#thomastair fanfiction

[vwritesaus]

It is no secret to anyone who knows him that Alastair Carstairs is an exceptional cook. Armed with the knowledge passed down from his mother and Risa, he felt it was his duty to keep the Persian traditions alive in their family, and the only way he felt comfortable doing it was through cooking. It was his escape when the piano keys felt slimy and sticky under his fingertips, and when his thumb and index fingers slowly became more and more smudged with ink stains from the mundane newspapers. Cordelia was the taste tester every time, no matter how burnt or salty or under seasoned his food was. He could trust her to give him an honest critique—and she always did, without preamble.       ‘Dadash, did you empty the entire Dead Sea into this? My tongue is burning.’       ‘Oh, this is better than last time! Just needs more chilli, it’s a bit on the mild side.’       ‘Alastair, this is extremely chewy. It’s meant to be softer, no?’       Though he would roll his eyes and pretend to be offended by every one of his sister’s comments, Alastair was glad for it all. It was their little pocket of solidarity in an otherwise distant relationship. Alastair’s own doing, of course, but he felt it necessary at the time.       He was four years old when he first showed an interest, according to Sona. By eleven, Alastair was comfortable enough to cook a couple of simple dishes without any help. By fifteen, he was a self-proclaimed master. Yes, he made mistakes sometimes—as all good cooks do—but he knew his way around a kitchen, just as Cordelia knew her way around Cortana. Naturally it was something he kept to himself: if he had disclosed to any of the boys who bullied him at the Shadowhunter Academy that he, a male, loved and knew how to cook, and was taught how to by the women in his life, it would have given them yet another few reasons to belittle and assault him.       Being his father’s son and a boy with darker skin was already too many reasons. So Alastair kept his passion quiet, known only to his mother, his sister, and Risa. He’s sure Elias never knew, for if he had, Alastair is certain he would have put a stop to it somehow. All it took was one remark to have Alastair give up and push it down. His love for piano and singing, for instance.       But Alastair and Cordelia made it a regular occurrence to take over the kitchen and get under Risa’s feet, in her words. He cherishes those memories, where flour would coat the front of his waistcoat and parts of Cordelia’s hair, and the fragrant aroma of cinnamon, cardamom and clove would fill the entire room alongside their laughter. They were just some of the good things he held onto whilst at the Academy.       But the Academy days are no more, and Elias’s domineering presence has fizzled out through fire and ash. Alastair is free to do whatever he wants to do and be whoever he wants to be, and cooking is only a part of it.

continue reading on ao3

~

well well, it has been a long time, hasn't it??

but here i am, back for good hopefully!! and with a wee fic i wrote for my bestest girl @drunkonimagination for her birthday back in july ✨ it's based on one of our first interactions together before we hit the dms and the hill i will die on that is alastair carstairs is great at cooking but a terrible baker. only just got around it posting it jkahdjasd. hope you all enjoy it, and i'll be back with some more fics soon!!

also pls ignore the title, it's the best thing i could come up with :')

~

tagging people who might be interested: @edwinspaynes @purplebass @angeldaisies @faithfromanewperspective @tessherongraystairs @celias

let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

[4uru]

Here to share the weird and rare times I make fanart bc these bitch ass characters live in a Victorian mansion turned "hype-house" and they refuse to pay rent

Other Blogs:

Art blog: @4uru-draws

Bengali /Desi Culture blog : @oreh-kolpona

Alastair Carstairs fanblog: @esfandiyar-jahanshah

Tag for my cats: #dibanishi

The fanfic list :

Finished

Unfinished

Original Work

Biblically Accurate Misfortunes (arthurian legends reincarnation)

HP fanfics : (fuck jk rowling)

Somehow This Was Sirius's Fault (marauders time travel to modern day hogwarts)

My Mommy's got a gun (You better run) (Marauders era canon divergence)

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie (James Potter ll x Teddy Lupin slow burn)

The Weasley Diaries fanart and fanfic

Hey, Sister Do You Still Believe In Love? I Wonder. (Dominique Weasley centric oneshot)

Less Of A Lily, More Like A Dandelion (trans masc Lily Luna Potter centric oneshot)

TSC fanfic: (also fuck cc)

TLH fanfics:

Good Riddance! (Alastair tearing Charles a new one)

Rubatosis (Thomastair smut ft. Bottom Thomas)

When Summer Slipped Us (Underneath Her Tongue) (Thomastair fluff)

Your Lips, My Lips, Apocalypse. (Matthew x kit)

It Feels Like Yesterday Was A Year Ago, But I Don't Wanna Let Anybody Know. (What if Cordelia went to Alastair at the end of choi)

TDA fics :

(swap AU series)

There's really no way of winning, if in their eyes you'll always be a dumb blonde Mark Blackthorn x Diego Rosales smut fic

I Get Mean When I'm Nervous, (Like A Bad Dog). Keiran/Julian Balackthorn toxic yaoi🔥

Love Me In Spite (If I betray All Lonely Nights) Robert Lightwood x Michael Wayland oneshot fic

Cobra Kai Fanfic:

A Fresh Poison Each Week (Binary Boyfriends canon divergence AU)

Tell Me Something Nice (Anthony x Kenny post season 5)

[laylax13s]

Chapters: 1/20 Fandom: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Alastair Carstairs/Charles Fairchild, Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale, Jesse Blackthorn/Lucie Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs/Matthew Fairchild, Ariadne Bridgestock/Anna Lightwood, Ariadne Bridgestock/Eugenia Lightwood, Ariadne Bridgestock & Alastair Carstairs & Eugenia Lightwood, Alastair Carstairs & Thomas Lightwood, Grace Blackthorn/Christopher Lightwood Characters: Alastair Carstairs, Thomas Lightwood, Charles Fairchild, Cordelia Carstairs, James Herondale, Matthew Fairchild, Lucie Herondale, Jesse Blackthorn, Grace Blackthorn, Christopher Lightwood, Eugenia Lightwood, Ariadne Bridgestock, Anna Lightwood, Sona Carstairs, Elias Carstairs, Jem Carstairs, Zachary Carstairs Additional Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Crack, Crack, Inspired by Music, Inspired by Fanfiction, Song: Boys Don't Cry (The Cure), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Eventual Fluff, Drama & Romance, Drama, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Boarding School Summary:

enemies to friends to lovers to strangers to lovers :)) dramaaaaa (and fluff ofc ofc) minimal smut (i had to) light angst read the tags!!

"Imagine eternity, doesn't seem that long They say nothing lasts forever We'll have to prove them wrong" @all-for-the-fanfiction @life-through-the-eyes-of @prayers0for0rain

[chrasilla]

angst prompts

"They won't wait for you forever. So you need to decide if all your resentment and pride is worth losing them for good."

"You're everything to me, but clearly I was just a short phase in your life."

"I just want you to be happy." "The only way you can make me happy is by staying far away from me."

"I miss you, but I miss me more."

"You from the beginning we had an expiry date."

"You shouldn't be with me. " "I know. Yet here I am."

"I must have loved you in another life." "But not in this one?"

"You could stay, for me." "That's not enough for me to stay."

"I always thought I'd be someone's first choice, but I'm not even in your top five, am I?"

"I love you, but I barely know you. I don't think you even know yourself."

[heronchild-haven]

Excerpt from my Grishaverse Heronchild AU (Thomas’ POV):

The sky hung grey and heavy over the hills and a chilling wind had set in at noon. The cornflowers and buttercups sprouting in the grass all around were the only sign of spring’s touch on Cambria.

Climbing up the slope, Thomas could make out the heretic even from a distance, robed entirely in black and unguarded, as any protection would’ve been superfluous. A short, slight girl in blue stood at his side. And a few paces behind them, surrounded by a retinue of soldiers and banner men, sat the white witch on a grey horse, rigid and upright, like a figure carved in ivory. Black flags displaying the jagged sigil of Edom fluttered all around her in the wind like a flock of ravens.

As he closed in, Thomas could feel their combined attention settling on him like a heavy weight.

Despite his height he felt like he was shrinking with every step towards the heretic. His gaze slid first to the girl, who he realised had to be Lucie Herondale. Even though she’d grown up since their time in Alicante, she looked younger than her age, appearing almost fragile in her thick, heavily embroidered coat and bejewelled headpiece, from which strands of hair had been ripped free by the wind. There was something haunted in her expression, and with a flash of pity Thomas thought—not for the first time—how terrible it must’ve been for her to spend all those years locked away and alone.

“Lightwood.” The heretic said as way of greeting, forcing Thomas to finally look at him. He’d expected to see something of the shy boy he’d known at the academy, but aside from the same wild hair and pale skin, James Herondale was almost unrecognisable. Even his eyes, which were still of the same strange colour, had a wildness in them now that lent them a predatory quality, and Thomas understood for the first time why so many found them unsettling. He lowered his gaze instinctively.

“I requested specifically to speak with Matthew Fairchild.” The heretic said coolly.

Thomas forced himself to meet his gaze again before replying: „It would be foolish to send our sun summoner into a potential trap.”

James Herondale cocked his head: „You are the more expendable one, then.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, and he was right. Thomas knew perfectly well the worth at which the clave currently held anyone carrying the Lightwood name, but he’d agreed to put himself at risk willingly, even though Carstairs’ hesitation to send his own son had been enough for him to know that the general suspected at least the possibility of an ambush. Better me than him.

„Either way,” the heretic continued without awaiting a reply to his remark. “There’s no need to pretend. I know that your sun summoner,” he enunciated the words slowly, almost mockingly: “is not anywhere near this camp.”

Thomas’ heart sank. They’d already lost the one advantage they’d hoped to employ. He did his best not to let anything show, trying to think of what Alastair might say in his place, even though he had no hopes of managing a convincingly derisive sneer.

“Do you really want to base your plans for battle on pure speculation?”

“As I said, there’s no need to pretend. The clave should know better than to try and trick me. Matthew Fairchild is not here.” He almost seemed to lament the fact. “He will meet his fate another day. As for you, you have until sundown to surrender and agree to our terms. No blood will flow if the Clave withdraws their troops peacefully from Cambria within two weeks time and hands over the lord and lady Lightwood to Edom.” Thomas’ mouth felt dry. He had not expected to be driven into a corner this rapidly. “Also,” the other man added: “that insolent son of lord Carstairs, Alastair, will have to be delivered tonight as a hostage and a sign of good will.”

The heretic mentioning Alastair set Thomas’ heart racing. If he held a grudge, if he had it out for Alastair, what in the world could Thomas do to protect him? He wasn’t supposed to accept any conditions of surrender, but what if Carstairs and Anna ended up changing their minds when faced with the might of Edom?

“The paladin is with them.” Thomas flinched violently. He’d almost entirely forgotten about the presence of the girl. She was mustering him with an amused, almost childlike sparkle in her eyes. How did she know?

James’ gaze slid to his sister, then back to Thomas, who began feeling unsettled under their joined attention. Avoiding their eyes, he glanced over at the witch, who observed the scene from her horse, her lips drawn into a thin line.

“So Carstairs brought both of his children,” the heretic said. “Very well, I was looking forward to getting even with the paladin anyway.”

It seemed pointless to even try and deny Cordelia’s presence, so Thomas kept quiet, still reeling from the heretic’s earlier demands.

“Aren’t you worried?” Lucie Herondale asked her brother, though the tone of her voice betrayed anticipation rather than concern. He looked at her and his expression softened ever so slightly, turning almost indulgent: “I have confidence in your abilities.”

He turned back to Thomas. “You all know what my sister and I are capable of. You are likely to loose this fight. Even with the great Elias Carstairs and his paladin daughter. Even with your incantatores,” he said, spitting out the Idrisian word like a curse.

Thomas’ blood was rushing in his own ears. He couldn’t think of anything to say, to try and bargain. He wasn’t Alastair. “I will convey your demands to the general.”

The heretic gave a slow nod: “If we don’t hear from you before sundown, you will be destroyed.”

It was a dismissal. Feeling dizzy, almost as if he was caught in a haze, Thomas took a few steps backward, putting some distance between himself and the siblings before he turned his back on them.

“Lightwood,” the heretic called again, forcing him to look over his shoulder one last time. “Deliver my regards to our sweet cousin.”

[starrieshq]

Home [Thomastair ft. Jordelia]

here is my long-procrastinated Thomastair fic! It's a bit short, but dw! I have plans to write more fics in the future! (I take requests 😁)

Tag: @edwinspaynes

Thomas woke up to the sound of groaning coming from the other side of the bed.

Alastair rolled closer to him, his head resting next to Thomas’s face, his dark hair tickling his nose.

Thomas chuckled. Seeing him like this, with his guard down and happier than he had ever been before, was always his favorite part of the day.

“Good morning.” He said, rolling over.

Alastair scoffed sleepily. “A morning is never good.”

Thomas wrapped his arms around him and nestled his face into his shoulder. “With you, it is.”

His face reddened. “Damn you, Lightwood.”

They laid like this for some time, Thomas’s arms around Alastair, both drifting in and out of sleep, basking in the comforting warmth of each other. Eventually, though, they both heard crying, and had to get up.

He smiled as he got out of bed and headed to the washroom. As he freshened up, he could hear Zachary Arash from his nursery, having just woken up from his slumber and extremely displeased. Sona was at a Clave meeting in Idris and had left him in Thomas and Alastair’s care.

Alastair was an excellent brother. Due to Elias’s parenting, he had taken it upon himself to ensure that Zachary would never have to experience such trauma. Already, he was learning to walk, and had even said his first word (mama). Sona was delighted, and thus surrendered him to their care. Besides, Cordelia and James would have their own child soon. It’s not like there was anyone else fit for the job.

Matthew was on his travel year, headed to Paris, then London, then Reykjavík. James would be a father soon, and it took everything in Thomas to not think about where Christopher could have been.

He headed to the kitchen, where Alastair was preparing breakfast.

“Hello, Zachary.” He cooed, while Alastair rolled his eyes.

They sat down at the table, Thomas buttering a roll, Alastair sipping coffee, and Zachary fussing quietly.

“I never understood how you can tolerate that.” Thomas motioned towards his cup of coffee. “It’s awful.”

Alastair disagreed. “It’s an acquired taste,” He said. “It’s fine.”

Thomas shook his head as Zachary fussed. Alastair placed him in his lap and began calming the toddler, attempting to soothe him.

“Shall we head to Cordelia’s place after this?” Asked Alastair. “She’s due at any moment, and it’d be great to talk to her and James before they have their daughter.”

Thomas smiled. “Zachary would be delighted to have a new friend.”

After breakfast, they commuted to Curzon Street by carriage, Zachary waving out the window and babbling the entire trip there. Alastair held him with a parentlike yet childish manner, and Thomas felt like his heart would explode every time he looked at him.

“Zachary,” He remarked, hoisting him up, “As much as the citizens love to see you greet them with morning joy, my arms are screaming in pain in a way that is neither loving nor joyous.”

Finally, they rolled to a stop at Curzon Street.

Before they could knock, a very pregnant Cordelia opened the door, her hand helping support her belly.

“Layla,” Alastair said. “You look awfully big.”

She gasped playfully. “Alastair, you know that you’re not supposed to say that to a woman.”

James appeared behind her, an arm wrapping around her waist and resting lightly on her stomach.

“Thomas and Alastair,” He said, “What excellent timing. My parents left not an hour ago.” James peered curiously at them. “What brings you here?”

“Just thought we’d drop by before all of your time is riddled with screaming and crying.” Thomas replied, motioning to Cordelia.

She smiled, then winced as her other hand flew to her belly. “She’s a fighter.”

Cordelia continued to smile, however Thomas noted the slight grimace peeking through. She was extremely pregnant, and as she ushered them into the house, he noticed that her feet were swollen.

“Cordelia,” He said. “Should you be walking?”

James sighed. “I told her that she should be in bed, but she won’t listen to me.”

“Nonsense.” Cordelia said. “I can handle myself. I’m perfectly capable-”

She let out a small gasp and squeezed her eyes shut.

Alastair coughed pointedly. “You were saying?”

James ushered her to the sitting room, where she plopped down in an armchair. James took a seat on the couch next to her, leaving Thomas and Alastair to squeeze onto a loveseat. Zachary, the little traitor, settled in next to his uncle James, causing Alastair to disappointedly sigh. Out of habit, Thomas put his arm around him as Cordelia sighed in relief.

“My feet are killing me.” She complained.

“She’s due any moment now, according to Risa.” James said.

Alastair relaxed in Thomas’s grasp and subconsciously leaned his head on his shoulder. “I can imagine.”

Thomas lightly hit him. Alastair scoffed as he settled in closer to him.

“Rude.”

After their visit, they decided to head back to their flat. Zachary was already asleep, and Thomas and Alastair decided to retire to bed early.

They laid awake in bed, Alastair’s head on Thomas’s chest, rising and falling with every breath. A strand of his dark hair tickled his chin, and Thomas batted it away.

After all these years in the dark, all those days of longing and loneliness, the days of yearning and despair, this was it.

This was home.

[vwritesaus]

okay first of all, thank you so much for the rec @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone + @tessherongraystairs 🥺💖 i'm so flattered ajsdhkajshd

second of all *rubs hands together* boy oh boy do i have some thomastair fic recs for you

the ones which have already been recommended so far i also agree with, but here are some more~

liebestraum by resident_tasmanian_devil

erase me, darling valentine (you'll always know where to find me when you change your mind) by alastaircarstairs

as if an artist's dreams by coronaofastar

home is where your heart is - but what a shame, cause everyone's heart doesn't beat the same by toffeeandbooks

To Be Better Tomorrow Than You Were Yesterday by GinnyRose

in the dark and something borrowed by @all-this-panic-still-no-disco

i know they didn't wanna self-promote too much, but please read the fics by @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone - they're all so so lovely

the lighthouse by resident_tasmanian_devil (not a thomastair fic per se, more of an alastair character study, and my god, it's such a beautifully written fic)

there's literally so many oml, and that's not including the ones written here on tumblr (that's a deep dive i have to do myself at some point) but these are the ones from the top of my head!!

i've also got plenty of thomastair fics in the making (rip my wip list...) and i'll be posting them in the future hehe <3

Hii people who loves Thomas Lightwood and Alastair Carstairs as much as I do, I have a small request from you guys!

Please recommend me some of the best Thomas and Alastair fics you've got or you've written and would recommend. Could be smutty and fluffy or not at all. I really don't mind.

I can't get back into reading actual books (even though it's simply rereading Shadowhunters books) because my mind is filled with thoughts about them!

Thank you angels 💙

[bytheangell]

Time Together

(Read on AO3, written for @malecdiscordserver's By The Angel Bingo prompt, laying with their head on your lap)

There are some moments in your life that you wish you could simply exist in forever. Perfect seconds of pure contentment, where everything you ever wanted, everything you ever hoped for, seems to shift so subtly and fall into perfect place in your heart and soul.

For Alastair, this was one of those moments.

When Thomas came into the room to see what he was doing, Alastair had been reading. He marked his spot on the page and closed the book, starting to get up from the sofa when Thomas held a hand up for him to stop.

“No,” Thomas had said. “Please, stay.”

Thomas crossed the room and sat down beside Alastair, hesitating just a moment before sliding over so that he had room to lay down with his head in Alastair’s lap and his long legs hooked over the arm of the sofa.

“Is this alright?” Thomas asked.

“You cannot possibly be comfortable like that,” Alastair pointed out, glancing down at his boyfriend’s legs, his body far too long for the comparatively short piece of furniture.

“I’m always comfortable when I’m with you. What are you reading?” Thomas asked, glancing at the cover of the book.

The title was in Persian, so Thomas likely couldn’t read it. Or, at least, he couldn’t read all of it. Thomas was learning, something Alastair found both amusing and endearing in equal parts - the amusement usually coming into play when he tried to speak words he only read on his own before.

“Poetry,” Alastair stated. “Nizami Ganjavi.”

Alastair watched the brief moment of recognition flicker across Thomas’ face. He knew that Thomas would recognize the name, a frequent comfort read for Alastair… and of course, Thomas was too clever to not piece together that this meant Alaster was in a place of desiring comfort that morning.

Thomas considered this information, then closed his eyes. “Read to me?”

It seemed as if Thomas may be in the same position. It wasn’t like him to be so quietly contemplative, and for a moment Alastair considers asking if he came to talk with Alastair about something before he happened upon him reading.

Instead, Alastair adjusted his position so he could comfortably hold the book up above Thomas’ head, and began reading aloud where he left off on his own. Since Thomas’ eyes were closed from the start, Alastair wasn’t certain when Thomas fell asleep, only that at some point the cadence of his words were accompanied by gentle, rumbling snores.

Alastair smiled softly to himself, and continued reading aloud, fearing the abrupt stop in sound would be jarring enough to wake Thomas if he went back to reading silently.

As Alastair came to the end of his reading, he realized suddenly that he didn’t want to. He never wanted this moment to end, this quiet calm that settled not only over the room, but over himself and Thomas. Both at peace, both comfortable, both together. If this was every day of the rest of Alastair’s life, he didn’t think he would be upset about it, not in the slightest.

So Alastair found himself flipping back to the beginning, and continuing to read. His right hand absently stroked through Thomas’s hair while he slept, and other than Alastair’s gently spoken poetry the only other sound in the room was the soft ticks of the clock on the wall, marking the passing seconds.

They may not be able to live in this moment forever, but Alastair could do his best to hold on to it a little while longer.

[purplebass]

Happy Birthday @alastairstom !!!🎂💜

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cut them into bigger pieces.”

“Thomas doesn’t like big pieces.”

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

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

“You crush the nuts.”

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

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

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

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

“Next time, then.”

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

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

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

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

“Right,” he managed a smile. 

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

“Goodbye, Matthew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Asheghetam,” echoed Thomas. 

And then they ate the cake.

[keirawantstocry]

Ohhhh you take those prompts in your pinned!? Alrighty then!! No pressure, but Thomastair + sharing clothing?

i love you. i literally dropped everything i was doing to do this as soon as i saw it

thank you <3

anyway. i haven't written thomastair in a while so im hoping this sounds okay. i had thomas's voice down a few months ago but again im out of practice so hopefully i did him justice :)

-sharing clothes

Thomas had never quite considered that happiness like this could exist. He had known for years that he was not like other boys his age. Yet he never saw boys like him, ones with eyes that couldn’t care less for women, happy. He began to believe in it more when he found out about Matthew. When Anna began acting as her most authentic self. But Thomas was not Matthew and certainly was not Anna. He knew he was softer. They were made of deepslate and adamas while Thomas was made of puddy and wool. He never thought he would be brave enough to love in a world that was so opposed to his love. Surely he could never find a man willing to risk it all for him. 

So he never expected this moment. He stood at home, under his parent’s roof, in front of his lover. His family was downstairs. They loved him. They loved the man that he loved. Life was difficult as a Shadowhunter’s life often was but he had found the most beautiful man and that most beautiful man was, inexplicably, his.  

“Thomas,” Alastair said in that soft fond voice only used when they were alone. “What are you thinking about?” 

It brought him back to the present. To the beautiful man in front of him, drowning in one of Thomas’ shirts which was entirely too big on him but only made him look ever lovelier. It was all he wore as well. If there were less people in this house and Thomas was a bit braver he would have made advancements already but he kept his cool. “You,” he said. “How lucky I am to have you.” 

Crimson bloomed on Alastair’s cheeks, drawing attention to his elegant cheekbones. By the Angel, he was gorgeous. Thomas could hold himself back no longer. He strode forward and embraced his lover with a strong kiss, hands on his lower back. 

Alastair made a noise of surprise but kissed back eagerly before drawing back. “Now what was that for?” 

“You look good in my clothes,” Thomas said, head dizzy as he turned his hungry gaze down his body. 

Alastair smacked him lightly. “Don’t start what you can’t finish. Your family is literally waiting for us to come down to have breakfast. Don’t make your parents regret having us spend the night together already.” 

Thomas conceded with a sigh. “Fine.” He pulled back to grab a pair of old pants of his for Alastair. “But as soon as they leave for the markets this afternoon.” He shot a meaningful stare at Alastair whose jaw fell open at the implication. 

“Fine by me,” he said once he finally got his breath back. “That sounds perfect.” 

Thomas gave him a smug smile. “Good. Let’s go then.”

[vwritesaus]

The first thing Thomas notices is that he is standing in a well-lit room. Sunlight streams in through large arched windows, casting long rays along the floor and opposite walls from which framed paintings hang. He can’t make out any of the faces, most of them blurred or faded from age, but he can see every miniature groove in the elaborate frames carved with fleurs-de-lis, tiny leaves and rose petals.       The second thing he notices is Alastair Carstairs sitting sideways on one of the window seats of those arched windows, his back leaning against the edge of the arch and one foot planted firmly on the seat, the toes of the other grazing the wooden flooring. His attention is fixed on the world beyond the glass panes—a streaked mass of fluffy clouds and a blue sky stretching for miles—and his expression is contemplative, almost serious. That attention quickly turns to Thomas, possibly having sensed his presence, and something close to coyness blooms to life in his expression.       ‘Lightwood,’ he greets politely.       When Thomas blinks and doesn’t respond—too shocked to do so, because Alastair Carstairs is talking to him? To Tiny Tom, willingly?—Alastair rolls his eyes. He swings his whole body around to face him, both feet on the floor and his gaze fierce.       ‘Well?’ he prods. ‘Are you simply going to stand there like a cad, or are you going to come here and sit beside me?’

continue reading on ao3

~

hello!! long time no see, haha...

but here i am, and i bring with me a little fic i wrote for my wonderful best girl @drunkonimagination for her birthday back in july ✨✨ it's based off this art of hers where thomas dreams of kissing alastair, only to get rather the rude awakening lol. hope you enjoy it!!

~

tagging people who might be interested: @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone @ferrari-go-vroom-vroom @astriefer @luciehercndale @claritywithclary @bluewrite

let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!

[4uru]

Rubatosis - Words_of_Filius_Lunae - The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare [Archive of Our Own]

Sooo i did a thing.

[laylax13s]

Precious

Torn

------

TW/CW.: physical @bvse, mental @bvse 

---------

“No,” Charles raged as he paced back and forth.

I really should have kept my mouth quiet, Alastair thought to himself as he shifted between his legs worried about his lover's next move.

“Honestly.” He spoke as his face turned bloody red, standing in one place.“ Everything, this is your fault. Why weren't you careful?! Now that bohemian can spread it all around.”

His fists clutched at his side's as his voice began to rise with each word making Alastair wish he could disappear.

He is so angry…

“Charlie.” Alastair whispered barely,“ She isn't going to say anything, I promise.”

Charles slowly walked towards him, as his fingers found their way to his bleached hair,“ I just wish you would listen to me. Everything would be perfect that way. promise me that you will listen to me like in Paris?”

"B..but…” He stuttered… my mother.

Charles sighed," No, but my love, I just wished you were the same back then. The same Alastair who admired what I did for us and appreciated me. You don't even care about me.”

“What?” Shock appeared on his face as he heard the accusations,“ Of course I appreciate what you do.”

Charles continued to brush his fingers against Alastair's hair,“ You know I love you. Do you love me as well?” when he hummed and leaned into the touch.That's when the gentle, loving touch turned into fury, as Charles fisted the blonde hair into a death grip tagging the younger boy closer, “Then why do you make me seem like the bad guy? Huh?” 

He couldn't help but whimper in pain as he let out a sob when the older man pushed him against the wall. A hand locked in hair as another bruising his hip as his hold began tighter each second.

“Tell me?” He practically growled,“ Why put me in such a position if you love me? Now Matthew and his gang of misfits know. All because you couldn't deny it. Everything I did for you, for us is going to crumble.”

Whimpers left Alastair as thoughts of wanting to cry rushed through his mind. Tears threatened to escape his dark eyes. The green eyes stared at him as he suddenly walked away making the younger boy slide down against the wall while he continued cursing under his breath.

Please…

 For a moment Charles turned with a smirk on his face as he walked towards. “Alastair,” he said. “ I'm sorry. I'm worried about us. I'm trying to do the right thing,” He leaned down and placed two fingers under the dark haired boy’s chin to tilt it upwards. “You understand that, right?” he continued. Alastair started shakily nodding, biting his lip slightly. “Good.” was Charles’s final word before straightening up, and walking towards the door where Alastair’s jacket and hat were waiting. He picked them up, and handed them to the still curled up boy on the floor. “You need to leave now, my brother is coming home in some time.” the man stated. Alastair nodded again, this time only once. He stood up, putting the jacket back on, holding the hat in his hands. He walked to Charles, and gave him a quick kiss before rushing out of the room.

  He was about to go downstairs, when he heard the front door opening. His heart stopped for a moment, but an idea came to his mind fortunately.

  The next moment he found himself opening a window and leaning out to check how high he was. It was high, he thought. But there was no time to waste because the person who came in was already on the stairs. 

  Alastair sucked in a deep breath, and decided to climb down. It was easier than he thought, due to his shadowhunter skills. 

  Once he got down, he ran away from the manor as fast as he could. While on his way home, it started snowing. That was when he realised, he left his hat next to the window. Oh no, he thought, what if Matthew notices? But then he remembered, he already knows, the worst that could happen is that he will be furious about Alastair being in his house.

  Someone bumped into him, dragging him out of his thoughts. 

  “Uh, sorry..” the person muttered. Alastair frowned and looked up at the familiar voice.

  “Thomas?” he asked in confusion. 

  “Alastair.” The boy nodded at him as a greeting. Alastair nodded back hesitantly. Then the frown found its way back on his face,

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. Thomas glanced at the Fairchild manor next to them,

  “I’m here with Kit, I’m helping him with his experiments.” he answered happily. “I guess I don’t have to ask why you are here…” Thomas continued with a blush, looking down. Alastair did the same. He thanked his dark complexion once again that his blush wasn’t so visible. But then some kind of anger seemed to be on Thomas’s face. He looked up at Alastair, “I must be on my way. Goodbye, Carstairs.” he said, and walked past Alastair. The latter hesitated for a moment before turning around towards the boy walking away.

  “Hey!” he said. Thomas instantly spun back, with an expectant expression. But with that Alastair suddenly felt nervous. Why did he call for Thomas again? “I- “ Come on, say something, he thought. “Goodbye, Thomas.” was the only thing that came out. The mentioned boy pursed his lips, but nodded and turned back, to enter the Fairchild manor.  

-------

Co creator: @thelasthours-alastair

[flowersbloomuntiltheyrot]

Flowers Bloom until they Rot and Fall Apart

Chapter 8 (PAST): All the Happiness you Lost

Another bit of happier past that sadly did not last, this time from Thomas' POV. ChoT Thomas inspired me for this as well as ChoT Eugenia, who is a gremlin. Enjoy!

Thomas sighed in defeat as he let out another coughing fit. He’d told Alastair he was recovering . He’d said he was sure he would feel well enough to meet him tonight. He cursed himself for making promises he now couldn’t keep. What would Alastair think? For a moment, Thomas considered going out anyway, but he did not think Alastair would like it much if Thomas spent the evening coughing over him. 

Pneumonia, the doctor had concluded. An old friend he had not seen in many years. Why it had come back now of all times, Thomas did not know. Perhaps it was that time he and Lucie had gone swimming and Thomas had accidentally inhaled some dirty lake water after a cannonball.

Thomas had thought they were past this, but his family had gone all the way back to protecting sick little Tommy mode, even though he was not so little anymore. And not even that sick. Going out on a date might be a bit much, but he didn’t need the coddling, his mother making him tea every hour, nor Barbara stuffing him in blankets or Eugenia watching him like a hawk to see if he might attempt to leave his bedroom.

He took his phone from the desk beside his bed, he’d missed a text from Alastair. 

Alastair: Are you feeling any better?

Thomas considered for a few moments before texting back.

Thomas: Not really. I have pneumonia apparently.

Alastair’s response was faster than Thomas could have anticipated. 

Alastair: Oh that sucks, get well soon.

Thomas: Maybe we can move tonight’s date to my place? We could watch a movie or something. I’d like the company.

They’d planned to go out for dinner, had set this date two weeks ago before Thomas had gotten sick, and he regretted having to cancel on Alastair. This was a nice enough alternative, right? Alastair always seemed to like it here. 

Alastair: If you’re sure you feel up for it. I’ll ask my mother.

After several minutes, Alastair texted again. 

Alastair: I’ll be there around six,  does that work?

Thomas: Sure! We usually eat around seven,  I’ll let my mom know you’re joining.

Thomas got up from bed and changed into a clean shirt and pants. He was about to leave his bedroom,when Eugenia grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” Eugenia said. “Back to bed with you.”

Thomas sighed. “I’m getting too old for this, Genie. Lying in bed all day has never done anyone any good. Also, even with pneumonia I’m stronger than you. You can’t stop me.”

“And where do you think you’re going, then?” Eugenia demanded. “Not on your date with Alastair. You always refuse to take proper rest when you’re sick. But if you won’t listen to me, I’ll call Alastair to come over and take care of you instead.”

This had to be difficult for Eugenia. While she was a gremlin who would stop at nothing to keep Thomas from going out while he was sick, she also championed his and Alastair’s relationship from the sidelines. 

“I already asked him to come over,” Thomas said. “And I was about to tell mom so she’d make enough food for all of us. And I might as well rest in the living room.” 

The reason Thomas had retreated to his bedroom to rest was that it offered a little more privacy, and when he was in there his parents did not bother him. Barbara and Eugenia not so much, Thomas didn’t think either of them had any clue what boundaries meant. 

Thomas desperately hoped he could teach his sisters to knock before Alastair spent the night here for the first time. That sort of thing would have to happen here. Alastair wasn’t out to his parents yet and he preferred to meet at Thomas’ house. Besides, Thomas didn’t think Alastair’s father liked him very much. Thomas had the sense something was not quite right there, with Alastair’s father in particular, but he’d never been able to get Alastair to talk about it. 

He found his mother outside in the garden, watering the blue roses. Those had always been among Thomas’ favorites. 

“Tom, how are you feeling?” 

“Could be better, could be worse,” Thomas said. “Alastair’s coming over for dinner tonight. We were going out, but since I’m not feeling well we’re going to watch a movie at home instead. Is that alright?”

“Sure. I’m making cauliflower soup tonight, there should be plenty.”

His mother always made more soup than they needed. If he’d been feeling better, he would have helped with the cooking, he loved to cook. Now, he returned inside to the living room, folding himself into a blanket on the couch. He’d asked Alastair to bring him his homework so he could at least keep up somewhat. While it was a bad idea to try magic when he could be interrupted any moment by  a coughing fit, he should at least try to keep up with the theory. He needed to keep his grades up if he wanted to be accepted into a magical botany programme at university. 

Thomas jumped up from the couch as the doorbell rang, but Eugenia had long beat him to the front gate. It always felt impractical, to have to open the front gate and then the front door, but there were too many deadly plants in the garden to not put a big fence around it. 

Eugenia was talking loudly about how Thomas was still sick, how he’d been coughing all day and how Alastair should make sure he didn’t move too much from the couch. Thomas wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment. Then he realized he’d gone out with no shoes on and was still wrapped in a Mickey Mouse blanket. 

“Alastair. It’s good to see you.”

Alastair was dressed nicely in a black blouse and matching trousers, his hair styled to perfection as usual. Thomas didn’t think Alastair ever had bad hair days. It had grown out a little, he used to keep it short but now it had grown past his ears, falling in soft locks over his forehead. He looked at Thomas through the thick lashes circling his dark eyes. He often did that, eyes just a little closed, and Thomas couldn’t help but wonder if he did it on purpose. If Alastair knew how seductive it made him look. 

“You’re not contagious, right?” Alastair asked.

“No,” Thomas said.  “It’s a bacterial pneumonia, so you can’t catch it from me. I’m taking antibiotics for it.” 

“That sounds serious,” Alastair said. “I’m sure the antibiotics will help, but my mother and I also made some remedies. They’re haoma based. This should lower the fever, this one helps with the coughing, and the last helps you feel less tired.”

“I think I could use all of those,” Thomas said. 

Alastair explained how to dose the different remedies, and Thomas took a little bit of everything. There wasn’t an instant effect he could feel, but Alastair explained he would likely start feeling better after an hour or so. He should take his next dose the next morning. 

“Don’t mind my sister too much,” Thomas said. “I’m not sure they know what boundaries are. Fortunately, it’s only Eugenia, though I’m sure Barbara would have been here if she didn’t have an evening shift.”

His oldest sister had moved in with her boyfriend Oliver not long ago, and while he’d had to get used to her not being around, he was glad she was not here while he was sick. It was just Eugenia today.

“I think she’s just protective,” Alastair said.

“She is, but do I look like I need protecting?”

Thomas barely finished his sentence before breaking into another coughing fit that took a good several minutes to stop. 

“No offense, but right now  you kind of do,” Alastair said. “The Mickey Mouse blanket looks cute on you though. Good thing I brought my mother’s remedies. You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

Thomas sighed. The Mickey Mouse blanket had been one from his childhood, and it just so happened to be one of the bigger blankets in the house. The only one, in fact, that he could still wrap himself in. 

“What movie did you have in mind?” Alastair asked. 

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

[wraithsapphic]

“He was kind to me.” Gabriel smiled. His eyes were bright. “I am glad.”

In the midst of mourning, Jesse Blackthorn finds his place in the family he has never been allowed to know, and Christopher Lightwood is given a funeral.

a little fic i wrote right after chain of thorns came out that i’m posting for the one-year anniversary because i wanted jesse to bond with his family and i wanted intermission: grief to be more than it was

[zoyalannister]

My friend and I discussed the plans for TLF, and we decided it's time to share them.

Petals, that is a collection of one-shot missing moments and/or specials, will have 5 chapters in total. One we can't disclose because it will be a huge spoiler for our entire series, but I can annouce that the other will be some moments of Geranium from Cecily's POV. There won't be the exact same scenes from a different POV, but missing moments and/or the times when Grace listened to her talking but not the full conversation.

Daisy, Geranium and Chrysanthemum will be concluded as previously announced.

But we realized we needed to close storylines that go beyond that point, so there will be three stories that I like to call Epilogues:

Lavender, a one shot about Thomastair.

Acacia, a one shot about AriAnna.

Night-blooming Jasmine, a one shot or a mini-long about Gracetopher.

So, you will see us for a little longer :)