#but the whole ‘if you do this i will forgive your transgressions’ angle is so SLIMY and MANIPULATIVE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

edactually · 2 years ago

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Stede POV - 10.1

Stede arrived back at the hotel after his meeting on the dot at five o’clock. He patted himself on the back for both his punctuality and accuracy of guessing.

The meeting had been long and dull, just as he’d expected. Lucius’ incessant questions on the way to it, on their lunch break and on the way back to the hotel didn’t help either. He was still at it now as they walked through the lobby.

“I’m just saying, Stede, you always complain about me nosing into your personal life but if it hadn’t been for me, you never would have met him. I’m like your gay guardian angel.”

“And I have thanked you for it, Lucius.” He had bought lunch, and coffee, and even a jaunty little chiffon scarf that Lucius had spotted in a store window that was now tied in a bow around his assistant’s neck.

“I just think it would be nice for us to extend our trip a little. Well, you at least. I can fly back tomorrow as planned to see my Pete, but I can change your flight to one on Wednesday. A whole extra day with Blackbeard…” Lucius’ voice was sing-songy but Stede knew what he was really angling for.

“And in this scenario of yours,” Stede mused. “Are you flying home to go into the office on Wednesday, or do you have the day off?”

“Well I am your PA, so if you’re not at work then it makes no sense for me to be there.”

“You know full well we both have to be back at work on Wednesday for the meeting debrief.”

“Come on, Stede! An extra day off work is the least you owe me if you’re not going to tell me details of what you and Blackbeard got up to last night.”

“That is personal and private and none of your business.”

“Sure sounded like the two of you were making it everyone’s business.” Lucius scoffed as they stepped into the elevator, and then his voice changed into a low and gravelly pitch that Stede could only assume was meant to be an imitation of Ed. “Oh that’s it baby, just like that – yes, yes, FUCK YES!”

Stede debated if he could throttle Lucius and escape the elevator before anyone found the body. He settled on a sharp smack to his assistant’s shoulder to tide him over while he considered it. “You were eavesdropping on us? That’s disgusting!”

“Hey, it wasn’t just me! Anne was there too!” Lucius rubbed at his shoulder, his lower lip protruding like a sulking toddler. “You never came down for dinner and ignored our messages and calls. We just wanted to check on you both and within two minutes we’d heard enough. For a five star hotel, you’d think they’d invest in soundproofing the rooms.”

“Yeah, you’d think.” Stede grumbled. In the passion of the moment, he hadn’t cared who overheard them. In fact, he’d delighted in the thought of people overhearing what he was able to do to Ed, but faced with the stark reality of someone being able to parrot back Ed’s words that had been meant only for Stede’s ears? He didn’t like it.

His emotions bounced between rage and humiliation, and so they rode the rest of the elevator ride with Stede’s teeth gritted together and Lucius shooting nervous glances in his direction. Lucius’ floor was first, but he hesitated before stepping off, blocking the doors. “I’m thinking I might have crossed a line.”

And Stede was not one for sarcasm (he found that he couldn’t pull it off well) but his voice was absolutely dripping with it as he replied. “No, really?”

“I’m sorry.”

Although Lucius seemed genuine in his apology, Stede was not ready to forgive the boy’s transgressions just yet. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and sighed deeply. “Just get out of here, Lucius. I’m in no mood.”

Lucius moved away and the doors started to close. Before they were shut entirely, Lucius’ hand reappeared to catch them so they parted again. “I don’t know if this will make things better or worse…”

Stede glared at him.

“But Anne said she’s overhead Blackbeard plenty of times, and walked in on him accidentally before too.”

One more word and Stede was going to start looking for a new PA.

“She said she’s never heard him sound as excited with anyone else as he was with you. Do with that information what you will, Casanova.”

And Lucius, that little bastard, knew exactly what effect those words would have on Stede as he let the elevator doors slide closed with a parting wink.

His words stayed with Stede for the rest of the journey in the elevator, curled through his head as he walked down the hall, and were thumping away in his chest as he walked into the hotel room using the key card that had been procured for him. He needed to take a moment, and rested his back against the door.

He had thoroughly enjoyed Ed’s enthusiasm and how vocal he was, but Stede had no frame of reference. He didn’t know if Ed was like that with all of his sexual partners or if what they’d shared was something special. He hadn’t thought about it too much, honestly because he was worried if he started to think about it then he’d spiral into believing Ed was exaggerating how much he enjoyed himself out of politeness. What if Stede’s efforts had only truly been worthy of a ‘that was nice’ while Ed thought about his previous, better lovers?

And yet Anne wouldn’t make something like that up, would she? He doubted she was privy to every detail of Ed’s sex life, but they’d been friends for long enough that Stede believed she did know some details, whether she liked it or not. If Anne swore that she’d never heard Ed be that loud and vocal with his enjoyment before, Stede could believe it.

And yet, how could he believe it? He was boring Stede Bonnet, not some sex god.

Overthinking again, Bonnet.

He shoved off of the door and wandered further into the hotel room.

Silence.

Ed wasn’t here.

Because Ed isn’t coming back.

No, shut up, yes he is.

Why would he come back? He’s had so much better than you, Bonnet, what reason does he have to return to you?

He said he would.

And you think he wouldn’t lie to spare your feelings?

Stede pressed the heels of his hands against eyes squeezed tightly closed. The first sign of madness was supposed to be talking to yourself, wasn’t it? Did it count when you were arguing with yourself in your own head?

Stede tried to breathe, tried to focus on not overthinking, and remembering what Ed had told him that morning: “Ed thinks Stede should believe in himself more. Ed also likes Stede very much and doesn’t want anyone else.”

Ed likes Stede very much.

Ed lied.

Ed doesn’t want anyone else.

Ed could have anyone else.

“Fuck fuck fuuuuuck!” Stede screamed the words to the empty room.

Why couldn’t he just let himself believe, for five minutes? It was so much easier to believe when Ed was with him, alone he was just plagued with doubt and fear and it was fucking exhausting.

He leaned against the arm of the couch, debating what he could do to distract himself and stop overthinking. He didn’t want to run again. Stede was so tired of running away every time he got scared. He was tired of being a coward. “I am adequate.” He said sternly to himself. “Ed likes me. Ed will come back.”

It made things a little easier to say out loud. It was easier to believe the spoken statements against the ones in his head, so Stede continued with his tactic of verbalising positive responses to the negative thoughts.

Ed doesn’t want you.

“Ed does want me, he said so.”

Then why isn’t he here?

“He’s at rehearsal, they often run late.”

Or he’s avoiding you.

“He wouldn’t do that, he wants to see me.”

What if he did end up giving Jack his hotel schedule? What if Jack showed up to surprise him too, and they’re together right now?

“That’s– that’s different, Ed said they were only friends with benefits. We’re more than that.”

Are you sure? You haven’t put a label on what the two of you are, you haven’t even said if you’re exclusive. He might be fucking Jack right now because he thinks you’re fine with it.

“No! Ed said he… surely he knows that I wouldn’t want that?”

Mhm, you sound very sure about that.

“This is ridiculous, we haven’t even been apart for an entire day, how can I be this paranoid?”

Because it’s you, Stede Bonnet. Clingy and possessive of a man who might have said he doesn’t want anyone else, but could have anyone he wants. You’re going to scare him off and there are plenty of people who could step into your place.

So much for Stede’s plan of challenging the negative thoughts. It really was a talent how much he could turn his own mind against itself, what a shame there was no way to monetise it. He could make millions.

His shoulders slumped, giving up on any attempt to keep the bad thoughts at bay. It was easier to just let them wash over him like crashing waves, let them pull him under the water and clog his eyes and ears and nose and mouth. Let the sting of salt rub into those open wounds as he was pulled down deeper, deeper, deeper–

The hotel room door swung open so viciously that the loud slam it made against the wall caused Stede to flinch.

It was Ed.

Out of breath, dripping in sweat and eyes as wide as dinner plates, but it was undeniably him at the door.

“Ed?” He asked quietly, as if there were some chance that his own mind had conjured the image to torture him.

But Ed was limping as he crossed the space between them, and Stede would never imagine Ed to be hurt. Ed stopped in front of him, suddenly hesitant as if he too were wondering if Stede was really there.

“You came back.” “You came back.”

They said it at the same time, and after a brief pause for them to both understand that, they broke into simultaneous grins.

Stede couldn’t say who moved first, only that they went from looking at each other in shocked delight to being wrapped up in each other’s arms, kissing like their lives depended on it. Ed shoved him back against the arm of the couch, and Stede’s balance wobbled. Within seconds they were both falling, toppling over the arm of the couch to land on its cushions. It wasn’t without discomfort, as the impact was heavy, but Stede would happily take a set of bruised ribs and a sprained tailbone to have Ed on top of him, still attacking Stede’s mouth with his own as if stopping meant he would disappear.

Stede felt nothing but dazed delight. It was only when Ed’s mouth moved from his lips to his neck that he was able to gain a moment of clarity. “Darling, your knee–”

“Fuck my knee.” Ed growled, and caught Stede’s earlobe between his teeth.

Stede tried not to let it distract him. “I saw you limping. And you’re still out of breath, and–” He could inhale Ed’s familiar scent, even though it was tinged with a new musk. “You’re sweating. What happened?”

Ed didn’t answer, he just used that devilish mouth of his to try and distract Stede once more by trailing kisses along his jawline.

“Edward!” One of Stede’s hands clutched at Ed’s hair, pulling with enough force to lift the man’s head off him, but not enough to cause pain. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” Ed grumbled, and tried to kiss him again.

Stede turned his head away. “It is not nothing if you’re hurt! Tell me!”

Ed groaned ike Stede was subjecting him to torture by denying him kisses and thunked his head down hard on Stede’s shoulder. His answer was a muffled mumble against Stede’s suit jacket that even in close proximity to his ear, Stede couldn’t understand. “Pardon?”

Ed lifted his head enough to be coherent. “Ran up the fucking stairs.”

“Ran up the– the hotel stairs? Ed, we’re so high up!”

“Elevator was taking too long.”

“So you ran up all of those flights of stairs? Jesus Christ, Ed! You could have done some real damage! Is your knee ok? Let me see it.” Stede squirmed underneath him to try and get loose to inspect Ed’s injury, but found his hands suddenly pinned above his head on the couch.

“M’fine. Stop worrying.”

“You are most certainly not fine! Why would you do something so reckless?”

Ed gave him a pointed look. Stede’s eyes widened. “No.” He breathed. “You can’t be serious.”

“I was late, I didn’t want you to think–” Ed’s voice suddenly sounded ragged. “Think that I wasn’t coming. And maybe I was rushing because I was worried that if I didn’t get up here fast enough then you… you wouldn’t be here.”

And in that moment, Stede wanted to take every shred of doubt, every panicked thought that Ed had abandoned him, and tell them all to royally fuck off to hell.

“I’ll always come back for you, Ed.” He whispered. “Every time.”

Ed’s mouth was back upon his before he could take a breath, but Stede couldn’t have cared less. It was cataclysmic and Stede felt those same crashing waves breaking over his head and sending him down to the depths, but it didn’t matter as long as he had Ed to be his oxygen. He could breathe forever in such dark waters because Ed was wrapped around him and Ed would not let him drown.

Stede’s hands were still pinned above his head on the couch, and Ed’s warm weight pressed down against him. Unfortunately, with both of Ed’s hands occupied holding both of Stede’s hands in place, balance became an issue as Ed tried to shift his weight off his pained knee and in doing so, slipped said knee off the side of the couch. His body rolled with it as he tumbled off the couch, and rather than let Ed fall alone, Stede rolled right after him so they could land in a heap on the floor together.

“Oh dear,” Stede giggled as he tucked himself into Ed’s side and under his arm rather than crush him underneath his weight. “We’re not very good at these grandiose romantic reunions, are we?”

“Practice makes perfect.” Ed turned his head towards him once more, but before they could resume their kiss, Stede spied an envelope poking out of Ed’s jeans pocket that was starting to look worse for wear.

“Careful, Ed.” He nodded in the direction of it. “Whatever that is, it’s getting crumpled.”

“Oh!” Ed reached into his pocket and pulled the envelope out, brandishing it proudly in the air. “Thanks for reminding me, this is for you.”

“For me?” Stede sat up and pulled Ed up with him. He took the envelope in hand and turned it over. It was fancy stationery - ivory, with an embossed ‘BB’ on the front that looked like some kind of logo. Blackbeard, maybe? He slipped a finger underneath the flap of the envelope to lift it and extracted a similarly fancy card.

Blackbeard and Guest,

You are cordially invited to celebrate the Halloween festivities at our costume party.

We would be delighted to have the attendance of such an esteemed guest and icon of the music industry.

The Admiral Club

Monday 31st October

9pm

“A party invitation?” Stede asked.

“A costume party invitation!” Ed added, looking so excited that Stede felt guilty for not being over the moon, but he felt the need to point out the obvious.

“But this is addressed to you.”

“Blackbeard and guest.” Ed’s finger jabbed at the invitation. “You’re my guest. All of the guys got one, they arrived today while we were rehearsing, some music big-wigs trying to get in QAR’s good graces. It’s probably all a ploy to try and get the band to sign with them, but I figured a Halloween party would still be fun. And I looked up the Admiral Club and it’s fancy, all expensive drinks and teeny-tiny food and posh people, I thought you’d like it.”

Stede could understand why Ed had that impression of him. That had been Stede’s life once, before the divorce. He still hadn’t fully escaped it now, as there was still the occasional hob-nobbing with other posh nobs that was a necessity for his job, but he’d never cared for such things. The high society crowd was a fickle one, and by the looks of the invitation, that was exactly the sort of wolf’s den they were walking into. Even worse was the fact that the host would no doubt be hounding Ed and the other band members all night if they were trying to get QAR to sign with them.

It sounded awful. Stede just wanted another night locked away in this hotel room with Ed, but one look at the man’s giddy excitement and Stede knew he couldn’t say no. He plastered a smile on his face that he hoped seemed genuine. “I actually did bring a Halloween costume with me. Lucius wanted to hit some gay bars in town tonight and insisted we do it in costume. I suppose he wouldn’t mind going alone - in fact, he might prefer it so I don’t cramp his style.”

Ed plucked the invitation from his hand and tossed it onto the nearby coffee table. “Show me this costume. I hope it’s not the same as the one from Jim’s birthday party, because I’m in no mood to fight other men off all night.”

“Really, Ed.” Stede laughed, but a tiny ember of hope flickered within. That didn’t sound like something someone would say if they didn’t want to be exclusive. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

He led them into the bedroom, and as inviting as that big bed looked, he instead rummaged around in the closet until he found the garment bag hanging up. Ed had unpacked for him and his instincts had served him well by hanging this up so it didn’t crease. Stede unzipped the bag with a flourish. “Ta da!”

Ed stepped forwards and carefully lifted the sleeve of the shirt encased within the bag. “Incredible.” He looked absolutely mesmerised. “You were going to go out on a gay bar crawl dressed in this?”

“It’s Halloween, I needed a costume.”

“Stede, most people will just shove some cat ears on their head. This…” He dropped the shirt sleeve to run a hand appreciatively over the satin breeches instead. “This is special.”

“It’s rather period accurate as well.” Stede was thrilled that Ed seemed as pleased with the costume as he had been. “I was originally going to pair it with a pirate hat, but I thought it cheapened the look.”

“That’s the right call.” Ed’s eyes alighted on something draped over the hanger. “Holy shit, are these stockings?”

“Aren’t they perfect?” Maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad after all, not if they could spend the night talking costuming details. “What about you, what’s your costume?”

Ed shrugged. “Eh, I’ll just throw on the Blackbeard outfit.”

“That’s not a costume!”

Ed’s eyes didn’t lift from where he was running the stockings through his fingers. “Isn’t it?”

And oh, how devastating those two words were.

Because of course the Blackbeard stage outfit was a costume. It was one Ed had been wearing for years, and now they were going to this party and Ed would be forced into the Blackbeard costume all night, and Stede hated the thought of it. If nothing else, Ed should have a chance to wear something different, something he really liked, not an outfit he associated with a career he was no longer satisfied with.

“Ed…” He took the hanger off the rail and presented his ensemble to him. “Would you like to wear this tonight?”

“Stede, no, you brought this for yourself, I can’t–”

“You can, and I say you should. I can find something else, I’m sure there’ll be some costume stores open on our way there.” The thought of wearing cheap polyester from a bag was very much not his style, but he would do it for Ed.

Ed took the outfit from him and held it in his hands as he chewed his lip. And then Stede could practically see the lightbulb above his head as the idea came to him. “I have a better idea.”

First Post

#edactuallysmau

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nottheheadshaker · 3 years ago

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I asked @coffeefordage for some nielan prompts and got several good ones. Here's a modern AU drunk (but not clingy, sorry) Lan Xichen meeting Nie Mingjue for the first time, with background wangxian. Is this a meet-cute? A meet-drunk? idk. Enjoy.

This is my first Untamed fic. Only time will tell if this is a good idea. (Also on AO3)

Nie Mingjue took a sip of his drink, wincing as his eardrums were assaulted by noise that some people (Huaisang) considered to be music. He didn’t want to be here, and he was pretty sure Huaisang didn’t really want him to be here either, despite all of his wide-eyed pleas for Mingjue to accompany him. How else could Mingjue explain his little brother’s disappearance as soon as they walked through the door of the club? If this was how Huaisang wanted to spend time with him, Mingjue could be doing it from home. His ears would certainly be happier for it.

He lifted his glass again, preparing to down the rest of his drink so he could leave.

“Hi,” a cheerful and somewhat breathless voice said from behind him.

Mingjue turned, a polite greeting-slash-brush off on his lips, only to have the breath knocked right out of him at the sight of the most beautiful man he had ever seen. He was smiling at Mingjue as if Mingjue was the source of all of the world’s joy. The stranger was tall and elegant, a delicate pink flush spreading along his perfect cheekbones. He was wearing a pale blue and white outfit that looked like it came out of one of Hauisang’s magazines. Not exactly a clubbing outfit, based on Huaisang’s strong - and often-shared - opinions about fashion. The man was stunning in it (and out of it, I bet, Mingjue’s brain whispered), so Huaisang would probably forgive the transgression.

“Oh,” the beautiful stranger said, “you’re even more handsome up close! Wait here, please.”

Before Mingjue could remember how to form words, the man disappeared back into the crowd. Mingjue looked down at his drink. He still had just about half of it left, so he probably wasn’t experiencing an alcohol-induced delusion. Mingjue was still puzzling over the encounter when the man returned.

“Hi,” he said again, his smile just as bright. He was looking expectantly at Mingjue.

Mingjue blinked. “Hi,” he managed to say. His throat felt incredibly dry. He took a large gulp of his drink.The burn of the alcohol did nothing to help his composure.

"What's your name? It wouldn't be polite for me to call you Handsome Stranger." The man's smile was so blinding, it took Mingjue a minute to understand what he'd just said.

He couldn’t let this opportunity pass. He gave the man a once-over to buy himself a little more recovery time - a mistake that only made it harder to think - then said gruffly, “I’m Nie Mingue.”

“My name is Lan Xichen, but you can call me yours.”

Mingjue downed the rest of his drink. What the fuck? The most beautiful man in the world was using a pick-up line? On him? How was he supposed to respond to that? Say something, he told himself, even if it’s stupid. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Impossibly, Lan Xichen’s smile got bigger. He looked over Mingjue’s shoulder and raised his hand in a thumbs-up gesture. Mingjue followed his gaze and found a pair of men watching them from a nearby table. One of them was beaming at them, returning Lan Xichen’s thumbs-up enthusiastically. The other man looked almost exactly like Lan Xichen, minus the bright smile. Was he glaring at Mingjue, or was that just his face?

“My brother and his boyfriend,” Lan Xichen said, drawing Mingjue’s attention back to him. “A-Xian has so many pick-up lines, so he gave me one for you!”

He was barely keeping up with what was happening, but he tried for an intelligent response. “That was nice of him.”

“Yes,” Lan Xichen nodded happily. “He was sad he doesn't get to use them anymore. He said I should get to have some fun with them, at least.”

A quick glance back at the other men showed one of them - the one he assumed was Lan Xichen’s brother - pulling the other up out of his seat. They wrapped their arms around each other and started swaying to music only they could hear. They certainly weren’t dancing to the music that was actually playing. Huaisang was standing nearby. He quickly fled when he noticed Mingjue looking at him. Mingjue’s eyes narrowed. What was Huaisang up to?

“Oh, Huaisang left again,” Lan Xichen said, sounding disappointed. “I have to thank him. He asked me to get him another drink, and that meant I could get a better look at you.” His eyes widened. “I forgot Huaisang’s drink!”

“I don’t think Huaisang will mind. I’m sure he’s had more than enough,” Mingjue said quickly. He had an idea what Huaisang was up to now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care this time. “How do you know him?”

“He’s A-Xian’s friend.” Lan Xichen’s brow furrowed in thought. “Or possibly a friend of a friend? I just met him last week, in this very club. It’s nice here! A bit loud though. So many people.” Lan Xichen looked around, taking in the dancing bodies that surrounded them. “Do you know Huaisang? Is he your boyfriend?” Lan Xichen’s smile dimmed, fading into a politely fake copy. Mingjue didn’t like it.

“He’s my brother.” He thought Lan Xichen might be a little drunk.

“That’s wonderful!” His true smile returning, Lan Xichen sat down on the stool next to him and leaned toward him. “Do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?”

“Neither.” Although if Lan Xichen was still interesting - and interested - when he was sober, Mingjue was willing to change that.

Lan Xichen pulled his phone out of his pocket. “We should exchange numbers!” He poked and swiped at the screen a few times before finally exclaiming, “Got it! Here.” He thrust the phone at Mingjue.

This probably wasn’t how things like this were supposed to go - who handed their phone to a complete stranger? - but Mingjue was done questioning anything Lan Xichen said or did tonight. He sent a text to himself and then saved his number in Lan Xichen’s contact list as ‘Nie Mingjue - Single’.

As soon as Lan Xichen took his phone back, he took a picture of himself with the same bright smile that had short-circuited Mingjue’s brain earlier. “So you don’t forget who I am,” Lan Xichen said as he tapped away on his phone. Mingjue’s own phone buzzed with a notification.

“No danger of that,” he said, but he was quick to take out his phone and save Lan Xichen’s number in his contacts.

“Now you send one to me!”

Mingjue did not like having his picture taken and he really did not like taking selfies, but he didn’t hesitate to do as Lan Xichen asked. He tried to remember everything Huaisang always insisted on explaining about taking selfies, getting a good angle and adequate lighting. He even managed a natural-looking smile.

Lan Xichen gasped softly at him, then again after he received the picture of Mingjue. “So handsome! I love your dimples!” He gazed at the picture a little longer, then tucked his phone away and hopped off the barstool. “We should dance!”

Before Mingjue could decide if his dislike of club dancing was strong enough to withstand Lan Xichen’s radiance - he was beginning to suspect he could deny this man nothing - they were interrupted.

“Xichen-ge.” It was the brother’s boyfriend, the one with the unused pick-up lines. “Lan Zhan needs to go home."

“Time to sleep.” The brother - Lan Zhan, apparently - did look sleepy, his eyes almost half-closed. He tugged at his boyfriend’s arm and tried to pull him away, swaying a bit as he did.

“Didi!” Lan Xichen swept his brother up into an enthusiastic hug.

Lan Zhan submitted to the embrace, laying his head on Lan Xichen’s shoulder and closing his eyes. “Wei Ying too,” he said.

“A-Xian!” Lan Xichen pulled his brother’s boyfriend into the hug. The boyfriend went along with it, shrugging when he caught Mingjue’s eye. He wrapped his arms around both brothers.

“Time for all good Lans to go home and go to bed,” the boyfriend - Wei Ying? A-Xian? - said.

“Do we have to go?” Was Lan Xichen… pouting?

“What about your uncle? He’ll blame me for corrupting your morals!” Wei Ying pouted right back at Lan Xichen. Nie Mingjue had to look away before he started laughing at their antics.

“No.” Lan Zhan jerked upright from his doze on Lan Xichen’s shoulder and grabbed Wei Ying’s hand. “I will protect you.”

“Very well,” Lan Xichen said, a hint of a pout still on his face. “We’ll go now. We won’t give shufu any more reason to be mad at you.” He turned the two young men around and began herding them away. Mingjue tried not to let Lan Xichen’s abrupt departure bother him. Not even a goodbye?

“The door is this way, Xichen-ge,” Wei Ying said, steering the unsteady trio in the right direction.

As they drifted past him once more, Lan Xichen noticed him and pulled them all to a halt. “Nie Mingjue!” he cried, as if seeing him again after a long period of time. That damn smile was back. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Maybe we can dance next time?” Mingjue nodded dumbly. “I’ll text you! Or you can text me! Okay?”

Mingjue nodded again. The whole evening had taken on a surreal feel and he was starting to doubt the whole thing had happened, even as it was still happening.

“I’ll remind him,” Wei Ying said, giving them a wide smile. Lan Zhan glared and stalked away, pulling Wei Ying along with him. “Bye!” Wei Ying called over his shoulder.

“Goodbye, Nie Mingjue! It was nice to meet you!” Lan Xichen reached out and touched his hand briefly, then hurried away after his two companions.

Mingjue flexed his hand. The spot where Lan Xichen had touched him tingled like they were in some sappy romance. Hauisang could never learn of this.

As if summoned by the thought, Huaisang appeared at his side.

“Wei Wuxian was right, those Lans cannot hold their liquor. I think they had less than half a glass of beer between the two of them.” Hauisang tapped his chin with his fan.

“Wei Wuxian?”

“My new bestie. He was just here - the one wearing black.” Huaisang smiled brightly. “He’s fun.”

Wei Ying - Wei Wuxian, that explained why Lan Xichen called him A-Xian - had been wearing black, while Lan Zhan wore clothing similar to his brother. “I see. We weren’t properly introduced.”

“Wei Wuxian isn’t a proper introduction sort of person, he won’t care. Now Lan Xichen.” Huaisang went back to tapping his chin. “Lan Xichen is definitely a proper introduction sort of person, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes.” His brother was definitely up to something. “He did properly introduce himself, which is why I even know who you are talking about right now.”

“He really is a delicious looking man, isn’t he? And he’s so nice. Definitely boyfriend material.”

Mingjue didn’t answer. Was Huaisang interested in Lan Xichen? Lan Xichen had just been hitting on Mingjue. He should tell Huaisang, let him down gently before he got invested, but that still very firmly put Lan Xichen out of Mingjue’s reach. Bro code or whatever, there was no way Mingjue would hurt Huaisang like that. Maybe in a few years, after Huaisang had moved on? Who was he kidding, there was no way someone like Lan Xichen would stay single that long.

Huaisang smacked him on the arm with his fan. “Silly da-ge, for you, not me! He’s not my type.”

Since Huaisang said that about every person ever, Mingjue wasn’t sure what his brother’s type was. Did he even have a type? Would he tell Mingjue if he did? He wished Huaisang didn’t feel like he had to protect Mingjue from whatever it was he thought he was protecting him from. Who was the big brother around here?

...wait.

“For me?”

“Why do you think I sent him over here?”

Mingjue did not know how to feel about that. Grateful for the roundabout introduction? Irritated at the meddling? Overwhelming love for his sneaky little brother? “I can manage my own affairs,” he finally grumbled.

“Of course you can,” Huaisang said with a soothing pat on his shoulder. “Buy me a drink, da-ge. Lan Xichen never brought the one I asked for.”

“You’ve had enough.”

“But da-geeeee-”

Mingjue ignored his brother’s whining - he had a lot of practice at it. Even Huaisang draping himself over his back and complaining directly in his ear could not change his mind. If Huaisang really wanted a drink, he could get his own.

His phone chimed a text notification at him. Lan Xichen was already texting him.

Our Lyft driver has such a nice car!!!

The text was accompanied by a slightly out of focus picture of a smiling Lan Xichen sitting in the back seat of a vehicle, with the top of his brother's head just visible on his shoulder. Very little of the car was showing.

Mingjue didn't bother to respond, but he couldn't help the fond smile that crossed his face. If this was Lan Xichen drunk, he couldn't wait to see what he was like sober. He was about to put his phone away when Huaisang grabbed it out of his hand.

"What's this?" Huaisang opened up the text app and stared at his most recent text. "You set his contact name as 'Yours'? Da-ge!"

Mingjue took his phone back and put it in his pocket. "What? He said I could."

#always end on a punch line right?#nielan #pre-nielan #if you want to be precise #drunk lxc #are common fandom tropes present?#i sure hope so #why is posting fic in a new fandom always so nerve wracking

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lord-rosenth0rne · 5 years ago

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Just thoughts and a bit of a rant on recent events.

You can skip this if you want. I just need to get it out and don’t plan on making a discussion out of it. “You” does not refer to the reader, just to people who have done what they did. I did that on purpose. I promise that every post from here on will be pleasant and unrelated to personal crap.

LONG post under cut.

You know, I have been through a lot with my mother. Growing up, I knew she did not like me and there were a couple of instances where she did things she shouldn’t have done. I was the black sheep, something people tend to forget and what I went through, they pretended it happened to them to fuel their agendas. Half the time I wonder if they actually believe they’ve been abused by her or have taken abuse from someone they’ve dated and imposed it on her because I seriously think that is the issue in one case. Interestingly enough, all three of them were the ‘can do no wrong’ Golden Child at one point or another and one of them got very jealous when the spotlight was not on her. How easily that is forgotten. They feed on drama and like the whole ‘my abusive parent has forsaken me’ angle.

Anyway, Mom’s grown out of a lot of it, become pretty lax about life over the years and has apologized to me for what she’s done. It happened out of the blue one day and caught me completely off guard but it was a nice surprise. I have chosen to forgive her. She also went onto explain that she really did not know how to handle me as I was noticeably different than the others. I was not the girly girl she was hoping for, I had a lot of anger in me, and I did not have the same interests as her and my siblings. I will admit, I was a difficult child and a lot of the memories I had do reflect what she’s told me. She still makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs at times and drives me up a wall to the point I just want to leave but if someone was to go and hurt her intentionally, I will go feral.

I don’t care what she’s done to me and if I have forgiven her, that’s my choice. I cannot stand hearing that woman cry. It unlocks something in me that makes me want to destroy the cause of it. Bringing up my past with her to justify your actions against her and telling me I’m wrong to forgive her will make things worse for you. Only those who are in my inner circle are allowed to talk about it without me getting angry. Anyone outside of that circle will be told off. You need to have a damn good reason to make my mother cry. So far, I have been offered none since a lot of the reasons were built on lies and deceit that certain people don’t realize I know or forget I was present.

Recently, this week actually, someone told a very hurtful, disgusting lie to get their way, claiming my mother threatened them and they were in ‘fear for their life with their unborn child’. That lie spread to people who want to see my mother hurt due to what they’ve done to her in the past and they quickly took that someone’s side. That someone did not realize that I was home during the event they claimed and had witnessed what they did which caused me to come forward with what really happened; Golden Child bit the hand that fed her when she was told no and do something she didn’t want to do. Also, this person is pregnant and Mom was extremely excited for a grandbaby she could actually see and hold. There was no way in hell she would have threatened her.

I also found out that this person was lying to several others. There are harmless little lies that one can tell and no one would be any the wiser. Those are told on a daily basis and mean no harm. We all do it. Then there are lies that could actually protect or save people and could be tolerated, within reason of course. I’m not that unreasonable since different situations will have varying circumstances. However, these were neither. These were tailored to hurt Mom and a severe game-changer that could potentially hurt others if they go on long enough, lies that should have never been started in the first place. They were lies to fulfill a very selfish agenda that now have a very high chance of backfiring. It was going to do so maybe later down the line but it might happen sooner now. I absolutely cannot tolerate these.

When I rectified this by going to the people who had a right to know, I was descended upon by all three Golden Children who want to see my mother hurt. I was told to ‘step off’, that it was ‘none of my business’, and to ‘stay out of their lives’. These people don’t live anywhere near us but think they know everything they need to know about what’s going on. They don’t care that I witnessed what was going and yes, it was my business that the truth got out. It is my business if someone is blatantly hurting my mother. I was not backing down. I was not going to apologize for what I had done. I feel no regret or remorse for those who had started the lies to begin with. In fact, those who supported the liar despite knowing that the accusations were lies are now disowned by me. One actually tried making the entire situation about herself and she lives states away. The fucking audacity, I swear!

I am deeply sickened by the people who thought I should have kept my mouth shut. They cannot be trusted and I feel sorry for anyone who comes in contact with them. They have done so much to hurt others in their short lives that they shouldn’t be allowed in relationships or have kids if I’m honest. They want to point fingers at my mother for past transgressions? What exactly are you doing to the people around you now that makes you any better? One thing I am extremely proud of is I have NEVER gone out of my way to hurt anyone the way they have. I don’t believe in those kinds of lies, I don’t believe in cheating, I heavily believe in Karma which I know is going to be a complete bitch when it hits, I don’t do this sort of shit and they cannot pin anything against me like I can them. Most of the conversations were them stating the obvious about me, thinking they were insults or I was supposed to be ashamed about still living at home. Was that supposed to hurt me? You have meant very little to me over the past couple of years. Even if you had something I was ashamed about, did you think it coming from you would hurt me?

Well, I guess once they realized I wasn’t backing down or out, and/or realized that me being the black sheep for my entire life has given me the advantage of gathering incriminating information that could cause them grief (I honestly have no intentions of airing their dirty laundry unless they decide to do something drastic), they blocked me and it’s safe to say they won’t be coming back even if they want to. I know at least one of them is going to come back to try to talk to me as if nothing has happened but it’s too late. The lack of communication I’ve dealt with and could deal with since we could pick up at any time (I’m not that great with keeping connections with people who don’t live nearby minus part of my inner circle), but the harmful intent is what I cannot forgive. They ‘can’t forgive me’ for telling people who have the right to know certain truths? I can’t forgive them for being horrible people who want to make others as miserable as they are. Mom, at least, apologized for her past and did her best to change. They have not done so for theirs and it will be held against them from now on. They either ignore what they’ve done or pretended it didn’t happen.

What these idiots do not realize that if someone had done this to them, I more than likely would have done the same damn thing for them. It’s one of those situations where NO ONE should go through. Needless to say, they can go back to their miserable little lives and enjoy estrangement. They are not allowed to contact me under any circumstances unless someone has died. I have my family now and I’m very happy with it.

Though, I want them to try to explain their side of the estrangement to people or why they’ve blocked me. “Oh, she told the truth about what was going on to the right people and it was not right. She should have stayed out of it.” Yeah. Says a lot about your character. Being offended by the truth might be a sign that you need to take a long hard look at yourself and ask WHY you were offended. I just hope they’re happy with their choices and the fact they caused Mom to step back and rethink some things that they may not like to find out. That’s what lying gets you.

What I did was in no way revenge for anything. It was something that was promised to be done weeks ago and was neglected which meant another broken promise. You can hate me for it all you want but I did the right thing. I cannot say the same for you. I am not ashamed of it and I do not regret it. You ‘cannot forgive me’ for it? I cannot forgive you for harming others and trust me. I’m detached enough as it is. What you did was a death sentence with not only my trust but the potential to be forgiven and reunited. I want absolutely nothing to do with you. You’ll be lucky it hasn’t done the same for Mom.

#just a rant #Will leave this up as a reminder #'you' does not mean the reader #you can ignore this

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 5 years ago

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The French Connection - Chapter 6

A HardyxMiller AU

Ellie Miller is left to go on her honeymoon alone after a devastating secret about her fiance comes to light - halfway through the wedding ceremony. Sitting in St Pancras International in London waiting for her train, she runs into none other than her uni rival/best friend Alec Hardy, on the run from his own recent heartbreak.

They decide to make use of Ellie’s pre-paid trip, rekindling their friendship and escaping real life; yet, it turns out their years at uni are the hardest to outrun. Based on this prompt from @timepetalscollective

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday and Sunday. Beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma

Masterlist | AO3

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“Ellie.”

The soft whisper of her name stirred her, making her whimper and hide her face in her pillow. It was soft, warm, and altogether heavenly; she didn’t want to get up.

“Ellie, we’re here.”

She grunted, swatting halfheartedly in the direction of the voice, wondering dimly why her pillow was speaking. This is the strangest dream I’ve ever had.

“Miller!”

Eyes snapping open she bolted upright, blinking rapidly as she tried to take in her surroundings. She was seated on an empty coach, against the window, alone but for Hardy who sat next to her – worryingly in the direction she’d just leaned away from. Was I asleep on him?

“Wha’?”

He stood, settling his hands on his hips as he waited for her. “We’re here,” he repeated. “Time to get off the bus.”

“Did I sleep the whole way?” She rose as well, turning her back for a moment to discreetly wipe at her mouth, grimacing at the crusted drool before sliding her purse over her shoulder. “Sorry.”

“S’all right.” Stepping back he let her lead the way off the bus, alighting onto a sandy carpark where dozens of other tour buses were parked, a steady stream of people walking past.

They fell into step, Hardy gently guiding her towards a vaguely-familiar looking woman wearing a fashionable scarf and holding a clipboard. She gave them a severe look as they joined the rest of the group, before beginning to speak.

“Bienvenue a Versailles. Originally a modest hunting lodge built by Louis Thirteen, he and his successors through Louis Sixteen built it up to what you see today, when the family lost it during the Revolution. What you see in front of you is le Cour d’Honneur, or the Royal Court. Then we will pass through the Gate of Honor, where we will meet our guide. Please, follow me.”

Eyes wide Ellie followed the group, breathless as she stared at the gates. The fence along them was gold, shining brilliantly in the morning sun. It would be imposing on its own, were it not for the gate itself, double the height and topped with beautiful scrollwork and, at the highest point, a crown.

“This is beautiful,” Ellie whispered to Hardy as they crossed in front towards the entrance. “I’m so happy I’m here.”

When she tore her eyes away to glance at him, he was smiling softly. “I’m glad. C’mon.”

“Oh, wow,” Ellie murmured, as they stepped out of the Palace into the gardens.

Hardy hid a smile by fussing with his sunglasses, situating them firmly on his nose to combat the bright sun. She’d been saying some variation of that for the last hour, all through the tour of the Palace. Even he had to admit that it was, maybe, somewhat impressive, despite his thoroughly-Scottish Presbyterian austerity. Of course, it’s no surprise they went bankrupt. “We’ve got an hour before we’re to be back at the bus – what d’you want to do?”

“Can we walk through the gardens?” She turned to him, smiling hopefully as if he might actually say no.

“If you like,” was all he said, waiting patiently while she pulled out her own sunnies and fussed with her camera. “Ready?”

They headed straight, and he let her choose the path, listening with one ear as she chattered on, recapping the tour as though he hadn’t been beside her the entire time, highlighting the parts she’d liked best.

“-oh, but that bedroom! Can you imagine? And who could possibly need all that staff! I mean, I wouldn’t turn down someone to do the cooking and cleaning, I’ll admit, and I suppose it’d be nice to have someone else do the laundry, but still! How do you live like that and take yourself seriously? Did they honestly believe that they had been chosen to be treated like gods, that they were so much better than anyone else? Not to mention-”

“Where are we going?” he cut her off, as they angled off past the third pond. “I mean, d’you have a direction in mind? Because if it’s a stroll to take in the gardens you’re after…” He gestured vaguely.

Ellie blinked at him before glancing around. “It’s nice,” she shrugged, “but actually, I was heading for le Petit Trianon. It was Marie Antoinette’s bolthole when court pressures got to be too much.”

He stopped dead to stare at her, before shaking his head and sighing. “It must’ve been very hard to be Queen of France.”

“Oh, don’t be an arse.”

“What?” he protested, as they continued down the tree-lined path towards the mansion appearing in the distance. “I’m just saying, not exactly like she had to work for a living!”

Ellie scoffed. “Clearly you were never a teenage girl, because if you had been, you would not be saying that. D’you know how vicious women can be?”

“You kidding me?”

“No, I’m not kidding! She was under tremendous pressure to be perfect. The other women at Court expected her to have the best of everything, the latest of everything, while the average citizen saw her as an unapologetic spender, wasting money on clothing and parties while they starved. She was a victim of the French court, and it cost her her life! It’s easy for men, the expectations of them are minimal at best, but women are expected to be happy and light, a perfect hostess… witty but not too smart, knowledgeable without knowing more than the man she’s talking to, loyal and obedient to someone who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about her dignity or reputation! We’re supposed to just forgive any transgression, no matter how big, any humiliation or belittlement and just take it with a smile! It’s utter bullshit, it’s a ridiculous standard, and it’s not fair!”

Hardy stared at her, taken aback. Her chest heaved, eyes leaking tears, her expression heartbreakingly lost and small. This isn’t about Marie Antoinette, he realized, watching her lower lip tremble. “I’m sorry, Miller,” he said quietly, sighing. “You’re right, it’s not.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she warned, wiping angrily at her cheeks. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” he rolled his eyes, before checking his watch. “Now, we’ve got forty minutes, and it’ll take most of that to get back to the bus. Let’s go see her hideaway, then get back to the group – I don’t fancy being left behind.”

“My father used to have affairs,” Hardy said apropos of nothing, making Ellie’s gaze snap towards him.

They were seated on a riverboat, the last leg of the tour being a boat ride up the Seine, getting on at Sèvres and sailing up towards the disembarkation point near the Musée d'Orsay, which was only a few blocks from their hotel. They’d claimed spots at the very back of the boat, and given the light load of the group, were practically alone, most people congregating at the front.

Ellie had been lost in her thoughts, wondering about any deeper symbolism in her desire to look back at where they’d been rather than forward towards where they were going.

“What?”

“My father,” he repeated, staring determinedly out the back window, “constantly made a fool of my mum. She always tolerated it, looked the other way, and I’m sorry to say I always thought less of her for that. That she should’ve gotten out when she could, that she shouldn’t have let him put her- put us through that.”

She tilted her head, trying to wrap her head around her words even as she marveled at his openness; he’d never discussed his home life before. “I imagine she had no easy choices,” she said diplomatically.

“My point is,” Hardy sighed, glancing her way, “that I’ve seen what happens when a woman just takes what her husband gives her-” his face tightened, suggesting things Ellie didn’t want to unpack at that particular moment, “that it will destroy her. If your family’s upset in the moment, that’s one thing, but don’t let them carry on too long about if you should’ve handled it differently. You have to take care of you – your ex isn’t your responsibility. If they try to tell you to make it work with him once you get back, tell them to get fucked.”

“They’re the only family I’ve got,” Ellie scoffed wryly, shaking her head. “I mean, I won’t have anything to do with him, but not sure I can get them to stop talking about it.”

He shifted on the bench to face her, pushing up his sunglasses in a surprising display of vulnerability. “Ellie. If they’re more concerned about him than they are about you, they’re not worth your time and effort. Hell, I’ll be your family if you want, or whatever. Just… don’t let them carry on about it. The one time my mum tried to leave, tried to get me away from him, her family made us go back. I never forgave them for it.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered, looking down at her hands. “That’s an awful thing to have happened. Thank you for… trusting me with that, I suppose.”

“She was like you, far as I can remember, when I was little. Bright and cheerful, always looking at the silver lining. And over time, he and her family dulled the sparkle until nothing was left. You have to make you a priority, because you can’t trust anyone else will.”

“Thank you.”

Her mobile rang while they were relaxing before dinner, the screen lighting up in time to the jaunty tune it played, vibrating on the desk.

Ellie grimaced, staring down at it. “Unknown number. What d’you think?” She was seated at the desk, inches from the device, but made no move to reach for it.

Hardy shrugged, sitting up from where he’d been sprawled on the bed flipping channels on the telly. “Send it to voicemail? Could it be work?”

With a grimace she answered it, holding it to her ear. “This is Miller.” Almost instantly the blood drained from her face, hand shaking, and his gut knew who was on the other end of the line.

Springing off the bed he eased the mobile from her hand and put it to his own ear, barking, “What?”

“Who’s this?” a confused man’s voice came to him, and Hardy bared his teeth.

“Alec Hardy, I’m a friend of Ellie’s. Who’s this?”

“Joe Richards, her fiancé. Can I speak to Ellie, please?” He said tersely, rather rudely Hardy thought for someone charged with child pornography.

Hardy raised an eyebrow at Ellie, who shook her head violently. “No. In fact, she’d prefer to never hear from you again.” That got him a double thumbs up. “I strongly advise you never contact her- or her family- ever again.”

A pause on the line had him waiting with bated breath, and when the other man spoke, his words were entirely unexpected.

“Did you say Hardy? As in her uni boyfriend?”

Boyfriend? “Uh, yeah, that’s me.” Despite the situation, the corners of his mouth tugged upward, earning himself a confused glare from Ellie. “What’s it to you?”

“Now listen here, prick, Ellie is my fiancée, and as soon as I beat these charges-”

“If such a gross miscarriage of justice were to occur,” he cut Joe off, “you will leave- wherever it is Ellie lives, and you will run as far away as possible. Just know that no matter how far you do go, it will never be far enough, and you will always be watched to ensure you harm no one. Do you understand?”

After a moment, the line went dead, his face tightening as it occurred to him that he might have overstepped. Handing the mobile back to Ellie, it took all he had not to flinch when she pushed back from the desk and stood.

She stared at him, eyes searching his, and he held his breath, waiting for a verdict.

“Thank you,” was all she said, before closing the distance between them and throwing her arms around his waist, holding him tightly and resting her face against his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Slowly, scared she might bolt if he moved to fast, he returned the hug and held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “So am I.” It was nice, having her in his arms, and he felt a vise in his chest loosen.

I don’t want this trip to end.

#bbatcfic #broadfic #Broadchurch #HardyxMiller #Alec Hardy #Ellie Miller #AU #The French Connection #platonic honeymoon fic

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shanastoryteller · 7 years ago

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she is an angel’s daughter

can we just. can we talk about how clary called for ithuriel, and he came, and she averted her eyes and said, scared, that she understood if he was angry at her, that she understood if he found her presumptuous and rude. she stood in front of him prepared that he might lash out and hurt her, or worse.

and ithuriel sighed and said, soft, that she had nothing to worry about. he answered her questions, came when she called when he didn’t have to, and – and i know i’ve talked about this before, but i think angles like clary fairchild, clarissa morgenstern, i think they look at her and see something of themselves – maybe not all their good traits, but their traits none the less.

and it got me thinking – what about a world where clary is more, is different, is the daughter of an angel? ithuriel considers her his in a way didn’t even know he was capable of. jace has angel blood too, but ithuriel doesn’t send him visions, doesn’t share forgotten runes with him, doesn’t call out and answers his calls in return. that is reserved for clary alone.

so valentine traps ithuriel and takes his blood to give to jace’s mother, right, and that does something, changes things of course. but it’s blood forcibly taken. but the second time valentine comes to take his blood for an unborn child, for his unborn child, well – ithuriel knows that valentine’s eldest child was cursed with the blood of a great demon, willingly given. so ithuriel, who’s bound and powerless in so many ways, does this: when valentine takes his blood, he doesn’t fight, he doesn’t resent, he holds no anger in his heart. valentine doesn’t notice the difference, but ithuriel gives his blood freely to the child growing under jocelyn’s heart, and it matters.

his consent changes it, his will changes it. his blood in her veins is different than it is in the other child’s. with her, it’s a claim, a mark of power, it’s something more and different and something that hasn’t been done in a long, long time.

clary shines just a little brighter than all those around her, because she’s an angel’s daughter, because ithuriel has claimed her, because she’s no normal girl, will not even be a normal shadowhunter.

she grows up, ignorant just like before, but it’s hard. angels notice her, and clary so often sees things that aren’t there, even more than a normal shadowhunter child. other angels take notice of her, of this little human girl who shines like she’s one of them, and clary could walk blind into traffic and never get hit, because she has angels watching her, she really does have guardian angels in a way that no one else does. they can’t find ithuriel, can’t free him because he’s so well hidden. but ithuriel’s mark is on this girl, his blood is in this girl, and she is someone they can protect.

they disapprove of jocelyn taking clary’s memories, but they do not interfere. magnus feels that she is different, but chalks it up to her being the daughter of two powerful shadowhunters, and doesn’t think on it further.

when clary gets pulled into the shadow world, there’s a reason everyone feels drawn to her, a reason so many people can’t help but listen to her and believe in her. she speaks with divine purpose, pulls at the heart strings of shadowhunter and downworlder alike. i've talked about clary’s hard line with morality combined with her ability to forgive almost any transgression against her before, and it should be contradictory, but it isn’t, it makes perfect sense when she’s an angel’s daughter, when she shares their strange almost-but-not-quite hypocritical world view. clary doesn’t revere angels. she understands them too well.

when runes come to her, when ithuriel sends her runes, they’re ones no one else could use. other shadowhunters can’t use the runes that clary uses, she alone can wield them – because they are angelic runes, ones only someone with angel blood can wield. jace is affected by his angel blood, of course, but it’s not that overt, that powerful. it’s side affects, things that couldn’t be helped. but with clary she was chosen and she is loved and ithuriel’s blood in her veins means something different entirely.

things progress as normal, it doesn’t change much or become relevant, until – she and isabelle go and visit the iron sisters. isabelle thinks she has demon blood still, and something in clary rankles at the insinuation, at the idea of it. she goes into the water, and the iron sisters test to see if she’s pure, if she’s angelic enough to be let inside the iron gates.

she doesn’t just glow.

clary shines so brightly they have to avert their eyes, for the iron sisters it almost feels like when they summon an angel, the force of clary’s presence in the pool.

clary doesn’t know any better, doesn’t see what’s wrong, but everyone looks at her differently. after, the iron sisters support clary unquestioningly, they don’t know exactly what she is, but she’s not like the rest of them. they don’t make a show of it, don’t alert the clave to their changed allegiances. but the iron sisters know, they’ve decided, then when clary calls for them, they will answer. whether she needs weapons or warriors or advice, the iron sisters will be there. their first loyalty is to angels, not the clave, so now their first loyalty is to her.

so when ithuriel calls out to clary, this girl he’s had a connection to her whole life but has never even seen? she does the same thing, she doesn’t know him or what she is to him, but he’s an angel so she risks everything to free him. and jace is there, and helps and somehow it gets across that jace doesn’t have demon blood, he has angel blood too. but it’s not the same as clary, because then ithuriel raises his cracked and bleeding hands to clary’s face, and in her and around her all once she hears, my child, my daughter, oh how you’ve grown.

and clary is crying, because ithuriel loves her. valentine’s offer of paternal love had almost been appealing, a parent to hold on to after her mother’s death, but now – she knows the warm light of ithuriel’s affections, and she clings to his arms and presses her forehead against his and whispers, “go” and “be safe” and “thank you”

jace is freaking out, because she’s touching an angel, is being embraced by an angel, and what is clary, exactly? his touch should be burning, it should be too much for a mortal to stand now that he’s out of those power suppressing chains. ithuriel goes free, and clary – settles, somewhat. she knows who she is, she knows what she is, all those little things her whole life that never made sense, both as a mundane and a shadowhunter, suddenly do. she’s not valentine’s daughter, not really. she’s ithuriel’s.

jace doesn’t tell anyone what he saw, not really, he says what happened but he doesn’t mention ithuriel’s touch, how clary glowed while she stood in front of the angel. he goes to alec’s room late at night and whispers under the cover of darkness what he thinks clary is, wide eyed and afraid, because he thought he wasn’t good enough for clary before, and now this? alec doesn’t quite believe him, says maybe clary just has more angel blood than jace does, but – he can’t explain it, the way ithuriel had looked at clary.

she doesn’t say anything, because what will it prove, what will it change? nothing at all. clary doesn’t quite understand what angels mean to shadowhunters, not yet. they’ve always seemed too familiar to her for her to worship them.

she hears ithuriel now, at the corner of her mind sometimes, a soft glowing presence that strengthens as he does. clary fairchild shines brighter than any mortal, and somehow no one seems notice. they call her charismatic, charming, a nuisance, a silly girl who will lead them to war. they call her many things, but no one can deny one thing: she is certainly compelling.

her light rune isn’t sunlight, it’s holy light, she is a girl who wields heaven’s light like a sword, and people can’t help but be drawn to her. she is young, and imperfect, but she is shining.

they’re tricked into the institute with the soul sword, the sword of truth, and clary has been trying so hard to avoid it that she hasn’t been listening to it. it’s a mortal instrument, and there she is, half angel, half shadowhunter, and it’s calling out to her, it’s whispering things out to her that she wishes she’d heard before.

clary runs across the battle, to the center of the institute, and picks up the sword. her angelic touch changes it, charges it, and it becomes a weapon of mass destruction in her hands. everyone freezes, and jace scream at her, but clary only smiles and raises the sword and calls out, “father!”

and for a moment valentine thinks all his dreams have come true, that his daughter is on his side and there for him. but he’s not clary’s father.

ithuriel is.

the whole institute shakes with power, and everyone is driven to their knees by a force they can’t explain. clary is there holding the soul sword, and everyone thinks this is the end, the downworlders prepare themselves for death at hands of the girl they thought cared about them.

but it’s not the soul sword.

ithuriel appears, an angel appears within the institute, and the shadowhunters look on in awe, in disbelief. he is full of light, and had a cloak of power around him. “clary,” he says, and he’s soft, he’s smiling.

she doesn’t hesitate, she runs forward, stops just a few inches from him. he’s the one that closes the space between them, leans down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. she steps back, satisfied, and holds up the sword. “this is too dangerous. we don’t need it anymore – there are too many downworlders now, too many for us to protect from the effects of this sword. you have to get rid of it.”

ithuriel cups the side of clary’s face, rubbing a thumb against her cheek, and says, “if that is your desire, my child, then act. you have within you all the power you need.”

he’s gone in the next moment, and she doesn’t understand, but then a rune comes to mind, one she’s never used before. she takes out her stele and carves it into the sword, does what a normal shadowhunter wouldn’t be able to do, and alters a mortal instrument with a single rune.

“no!” valentine croaks out, and clary glances at him, irritated, and twists and turns and lets the blade fly.

the sword hits true. it slides through valentine’s chest, straight through his heart. he’s dead before he hits the ground. the downworlders watching this girl, this shadowhunter, this angel’s daughter, use the sword that was meant to kill them to kill their greatest enemy, watches her kill her birth father to keep them safe.

clary has made a stand, has done more than make a spark, has started a revolution that’s already burning bright.

the angel’s daughter stands with the downworld, with fairness, with equality, with justice. the angel’s daughter stands tall, and she will not bend.

#fandom ficcery #shadowhunters #clary fairchild #clary fray #clarissa morgenstern #ithuriel #i hope they didn't actually kill ithuriel because if so l a m e #there was so much potential there #mmmm i just like the idea of ithuriel and clary being best buds #that's a seperate fic #one where ithuriel doesn't see clary as his daughter #but one where they basically have eachother on speed dial and shit talk and hang out #and everyones like ????#you can't just chill with an angel wtf #and clary does it anyway because she doesn't give a fuck

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