#matthew fairchild fanfiction

[caterpillarinacave]

"You'd be a good father, you know.”

 “Me? A father?” Magnus gave a half laugh, sounding both incredulous and a little startled “Somehow I don’t think that would go very well.”

“I disagree” Henry responded, successfully fitting a second mitten on his son’s hand.    “You’re a very kind person.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think- Well,” Magnus sighed, then shook his head “Besides the destruction I would wrought on an impressionable young mind, warlocks can’t have children. You know that, Henry.”

Henry held up a finger, pausing the conversation to address the toddler in his lap.

“Matthew, you must keep your mitten’s on when we are outside. Will you do that?” He received an earnest nod of confirmation from his little boy. “That’s a good boy.” 

Henry pressed a kiss to Matthew’s forehead, before setting him down and sending him off with a pat on the head. 

“You know, Magnus, you needn’t conceive a child to be their father,” Henry continued addressing his friend once again “And for what it’s worth, I think you would make an exceptional parent.”

Magnus opened his mouth to respond, but found himself robbed of the chance by the delighted high pitched shrieking of a child who seemed to have deemed the majority of his clothing overly restrictive; and he was now running amok, minus his jacket, shirt, hat, and shoes. Although, Magnus observed, to the child's credit, Matthew was still wearing his mittens.

- Snippet of Magnus Bane centric WIP

#theyre besties<3 #ngl this fic will be sad #magnus bane #matthew fairchild #henry branwell #henry fairchild #tid #tsc #tlh #the shadowhunter chronicles #the infernal devices #the last hours #wip #fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #my writing #malec #well malec is later in the fic

[vwritesaus]

TSC WIP snippets pt. 1

this is a RATHER LONG POST sorry so i will put everything under the cut :>

to @faithfromanewperspective:

      ‘Is this Adelaide?’ Thomas asks in a high voice, his tone coloured with surprise. ‘I see no churches at all…’       ‘It’s just… sand,’ Alastair mutters by way of agreement. …       ‘Apologies for the intrusion,’ Thomas begins, grinning shyly, ‘but I think we’re lost.’       ‘Lost!’ The man bursts out into crowing laughter and slaps Thomas on the shoulder. Alastair winces from the force of the action and the sound echoing in the chamber. ‘Let me guess—you were bound for Adelaide?’       Thomas blinks. ‘How did you—?’       ‘You’ll be amazed how many Shadowhunters end up here instead of Adelaide,’ the man tells him. ‘I swear, ever since those Portals became popular, our travelling system has gone to the dogs! You can’t go wrong with a horse and carriage, or just a horse, but no—you simply must travel by Portal now. Extremely unreliable, I say.’

to my four lovely anons:

1—       When Thomas peers into the box, whatever remaining confusion was on his face vanishes. He stares blankly at the inside, his fingers frozen in place against the corners, and Alastair feels part of his stomach drop.              ‘Alastair… what is this?’ Thomas asks softly.        Alastair is grateful to find no disappointment or annoyance imbued in his voice—and then immediately chastises himself for thinking something so ridiculous in the first place. This is Thomas, the man who took his heart and holds it like it's precious and worthy and wanted. The man who saw past all the nastiness, the cold front Alastair had put up for so many years, and continued to love him regardless.       The man who Alastair wants to spend the rest of his life with, no matter the odds. So he clears his throat slightly, shaking away the anxiety, and says, ‘It’s my ring, Tom,’ as though he is merely commenting on the weather.       ‘I can see that,’ Thomas replies. He lifts his gaze and sets it on Alastair, his eyes glimmering with an emotion Alastair can’t quite put his finger on. ‘Why is it in a box?’

2—       ‘Your father won’t bite him,’ Sophie tells him, a shadow of an amused smile on her face. ‘I imagine he merely wants to get to know him better.’       Thomas shifts in his seat and glances once more at the open doorway Gideon and Alastair have just walked through.       ‘I know,’ he murmurs, ‘and for that, I’m so glad. Only, Alastair… I know he’s feeling nervous.’       ‘Whatever for, love?’       Smiling furtively, Thomas looks at his mother and says, ‘He wants to make a good impression. He’s very conscious of his—how did he put it? “Prickly personality”.’

3—       Charlotte came into this marriage with the sole belief that he’ll fall in love with her in time. That no matter how long it took, she would see it through for the rest of their lives. Because she loves him, and love withstands the test of time no matter how hard a situation becomes.       Now… now, she’s not so sure.       Perhaps it’s time to realise that Henry will never love her.But she loves him. She can’t deny that, and she never could. She loves him, and she’ll live with that knowledge until she draws her last breath. But she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep her true feelings behind an alabaster mask of indifference, or hide her face in the pillow when Henry looks at her for too long, or press down the flutters her heart does whenever he does something silly, or makes a breakthrough with an experiment, or merely smiles at her.       And yet, perhaps all she can do is break her heart fully and accept that, like her position at the London Institute, her marriage to Henry isn’t something that can last forever. That perhaps love can’t withstand the test of time, after all.       That not even five years of being together could have Henry fall in love with her.

4—       ‘There’s no need to panic,’ Thomas says softly. ‘I’m right here, aren’t I? You’re safe.’       There’s a beat of silence after Alastair sucks in a shuddering breath, during which he stares at Thomas with wild, terrified eyes. Then an odd flutter crosses his face, his expressive eyebrows dipping dangerously close to the middle of his forehead.       ‘I’m—I’m safe?’ he splutters. ‘You think… you think—? Oh you… you stupid man.’       He grabs Thomas by the shoulders, not giving the man a chance to feel anything except confusion, and shakes him violently.       ‘It’s not myself I’m worried about,’ Alastair croaks out. ‘It’s you.’

to @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone:

      ‘The point I wish to make,’ Alastair interrupts, ‘is that during that picnic, Fairchild and I had a rather… frank conversation.’       ‘About?’       ‘As far as I recall, it had something to do with an autumnal masquerade ball up in Cambridge which promises to have formal attire, a range of posh sorts, and an abundance of alcohol.’       Thomas blinks in astonishment. ‘Cambridge?’ he echoes.       ‘Quite,’ Alastair says in a sombre tone, and Thomas laughs. ‘Yet… I suppose it would be a different venture than our usual nightly strolls and patrols.’       ‘It would,’ Thomas replies with a nod.       ‘And it would be rather dire to attend such an occasion without Fairchild’s opulent outfits and charming personality, but it does bring forth the opportunity to be alone with each other without the need to entertain a third party.’       ‘I wholeheartedly concur with that statement.’       Alastair is about to say something else, but stops himself. He instead purses his lips and narrows his eyes at Thomas. Thomas merely stares back expectantly, trying his hardest to keep his expression neutral. He knows what’s about to happen, and grins inwardly when, like clockwork, Alastair visibly withers.        ‘Are you really waiting for me to ask?’ he states in exasperation.       A large smile overtakes Thomas’s face at the question, and he leans in until their noses are mere inches apart. He relishes how Alastair’s eyes widen at the sudden proximity—always so full of surprise whenever Thomas does this—and quickly kisses him before he can protest or say anything.       ‘You refer to waiting for my beloved to ask me to attend a masquerade ball with him in Cambridge, correct?’ Thomas lowers his voice until it’s the softest whisper and says with utmost severity, ‘If so, then yes, I am.’

and last, but certainly not least, to @drunkonimagination:

      ‘Welcome home.’ Pulling back slightly, Thomas kisses Alastair’s curved mouth and presses their foreheads together. ‘Goodness—Raziel, have I missed you.’       There’s a soft snort, and long fingers brush over Thomas’s shoulders. Alastair’s voice is light as he says, ‘Last I checked, Thomas, I am not Raziel. Have I been gone so long that you mistake me for an archangel?’       ‘Yes, mi amor,’ Thomas replies playfully, ‘you’ve been gone far too long. You must remind me exactly who you are, and it must be done now. Before it is too late and I forget who you are completely.’       Alastair laughs loudly, and is still laughing when Thomas presses fast kisses all over his face.

also yes you read that correctly, it does say "pt. 1". pt. 2 will be posted sometime this weekend, and it'll be snippets from the remaining chapters of dear christopher and ch2 of timeless, so stay tuned if you're interested!!! :D

#the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #the last hours #tlh #the infernal devices #tid #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #sophie collins #sophie lightwood #gideon lightwood #charlotte fairchild #henry fairchild #henry branwell #matthew fairchild #thomastair #sophideon #chenry #fanfiction preview #hope you guys enjoy hehe

[heronchildlove]

Ok, so I don't have the energy for a proper fic but I can't get this idea for a "drama student moonlighting as a live model for art classes to get some extra bucks" Matthew au out of my mind and it's gonna drive me crazy if I don't share it, so here it is. Under the read more cause it got a bit long:

Thomas heard Alastair is attending that specific art class but he is too nervous to go alone so he begs James to go with him.

James is all "Tom, I can't draw a straight line, WHAT am I going to do in an art class????"

He goes anyway because Thomas is his cousin and he isn't going to let him down and just resigns himself to drawing the worst fruit bowl any human has ever seen.

Except the teacher walks in accompanied by the most beautiful guy James has ever seen instead and he barely gets to register this is a life drawing class because he is too busy gawking at the guy and omg he just winked at James and his entire brain short-circuited.

The guy's name is Matthew and he is a drama student and he is very happy to be there and be able to help and of course the guy is an actor, James thinks, he looks like a renaissance painting and sounds like an angel.

The teacher sends the guy into a back room to get ready and James tries to pull himself together and pretend he knows what he is doing as he tries to set up his paper and charcoal. He was going to ask Tom for help but he is already busy trying to start a conversation with Alastair and he doesn't want to interrupt them but it's ok he thinks he has got this.

That is, until Matthew comes back in a robe and, and on a cue from the teacher, takes off the robe and does his first pose, and James thinks he is hallucinating because it seems like he isn't wearing anything under the robe.

Oh. My god. He isn't wearing anything under the robe.

He pokes Tom and very vehemently points that out and asks what the fuck happened with the fruit bowls and Tom just looks at him like he is crazy because of course there are no fruit bowls, he had told Jamie it was a live model drawing class.

James is pretty sure Thomas DID NOT tell him that and, even if he did, how was he supposed to know that meant it would be a nude model class????

Worst thing is that aside from some initial awkward giggling no one else seems to really care there is a guy naked in the middle of the room aside from James.

And yes yes he knows the human body is natural and there is nothing wrong with being naked and it's for anatomy practice and the artistic view and all that but James is 1 very much not an artist and 2 still very much attracted to the very naked guy in the middle of the room.

In fact there is nothing about him that takes away from the impression he is the most beautiful guy James has ever seen or will ever see again in his life.

James decides he is going to be the slowest artist to ever exist and spend the whole class on Matthew's face and not look down in any way until it all finishes.

(Though Matthew makes it pretty hard when the teacher gives him a break and he decides to stretch his arms out over his head for a bit).

James has never been happier for the end of a class than when the teacher announces that's it for today and that they can go and thanks Matthew for helping them out because it means Matthew is finally putting the robe back on.

James puts all the things Thomas had lent him away as fast as he can and wants to drag Thomas by the arm so they get away from there as fast as possible but of course Thomas is stalling so he can talk with Alastair a little more and James wonders if aunt Sophie and uncle Gideon would be very mad if he strangled their only son.

But as he is starting to consider just dragging Thomas away for real he hears a "hullo" and when he looks to the side, Matthew himself is there smiling at him and he gets torn between short-circuiting again and worrying that Matthew is there because he saw James ogling him and is about to slap him for it so he immediately starts apologising.

Matthew doesn't get why he is apologising and there is no way James is explaining that so he says it's his first class like that and he felt awkward for staring (which is true).

Matthew chuckles and says he wouldn't be trying to be an actor if he minded people staring at him. Specially other beautiful people with artistic souls.

James wonders if he is crazy or if Matthew just called him beautiful. He tries to deflect by saying he is also sorry for the atrocious drawings he made of Matthew because he isn't an art student and is just there to give his cousin moral support.

Matthew says it can't be that bad and tries to get James to show the drawings to him but that is one mortification James has no intention to go through, thank you very much.

The teacher calls Matthew back to discuss something for the next class and Matthew tells James he is going to keep helping out for the next 2 weeks and he would love to see him there again.

James gives a non-committal answer and vows to himself he is absolutely never ever setting foot on that class again.

(But when Thomas asks him to go with him again next class, the fight he puts up is just for show.)

#giggling kicking my feet up can't stop thinking about them #heronchild #james herondale #matthew fairchild #tlh #the last hours #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #fanfiction #sort of #original #nanda writes #modern au

[reality-exodus]

The Last Hours of a Herondale

Ch.1 Better Angels

Pair: Matthew Fairchild x reader

Words: 2k

Summary: James' twin sister, just like him and Lucie has an unexplained ability, she sees visions of the past and the future occasionally when she touches an object or a person. What happens though, when she sees herself dying?

Warning: maybe blood?

I was surveying the demon battle; I didn’t ponder much as my twin brother and his Parabatai danced with the demon. I was sitting ready to intervene in case it was necessary, I had a bad feelings and unfortunately my gut was usually not mistaken.

James disappeared once again, it used to happen a lot more than that, and it would keep happening to him. The moment he was out of sight I jumped down from the rooftop I was observing. Before I landed I heard Matt’s scream, I immediately took out my whip slapping it in the air as the electricity. I didn’t know if my brother was back and I couldn’t care less about the usual catchphrase Matt would mock me with before running into a battle “Sit back and watch how it’s done”. He is my brother’s Parabatai, namely, the same as James. I was holding Matthew’s stele at the ceremony.

“Dodge” I exclaimed as I had the demon still for some moments, I took out a dagger and threw it at the demon. Matt followed my instruction without further notice.

My plan though didn’t work out for long as the demon escaped the tie of my whip letting me fall backwards.

“Y/N/N!” Matt exclaimed and turned at me, he was actually worried.

“I won’t break Matt, where did the demon go?” I asked and stood up and stepped forward as I activated the voyance rune upon my wrist.

“Lurked back into the shadows” he spoke up confidently. Matt paced further in the dark alley and the demon hissed loudly and gripped his shoulders tightly. He screamed as the demon managed to dug its nails to his shoulders, its mouth opened up in four and he hissed to his face as I leaped on its back and stabbed it with a seraph blade but before its blade could dug through its skull its head turned 180 degrees, its stinky breath straight to my face.

Moments flashed and I saw my brother be back. Deumas roared again and pressured the blade to its chest yelling the angels name, but once he threw Matt off of him and then its attention turned to me, James was already there, he swung his arm back pulling my seraph sword out as I fell on my back in the shadows.  James looked like he was losing it.

“James!” I yelled, unaware if he heard me, the demon slapped him as he seemed to disorientate. I groaned in pressure as I prevented another hit to my brother with my daggers. Suddenly the demon was swept off his feet, three chords wrapped around its legs pulling it backwards. It was Thomas standing behind us with his bolas. Thomas was tall and had a massive physique.

“I am alright” my brother assured me and I dodged to the side retrieving my weapon and returning it on my belt. I let my whip loose again and trapped its upper body as Thomas was still holding it in place. With the corner of my eye I noticed Christopher helping Matt, before I returned to the demon that soon burst out in an explosion of ichor and demon blood that showered me and everyone else but my brother.

“Matthew, Y/N-.” My brother begun and as I was wiping the slime from my cloths.

“How- Wha-?” Christopher shuttered and I raised an eyebrow.

“Do you mean how we tracked down the last demon in London?” James asked as he carefully offered me a napkin. “Or that it is also the most disgusting thing?” I was surprised on how calm and normal his voice sounded. I knew he was innerly shaking.

“Or that James managed to make us a mess and yet stay out of it.” I commented to lighten the atmosphere as I wiped the last bit of ichor from under my chin there was a small burn mark from it there. He was the only one untouched.

I saw Thomas roll his eyes in annoyance as he was covered in ichor as Matthew sputtered the seraph blade that defused. “This is an outrage” he commented tossing the weapon aside. “Do you know how much I spent on this waistcoat?” he asked with annoyance and complaint.

“Plus no one told you to go demon hunting dressed like an extra from the Importance of being Earnest” James pointed out, he handed another napkin to his parabatai as well. He was standing between us.

Thomas spoke commenting on Matt as well. Therefore I didn’t hear him. “James, your hand…” I noticed a gash across his palm, I took out my stele and touched his at hand. He removed himself from his grip looking at me for any sign of seizure but I pointed at my gloves and smiled as I drew an iratze. It was usually Matt’s work, but it was only a gash.

Us twins had our very own gift as our parents call it trying to convince us it is not a curse,  though nor me neither my brother feel it like a gift, it is an uncontrolled ability we have, that activates randomly. James changes dimensions, he comes back though, his episodes do not last this long and there is nothing we can usually do as he physically disappears. I on the other hand, see visions, usually unclear and enigmatic concerning the object or the person I came in contact with. While I see those dreams, I am falling into a sort of seizure. This happens since I am ten, my uncle Jem though, gifted me a pair of enchanted gloves to wear and I have to admit that it has been helpful.

“Thomas! Stop scrubbing at me” Christopher said, windmilling his arms. “We should go back to the Devil and get cleaned there.”

“I agree, its starting to get chilly.” I spoke and secured my stele inside my pocket. Matt looked at me and removed his fancy waist coat and placed it around my shoulders gently.

“Care to tell me how much you spent on it?” I asked in a mocking way as everyone started walking to the Devil’s Tavern.

“Its useless now either way” Matt replied as I wrapped it better around me while we were walking there. I rarely went to the Devil, it was a hide out, a safe spot for my brother and his friends. I knew it wasn’t true but I felt as I intruded… Maybe because this is how I felt when someone invaded my atelier or music room.

“I almost didn’t recognize the lot of you when you tramped in here covered in whatever you call it…” The waitress commented and I looked at her, Polly I think it was her name. There were welcome exclamations galore, the boys were really loved around here, fairly though.

“Its been ages since we have seen a demon in London” said James

“I reckon they are all too scared to show their faces…” Polly spoke.

“Scared?” James asked confused. The rest of the boys were spread across the Tavern, Christopher and Thomas went to eat and drink some water, while I saw Matt bottoming up a whole glass of a brownish liquid which was one hundred per cent alcohol. 

“Scared of what?” I wondered and her gaze fell upon me. She wrinkled her nose, a werewolf she is, she probably smelled ichor, blood and sandalwood upon me.

“And what a beauty like you is doing in such dirty shit hole.” She spoke, obviously avoiding my question.

“You have seen me before…” I commented puzzled at the reaction of the wolf. She extended her hand and gripped my chin lightly and turned my head to the side. I felt my breath be caught upon my chest, intention was good as she dragged her finger behind my ear taking a drop of ichor.

Within seconds James gripped Polly’s wrist and threw it away from me. I turned to my twin, I knew he was there but I was not there, I could see a girl, Polly, go down an alley, she was so carefree and happy until the person next to her suddenly started to change. She would scream and shout for help but the eldest werewolf didn’t seem to be phased, he simply bit her. I squeezed my eyes, I couldn’t watch and therefore there she was, young Polly, her expression twisted in pain and agony from the lycanthropy infection. I opened my eyes again and I could see, or more like sense my brother, he was calm, it was a usual thing for me. I would be alright in about five minutes. I let out a soft cry I was surveying Polly turn into a werewolf for the first time. It felt like forever until I shot up.

I looked around, I found myself into the attic of the Merry Thieves, it was a small space with one bedroom. I was laying on the bed while I still had Matthew’s coat as a blanket over me. I took my time to make myself obvious and I caught an interesting conversation about ‘Grace’

“Her name is Grace” said James, a hint of annoyance upon his voice. I could smell the gin on him as he was sitting on the bed next to me.

“Exactly, Grace” Agreed Thomas “Aunt Tatiana’s always kept them both in splendid isolation in Idris- no visitors at all- but apparently she’s decided to move back to London, so my parents are all in a dither about it” he explained and this unlocked so many memories of our childhood times in Idris where James would secretly go to meet Grace. I did not like her that much as I got along better with Barbara Lightwood, Thomas’ eldest sister.

“Grace? To London?” James asked in complete disorientation.

“Seems Tatiana wants to bring her out in society” Thomas looked puzzled at my brother’s reaction. “I suppose you’ve met her in Idris? Your house is next to the Blackthorn manor, isn’t it?” It was true, We used to meet her every Summer.

There were moments of silence as there was no one responding so it was the time to make the fact that I returned to reality known. “And where will she stay?” I asked the thing my twin wouldn’t dare and I felt his relief wash over his figure as he turned at me.

“Hello there” James smiled at me and patted my knee as I was curled in a ball under Matt’s coat.

“Are you feeling alright? You seemed to doze off at Polly’s charms” Math’s voice sounded smooth and sweet as he joked with me.

“I will live, apparently” I smiled lightly as I felt uncomfortable to speak about Polly. “Too bad for your coat, you won’t have it back today.” I added and curled in a ball under it. It had his smell.

“No worries, it was disposable after James’ smart move” Matthew replied with a charming smile and he patted my head gently.

“Awee how sweet of you” spoke up with a sigh. I felt lightheaded as I sat up, making an effort to balance my head. James held my shoulders not attempting to touch me again, afraid that there would be another episode.

“Your hand…” I noticed as it seemed that my iratze didn’t work as needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Matthew asked and his slim but muscular hand slipped out his stele. I could see his veins as he was preparing his stele.

Thomas approached me with a toast and I chuckled lightly as he offered it to me. “You something bad for Polly, didn’t you?” he asked me. Math and Jame were further but I could notice that they were listening to me.

“I did, but I am actually used to seeing bad things” I explained and certainly did not deny the fact that I was hungry too much. “This is pretty good” I smiled at my cousin as he poured some water in a glass.

“I don’t mean to be the first one to leave a party” announced I, so as to get their attention “however I shall be making my way to the institute.” I spoke up and James seemed to dislike the idea.

“Perhaps you should stay for a bit and then we can return together.” My brother remarked and looked at me. I was trying to understand was it he was fearing fathers wrath or he was extremely worried about me.

“No, I’d rather not” I smiled at him “Do not concern yourself James. I will be completely fine. I promise.” I sat up taking my time to stand up from the old wooden bed of the attic. Thomas was right next to me, I am certain he was pondering where to support me if needed without jeopardizing to have another episode.

“How exactly do you expect me to do that, when you just had an episode” he remarked as he approached me once Math was done drawing an iratze rune upon his skin

“And you had an episode of your own as well and with us not knowing what was the cause of it. At least with me you saw it coming.” I spoke with my voice raising by the note. I was so disturbed by the fact that he considered the incident with me so much more important  than his even though it was considered during battle.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed.

“James!” I yelled back almost immediately, it was a reflect that took over and I could not control. I knew that I was supposed to be the delicate girl amongst the boys that were mostly friends of my brother. Nevertheless I could not stand the unfairness of the matter. I was the girl he was the boy we were in the same danger and our troubled moments were just as random and I could not fathom the fact he was being the same phallocratic male like the ones were asking for my hand were.

I started walking to the exit of the attic and Matthew got my elbow. I tried to conserve my gaze therefore I just couldn’t help and stare at him, deadly. “I am going home on my own! I am pretty capable of doing so and I do not need anyone to protect me or my honor. In case it wasn’t noticed I saved Math twice just some hours earlier when you had one hell of a random disappearance to God knows where. Perhaps papa would be interested in a more detailed version of tonight’s success.” I stated, my angry gaze met James’ who’s blood I could feel boiling.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He growled, his teeth greeted and his jaw clenched, his outfit was still well-stood unlike mine. I looked like I was in a battle indeed, my hair tucked in a messy bun with all the braids rogue and my clothes filled with stains and scratches.

“Well, I thought you wouldn’t dare to imply that I wouldn’t make it home alone… And yet here we stand.” I spoke up and threw the coat at Matthew who caught it.

“No keep it, I will come until some point, I need some quality bourbon not this, whatever it is.” Matthew spoke and walked out.

“Whatever” I shrugged my shoulders and walked out of the attic. I knew this would calm down James, just as I knew Matthew would trust me, even though he looks like he doesn’t care at all about me or anyone for that matter…

#matthew fairchild #matthew fairchild x reader #james herondale #james herondale twin #lucie herondale #cordelia carstairs #alastair carstairs #charles fairchild #herondale daughter #fanfiction #the last hours #chain of iron #chain of gold #chain of thorns #the infernal devices #anna lightwood #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #shadowhunters #the shadowhuter chronicles #shadowhunter fanfiction #shadow world

[luciehercndale]

Happy Birthday @alastairstom !!!🎂💜

I wrote you a little something involving some of your favorite blorbos doing something together and I hope you like it 💜💜💜

“Be quiet, Matthew,” Alastair whispered. “Thomas is asleep.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “How am I supposed to be quiet when I have to stir the dough?”

“Use a quietude rune like I did,” he replied. “I can’t risk him waking up because I’m crushing nuts.”

“He won’t,” he said, and applied the soundless rune on his forearm. “He is a heavy sleeper. He told me as much.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. Thomas could sleep through thunderstorms. “How much time do we need to bake this?”

“Mother’s recipe says sixty minutes,” Matthew glanced at the clock. “Which means we need to put it in the oven in five minutes or you can’t give it to him for breakfast.”

“By the Angel,” Alastair cursed. “Why must nuts be so hard to crush?”

“Cut them into bigger pieces.”

“Thomas doesn’t like big pieces.”

“Why must you be a tough nut to crack, Carstairs?”

“Math –” he looked at the door, trying to hear any sound coming from upstairs. “Stir the dough. We are running out of time.”

“You crush the nuts.”

Alastair frowned at Matthew but didn’t say anything. They didn’t talk much while they waited for the pie to bake, in case Thomas could hear them. Matthew also dozed off on the chair by the table. Not that Alastair needed him anymore at this point, but he wouldn’t just ask him to leave yet. For some reason, he needed moral support until the pie was ready and he knew it was as he expected it to be.

“It looks good from the outside,” Matthew commented a little before seven in the morning. They had just taken the pie out of the oven. “I wonder how it tastes.”

“I am afraid I can’t offer you a slice,” Alastair quickly said. “Can I offer you something else, instead?”

“No, but thank you, Carstairs,” he grinned. “If you don’t need my help anymore, I think I should go. Wouldn’t want Tom to find me here and ruin the surprise.”

“Next time, then.”

Alastair followed him to the foyer where he took his coat from the rack and put it on. 

“I’m sure the pie is good,” Matthew said. “He will love it. He loves nuts. And he loved my mother’s pie every time he ate it.”

“Thank you for helping me on such a short notice,” Alastair said. “And at night. I was quite desperate.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “That’s what friends do, right?”

“Right,” he managed a smile. 

“Good luck,” he said. “I’ll wish happy birthday to Thomas later. Goodbye, Alastair.”

“Goodbye, Matthew.”

Alastair sighed. It was time. He went to the kitchen to retrieve the pie and climbed the stairs one at a time. He didn’t want Thomas to hear him but he also didn’t want to slip accidentally and fall and throw the pie he had spent so much time preparing on the wooden floor.

The door was open, just like they liked to leave it. This was their house and they had their privacy. They wanted to live their love out in the open here. They wanted to be free.

Thomas stirred in bed and the first thing he saw was Alastair carrying the cake. 

“You didn’t,” he muttered, his voice sleepy. “You are nuts.”

“About you? I’m quite certain I am,” Alastair offered him a loving smile and sat next to him on the bed. “Happy birthday, hamsaram.”

“Is it…?” he wondered, and he nodded. “You are completely nuts. Put the pie on the nightstand so I can properly kiss you, khoshgelam.”

Alastair did as he was told and kissed his partner vehemently. “Asheghetam,” he said once they stopped, both out of breath. 

“Asheghetam,” echoed Thomas. 

And then they ate the cake.

#tsc #tlh #thomastair #matthew fairchild #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #tweety.writes #tsc fanfiction

[4uru]

HEAR YE, HEAR YE-

@thevagabondexpress I hope you like it

Thank you to @what-ho-christopher-put-in for beta reading this monstrosity before the spell checks.

Your Lips, My Lips, Apocalypse.

Taglist: @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone @quantummeep @caterpillarinacave kindly remind me if I'm missing someone and tell me if you want to be added to the future taglist.

#tlh fanfiction #matthew fairchild #kit lightwood #Matthew x kit

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

build yourself a citadel amid the foothills of regret

surprise i actually wrote something! maybe the dragon is coming out of its thousand year sleep maybe this is just a one-off, we'll see, though this is just one fic I have planned for a series of COT codas loosely inspired by "how to rest" by the crane wives. anyways, enjoy!

content warnings: alcoholism, alcohol withdrawal, mentions of toxic relationship

Masterlist | AO3

As the dust settled around London and the way of things began to return just as they’d stopped, Alastair left the others to their tearful reunions. He wasn’t sure what to call them, not after they’d survived the end of the world together. Compatriots? Comrades? Perhaps, if he even dared to think of it, new friends? 

Sona was still in Idris, Cordelia had joined James in recanting their experiences to his parents, and Thomas had returned to his family to share in their grief. Thus, Alastair returned to the Institute. All of their careful work boarding the windows and doors would need to be removed, but that wasn’t his concern at the moment. Instead, he found a glass bottle filled with a tincture he’d created the night before while Thomas was resting, and set out to find someone else who seemed to have retired from the battlefield a bit early: Matthew Fairchild. 

He found him in the wing of the Institute that the group had claimed, back before Tatiana had arrived and turned the world upside down. Alastair knocked gently on the door. 

“What do you want?” Matthew groaned. 

Alastair took that as an invitation to enter. Looking Matthew over, he was glad he came. In all honesty, he was surprised that Matthew had held himself together so well until the battle was over. Now, he paced back and forth across the room, his skin pale and sweaty, dark circles settling beneath his eyes. 

Alastair held up the bottle. “I have something that might make you feel better. Or at least help you sleep.” 

Matthew narrowed his eyes. 

“I asked Grace to find Christopher’s notes on what he was mixing for you. I figured you must have run out fairly quickly in Edom.” 

Matthew’s hand shook as he took the bottle, but he managed to open it without much fumbling. “I- You did this, for me?” 

Alastair didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to say that it was Thomas’ idea, which was a lie, or that he only did it because of how Cordelia and Thomas cared for him, which was also not completely true. But the truth was dangerous. The truth was that he cared, but at heart he was still a child terrified of being rejected. So, he said nothing. 

Matthew took a weak sip and sat down on his bed. “I don’t understand you,” he confessed. “You bring me this, you save me from a certain, spearful death, you stand outside my apartment all night long in the middle of January-” 

“I told Thomas not to tell you that.” 

“He didn’t. Did you think I lived in a building that lacked Sighted security?” 

Alastair shrugged. “I figured you’d chosen it simply because it has the most arrogant and atrocious architectural design in all of London.” 

Matthew rolled his eyes. "It seems as though I've been allowing your poor tastes to color my judgment of you." 

"It's an easy mistake, what with all the brain damage that wretched pink siding must be causing." The conversation was reminiscent of their earlier ones back at school, but this time, neither of them meant any true malice. They were bantering . 

"Thank you," Matthew said genuinely. 

"It was nothing," Alastair deflected. "All of the ingredients were already here-" 

"I don't just mean Kit's sedative. Thanks for having my back at Westminster Abbey." 

"Anyone would have done it.” 

“But it wasn’t anyone, it was you.” Matthew hesitated before continuing, “I’m starting to see what drew you and Thomas together, he is also wretchedly awful at accepting gratitude.” 

Alastair hadn’t spent enough time with Thomas to know that about him yet, but remembering how sheepish he’d become each time he complimented him, he could easily imagine it. 

“By the Angel, you’re really in love with him, aren’t you?” 

Alastair’s shoulders tensed. “What?” 

“You’re grinning like a madman, and all I did was mention his name! You’re standing there like a lovesick puppy- Raziel, I’m going to be sick, and it’s not even from the alcohol this time.” 

He did his best to avoid Matthew’s gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I mean, Thomas is wonderful, of course, but I don’t- We’re not- It’s not-” 

“Why won’t you let yourself be happy?” 

Alastair couldn’t think about it for too long. Memories flooded his mind. Elias, telling him he was worthless, a burden, a pitiful excuse for a son. Charles, convincing him that he didn’t deserve to be treated as anything more than an afterthought. There were memories of school, too, of cruel boys mocking him and hurting him and tearing up the letters his sister sent him. Happiness was never worth the risk of someone looking to take it away. 

He didn’t have the words to explain it. “I’m trying to- I’m trying.” 

“Okay, fine. I’ll quit being a thorn in your side. You can go. I know you’re just doing this because I remind you of your father.” 

“That would make sense, wouldn’t it? But you’re wrong. You don’t remind me of Elias; you don’t even remind me of Charles, though the Angel knows your bone structure is nearly identical.” 

“If this is your way of flirting with me, you should know it’s never going to work.” 

Alastair rolled his eyes. “I’m doing this because you’re a person, and all people deserve to rest, even you.” 

“Now, where was this basic human kindness back when we were schoolboys?” 

Alastair considered explaining that he always understood the way that his words cut. He knew, but it didn’t matter, because he had just been a boy drowning in an endless ocean, and as the salt water coated his throat and began to fill his lungs, it hadn't mattered to him who he might be pulling under the waves in an attempt to break the surface for another gulp of air. It was instinct, and he was sorry, but he couldn't change the past. 

“I’m not looking for forgiveness from anyone, much less you,” Alastair said finally. “You don’t believe that you deserve rest, that you deserve peace, do you?” 

Matthew didn’t respond. 

“Well, I doubt I’m going to be the one to convince you, but I’ll try anyway. After Charles and I broke up, he sent me letter after letter, he cornered me at every social gathering, and for the most part, all I wanted was for him to leave me alone. But some deeper, more twisted part of me wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to hurt the way that I had hurt, and I know that he’s your brother, but I won’t apologize for saying it.

“And then he did. He nearly died and he was lonely and in pain and it was everything I should have wanted, but it didn’t make me feel any better. It didn’t erase any of my own suffering. It was just more pain. And I think I learned two things. First, that Charles is awful and I am never going to let him back into my life. And second, that a selfish person is just a person. And no person deserves to suffer. 

“I think that once you’ve accepted that everyone deserves peace, even your worst enemies - especially your worst enemies - it becomes easier to accept that you yourself deserve peace, too, no matter what mistakes you’ve made.” 

“That…” Matthew’s voice trailed off, searching for a quip that he could not find. “That seems wise.” 

Alastair nodded towards the bottle. “You should get some rest before your family comes looking for you. You look like something your dog chewed up and spit out on your doorstep.”

Matthew grinned sleepily, the sedative finally setting in. “There’s the Alastair I recognize.”

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this, I would love to hear your thoughts (or even just that you liked it!) I really appreciate it!

taglist: @life-through-the-eyes-of @astriefer @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @all-for-the-fanfiction @amchara @ddepressedbookworm @wagner-fell @imsoftforthomastair @queenlilith43 @stxr-thxif @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @sheisbeautyweareworldass @ikissedsmithparker @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @sapphic-in @fortheloveofthecarstairs @tessherongraystairs @thewarthatsavedmylife-blog @grace-lightwoodd @rainingpouringetc @thomastaircompassrose @kiwichaeng @yozinha-z @skirtsandsweaters @goodoldfashionednerd @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @who-beingloved-ispoor-blog @lightwoodsimp @americann-idiot @thomaslightwood @cant-think-of-anything @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone

#alastair carstairs #matthew fairchild #the last hours #tlh #fanfic #fanfiction

[melanielocke]

Always used to feel like there was something wrong with me

Sorry for the delay, but this is the Alastair&Matthew friendship fic my poll had promised. It is set sometime before the epilogue and has some spoilers for ChoT. Title is from Happy Loner by Marina. One of my favorite things about Matthew and Alastair's friendship in Chain of Thorns is that Alastair is just honest with Matthew, but in a sort of gentle way. Like, you can't have alcohol around, that's not going to work, but also, why not make it easier for yourself?

CW: discussions of mental illness and addiction

Alastair was surprised to hear the doorbell ring, he wasn’t expecting anyone. His mother was out for a walk with Zachary and he wasn’t expecting her back yet. Alastair would have joined them if it weren’t for an injury in his leg that was still healing. It might be Thomas, who had decided to take care of him after he’d gotten injured despite Alastair’s objections, but wasn’t he spending the day with Eugenia?

He limped to the door, wincing as he moved his leg just the wrong way. Demon attack, just a week ago during patrol. Demon activity in London had been normal ever since Belial’s defeat, but patrol remained and Alastair had gotten unlucky. It happened.

He opened the door to find Matthew Fairchild. He looked around to see if perhaps Thomas was hiding somewhere, but no, it was just Matthew, with Oscar beside him, on a leash.

‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ Alastair said.

‘I know,’ Matthew said cheerfully. ‘I heard from Tom that you were injured, so I figured Oscar and I would pay a visit. He’s missed you.’

‘Oscar is always welcome here,’ Alastair said, bending down to scratch the dog behind his ear.

Alastair had never been a pet person, he’d never had any growing up and didn’t think he wanted any. But now he was starting to think it might be nice to have dog. Alastair had always struggled with being liked, with most people he still half expected them to tell him he was still awful and they wanted nothing to do with him anymore. But dogs weren’t like that. Oscar seemed to like everyone, and Alastair’s early insistence to not like the dog back had only made Oscar more determined to win him over.

Now was not a good time to get a puppy, Zachary took up all their attention, but maybe in time Zachary would also like having a dog.

It had gotten warm enough to sit outside, so Alastair led Matthew into the garden. It would be nicer for Oscar there, who lay down at Alastair’s feet. Literally on top of his feet, that was, and Alastair could not imagine the dog was comfortable that way.

‘How is your injury?’ Matthew asked.

‘It’s healing,’ Alastair said. ‘Did Tom give you instructions?’

‘No. Usually, he’s the one who refuses to slow down when he’s sick or injured. He really could be a handful.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ Alastair said, remembering when Thomas had gotten injured after fighting a watcher, and how Alastair had to fight to keep him in the infirmary, resting.

Compared to that, he wasn’t so bad at taking care of himself, he told himself. He’d taken plenty of rest, stayed home when he could have gone out with Zachary.

‘I was actually wondering if you could give me some advice?’

Matthew’s posture was a bit more slumped than usual, his voice soft. He sounded vulnerable, and Alastair could guess what kind of question he meant to ask.

‘That depends on the matter you require advice on,’ Alastair said.

‘I’ve had some close calls lately,’ Matthew said. ‘I am trying to find ways to keep my mind off of… it. But sometimes it’s all I can think of. It helps that there’s no alcohol in my vicinity to drink.’

Alastair nodded, he was glad Matthew had taken his advice on that. His best chances trying to keep his father from drinking were usually when their was no alcohol in the house. Not that he’d had any control of that when he was young, his father bought what he wanted, and Alastair had never dared empty his father’s bottles out of a window. Doing that for Matthew had been satisfying.

‘I think alcohol is always going to be on your mind, to some extent,’ Alastair said. ‘Sometimes, I could talk my father out of drinking. He was nowhere near as motivated as you are, though. What you need is a plan, for when you feel like you can’t stop yourself. What that looks like for you, I don’t know.’

Alastair had done something similar, with help from Jem. They’d spoken every other week lately, focused on Alastair’s experience with his father mainly, and how it affected him still, and at some point they’d made a plan for whenever Alastair felt too overwhelmed. He still didn’t know exactly what was going on with him, why he kept reliving his past, but having such a plan made it bearable.

‘Have you ever spoken with Jem? Brother Zachariah, I mean.’

At the mention of that name, Matthew stiffened. Alastair didn’t understand why, he’d been under the impression Thomas and Matthew both viewed Jem as an uncle of sorts.

‘He’s been a great help to me,’ Alastair added. ‘I started speaking to him just after Leviathan attacked. I don’t think I could have helped you if I hadn’t. He is helping me make peace with past.’

Before speaking with Jem, he’d viewed Matthew as dangerous. He’d noticed Matthew’s alcoholism not long after arriving in London, and he’d believed Matthew another version of his father. Another threat he’d need to protect Cordelia from. It had taken time to learn that Matthew and his father were two very different people. That alcoholism was a sickness and Matthew was a vulnerable person who needed help. That Matthew had never meant to hurt Cordelia, and that he’d sent her away the moment it had mattered most, rather than let her take care of him. His father would never have done that.

‘Maybe I should give it a try,’ Matthew mused. ‘I never would have come this far if it weren’t for you. James and Christopher and Thomas are good friends, but they were also wildly optimistic. I was too. I had no idea I couldn’t stop until I tried. And then when Christopher came with his remedy for withdrawal, I figured after that I would be done. But you had a more realistic and honest outlook, because of you I knew what I’d gotten myself into and what I’d need to do to get myself out.’

Alastair nodded, he was glad for that. Thomas was wildly optimistic, he’d noticed that too. He and Thomas had spoken with Jem together, because Thomas needed to learn that he could not fix everything, and that some of the damage his father had caused might never quite heal. It was what it was, and Alastair had no choice but to accept that. There were awful days, days he had to force himself out of bed and through the motions like he was a puppet. But he was already doing so much better. He had good days, wonderful days spent with Thomas, or holding Zachary in his arms.

‘The best advice I can give you right now would be to speak with Jem,’ Alastair said. ‘I only have my experience, and it was mostly bad. What worked for my father might not work for you.’

‘Burdening other people with my problems is not what I had in mind,’ Matthew said. ‘But I’m not sure I can do it on my own.’

‘You have Oscar,’ Alastair offered. ‘But when you make a plan, I think it is good to involve your friends. They want to help.’

It was nothing at all like what Alastair had had to do for his father. Alastair had wanted nothing more than to help, at first, but he had been far too young for that burden and had taken far too much onto his shoulders. Alastair wasn’t yet sure how much he could help Matthew. He had the experience, he knew better than anyone what might help, but it also harmed him far more than it would for Thomas.

‘Perhaps,’ Matthew said. ‘Talking to Jem might be a good start. He knows about my situation anyway. I taught Oscar a new trick, do you want to see?’

@alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @astriefer @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs @boredfangirl16 @artist-in-soul @beyondlifebeyonddeath @ikissedsmithparker

#Alastair Carstairs #Matthew Fairchild #the last hours #chain of thorns #fanfiction

[imherongraystairstrash]

you’re fics are my fav and im feeling absolutely empty after chot so im BEGGING for a charlotte and matthew fic…literally anything i would read about them sitting in silence at this point im desperate

Ahh thank you so much! I'm so honored that you enjoy my fics so much <3

I'm sorry it took me a while to finish the fic, I had a bunch of random ideas and I had to figure out how to thread them together, but I'm happy to finally present this fic to you and I hope it helps mend your heart, just a tiny bit :)

**Major CHOT spoilers; Don't read this if you haven't finished Chain of thorns!!***

Open your heart

"What happens when people open their hearts? They get better."

-Haruki Murakami

...

It felt strange sleeping in his old house with his parents again, but Matthew couldn’t bring himself to sleep in his flat alone. 

No. Matthew couldn’t sleep in his flat alone. He’d realized this at Kit’s funeral when the sudden realization of Christopher’s death had finally sunk. Before, with all of the trouble Belial had stirred up, there hadn’t been time to mourn. To truly process what had happened; Matthew and James were in literal Hell, trying to find a way to save their world. To save their loved ones. 

But, on that cold winter’s day, dressed in all white, the sudden wave of pain threatened to suffocate him. Matthew realized that he would never see Christopher again. Kit, who had been a friend since before Matthew could remember. Matthew didn’t know how to live in a world where Kit wasn’t there, in constant need of supervision and protection. Memories flooded his brain, memories of Christopher collected by Matthew throughout the sixteen years they had known each other. 

Matthew felt his world crashing before him. His palms began to sweat, despite the cold, as he watched the fire rise high. Suddenly, he felt his mother’s hand find his own. She held it tightly as they both watched the pyre burn. 

“Come stay with us for a while, Matthew.” She whispered. “Just until you’ve had time to grieve, if you’d like. But I’m worried for you, and I want to be able to help you.”

Matthew thought of James and Thomas. He knew that if he stayed by himself in his flat, his friends would want to help and stay with him so that he could slowly stop drinking. But he didn’t think that was fair to them, especially since they were greatly suffering as well.

So Matthew nodded, leaning towards his mother, ever so slightly, as if she might protect him from the pain he felt in his heart. 

Since then, Matthew was slowly remembering what it was like to let himself be loved. After telling his parents his secret, he felt like an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Of course, he still felt guilt over what he’d done to his unborn sister; he didn’t think there would ever be a day in which he didn’t feel that pressing guilt on his conscience. But knowing that his parents still loved him, even after he’d told them what he’d done, made it easier to start forgiving himself. Moreover, getting through every day was significantly easier: he’d train with James and Thomas, spend time watching Henry work in his crypt, help him mother with daily tasks, even though she kept insisting that just because she was pregnant, it didn’t mean she was incapable of doing something as simple as going down the stairs. 

“Might I remind you that I fought in the Clockwork war while I was pregnant with Charles,” Charlotte said, throwing Matthew a fond look.

“And might I remind you how he turned out.” Matthew pointed out.

Charlotte scowled, “Don’t be cruel towards your brother.”

Matthew should have known that if his mother could still love Charles, despite all of his flaws, she would have loved him, even after she found out about his secret. 

Tonight, however, Matthew was not all right. He’d been laying in his bed when all of a sudden he’d begun feeling as if he were suffocating. He’d thrown open the window, breathing in the icy winter air in between gasps. He stood there until he was shivering and covered in goosebumps. Even then, he still felt destabilized. He looked around his room, dread filling his lungs. It seemed his mind wouldn’t stop replaying every horrible memory he’d ever experienced. He was drowning in the past, each image coming sharper than the last. He wanted nothing more than to drink and numb the pain. To make it fuzzy and unrecognizable so that he could tolerate it. Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw tightly as if he could shut the world out if he tried hard enough. He ground his teeth together so tightly he felt his jaw crack. 

Suddenly, he felt a soft tuft of hair on his fingers. Matthew opened his eyes to find Oscar, who had been laying in Matthew’s bed, beside him. As he looked at Matthew with his big round eyes, he managed to calm the boy down, just enough for Matthew to slowly make his way to the parlor.

Matthew sunk down on the couch, Oscar laying down by his feet. Matthew already felt calmer at the change of scenery, no matter how small that wave of calm was. He leaned over, letting his head hang as he rested his elbows on his knees. 

You don’t need to drink, he told himself. You’re all right. You do not need to drink.

Matthew clenched his fists, feeling the bite of his nails against the sensitive skin of his palm, hoping that the pain was enough to bring him back down to earth. 

Matthew clenched his fists even harder, digging his nails deeper into his palms when he heard a thumping sound—Oscar tail wagging against the wooden floor—accompanied by light footsteps sounding from the hall. Matthew looked up to find Charlotte standing by the doorway, a hand resting lightly on her lower abdomen, her face worried. 

“Matthew,” She said, making her way towards him. “Are you all right?”

He heard her gasp as she put her hands over his arms. “Matthew, Matthew darling, stop.” He could hear the desperation in her voice as she begged him to stop, to unclench his fists. Matthew looked down and saw that his hands were full of blood. Slowly, he opened his fists, looking at the blood caked under his nails and at the deep grooves they left behind on his palms.

He was vaguely aware of his mother taking his head on her arms, holding him tightly as she whispered words of endearment in his ear. He knew she was crying from the slight tremors in her voice and the occasional soft droplets weight that fell on his hair, which he knew were teardrops. Charlotte pulled away slightly, holding his face in both of her hands. It was strange to see his mother with tears in her eyes; she hated crying in front of others. 

“Darling, why would you do that?” She asked, her voice cracking.

Matthew shrugged, even though his eyes were full of tears. He tried to turn his face away from her so that she wouldn’t see him crying, but Charlotte only sat beside him and put a hand on his back, knowing perfectly well that something was bothering him.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

A single tear slipped away from Matthew, which was a catalyst of sorts for an entire waterfall of tears to flow. Charlotte put her soothing arms around him and he clung to them as if he were a child again, his tears came in large waves that pulled at his heart. He didn’t want to get his blood on his mother’s nightgown, so he kept his hands in front of him, his wrists on his knees. 

“It’s difficult, Mama,” he said finally, “It’s so incredibly difficult to stop. All these years I’d been running away from my pain by drinking and now I have to confront them and it’s harder than I could have possibly imagined. But I know I owe it to Christopher, to Jamie and Thomas, to you and Papa to stop and—”

Charlotte pulled away, grabbing hold of Matthew’s head in between both of her hands. “Matthew, you owe it to nobody but yourself. You deserve to be loved. You can do things because you want to be healthy, not because you want to please others.” She kissed his forehead. “I wish you thought yourself deserving of happiness.”

Matthew bit his lip. “Kit also deserved happiness. And instead, he’s gone.” Matthew wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s not fair, Mama,” He said in between tears, “He didn’t deserve to die. He had so much to live for.”

“I know, darling,” She said, rubbing circles into his back, “Nobody should die so young. And no mother should have to bury her child. But if there’s one thing I will never forget about Christopher is that he was always happy.” Charlotte said to a watery smile, “It was infectious really. He reminded me a lot of your father.”

Matthew nodded, putting his head on her shoulder. 

“Christopher lived a full life, Matthew. He did everything he had set out to do and, unfortunately for us, the Angel decided that that was enough, that his life’s purpose was fulfilled and that now he could rest both his mind and spirit.” 

Matthew huffed a laugh, “Kit is incapable of resting his mind.”

Charlotte smiled, “His form of resting is by learning. And he’s slowly discovering the secrets of the universe, I’m sure. We can only learn so much on Earth. Imagine all that he must be learning in the afterlife.”

Matthew managed a wobbly smile. “He’s probably jumping out of his skin at some rainbow fungi he found somewhere.”

Charlotte laughed. “And in between each of his discoveries, he’s probably watching over us.”

Matthew turned to look at his mother, and smiled at her. Charlotte’s eyes softened and she pressed a long, soft kiss on his forehead. 

“Stay here, darling,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

…

Charlotte rushed to get a water basin, a clean rag and a stele. She relaxed when she saw that Matthew was still in the parlor, smiling softly at a sleeping Oscar. She quickly set everything down and wet the rag. She sat down beside Matthew once more and motioned for him to give her one of his hands. 

As delicately as she could, Charlotte began cleaning away the dried blood caked on his hands. Matthew winced as she dabbed as lightly as possible over his wounds from where the blood had come from. 

Once she finished with his left hand, she rinsed the rag in the basin before starting on the other.

Matthew watched her placidly as she cleaned, his expression blank. 

“All done,” Charlotte said, setting the rag in the basin and reaching for her stele. She drew up Matthew’s sleeve, trying not to despair over how thin he’d gone these past few weeks due to his alcohol withdrawal.

She was about to draw an iratze rune when she suddenly froze. Across Matthew’s arm there were thousands of tiny scars, many of them overlapping. She glanced up at her son in surprise. Matthew, confused, looked down at his arm, catching sight of what caused Charlotte’s reaction. 

“Oh,” he said, as Charlotte ran the tips of her fingers over the new scars that trailed up Matthew’s arms. “Those are new.”

“When did this happen?” She asked, her voice coming out soft. The unasked question hung in the air between them: did you do this to yourself?

Matthew shook his head, even though Charlotte didn’t ask a yes of no question. 

“I got them in Edom,” he said. “James was trying to heal me.”

Charlotte put a hand on his cheek. “From what?” 

Matthew told her, each word piercing Charlotte’s heart like a million little needles.

Matthew seemed to notice this. “You don’t have to worry, Mama,” He said, “I’m getting better.” 

Charlotte looked down and drew two quick but careful iratzes on his forearm. “I know, darling. But I’ll always worry, for I love you.” She finished off the iratzes and kissed Matthew’s cheek. “And because that is simple what mothers do.” 

She stood and straightened her nightgown. “Now then, I think it’s high time we go to bed.” She held her hand out to Matthew and smiled at him when he took it.

...

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#matthew fairchild #charlotte fairchild #chot spoilers #chain of thorns spoilers #ana fics #henry fairchild #chain of thorns #tsc #tlh #the last hours #the infernal devices #tsc fanfics #tsc fanfiction

[zickmonkey]

Fairchild Family Fic

Mild Chain of Thorns spoilers, Matthew tells his parents his secret. 2,270 words. Also soon to be cross posted on Ao3.

"Jamie?" Matthew had knocked on the office door Cordelia had led him to, before opening it completely, not waiting for his parabatai to call back. Surprising himself when he opened the door without trouble from his shaking hands.

"Math?" James was already looking towards the doorway, towards him, his eyebrows drawn in just enough his face began to crease, his golden eyes direct on Matthew.

"My- my parents leave for Idris, tomorrow. It's their last night in London-"

James cocked his head, "Are you thinking of going back with them?"

"No." He shook his head. "Oscar and I are staying. I was going to tell them, tonight, about-about what- I was going to tell them, before they left. I was- I was hoping you'd come with me."

His friend's head was at enough of an angle that his dark hair was free, tumbling off his forehead in groups, looking messy and carefree. But his face didn't match, the look of worry didn't leave it while he nodded.

"Of course, Matthew. Of course I'll come with you." James stood up, putting aside any concern he visibly felt for his friend and smiled. A gesture Matthew appreciated, when his friends smile had come to be such a comfort over the years, a common similarity.

• • •

James had held Matthew's hand the entire carriage ride to his parents house, keeping it still in between both of their laps.

"I don't know what I'll do," Matthew murmured, "if they don't forgive me." They were stopped outside of his parents house, should've been going in it. But he wasn't ready to move, just yet.

"They will, Math. There's not a doubt in my mind that they will." His parabatai had gently let go of his hand, signaling that it was time to go, but he leveled a clear look at him first that said he wasn't done with what he was saying. "But Matthew, will you forgive yourself with them?"

"I'll try."

"That's the most I could ask for."

James stepped out of the carriage without waiting, giving Matthew no opportunity to change his mind. Not when it would mean leaving his poor bestfriend stranded.

His hands were shaking as he followed James, standing beside him, both of them facing the Fairchild home. His hand no longer held his parabatai's, instead they only held each other in a half hearted attempt to keep them still that failed miserably.

"What if they don't let me in?" Matthew looked at his friend with what felt like the fakest smile he'd ever put on, trying pretend it was a dumb joke and not something he really was scared of. He couldn't bare the thought of walking up to the doors only to be locked out, worse if he'd have to knock and they'd refuse his entrance.

"It's your home, Matthew. And they're your parents. Their door will always be open to you."

"They might not consider it my home anymore. . . I've rarely visited since I moved out. Recently I haven't at all, aside from after Edom. After Belial, and London. . . I'd let my mother lead me home, I slept in my old bed, but I'd left early in the morning. Before they'd woken." He could only imagine how it must of hurt his mother to find him gone like that, without even saying goodbye. It made him want to go inside even less.

"Your mother will let you back in now, too. She will lead you to the same bed, if you need it, she will love you just as much Math."

He shook his head, hanging it just enough he could see the shined black leather of his shoes, before he separated his hands and reached one out to ask for James's.

"I don't suppose if they cast me out yours would take me in? They accepted a ghost, why not someone who attempted matricide?" This he had completely meant as a jest, but Jamie did not laugh, even for his benefit.

"They won't cast you out, Matthew. You're their son."

He allowed himself one more breath before he lead James up the steps, and despite having a key, knocked.

He could not have bared to try the key to find out the locks had been changed, so he did not try.

It took too long for someone to answer.

Long enough that he began to believe they'd spied him through a window and had refused him entry, that he should just turn and leave.

He'd just begun to tug on James's hand to do so, when the door opened.

Matthew stared at his mother, and his mother stared back.

"Matthew," It was less greeting, and more of a numb surprise she hadn't meant to voice. "James. Hello." She hadn't stopped looking at her son.

"Is Charles home?" He asked.

His mother had always been small, both height and stature, but she'd always had a way about her that made her feel so much bigger. You forgot, when she was in a room, that she was so slight, so small, she was always in charge. If not in charge, confident to the point you'd know to turn to her if anything went even slightly off plan.

He hadn't felt as though he towered over her until now, and it was less that he felt tall, but more that he felt she was small and delicate and he was massive. He was taking up all the space- he felt as though he couldn't breathe, he had to be taking up all the air as well- and leaving none for her, for his mama.

She looked briefly disappointed, before she shook her head.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course you can. Is that why you knocked? Did you think-"

"I forgot my key," Matthew lied smoothly, and silently yelled at himself. He was here to be honest, and he started it by lying.

Charlotte stepped from the door frame, Matthew stepping in, finally letting go of James's hand.

"Where's papa? Downstairs?"

"No," His mother was still watching him, and only him. "He's in the sitting room."

"Good." He'd replied. "I need to talk to the both of you."

His mother nodded, only now looking away, starting her walk towards the sitting room Matthew was equally familiar with.

He was used to the soft neutrals of the furniture, the way it was both refined and regal, a part of him missed it. He missed his home.

And he missed his father, who sat in his chair, busy with something in his hands before he'd looked up and smiled at his wife. Then, noticing them, at his soon and his son's friend.

He barely let his mother sit down before he started talking.

"When I was in the academy there was a rumor about me. I didn't- or about our family. I- I didn't believe it, at first, but then I couldn't stop thinking about it." He hadn't even gotten to the real hard part yet, and still he could not look at either of his parents. "It was that I was a bastard. That Henry couldn't possibly be my papa. That it was Gideon Lightwood, instead."

"That's what you needed to discuss with us? Matthew. . . of course Henry's your father. Gideon is a friend-"

"No. I- that's not it. I know now that you're my papa," He looked directly at his father, the man he had once been so close to. He looked unconsciously to make sure his father was perfectly intact, still so used to taking care of him, and despite the distance felt himself relieved when he saw no new burns or cuts on his skin, his browning red hair wasn't even tinged. "And you are the best papa I could ever have. I am glad that it is you.

"I am not accusing either of you of mistakes, I am telling you of my own. I am asking for forgiveness."

He took a moment- he wanted to keep going, instead of leaving them wondering any longer.

He didn't know how to continue when all he could hear was his heart beat, all he could feel was the cardiac muscle slamming against his ribs and his lungs refusing to inflate.

James put his hand back on Matthew's, and he could breathe again.

"When I was a boy, I believed it. I did the unforgivable. I went to a shadow market, I was young and stupid and I was tricked. I'd thought I'd bought a truth potion. I never should've doubted for a moment who my father was, I never should've played with the faeries.

"I made the scones you always liked, mama. And I added some of it. I was going to hear the truth, I'd decided. But it was all a lie. I was a fool.

"I'd nearly killed you."

He took a moment before he said what was left, his head hanging low.

"And I did kill the baby. My sister.

"I'm sorry. I am so so so sorry." He felt like all of him was shaking, he probably was. His stomach was in his throat, almost literally. It was taking all of him not to vomit on the floor. He was trying to avoid crying, and wasn't entirely sure he was succeeding.

James's hand tightened on his own when neither of his parents spoke.

Matthew had known James was wrong. He had known that what he'd done was unforgivable. He'd let Cordelia convince him it wasn't. He'd let James.

"Matthew," he heard his mother, but he didn't look at her. "You've kept that to yourself this whole time?"

He didn't hear anger in her voice, though he was sure that's why she was asking. Because he'd known what he'd done and he'd let them love him.

"I know." He murmured. "I should've told you. I should've told you so you stopped loving me. I'm sorry, that I let you continue to after everything. I tried to get away, so that you'd stop-"

"No, Matthew." He was surprised, this time, when it was his father, sounding surprisingly clear. And there. "You should've told us so we could help you."

He hadn't meant to, but he looked up. He was shocked by how gentle his father sounded. The way he heard no anger from either of them.

He didn't see it, either. His mother's hand was tightly in her husband's. Both of their brown eyes were darkened just slightly by the shadows of their drawn in brows while they watched him.

"Help me?"

"Yes, Matthew. We could've helped you let go of this burden, earlier."

"I wouldn't have deserved that." He knew it was what he was asking for now, that he shouldn't he arguing against it.

"You did. You do. Matthew, you made a mistake. It would be a different story, if you had meant the harm you caused. But we know you hadn't meant it, we know you, Matthew. We know you never would've done it intentionally."

"And Matthew," he looked from his father, to his mother as she took over the conversation. "We lost you too. We lost our baby, but losing you was harder.

"We just want you back."

He looked between both of them, back and forth, even once looking towards James. "You forgive me?"

"We do." His mother nodded.

Matthew had stopped trying to keep his tears away, now. They poured down his face while he stayed on the opposite side of the room as his parents.

He felt small again. Young. He wanted his mother to hold him, he wanted her to stay in London instead of return to Idris. He remembered when he'd held her skirts so tightly as a small boy begging her not to leave and he had the urge to do it now.

"I've stopped drinking." He said instead. Instead of asking that they hold him or stay longer. He was grown now, and while he wasn't a fan of his brother, he was sure Charles had never fallen at their feet and begged them to love him.

"You have?" He heard a tone of happiness in his mother's voice.

"I have. I stopped- I stopped after Paris. I- I've been sober for- for a couple weeks. I'm trying."

"That's wonderful, Matthew!" His mother stood up from where she was sitting, gently separating her hand from Henry's, and walked towards him.

She wrapped her arms around him so tightly he let out a loud breath by accident, before he buried his head in her shoulder, and sobbed harder. He held her back just as tightly. Not letting her go for too long.

When finally he let her go she stepped just slightly back, before returning to her chair, and her husband.

"We have good news, too." Matthew watched him place her hand back with her husband's. "We're expecting another baby."

"You are?"

"We are. And we are very happy that you'll get your chance at being a big brother."

#jamie shut the fuck up #just vibing #personal blog #books #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #charlotte fairchild #henry fairchild #chain of thorns #fan fiction #fan fic #chain of thorns spoilers #chain of thorns fanfiction #matthew fairchild #james herondale #matthew gets forgivness #cot #cot spoilers #the infernal devices

[heronchild-haven]

Avoiding everyone, but not you in particular

“Are you just avoiding the general population or someone in particular?” the boy asked, and let himself drop down in the chair opposite James unprompted, stretching out his slender legs. “Maybe I’m avoiding you,” James said dryly, “you seem to be suspiciously observant of my behaviour.” The boy chuckled. It was a caressing, pleasant sound, one that undoubtedly had girls’ hearts melting on a regular basis. “I would hope not. But I’m sure I could convince you to reconsider that endeavour.”

James is trying his best - and failing - to be a sociable human being in his first semester at university. Matthew is really curious about the mysterious new kid. And even though James isn't inclined to talk to him at all, Matthew is convinced enough of his own charm to at least give it a try.

-> my contribution to the April prompt "University AU" for @yearoftheotpevent

-> read here

#heronchild #james herondale #matthew fairchild #my writing #university au #fanfiction #year of the otp 2023 #modern au #fanfic

[tyblackthornsheadphones]

should i make an account just to reblog fics? it’s so annoying to see the like to reblog ratio on posts these days, especially when fic writers work so hard

#rin’s rambles #stranger things fanfiction #x reader #the shadowhunters chronicles fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #marvel x reader #soc x reader #six of crows x reader #x you #x y/n #marvel x you #daredevil x reader #moonknight x reader #matthew fairchild x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #kaz brekker x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #inej ghafa x reader #jesper fahey x reader #matthew murdock x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #stranger things headcanons

[vwritesaus]

Thomas drops a handful of broken timber planks onto the ground with a sigh. Sweat pools at the back of his neck and at his hairline, ice cold against his skin. The sun has decided not to make itself present today, hiding behind dour, blackened clouds that promise a frigid, windy afternoon. Not that it bothers him in the slightest. Thomas prefers to be out at the Institute, sorting through debris in a cracked, stained courtyard in poor weather than sitting around doing nothing at all.       After all, sitting around doing nothing at all gives way to dangerous thoughts barging into his head, ones he doesn’t want to think about lest they crush his soul more than it already has been.       No, it is better to be productive. Better to be busy. Better to be surrounded by people he knows and loves than to be at home alone.       His family is out for the day, Eugenia in search of a new set of embroidery needles, and Alastair—the one whom Thomas wants to see more than anyone else when his mind is like this—is babysitting Zachary in Kensington. As per the letter he’d gotten yesterday, Thomas has been invited to see them later on in the day, but the gap between the morning and the afternoon is a long time, indeed. So when James and Matthew’s fire message came to him that morning requesting (namely, begging) his assistance with cleaning up, Thomas rushed out of his home in Golders Green without a backward glance.       At the present moment, both Matthew and James are kicking at loose rock and dry leaves in the distance. The trees bordering the London streets and the Institute seem to have dumped all their broken branches into the courtyard, creating a crooked, spiny cemetery circled by dust and dirt and withered foliage. Shattered roof tiles, odd riff-raff from horse-drawn carriages, ripped shop awnings and jagged pieces from window panes, and general rubble and dirt make up the rest of the unfortunate picture. But Thomas finds himself really not caring about the mammoth clean-up task left to the Shadowhunters of the London Enclave.       It’s easier not to care, he’s found. It helps with this evidently everlasting numbness.       He turns his attention to the handful of broken planks he’s dumped onto the ground and forces himself to count each individual ringed spot and dark-stained grain.       Focus. He must focus—

continue reading on ao3

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prev

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SO.

hi

i know it's been AGES since i posted the first chapter of this fic (and, indeed, any fic....) and all i can i say is that the work/life balance this year hasn't been kind to me in the slightest :')

but!!! we're finally here, and the other chapters are getting there... slowly lol

i hope you all had a lovely holiday break and are looking forward to the new year (i know i am, good grief). hope you enjoy this chapter !!

~

tag list: @drunkonimagination @astriefer @ferrari-go-vroom-vroom @alastairstom @what-ho-christopher-put-in @thomastaircompassrose @faithfromanewperspective (thought you might be interested, but no pressure!!) let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

#the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #the last hours #tlh #chain of thorns #chot #cot #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #james herondale #matthew fairchild #zachary carstairs #christopher lightwood #the last hours fanfiction #tlh fanfiction #the last hours fanfic #tlh fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #grief/mourning #hurt/comfort #dear christopher #okay for once i'm pretty proud of this?? #there are some parts i really enjoyed writing #let's see if you can guess which ones haha #(hint: it's to do with thomas and alastair) #omg who saw that coming!? /j #also i know a lot of people see thomas as being a cancer/having a birthday during the summer months #but idk the maths i pulled out of my arse (given what little info we get in canon) has resulted in a january birthday #specifically the 15th

[heronchildlove]

There is not only one but TWO new fics in the James/Matthew AO3 tag??? Is this an early Christmas gift to me? 😍

Anyway, everyone drop what you are doing and go read The unforeseen consequences of late night phone calls and Murder in the London Institute right now because they are amaaaziiing

#murder in the london institute is an ensemble fic and the james/Matthew tag is followed by a 'sorta it's complicated' so I already love it #lmao #heronchild #matthew fairchild #james herondale #fanfiction #fic rec #tsc #the last hours #tlh #the shadowhunter chronicles

[reality-exodus]

FANCAST: The Last Hours Fic

Last Hours of a Herondale

#fancast #fanfiction readers #shadowhunters oc #shadowhunters fanfiction #shadowhunters fandom #the last hours fancast #the last hours fanfic #chain of gold #chain of gold fancast #james herondale twin #james herondale #James herondale fancast #James Herondale aesthetic #matthew fairchild x reader #matthew fairchild #mattheew fairchild aesthetic

[luciehercndale]

Ooh okay CONGRATS ON THE MILESTONE GIRL you deserve it! If you're still taking requests, might I ask for a Matthew + Alastair friendship fic of some kind? ❤️

Thanks 💜 I really tried to make it cool and funny and there is also Thomastair at the end. I hope you like it ✨

Read on A03

Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

Alastair knew he shouldn’t have asked for Matthew’s help, but he was desperate. As the second anniversary with his beloved Thomas was close, he was out of ideas, something he did not like nor wished on his worst enemy or least favorable acquaintance. Not even on Matthew, decidedly, who he had never once thought as a foe but not as a friend either. 

He checked his pocket watch. The clock had just struck seven in the morning, and he was by the gate of the house he and Thomas had been sharing for five months. He knew that he was the one who was early, and not the other one who was late. 

The evening before they both were at an event at the Townsends, only because their parents had forced them to attend. Matthew’s mother, the Consul, rendered it imperative to go, and so did Gideon Lightwood, who was not blood related to Alastair in any way, yet had been a more fatherly figure to him in the last two years than his father had ever been. Alastair’s heart warmed at the thought, and although he and Thomas hated the Townsends and found them annoying, he convinced him to go for their father’s sake. 

Catherine, whom Alastair concluded was indeed on the list of those he would call boring, spineless and least favorable to become one of his friends, was getting into shadowhunters politics. Charlotte Fairchild was to be her mentor, something she did not enjoy and of which Alastair knew because of his dinners at the Lightwoods. He swore he had never seen Matthew’s mother sigh and shake her head so much during dinner, but he knew her hands were tied. 

After Bridgestock was kicked out as Inquisitor of the London Enclave, all the members decided that it was mandatory to mentor the new shadowhunters who wanted to get into their politics. To train them for their role so they would not resort into threatening other members of their society in order to get what they wanted. Charlotte herself proposed it, and Alastair thought it was a good idea. He knew that the woman was disheartened that her older son Bridgestock treated him as a bargain chip, and she didn’t want that to happen again to someone else with good intentions. As much as Alastair despised Charles Fairchild, he could understand his mother’s worries. 

The other members of the Enclave, including himself and Thomas, voted in favor of this measure, which ended up being approved. Charlotte, Gideon, Will and Tessa, all offered their help as mentors along with some of the other representatives. 

There were two people along with Charles – who wanted to try to get into shadowhunter politics again, much to everyone’s dismay – who wanted to train for shadowhunter roles in London. One of them was the aforementioned boring Catherine Townsend, while the other was a person he had learned to know well during the last few years, Thomas’ cousin Jesse Blackthorn. Catherine expressed her desire to become Consul a few months prior, along with Charles. Meanwhile, Jesse, much to no one’s surprise, wanted to train to become the next head of the London Institute. 

Charlotte chose not to mentor her son because it would have looked like nepotism – wasn’t it, though?. She would’ve gladly trained Jesse along with Gideon, but in hindsight, it was more fitting for him to be mentored by Will and Tessa, with whom he already worked everyday. In the end, it was Gideon who got Charles. Thomas patted his father’s shoulder once he knew, and offered him a genuine smile of understanding. Alastair wasn’t sure which of them had it worse, but probably both. 

This party was to celebrate Catherine’s first six months of training, and of course, they needed to attend to show that the Consul’s family and acquaintances were supporting. Alastair would have rather stayed home with Thomas, but he had a mission to accomplish, and he knew only Matthew could help him. 

He wished to talk to Fairchild directly at the event. It wasn’t like they never talked during events, but it was suspicious. He tried to intercept him when he went to the bathroom at some point, but believed it would be too awkward and stayed rooted to his place, hearing his sister Cordelia drone on the last addition to her and her husband’s house in Curzon Street. He rolled his eyes at that. Who cared about a statue made by a mundane artist when his mind was blank? He needed to find Matthew as soon as possible.

He had no way of tracking him – that would’ve been too much – if not through fire messages. And that also posed to be quite a difficult task. Thomas, who had been incredibly bored by the event, said that he wanted to do something exciting. Thus, even though it wasn’t their night duty to go on patrol, he agreed to go out with him until he had enough. Well, until Thomas, who had been yawning for the whole night, had finally given up on staying outside. If it were for him, he would’ve been in bed two hours prior, and he would’ve asked for Fairchild’s help way earlier. He waited for Thomas to doze off peacefully and sent the message. 

Fairchild. I know you must be surprised by this message, and by the hour on which it finds you, you must think I am either drunk or crazy – or both. Fret not with your speculations, as I will cut to the reason why I willed myself with the task of writing to you this late, and this unexpectedly. I found myself consumed by despair. And by shame. But I know that you are the only one who can help me. It’s been two years since I and Thomas started our relationship. The date is upcoming – in three days – but I still can’t find the perfect gift. I wanted to surprise him with something he may like, and I thought that you – nevermind. Perhaps this is uncharacteristically strange coming from me, but you do understand that desperate times call for desperate measures (and desperate requests for help). Feel free to ignore.

Alastair found himself sighing numerous times as he mulled over the words of the message, but he still sent it. To his shock, the Fairchild boy had replied to him.

Carstairs. You’re right, I’m appalled. It was the last thing I expected to happen on this day. Catherine Townsend sucking  up to my mother at the dinner didn’t faze me one bit, I know the woman is vile and I – I’m sorry, I was just rambling. I just thought of the perfect place where you can go with Thomas. We can go there by car tomorrow morning, but we need to meet up early. I can’t come before 7am, as I need my beauty sleep. You woke me up, but I’m willing to forgive you just because I care for Thomas’ happiness and I think he will be enthusiastically taken aback by where I thought you could take him.

Alastair confirmed that the time was perfect and he would wait outside his house in Cornwall Gardens. All the while he was hiding in the bathroom, because fire messages made too much noise and he didn’t want Thomas to wake. He wondered about the place he wanted to take him but decided he wanted to be surprised. Matthew didn't reply anymore, and he hoped that they had an agreement. Yet, it was half past seven and he couldn't see a hint of the blonde bohemian, and he started thinking that he had stood him up.

Alastair didn’t even know why he was annoyed by Matthew’s tardiness. Was he late? He just said not before seven, he didn't – He saw the Ford Model A approach and he massaged his temples. Calm down, Alastair. Do not lose your cool, he repeated to himself. 

“About time,” Alastair said gruffly, but at least he uncrossed his arms off his chest. 

“Good morning to you too, Alastair,” Matthew cheered from behind the wheel. “Bad night?”

Alastair rolled his eyes. In another time, he would have told him to mind his business. But he wasn’t the same person as he was years ago, nor was Matthew. “I could not sleep,” he sighed, remembering all the tossing and turning about last night. 

Matthew, who Alastair wasn't surprised to see wore a golden waistcoat and jacket that matched the details of his car, simply shrugged. “Yesterday's event at the Townsends upset your stomach too?”

He felt like rolling his eyes again. “If Catherine ever becomes Consul, I hope I'm not in London anymore,” he scoffed. 

“The feeling is mu –” Fairchild stopped abruptly and looked up, and Alastair dreaded that Matthew had seen Thomas through one of the lowest windows of the house. 

He turned quickly, relieved that was not the case, and realized what distracted the other from finishing his sentence. “Something is meowing at your feet,” he commented sourly with a frown. Knowing Matthew, it could have been some new customization of his Ford.

“Yes, I haven't forgotten about you, kitties,” Matthew said instead, and he lowered to pick up a box from the floor of his car. “There, there, here we are,” he cooed. He got out of the vehicle and started walking toward the door of Alastair's house.

“What are you doing?” Alastair frowned, glancing at the kitties before Matthew could advance closer and ring the doorbell. There were two of them: one was a tortoiseshell, while the other was a brown tabby. They were probably strays and not older than a few days. 

“We are going to the countryside, Alastair. As much as they would keep us company and stop us from tearing each other's hair with their fluffy cuteness, I think they should stay home.”

“In case you forgot, this is my home.”

“And it can be a temporary home for the kitties,” he said excitedly, offering Alastair his megawatt smile, even though he knew it wouldn’t help matters. “In case you forgot, I do have a massive and lovely dog in my home.”

“Since he is lovely, surely, he must love cats,” he asserted.

“Absolutely, he does. But you understand that I can't leave Oscar alone with them,” Matthew tried to plead his case. He looked down at the kittens mournfully, and they meowed at him. “They’re tiny little things and they’re defenseless. They’re the equivalent of a newborn baby,” he argued. “Would you leave a newborn baby alone?”

“That’s beside the point,” Alastair objected, but the meowing of the kittens alone was tugging at his heartstrings and he didn’t want to admit it to Fairchild. “There would still be no one to attend to the kitties.”

Matthew shook his head as he stroked one of the kitties’ heads. “They wouldn't be alone. Thomas is inside, I assume.”

“Where do you think –” Alastair closed his eyes for a moment out of exasperation. “We're losing precious time. Moreover, in case you forgot, Thomas must not know of my encounter with you.”

“You're wasting time by dragging the issue out! Just leave the box in a room and close the door. I'll get them when we get back and I'll see if I can find them a house.”

“What if Thomas finds them?” Alastair wondered. “You do know that this house is his as much as it’s mine –”

“You think too much, Alastair,” he raised his eyebrows disapprovingly. “Just leave them in a room that Thomas doesn’t like, then. That’s it, I resolved the problem for you.”

Alastair wanted to argue with Matthew, but he was right. Again. He was dragging the discussion out and he was concerned that Thomas would wake up soon and he would look for him, even though he left him a note apologizing. He needed to do this quickly. He took the box away from Matthew’s hands and he made a mental note of the house. 

He realized that the room Thomas never seemed to enter was Cordelia’s old room. It made sense. Even though Cordelia moved out of the house several years prior, Alastair and Thomas thought that for the moment they wouldn’t turn it into something else. Cordelia (and James) used the room when they stayed there when one of their parties went too far into the night and they didn’t want to walk back home. Lazy, if anyone asked Alastair, but convenient for his immediate scope. He left the box on the other side of her bed, and bolted the door. He then ran out of the house as if it were on fire to meet an excited Matthew already waiting in the driver’s seat.

“You know, it would be ideal to keep conversation while we drive,” Matthew quipped a while after they left London behind. “The road is long.”

Alastair barely glanced at him, his hands gripped the side of his seat tightly. “I have nothing to say,” he retorted, trying not to sound too blunt. 

“You didn’t even ask me where we’re going,” Matthew observed, raising an eyebrow at how his traveling companion sat. “You are not going to fall, trust me.”

“What?” he wondered louder than it was appropriate. “Mind the driving, Fairchild. I don’t want to die young and above all, I’d regret perishing in the countryside.”

Matthew replied with a mirthful laugh, and Alastair glared at him this time. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to taunt you, but you make it so easy,” he shrugged. “What did the countryside ever do to you?”

Alastair managed a smile. He remembered another time, another himself. A younger self who was less carefree than he is now. A young boy who could only find solace in going horse riding in Dartmoor and hunting for blackberries. A boy who rejoiced when they moved there for a while, because the pubs and grocery shops were too far from their house, and his father too lazy to look for his poison. A place where he felt they never stayed enough because of said reason. His father’s love for the bottle overshadowed his affection for his family, and that probably quelled the peacefulness of those memories.

“I used to live in the countryside every once in a while,” he confessed to Matthew. The car wasn’t too fast, and he was trying to appreciate the landscape. It distracted him. “At Cirenworth.”

“Oh, in Devon, I see. Cordelia told me about it,” he nodded. Seeing that the other didn’t answer anymore, he continued. “You don’t sound too happy about it, though? Was this place ugly and water leaked from the pipes, your shirts would get drenched and you had to wear a bathsuit your whole stay so that at least, you’d be prepared to get soaked?”

Alastair pinched the bridge of his nose. “You always come up with the most absurd scenarios, Fairchild,” he shook his head. “I am afraid to ruin your fantasy, but no. On the other hand, Devon is an outstanding location and so is Cirenworth. It is immersed in nature and there are many paths that lead to the beach. It is quiet and no one bothers you and you have plenty of space to train in the moor. It was the best place I’ve ever lived.”

“Seems like the perfect place for relaxing,” Matthew assumed, keeping his eyes on the road. They had just passed a sign and he realized they were closer to their location than he thought. “Have you been there recently? To visit your mother and little brother?”

“I’ve been there a few weeks ago,” he confessed. “We had a picnic in the rose garden by the house with Thomas.”

He recalled the memory fondly. His mother and Risa prepared a picnic in the extensive garden at Cirenworth. Zachary had grown so much in the time he hadn’t seen him, and he dedicated most of the time to playing with him in the grass. Thomas had accompanied him, of course. His younger brother grew attached to his partner, and he demanded to sit him on his shoulder because he was the tallest. 

Alastair had a mini heart attack every time Thomas helped little Zachary on his shoulders. He was protective (even though he knew Thomas would never let him fall) but he was also quite mushy. This was a feeling that he had discovered in these years of being in love with Thomas and being loved back by him. 

“I would love to see that place someday,” Matthew smiled, and even if he was looking ahead of him, Alastair knew that he meant it. In all fairness, he even wondered why his sister had never invited him over. 

“What about you, though?” Alastair found himself wondering. “Is there a place like Cirenworth in your life?”

“I had one, when I was a child,” the blond replied uncharacteristically quietly, not meeting his eyes again. Well, he better watch the road. It was barely visible in between the corn crops on either side of them. Alastair hadn’t dared to ask where they were going and now he regretted it. “Fairchild Manor, in Idris. We used to go there on vacation during the summer. I remember thinking that my parents decided to paint the building in a mellow gold hue to honor my birth, but of course, I was deluding myself,” he laughed bitterly. “Aside from this little childhood embarrassment, I felt like we were truly a family when we were there. An ordinary family. My mother would ignore the shadowhunter business as long as we stayed there, and we would play different games in front of a glass of freshly made tea. My father would ditch the experiments and I would push his chair so we could go on long walks together. I even played with that menace that is Charles –” he rolled his eyes, as if he was incredulous. “Those were good times.”

Alastair listened to Matthew’s story carefully, and he was surprised at how similar their happy place seemed to be. The only striking difference, he was sure, were their fathers. He admired Henry Fairchild. He was often criticized for being a man of science, but it was just shadowhunter society closing itself to modernity again, which wasn’t good. If it hadn’t been for him, they wouldn’t have had things like portals. His father, on the other hand… there was nothing to admire, he concluded. He was better off dead. 

The conversation veered on other topics like the weather and how nice it seemed to be. Matthew asked what Alastair thought of the recent shadowhunter happenings in London and they discussed that for a while. Their earlier conversation broke the ice, despite the day being far from chilly. 

As he descended out of Matthew’s car when they arrived, Alastair found himself sweating in spite of the hat he was wearing and a gentle breeze blowing in their direction. Must be the countryside and its air, he thought. Yet, it was the autumn season, and he realized that he was getting antsy and anxious because he was about to find out what his partner’s close friend had thought for them.

“Please do tell me why, because my curiosity is unending,” Matthew said abruptly as they walked who knew where, as there was literally nobody in the clearing facing them. “You still haven’t asked me where I brought you, Alastair.”

Alastair shrugged, trying not to clench his fists in frustration. “What if I said that I trusted your taste? Would you believe me?”

He snorted in response. “Of course I would,” Matthew smirked. “I know I have impeccable taste.”

“Whatever you say, Fairchild,” he replied sourly. 

Matthew stopped, and so did he. Alastair realized that they were almost in the center of the clearing. There were short trees on every side, and small patches of flowers. It seemed like the best place for a picnic and to have a little privacy, but would Matthew drive that far from London – he still didn’t know where they were, but considering the over two hours of travel, he decided they were a little outside of town – to take him to the perfect place to eat on the grass? He wouldn’t know how to get back there again if he did. 

The blond glanced at the clock in his pocket and turned to Alastair. “They should be here any minute,” he spoke confidently, offering him a smile. 

Alastair wanted to ask him who, when something caught his eye. It was barely midday, but there was a shadow invading the clearing. He knew it couldn’t be a demon – it was broad daylight – but his hand still went on his weapons’ belt, ready to grab his spears to attack. His hand went slack when he noticed the source of the shadow: a big hot air balloon. It wasn’t just a regular hot air balloon. It was also propelled by some kind of magic, he assumed, because of the color of the fire under the rainbow colored tarp.

“You look like you were expecting an ambush,” Matthew observed, glancing at Alastair’s astonished expression. “I know, I was also quite surprised the first time I saw one of these up close. Isn’t it fascinating?”

“What?” Alastair managed to say, his mouth gaped open. “Quite,” he added with a sigh. Damn. 

The colorful air balloon descended into the clearing and gracefully landed not far from the two of them. Three people came out of it with happy smiles, along with the warlock, who Alastair didn’t recognize. Matthew walked to the man as soon as the clients left, but he stood there. Immobile until the other took notice that he hadn’t bothered to catch up to him. He gestured for him to come there, and only then, after taking a long breath of encouragement, did Alastair follow, albeit slowly.

“Frank, let me introduce you to Alastair Carstairs,” Matthew told the purple-haired warlock. “He needs to surprise an important person and he thought that your hot air balloon ride would be the best experience that he could have.”

“Sure, welcome, shadowhunter. Anyone of Mr. Fairchild’s friends is a friend of mine,” Frank said. “I don’t usually let shadowhunters ride my balloon,” he chuckled, “but I am willing to help you since you’re a good friend of this handsome fella,” he winked at Matthew, which made Alastair frown. Maybe Matthew knew this warlock personally.

He glanced at his friend. “Well, thank you very much,” he answered with a clipped tone, trying to be cordial. “About that, can I speak to my friend Matthew for a second?”

The warlock shrugged and went towards a small cabin close to the woods that Alastair hadn’t noticed before. Once he was out of earshot, Matthew asked: “I don’t understand what’s wrong. Is it because he’s a warlock? Because –”

“No, absolutely not,” Alastair quickly said. He never had problems with downworlders, and it annoyed him that the other thought that was the issue. “I didn’t realize you were taking me here,” he sighed, “where are we?”

“That’s because you never asked,” Matthew chided, and he had to give it to him. It was the truth. “We are in Hatfield park, in Hertfordshire. Hatfield House is not far from here. It’s where Queen Elizabeth grew up.”

“Good for her,” he snorted. So they were indeed not far from London. 

“You don’t sound too excited,” Matthew said. “Is it the place? Is there too much green? Is –”

Alastair couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m afraid of the heights,” he confessed, ready to be ridiculed by Matthew. 

“Bloody hell,” he replied with a neutral expression. He seemed to be genuinely understanding. “I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Alastair frowned, gazing away. The warlock sat on a chair and was sunbathing. “If I’d only asked,” he clenched his fists. He was angry at himself. “Guess it can’t be helped now. I’ll have to think about something else before Friday.”

“Don’t be hard too on yourself, Alastair,” Matthew tried to console him, something he didn’t expect. “I can tell Frank that regrettably, you have changed your mind, and you wish to go back to London. Simple as that. Trust me, he’s not going to hold it over your head or curse you.”

“Warlocks can’t curse people,” Alastair remarked, tilting his head in the direction of the man. 

“Not the warlocks you know,” he winked with a smile, but Alastair raised his eyebrows. “Fine, fine, you’re right! Must you always be so fussy?”

Alastair shrugged, and Matthew took it as a sign that he wasn’t going to answer and started walking in the opposite direction, where Frank was probably asleep by now. He came back a couple of minutes later saying that the warlock was nonchalant about their decision not to go on with the balloon ride, and to come back if they changed their minds. 

Alastair didn’t talk all the way back to Matthew’s car. He was thinking about the hot air balloon, and how Thomas would react if he took him there. He would love it, he told himself. He would absolutely adore it and talk about it non stop for months. He reckoned Thomas mentioned balloons more than once, when they saw a photograph of one in The Star. He always meant to take him on a ride, but he wasn’t sure he could overcome his fear of the heights. 

He was still thinking about this when they got back to the car, hands clenched into fists on his lap and his eyes fixated on nowhere precisely. He was thrown back to reality after Matthew groaned, which reminded him that they still hadn’t left. He wondered how much time had he stared into space. 

“If you fixed your hair, I think I’m ready to go back to London,” Alastair muttered. 

“I have bad news and good news,” Matthew sighed, his hands crossed on the steering wheel. “Which one do you want to know first?”

“Is this a game? Because I don’t think we have time for those, Fairchild. You better start the car or we won’t even get to London in time for dinner.”

“Well, congratulations! I’m afraid that is the piece of bad news I was going to deliver, but you’re good at guessing,” he chuckled, even if there was nothing to laugh about. Alastair raised an eyebrow, and he continued. “The car won’t start.”

“Say that again,” Alastair said, aggravated. 

“The car is out of fuel. It won’t start. Look,” he turned the keys into the ignition, but no sound could be heard from the vehicle. Instead of the usual purr of the engine, there was utter silence. 

“Out of fuel? Didn’t you get some before leaving?” Alastair tried not to get too agitated.

“I didn’t think I would need more. I thought it would last,” he shook his head in frustration. “Look, I apologize. There’s nothing we can do but wait. I’ve already called for help.”

Alastair scoffed, and crossed his arms on his chest. “Well, whoever you called better come here soon. I can’t lose more time, I’m already running out of time. I shouldn’t have –” but he bit his lip and he didn’t finish. He wasn’t even angry, but he was a little anxious.

“Asked for my help?” Matthew dared to ask. “Kind of odd, I must say, but I thought someday it might have happened,” he clenched his jaw. “And not because I am a connoisseur of the best entertaining experiences Edwardian society has to offer. We both love Thomas, and we both care for him. You want to make him happy, and so do I. Shouldn’t that be the end goal?”

“It should,” he admitted. “And he is. I’m not being cordial towards you just because you’re one of Tom’s best friends,” he said, and Matthew raised an eyebrow. Alastair ignored him. “I do not harbor any animosity towards you because of the car, in case you’re wondering. I’m just angry at myself.”

“Since we’ll be spending a few hours together before help gets here…” he left the sentence hanging. “I have a fine ear that is very willing to listen, in case you need to vent,” Matthew smiled. 

Alastair thought about it for a few seconds. He had already shown Matthew his vulnerable side when he desperately asked for help the night before. He also confessed his fear of the heights, which only Thomas knew about. Telling him more wouldn’t be too confidential, would it? It wouldn’t mean they would become friends. 

“Do you ever want to,” Alastair began, “make someone happy but you know what’s standing between your happiness and them is you?” He said bitterly. “This hot air balloon idea you had, Fairchild, was thoughtful. Thomas had expressed the desire to go on one casually in conversation, but I never dared to follow because of my little fear.”

Matthew’s mouth gaped open in disbelief, but it was quickly replaced by a warm smile. “I do know that feeling very well, yes,” he gazed up at the sky, as if he was longing to fix that but could not. “To be honest with you, Thomas also expressed the desire in conversation with me as well, when I told him that I knew a warlock that had a balloon business,” he pointed out. “This is why I brought you here in the lively Hertfordshire,” he cocked his head. “And yes, I also had selfish reasons. I wanted to ride the hot air balloon myself, but alas, I also abhor heights,” he scoffed. “I was hoping you’d force me to ride, even just to see my face turn green like the countryside,” he added, and Alastair started chuckling. “You see, acrophobia is not that uncommon! Even dashing men like me have fears.”

Alastair tried to rein his giggles. It was unlike him to laugh so freely in front of people in general, if they weren’t Thomas or his family. But laughing was freeing, and it made him feel better. He should do it more. “I never thought I’d laugh about that with you, but thanks.”

“Well, there is a first time for everything,” Matthew grinned. “And thanks for what? You’ll have to find something new for Thomas.”

“You still tried to help me,” he said. “Even though it backfired. I appreciate the effort.”

The sound of wheels on the soil alerted them that whoever Matthew had called to take them back and also bring fuel for the car was closer and approaching. Alastair didn’t know how much time had passed ever since they sat waiting. Matthew kept talking about random stuff – some of it eccentric nonsense – and Alastair listened to him. There was nothing better to do, he told himself, and Fairchild’s stories were amusing. Time had to pass. 

They got off the Ford to meet their savior. Alastair thought it would be James, because he was Matthew’s parabatai, but instead –

“Thomas, my dear,” Matthew spoke before Alastair could, and walked briskly to his friend. “Why are you here? It was Jesse I sent a fire message to!”

Thomas glanced at Matthew briefly, and acknowledged Alastair. He frowned, not used to the sight of his boyfriend with one of his best friends. He seemed surprised, but his eyes didn’t betray much emotion. “I was with Jesse when he read the message and I offered to come instead. He and father had to go out together. Is there something wrong with me being here?” he asked the blond, but he knew the question was directed at him.

“What about James?” Matthew inquired, which was weird. He knew James wouldn’t be in town today, but Matthew had to know that too, since he sent the message to Jesse first. He was catching himself in his lie, but Thomas ignored that.

“James went to see that mundane sport with Cordelia – what’s the name again? Ah, polo, it was polo.” Thomas replied curtly, not breaking eye contact with Alastair. “Whereas I was free. I had to go to buy groceries with someone this morning, but when I woke up, the bed was cold and empty.” 

“Alright, alright, Thomas,” he patted his arm. “I’ll leave you two alone and get the fuel.”

Thomas waited for Matthew to go back to the carriage with which he had arrived, to start speaking. “Why were you two together?”

“He was going to the countryside,” Alastair looked away and sighed. “And I asked him to go with him. He knows a lot of places. Also, I thought I left you a note before I left.”

“You only enjoy the countryside where Cirenworth is,” Thomas replied, rolling his eyes with a grin. He wasn’t definitely angry, just puzzled. And teasing.

“Hamsar-am,” Alastair said. “You know me too well,” he snorted, managing a smile reserved only for his lover. “But I can’t tell you.”

“And I don’t want you to tell me,” he answered with a smile. “I was just messing with you. About the note, too. Which, by the way, was so sweet,” he licked his lips and stroked the side of Alstair’s neck, lingering on his shoulder blade. “We still have to go grocery shopping, though.”

“I would never forget about grocery shopping,” he fixed his gaze on Thomas’ lips and then his hazel eyes, which reminded him of nuts. He loved nuts. “We can go tomorrow morning, since this day is done.”

Thomas nodded, but something caught his eye behind Alastair. “Oh, man. Is that a hot air balloon?” he exclaimed, his hazel eyes filled with excitement.

“Majestic, isn’t it?” 

“And it’s descending down there. Can we please take a look, Alastair? I want to see one up close!” He was giddy. 

Thomas got excited even for the little things like this balloon and seeing him so happy always put Alastair in a good mood. Thomas took his hand and he dragged him to the field where he and Matthew had been a few hours prior. A group of werewolves had just enjoyed their balloon ride, as Frank the warlock was just wishing them goodbye.

“Do you think we can ride it?” Thomas asked, his eyes beamed at the balloon. He didn’t wait for his reply and went to the warlock directly. “Good morning, sir. Do you offer balloon rides?”

Frank turned with a smirk, and eyed Alastair and then Thomas. “Oh, there’s a third shadowhunter. A friend of Mr. Fairchild too, I suppose? Have you changed your mind, then?”

Thomas glanced at Alastair, and he sighed. “Excuse us,” he told Frank, and pulled his puzzled boyfriend away from the warlock until they were far enough. It looked like deja vu. “I asked Matthew to help me last night,” he took a pause, “about your anniversary gift. And he took me here, to a faraway place, because he thought you would like riding a hot air balloon. And he was right,” he managed a tight smile. “You know I’m afraid of the heights,” Alastair muttered. “But he didn’t know that, and now I have to think about something new.”

“Oh, if we are coming clean now, I also asked your mother about your gift,” he scratched the back of his head and looked away, his cheeks assuming the rosy color of shyness. “She told me you love khoresht-e ghormeh sabzi and that is a dish that is usually made during festivities. But you know I can’t cook, for the love of the Angel,” he chuckled, and Alastair raised his eyebrows. One time, Thomas managed to burn a hard boiled egg, but he was getting better. 

“We aren’t perfect,” he said.

“No one is,” Thomas said softly, grabbing his hand. “That is what makes us special. Being afraid of the heights won’t make me love you any less.”

“I’m deeply sorry about that. Perhaps I should try to get past my fear and ride the damn balloon with you, but I don’t think I can.”

“I don’t think I can cook a decent meal either, so I think we are fine,” Thomas smiled. “It isn’t the end of the world. And you shouldn’t if you don’t want to.”

“Are you really sure about that?”

“Positive,” Thomas kissed his cheek. “How about we go back? There is something back home that you need to see.”

“Alright, I’ll be leaving. I left Oscar with the doorman and I need to go back to my apartment,” Matthew announced after he accompanied Thomas and Alastair to Cornwall Gardens. 

Alastair proposed they rode in the Lightwood carriage, but Thomas insisted they went in the car so Matthew wouldn’t have to ride alone. There was barely space for two in the Ford, so the ride back wasn’t comfortable. Alastair’s only joy was that thanks to the lack of space, he had to lean on Thomas, which he didn’t seem to mind. 

Alastair raised his eyebrows at Matthew, who, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten about the box he had left this morning in Cordelia’s old room. Matthew blinked, probably to make him understand he remembered, but Thomas spoke first.

“No, Math, wait,” Thomas said. “Come, and see what I found too. Perhaps you can help us, since you know so many people.”

Thomas entered the house first, followed by Alastair and Matthew. The two exchanged a quick glance – Alastair was glaring at him, Matthew just shrugged –  as Thomas led them into the living room. Alastair exhaled a much held breath but it was short lived when he heard a noise coming from the wooden table. Meowing. Meowing and a bad smell which he possibly identified as animal droppings. Alastair wanted to run, to fly, to hide, but that was also his home, and he couldn’t.

“Are those… kittens?” Matthew chanced, feigning surprise, when Thomas showed the box to them. “How adorable!”

“As you can see, they are indeed. Two strays,” Thomas took the tortoiseshell in his arms and started petting it. Alastair wanted to die. The image of Thomas with a kitty was too much to bear, but he also didn’t know how to explain why the cats were there, if he ever asked. Which, of course, he did. “I have no idea how they got here, though. I was about to leave for my parents’ house when I heard some noise coming from Cordelia’s room, and I found them.”

“How odd. I wonder how they got there. They mustn’t have possibly crawled so young, and carried the box with them,” Matthew observed, and Alastair would’ve rolled his eyes higher than the ceiling if he could. He never met someone who was able to craft such lies and make them believable in the span of a few seconds. Thomas also made a face.

“Come on, stop joking,” Alastair interjected, looking at Matthew briefly. “I brought the cats here, Tom. They are Matthew’s. But I suppose you already know that, since it would have been quite impossible for them to get in on their own.”

“I knew it,” Thomas said. “Cordelia’s room, really? You know that I never go there. If they hadn’t meowed, I couldn’t have found them.”

“That was the aim, Thomas,” Matthew replied. “I only asked Alastair to leave them here because we couldn’t have possibly taken them to Hertfordshire. I would have brought them to my apartment once we returned.”

“Who said they are going back?” Thomas inquired. “Do you stake a claim on the kitties, Math?”

“I – don’t think so,” Matthew revealed. “I can’t keep them. I don’t intend to turn my home into an animal house. Oscar is enough for me. I planned to take them to the London Institute, since they would have the space to thrive. Even though I don’t think Uncle Will loves cats that much. Maybe, if I asked Jesse, he could convince him –” Alastair cleared his throat. “Sorry, I was rambling. Anyway, no, Tom. I do not stake any claim on these little cuties. Feel free to keep them or give them up for adoption. Just find them a good family who won’t throw them away.”

“Good, because I think I’ve just found them a family,” he confessed happily, eyeying Alastair, whose heart started beating faster in his chest. “What do you say, Alastair? Do you think you can accept these two kitties into our house?”

Alastair felt his cheeks burning. He couldn’t contain his own happiness when Thomas openly talked about them as a family in front of a crowd (there was only Matthew there with them, but still). “There is enough space for two kitties here, that’s for sure,” he grinned, his eyes only for his boyfriend.

“Then they are officially ours,” he looked down at the kitty. 

They ended up naming the two cats Ra and Horus like two of the most important Egyptian gods. This put Alastair in a good mood, and he decided to leave the hot air balloon fiasco behind him. And so did Thomas with the Persian dish.

“I will cook khoresht-e ghormeh sabzi the day after tomorrow,” Alastair announced that evening, when they were on the rug playing with the kitties. “Since it is going to be an important day for us and you’re not going to make that for me.”

“I planned to ask Risa,” Thomas confessed. “But no, I don’t think I can. I will ask somebody to go on the balloon ride with me.”

“Fair enough. My fear shouldn’t stop you from doing these activities, but for the love of the Angel, be careful,” he warned.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Let’s say Ra and Horus are our gifts, what’s that sound?”

“Good,” Alastair smiled, and he couldn’t help but kiss his boyfriend on the rug, the cat making meows of protest. “Let’s hope they don’t develop an Aedipus complex,” he added, and Thomas couldn’t help but laugh.

Fairchild. We decided that the cats, now officially named Ra and Horus, will be our anniversary gift to each other. Just wanted to let you know for no other reason than to thank you. I thought keeping them here was a bad idea, but it turned out better than expected. Thomas says to come with Oscar if you want them to meet so they can be friends. And next time we go to Cirenworth, you could come with him to visit. You don’t have to respond to this message.

Matthew received the fire message right when he was lounging on his bed with Oscar and smiled. Were they friends now? He didn’t know. He just knew that, in spite of everything, he had enjoyed spending a day with Alastair Carstairs and to his surprise, he thought they also had things in common. He would definitely bring Oscar to Cornwall Gardens to become Ra and Horus’ friend and would gladly accept an invitation to Cirenworth. 

Who said that cats and dogs couldn’t be friends?

#tsc #tsc fanfiction #tlh #alastair carstairs #matthew fairchild #thomas lightwood #thomastair #alastair and thomas #the last hours #chain of thorns #chain of iron #chain of gold #tsc fan fiction #tweety.writes #tweety's celebration #posta