#not alastair's arm around thomas's neck

[vwritesaus]

THEY KISSED—

hehehe they kissed 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[edwinspaynes]

the nature of love

Love is complex. It's a convoluted, messy web, and no one knew that like the girl with the second clockwork heart. With clever eyes as gray as her name, she looked on at those around her scrambling to grasp love's straws between world-weary fingers, trapped in a spiderweb of her own that tore her heart into two evenly-broken parts.

But love was also devastatingly simple.

She sat on the couch with her husband, meeting his bright laugh and blue gaze with a smile as he looked down at her. Her head rested against his shoulder, the stubble on his face scratchy and comforting against her skin, and suddenly she was overwhelmed by raw emotion. His warmth, his smile, his silly songs and ridiculous notions. Everything that made him Will was the perfect mesh for everything that made her Tessa, azure and slate paints stirred into the hue of a stormy sky.

She couldn't help herself. She kissed his shoulder.

-

Tessa Gray-eyes-and-painfully-real-emotions was not the only one who understood the devastatingly easy affection of a shoulder kiss. Her son did, too. He sat across from his wife in front of a chess board, her blazing red hair framing her shoulders in thick curls, her kind but capable mouth twisted into an expression of contemplation. She reached out one elegant hand to move her pawn before his king, and he realized with a daunting feeling that those lips were shaping the words "checkmate."

The light gleamed off the golden globe necklace around her neck, and James Herondale thought in that moment that no one could ever be as blazing as his brave Cordelia, the woman who could slay armies with nothing more than a pawn.

So he stood up to get her more chai from their kitchen, placing a hand on one of her silk-cloaked shoulders as he moved around her. When she turned to giggle, he placed a quick but heartbreaking kiss on her breathtaking shoulder.

-

Sometimes, though, a shoulder kiss could breathe life into another. Across London, Cordelia's brother sat before a fire with his arm intertwined around his partner's, his hamsar-am's, his breath's. The fire crackled in both dark brown and hazel irises as they quipped over the film reviews between the newspaper's black-and-white lines.

Alastair, whose inkstained fingers were getting smudges onto Thomas's arm, insisted that the ridiculous columnist simply did not see the vision of the story; Thomas, who noticed the smudges but accepted them with grace, listened to the animated brushstrokes of his voice speak in the bright, colorful hues that a film reel could not yet capture.

He spoke deeply; he spoke with feeling. There was passion there, but Thomas's heart was calm as he leaned down and kissed Alastair's shoulder with an almost devastating gentleness.

With that tenderness, Alastair stopped quibbling. Instead, he exhaled, at peace with both hands now resting on Thomas's.

-

Shoulder kisses were for both children and their parents, and somewhere far, far away, Thomas's mother was getting one of her own. Sophie Lightwood slept peacefully in bed, her head resting on her husband's lap as he stuck his finger in the raspberry jam on his plate. He did not like scones, never had, but he enjoyed the sweetness of the jelly as he brought it to his mouth. The explosion of flavor was a confection, a conglomeration, as complex as the idea of love was.

But Sophie slept on, and love felt easy. Love felt like peace. Much like it did for his son, love felt like home to Gideon Lightwood.

So he set the jam aside on his nightstand. He lay down beside his wife and reached out to pull her in close with still-sticky fingers. And he pressed a kiss to her shoulder before falling asleep with his face resting there, quietly and quickly, asleep but alive in all the ways that mattered.

-

But shoulder kisses were not only for the living.

There was a girl, once, who tried hard to forget her name, the name that her mother had told her in a hard voice between harder slaps. That monster of a woman was gone now, but she still could not get it out of her mind.

Now, she sat before a lab table, mixing chemicals and starting the fires that her love had once adored so. Sometimes, if she got a formulation perfectly, she would hear the name that she only loved on Christopher Lightwood's lips: Grace.

Sometimes, when an experiment went perfectly, she could feel the ghost of soft pressure on her shoulder. And somehow, she knew that he was there. That she was not alone, and that she was not a monster.

-

And some people did not even need another to give them the love that lay in a shoulder kiss. A boy with golden hair sat somewhere in South America, his arms wrapped around a mug of black coffee and his elbows resting on a copy of Dorian Gray. But he was not paying attention to any of that; he sipped idly, watching the people go by in their colorful clothes, with their bright personalities.

Hand-in-hand. Arm-in-arm. Love was simple for them in a way that it had never been for Matthew, who had felt it as bitter as his coffee.

But loving himself had proven a simple challenge that he had not foreseen conquering, so when no one was looking, he pressed his fingers to his lips and tapped the pads in the shoulders of his brocade jacket.

-

Many years later, Tessa Gray-skies-but-the-sun-is-coming-out did the same thing. Matthew was long gone by then, in America or China or South Africa, and her beloved Will had gone to the place where memories were silent.

She had thought there would be no more shoulder kisses, but love in all of its simplicity was also complex.

One day, it would all come back to her.

And eventually, decades later she sat on the couch of a massive manor house, one that had known many shoulder kisses from when Thomas and Alastair had made their home there. And her second husband would smile as she rocked their daughter, and he would walk over to her. "Wo ai ni," Jem Carstairs would whisper to both of them, his rune-scarred cheeks pulled upward into a smile and his dark eyes danced with life.

He leaned down and kissed Tessa's shoulder.

He kissed Mina's, and Tessa's heart melted.

Because love was not temporary. Love was not an ephemeral thing meant only to last one lifetime. It binds us through the ages, a pulse that beats after all other pulses stop.

Love, in all of its complexities, is the best thing we do.

@themimsyborogove, thanks for ruining me with that shoulder kiss post!

[starrieshq]

The Great Coming Out [Heronchild]

inspired by @heronchildlove

Enjoy!

James had just managed to kick his pants off and into the corner when his parents decided to walk in.

Matthew immediately slammed the door in their faces, his face flushing several shades darker.

“Oh!” He could hear Tessa exclaim.

“Erm, we’re sorry.” Will called through the wall. After a moment, the two heard pairs of feet head away and down the stairs.

James' heart hammered in his chest, breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself down. They were bound to find out eventually, but they hadn’t told them yet. Under other circumstances, maybe he would have, but as James turned and looked at Matthew, he saw his face in his hands, his shoulders slightly shaking.

7 months. They had kept it a secret for seven months. Of course, they hadn’t been the most discreet.

Multiple times now, Thomas and Alastair had caught them making out in the training room. Lucie found them in the library, Anna was in Matthew’s flat when it happened, Christopher had seen them in the club room, and even Charles knew about them.

“They know.” Matthew said quietly.

James sat next to him and reached out to embrace him. Matthew leaned in, and James buried his head into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of sandalwood. His arms went around James’s waist, and he could feel Matthew’s rapid heartbeat against his chest.

After several moments, James stood up.

“We should probably go talk to them.” He said.

Matthew sighed.

“Just as it was getting good.”

James chuckled, as they put on their discarded clothes.

As he buttoned up his shirt, he thought about his parent’s reaction to him and Matthew. He wasn’t too worried about whether they were supportive or not, as they had been some of the first people to openly support Thomas and Alastair’s relationship.

He just didn’t want them to see him differently. Sometimes felt that if they had known about this part of him, the part that deep down knew why he hadn’t fallen in love with Grace or Cordelia, the part of him where he knew in his heart that he could never truly love a woman.

But this wasn’t a part that was new. It was a part that was a secret. Until now, that was.

James glanced over at Matthew, who was lacing his shoes. His gaze lingered on him, taking in the messy hair, the rumpled appearance. The figure was indeed Matthew Fairchild, but he knew that Matthew would be mortified if anyone else but James saw him in a state such as this, anything less than perfectly coiffed.

Matthew turned around and saw him looking, and smiled.

“Couldn’t look away?” He asked teasingly.

“Not even if I tried.” He answered truthfully.

Matthew grinned, but not without his face flushing slightly at the compliment.

After several minutes of affirmations and deep breaths, James and Matthew began to make their way downstairs.

They found Tessa and Will in the drawing room, having tea, Tessa looking content and rather slightly smug whilst Will looked utterly perplexed.

“Yes, I understand that.” Will protested. “But how could they think that we wouldn’t notice them missing for well over two hours?”

James cleared his throat.

His parents spun around and saw them.

“Why hello, my son.” Will greeted him. “Hello, Matthew.”

Matthew had the grace to look slightly ashamed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Herondale, I wa-”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Tessa said firmly.

Matthew lapsed into silence, but only for a moment.

“What?” He asked.

Tessa gestured to the loveseat, where they sat down as Will reached for his teacup. After a moment, Matthew hesitantly held out his hand towards James, who gladly took it. Matthew looked hesitant, so he squeezed his hand to reassure him.

“To be rather honest,” Tessa said slightly hesitantly, as if unsure how to proceed, “We…knew. To an extent.”

James raised his eyebrows.

“Really?” He asked.

“Jamie,” Will said affectionately. “Despite inheriting my brains and good looks, you can be dull at times. You never seemed to be able to shut up about Matthew.”

“You were always rendezvousing around with him, you always were writing letters about him,” Tessa continued. “By the Angel, you even blushed every time you came out of your room with Matthew.”

“It was really quite obvious.” Will finished.

James and Matthew sat in stunned silence for a moment.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Matthew asked, his voice unusually uncertain.

“We knew that you’d tell us, eventually.” Tessa said, setting down her cup. “We just wanted you to be ready when it happened.”

James nodded, his heart close to bursting. Matthew hesitantly smiled at James, who returned the favor by squeezing his hand.

“That went better than expected.”

Matthew collapsed on James’s bed, letting out a sigh of relief. James sat next to him, running a hair through his blonde silky locks.

He grinned and pulled James on top of him, snaking an arm around his waist.

“What-”

Matthew covered his mouth.

“Let’s pick up where we left off, shall we?”

[thomaslightwoodenthusiast]

finally, the moment you’ve all been waiting for...

THE ONESHOT IS FINALLY FINISHED!!!! i really hope you guys like this, it was so much fun to write :) lmk if you want me to post this somewhere else to make it easier to read!

(@ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone asked for a tag so here u go :) if anyone else would like one, or would like to be part of a taglist for any future writings, just lmk!)

tattoo - a thomastair oneshot

———

It was late in the morning. Thomas was lounging on the settee, Alastair’s head settled comfortably in his lap. The sun was casting rays of light through the window at just the perfect angle; reducing Alastair’s eyes from brownish-black to a beautiful shade of burnt umber. Thomas was looking out the window, but occasionally he would look down at his lap to find himself absentmindedly playing with his hair. They hadn’t spoken much for the past while, but had been silently enjoying each other’s presence. Upon waking, Alastair had insisted they take it easy that day because they were ‘both so tired and overworked’, although Thomas had a feeling it was really because he just wanted to spend as much time with him as he could before someone inevitably disturbed their peace.

Unfortunately, he was going to be the one to disturb that peace.

Burying his face in Alastair’s hair, he spoke. “My darling, do you think you could do something for me?”

Alastair turned himself around so that he could face Thomas. He had a smirk and a devilish glint in his eyes. “My dear Tom,” he said, sliding a hand up Thomas’s neck and settling his fingertips along his jaw. “You should know by now that I would do absolutely anything, should you request it of me,” he continued, lifting his face close enough for Thomas to feel his breath on his skin. He momentarily forgot what he was going to ask Alastair to do, instead becoming lost in his gaze. But he was determined that his plan be carried out today, and he was not going to let a very handsome Persian boy -my very handsome Persian boy, he mentally noted- ruin it. “Do we have any writing materials around?”

“I believe so,” Alastair, raising an eyebrow and looking slightly dismayed, replied. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I would like you to write something for me.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling until you get the materials.”

Alastair huffed, though not without affection, and left to retrieve the items. Even though he was only gone a brief moment, Thomas could almost still feel his physical presence. His soft, warm skin. His luscious, black-as-the-night hair. It was ridiculous, he thought, that he had ever dyed it. Blond worked on Math, of course. And it wasn’t that it didn’t work on Alastair; Thomas was fairly sure he would still look perfect if he had vermillion coloured hair. But there was something so striking about his natural colour. Like the feathers of a raven.

A raven? Really, Thomas?

He was woken from his reverie by Alastair promptly dropping the ink and paper on the coffee table. “Now, pray tell me why I was -and quite rudely if I say so myself- disturbed from a lovely relaxed state of mind with my beloved.” Thomas smiled at Alastair’s slight tone of annoyance, and his heart fluttered when he uttered the word ‘beloved’.

“Could you please write ‘I love you’? And then the same again, but in Farsi?” Alastair looked incredibly confused, but Thomas was hoping he would not ask why he was doing this. His plan was to get him to write the phrases and then leave for the city. A new tattoo parlour had opened recently, and ever since his first he had been itching to get another. He would take Alastair’s handwritten words, and have them permanently etched on his skin. He knew how much he loved his rose compass; Thomas hoped to gain the same reaction to the new one.

Alastair, still looking confused, handed Thomas the paper he had written on. Even his handwriting was perfect. Thomas smiled, getting up from the settee. He slid his arms around Alastair’s waist, to which Alastair responded by nestling his head into his shoulder.

“I have to go now, my love. I shall be back in a short while,” said Thomas.

Alastair rolled his eyes and groaned. “Are you serious? You promised, when I asked, that we would be having this day to ourselves. It isn’t often we get to just...exist together,” he replied, looking up expectantly at him. “Also, you are yet to tell me what your intentions are with my handwriting.”

Thomas cursed himself internally. Even though it wasn’t anything big, he hated lying, and especially to Alastair. But he was determined that this remained a surprise. Rather than complicate things further, he decided to tell him exactly that.

“I can’t say exactly what, because it’s a surprise. You will most definitely like it, I promise. I would not be doing it today if I thought it was not important.”

Alastair moved himself so that the pair were now making eye contact. His face was still showing his discontent, but it seemed as if he had accepted that Thomas was not budging on the matter. As he headed to the door, Alastair pulled him back by the forearms to kiss him goodbye. When they pulled back, Thomas noticed that Alastair’s hand rested entirely over the rose compass, and he was running his thumb over the inked skin. He then slid it down, rubbing circles on the area of skin Thomas intended to use for today. It was as if he had already figured it out.

“Be quick, lest I will have you locked out for the night,” Alastair said, before turning around and heading back into the main room, leaving Thomas blushing in the entryway.

/

Still with the paper in his hand, Thomas approached the parlour. He stopped for a moment to look at the few design options displayed in the window. None of them truly appealed to him; not more than what was on his note. Taking a breath, he pushed the door open. He had chosen to wear a long-sleeved shirt; he would be able to simply roll his sleeve up without revealing any of his Marks.

A man around Thomas’s father’s age looked up as he walked in. His hair was grey streaked with some white, held back in a long plait. He had a kind face, and he smiled as he greeted him.

“Hello there, young man! What brings you in today?”

“I was hoping to get something done, but it’s not any of those designs. Is that possible?”

The man only smiled even more. “Of course! I know this is a new place, and people might be confused, but as long as you bring a reference picture or something similar I’m more than happy to do something that isn’t on display. May I have a look?” he said, crossing the floor to Thomas. Thomas passed the paper to him. He was a little bit worried about how he would react to the Farsi part; some English mundanes -and regrettably Shadowhunters too- were quite standoffish when it came to any language other than their own.

The man looked back up at Thomas and still smiling motioned for him to sit down. “Whereabouts are we thinking for this, then?”

“Just here,” he said, unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeve. “I thought it would look nice beneath this piece.”

The man’s eyes widened briefly. “My god,” he breathed. “This is some impressive work. The industry is only new; that’s a true artist’s doing. Where did you get it done?”

Thomas couldn’t help but blush a bit. He still wasn’t entirely used to compliments, however small they were. “Barcelona. Spent some time there a year or two ago. I didn’t plan on getting it, but I thought the design was quite pretty.”

“Quite pretty would be an understatement, my friend. Speaking of which- terribly rude of me to not introduce myself! My name is Spencer.” Spencer said this with a dramatic flick of the wrist which ended in him clutching his hand to his chest and mocking a bow. Thomas laughed.

“It’s quite alright. I’m Thomas.”

Spencer held his hand out for Thomas to shake. After he prepared everything he needed and got to work, the two fell into conversation. Spencer was quite an interesting and eccentric man as it turned out; he was sure that he and Magnus would make amazing friends.

“So, who’s the lucky lady getting her handwriting permanently etched into this man?” Spencer asked, raising his eyebrows. Thomas froze entirely; he had completely forgotten the possibility of being asked about the tattoo’s origins. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was another Shadowhunter, but he was starkly reminded of why he was thankful to be one in that moment. Being a man who engaged in relationships with other men was illegal for the mundanes. There was no way of knowing what Spencer would think, and he couldn’t risk hinting it to him unless he was certain it was safe. Briefly, Matthew and Magnus flashed through his mind. It was true they enjoyed the presence of women too, but this situation would affect them just as much. And Alastair. Thomas couldn’t bear to think of what would happen to them, were they both mundanes. He would much rather be dead than live in a world where he couldn’t be with him.

“....Or man,” Spencer added. He had stopped tattooing for a moment and was looking at Thomas with a closed expression. He felt himself starting to sweat; he couldn’t think of anything to say, and there was no chance of him lying.

“Hey,” he continued again, lightly punching Thomas’s thigh. “If your feelings lie with men, you don’t have to worry about hiding it in here. I promise. These laws about homosexuality that mundanes have are ridiculous. Everyone should be allowed to love freely.”

Thomas was startled. Not only by Spencer’s apparent support for people like him, but the way he said the word ‘mundanes’. No mundanes knew that Shadowhunters existed; not least that they referred to them that way. “...Mundanes?”

Spencer laughed. “Yes. Mundanes. I can tell you’re a Shadowhunter, Mr. Thomas. I’m a warlock,” he said, turning around to reveal the back of his neck. Surely enough, it was covered in fishlike scales which he clarified covered his entire back. Thomas felt the tension leave his body, and he realised he was actually breathing again.

“Why did you decide to do this then, if you’re a warlock? Surely you’ll be dealing with lots of mundanes.”

Spencer shrugged. “Art is my passion; always has been. Shadowhunters aren’t big on tattoos for obvious reasons, and other Downworlders generally seem indifferent towards them. I figured that I could demonstrate my talent to the mundanes; they seem to be fascinated by these kinds of things.”

Thomas smiled. “I think sometimes that Shadowhunters are fascinated by them too. I remember the first ever moving picture I saw. I was amazed at how they managed to do it. Actually,” he paused a moment, blushing, “I saw it with him. My Alastair. In Paris.”

At that, Spencer grinned. “Alastair. That’s whose writing this is, I’m guessing?”

Although there were no mirrors around, Thomas was sure that he was the colour of a tomato now. “Yes. We weren’t actually, uh, together, so to speak, when we saw the film. But it will forever be one of my favourite memories with him.”

“And in Paris, too. How romantic,” Spencer added, wiggling his eyebrows. “How come you were there together, but not as a couple?” He had started tattooing again.

“I had stopped off before heading home from Spain. He was actually there with...someone else. Another man. But there was no love there. No respect. Alastair was just being used. I felt a bit guilty for having all these feelings towards him despite him not being there for me, and yet it seemed like it was the universe’s way of putting us together. Like we were written in the stars.”

Thomas psychologically kicked himself for his last remark. Written in the stars? By the Angel Thomas. You didn’t need to say it out loud.

Spencer chuckled softly. “Well, Thomas. This Alastair of yours is ever so lucky to have you. How lovely to have someone who thinks not even the world, but the universe, of you.”

/

Once the tattoo had been finished, and Thomas had spent some time admiring it, he walked home as quickly as he could. He was desperate to show Alastair; it looked absolutely beautiful on his arm. Spencer had done an amazing job of capturing his handwriting; the loopy, elegant letters. Though as he approached the door to their home, he heard Alastair talking to someone.

If Thomas was not mistaken, that someone was a blond-haired, green-eyed ball of energy.

“Hello, Matthew,” Thomas said as he opened the door. He lifted his hand to wave at him and smiled his best ever smile that lit up his eyes. Alastair, who was entering the room, watched with a quizzical look as he held his hand over his wrist. He was constantly telling Thomas how beautiful his smile was, and how it brightened his face and made the colours in his hazel eyes so much more vibrant. How the little crinkles surrounding them, born out of tragedy, were enough to turn him into putty in his hands.

Thomas hoped that this smile would distract Alastair from the fact that he had actually been gone for at least three hours.

“Thomas! My good, dear friend. What on earth could have possibly led you to leave your beloved alone all day?” Matthew exclaimed. Clearly he had been there for quite a while, as Alastair inclined his head in agreement.

“Exactly,” he added. “I rather think I should take off with Matthew now and leave you here as you did to me.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Alright, don’t get too confident Carstairs.”

Thomas laughed. It was nice to have Alastair and Matthew getting along now. They brought out the good in each other, and were a lot more similar than they would want to admit. “Well Math, seeing as you’re here too, you can see it as well,” he said, walking towards the two of them and lifting his hand off his arm.

Matthew’s eyes widened. “By the Angel, Tom. You are so in love, aren’t you?” He had a wistful look on his face as he said this. In truth, Thomas knew that he didn’t need anyone. He was getting over his illness, and that was the main concern for now. But at the same time, it must occasionally get to him. Thomas and Alastair. Anna and Ari. James and Cordelia. Jesse and Lucie. Everyone around him was in love.

For now, Oscar was enough. Math loved Oscar as much as he loved his friends.

Alastair looked stunned. He took Thomas’s arm gently and bent down, as if to get a closer look at the tattoo. His brown skin developed a pinkish hue on his cheeks that grew so bright and so quickly one could’ve sworn it was the top layer of skin burning off. He muttered something under his breath about excusing himself and promptly left the room, accidentally slamming the door in the process.

Matthew’s gaze followed him and turned back to Thomas once he had left. “Well. I think we know what he thinks of it.”

Thomas’s face had also started to become flushed. He stuttered in an attempt to say something in response to Matthew, who simply laughed and held up a hand. “I sense my presence is no longer required here. Otherwise I’ll end up witnessing something I really do not wish to. Not at least,” he added, “when the two men are my friends.”

Thomas smirked. “Oh, so Alastair’s a friend now?”

“I think he has to be. Think of it as...a friend by marriage type of thing.”

“...A friend-in-law?”

“Exactly that!” Matthew exclaimed. Without saying anything else he took himself to the door, doffing an imaginary cap, and left. Thomas went to the door Alastair had slammed a few seconds ago and knocked. He opened the door almost immediately, still bright red and with his hair slightly messier than it had been a moment earlier.

“You. My Tom. Wow,” said Alastair between breaths. He couldn’t seem to think of anything to say, which was amusing Thomas quite a lot.

“You like it, don’t you, darling?” Thomas smiled, relishing in the frustration of Alastair. He wasn’t big on pet names, but Thomas learned pretty quickly that a ‘darling’ every so often would drive him insane.

Instead of giving a verbal response, Alastair pulled Thomas towards him for a kiss. Thomas cupped his face and felt the heat radiating off his skin. Taking one hand, he slid it down Alastair’s spine to hold him at the small of his back. He made a sound, and broke away. “My Tom. My beautiful Tom. You will never know how beautiful you are to me,” he mused, rubbing his thumb across the new ink. Thomas winced a little; it was painful still, but Alastair’s hands were so elegant. He knew exactly how and where to touch him.

“So that’s why you left for so long, then.”

Thomas kissed his neck and along his jaw, stopping at his cheekbone to whisper in Alastair’s ear;

“I can make up for it now though, can’t I?”

[purplebass]

That's What Candles Do / Thomastair

So here I am with a Thomastair Christmas drabble. Today I also wanted to be short and to the point and write something fluffy and cute to celebrate this season. More may follow, but tomorrow (because right now I'm tired lol). So enjoy <3

Rating: G Words: 489 Read on A03 💜

“Where did you say Cordelia got this candle?” Thomas wondered, a mixture of pine and something else – maybe cinnamon – hitting his nostrils after the wick started to burn. 

“Amsterdam, I think,” Alastair scrunched his nose. “I am not sure I like this smell.”

“It’s bittersweet,” he admitted. “But it’s growing on me. Perhaps it will grow on you too.”

Alastair shrugged from his armchair, and glanced at the cream colored scented candle sitting on the wooden table that separated him from Thomas’ armchair. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “At least I remembered to light it. Last time Cordelia was here, she ordered me to use this damn candle around this time. She said this is the scent of Christmas, but I beg to differ.”

“Did she?” Thomas chuckled. At that, Alastair rolled his eyes. “Well, it is a gift. Of course, she wants you to use it. Gifts are not meant to be sitting on the mantle and gathering dust.”

“We’re talking about a candle, Tom,” he raised an eyebrow. “That’s what candles do.”

Thomas sighed. “Yes, but this is a scented candle. Keyword being scented. It’s meant to spread its fragrance throughout its surroundings. Look at the soft atmosphere it gives this room,” he gestured at the walls with his hand. “Isn’t the perfect Christmas setting?”

“It just makes it impossible for me to enjoy the newspaper with such bad lightning,” he complained, putting the paper aside.

Thomas shook his head and stood up, something caught his attention behind the window. 

“It’s snowing.”

“Is it, now? Must’ve been the power of the candle,” he joked.

“Come here to see,” Thomas demanded. “It’s picking up. It’s the first real snow of the season.”

Alastair rose from his chair and reached his partner. “You were not exaggerating,” he commented. “That’s really a lot of snow. Just in time for Christmas.”

“I thought you didn’t care about Christmas,” Thomas retorted. 

“Why would I have put some mistletoe above the window, if I didn’t?”

Thomas frowned, and looked up. “When did you put this here? I didn’t see it.”

“This morning when you were away with your father,” he confessed. “And you can blame the candle and the bad lightning for your poor sight.” 

“Would you please leave the poor candle alone?” 

Alastair giggled, putting one of his hands behind Thomas’ back. “Only if you give me a kiss. We’re under the mistletoe, after all. And there’s this hint of winter in the air thanks to the candle. The snow is falling outside our window. And I’m in your arms.”

“I’ll give you more than one kiss,” he leaned closer, one hand resting behind Alastair’s neck, the other on his hip. “I have to make up for my bad sight.”

“Shut up, Thomas,” Alastair said playfully, just as the grandfather clock on the wall struck midnight. “And Merry Christmas.” He dragged him by the lapels of his jacket and kissed him.

Merry Christmas, indeed. 

***

Notes: I don't know why but I feel like Cordelia would be the type to gift a scented candle??? In my mind, she got that candle in Amsterdam during her travel year with James. She wanted to contribute to Alastair and Thomas' house with something they could put on the mantle or use (because candles are soothing and give the right atmosphere). Alastair probably thinks candles are overrated because of electricity, but they are still useful.

[lifewouldbebetteronmars]

Title from Vigilante Shit by Taylor Swift

Prompt - “I'm done. I'm done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

This fic might be a little OOC but trust the process

Angstmas Days of Summer Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You Did Some Bad Things, But I’m The Worst of Them

Thomas was glad to be back at Alastair’s flat after a night of being ignored at the party they had been too. It was the Herondales’ annual Christmas party and Alastair had basically ignored him the whole time, unless Charles was looking of course.

They’d been wallflowers all night, sticking along to the sidelines and barely talking to anyone else. Alastair generally ignoring his presence next to him.

Unless Charles was watching, then Alastair would be all over him. Arms around his waist, kisses on his neck, sweet smiles that he would give anything to see at another time. But it was all a show.

He knew Alastair was using him and for awhile, Thomas didn’t care.

But Thomas was tired of pretending.

He slumped down into a chair in the corner and put his head in his hands.

“Tom? Are you alright?” Alastair asked, coming to crouch next to him, a soft hand rubbing his shoulder.

“No.” he whispered, almost hoping Alastair wouldn’t hear. But he did.

“No? What’s wrong? Did you not have fun at the party?”

Thomas finally looked up, seeing Alastair looking at him with concern in his dark eyes. He knew Alastair cared about him, he just didn’t want him. “No, Alastair, I didn’t have fun being used all night to make your ex jealous.”

“Thomas, what-what are you talking about?” The other man sounded almost incredulous, as if he didn’t know what he’d been doing to Thomas for months now.

“You only started dating me to get back at Charles, am I right or am I wrong?”

The silence in the room was deafening.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m wrong.”

“I can’t.”

“Because I’m not, right?”

It was silent yet again, Alastair trying to look anywhere but Thomas but Thomas wouldn’t let him do that, he couldn’t hide away, not yet.

He gripped Alastair’s chin in his hand and forced him to look up at him. “I need you to look at me when I say this. Can you do that?” Alastair managed a small nod and Thomas continued. “I'm done. I'm done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

“So you want to break up?” Alastair’s voice sounded small.

“Is it really a breakup if one of us wasn’t really in it?” Thomas smiled, a tight, painful smile. “I really loved you, you know. I was so happy when you finally looked my way. But now, I wish you never had.”

With that, Thomas got up and left, leaving Alastair there on the floor with his thoughts, giving him no time to respond.

It wasn’t until he was halfway to his own flag that he felt his heart begin to break inside of his chest and tears start to roll down his cheeks.

He had really loved him, hadn’t he?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m really just proving Kat’s point with these fics at this point, Thomas suffers dead or alive ig

Tagging:

@tessherongraystairs @wagner-fell @petalsofaflower-shutupthomas @littlx-songbxrd @aliandtommy

[steam-powered-chaos]

The Blue Moon Festival (A Frozen Storm short story)

[Tw murder, mentions of abuse and slight transphobia]

“Orion my boy, once you’ve finished up over there you can help me with these boxes!” The 17 year old’s father called, the boy looking up and giving him a nod as he tightened the lady’s corset, his light fingers carefully twisting and finishing the outfit off with a bow, bowing to the old woman with a cheeky smile and a wink. Her cheeks flushed as she smiled back at him, tipping her hat to him. “You’ve raised a fine young man here Alastair!” She called out to his father and the man chuckled fondly, as Orion rushed over to take a heavy box from his arms, beaming at her. After all, the Blue Moon festival was that night, and preparations couldn’t cease. His brother Thomas scoffed, sneering at him and Orion’s smile fell, his eyes dropping to the floor at his younger twin’s reaction. “Don’t you mean girl?” He let out a cackle, and Orion shrunk into himself, silently sliding the box into place and turning away, trying to ignore the prickling shame on the back of his neck. He glanced up in time to see Thomas get cuffed around the ear and given a stern look by his father, to which he glared at him. “Don’t talk about your brother that way Thomas. In fact, he’s acting more like a man than you are! So get off your arse and help with these boxes, Orion, you go check on your mama.”

Thomas grumbled, begrudgingly sliding off the wall he was sitting and grabbing a box, Orion walking past him with his head lowered, flinching when he felt a foot stamp onto his, biting his tongue to stop himself from yelling out with pain as he walked inside. Upon scanning the house, he deducted his mother must be upstairs, painting again, so went to the stove, heating up the kettle. Upon hearing its whistle, he carefully poured the boiling water into the teacup and carrying the tea upstairs into the observatory. Sure enough, there she was, her hair untied and flowing down her back as she painted quietly. “Mama? I brought you tea..” Orion whispered, and she paused with a soft gasp, turning her face slightly to look at him, her soft pink eyes shining slightly and she nodded kindly. “Thank you Orion, you’re very kind… how are the festival preparations going?” His smile returned, sitting down on a paint stained old stool, before his smile began to fade again, thinking of what his brother had said to him. “…Mama? Why does… why does Thomas hate me?” The siren let out a quiet sigh, putting down the paintbrush and turning to face him properly, her long pointed ears so similar to his own, as she reached out and stroked his cheek gently.

“Oh my star, your brother doesn’t hate you… that’s just sometimes how siblings are, you know?” He sighed heavily, looking away slightly from her gentle, concerned eyes. “Really? You think so?” He murmured quietly. “I know so, now come on, let’s continue those festival preparations!” She stood up, swiftly making her way downstairs, leaving Orion to follow after her, although he paused a moment to mull over her words. He walked downstairs, heading out into the sunshine that bathed his face in a golden light, as Thomas stood in the shade as he hauled box after box, growling at Orion when he walked over to help.

He was sent sprawling to the floor, as the pirate crashed into him, grabbing onto his arms to stop him fleeing on instinct, as there was a shout from the police, quickly hauling the man off of Orion. He looked around 19, his gorgeous orange eyes staring into Orion’s own shocked expression, the boy’s cheeks slowly flushing upon looking closer at the other’s handsome face. The pirate grinned at him, winking at him as he was carted away, Orion still dumbstruck on the floor, as his father lifted him back onto his feet and brushing him off, the boy only able to give him a faint nod in response to being asked if he was alright, the blush on his face slowly fading. He shook his head to clear it, slowly going back to the boxes and steadily lifting out the streamers, shaking away thoughts of handsome pirates. “Poor boy.. I swear they get younger every year” Alastair shook his head, starting to take the decorations out from the boxes. Orion grabbed a string of bunting, before walking off into the market, stringing it across the oil lampposts and market stalls, smiling as he watched boats dock into the harbour as the sun slowly began to set. After all, the blue moon was a brilliant sight, and the Festival usually brought crowds from all over, although they never usually began arriving this early. Once Orion had finished his decorating spree, he climbed onto the roof of the old house his family had lived in, leaning against the stained glass window at the very top of the house and watching as the moon began to rise from the ocean.

“Orion! Boy, get down from there, the festival is starting!” His father called, and he laughed, the wind flowing in his hair as he clambered back down, landing on the soft green grass with a little humph. He smiled, walking beside his father into the market, although briefly wondered where his mother and Thomas had gone too, but assumed that Thomas was most likely sulking somewhere. He was never one for festivities after all. So Orion slowly split off from his Alastair’s side, going to the nearest market stall that caught his eye, one selling colourful pendants in the shapes of the water god’s symbol, a symbol of luck especially to seafaring folk, Orion thought to himself, sliding a few coins across the counter and took the pendant handed to him. He paused, his eyes drifting to an alleyway as his ears seemed to prick up slightly, and he narrowed his eyes at the sight of a scrap of familiar fabric.

He walked into the alleyway silently, the sounds of the busy festival quietening as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, smelling something… pungent and metallic. That’s when he saw it, his mother’s corpse, laying still warm on the ground, a shocked scream catching in his throat as he ran to her side, shaking her rapidly cooling body, her blue blood getting all over his hands and sleeve, flinging his face down onto her to listen for any kind of heartbeat. It was no use, she was dead, and recently too. Orion barely lifted his head as he heard quiet footsteps from behind him, and a shocked gasp from Thomas. “Orion, what have you done? You-… you monster! You murdered her, your own mother!” He cried, and Orion stammered slightly in shock, trying to wipe her blood from his face as his brother ran out, yelling murder.

Orion was dragged away from his mother’s corpse, tears streaming down his face, police gripping his arms tightly as he thrashed and squirmed, pleading his innocence, as his family watched in shock and grief, Alastair kneeling down by Diana’s side with a quiet sob. Slowly, the crowds dispersed, leaving the man and his son to grieve, before Thomas walked away in silence. Orion yelled out as he was dragged into the dungeons, into the deepest pit and thrown into a cell, curling up into a corner as sobs wracked his body.

And Helio listened from the other cell, as the young man grieved for a crime he did not commit, and a mother he was not allowed to say goodbye to.

[drunkonimagination]

gideon will love alastair? of course he will.

but imagine him and sophie inviting thomas and alastair over for dinner in midwinter: it's very late and there's still no sign of them. thomas's parents start to get seriously worried: their son is usually very punctual, especially if alastair is with him, but when they start considering sending a fire message for real, miraculously the bell rings. they run to the front door preparing for the worst... just to find the most insufferable version of their son, all sighs and eye rolls, clothed more than necessary: gloves and hat on, an enormous scarf around his neck and the most heavy jacket he could possibly find. worry quickly gives way to confusion when both thomas's parents slowly turn their head toward alastair. he's grinning beside thomas, folded arms and hair perfectly styled. “i apologize, it took a while” he says “i had to put him that hat by force". thomas meanwhile mumbles something under his breathe very similar to 'i can't believe you made me wear gloves, i'm not five anymore' before removing his hat like it was suddenly on fire.

then what? sophie will slip alastair adoption papers when thomas isn't looking??

[youngreckless]

Late at night, with their bodies pressed together back to front, Thomas whispers in the quiet, "Alastair."

"Hmm?" Alastair says, mind sluggish and hazy with sleep.

Pressing a kiss to his neck from behind, Thomas says again, "Alastair."

"Yes, love?" Alastair mumbles.

Thomas presses another kiss behind his ear and tightens his arm around Alastair's middle, pulling them impossibly close together. "Alastair," he whispers again. "I love your name." He breathes in the scent of the man in his arms. "Alastair. So beautiful. Just like you." He presses another kiss to Alastair's nape.

Heavy with sleep but suddenly filled with love, Alastair intertwines their hands over his chest and brings them up to press his lips against Thomas' knuckles. "Love yours too," he says.

[anarmorofwords]

ok but imagine Alastair getting back home after the Sanctuary. Imagine him entering the house, moving stiffly, as if in a trance, eyes hollow. Feeling burnt out and exhausted beyond measure, just a dull nothingness echoing in his chest.

What else is left after you throw away your one shot at happiness, even brief? After you walk away when all you wanted was to get closer?

He's used to suffering for the right reasons, to clutching his own bleeding heart, but finding comfort in the knowledge that someone else's is safe.

But doing the right thing never felt so wrong. It never came with a luminous, beautiful boy flinching at his words, the terrible pain in his eyes, that Alastair's mind refuses to stop remembering, over and over.

In his room, he takes off his clothes, and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, after the shirt flies to the ground.

His hand goes to his neck, to a small love mark there, barely visible in the darkness, and he closes his eyes.

Suddenly, it's too much.

The memory of hazel eyes shining in the candlelight pours into his mind. He can almost feel the touch of lips on his throat, the warm hands settling on his waist, in his hair, their firm but gentle touch. He remembers the way Thomas's arms wrapped around him, forming a sanctuary within a Sanctuary.

But the feeling is too distant - like a dream that slips away right after you wake up, despite your desperate attempts to hold on to it. And just like then, he ends up with nothing but a fading image, and a burning ache in his heart.

The sweet dream vanished, as dreams always do.

It doesn't stop him from wishing it lasted longer.

His knees give way, and he slumps against the bed, a sob finally escaping his throat. The sound is muffled by the bedsheets. He grabs a handful of them tightly, his other arm hugging his own chest, remembering the way Thomas held him. But Thomas's touch is gone. The memory of it will soon fade as well.

As another sob rattles through him, he traces the love mark on his neck, gently, knowing he should reach for a stele.

But some stupid part of him wants to keep it just a little longer, the only remnant of the beautiful dream he should have never let himself experience.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Puzzles

A/N: Idk if this is good, but I wanted to write it so bad, so I did it because I can:

Ship: Sophideon + Family fluff

Title: Puzzles

...

Sophie woke to the warmth of Gideon’s body and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. She could also hear the children, speaking in hushed tones and giggles. Cracking open an eye, she saw that they were currently sitting side-by-side by the coffee table, their backs facing her. Her left arm was resting on Gideon’s chest, and it rose and fell with his steady breathing.

She realized that their legs were tangled together under the thick blanket that she could only assume their children had placed over them. She closed her eyes and took a blissful stretch before resting her temple on her husband’s shoulder. He was still asleep, emitting soft snores that she felt in her belly.

They had been patrolling all night, and had barely gotten any sleep before their children woke them up again, ready to begin the day. Sophie and Gideon lasted until midday before they must have fallen asleep. The fact that they’d managed to stay awake that long surprised Sophie.

She wiggled her toes a little bit and adjusted herself, so that she could stretch the leg that was thrown over Gideon’s hips. His hand was warm on the small of her back, and she didn’t want to accidentally shift in such a way that would cause it to slip off her. Therefore, each movement was minuscule and delicate.

Gideon’s breath stirred the smallest tendrils of her hair. She looked up at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. She loved him very much. So much so, she often surprised herself, as she had never thought she could ever love someone again, after what had happened to her all those years ago. She kissed his jawline and put her ear to his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against her cheek.

It was times such as these that she felt as if the world stopped at her fingertips; like no matter what happened, she would be fine, as long as she were here, with Gideon by her side and their children near.

She heard Gideon grunt softly, as he always did before he woke up, before slowly opening his eyes. He blinked a little, his dazed eyes slowly roaming the room, and closed them once more. He turned to where she was, resting the tip of his nose against her forehead.

“Good morning,” he muttered, his voice an octave deeper than usual and thick with sleep.

“Evening is more like it,” she replied, reaching up to stroke his impossibly soft hair.

She felt Gideon’s muscles shift as he stretched them, the hand he had on her waist tensing briefly as he did so.

Finally, Gideon let out a breath through his nose and said, “that was the greatest sleep I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

Sophie chuckled softly. “I would have thought the best sleep of your life would have been on our wedding night.”

Gideon opened his eyes and smiled, “we didn’t do much sleeping that night, though, did we?”

Sophie nudged him with her elbow. “Why is it that you’re only like this around me? You act diplomatically and mature to everybody, and yet you say the most scandalous things when it is just us.”

Gideon pressed a soft and lasting kiss on her lips. He then brought his lips close to her ear and muttered, “I’m not trying to woo everybody else,” before kissing the spot where her jawline began.

Sophie’s eyes shuttered closed, Gideon’s warm breath sending shivers down her spine, but she turned her face away from him and nodded in the direction of their children. “We should spare them the sight of their parents kissing.”

Gideon turned to where they were huddled around the puzzle. Sophie resisted the urge to turn his face towards her and kiss him regardless.

He looks back at her soon enough, his sea green eyes bright in the soft light the fire emitted.

“They’re not paying attention.” He said, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face with his knuckle. “They have their backs to us.”

“They could turn around at any second and begin shrieking, like two of them did last time.” Sophie said.

It was no mystery to anybody who the two that had done said shrieking were.

Gideon presses his lips together at the memory of that before raising his eyebrows and smirking.

“What’s that smirk all about?” Sophie asked.

Before Sophie could so much as to guess what it could be about, Gideon turned on his side and lifted the thick blanket so that it shielded them from the children.

“How is this?” He asked, kissing her nose.

Sophie huffed out a laugh. “It’s better, I suppose. At least this way, our eardrums will remain intact.”

“Hallelujah.” Gideon said, flashing her a dazzling smile, that made her insides melt. She put both of her hands on either side of his face and lowered his lips towards her own. They kissed softly, unrushed and lavishingly so.

Gideon was so warm. His body seemed to emit heat when he slept, which meant that right now, his skin was hot enough that it felt as though Sophie were standing right in front of a furnace. It ended up working in their favor, because whenever Thomas gets too cold at night, they plant him next to Gideon and he’s able to fall asleep. They’re absolutely adorable when they sleep together, if Sophie does say so herself.

Sophie giggled against his lips, causing them to break apart.

“What?” Gideon asked, his smile soft as he kissed the corners of her lips.

“I just thought about something silly.” She said, spreading her hands on his chest and roaming upward, intertwining them at the nape of his neck.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

Sophie shook her head giggling.

“Come now,” he said, playfully, “I’m dying of curiosity.”

“Alright. I was thinking about the time you slipped off the roof while we were patrolling in London.”

Gideon laughed through his nose, burying his nose in a particularly sensitive spot of her neck. “I’m never living that down, aren’t I?”

Sophie shrugged her left shoulder and kissed Gideon’s bottom lip when he lifted his head.

“Not a chance.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed her shamelessly, his hands sending shivers through her as they travelled up and down the sensitive skin of her waist and hips.

“We should stop,” Gideon said, breaking apart. “Before they realize we’re awake.”

“Yes, I suppose we should.” Sophie said.

They kissed once, twice and then thrice (for good measure) before reemerging from the blanket.

Once they’d gotten over their daze, they arranged themselves in each other's arms, fitting like pieces of a puzzle, and gazed towards their children. They were quiet as they built a puzzle Sophie had left out for them while she and Gideon rested on the couch for a while. They hadn’t expected to fall asleep, but thankfully, the children were still entertained by the puzzle. Barbara had a blanket over her shoulders and had placed little Thomas in her crossed legs, periodically hugging him and adjusting the blanket, so that he didn’t get cold.

Thomas, on the other hand, took every opportunity Barbara was looking away to try to crawl out from the blankets and watch the puzzle-making action.

Eugenia was humming to herself, picking up random pieces and fitting them together. Every time she’d manage to get them to go together, she’d get up and do a little twirl, before sitting down once more and starting the whole process all over again.

Thomas was the first to realize they’d woken up. He gave them a toothy grin and crawled out of Barbara’s arms. Using the table to slowly get to his feet, he padded over to Eugenia.

When he got close enough, however, Sophie reached over Gideon’s chest and scooped him up. She tucked him into her arms and kissed his little cheeks.

“You’ve been caught by the love monster.” She said tickling and attacking him with kisses. Thomas giggled and tried to squirm away from her, but she held on tighter.

Part of her wants to hold Thomas forever. It felt like just yesterday he’d been born, four months and two weeks premature. He was still so small and light in her arms and got sick far too easily, but she thanked the Angel everyday for his life. Her miracle child. Who seemed very keen on getting away.

She stopped peppering him with kisses enough to hold him away so that she could see his face.

“You don’t love the Love Monster?”

He met her stare before putting his hands on her cheeks and kissing her forehead. Sophie

raised her eyebrows at him and when he giggled again, she tucked him in her arms.

“No,” she heard a soft voice say.

She pulled back. “What?”

“I love Mama, not the Love Monster.”

Gideon chuckled and ruffled his hair.

Sophie gave Thomas a final kiss on the forehead and let him go to his sisters.

They watched their children put puzzle pieces together, Eugenia aggressively so, going so far as to slam her fist upon two tricky pieces.

“Mama! Papa! Do you like it?” Eugenia said, gesturing towards the unfinished puzzle.

They both craned their necks to see.

“Oh. Erm…”

“We love it!” Sophie said.

“It’s lovely.” Gideon added.

When the kids turned around again, Sophie covered her mouth.

“There’s not a single puzzle piece that’s connected to its corresponding partner, is there?” Gideon asked.

“No, I’m afraid that in the hours we’ve been asleep, they haven’t managed to piece any together correctly.” Sophie said.

Gideon pressed his lips together and shrugged. “Well…”

“They’ll get more intelligent with age.” Sophie said.

“Yes, yes. I should think so.”

“I should hope so.”

They looked at each other and smiled, and then laughed, perfectly content with the life they had made for themselves.

...

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[edwinspaynes]

You said you wanted prompts, so here's one I hope you haven't done yet: thomastair dancing + fluff? 👀

Moonlight Sonata and I

Read on Ao3

Summer, 1923

A lot could happen in twenty years.

A lot could change, and a lot did.

You could travel the world, explore its nooks and crannies hand in hand with your soulmate. You could admire its natural and man-made wonders as you laughed together with honey-coated fingers, sticky crepes and gulab jamun and shibuya cake still sweet in your mouth. The world could become faster, louder. You could drive around with the windows of your Ford Model T down as he quipped about automobiles and the dissent of mankind. You could see the reflections of new neon lights in his eyes as they glimmered with love, looking at you in the center of Piccadilly Circus as though you were the only thing in the world.

Thomas Lightwood knew all these changes, because he had experienced them firsthand.

Because one thing never changed:

Thomas Lightwood would always love Alastair Carstairs, and Alastair Carstairs would always love Thomas Lightwood.

“Your hair is a mess,” Alastair said, though his was windswept too. Thomas smiled under the electric lights of Fleet Street as Alastair ran his hands through the cropped strands. Then, smiling, he brushed the side of Thomas’s face with his hand before moving it back to his pocket. “There,” he said. “No need to look like you were caught up in a tornado.”

“How do you know I wasn’t?” Thomas’s voice was affable, comfortable. “I am still quite windswept by your declarations earlier.”

“I tell you that I love you in a fanciful way once and you behave as though it’s some sort of grand miracle.” Alastair wove his arm through Thomas’s and smiled at him. “If I did not love you, I’d not have been trailing on after you for two decades. Otherwise, it would be woefully embarrassing.”

“That doesn’t mean that I cannot be arrested by your poetry.”

“Oh, my Tom.” Alastair’s eyes shone. “You know better than anyone that I’m no poet.”

“Of course you are,” Thomas argued. “You’re a musician. That’s its own kind of poetry, is it not?”

“Well, I rely on you for the fineries. What is it that you said about me last week?”

“Nothing.”

“No, I distinctly recall something.”

Thomas felt his cheeks warm. Yet another thing that never changed. “I likened you simultaneously to an ice sculpture and a roaring flame. I really ought to learn not to mix metaphors. It was a lot of stuff and nonsense.”

“I don’t know,” Alastair told him. “I liked it. It made me feel rather powerful, considering that you gave me the capacity to survive within all potential weather conditions.”

“And none of them,” Thomas pointed out.

Alastair nudged him. “At least tonight looks mostly clear,” he said. “And cool. So I needn’t worry about melting.”

“Well, the fire in my heart might get to you,” Thomas quipped with a small smile and a light blush.

“That’s true. I’d best brace myself, then.” He moved closer to Thomas, clearly glad for the warmth, and Thomas wrapped an arm around Alastair’s shoulders. He had every inch of him memorized; his hands curved naturally around the curve of his neck as Alastair moved closer towards him. “But for now, I think that I’ll bask in the moonlight. No weather-related oddities or natural disasters in my path.”

“I’m glad of it,” Thomas said in a kind voice. “I’d miss you if you melted.”

“I’d hope that you would do me the dignity of mopping me up before you collapsed in tears.”

“Perhaps,” Thomas said noncommittally.

“Your messiness still astounds.”

“I’m not messy.”

“You’re not neat.”

Thomas kissed Alastair on the nose.

Alastair met Thomas’s eye, a mischievous gleam in them. “You know, we’re alone here,” he said, and it was true. The bowler-hatted stockbrokers had all gone home for the night in their fancy cars; there were no headlights to illuminate the world around them. The electric lamps flickered as though they were about to go out, and the air was uncharacteristically clean for London. Thomas became all too aware of his breath in that moment, of the way that his lungs took in the fresh air and exhaled in time with Alastair’s heartbeat. His hamsar-am continued. “We could theoretically do anything we wished, away from the prying eyes of this cursed city.”

“Cursed? I thought London was rather growing on you.”

Alastair snorted. “I do suppose I can shop for hats and oddities to my heart’s content. I’ve grown used to your woeful tea. And…” He trailed off. “Well. It’s home.”

“London?”

“No.” Alastair sounded as though he were considering something. “Wherever you are.”

“Oh. Well. I suppose…”

“It makes me sound woefully stupid, but you must know it to be true.”

“After all this time? Of course I do. Besides, you’ve mentioned as much before.”

“I just felt that you might require a reminder.” He paused. “I’ve a request. It’s nothing so interesting, let me tell you, and it’s rather embarrassing, so I’d ask you to keep your laughter to a minimum. Does five seconds sound reasonable?”

Thomas chuckled.

“Well, you’ve taken a head start then, I see,” Alastair informed him, and Thomas kissed the top of his head. But though Alastair’s tone was light, his smile was vulnerable when he looked at Thomas with gray-flecked eyes that shone deep brown under the lamplights. “Dance with me,” he implored quietly.

“Dance?” Thomas felt a small stab of surprise. “Here? Why? We’ve a whole house to dance in. With a gramophone.”

Alastair rolled his eyes. “But here, we’ve unobstructed moonlight and fresh air. Truly a rare natural wonder for a London-dweller. And,” his smile widened, “we’ve all the music we need.”

“Please do not tell me you’re hallucinating Matthew’s children banging away at pans under our bed again. It happened once, years ago. You must let it go, mi amor.”

“I’ll let that go as I release my dying breath,” Alastair said. “But no. I will sing.” He paused. “I promise not to sound like a ghastly wailing ghost filing discordant complaints from beyond the grave.”

“You never sound anything short of lovely,” Thomas reassured Alastair, who rolled his eyes again.

“As always, you give me far too much credit.” Alastair wrapped an arm around Thomas’s waist and took one hand in his own. He began to move his feet as though waltzing, and Thomas thought that the usually subtle silver-gray streaks in his hair looked more pronounced under the moonlight. He decided, in that moment, that he was not deluded; regardless of how much Alastair mocked him for saying so those streaks were alluring, and they had character.

Thomas moved his feet in time with Alastair’s as he allowed him to take the lead, to move closer to him as they spun in circles on the newly-paved sidewalk. Alastair began to hum a song in Persian, one that Thomas did not know but very much wished to. But he didn’t dwell on that, didn’t dwell on the words, because Alastair’s deep baritone was as beautiful as the movements he was making. He was gracefully elegant, Thomas thought, like a warrior riding off to battle on a noble, flowing-maned steed. He did not scold himself for being fanciful; he commended himself for coming up with such an apt metaphor. Alastair was-

“Ow,” Alastair said, more affronted than hurt, and the hand that he was not holding shot up to Thomas’s mouth. “You stepped on my foot,” Alastair informed him. “I hope that amputation won’t be necessary.”

Thomas blanched and cursed his clumsiness. “I’m sorry-”

“I’ll find some way to get you back,” Alastair said reassuringly. “Don’t you worry. Everything is hotsy-totsy.”

Thomas chuckled. “Hotsy-totsy?”

“The mundanes truly do have some unpredictable slang, don’t they?”

“Especially the American ones,” Thomas agreed. “Though I quite like it. It’s odd to watch an entire lexicon evolve.”

“Or devolve, as the case may be.” Alastair's tone was grim.

 A beat passed before he smiled again and, still waltzing closely with Thomas, continued to sing.

And Thomas lost himself in the sound of Alastair’s voice, allowing himself the bliss of not thinking as they swayed together.

And then it began to rain, a sudden drizzle that surprised both of them. Thomas laughed as they looked up at the clouds, the swirling gray illuminating with a sudden shock of lighting. “Well,” Alastair said, “so much for our moonlight sonata.”

“A tragic loss,” Thomas agreed. “Though I can’t really feel sad about it, because I also very much like kissing in the rain.”

“You do bring up a brilliant point,” Alastair agreed. “And my plans are, of course, flexible.” And with that, he moved a hand up onto Thomas’s cheek and pulled him close, their lips meeting under the midnight rainfall. When they finally pulled away, Alastair laughed, his mouth inches from Thomas’s lips as he spoke. “Shall we go continue our dance inside, lest I melt?”

“To the gramophone? I’d prefer not to, actually.”

Alastair smiled at that, a genuine one that lit up his face in the way that no other grin could. Thomas noticed that Alastair never showed that expression around anyone else; it was his and his alone. He wasn’t even sure that Alastair knew that, and the thought made him feel as though he were being given the greatest privilege in all the world.

“I’ll sing,” Alastair said, and they ran inside with laughter on their lips as the storm raged on.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @staywildefairchild @sourlemons262 @belle-keys @coriia @drunkonimagination @alastaircarstairsismybff @vwritesaus @claritywithclary @luciehercndale @what-ho-christopher-put-in @life-through-the-eyes-of @alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @bluewrite @lulusofis @oursoulstheyplay

[cant-think-of-anything]

no other sadness in the world

i had a feeling so peculiar, that this pain would be for - evermore, taylor swift

Have fun

Part One

CW: bullying, physical abuse, arguing, mentions of racism lmk if I missed anything please!

Five days earlier

Risa hadn’t gone to sleep. That made his life significantly more complicated, sneaking past Risa was impossible, she nearly always was able to corner him.

He could see that she noticed his presence from where she was stirring a clay pot. Her clay pot that she had used to teach a much younger Alastair and Cordelia how to cook dessert so they would stop pestering her.

It was difficult keeping secrets from someone who had known him so long, but he'd had experience with years of keeping his sister and mother at an arms length.

"Stop staring from the doorway." Risa said in Persian, her eyebrows arched when she turned. Cordelia would occasionally hint that the two had conspired to make their eyebrows equally as judgemental.

"I'm hadn't meant to." Alastair responded in English. "I'm going out."

"Eat something," was all Risa said, pushing a plate at him.

"I'm not hungry."

"Just as you were not hungry this morning? Eat."

“I... can’t."

“Why not?”

Alastair fell silent and stared out the window, attempting to contruct some sort of excuse. I’m very sorry Risa, I’m unable to eat because I’ve already committed myself to a night of following a man that wants me dead to keep him safe from the same unidentified killer that killed my father.

He wasn’t sure if he could justify it to himself, much less someone else. Thomas was stubborn, he doubted he’d be able to convince him to stop, but he could at least keep him from getting himself killed. The question of why would have to stay unanswered.

He accepted the plate from Risa.

—-

Thomas was staring at Alastair, wishing that words came as easily to him as they seemed to for everyone else around him.

“That- well… you knew that the majority of the Enclave officials would’ve never approved a true investigation on the killer.” He started uncertainly, wondering how much of the truth he should reveal. “As you said any evil is still evil, no one else should have to lose someone to it if it can be stopped.”

Alastair made a noncommittal noise, tilting his head up to meet Thomas's eyes. Unwillingly Thomas's gaze dropped to his neck, where he could see a pulse thrumming in the hollow of his throat. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that Alastair was nervous.

His dark eyes seemed to bore into his own, looking through the feeble lies he'd crafted in a patchwork veil between him and his friends, and see him as if he'd bared his soul. It was unnerving to feel so seen by the one person that he was meant to shut out of his life completely. He suddenly felt desperate to push some words in the space between them, create a rift as a sharp reminder that he shouldn't feel that Alastair's presence grounded him in a way that nothing else did.

“Why did you say that rumor?” The words spilled out in a choked whisper before he could stop them and he winced when he saw Alastair’s expression close off.

“I won’t attempt to justify it Thomas. Don’t expect me to.”

“I don’t want you to justify it, I need you to just tell me why. I’ve been trying to figure it out but I don’t understand it.” The words weren't entirely a lie, but they twisted like a knife in his heart.

Alastair’s tone was painfully stiff when he responded “Asking me would’ve been a good approach. Publicly humiliating me at every opportunity wasn’t.”

Thomas gritted his teeth in frustration, his mind a scrambled mess of indecernable thoughts. "I don't- what was I meant to do?”

Anger simmered in Alastair's eyes, but his lips trembled like he was fighting tears. He didn't say anything. His eyes dropped down to the floor, furiously scanning the stones.

“Tell me Alastair, what was the appropriate response to being told that your- that you had done that? They had told me, that you were cruel, that you were unfeeling and without a heart. I should've believed them sooner."

He turned away, his throat constricted. It felt like there was something burning in his heart, scorching him from the inside. He shifted further away from him.

Alastair's hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back, forcing their eyes to meet. "No. You can't publicly scorn me for months, accuse me of doing every bad deed under the sun and stars and give the entire younger population of this blasted city something to talk about, that something being me. People talk Thomas. And you wanted them to. You want to act as if you and you friends are saints? As if you weren't capable of doing anything cruel? Yes Thomas I'm heartless and unfeeling but you- you aren't the angels you revere yourselves to be."

Thomas stared, his mind struggling to wrap around his words. Guilt and confusion felt as if it was making his throat close up, not allowing him to speak.

Alastair shook his head, closing his eyes. "The year before you came to The Academy was when I started there. Augustus and Clive and their friends had been there a year before me." The effort seemed to be draining him, the hand wrapped around Thomas’s wrist trembled slightly. "I suppose you've heard the rumors of my father at Cordelia's wedding but it was far worse when I was younger. And the rumors about my father eventually turned to rumours of me and to say the least they hadn't taken very kindly to a ... dirty son of a disgraced family. They were vile to you Thomas, but they were far worse when they knew the victim of their scorn had no defenses."

---

November 1898, The Academy

Alastair sat in one of the hallway's windows overlooking the sprawl of trees, thickening into a dense forest.

He could see the faint glimmer of the lake further out. He's walked that far before, often when he had first joined The Academy. He’d thought about running away a lot then. He still did.

But he wasn't looking much at the lake, instead he kept his eyes on the stars. He remembered, years ago, when Cordelia would drag him by the arm out to the terrace with her. The plaits her hair had been braided into coming messily undone as she had excitedly asked him to look at the stars with her.

She'd learned how to stargaze from Elias. Alastair hadn't. Cordelia's logic was easy enough to follow, he thought now, tracing the sharp points of the constellations with his finger pressed against the window.

Cordelia used to send letters. Carefully written cursive that only came from children who were just learning how to write in the proper script. He'd responded eagerly at first. That hadn't lasted long. Breathing in shakily, he wrapped an arm around himself and let his head fall back.

He loved his sister more than he loved the stars, but it was easier to sit there and trace the patterns than try and explain to her why they'd grown apart as much as they had. So instead he sat at his window and played the memories in his mind, a pocket of warmth in the cold corridors.

He winced when his hand pressed lightly over the bruises across his ribs. Bruises. He'd almost become impressed with the way Augustus and his friends cornered him consistently like clockwork.

He wasn't an idiot, he tried to avoid it, switching his schedule, changing rooms, but nothing could keep him out of their grasp.

And as much as Alastair wanted to be brave and endure it, he just wanted it to stop. He was tired. He was always tired. There was never a night he was able to fall asleep under the cover of safety.

The majority of the professors already looked upon him with scorn, for reasons he had been forced to understand, and with his opposers being from influencal English families, he had better luck keeping his head down and locking his bedroom door as tightly as he was able to.

But they never hit above his collar. No one noticed.

---

Present

Alastair was unble to fight the memories that rushed up in his mind as he spoke, every shadow of a bruise or scar on his skin seemed to spark in old pain. His hand unwittingly drifted to his shoulder where a scar still was visible.

"I was terrified," He admitted slowly, fighting the urge to bury every memory in his mind. "I was very quickly made to understand my place in the school. I tried to protect myself in the only way I knew how. I never bloodied my hands but it didn't matter."

When Alastair forced his eyes up, he could see that Thomas's expression was caught somewhere between guilt and horror. He didn’t say anything, twisting his hands together and waited for Alastair to continue.

"When Matthew and you lot blew up the west wing of The Academy, you were trying to get revenge on me." Anger rose as the words began to spill out. He fisted his hands tightly and pushed back the tears of frustration pricking his eyes. "But you destroyed an entire part of the school, I wasn't the only child who lost everything. If you wish to threaten me, and you very clearly have an affection for that, you can find a way to do it without jeapordizing my family's already ruined reputation. My mother's breaking herself trying to ensure we don't face any more hatred than we already have to I just-" Alastair broke off with a shuddering breath, his throat constricting painfully. Suddenly it felt as if all the air in the room had been sucked out. His next words sounded faint and brittle. "I know it must be a crowning achievement among your friends to hurt me, but stop hurting people who did nothing to deserve your anger."

Thomas was staring at him. Perhaps Alastair should've felt satisfaction seeing the stun and horror on his face, but all he felt was hollowness.

Silence fell and neither moved to fill it.

Alastair could feel blood on his hands from digging his nails too hard into his skin. He watched it fall to the paper and stain it dark red. The words bled together. He still didn't speak. It didn't seem like there was anything left to say.

I hope that the pov shifts aren't too confusing, if you have any questions, ask!

Taglist: @spooky-drusilla @thewarthatsavedmylife @eugeniaslongsword @life-through-the-eyes-of @littlx-songbxrd @alice-got-the-blues @thefoxandthefound @the-ethereal-aura @parisakamaali @melanielocke @styxdrawings

[lady-ofroses]

something else to talk about

in which cordelia is an actress, anna is an entrepreneur and the author of a popular lifestyle blog, ariadne is a model and owner of a famous winery, matthew helps write anna’s lifestyle blog and is a highly sought out fashion designer, james is a singer and occasional actor, lucie is a famous author, thomas and alastair both have their own separate talk shows, christopher is bill nye 2.0, jesse is director and producer, and grace is a model

thank you to the wondrous @sleepy-sendhelp​ for helping me come up with this, proofreading, and writing the article! i could not have done it without you!

i’ll update whenever people tell me to because i have no motivation by myself

constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated! 

James twirled a strand of Cordelia’s ruby hair before tucking it behind her ear as Cordelia stared deeply into his shining golden eyes. His arms were wrapped around her waist pulling her towards him. The salty sea air whipped James’s inky black locks all over his face and a wave of ice-cold water splashed all over her legs. The sky above them had become a conglomeration of colors, from blue to purple to red, and orange and yellow blended together creating an explosion of colors. The moon was already visible and a beam of sunlight shone on them from the half-visible setting sun. Cordelia drew her attention back to James as she placed her hands on both sides of his neck. James began to lean down as Cordelia began to go on her tip-toes to meet him halfway-

“-CUT” interrupted a voice from behind them and Cordelia was snapped out of character as she and James quickly jumped apart. They had been trying to shoot that final scene for the past hour as the sun continued to set past the horizon. Cordelia looked up and saw that only a sliver of the sun remained.

“What is it now Jesse? Are James’s hands on the wrong part of Cordelia’s waist? Oh wait, are Cordelia’s arms supposed to wrap around James’s neck? We were just about to get the scene after over four days of working on this scene!” Lucie, the author of the book they were adapting, and James’s younger sister, said exasperatedly.

“No! It’s the sun. It’s already set too far and the book specifically says that you could still see over half of the sun. If we want to adapt the book into movie form properly we have to do it right. Though, now that you say it, James’s arms were all wrong. I mean, come on man! You’re not hugging her waist, you’re holding her lovingly in your arms as you kiss her,” Jesse, the director, and co-producer of the film, sighed, “Alright everyone, you can go home now. We’ll finish it tomorrow.” He sighed again and rubbed his temples

Cordelia drew her gaze back over to James and saw his mask slip back on. Ever since he had broken up with Grace Cartwright, a famous super-model, it seemed as if James was acting all the time. All of the gossip magazines were relishing in the breakup and wondering who was going to win the race to finding someone new to date. The stress was part of what had caused them to have to redo the scene over and over again.

The sound of Lucie and Jesse all too familiar bickering had stopped and Cordelia turned over to them to see what was going on. Jesse and Lucie’s arguments usually lasted a good half hour so something must have happened. A member of the crew, Chelsea, was pointing at her phone with an anxious expression as Jesse looked over at Cordelia with concern clouding his jade green eyes. Cordelia tilted her head quizzically and made her way over to Jesse and Chelsea to take a look at Chelsea’s phone.

“What’s going on?” Cordelia asked brightly, as she tried not to overthink what their grim expressions meant.

“Cordelia,” Jesse started, “Your father just checked into rehab.”

“Wh-What do you mean? My father isn’t in rehab, he’s with my mom at a couples cruise...” Cordelia trailed off as she caught a glimpse of Chelsea’s phone. An article title Like Father Like Daughter? by Rosamund Wentworth from The Scoop was displayed on the screen. She snatched Chelsea’s phone and began scrolling down.

A tasty scoop has been served right on our plates! Last Friday, there have been sightings of Elias Carstairs entering the Silent City Rehab Center just right after sunset, wearing a mask and a pair of sunglasses. It was almost like he didn’t want to be seen. Given his children’s fame, it was a sound decision, albeit a vain one. 

Elias, father to small screen staple talk show host Alastair Carstairs and silver screen darling Cordelia Carstairs, has had a known history of alcohol abuse — though it has been allegedly remedied before any of his children stepped into the spotlight. 

The long-time rumor of Elias Carstairs never recovering from his addiction has been spreading around with more gusto, and more netizens sharing accounts of running across the man who looked disheveled and horribly inebriated long before the photo has broken through the news.

Is Alastair’s so-called ‘witty’ approach on “Because I Want To Talk” a genius and unique take on the usual bland and overused hosting personality native to late-night talk shows? Or does his ‘sharp attitude’ run deeper than an overrated average host’s charm? How excellent of an actress really is Cordelia? Perhaps to the point of adopting the fictitious ‘Beautiful Cordelia’s’ personality off the set in an attempt to hide a shameful family secret? 

The Carstairs family’s talent in covering up scandals, begs us to question, what other scandals has this family covered up?

Our hardworking, and sober, team at The Scoop will be doing our best to uncover all the answers to these questions. Stick around and subscribe to our newsletter for all the latest and tastiest scoops you’ll ever want in Hollywood, L.A.

Cordelia looked over at Jesse in disbelief. Her father was sick, he wasn’t an alcoholic. And if he was, surely someone would’ve told her. But then Cordelia remembered the beer bottles that were all too familiar from her childhood. The broken promises and the smell of alcohol that seemed to always come from her father. How Alastair always seemed irritated whenever Sona told them that their father was ill. Had they been covering it up this whole time? But for what reason? Cordelia wasn’t a child anymore, she had a job and she certainly understood what being an alcoholic meant.

“Daisy I just heard the news,” Lucie exclaimed as she dragged Cordelia back into the real world and wrapped her arms around her neck to hug her, “Are you alright? Do you need some time off?” 

“No I’m fine,” Cordelia said, determined not to let her voice waver. She had to appear strong in front of her friend. Lucie already had a lot to worry about with the adaptation and writing the seventh book of the series.

“You don’t seem fine to me. And don’t think that I didn’t hear your voice falter. You might be a professional actress but I am a professional best friend,” Lucie said, skeptically as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m just thinking of all the things I have to do,” Cordelia lied, “You know, with the movie and all that. I also promised Alas that I’d talk to him today.”

"Okay...okay. I know you're lying but I'll let it slide. But just this once. If writing and reading books have taught me anything it's that communication is key for any successful relationship."

"Thanks, Luce, I swear I just have a lot on my mind. I promise I'll talk to you later.”

“Just... call me tomorrow,” Lucie said tentatively. “Love you, Daisy” she added as she tightened her arms around Cordelia.

”Love you too, Luce. And I promise I will,” and with that, Lucie detached her arms from around her and let her go home.

***

Cordelia jabbed her key into the hole and turned the key counterclockwise to unlock the door to her penthouse suite. She hadn’t been living there long but thanks to Lucie, it already felt like home. The living room was massive, with a white couch in the middle facing the TV. In between them, Cordelia had put a wooden coffee table. She had decorated it with a vase of magenta dahlias. To the right of the living room, there was a kitchen. Cordelia rarely used it as she was an abominable chef. She could scramble eggs and make tea and coffee but that was the extent of her abilities. 

Cordelia dropped her keys on top of the coffee table and grabbed her phone to call Alastair. She was pretty sure that he had been keeping up with the news so hopefully, he had a plan with how to deal with the rumors. 

“Hello Cordelia,” came Alastair’s voice from inside her phone, “I’m sure you’ve heard the news.”

“Of course I have, it’s everywhere,” she replied sharply. She didn’t understand how he could be so calm. “Do you have any ideas on what we should do?”

“Just act normal Layla. The press is looking for a reaction from you and you shouldn’t let them distract you from your movie.”

“Oh no,” Cordelia said weakly as realization struck her, “Oh no.”

“What is it, Layla?” Alastair inquired.

“The movie. With the news about Baba, the release for the movie is going to be ruined.”

“I highly doubt that Layla. But, if it makes you feel better, why don’t you go see Fairchild and Anna Lightwood. They should know how to fix this, they know everything about the media and how to manipulate it.”

“Did you know, about Baba’s... condition?” she asked quietly.

“Of course I did Layla. Who do you think helped him hide it for so long?” he replied, dryly, “I have to go, Layla, the producers are asking for me. Let me know if you find anything else out that could help us,” and with that Alastair ended the call.

Cordelia was still taken aback by Alastair’s confession. How could he have hidden this from me for so long? How long had he been trying to piece together the broken parts of their family? She didn’t have time to dwell on that, all she could do is brace for impact because her father’s latest scandal wasn’t going to make things easy for her.

***

Making her way to Anna’s flat was a trip she had made many times and thank god for that. The only reason that her half-dazed state hadn’t caused her to take a wrong turn was that the directions were so ingrained in her brain that she could never forget. Matthew was usually at Anna’s at night getting ready for a party so instead of waiting till morning, Cordelia figured that she should go see them together. After parking her car and locking it, she used the keys Anna had given her to get into the building. 

After moving in, Anna had donated an absurd amount of money to get the entire building renovated. She had insisted, saying that the building that her apartment was located in had to have the same amount of class that she did, which was a lot. The entire building had been redone with white tiled floors and windows. Another elevator had been installed as well and new balconies were added.

Cordelia decided to take the stairs after seeing that the two elevators were currently being used. Anna also had a penthouse apartment and after climbing what seemed to be a million flights of stairs Cordelia finally made it to Anna’s. The door was decorated with a sign that read “Chez Anna”. Matthew had given it to her after he came back from Paris. Cordelia raised her hand to knock on the door but was startled by the sudden opening of the door.

Anna Lightwood stood in front of her, immaculately dressed in an expensive three-piece suit with golden embroidery on the sleeves. Her gleaming ruby necklace sat at the base of her throat. 

“I suppose you’re here because of the news,” Anna surmised, her arm hanging lazily on the top of the open door, “Come on in Delia.”

Cordelia quickly stepped in, being careful to stomp on the mat next to the door as she took off her shoes. She quietly shuffled into the living room to see Matthew lounging on the black leather couch. Anna trailed behind her and then sat on the opposite matching armchair. She signaled for Cordelia to sit on the other armchair in between them.

“Well I’m sure you’ve heard the news already,” Cordelia said as she tensely sat down. “About my father.”

“Yes we have,” Matthew replied, scrunching up his nose, “I can’t believe that terrible Rosamund Wentworth just sticking her nose in others businesses. I mean ‘Perhaps to the point of adopting the fictitious ‘Beautiful Cordelia’s’ personality off the set in an attempt to hide a shameful family secret’ who does this lady think she is? The Beautiful Cordelia is based on you, of course, you act like her.”

“Don’t worry Delia, this will all blow over in a month or so,” Anna reassured as she took a sip of her drink. 

“But the movie,” Cordelia said worriedly burying her face in her hand, “It’s coming out soon. What if this causes ticket sales to flop? And if it does, it’ll all be my fault.”

“Well you do know how things are with the media, once something else happens that interests people, nobody will think about your father,” Matthew paused, taking a sip of his drink, “You just have to give them... something else to talk about.”

“Perhaps bringing light to another scandal, or maybe a new lover for you. It has been a while since you dated and the public will surely go crazy,” Anna suggested.

Cordelia stared at Anna, puzzled. Cordelia didn’t want to ruin someone’s life with a scandal to save herself so she thought about that second option. “Who could I date? I mean, there is no shortage of eligible bachelors in town but I don’t really want a real relationship. And besides, with my family’s reputation ruined as much as it is right now, who would want to date me? I mean, who would be that desperate for publicity that they would fake date me?”

But that was when it hit her, she did know someone that needed to get into a relationship soon and someone that was equally invested in ticket sales for the movie that they would surely jump at the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. She stood abruptly. The haze of her realization still clouding her mind. The only thing that mattered to her at that moment was getting the ticket sales back on track. 

Cordelia meditated on her options one more time. She needed to be sure about what she was about to commit to and sure that this would solve her problem. She knew that Anna and Matthew were the best in turning around stories in gossip blogs to suit themselves best. She knew what she had to do.

“I figured it out! Thank you both so so much! I have to go but, if all goes to plan, you’ll see me and my new boyfriend on all of the headlines,” she said, acting more excited than she actually was to help cover up the overwhelming anxiety that she was feeling. She began rushing out, leaving Anna and Matthew looking absolutely dumbfounded as she dashed out of the apartment. 

Cordelia made her way over to her car and drove to a familiar location. She had been there many times to go over scenes and to see Lucie. As soon as she saw the familiar shape of James’s apartment building. She parked in front of it and took the elevator up. 

She stared at it for a second, trying to think of another solution, something that wouldn’t affect her personal life as much as this would. But she knew that this was the only way. If she wanted to save the movie, and her career as an actress, she had to distract the public from the truth. 

As soon as she reached his penthouse, she braced herself for the effects of her request. This was her last chance to turn back. To try and find something else to do. But if she didn’t do this her career would be damned and she would forever know that she was a coward. She was Cordelia Katāyoun Carstairs, and she was not a coward. 

She raised her hand to the door and knocked.

ok so that is the first chapter. as i said before constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. please please please let me know what you think and please let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

[laylax13s]

Jigsaw

TW/CW : violence, mention of manipulation/abuse (its gonna be fluffy i promise)

and then we got the casual things : mention of sex, implied sexual content, mild smut lol (only if you squint thoughxd)

Enjoy! <3

Chapter 3 : Training Wheels

It was almost two weeks since Alastair first visited the Lightwood house. Thence, he spent nearly every day and night there. Mostly because he was afraid that Charles was going to come and visit, but he also wanted to be with Thomas, and the boy said he can stay there as long as he wishes. And the younger also wanted to protect him so badly, even if Alastair went home, he followed him, and stayed the night. The boy said it's because if Charles would come by, he doesn't want Alastair to have to deal with this alone. Though, the reason was sad, Alastair liked it. He liked that they were with each other 24/24, and liked the feeling of safety, and that Thomas was there to protect him any moment.

Right now he was at the Lightwoods's, and drinking his morning coffee, that Thomas brought him to bed. The other was always joking with how he could drink this, but Alastair just giggled at it. He was leaning on the back of the bed, cross-legged, and tucked under a blanket (as the other insisted), and Thomas was sitting across him, in the end of the bed, watching the dark eyed boy drink his coffee, but this time in silence.

"You know you're beautiful, right?" Thomas said, breaking the silence, and Alastair had to hide his smile behind his cup. He slightly blushed too, but the cup wasn't big enough to hide that, so the other noticed, and (of course) smirked. "Sorry, I have to correct myself. You are absolutely gorgeous."

This time Alastair bit his lip, and looked down, trying not to laugh. Then looked back up, and into the other boys eyes. "You know if you do not stop that I will have to kiss you?" he said, with a voice entirely serious. Thomas grinned at him, then said "You know you look adorable when you drink coffee, and forget to wipe your lips." Alastair gave him a warning look, but the other continued.

"I think I have never saw anyone looking more stunning in just a nightshirt." Alastair blushed again and shook his head, now not even trying to hide his grin. "Maybe you would look even more stunning without-" but the boy couldn't finish his sentence, because after setting down his coffee on the nightstand, he jumped on Thomas, silencing him with a kiss, giggling in it. Thomas brought his hands around the older boys waist, and pulled him impossibbly close. The latter wrapped his arms around Thomas's neck, and with one hand tangled his fingers in his hair. The mentioned brought his hands from Alastairs waist, to his thighs. Then Alastair pulled away, still sitting in his lap, knees on each side of the others hip.

"We have to go downstairs for breakfast, or Eugenia will teas us about this forever." he said, while still playing with the others hair.

"Not like she doesn't already..." Thomas said, in an annoyed voice, speeking about his sister. Alastair just chuckled, because it was true. Every morning when they came down, she was already laughing. First day, she started asking questions, and after a while she just gave them 'the look', or wiggled her eyebrows. It was quite ridiculous, but also really embarrassing. Sophie and Gideon were similar too, but they usually just gave them an 'all knowing' look, only parents could give. Except when one morning, Thomas went down for Alastairs coffee, while he was still sleeping, but Gideon was already up, unfortunately. As soon as he came down he bursted the poor boy with questions about Alastair, and what was going on. He just grabbed the coffee and rushed up as quickly as he could, without a word, but he could hear his father was still shouting after him. Sophie didn't really bother them, she just gave them looks, and sometimes chuckled when they were late to any meal. Though, they didn't mind Alastair around at all, which was surprising for him. He was always afraid he was a burden, so after hours of convincing Thomas so that they would go to Cornwall Gardens, he finally agreed, and spent three days there. But after that, Alastair gathered the things he needed from his room, and left to the Lightwoods for an undecided time.

After some time they decided to go down for breakfast, after getting dressed properly. They walked down the stairs hand in hand, and they earned a whistle from Eugenia for that. Her parents gave her a warning look. "Eugenia! behave." Sophie said, but she was trying to hide a smile herself. Gideon was disguising a laugh as a cough, but it was pretty obvious from the grin on his face. The three of them were already sitting at the table, and started their meal. Alastair blushed a little, but was used to it by now. Thomas just rolled his eyes and sat opposite of Eugenia, Alastair settling beside him. They both took a toast, and Alastair drunk from his cup he brought down, as the younger boys sister started talking "So, Al," (she started calling him like that after only two days) "Do you like Thomas's bed better, or the guest bed?" he spat out the coffee (luckily back in the cup), and Sophie scolded her again.

"Eugenia! Stop vexing the boys!" Thomas gave a thankful look to his mother for this. Alastair just looked at his plate, trying to hide his blush.

"What?" the girl shrugged, "We all noticed that he's sleeping in Thomas's bedroom." she said matter of factly, but it seems their parents didn't know, because they looked shocked. Thomas gave his sister the 'I will be dealing with you later' look, and Alastair started sipping his coffee again, hiding his face behind the cup.

"So...Darling could we talk after breakfast?" Sophie asked, in a gentle voice, after clearling her throat.

"Mom, can we not?" the women looked confused then smiled.

"Honey, I was talking to Alastair." the boy was shocked. In a good way, though. Thomas's mother called him darling. That was...shocking, and so sweet he felt like crying. But Thomas was shocked too, in a bad way.

"MOM! No!" he stood up and took the other boys hand, while Sophie was trying to say something, "And we are going upstairs, and after that, we are leaving for patrol. Goodbye." Thomas said, and rushed out of the room, taking Alastair with him.

"Boys wait! We have to talk about this" Sophie called, hoping they will turn back, but Thomas just runned faster, until he reached the stairs, making sure he wasn't dragging Alastair.

"Use condoms!" Eugenia shouted cheerfully, "Wooooooh" she finished with. "Eugenia!" they heard Sophie scold her, and Gideon laughing, as they rushed up the stairs.

As soon as they closed the door of the younger boys room, Alastair couldn't contain his laughter anymore. Thomas looked at him with fake betrayal, and shook his head. "Not funny." this just made him laugh harder, and he doubled over as he did, "Stop. My family is a nightmare. I am serious." he said, but couldn't fight back a smile himself. The older boy took a deep breath, trying to stop the laughter, but he was still snickering. Alastair sighed after he was done.

"By the Angel, your sister is hilarious!" seeing the look on the others face, he changed his sentence, "Yes, she is really annoying, but also really hilarious! I am sorry, but I don't make the rules. You secretly agree with me anyways, I know it." he said, determined. Thomas shook his head again and let out a small laugh, "You are awful...And conspirating against me with my own sister...dreadful..." Alastairs jaw dropped, but was smiling, "Me?" the other nodded, and was now smirking "Mhmm" it was Alastairs turn to shake his head. "Unbelievable..." Thomas chuckled, and leaned against the door with crossed arms. "Though, seriously. I am sorry about my family being like that, I know they can be a little too much sometimes." Alastair raised his eyebrows, then stepped closer to lace his fingers around Thomas's neck, "Thomas. They literally let me live here for almost two weeks now, and I think they are amazing people. I love them" the younger smiled at that, and un-crossed his arms to put them around the olders torso. "I am glad you like them, but remember that your mother let me stay at your house for three days too." he said, and layed his forehead against Alastairs. The latter tilted his head up to kiss him, then pulled him closer, to deepen the kiss.

After a moment they pulled away, but only a few inches for air. Then layed their foreheads together again. "I love you." Thomas wispered and Alastair stiffened. He didn't even breath. The taller pulled back a little, to look at the others face. He looked shocked. He was shocked. No one ever... Charles never... Was this even real? How could he actually love him? Wait, maybe he just imagined it.

"What?" Alastair whispered slowly, still not out of his shock.

"Did I say something wrong?" Thomas asked carefully. Alastair couldn't decide which of Thomas's eyes to look at.

"...Did you just- ?" he didn't finish the sentence, afraid that he heard it wrong, and humilaiting himself. Thomas looked a little concerened at him.

"...I did? Do you not- ? I mean, it is okay if you do not, I just-" he was silenced by Alastair kissing him again. He felt his eyes welling up. But not from sorrow, no. He was happy, so happy. No one ever...

Then he pulled back, and looked in Thomas's eyes. "No one ever said that, aside from my sister." the other furrowed his brows at that, and Alastair knew what he was going to ask. "But Charles-" Alastair shook his head.

"He never said it. I do not know if because he didn't love me, or for other reasons, but he never would dare say it." Thomas was even more confused now.

"But weren't you together for three years?"Alastair nodded, "Four, but I do not want to talk about him now." the other nodded, but still had a questioning look on his face. "And do you- ?" the dark eyed boy chuckled, "Of course I do, why would have I kissed you then two weeks ago in the first place?" the younger opened his mouth then closed it, when Alastair put his index finger on it to silence him. "Before you say anything, I have to. I love you, Thomas Lightwood, and please do not ever think otherwise. Yes?" Thomas smiled and nodded.

"Now, kiss me, will you?" Alastair said, and Thomas chuckled, then leaned down.

"I know, but I cannot stay here forever!" Alastair argued, but was not actually angry. "Yes, but until that asshole dies, you can." the dark eyed boy shook his head, and continued packing his rucksack. As Alastair scanned the room for his clothes, and occaisonally picked one up, Thomas sat on the edge of his bed, trying to convince the latter to stay.

"You know, I will have to go to Enclave meetings too, and he is acting as Consul, so I have no other choice, than face him." Thomas looked like he was about to go and shoot someone, just for fun.

"He should be in one of the cells of the Silent City, not acting as CONSUL!" he said the last word with such force, and ridicule, like he couldn't even believe his own words.

"Well, I know, but it is not that way, and it will never be." the boy finally found all his belongings, and zipped up his backpack.

"This is not fair. How could he justify something when he-" he cut himself off, unable to say it. Alastair slowly started to walked towards him, and stopped in front of him, putting one of his hands in the others hair, playing with it.

"I know. But arguing about it will not do anything. I have to tell him that we are no more, and finally draw an end to this." Thomas took Alastairs hand that was not in his hair, and started drawing samples on it. "I will not leave you alone with that lunatic..."

"And you don't have to! You can...watch from distance?" It was more of a question, and Thomas gave him an 'are you serious?' look. Alastair did not want this either, but it had to be done. In fact, Alastair wanted Thomas there, but didn't want Charles to think he brought him as 'protection'. Even though it would be true. He got nausea only from the thought of seeing his former lover, but things had to be done, even though he hated it, and knew Thomas hated it even more.

"No ways. I will certainly not let him even say anything to you, that might hurt you. And what if he might try to hurt you physicaly, and I will be too far away? Then what? There is no way you're doing this alone, or even with me in 'distance'. I am going to be there all along, and if he tries anything I swear-" Alastair snorted.

"You know you can not kill him? They will find the body, and I will be the suspect, of course." he rolled his eyes, and Thomas took his other hand too, then looked in his eyes.

"Promise me, you will let me be there with you all along, and will not believe anything he says." Alastair gave him a gentle half smile, then leaned down for a little peck on his lips.

"I promise. And, you can stay with me afterwards." he offered. Thomas nodded, then yanked Alastair on top of him, as he leaned back on the bed and kissed the boy.

It was about 4pm when they were walking towards the Institute, because that was the place they agreed on talking to Charles with. Alastair was the most anxious he ever was, or could be, he thought. Why was he going to talk to him, again? This was piontless. Charles never did, and was never going to listen to him. He never did to anyone, anytime, so why would he now? And besides, Thomas was here with him, so it was going to be a miracle if he could stop a fight from breaking out. But it was going to be fine, he told himself. No, it was not.

They finally arrived, and Thomas started looking around with furrowed brows. Alastair could tell he was already upset, but who could blame him? One was not so happy when having to meet his partners abusive former lover. They spotted Charles leaning against a tree, cross armed, and not in his best mood. The hazel eyed boy gave him the death glare, and Alastair took hold of his hand, searching for eye contact. The other looked down at him and sighed. They started walking towards the elder man, who was looking confused at their hands, laced together. The dark eyed boy just took a deep breath, and put on his most confident look, while the hazel eyed was looking like he might jump at the man in any second to cut his throat up. The green eyed man uncrossed his arms, and started walking towards them, and stopped at an arms length. They didn't let go of each other.

"Lightwood. What a surprise, I must say. What are you doing her?" He asked in a fake polite voice, nearly spitting his family name out. The mentioned didn't try to cover how much hate he felt towards the other man.

"I am here to, you know, make sure you behave." he answered, and finished with a sarcastic smile, which was gone from his face after a moment. Charles snorted, what was very unlike him, but then gave back the death glare. Oh, hell no. This was not going to end well...

The man then looked at Alastair who started panicking, but Thomas squeezed his hand, reminding him he was not alone, and he relaxed a little.

"You called for me, Alastair. What did you want to talk about? In public." the man raised his eyebrows as he said the last sentence. The mentioned boy took another deep breath, it was so hard to say it.

"Charles. Anything that was between us, is now over. Do not come to my house ever again, and do not send me any letters. In fact, avoid any contact, because I will ignore it anyways." he said, as certainly as he managed. The man looked at him sharply, like his glare could kill, and suddenly Alastair lost all his confidence, feeling powerless. He just realised he was no longer holding Thomas's hand, and he felt empty without it.

"No. You cannot." Alastairs eyes widened, and he now felt afraid. He knew Thomas was clenching his jaw, and his hands were in fists, without looking at him.

"What?" the dark eyed boy asked, in such a tiny voice, it was nearly just a wisper.

"Oh, you heard me perfectly. You can not say that, you will-" but the man was cut off by the youngest boy, stepping closer.

"You have no rights to tell him what he can say or do. You do not own him. Alastair does as he wishes." Charles snorted again, then looked at his former lover, contemptuosly.

"Only a coward brings someone to talk with their lover to save them."

"Only an asshole puts someone in a situation where they need to be saved. And you are not my lover anymore." Alastair said, regaining some of his confidence. Thomas looked proudly at him, and ducked his head to hide the smile spreading on his face.

"Now, if you will excuse us," Alastair said, and turned around, ready to walk away. Thomas followed him, but he felt someone grab his arm, yanking him back. Alastair gasped in pain, as he nearly stumbled to the ground, but the person scrambled him to his feet by the grip. He saw that this person was Charles, and felt a certain déjá vu. Thomas already jumped in and grabbed the arm that was holding Alastair, and ripped it off the other.

"Don't you dare ever touch him again." he said in a harsh tone, stepping closer to the man.

"It's not like you can tell me." he then looked between Alastair and Thomas, and turned back to the latter. "Oh, I see. Alastair went to you to complain. I wonder how much he cried...He always does. Pathetic. You know it is truly really easy to hurt him-" he was cut off, because Thomas was already punching him, right in the face. Charles fell to the ground, and Thomas knelt beside him, pulling him up by his front collar and punching him again, and again. Alastair was frozen. He couldn't move. Wh- Did his lover just knock his ex to the ground? Well, that was what he saw, so, yes.

When he came out of his unconsciousness, Charles was already bleeding, and so were the others knuckles. Oh god, he had to stop this. Thomas was going to kill the man if he won't intervene. Though, he couldn't lie, he did enjoy it in the begginning. But now Charles was loosing a lot of blood, and his ugly little face was all screwed up. They had to call the silent brothers, this was not something an iratze could fix. Alastair rushed to were they were laying in the grass, under the tree only some minutes ago Charles was leaning to. It was a little ironic, though.

"Thomas- Thomas stop! You're killing him!" he grabbed the hand the boy was using to hit Charles. Thomas immediately stopped, and looked up at Alastair. Now he could see the mans face, it was making him quite nauseous. He was already passed out. he looked back at Thomas with wide eyes from shock.

"We have to call the silent brothers." Thomas was confused, then he looked on what he just did, and his eyes widened too. The boy looked down at his hands, and had an even more dazed expression. Thomas nodded, and took out his stele. First he drew a heeling rune on his hands, then after a moment of hesitation, a blood replacement rune on Charles. The other still didn't wake up. Alastair sucked in a breath. What if he doesn't wake up... Did Thomas kill him? No, no. He chased that thought away quickly, and instead looked at the other.

"Thomas- What do we do? We can not just carry him to the Silent City, it is too far away!" the boy was still drawing runes on the other man, but nodded in agreement.

"We can take him to the Tavern, or the Institute, and then send for Jem." Well, maybe, but it might be too late. He shook his head, even if the other wasn't looking at him.

"No, that will be too late. We have to split up." at that Thomas looked up, "You take Charles to the Institute, and I will call for Brother Zakariach." he hesitated before nodding, and had a questioning look on his face.

"But what-" Alastair already knew what he was going to ask, so preceded him in it.

"Say that we were patroling, and there was a demon attack." Thomas raised his eyebrows.

"They wouldn't believe it. I mean, he has no ichor on him, and he is not even in gear." Alastair was about to say that maybe the demon just knocked him over, but Thomas already continued, "And I would not lie. Even if I'd try to, I'm a terrible liar." They looked at each other for a moment, but they both knew what was going to happen. They had to tell, and Thomas would get arrested. But Alastair couldn't let that happen. Charles was provoking Thomas, and Thomas was just defending Alastair, and he totally deserved it. This was not fair, if the Clave knew- wait.

"Thomas, I have an idea. We can tell the Clave it was self defense, because he tried to hurt me, and Charles could not say otherwise, because I will blackmail him, that if he doesn't say this, I will tell about our affair, and what he did. He would never let that happen." Thomas seemed to think for a second, but as soon as Alastair finished, Charles started moving a little, and opened his eyes, as much as he could. The too boys looked at each other in shock, and started mouthing words, so the other doesn't hear.

'what do we do?' Alastair mouthed, gesturing at the man. Thomas shrugged. 'we can not move him like this anymore! we should have done it until he was passed out...' the boy continued. As if it being a key in the others head, Thomas's eyes widened, and took out his stele again. Alastair first didn't understand what he was doing, until he saw the rune. Charles made a little noise as he felt the stele's burn, but then fell back to his fainting condition.

"Somnus rune. It knocked him out." The hazel eyed boy explained. Alastair grinned at Thomas, as the latter put his stele away.

"So, we do not have to call the silent brothers, after all. Smart." Thomas blushed, which was adorable, but they had more important things to do than flirting. "You will carry him, though." the younger nodded in his surrender, albeit, he didn't really look like he was enjoying his task.

About half an hour later, they were at the Institute, trying to sneek up Charles to one of the empty rooms. Unfortunately, they weren't in luck. Matthew was wondering about, humming some melody, in an awful tune. They all stiffened as they saw each other. Matthews jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. Everyone was in an absolute shock. Thomas nearly dropped Charles, and Alastair had to clap a hand on his mouth to not scream. At last, it was Matthew who spoke.

"Okay, WHAT did you do to my brother?!" he cried. The other two looked at each other, in hope that the other will come up with something. Well, they did not.

"Matthew, calm down please. We can talk about this, just be quiet, and follow us." Thomas said, surprisingly calmly. The green eyed boy opened his mouth to say something, but seeing their expressions closed it. Thomas started to one of the empty rooms, and the others followed him in. This went also surprisingly good. The youngest boy didn't say a word, even when Thomas placed Charles on the bed, and started drawing heeling runes on him, and some more blood replacements too. When the boy finally put his stele away, and looked up, was when the other bursted out.

"You two. Explain. Now." The mentioned boys looked at each other again, and made a silent agreement on telling Matthew the truth. Thomas raised his eyebrows saying 'shall I?', and Alastair shook his head saying 'no, it is fine'. Matthew just gave them an odd look for that, and eyed Alastair suspiciously. The latter took a deep breath, and decided to start from the beginning.

"I was fourteen when I first met your brother. It was at the academy, and we didn't really took notice of each other. But a year later, I visited Paris, and in that time, he was leading the Paris Institute, as you know..." he thought for a moment about how to tell this, "We were friends at first, but then we got involved in a... romantical relationship... I was fithteen then, and didn't know how a relationship worked, so he took advantage of that, and of me." Alastair stopped to clear his throat, and think. "He was manipulating me, ever since I met him, and abusing me, in all sort of ways. Then after one of our fights, I told Thomas about us, though not on purpose. He said bad things at Charles, and I was angry at him too, but was afraid of showing it, so instead scolded Thomas for trying to tell me how toxic our relationship was. Then the next day, I decided to tell Charles about it, and he got really angry." he swallowed, because he suddenly felt the familiar feeling in his throat. "He hurt me, not just emotionally, and I could not bear it anymore. So I left to Thomas, and he saw the bruise on my arm, so he got really angry at Charles for hurting me, and we decided it was better I stay at the Lightwoods for some time, in case he would want to visit me. I stayed there for nearly two weeks, then wrote to Charles so I could finally end this, and that we should talk in person. We have gone to this park, not so far away from here, and, well he got angry again. Thomas wanted to defend me, but Charles was provocating him, and they got in a fight. I stopped them, and we draw blood replacement runes on him, while deciding where to go. But he woke up so Thomas had to knock him out again (this time with a rune though). And that is how we got here."

When he finally looked up, he could only see Matthews hair, because he threw himself at the older boy to hug him, really tight. Alastair was shocked, but slowly put his arms around the other too. Matthew wispered to him, muffled by Alastairs shoulder, "I am so so sorry this happened to you. My brother deserved this, and would have deserved way more than that." he could hear in the boys voice that he was trying to keep himself from crying. They slowly pulled away, but the green eyed boy stayed next to Alastair, wiping at his eyes. He was surprised Matthew cared about him, and even was touched by the story. Alastairs story.

"What will we do with him?" now Matthew asked in a tone Thomas could hear too, and gestured towards his brother. Thomas was leaning against the wall, next to the bed, and was smiling at them warmly.

"Well, the Somnus rune will stay for at least another two-to-three hours, so until we can try to give more Iratzes, but if you don't mind," he said looking at Matthew, "I would leave some cuts for him, as a reminder." he finished with a hard gaze, thinking what he wanted the man to be reminded about. Matthew nodded, and added "And some bruises as well, he deserves it. If it really hurts he can always use his stele." he said casually, shrugging. Alastair nodded in agreement. He looked at Thomas, silently communicating with him. 'do you want to talk with your friend?' he asked, 'no, I will tell him to go.' Thomas responded, then looked at the mentioned.

"Matth, you have to promise not to tell, you know that? Not even James. Or Kit. Or Lucie." the boy hesitated for a moment, then looked at Alastair, who had a hopeful gaze on him, and nodded.

"Tell me when he wakes up, I will want to speak with him. Otherwise, I have nothing else to do here. Goodbye Thomas, Alastair." with a last look at the both of them, he walked out of the room. Alastair strolled over to Thomas, and leaned against him. The other put his arms around him, and was rubbing circles on his back to calm him. It really was calming, and being in the other boys arms made him feel safe. He sighed when turning his head to the still unconscious Charles.

"You know that he will remember it?" Alastair said, and Thomas sighed too.

"Yes, but what will he do? He doesn't want to reveal his sexual orientation, so we can always complete your plan, even though I do not like the idea of blackmail." the boy thought for a moment, then continued, "Though he deserves it, so yes, let's do that." Alastair chuckled and looked up at Thomas, smiling at him.

"Whatever. I don't really care what he does, I will be with you, and that is all what matters." then he stood on tiptoe, but Thomas still had to lean down to kiss him. They were both smiling in the kiss, and it was so sweet and soft, he giggled. Thomas pulled away for air, but their were still just inches between them. An idea came to his mind and bit his lip before grinning.

"How much time is it until the Somnus runes effect will pass?" he asked in an innocent tone, and Thomas grinned, understanding what he was thinking about.

"Hmm...at least 2 hours..." the boy answered while leaning down to kiss him. Alastair pulled away, giggling as he took the others hand, and directed him out the room, and to one of the other unoccupied ones. They closed the door, and started kissing again. The shorter dragged the taller to the bed, until Thomas was leaning over him. He was still smiling, and so was the other. The hazel eyed boy pulled a few inches away, looking in the dark eyed boys eyes.

"You know that James and the whole Herondale family is here, including Matthew, right?" Alastair rolled his eyes, then grinned again, now not so innocently.

"We'll make sure to be quiet." he said, and dug his fingers in the others hair. The latter kissed him again, and started unbuttoning Alastairs waistcoat.

An hour and a half later, they decided it was time to leave the room, in case someone would want to come in, or Charles had woken up. Turns out, they were right. Well, not about the former, but about the latter. When they entered the room they left the man in, he was already waking up. He furrowed his brows when seeing where he was, but hissed in pain. They did, in fact, leave a few cuts, so that he remembers what happened, and why it happened. Alastair nearly smirked, but held himslef back.

"Where am I?" the man asked in an icy tone.

"The Institute." Thomas answered, and looked at him with a motionless face, but if you watch him for a minute, you could see it was full of hate and digust. The mentioned boy was with crossed arms, clearly holding himself back from punching the man again. Alastair was closer to the end of the bed, and with folded hands in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers. Charles was focusing on Thomas completely. But the boy didn't look away, he didn't even blink, just gave back the same glare. Alastair felt proudness wash over him, saying 'that is my man', and smirked to himself, tilting his chin up.

"I am going to talk with Alastair in private, if you do not mind." he said, still directing it to Thomas.

"Well, the thing is, I do mind. Though, I think you should first ask him." the boy answerd, still in a harsh tone. The older man snorted.

"He doesn't know what he wants, and so don't you. He is just a child, who does not know what he is doing, and I need to speak with him. Get out." Thomas was now showing his emotions clearly, not trying to hide how much hatred he felt towards the man.

"I thought it was clear by now to you, not to speak that way about Alastair." he said, reminding him of what happened just a few hours ago. The mans mouth twitched, evidently knowing what Thomas was talking about.

"Why, because you sometimes sleep with him?" he asked, but he was sayng it like it was more of a fact than a question. Thomas's hands were in fists now, but he held himself back, still not moving his gaze from the other man.

"No, because you do not have the rights to speak to him like that, and because if you dare to, I will punch you again, and this time I will not stop." Charles grimaced, and then looked at Alastair, but as soon as he did so, the boy lost all his confidence. The mans gaze still crushed him, and made him feel weak. But he held up his chin, not showing it. The man opened his mouth to speak, but Alastair preceded him in it.

"If you feel like the pain is 'intolerable', we left your stele in your jacket. Do not ask me to talk to you, I do not care what you have to say. I'm with Thomas, and always will be. You can hide yourself as much as you want, and abuse yourself if you wish to do so, but I will not be part of it. You can not drag me in the shadows with you, and misuse me with my inexperience and age." The mans eyes widened in shock, he did not expect Alastair standing up against him. Then he regained his confidence, and shook his head.

"This boy really did fill your head with nonsense..." Alastair sighed and fought himself back, not to roll his eyes. Now he realised what the man was doing, shame he didn't notice manipulation before.

"Goodbye Charles, I really wish you to be happy with your fiancée." he said without any emotion in his voice, and turned around, to walk out of the room. The mans jaw dropped, and Thomas smirked, watching proudly as Alastair opened the door.

The younger boy followed him out, and as he closed the door behind him, Alastair let out a breath, he didn't know he was holding. Thomas put his arms around the shorter, and hugged him really tightly, picking him up from the floor to spin him around, and Alastair gasped then giggled as he set him down. He laced his hands around the other boys neck, and jumped on his waist to kiss him. Thomas chuckled, but caught him under his thighs, then kissed him back. It was a slow and long kiss, and when they pulled away for air Thomas spoke, barely a whisper.

"You know I am really proud of you, right?" Alastair blushed, and looked down shyly smiling. "I love you." Thomas added, and kissed the shorter boys hair, still not putting him down. Alastair looked up, eyes wide from fondness, and kissed him again. He tangled his fingers in the taller boys hair, and used it to deepen the kiss. After a moment he pulled away again, to say, "I love you too", and leaned back in.

"Letting go, letting go

Telling you things you already know

I explode, I explode

Asking you where you want us to go

You've been riding two wheelers all your life

It's not like I'm asking to be your wife

I wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say

Is this coming off in a cheesy way?

I love everything you do

When you call me fucking dumb for the stupid shit I do

Wanna ride my bike with you

Fully undressed, no training wheels left for you

And I'll pull them off for you"

Notes:

Ik, Ik... not as fluffy as promised, but at least I tried :')

Please tell me what you think, or if you would like me to continue this story (I was considering it)!  ps.: listen to the songs (they are the titles of each chapter, and the main title) they inspired me!

Kudos and Comments appreciated!

Thank you for reading!

<3

[lifewouldbebetteronmars]

Thomastair with 16 + 9 for the fluff

Hit me with the floof

I still have a one prompt request rule-

Fluff Prompt #16 - “So I used your cologne. Who cares? I just wanted to smell like you.”

Title from 11:11 by Ben Barnes (the king himself 👑)

Part of my TLH Tattoo Shop AU

Thomas and Cordelia work at a hair salon together, owned by Thomas. Alastair and The Real Found Family™️ (Grace, Kamala, and Eugenia) own a tattoo parlor right next door

Tagging @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @writeordie-4 @littlx-songbxrd @life-through-the-eyes-of @tessherongraystairs @wagnerthedragon @styxdrawings

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You Stopped My Heart From Fifty Feet

Thomas had the day off from the salon today, giving him the luxury to sleep-in for once. He liked to be there to open the salon and make sure everything was perfect before clients came in. But Cordelia had insisted that he take the day off and let her handle the salon, probably so she could prove herself worthy of opening more often.

Thomas thought it probably had something to do with some unspoken competition that she and Alastair have about who’s better at managing their respective workplaces.

He can’t judge them, he does the same thing with Genie.

But even if he had the day off, Alastair didn’t, and Thomas could hear him puttering about in the kitchen or the bathroom or wherever he was. He certainly wasn’t in the bedroom.

Alastair, theoretically, could also have the day off, if he chose to. The tattoo parlor had plenty of staff and it wasn’t like they would fail without him there. But today Alastair had a big client coming in today for some big piece that Alastair had been working on for a few weeks now.

A beautiful watercolor with a mix of designs, it was truly some of Alastair’s best work. So he definitely couldn’t miss this appointment or this client.

Thomas groaned and stretched his body out across the bed. He wasn’t used to sleeping in, especially when his brain is telling him that he should be up and getting ready with Alastair for the day.

And so he decided to go find his boyfriend and lovingly pester him before he had to go to work, wrapping himself in his comforter (just because he wanted to get up, doesn’t mean that he wants to leave the warm comfort of his bed, thank you very much).

He found Alastair in the kitchen, his back to him as he waited for his coffee to finish brewing, most likely checking his phone notifications as he did so. Thomas smiled as the sight as he crept toward his boyfriend to wrap himself around him, burying his head in the crook of Alastair’s neck.

Alastair made a sound of acknowledgment, turning his head to press a kiss to Thomas’s hair. “Good morning, jigaram. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” he asked, turning around in Thomas’s arms to face him.

Thomas mumbled out a reply, he was warm and tired and didn’t feel like talking. What a wonderful feeling for an early morning.

Even though he couldn’t see Alastair’s face, he could sense the fond eye roll he gave him.

“You should be taking advantage of your day off, Tom. You rarely let yourself have days like this. Enjoy it, darling.” Alastair’s long fingers had started to card through his hair, playing with it gently.

Thomas loved Alastair’s fingers, pianist fingers, he called them. They were long and slender, evidence of Alastair’s many years of playing piano.

He buried his head deeper into Alastair’s neck in response, taking a deep breath and inhaling his scent, expecting the citrusy smell of Alastair’s cologne. Only to be shocked by the scent of his cologne instead of Alastair’s.

Thomas looked up at Alastair to see him with a small smirk on his face, smug and content. “Are you wearing my cologne?”

“What do you think?”

“Alastair.”

Thomas is not ashamed to admit that he whined, just a tiny bit.

“Thomas.” Alastair whined right back at him, clearly biting back a laugh.

He raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend, challenging him to say something else. Alastair merely glared half-heartedly back at him, obviously wanting to win their staring contest.

This went on for a moment before one of them caved in.

Alastair sighed in defeat before responding, looking anywhere but Thomas. “So I used your cologne. Who cares? I just wanted to smell like you.”

“You could have just said that in the first place, Alas.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Thomas smiled at him like he had hung the moon just for him. “Oh, don’t I know it.”

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Happy Fluffbruary!

I will be starting a tag list for Fluffbruary, either respond to this post or ask me in another way to be added