonated bubbles rising in the glass.

“Tough day mate?”

Niall set his jaw, not looking away from the glass. “Get the fuck out of here Alec before I beat the shit out of you.”

“Niall mate-” Niall turned to look at him.

“Don’t you try to explain yourself to me. I was gonna ask you to be me best man y’know that?” Alec swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing. Niall wanted nothing more than to punch it right now. “I don’t want to speak to you again, please go.” Alec didn’t argue and turned to walk out the door. Niall tossed back the entire drink and set the glass back down.

“Another please.”

2025

“Killian mate it’s time to get up!” Niall called from the opposite end of the apartment. The 12 year old groaned and shoved his head further into the pillow.

“Oi! I know you’re not up yet! C’mon i’ve pressed your uniform so you could sleep more now y’gotta get up so we can go.” Niall called again. Killian threw back the covers in annoyance and got up off the bed.

“I’m standin Da!”

“Good lad.” Niall finished wrapping the ham sandwich he’d thrown together, one for Killian and one for himself, putting Killian’s into the paper bag with a packet of crisps and some biscuits for his lunch. He put back the bread and mayo as his son came down the stairs in his uniform. The spoon Niall had laid next to a full cereal bowl quickly made its way to Killian’s mouth as he shoveled coco pops down.

“How’d y’sleep mate?” Niall asked as he poured coffee into his thermos. Killian shrugged and kept shoveling food into his mouth. Niall nodded knowing that was all he was going to get out of his son this early, finishing up his coffee before screwing on the lid and handing the brown lunch bag to Killian.

“Y’got your list of classes for today?” Niall asked. Killian rinsed out his bowl in the sink and nodded.

“It’s in me sack Da’ stop naggin me”

“I’m just checkin, not gonna be able to bring y’stuff if you forget this year.” Niall had just gotten a promotion at the firm he worked for. Before he’d worked from home settling all the accounts for the company but now he was on site working with the payroll side of the company. The pay was much better, even if the hours were complicated.

With in a few minutes Killian managed to finish off his breakfast and the two headed out to the car. Niall quickly pulled out of the drive and made his way down the street.

“Right what’s your plan for after school? Are you gonna go to Nan’s or what?” Niall asked.

Killian shrugged. “Dunno, James might be havin a few of us over or somethin.”

Niall nodded. “Just text me what time and where I need to pick you up yeah?” Killian nodded and the drive continued in silence. Niall pulled up out front of the school and Killian hopped out.

“Thanks Da! See you tonight.” Niall waved as his son jogged up the front steps. He couldn’t believe he was already a year eight. The time was flying by and Niall wasn’t sure how to feel.

The weeks continued with the same routine. Breakfast, work and school, home for dinner and whatever sporting match was on that night. On the Thursday of the fourth week Niall sat in the kitchen, looking at his calendar while he ate his breakfast. That night was parent teacher information night. He hadn’t called for a sitter and he wasn’t sure what he should do. Did Killian even need a sitter? He could always ask his mum to watch him. He glanced up at Killian as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl for some cereal.

“Y’alright?” Niall asked. Killian nodded as he poured the milk. “I’ve got your teacher night thing, d’you want to stay here or go to Nan’s?” Niall figured giving him the choice might help his decision process. Killian had never stayed on his own, but it was only a few hours and he was definitely old enough to take care of himself.

“Don’t matter to me,” Killian shrugged. Niall nodded.

“Right then I’ll just let Nan know you’ll be here and you can call her if y’need anything.” Killian nodded again and sat down to eat.

That night Niall anxiously searched for his keys while Killian finished his homework.

“Da I’ll be fine, the pizza is coming, you left me money just go.” It amazed him how perceptive he’d become. Niall nodded to his son and grabbed his keys off the table where they had been sitting in plain sight.

“Alright, alright. Call your nan if y’need anythin.” Niall grabbed his coat and darted out of the small apartment. He arrived at the school 20 minutes early but after an incident getting lost last year he knew he should allow for extra time. Fortunately, Killian’s registration room was across the hall from the room he had in year seven and Niall had no troubles finding it. He gingerly pushed the door open, not sure if anyone was in there, and a small brunette popped her head up. 

“Oh hello! Are you hear for parent night?” she asked, rising from her chair. Niall was surprised to see such a young woman seated at the front of the room. She couldn’t have been more the 26. As he nodded she walked around to the front of the desk with a bright smile, her dark hair bouncing softly as she stepped. Niall wasn’t used to seeing such a vibrant teacher, let alone a beautiful one. He returned her smile as he stepped forward as well. 

“I’m Niall, I’m sorry I’m a bit early, last year I got turned around.” A bashful chuckle pushed past his lips and he glanced at the ground shyly. 

“That’s quite alright. I’m Sophie Kemper. I’m guessing you’re Killian’s dad?” Niall raised a brow, worrying about how she was so familiar with his son already. “He looks just like you.” He let out a breathy chuckle as she explained. 

“Yeah we do get that a lot, I hope he isn’t given y’trouble in class,” he replied easily, folding his arms over his chest anxiously. He hadn’t spoken to a woman his age in a decade. Not one he wasn’t related to at least. He wasn’t sure what to do. 

“Oh no he’s great,” she smiled. “He’s a really lovely kid.” Sophie couldn’t deny the fluttering in the pit of her stomach as she spoke to Niall. He was much younger than the other dads she was used to talking to and he was far more attractive. She tucked her hair back shyly as she looked over at him. “Is anyone else joining you tonight?” She felt another flutter as Niall shook his head. 

“No, it’s just me.” Niall wondered if she was asking because she was the teacher or if she might possibly fancy him. “His uh.. his mum isn’t involved.” 

“I see well you’ve done a lovely job raising him, he’s truly a gem.” Niall smiled proudly at her compliment, figuring she was asking as the teacher. Niall was about to ask her another question when more parents walked in. Sophie walked up to them and shook their hands, introducing herself as Miss Kemper. Niall didn’t miss that part. Had he just caught her off guard and she forgot that she was a teacher? Or had she done it on purpose? He was pulled from his mental debate as one of the dads walked over to him. 

“Niall mate! Y’alright?” he smiled shaking Niall’s hand. His son and Killian were mates and he’s been more than welcoming to Niall. 

“Yeah doin’ well, yourself?” Niall replied. 

“Bloody brilliant mate, got all four kids in school full time now.” 

“Bet the missus is lovin that.” The two men smirked at each other. 

“That she is… speakin of, have you caught a look at Miss Kemper? Bloody well fit she is.” 

Niall chuckled. “Yeah she’s lovely, had a bit of a chat when I got here.” 

“Oi oi! Good on y’mate, get on that.” 

“She’s our kids teacher mate that’s fuckin’ weird,” Niall laughed. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake its only registration, go after ‘er mate she’s the fittest bird in this town.”

Niall was grateful for Sophie calling for all the parents to sit. He wasn’t wrong, Sophie was definitely the most beautiful woman he’d seen around the town. But she was his son’s teacher and that added all sorts of complications. Sophie gave a great presentation about how she would help the students be successful. It was clear she loved teaching and she was passionate about her students. Niall loved that about her.

He made his way to all the other classes before heading to the caf for the final discussion of the night. As usual the headmaster explains how parent volunteering works and why it’s so important for the kids. He knew the drill, sign up for the least time committing one before all the other parents get there. He grabbed a cup of coffee and wandered up and down the stalls of sign up sheets. He walked past a bright red poster advertising the pasta feed auction. He could help with that. It was coming up in a few months and he wouldn’t have to help much. 

“You helping with the auction then?” Niall jumped as he heard Sophie’s voice. 

“Oh um.. yeah I figured that would mostly be nights right?” Sophie nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m on the committee for it too, thought maybe my marketing degree my come in handy for once.” She giggled as Niall finished signing his name. 

“Y’studied marketing then? How’d you get into teaching?” 

She shrugged. “None of the big firms were hiring so I got my teaching certification.” Niall nodded. 

“Well that’s brilliant. If y’need any help with it let me know.” Sophie smiled and nodded shyly. “I um.. I was going to grab another coffee, do you want one?” he offered. She nodded and the two headed to the refreshment table. Niall Poured a cup for both of them, Sophie adding both cream and sugar to hers. A grimace flashed across her lips as she took the first sip. 

“I can’t believe I thought they’d actually get good coffee for this.” She shook her head but continued to drink in the caffeine. 

“Honestly, they could have at least gotten a Costa or something,” Niall agreed. 

“Exactly! Maybe sometime we could just go get a Costa.” She quickly realized what she’d just said. “Or not whatever, that’s probably weird-“

“No I’d love to, maybe next week?” Niall smiled as he pulled out his phone. “Put in your mobile and we can set something up?” Sophie beamed and took the device, quickly typing in her number. 

Niall returned home with the biggest smile. Killian was still awake not to his surprise. 

“Oi, y’didn’t tell me about all the ruckus you’ve causin at school.” 

Killian rolled his eyes at his dad’s joke knowing that he was just joking. He clicked off the iPad and turned to his dad.

“Can we watch the football?” 

“Yeah course we can mate, why d’y’think I’m here and not down the pub with Uncle Willie?” 

“Cause Uncle Willie never invites y’anywhere.” 

Niall chuckled. The kid had wit about him that was for sure. He sat down on the sofa and draped his arm over the back of it, clicking over to sky sports. Normally he watched every second of the match but tonight all he could think about was how heavy his phone felt in his pocket. He knew he was mere sentences away from getting to go out with a girl he fancied, he just had to grab the device and text her. But he thought about Killian. He had never dated since he was born, he didn’t know how Killian would react. But if he kept it to himself then it wouldn’t have to be an issue yet. 

Once he was all tucked away into bed Niall hastily reached for his phone. He pulled up Sophie’s contact and quickly typed the message he’d been formulating for the last hour. 

Hey it’s Niall… thought maybe next Saturday we could go for that Costa ?

He tapped his foot nervously as he stood in the kitchen, awaiting the response. In a minute nothing had come through and his anxiety was rising. With a sigh he tossed down the phone and walked to the fridge to grab himself a beer. The standard chime sent him diving for the device and scrolling to read the message. 

Yeah that’s perfect, meet at 10 ? 

Yeah that’s perfect see you then ! 

He breathed out a sigh of relief as he set down his phone again and took a long sip of his beer. 

That Saturday came faster than he expected and with Killian staying at a friend’s house for the weekend he had the whole apartment to absorb his nerves. He tossed on about ten different shirts before settling on a black polo and some grey slacks. He knew he was a tad overdressed but he’d rather look nice for Sophie. 

Once he arrived he got in the queue and looked around for Sophie. He was four minutes early, hoping that she arrived soon so he wouldn’t be awkwardly waiting for her. AS he took a step forward in line the door behind him opened and he turned to see who was there. He smiled as Sophie stepped through the door in a beautiful green dress that Niall couldn’t take his eyes off. He stepped toward her and gave her a polite hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Hiya love how are ya?” he greeted easily. 

“I’m good! I’m glad we get to do this.” Her smile was radiant, and Niall couldn’t stop himself from smiling more. They stood together as the line moved forward and as they reached the till Niall looked over at her. 

“What would you like?” he asked with a smile. 

“I’ll take a latte please,” Sophie smiled. She reached for her purse but Niall shook his head, ordering himself a latte before paying for both drinks. 

“Thank you for buying,” she smiled. Niall shrugged easily. 

“S’nothin, so how was your week? School not drivin y’mad?”

“No it never does, not yet at least.” 

“How long have you been teaching?” 

“This is my third year.” She smiled up at him as the barista handed over their drinks. “What do you do?”

“Nothin exciting really, I’m in the pay roll side of accounting at a firm down town.” 

“Well that’s interesting,” she giggled. Niall chuckled knowing full well she just wanted to be polite. 

“We both know it’s not.”

Sophie smiled kindly. “So what do you want to be doing?” 

“I wanted to do music, I was set in a program at Uni for music technology but when I found out Killian was on the way I had to do something more practical y’know?” Sophie nodded. 

“Do you play instruments?”

“Piano and guitar mostly,” Niall replied easily. 

“My mum would have loved for me to be a musician, she had me in cello lessons as a kid but I was honestly horrible at it.” Niall laughed happily. 

“I doubt you were horrible.” 

“No I was, y’know in the films when the kid gets their first violin and it sounds like a dying animal?” Niall laughed harder knowing that she played like that. 

“I’ll have to tech ya something easier and less horrible sounding,” he chuckled. Sophie flushed at the implication of further dates in the future. 

“I’d like that,” she smiled. They spent the rest of the morning chatting about jobs and getting to know each other. Niall desperately wanted to kiss her as they walked back to her car, but the moment didn’t feel right, so he simply hugged her and walked to his own car. 

Killian texted as Niall pulled into the apartment parking lot, saying he was headed home. He had just kicked off his shoes and tossed down his keys when he heard Killian bounding up the stairs, having walked across the complex from his friend’s house. Niall walked into the kitchen to grab some water as the door opened. 

“Hey mate how was it?” he asked, sipping the water easily. 

“Good, Collin has the new xbox.” 

“Sick, did y’like it?” Killian nodded and grabbed juice from the fridge. 

“Yeah it was cool, why are y’dressed up?” 

“What?” Niall frowned as he set the water glass down.

“‘Y’never wear your work clothes on Saturday and y’ve got on the good cologne.” 

Niall shrugged. “I met a friend for a coffee, that a problem?” 

Killian sipped his juice. “Was it a date?” Niall mentally cursed the child’s intuition. 

“So what if it was?” He cocked one brow testing to see how he handled the news. 

“That’s weird da you’re too old to date.” 

“Oi I’m younger than any of the other parents thank y’very much.” 

“It’s not a mum from the school is it? I don’t want a sibling.” Killian continued. Niall shook his head with a chuckle. 

“It’s not another mum mate, and it wasn’t really a date it was just a coffee.” 

“What’s her name?”

“Sophie.” Niall folded his arms and leaned back against the counter. 

“Are you gonna see her again?” Killian looked up with a tint of anxiety in his eyes. Niall knew the look well, he got like this any time there was a doctor’s appointment that could involve a vaccine or blood test.

“I was thinking about it… but if it bothers you that I date I don’t have to ask her out again.” 

Killian shrugged and put his empty juice cup into the sink. “I guess it would be alright.” Niall could tell he was on the fence. 

“Mate we talked about this, you can talk about how y’really feel I’m not gonna be mad.” Killian nodded but didn’t offer up any further discussion. “Let’s go sit yeah? Have a little chat.” The pair made their way to the sofa and sat down next to each other. 

“What’s on your mind then mate?”

“I just don’t know why you’re dating… you always said you loved mum.” He looked down at his lap. “I just thought you two would work it out one day and she could come home.” Niall’s heart ached at the confession. He’d kept the real reason why Carlie left a secret, wanting to wait until he was old enough to understand what had happened. 

“It’s not that simple mate I-“ 

“But why not? Why can’t you fix things with her?” 

“Because…” Niall was at a loss for words. Should he tell him? Should he lie? Should he tell him because he said so? He took a deep breath. “Mate y’have to understand there are circumstances to why she can’t come back. I do love your mum but she can’t come home.” He took another deep breath. “If you want the details I will tell you but it’s not something simple like a disagreement. And I don’t want to scare you.” 

“I’m 13 da I can handle it.” Niall smiled softly and wrapped an arm around him. 

“I know you can,” Niall pressed a soft protective kiss to the top of his head, mentally preparing himself. “You know that your mum and I were eighteen when you were born. We were so excited to bring you home and to have you in our little family. I finished Uni and worked while your mum took care of you at home. As you got older she’d leave you with nan so she could work too but when you were 3 her business shut down and she had no job.” Killian nodded softly as his father told the story. Niall paused to gauge his reactions before continuing. 

“She was devastated and rightfully so, soon she was back to work with a new job but she was constantly on edge and a little more irritable. I thought it was the stress of the job and taking care of a wild three year old. I got a job at the firm and it allowed me to work half days at home, half at the office. I wanted to take some pressure off of her and for a few months it did, and then one day I came home from work and there were police cars out front. It turns out that her new job was selling illegal drugs.” He noticed Killian’s eyes go wide in shock. “She loved you so much but she made mistake and because of that she lost you. She had to serve a jail sentence and when she got out she wanted to see you, but I could tell she had gotten back into when I went to go meet her. After that I told her she wouldn’t get to see you again. Last I heard she’s serving another sentence.” 

Killian sat silently, thinking about all the times he had imagined how happy they could be if she came home. He’d spent hours pouring over photos of their family and he had always wished to have that back. 

“Did you mean it when you said I couldn’t see her?” he asked after a long pause. 

“I meant it yes, that I would never choose for you to see her. But you’re close to being an adult, you can make your own choices now. And if you wanted to see her I can look into it.” Niall replied easily. He hated the idea of ever seeing Carlie again, but he had no right to stop his son from meeting her if it’s what he wanted. 

“Okay… so you don’t love her anymore?” 

“Mate I will always love her, but I can’t rely on her anymore or trust her.” Killian nodded. “So can I ask you again, is it weird if I date?” 

His son shrugged but the sadness in his eyes told Niall his answer. “I guess it’s not weird.” But he knew better, he knew Killian only wanted him to be happy, he nodded with a soft smile. 

“Come here,” he said softly as he held his arms open to hug him. “I love you, always will, and I’m always here for ya.” 

“I know Da, I love you too.” Niall released him from the embrace and Killian made his way to his bedroom. Once he’d cleaned up the kitchen and stuff Niall started on dinner, reaching for his phone to put on some music. He smiled to himself when he saw a new text from Sophie. 

I had such a great time today, what are the chances I get to see you again? 

Niall sighed deeply. He knew he could try harder and be secretive about his dating, but that wouldn’t be fair to Killian. 

I had an amazing time too, truly . I would love to see you again but things are really complicated right now with Killian I don’t think it’s a good time for me to be dating. 

She was quick to reply, the two letters sending his heart into his stomach. 

Oh

Sophie I’m so sorry, I hope you can understand I have to do what’s best for him

No I get it, maybe some other time then

I’d really like that ☺

Truthfully Sophie’s heart was in pieces. It had been years since she’d met someone she liked as much as Niall. Part of her feared the worst, that he didn’t have a good time and this was his way of not seeing her again. She didn’t think Niall was the type to do that, but then again she didn’t really know Niall. 

Weeks went by before Niall saw her again. He went to the school to help plan the auction and a smile crossed his lips the minute he saw her. She stood by the window waiting for everyone to find a seat, smiling as a few others bid her hello. Niall immediately walked over to her. 

“Hey…How are you?” he asked politely. 

“I’m fine.” Her tone was cold and unfeeling, something Niall hadn’t expected. 

“Look I’m really sorry Sophie, you have to understand I wish we could go out again-“

“We could Niall we very easily could but you’re making it complicated.” 

“It is complicated, you don’t understand the situation.” 

Sophie opened her mouth to reply but the meeting chair called for everyone’s attention. “Just forget it Niall, I’m not interested.” She stalked off to her seat and Niall stood in shock for a moment before grabbing a seat himself. He barely paid attention the whole time, not until he heard his name called. 

“Niall are you in?” He looked up to see the co-chair of the auctions staring right at him. 

“Uh yeah sure, whatever you need I’ll help,” he replied. 

“Great, that puts us at 10 bachelors for the date auction,” she replied writing down his name on a clipboard. Niall swallowed hard not realizing what he’d just signed up for. He glanced a look across the room at Sophie. She couldn’t hide her smirk knowing he had no idea what he was saying yes to. 

Niall continued to zone out for the rest of the meeting. A smaller committee had formed but because he was an “auction item” now – the chair’s words not his – he didn’t have to attend any further meetings, which he was happy about. As everyone stood to leave Niall pushed through to find Sophie. He wanted to clear things up but she had already slipped out the door. Niall sighed softly. He let himself out and made his way to the car to drive home. 

The day of the auction came faster than he expected. He soon found himself slipping on his one nice jacket and a tie, spending a few extra minutes on his mop of hair trying desperately to calm the gentle curls it formed when he let it get this long. A few drops of gel and a comb usually helped. He told himself he wanted to look nice for the auction but he knew it was all for Sophie. He’d thought about what happened between them and he realized that she deserved to know the truth and why things were complicated. 

He arrived at the auction a few minutes early, after dropping Killian at a friend’s house, hoping to pull Sophie aside. But when he got there she was on the top of a ladder reaching to grab a stray balloon that had floated away. He strode across the room to help her and talk to her, but the co-chair caught sight of him and scurried over. 

“Niall I am so glad you’re here. There was a mix up with the form and I need you to fill out these new questions for your catwalk.” She shoved a paper and a pen at him, leading him behind the stage. 

Niall reluctantly answered the questions, talking about all his favorite romantic moments. He wanted to tear the paper to shreds for reminding him that the one person he wanted wouldn’t speak to him. He turned in the paper and waited with the other bachelors like he was told. Some of them were teachers at the school, some were former students who’d moved on to uni but come back to help, and some were other parents just trying to raise money. He had a chat with a few of them, asking about their answers to the questions and if they had any one they knew would bet on them. He grew more and more anxious as the auction began. They had a few pints for the bachelors to sip on but Niall knew if he had one it would only make him more nervous. Niall wasn’t an arrogant guy but it wasn’t a secret that he was the most conventionally attractive of the group. 

Soon they were lining up and the music blared in their ears as they got closer to the stage. A few of the other dads went before him and were getting bids of 50 or 60 pounds. One of the uni students went for 75, Niall didn’t want to think about how wrong that was. As he neared the edge of the stage one of the chairs came shuffling up to him. Holding out a guitar. 

“You said you love music I thought you could play! The music teacher assured me that it was already tuned and everything!” She beamed as Niall awkwardly took the instrument. He thought the idea was ridiculous but guitar playing was something he knew and it would give him something to focus on while he was up there. When his turn came he strummed at the guitar, the music lowering so he could be heard and he tuned it slightly as he walked across the stage. The headmaster read off his form, advertising him as a handsome sinlge man with endless talent and charm. Niall held back a laugh as he started strumming a tune he’d written as a teenager. The women in the audience were eyeing him up and down so he changed up his tune and began to play something everyone would know. 

“I found a love, for me. Darling just dive right in, follow my lead.” His voice floated over the crowd and soft gasps sounded in return. Niall scanned the room for Sophie, wondering if she was still there. He saw her at the back of the crowd, organizing a few of the silent auction items, but she’d stopped and was looking right at him. 

Truthfully Sophie was doing everything she could to not throw up from the wave of affection that coursed through her body as Niall started singing. That song had been her favorite when she was younger. Not that he knew that, but it definitely made it harder to not like him. She wanted to forget him and to move on from this little crush she had, but his smooth and rich voice overwhelmed her, and she found herself wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in his embrace, to smell him, kiss him, love him. As he finished the song the bidding began. She could see a group of moms definitely old enough to be his mother getting ready to bid. She knew he would die of embarrassment if he had to spend an evening with any of them. The amount grew higher and higher, passing 100 pounds in a matter of minutes. The bids began to slow at 125, 15 pounds higher than what the gym coach went for, a she could see the primal desire in the highest bidder’s eyes and she threw up her hand on going twice. 

“145.” Everyone turned to look at her. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but the headmaster yelled sold and everyone began clapping. 

Niall couldn’t hide his smile as he saw Sophie’s hand go up. This was his chance to apologize. Once the auction finished the men were released out into the mis to introduce themselves to the women who bid for them. Niall made a beeline for Sophie who stood by the refreshment table. She had a glass of wine in her hand and what Niall didn’t know is that it was her third since she’d bid on him. She wanted to drink away those feelings that arose. 

“Don’t worry about the date, you’re off the hook.” Her eyes moved slowly due to the alcohol and Niall swallowed. 

‘Sophie you did nearly 150 quid on me, I’m gonna take you out,” he countered. 

“Don’t want you to,” she replied as she took another sip. Niall steadied her had she sloshed the cup a little too much. 

“Then why did you bid?” 

“Cause Mrs. Wannabe-Cougar was gonna rip you to pieces if she won.” Niall smiled softly to himself. He could hear the slight hint of jealousy that carried in her voice but he didn’t acknowledge it. 

“Well then let me thank you for saving me from my impending doom,” he chuckled. “And so I can apologize for what happened the last time we went out.” 

“So you can just get up my hopes and bring them back down again?” She was being nasty and a part of her knew that but she’d had too much wine to stop herself. “I really liked you Niall and you just shut it down because it was too complicated for you. It’s not complicated, you like me or you don’t so just be honest.” 

“I do like you, I like you so much Sophie. Please just let me have a chance to make it up to you, what are you doing next Saturday?”

“Chaperoning the school dance.” 

“Great I’ll take you to dinner beforehand.”

“No.” 

“Sophie please just one chance.” 

She regretted all the wine she had. If she were sober she would have held fast, but here, looking at him and his charming smile, she couldn’t say no. 

“Fine. But you have to meet me at the dance and chaperone with me. No dinner no flowers no nothing.”

“Great, I’ll see you there.” Niall wanted to stay and talk to her more, but he’d just won a small victory, he wasn’t going to risk it now. He stayed long enough to help clean up before he went home. 

When he walked in the door he saw his mother sitting on the sofa. 

“Is everything okay? Where’s Killian?” he asked looking down the hall immediately. She got up and put her hands on his arms to calm him. 

“Shhh, he’s fine. One of the boys at the party got sick so they had everyone go home, he called me to come get him cause he knew you’d be having a good time tonight and I’d be sitting at home watching the telly,” she assured him. Niall breathed out a sigh of relief. “I swear Niall James you need to worry less. You’ll be going grey before you’re 35.” 

“Like you didn’t worry about me and Greg,” he chuckled. 

“Yeah well you lot were worth worrying about, that little boy is an angel.” 

“I know… that’s why I worry, I don’t want anything to happen to him or for him to stop liking me.” 

“Niall he’s a teenager there is going to come a time when he doesn’t like you.” She paused for a moment. “He said you went on a date.” 

“It was sort of a date yeah.” 

“Is she nice?”

“She’s brilliant mum, absolutely brilliant… but she’s one of his teachers, and I don’t think he’s ready for me to date yet.” 

“Oh bollocks he’s a boy he thinks anyone dating is weird! You remember how you and Greg were when I started dating again.” He couldn’t argue with that

“That’s true I guess. I told him about Carlie….”

“He told me, he seems to be handling it well.” She smiled. “So when are you seeing this girl again. 

“Saturday, but it’s not a date. She’s not happy with me for not asking her out again.” His mother let out a sigh already knowing how the situation must have arose.

“Niall stop letting Killian get in the way of your happiness. Being a parent doesn’t mean you give up your own life, it means you just have theirs to consider too. If you like this girl then you apologize to her and you make it bloody work.”

“But what about-“ 

“Nope, this is about you Niall. Not Carlie, not Killian, not anyone but you.” Niall hated when his mother was right. It amazed him how she could still make him feel like a kid in trouble even now at 32. He sighed and nodded. 

“Alright... I’ll talk to her. Are y’gonna stay here tonight? I can sleep on the sofa.”

“No I’ve got to head home. I love you sweetheart, take care of you too okay?” 

“I promise mum. I love you.” He hugged her goodbye before walking her to the front door. He sighed as he closed the door, leaning back against it. As his eyes closed his mind wandered to Sophie and how cute she looked when she was drunk. He stood up thinking about how drunk she was and quickly reached for his phone to text her. 

Hey, I know you had a few tonight just wanted to check that you had a way home tonight 

Thank you I did make it home . 

Glad to hear . I’ll see you Saturday then . 

He slid his phone away and made his way to his room. Within minutes he was asleep in his clothes but he truthfully didn’t care. 

The following Saturday came too fast for Niall’s liking. But he dressed in his same jacket, different shirt, and headed out the door at 7:30. It took him a minute to find Sophie But once he caught sight of her navy dress he knew there would be no way he’d lose sight of her again that night. He walked over to her with a soft smile and he was surprised when she returned it. 

“Hi,” he said softly. 

“Hi,” she replied. “You look nice.” 

“You look absolutely beautiful.” A soft flush rose to her cheeks. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” 

“I can’t leave the room,” she replied softly. “But we can talk here.” Niall nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Well I wanted to explain why-“ 

“Ms. Kemper I think some of the boys are making fun of Elizabeth,” a small girl stated, looking up at Sophie with big round eyes. Sophie nodded and turned to Niall. 

“I’ll be right back.” She followed the girl across the dance floor to settle the issue. Niall didn’t mind, she was doing her job. But the pattern continued He’d get two sentences out and someone would interrupt. He was starting to get frustrated. He was grateful when more chaperones showed up so Sophie wasn’t the only one being turned to. He chuckled in annoyance when the DJ slowed the music to talk, interrupting him yet again. 

“Alright you guys we’re going to slow things down with a throwback song. Lads pick a girl y’fancy and ask her to dance.” 

Niall smirked and held out his hand. “Shall we?” Sophie blushed but she took his hand and walked with him to the edge of the dance floor. 

“Maybe you’ll finally get to tell me what’s on your mind.” 

Neither of them knew what to expect for the throwback, but it wasn’t Ariana Grande. 

“Dear god is this what they’re calling a throwback?” she asked in shock. “I remember when this song came out that wasn’t that long ago!”

“Which one is this?” Niall asked trying to recall the title before the lyrics started. 

“Tattooed Heart.” 

“Oh that’s right! Bloody hell this song isn’t even fifteen years old yet how is it a throwback?” 

“I have no idea,” Sophie laughed. “I bet you can’t hit the high notes.” 

“Oh really? Cause I sing this song in the shower everyday.” Sophie laughed as he chuckled, her forehead coming to rest on his shoulder as they swayed. “No it doesn’t have to be forever just as long as I’m the name on your tattooed heart.” Niall scrunched his face as he tried to hit the high notes and Sophie laughed even more. 

Silence fell over them after a moment and Sophie took a deep breath. 

“So what have you been trying to tell me?” she asked after the pause. 

“Right… well I’ve been beating around the bush… I just need to come out with it. Killian’s mum is the reason why things are complicated.” He saw the hurt flash across her face. “She’s not involved I promise, but she is a huge part of why I need to be careful with dating. When Killian was three she got into drugs, and when he was four she got arrested for dealing. I almost lost custody of Killian at first. Since then she’s been in and out of rehab facilities and prison. And before this year I never told Killian, I didn’t want him thinking of his mum horribly you know?” Sophie nodded, her expression full of compassion. “But because of that he always thought there was a chance of us getting back together. So me starting to date was rough for him and I talked to him and I was worried he wasn’t ready so that’s why I told you things were complicated.” 

“Niall I’m so sorry for being cold to you, I should have trusted your judgment-“

“No Soph, this is on me, I should have given you a better explanation and I also shouldn’t have just pushed you away. I forget sometimes that I’m allowed to do things for me, they don’t all have to be centered around Killian.” 

“We can take things as slow as you need to. I want Killian to be comfortable too.” 

“I hope you know I really do like you Soph.” 

“I like it when you call me that,” she smiled. The music slowed but they didn’t stop dancing. Niall’s head dipped down slightly just as hers tipped up. He Felt anxiety bubble inside him, he hadn’t kissed a woman in 8 years but everything about this felt right. His lips gently pressed against hers as the music came to a stop, their swaying doing the same. He knew it would be a long road dating Sophie but he knew it would all be for the best.