#WHO WAS HURTING CORDELIA (UNWITTINGLY BUT LIKE IT HAPPENED) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

venmomejoy · 4 years

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When It Is Useful For You pt. 3

Summary: James faces the reality of what happened to him, and works to repair the damage inflicted on his and Cordelia's relationship.

part one / part two

Read it on AO3!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836060/chapters/58329064#workskin

James had expected to have more reservations about sneaking into a lady's house in the middle of the night, yet any qualms were overshadowed by the simmering rage rising in his chest, threatening to boil over. The idea that he had been subject to such manipulation for so many years, had been reduced to nothing but a mere pawn in Tatiana's game, had James struggling to rein in his temper. But he knew not to let that anger take hold of him, not yet, lest he risk the carelessness anger brings. Rather, he channeled that rage, using it as his tether into the mortal realm as he shifted into shadow.

He made quick work of locating the silver circlet he had adorned for so many months. The bracelet was exactly where he had found it that first time, when he had been retrieving it as a gesture of compassion towards Grace, unknowingly playing into her mother's plot. He wondered if that bracelet truly meant anything to Grace, if it had even belonged to her mother at all, or if she had simply used her tragedy in order to deceive James into compliance. He pushed down the bile threatening to rise at the thought.

With the bracelet in his possession, James left Chiswick manor as fast as he could, thankfully not running into Grace or Tatiana. They were both probably sleeping soundly in their beds, unaware that the very foundation of James's world was falling out from under him. As he made the trek back to where Magnus awaited at the Institute, he could not help but analyze every interaction he had ever had with Grace, every conversation he had had with others about her, trying to understand, trying to see the signs of the exploitation of his mind, his heart.

An hour later, after scanning every inch of the bracelet with his magic, Magnus confirmed their suspicions. He spoke to James with unabashed sympathy, the pain in Magnus's eyes a dull mirror to that in James's chest. He looked at James softly, almost as if he was seeing someone else, another man who had lost so many years to a curse.

James felt it again, the indignation bubbling inside of him. He hated the magic that had done this to him, hated the woman who felt such hatred that she would manipulate a child, hated the heart that had betrayed him. But beyond the anger lay something far, far worse: despair. So many years of his life, spent living unwittingly under someone else's thumb, living in a mind that was not entirely his own. And he might have been able to excuse the slight against himself, had it not caused so many he cared about pain. He had hurt his family, his friends, as he continually chose Grace over them. It had hurt them to see him do anything she asked, confusing fealty and love, despite how obvious it was that Grace was using him for her own benefit. Obvious to everyone except himself, for he could not hear their wisdom, not over the bracelet's magic roaring through his veins. It twisted their concern into hostility, their advice into a scheme to part him from his beloved. But he did not truly love Grace, he never had.

He loved Cordelia. He had since they were children, too young and scared to realize it. And Grace- she had known it too. All of these years, time he could have spent with Cordelia, wasted on Tatiana's leash. Instead, he had made Cordelia suffer, had made her watch as he yearned for Grace, had kissed her and then returned to the hand that hit him. He had whispered promises of a future together to her, only to pervert that promise beyond recognition: yes, they were married, but he continually made it known that he did not love her, that he loved Grace, that as soon as their year was over he would return to Grace. He had hurt her, and the Angel knows if she would ever forgive him. He certainly could not blame her if she did not, even though it might kill him.

His heart has been made into a weapon used against him. But like all other injuries, the wound could only heal when the blade was removed. That was the only thing James could comfort himself with, the knowledge that at the very least it was over, that he would no longer be subject to anyone's will but his own. He had lost much, but he would not let it destroy him; no, he would do whatever he could to repair all the damage he had inflicted on those he loved. His parents, the Merry Thieves, Lucie. Cordelia.

James stood abruptly to his feet, steely determination filling his veins. He was surprised to find dampness on his face, the evidence of tears he did not remember shedding sprinkled along his shirt and waistcoat. Wiping at his face, he looked over to Magnus, who had taken a seat in the armchair next to him, staring at him with sorrow and what looked like helplessness. James realized then that Magnus had been speaking to him all this time, likely trying to soothe him, but James had not heard him, his thoughts drowning out the warlock's words. He knew Magnus despised being unable to help those he cared for, but this burden was his to bear alone.

"Thank you, Magnus- for everything. You have helped me more than I can properly convey."

"I have done very little, child. You had recognized the truth of your abuse on your own- I simply gave it a name." Magnus's cat eyes were gentler than James had ever seen them.

"I-I need to speak to Cordelia," James said, already striding for the door.

"Woah, easy, Romeo," Magnus stood and pressed a hand to James's chest, halting his motion. "It is nearly two in the morning. I'm not sure Cordelia would appreciate such a late visit, even for a heartfelt declaration of love."

"If I wait, she could-"

"If she was going to swear you off forever, she would have done it already. Whatever her decision will be, a few more hours will not make it. Try and get some sleep, then see her in the morning."

James's supposed he was right, although he doubted he would be able to get any sleep tonight. Gratitude filled his heart at everything Magnus had done for him.

"Thank you, Magnus, truly. You have been kinder to me than I deserve."

He strode up to his old bedroom in the Institute before Magnus could say anything else.

-------------------

It had been a long while since Cordelia had allowed herself to wallow in her misery, but curled up in her old bedroom at her mother's house, she found it all too easy to sink into the sorrow that had flooded her after her encounter with James.

The things he had said to her- a small part of her wanted to believe them. Wanted to relish in the love he had professed, even though she knew it was only a product of his heartache and loneliness. She could not stamp out the small voice in her head that wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that what he said was true, that he could want her, could love her. But she knew the truth, knew where his heart lay, and she would not fabricate some other life in order to comfort herself, because she knew it would only make reality hurt more when she returned to it.

When she knocked on the doorstep to her old home yesterday, she had not even had the energy to feign being alright, to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She was immensely grateful that it was Alastair who answered the door, her mother and the baby gone on some errand. He had taken one look at her state and taken her into his arms. His kindness made her tears return in earnest; she was acutely aware of how lucky she was to have a brother who cared for her so much, who would do anything to protect her.

They had wound up sitting on the floor in the foyer, the stone cool against Cordelia's flushed skin. She was not sure why, but something snapped inside her, and the story of it all came spilling out. The fake marriage, James's meetings with Grace, and the entirety of their conversation that afternoon. Alastair said nothing as she told her tale, his arms tightening around her as she recounted all that had occurred. When she finished, they sat there for many moments, Alastair rubbing soothing circles on her arms as her tears dried and her breathing returned to normal. She was hit with an overwhelming exhaustion in the wake of all the distress her body and mind had undergone, laying her head against her brother's shoulder and letting her body relax against his.

"I'm going to kill him," Alastair said, voice choked with barely restrained anger. The lethal calm in his voice had her raising her head to look at him, his mouth a pinched line, his eyes hard as stone.

"No, Alastair, please, I- please do not say anything to him."

"He hurt you, he used you, and I will not allow him to continue to do so."

"I- I know he did. And I told him as much. Please, Alastair, it will only make things worse, more complicated. I will handle him when I... am in the headspace to do so, but for now, I would just like to rest."

His eyes softened at that, and she knew that his rage was not forgotten, that he would likely never forgive James for the things he had done to her, but that was an issue she would worry about at a later time, instead letting her brother scoop her up in his arms and carry her upstairs to her old bedroom. He laid her in her bed, and within moments she had drifted off. She awoke some hours later, seeing that night had fallen outside. Having slept through the late afternoon and evening, she felt wide awake in the hours so late they became early morning. So she had been lying there for hours, contemplating all that had occurred. She did not know when things had become so messy.

She worried how dreadfully awkward this would make the remaining months of their marriage, but Cordelia could not help but feel proud of herself. She had said what she felt, and she would not allow herself to feel guilty for it. She-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a fervent knock on the front door. She could not imagine who would visit them so early in the morning, if the pink light trickling through her window was any indication of the hour. She would not go answer it- she no longer lived here, so whoever it was was not here for her. She heard Alastair's footsteps tread downstairs and open the door, and then heard muffled bickering, her brother's voice rising in intensity as he and the stranger quarreled for a few minutes. Deciding to come to Alastair's aid, and perhaps just a little curious, Cordelia pulled on her dressing gown and snuck across the hallway to peak from the top of the stairs.

The two were arguing in hushed voices, likely Alastair's attempt not to wake her, so she could not tell who was standing on the other side of the doorframe. Until she stepped into view at the top of the stairs.

From this angle, she saw Alastair's back as he hurled hushed words at who she could now see was James, his cheeks tinted pink from the early morning chill. By the Angel, he looked as if he had not slept at all. The dark circles under his eyes were stark against his pale skin, his hair disheveled, the buttons on his shirt in the wrong holes. But the look in his eyes as he saw her, it was relief and anguish and love and desperation all mixed into one.

She had figured James would apologize eventually, but she had not anticipated it to be so soon, or for him to look so devastated. He called out to her, her name a prayer on his lips, but Alastair stopped him before he could say anything else.

"I have told you already James, you need to leave. You will only make things worse."

James did not so much as look at Alastair as he spoke to him, entirely focused on her, on the eye contact she found herself unable to break. He spoke as if Alastair had not even said anything, as if he was not even there. "Please, Cordelia, just let me explain. There are- there are things you need to know, things I need to explain. I just- please." The pleading in his voice made her chest seize; as angry as she was with him, she could not bear to see him in such distress, not when she could alleviate it.

She made her way to the bottom of the staircase. "Alright," she said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. James visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping inward, quietly mumbling "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Alastair whipped towards her, questions in his eyes. She only nodded her head, silently telling him it's okay. He scanned her face for another moment, as if checking for himself if she was stable enough to have this conversation. She could hardly blame him, considering the state she had shown up in yesterday. Content with what he found in her face, her brother turned back to the boy she loved and whispered, "If I see so much as one tear in her eyes after this, you are a dead man." He spoke in a voice laced with venom, sending a shudder down Cordelia's spine. She squeezed his arm as he retreated back towards his room, throwing one last glare at James before he disappeared down the hallway.

Cordelia returned her attention to the man standing in front of her, only to find his eyes already searching her own. He stumbled forward, grasping her hands in his. "Cordelia, I- I am so sorry, I-"

Her brow furrowed in concern. "James, please calm down. I do not hate you, there is no need to panic. Come, let's go to the sitting room." She tugged on his hand, pulling him behind her as the went into the sitting room. She sat on the couch, patting the spot next to her when James stood there awkwardly, as if unsure if she would want him that close to her.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Cordelia, you must understand how sorry I am. I never, never meant to make you feel that I was using you to sate some feeling of loneliness or boredom. I understand how it would feel that way to you, and I... I need you to know that it was never my intention to make you feel as though you were a second choice, or someone to fill Grace's role until she returned. I-"

Cordelia felt her heart cleaving in two at the sincerity in his eyes, at the way his voice broke as he spoke. And those were tears, tears shining in his eyes. This was breaking her heart. "James, please. I understand. You cannot control who you love, any more than you can control who you do not. I cannot blame you for not loving me, for it is not something you can decide, nor can I fault you for loving Grace. And I understand the need for companionship in the wake of heartbreak. I just... I cannot be that for you. I cannot be your contingency plan for when Grace decides she's through with you."

His eyes shuttered, as if her words hit him like a physical blow. "I know, Cordelia, by the Angel, I know. But I do not love Grace. I never have." He must have seen the confusion and doubt on her face, because he quickly added, "I know you may not believe me, I would not believe myself were I you, but... just hear my story, please. Then you are free to decide whatever you wish about me, but please just listen."

She nodded softly, her heart faltering at the way he hung his head. Whatever she had expected James to say, she was not prepared for what he told her. She reached for his hand as he told his tale, how the Blackthorns had deceived him, had taken control of him through that bracelet, had compelled him to love Grace. He explained how Magnus had visited after their argument yesterday and had put it together.

Tears slid down Cordelia's face as he recounted the horror he went through. Her heart broke as she imagined James, young and naive, doing something kind for a friend only to be chained by that old wretch. He was a child when Tatiana took his mind for her own, manipulated his life in order to satisfy whatever her sick plan was. She held James's hands as he told his story, pain shining in his eyes, and when he finished, she pulled him into her arms. He seemed a little surprised, but he soon relaxed into her touch, ragged sobs breaking from him as she rubbed her fingers in soothing circles on his back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck, and she let him cry for minutes or for hours, let him cry for the years of his life he had lost, for the heart that had been turned against him. "I am so sorry James, I am so sorry," she whispered over and over again into his hair. He wept until his tears ran out, and she held him for longer, whispering calming words to him, holding him up when he could not hold himself.

James lifted his head, eyes puffy and red, and looked at her again with that desperation. "But Cordelia, you have to understand- I do not love Grace, the bracelet only made me believe I did. That is why I kissed you in the Whispering Room, why I made plans for a future with us. She had taken the bracelet back, and my heart was free to follow its true desire. And when she took it back yesterday, I was again able to hear what my heart truly craved. That is why I said all those things to you yesterday: not because I was lonely and needed you to fill Grace's hole, but because I meant them, and was only then able to feel what my heart knew all along. Cordelia, I have loved you since we were children, since those days you cared for me when I had the Scarlet Fever. I was young and stupid and did not understand what I felt, and by the time I was old enough to, I was in the Blackthorn's grasp. But I never stopped loving you; underneath the layers of deceit and trickery, that one truth always pulsed in my heart, in my blood, even if the spell masked it. You are the most beautiful, wonderful person I have ever known. You are smart, and witty, and brave- braver than any of us. You are everything to me, everything, and I am so incredibly sorry for all that I have done to make you feel that I do not care for you. And I understand if this was an affront too large to forgive, if it was a pain too large to move past. I would not blame you if you want nothing to do with me, after the way I treated you all these years. But I cannot bear the thought that you would believe that I did not love you, would use you in such a way. I- I am sorry."

James dropped his head again, agony rippling over his features, and Cordelia reached over, grasping his chin and tilting his face so he had to look at her. How he could believe she would reject him because of what Tatiana did to him?

"James, listen to me. None of this is your fault. Not one part of it. You had no say in what happened to you. How can you believe I would hold this against you? I understand, James. It all makes sense now." His eyes filled with a hope, a light, she had not seen in a long while. Cordelia cradled his face between her hands. "I have loved you for years. I have never shied away from you before, and I will not do so now. You are not a bad person, nor have you done anything wrong. You underwent abuse. The Blackthorns are to blame, and we will make sure they are held accountable for their crimes, but for now, James, you can heal. And I will be here to help you through it."

His eyes brimmed with unshed tears, although they seemed of the happier sort. He grasped her wrists, twisting to kiss her palm. "I do not deserve you," he murmured against her skin. She bent her head to look into his eyes.

"You deserve every joy this world can offer you. Do not let what the Blackthorns did to you make you feel unworthy of happiness." He gave her a small smile, so full of adoration she thought her heart might stop beating entirely.

She suddenly felt shy under his gaze, a blush rising on her cheeks. "You meant it all?" she questioned, her eyes flicking down to his lips.

He tracked the movement, sliding his hands from her wrists all the way down her arms until they rested on her shoulders. "All of it and more. I love you so much, it feels like I cannot breathe when I look at you. And I know that we did not get married under the most ideal circumstances, but I do not regret it, not one moment of it. And if you wish to end our relationship at the conclusion of the year, of course, I will respect that, but I am inclined to spend the rest of my days by your side. I am not sure even a lifetime with you would be enough."

His words knocked the breath out of Cordelia. But where words failed her, she compensated by pressing her lips against his. He sighed into her mouth, his hands sliding down her back, pressing her against him until there was not an inch of space between them. He deepened the kiss, and she slid her hands into his hair, tugging at the fine stands. He broke away for a moment, grinning at her like a fiend, before kissing her again, more insistent this time. His hands gripped her waist and pulled her into his lap. She ran her hands down his chest, trying to memorize the feeling of him under her fingers. His hands traveled up and down her thighs, and he pulled his mouth away from hers, only to trail his lips down her throat. She gripped his hair, a moan pulled from the back of her throat at his ministrations, one he answered in kind.

She suddenly remembered where they were, remembered the last time a Carstairs child had a romantic moment in the public rooms at this house, and gently pushed James's face away. He whined at the distance, making Cordelia chuckle. "Perhaps we should take this somewhere more... private." His eyes glowed with hunger.

"Good thing I took the carriage," he smirked, "We can be home in fifteen minutes." Cordelia's toes curled at the promise laced in his words. He pulled her to her feet, their journey to the front door a slow one, as James periodically stopped to kiss her.

As they finally reached the doorway, Cordelia tugged on his hand. "I should probably tell Alastair I am leaving," she said. "And that we reconciled, so he won't come and kill you in your sleep tonight."

"Please do. From what he was saying this morning, I think he has put some detailed thought into how he would like to make me suffer." Cordelia giggled, and kissed him again, because she couldn't help herself.

As she made to pull away, she whispered into his ear, "I think a lifetime sounds like an excellent place to start."

#the last hours #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #grace blackthorn #alastair carstairs #matthew fairchild #christopher lightwood #anna lightwood #thomas lightwood #cassandra clare #jordelia #james x cordelia

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dyns33 · 4 years

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What about Michael and sweet witch!reader where he messed up and did something bad and he doesn’t want to tell them because he’s afraid they’ll be mad or disappointed in him

Ah this little babe... Michael is not perfect, he can lose his temper, he can be mean, he can feel attack and defend himself in the worst way possible, before regretting what he did. And, of course, more than be ashamed, more then being afraid of what Cordelia could do to him, he is afraid of what his little witch will think of him. Always. That's why he is trying is best to be a good boy. But, sometimes, our best is not enough.

He hadn't really wanted to do that. He knew that Madison had said that to joke, to tease him, as usual. But the tone had been more violent. The words harsher. Michael hadn't liked what she had said about him, about his past, about (Y/N), and before he could think or control himself, the flames from the fireplace had sprung and the arm of the witch had caught fire. Queenie and Zoe had rushed to help her and quickly everything was settled, Madison was just slightly burned, but it did not matter, with magic she would be quickly treated. Except that when they turned to Michael to reprimand him, he was gone. He had fled. The first thing some of the witches thought was that he had returned with the Satanists. That he had loved hurting Madison, that he regretted joining the Coven, and that he had returned to the way he was before. It was Madison herself who called out to them to shut up.

"He's been one of us for over two years now, so beware ! I pushed his buttons, I played with fire, and it's normal that I got burned. If he's gone, it's because he was afraid that you would react like that, thinking that he had done it on purpose, and it looks like he was right !"

"We have to find him." sighed Cordelia. "The poor boy must think that we are angry with him."

"Do you really think that worries him that much ? I think it is mainly the opinion of only one person who terrorizes him."

Indeed, she was not yet aware, reading in her room while listening to music, but Michael was only afraid of the reaction of his sweet (Y/N) when she would learn what he had done. His little witch was gentle, understanding, forgiving, but everyone had their limits. One day, she would be tired of all his nonsense. She would be very disappointed, thinking that he was not making any effort, that he was doing it on purpose, as when his grandma thought that it amused him to kill animals or people, while he was forced, pushed by a power that he did not control. Now Michael understood why Constance, despite all her good will and desire to take care of him, had given up. Why Ben had given up. And he was afraid that (Y/N) would do the same thing one day. Maybe Madison was fine, but he could have hurt her really bad if he wanted to, and for a few seconds, he wanted to. He could have killed her. He could have destroyed her soul, and it would have been impossible to bring her back to life. He hadn't done it, but he could have, and he could still do it the next time someone angered him. The worst would be that he hurt his little witch unwittingly, in an excess of rage. Michael didn't want that. To protect her, and to protect the Coven, it was better for him to disappear, even if he really wanted to stay with (Y/N). He was sobbing in an alley, under the rain, not knowing where to go. Out of question to go back to Miss Mead. He had promised never to follow his father's path again and he would keep his word. But what to do then ? He was alone.

"Michael ?"

Her voice. Her voice so sweet, so reassuring. He didn't deserve to hear it, he didn't deserve to see her, so Michael didn't look up at (Y/N) as she leaned over him with her umbrella to shelter him from the rain . He just sobbed louder as she put her hand on his back.

"Sorry. Sorry."

"What happened ? Why did you leave ?"

She did not know. The witches hadn't explained anything to her, just saying that Michael was missing and needed to be found. It was therefore up to him to admit his fault, and bear the consequences, seeing all the disappointment in her eyes. He just said again and again that he was really sorry.

"Mikey, calm down. Breathe and tell me that happened."

"I... burned Madison's arm. I didn't want to... Well, I wanted to, but not really. It was not to hurt her, but to keep her quiet. So that she would stop. She said horrible things and I didn't like it. I was angry, I had no control over anything. I'm sorry."

"I see. Feelings and magic do not mix well. Anger, sadness, fear... Sometimes we do things because of all this, that we regret, and when we have powers like us, it can have terrible consequences. But it's not your fault. And you can learn to control yourself. You already know how to control your magic, now you have to control your emotions."

"I don't know if I can..."

"Of course you can." she said with her beautiful smile. "I trust you. I believe in you ! You have accomplished so much ! You can succeed everything Mikey, you only have to stop doubting yourself. You are not bad. And it is not because you make mistakes that it changes. If you make a mistake, you apologize, you fix it, and you just don't do it again. But don't go, please. I was scared when Cordelia told me that you had fled and that she didn't know where you were."

Michael didn't want to scare his little witch, he didn't want her to suffer or worry because of him, so he swore he wouldn't do it again. Together, keeping her hand very tightly, they returned to Robichaux, where he apologized to Madison, who shrugged saying that it was only a scratch and that he was really a drama queen to react like this. No one seemed angry with him, even comforting him when they saw his red eyes, which indicated that he had been crying. But Michael didn't want to see anyone other than (Y/N), whom he hugged, his face between her breasts, to forget what had happened. But without really forgetting, to not make the same mistake again, and risk disappointing his sweet witch, who believed in him. Michael did not think he deserved all her love and trust, but instead of complaining, crying, fleeing, he decided to do everything to be worthy of it. It was because she believed so much in him and his ability to be good, that Michael believed in it too.

#american horror story apocalyspe #michael langdon #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader

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