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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

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Hey Lola! I have a request for a fic 😅 could we please maybe get Matthew x Tora with random prompts 2 and 4, please?

I seriously want to learn more about them. They seem so sweet and domestic 🥺 but also the kind of couple that’s always bickering 💕I can’t wait for you to update Your Move.

This makes me so happy Livvy babe thank you 🥺

Also I know you have an OC who ends up with Matthew as well and she seems really interesting and I have been meaning to read that so I will get to it eventually I promise <3

I hope you like this dear, I'm nervous about posting it but I hope you enjoy <3

To people on the Taglist: Please feel free to ignore this since Tora isn't a Canon character!

You Are Wonderful

Prompts: “We have a problem.” “What did you do now?” “Nothing!” “Bull!” and “Make me.”

Several shadowhunters were with the Merry Thieves, as were numerous downworlder residents, however at this hour there weren’t many, definitely not enough, at the Devil’s Tavern. There were swarms of demons.

Matthew was with James when the demons came. Hideous things, as many demons were. Raveners however, were particularly ugly. Insect-like things, black, with claws on each of multiple legs, a cluster of glistening eyes on a circular skull, rows of sharp teeth, and a tail with the texture of an alligator but the form of a scorpion. He had his back pressed up against Christopher’s as two approached them on either side. “Tom, Jamie,” he called over to the pair, who were finishing off one of the demons.

The two glanced over, darting towards them. “Why are there so damn many?” Thomas demanded, moving to try and sneak behind one as Matthew split off to distract it from the front, James and Christopher doing the same with the other one.

“Clearly,” Kit called, rolling out of the way as the thing snapped at him. “We have severely pissed off a warlock.”

“I’ll say,” Matthew muttered, though he couldn’t think of anyone they could have angered enough to do this.

Tom prepared his bolas, aiming for the back of the creature's neck to sever it, when it unexpectedly lunged at Matthew, who had been somewhat dancing around it, moving from side to side and ducking to avoid it’s fangs. The bola flew through the air and missed, colliding with the tail instead. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it had lost its stinger. It flew towards Matthew, who stumbled back in surprise, but before anything could happen to him, something landed on it’s back from behind him. A wolf of a rusted color, claw’s sinking into its back and jaw coming down and sinking into its skull. The creature let out a hideous pained noise, faltering before falling completely on the ground as the werewolf of too much familiarity sunk her teeth deeper into it, and the creature twitched twice before falling still, dieing.

She released her hold on it’s neck, stepping off it’s back. She shifted back into her human form, and before him stood Tora Kimbers, wiping at her mouth with a look of disgust. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she wore a white buttoned shirt that looked suspiciously like one of Matthew’s, and black dress pants. “I’m going to puke later, and it’s going to be on you,” she told him, pointing a stern finger at the blond.

Matthew nodded, somewhat dumbstruck by her sudden arrival. “We have a problem,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow, looking around as though to say I can see that. “What did you do now?” She asked, just now seeming to notice the reasons why they would be faced by these particular demons.

“Nothing!”

“Bull!”

“To the best of my knowledge,” he added.

“Good lord,” she sighed, shaking her head. “How many are there, would you say?” She asked, seeming to direct the question at all the Thieves.

“Ten more, I’ve estimated,” Christopher said with a hint of annoyance at the still remaining numbers.

Tora nodded.

“How are you here?” Matthew asked, finally putting together that she had previously been at his flat, and wouldn’t have any knowledge of what was going on at the tavern.

She crossed her arms in a stubborn manner. “Do you know the hour? Ungodly, Matthew, ungodly. I was waiting for you to return and I eventually came looking for you, and it’s good that I did,” she added. She gestured behind him. “I brought my pack when I saw what was going on.”

He glanced behind him, and saw that the number of werewolves had indeed increased.

“That’s a relief,” he noted.

She smirked. “Right, let’s get on with this then.”

She shifted back into her wolf form without another word, taking off towards one of the demons. “Tora wait-” Matthew paused when two other werewolves accompanied her while facing the demon.

He felt Christopher lean over next to him and whisper, “I’d keep that one,” before taking off to help another group of downworlders fight. Matthew flushed, rushing over to the demon Tora was with.

There was a werewolf on it’s back, attempting to do the same thing Tora had done moments ago, while one latched to the back of its tail to keep it from stinging anyone, while Tora ran around it, slashing and biting at its legs.

It snapped at Matthew as he neared it, and the motion caused the wolf on its tail to lose its grip, and the creature raised its stinger to strike at the wolf on its back. Matthew moved, grateful to his speed rune, quickly enough to push the werewolf away, just as the stinger came down and struck the demon in the back of its own neck.

The four stepped back and watched the demon as it died, Matthew letting out a sigh of relief. “Not terribly too bright, are they?” He asked no one in particular. Tora let out a huff that could have been translated as a laugh in wolf talk, and the werewolf he had saved nodded to him gratefully, taking off towards another demon.

By the time they finished the fight, everyone, shadowhunters and downworlders alike, were exhausted. Tora was speaking with a vampire she was somewhat acquainted with, never fully understanding the hate werewolves and vampires for some reason shared for each other, when Matthew trekked over to her. He was covered in ichor and blood, and Tora excused herself to meet him halfway, checking over him for injuries.

“Do relax, love. We’re done fighting,” he said as she moved behind him to inspect his back.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” She asked, closely inspecting a bloody patch on his shirt. “Where’d this come from?”

“Tora,” he turned around, taking her hands and bringing them up to his chest. “I am fine. I promise. It’s not my blood, Christopher had a weapons incident. Not to worry though, we’ve fixed him up.”

She nodded after a moment, looking over at the mentioned shadowhunter. “Are you alright Christopher?” She called.

He looked up at her, then nodded. He looked somewhat dazed, and his healthy form but confused face was somewhat amusing. “I am quite alright, no need to worry,” he answered. Thomas glanced over at them, waving the questions off as he helped Christopher from where he was on the ground, James drawing Irazates on his arm. “He’s fine-”

“Just one more…” She heard James complain, and the noises settled into a playful argument as Christopher tried to quiet both boys. Matthew’s shoulders shook with laughter and Tora smiled.

“Go home?” He asked.

She looked up and nodded, but before either could move they heard a loud, rather annoyed voice from the top of the street as the one and only Lucie Herondale descended down upon them, bringing with her Anna, Cordelia, and Alastair. Matthew grimaced, then took Tora’s hand quickly and started in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” She asked, hearing as the three new shadowhunters started in on James, Thomas, and Christopher for not getting help during the demon attack.

“Leaving before I get scolded,” he informed her, breaking into a run. Tora started to laugh and she heard Lucie calling for them just as they rounded the opposite corner. They took the long way back to the flat.

When they arrived, it was late, the sky outside dark like ink, the streets quiet, the only light on the street the dim street lamps. Matthew flopped onto the sofa, closing his eyes. Tora rushed over and attempted to pull him off, which would have been a difficult task if not for the strength of lycanthropes.

“What’s that for?” He asked as he steadied himself on his feet, glancing over as she started adjusting the pillows on the sofa.

“You,” she said sternly, “Are covered in blood and ichor and sweat and dirt and all sorts of nasty things,” she informed him. She turned back around, and he reviled slightly in the satisfaction of their height difference, her far shorter than him. However, she was much like his mother in that sense, short and easily underestimated, however drawing strength from being firm and stubborn. He recalled a time they had been at a large gathering at the Devil’s Tavern, and Kellington had approached him. He’d had no interest in speaking with him but Kellington hadn’t left him alone, and the situation seemed as though it would have escalated dangerously had Tora not broken a glass over the other werewolves head, a hint of satisfaction evident on her face as she dragged him, gapping, away from the table and to the bar. Later he had found out Keelington had been quite cruel to her about her skin and heritage in the past, and therefore she had little respect for the werewolf.

Suddenly, a hand was snapping at his face. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” he said, meeting her eyes to prove she had his attention.

“What did I just say, then?”

“That I was covered in nasty things.”

She pursed her lips. “That was two minutes ago.”

He furrowed his brow. “Apologies, do continue.”

“Are you drunk at all?” She asked, face suddenly falling as she scanned him for any signs of alcohol influence.

He shook his head quickly, placing a hand on her arm. “No, no. I didn’t have anything tonight, I’ve abided by our agreement.”

She nodded, looking relieved. They had made an arrangement shortly after they had officially started seeing each other. Matthew told her of his alcohol issues, thinking she might leave him right then and that he may as well have gotten it over with. Little had he known, Tora had struggled with alcohol in her youth, and they had arranged that Matthew would only drink under supervision. Oftentimes he stuck to only doing so around her, and it had started to lessen the problem. Other times he drank around the Thieves or other friends, but not avoided doing so heavily. “Anyway,” she started, placing a hand on his cheek, “As I had said, I’ll run you a bath, then we can rest. Lord knows we’ve earned it.”

He chuckled softly. “Thank you.”

She nodded, walking off to the bathroom. Matthew took the time to start the kettle, brewing a quick cup of tea. He finished it just as she called him into the bathroom, and he walked into their bedroom and saw her leaning in the door frame. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to join me?” He asked, smirking slightly.

She smiled and shook her head. “Arse.”

“That is a fair question!”

She laughed and started towards the door, but he caught her around the waist and held her up against his chest. “Matthew! Let go,” she laughed as he hugged her tighter. “You’re dirty!”

“Make me,” he challenged.

She took one of his arms around her waist and he regretted saying such a thing as she twisted it slightly, but it was enough to get him to release her and step away. “Ow,” he whined after she released her grip on him.

She took his hand and kissed it, bowing goofily and placing her other arm behind her back. “Better?” She asked, looking up.

He smirked, “A little.”

“Good.” She straightened herself, starting for the door again.

“There is tea for you,” he called.

She looked over her shoulder. “You made me tea?”

“Indeed I did.”

She smiled. “You are wonderful.”

“Don’t I know.”

She laughed gently, leaving and shutting the door behind her.

They both slept in later the next morning, curled up in bed after Tora had finished her tea and Matthew his bath, happy to rest together after a dreadfully long night.

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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

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MATTHEW FAIRCHILD

We do not get to choose when in our lives we feel pain.

@julesblcckthorn @my-archerboy @sarahofthewildhunt @americann-idiot @radisv @proofthatshithappend @nora-holleran @haline-of-troy @ddepressedbookworm @dark-artifices-only @the-enchanted-dreamer @lqdyofroses @jordeliasupremacy @gorgeous-herondale @kiwichaeng @gabtapia @hardlymatters @gherondale @generalnabri @alonlyfangirl @nnazyalensky @shadowhuntingdemigod @icycoolslushie @theresaherondalecarstairss @sevenstarsforsevenloves @runecarstairs @alexandergideonslightwood @magnus-the-maqnificent @luciehercndale @immortal-enemies @spooky-drusilla @anarchistbitch @megs-readstoomuch @i-love-books-and-i-cannot-lie @styxdrawings @autumnangel20 @chibi-tsukiko @thomaslightwood @shadowhuntertrash @ninacarstairss @emablckthrn @necromancerlucie @darklingswhxore @youngreckless @high-warlock-of-brooklyn @sparkofsummer @livvyheronstairs @beclynn-herondale @khaleesiofalicante @tsccreatorsnet

let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist

#the last hours #Matthew Fairchild

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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

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𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒘 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅

“We do not get to choose when in our lives we feel pain," said Matthew. "It comes when it comes, and we try to remember, even though we cannot imagine a day when it will release its hold on us, that all pain fades. All misery passes. Humanity is drawn to light, not darkness.”

#beautiful

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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

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1/9

Medieval AU

tag list: @anarmorofwords @rinadragomir @iloveallmyocs @lysakirova @cant-think-of-anything @carstairrs @khaleesiofalicante @drunkonimagination @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @underestimatedgenius @like-we-are-made-of-starlightt1 @our-insentient-touches (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

#our golden boy #💛#matthew fairchild #matthew fairchild appreciation

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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

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i call this one ‘a lil’ matthew sees jamie across the institute ballroom at a christmas party and just wants a new friend’ (green carnations are so fun to draw tf)

(+ a bonus sketch panel uwu)

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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

Link

okay guys so like matthew fairchild playlist anyone?? (psssst go to my profile to see more tlh playlists and other funky stuff)

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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

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Matthew Fairchild

"He believed there was more to life than blood and fire. There was beauty, there was art, there was color."

No Not Repost

Please ask first and credit before using

💚🤍💚🤍

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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

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Matthew Fairchild Edit/Wallpaper

For an amazing character with a love and appreciation for Oscar Wilde and Golden Retrievers 💚

Do Not Repost

Please ask first and credit before using

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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

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Um hello! If u were still taking requests could I request a Charlotte or Henry and a little (as in child, pre academy) Matthew fic? Like little Matthew playing in his father’s lab, not because he’s there to mess with his things, more so that he is there so Henry can keep an eye on him, and something blows up and Henry thinks Matthew got hurt OR Matthew does get hurt

Or Charlotte coming home from dealing with clave idiots and being bombarded by a toddler Matthew who is just really god damn excited to see his mom again after not seeing her ALL DAY (to his toddler brain must have been like freaking forever)

Feel free to ignore if it’s not your thing! I like your stuff, keep doing what your doing cause it’s great. Best! — a anon.

HI ANON! THANK YOU FOR THIS IT'S SUPER SWEET AND YES IM ALWAYS OPEN FOR REQUESTS! 💚

Okay, so, I haven't read TDI yet so I don't know much about Charlotte and Henry

B U T I did my research, I asked some mutuals, and I was most definitely thrilled to write tiny Matthew with his parents! So hopefully I did okay on this! Also, I shall use this for Matthew appreciation week, since I haven't been doing anything for it for the past two weeks 😅

I'm also so so sorry this took forever I'll be quicker in the future I swear <3

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Good To Be Home

Matthew Fairchild/Fairchild Family One Shot

Matthew sat on one of the tables in the lab, swinging his feet as he saw his father flip through notes on a seperate desk. His mother was working at the Institute and Charles was god knows where, and Matthew had tasked himself with the honorable mission to look after his father while in the lab. “What are you doing?” He asked, trying to crane his neck over and see what exactly was in his father’s notes, though he couldn’t read it from the spot he was out.

Henry smiled at him over his shoulder, he gestured for Matthew to come over, and the boy hopped down and Henry picked him up, placing him on his lap as he started to point out what he was writing down and explaining the science behind it, when he finished, Matthew was staring wide eyes the paper, like he couldn’t believe his father could remember all those things just by looking at two pages of notes.

“And you build stuff by using these?” He asked, pointing at the paper.

Henry laughed softly and nodded. “Yes, I use them to build things.”

Matthew smiled. “That’s a lot. I’m smart enough to do all that.” He opened his arms out wide, like he was gesturing to the entire room.

Henry grinned. “Of course you are, Matthew. You’ll learn lot’s of new things. Perhaps you won’t invent, perhaps you will, but you’ll find your passions all in due time,” he tapped his nose, “My clever boy.”

Matthew giggled and looked back over at the notebook, reaching over. “What’s on the next page…”

Matthew leaned over and grabbed the bottle of liquid his father had requested, sitting over by a large, elaborate chemistry set over on the table. There was something boiling off to the side, and Henry happily took the bottle from Matthew, starting to pour it into several bottles and beakers of liquids and other substances. “Why are you doing that?” He asked, peering over with sincere curiosity.

“I am looking to see which chemical makeup I need to use to create a battery for a new machine test,” he said happily, writing something down in the book.

“Oh,” Matthew looked at the liquids with a newfound interest. He decided, with childlike wonder, that he was going to try and help. Of course, he did not voice these thoughts. He jumped down from where he sat on a stool, walking over while Henry busied himself with writing down his observations and findings in a particular beaker.

Matthew took another liquid, pouring it into the beaker next to it. He didn’t know what he expected, but he definitely hadn’t expected the glass to explode. He ducked under the table and heard Henry swear as glass shards flew throughout the room and acidic liquid poured off the table and started to sink into the floor and eat at the wood on the table. A large amount of it landed on Matthew’s hand and he flinched back, making a pained sound.

Henry rolled over to Matthew, sweeping him up into his lap and making for the stairs. He expected his father to be mad, but Henry gave him a concerned look as he held his hand tightly, a red tint starting to creep over the skin. He moved them into the kitchen, running water at the sink and sticking Matthew’s hand under it. He winced, but the cooler temperature helped ease the burning. He was placed on the counter, Henry rummaging through drawers for bandages. “Keep your hand under the water,” he told him.

There was a pause and Matthew finally spoke when Henry retrieved the bandages and started back towards him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Toh is surprise, Henry smiled kindly at him. “You didn’t know any better, Matthew,” he told him. “It’s quite alright. Mistakes are made in labs, it’s simply what they’re for. Are you alright?” Matthew nodded and Henry looked relieved, turning off the water and starting to bandage Matthew’s hand. “That is the most important thing.”

Matthew gave him a quizzical look. “You’re not mad?”

Henry shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He looked back up at Matthew, and his smile faded as his eyes drifted down to Matthew’s arm. He took it, and Matthew, for the first time, notices a stain of red on his white shirt. “Did the glass knick you?”

“I don’t know,” he said, a little startled. “Is it going to heal?”

Henry nodded, taking a deep breath and smiling once more to try and calm Matthew’s nerves. “It is just a cut, we will just wrap it up. Besides, if you didn’t feel it I doubt the cut is very deep. It'll be good as new in a few days.”

“What will be good as new in a few days?” Charlotte asked, walking into the room. Henry looked up with an expression like he had caught the house on fire, and Matthew looked over and grinned at his mother. “MUM!” He exclaimed happily. He hadn’t expected her to be back from a meeting at the Rome Institute so soon, apparently neither had his father. Henry had an endearing look in his eyes the way he always did when he saw Charlotte, but this time he also had a guilty expression. Charlotte raised an eyebrow when no one responded to her question. “What happened?”

“I blew up a glass,” Matthew said, sounding proud of himself. Henry grimaced as Charlotte's gaze flashed to him.

“Did you now?” She asked, voice neutral.

“There was,” Henry rubbed the back of his neck shyly, “Incident.”

“An incident?”

“We were in the lab, a glass blew up.”

“Was anyone injured?” She asked, sounding concerned, starting towards the pair. When she neared she saw the bandage on Matthew’s hand, and the red on his sleeve. She looked at her husband. “Henry! How did this happen?” She asked, sounding somewhat frantic.

“It was an accident,” Matthew protested before his father could speak. “I didn’t know!”

“You did it?” She asked.

He nodded. “But Dad said it wasn’t my fault.”

“It was not,” Henry confirmed, “It was mine, I should have been paying closer attention.”

Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. Are you both alright?”

Henry nodded, then looked at Matthew. “His hand was burnt slightly, and a glass caught his arm, but he should heal very quickly.”

Charlotte nodded, placing her hand on his face. “I’ll get you a new shirt darling. Will you bandage his arm?”Henry nodded, smiling at his wife. She returned the sentiment and walked out to retrieve the shirt for Matthew.

Henry bandaged his arm. It turns out he was correct, the cut wasn’t very deep, just bleeding. Matthew said he couldn’t feel it at all and Henry had ruffled his hair, claiming him as his strong little boy.

“Here you go dear,” Charlotte said, walking in the room. She got the clean shirt on Matthew and kissed his head before looking over at Henry. She frowned suddenly, looking at his face.

“What is it?” He asked.

“You are also bleeding,” she told him, running her thumb over a spot on his face. She had noticed there was a thin cut on Henry’s cheek and it was dark with the build up of blood.

“Am I?” He asked, sounding confused.

She nodded, taking out her stele and drawing a quick Irazte on his collarbone. The cut faded immediately and she smiled again, placing her hand on his cheek. “Much better,” she said, and he leaned into her hand, smiling up at her.

She was gone from the house so often, her duties as council often pulling her away, it was rejoicing to see her husband and her boys again, even if Charles had retreated into his room after asking about her trip when she had seen him in the hall.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Matthew reach out to her, and she smiled, picking him up and holding him against her hip. She grunted from his weight, and sighed, tapping his nose. “Who gave you the right to get bigger, Matthew,” she teased.

He scrunched his face and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

She and Henry started to laugh softly, and so did Matthew. Charlotte felt content, next to her husband and one of her sons in her arms. She was home now and her husband was happy, and her boy saw so much in everything and found joy in the smallest of things. It was good to be home.

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Taglist: @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @melanielocke @justanormaldemon @writeforjordelia @carstairrs @lifewouldbebetteronmars @ddepressedbookworm @shadowhunting-hooligans @shadowrunner2000 @hardlymatters @littlx-songbxrd @totalbookmaniac @livingformyself @cant-think-of-anything @bookishperfection @herondamnn @myangelbach @wagnerthedragon @sanibond @livvyheronstairs @readwithlivvy @americann-idiot @fair-childd @spearsandcarstairs @jianming @readersconfessions812 @imherongraystairstrash @lightwoodsimp

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

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matthew-the-golden-boy-child · 3 years

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Empty of Virtue

Week 3 of Matthew Fairchild Appreciation Month: Fluff and/or Angst

Words: 1576

Notes: This is the James and Matthew argument scene from Chain of Iron in Matthew’s POV. Anything in bold is taken from Chain of Iron Chapter 18: Goblin Market

Tw alcohol abuse and self-hate

✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳

The cold wind nipped at Matthew's neck as he moved his coat aside to stow the bottle of wine he had swiped into his inside pocket. Having done that, he took out his flask and emptied the last dregs of the drink into his mouth. The liquid tasted bitter on his mouth, and burned through his throat, mixing with the cool air to produce an effect that felt like cool mint.

He was talking to James beside him, who was speaking in slightly sarcastic tones mixed with disappointment. Their search through the Shadow Market had been futile; all their inquiries on demonic adamas had turned up nothing. Not that Matthew was paying particular attention: the Shadow Market brought back painful memories he wished he could forget.

But forget he could not. He would never forget the lack of trust he had had in his family, or the unreasonable trust he had had in the fearie. His secrets were his to bear alone, to remember and regret and grieve for in silence.

James stopped to check the directory as Cordelia stepped out from between two stalls. She walked up to him, white snowflakes caught in her hair. Matthew realized his vice wasn’t a secret anymore. But it had been pure selfishness, for him to burden Cordelia with his own pains. She had not done anything wrong, yet she felt Matthew’s pain just as he did, just as he knew she would. And she never judged him, just like he knew she would.

“Remind me to never again inquire as to why one might hang a pelt of werewolf fur on the opposite side of a shop owned by werewolves,” Cordelia muttered as she came up to him. Her lips were curved up in a half-smile, and Matthew returned it with one of his own. His heart wasn’t in it though, and Cordelia saw through his ruse. She leaned close to him and laid a hand on top of his, which sent a jolt of warmth up his arm, never mind that he was wearing gloves. Her red hair blew in the wind, loose strands tickling Matthew’s face. He moved slightly away from her.

“Matthew,” Cordelia murmured. “Are you alright?”

He wasn’t alright, but he put on a brave smile anyway. The Smile always worked. “I’m okay,” he said.

Cordelia gave his hand a squeeze and left to continue the search for the adamas. Matthew watched her go, and something in his chest swelled, a mix of gratitude and other emotions. He sighed gently, pushing these thoughts away. It wasn’t fair to any of them.

Only fumbling a little while he closed his flask, Matthew put the container back into his coat and took out the wine bottle. He walked towards James, who was standing some feet away like a solid ice sculpture. He was staring at something, and Matthew followed his gaze to see it was Cordelia. When James looked at Cordelia like that Matthew found it puzzling: James told him over and over again that his heart belonged to Grace Blackthorn, and Matthew didn’t think it fair to either Grace or Cordelia if James played such games. He didn’t find it fair to himself either, but then James could never have known.

James asked him where Lucie was, and Matthew offhandedly responded that she had gone to find Christopher. He wasn’t paying attention to their conversation; the alcoholic was taking effect, and he was still watching James watch Cordelia. Only when James mentioned Grace did he jolt back to reality.

“You saw Grace?” His voice came out cold. James knew, he had agreed he wouldn’t see Grace, he would spare Cordelia the humiliation, he wouldn’t insult her dignity. To mention seeing Grace, at his house, so casually—

Something snapped within Matthew. James was better than this. He had to be, one of them had to be the one with morals. Matthew had strayed long ago from the righteous path, but not James. Not James.

Without thinking he grabbed James and shoved him into the alley way, pushing him against the wall. He heard James protest, but he didn’t let go. Cordelia’s father had just died, James shouldn’t have disregarded her in such a way. Matthew was telling James all this, but James didn’t seem put off. In fact, as he calmly told Matthew that he had already told Cordelia, Matthew lost his temper again and threw his hands in the air, splashing red droplets of wine onto the white ground.

“Do not insult Cordelia like that,” he said. “She deserves better than to be seen as an anchor around your neck.”

Cordelia was the only one who understood Matthew, and understood why he acted the way he did. She knew his secret, and Matthew knew that Cordelia did love James, although James didn’t. They were all meant to be friends; there wasn’t meant to be so many secrets.

And when James mentioned that he didn’t even know why he had kissed Grace the day before, Matthew felt an odd feeling: he remembered another day, the day Grace had asked him to kiss him and he did so willingly. Then too he couldn’t recall why he had done it.

Another secret between them.

James continued talking about Grace, but Matthew didn’t understand. All he knew was that James had hurt Cordelia, who didn’t deserve to be hurt. And James never looked happy with Grace.

James was a good person; there was no reason for him to ruin his life. He hadn’t done anything he could not be forgiven for. Not like Matthew had.

“I will not continue to watch you make yourself miserable,” said Matthew. “There is no point to it—if you will never see reason or good sense—”

James did something Matthew did not expect him to: he mentioned alcohol. Never once had they ever had a conversation about Matthew's drinking, but here was James pointing out that Matthew was drunk, that he might not mean anything he had said, that he'd never let go of his bottle for long enough to take love seriously, so he had no right to lecture James about his love life. Matthew felt himself go still, felt his face drain of color as James' talked, felt his heart hammer away as James snapped at him, but rightfully so.

Which was the worst part. Even now Matthew's vision was brightened and objects were constantly refocusing themselves, slipping between sharpness and blurriness. Yes, he was drunk, but James could see why he drank so much, right? Even if he didn't know about Matthew’s unforgivable sin, he could at least see there was something wrong, couldn't he? That to Matthew drinking wasn't just a fun activity to do, that it was necessary for him, that he didn't know how to act without alcohol. That without alcohol he'd have too much space to think, to ponder on the dark and gloomy thoughts that occupied his mind when he was sober.

It wasn't that he didn't think James would eventually confront him. He'd been expecting it, almost wanting it. But he'd expect it to be understanding, not this brash and snappish conversation. Out of them all James was the one who could understand people the best, despite being so introverted.

He had once been the light to James. Once James had looked towards him and seen the goodness in Matthew that lay as a foundation under all his playfulness and vanity. But now James regarded him mockingly with his golden eyes, ridiculing Matthew's foolishness. Already time and time again Matthew reminded himself that he didn't have to act how he did, drink as much as he did, that what he'd done didn't determine the rest of his life. But if even James, his parabatai, his brother both in arms and in friendship, didn’t see the good in him anymore, how could he?

Matthew’s hand was white and taunt around the bottle in his hand. A wave of unfathomable fury and anger went through him as he looked at the thing that was destroying his life. The object that he let destroy his life, because it was also the only thing that kept him going, and because the only other option wasn’t a life at all. He didn’t see his hand move, but suddenly he felt his skin split as sharp shards of glass bounced off the wall where he had slammed the bottle into the brick wall. He watched with disconnected curiosity as fat droplets of blood appeared on his palm, hardly even feeling the pain. It was nothing compared to what he felt inside, but it did help ease him a little.

Then James was holding his hand, looking worried as he fumbled for his stele to heal Matthew. Cordelia had found them and was making distressing noises over the scene. Matthew heard them speaking as if from behind a glass: something he could witness but not take part of. He distantly heard Cordelia asking him if he were alright.

“I was playing around,” Matthew said, putting effort into making his voice sound very drunk, although not much effort was needed. “I cut myself and James brought me back here for a healing rune. So silly of me. Who knew toys had sharp edges?” He was aware of James giving him a look as he bent over Matthew’s hand, but he didn’t care. After all he was, why not be a liar as well?

✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳✳

lmk if you want to be added or removed!

@gabtapia @dark-artifices-only @nnazyalensky @shadowrunner2000 @carstairrs @hardlymatters @the-blackdale @writeforjordelia @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @noah-herondale-lightwood @proofthatshithappend @ddepressedbookworm @sohalia01 @writeordie-4 @thelastfunctioningbraincell @like-we-are-made-of-starlightt1 @totalbookmaniac @blackasmysoul @melanielocke @lifewouldbebetteronmars @the-enchanted-dreamer @drunkonimagination

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