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dontmindmyshadowhunting · 19 hours ago
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Meet Ash Morgenstern (fan fic)
This is “Welcome to Faerieland”, a sequel to my Kitty Fan Fic "To never being parted" although it can be read as a standalone story. I am introducing Ash Morgenstern, Drusilla Blackthorn and Jaime Rosales. This is the first Chapter.
AO3 Link here.
*****
Kyra had been staring at her angel since the sun had risen and its rays had started filtering through the curtains. Even if he had fallen asleep with his mask on, even if he had insisted on keeping it the whole time they had been together, she could guess how delicate his facial features must be underneath. She was a good judge of that. She could see from the structure of his collaborne, the sharpness of his jawline, the shape of his enticing lips and long fingers - she had experienced just how skilled they were at providing pleasure - that his face would be just as perfect as the rest of his body was.
One small peek. After all, he had been sleeping the whole time she had been watching him. He would never know. She sucked in a breath and reached for his mask. His hand shot up so fast it was a blur. In the blink of an eye, he had his long fingers wrapped around her wrist. He was not hurting her but his grip was firm. His intelligent green eyes were now wide open, boring into hers and she could not help but cringe.
“So- sorry,” she said, her voice quavering. “I just wanted to get a look at the pretty face of the man who gave me such a good time last night.”
“How do you know it’s pretty?” The angel answered.
“I just know. Everything else about you is.”
“You don’t know a thing about me,” he said, but his tone was not harsh. Simply stating a fact.
He got up and started dressing. She propped her head on her arm and enjoyed the sight. He really was beautiful, impressively tall, his body lean and strong, his pale white skin glorious though covered in black Marks and scars. More so than on any Shadowhunter she had ever been with. He had refused to take off the black leather collar he wore around his neck as if he was hiding something... more scars? It had made her wonder if his life had been as easy as he made it appear at first glance. She knew how soft his white blond hair was from running her hands through them repeatedly while he had made love to her.
She had met him at a masquerade ball party. As soon as he had entered the room, all eyes had turned towards him, as if he were a magnet. Power seemed to radiate from him, giving him an unearthly presence. Amidst his crowd of admirers, he had singled her out. That had been a shock. She had never been the pretty one of her Faerie siblings. She had plain brown hair, where her sisters had beautiful blond hair. She was curvy, while her sisters were as thin as models. She had felt so lucky when he had walked up to her and started twirling locks of her hair lazily. He had said he found their colour beautiful. “They’re boring,” she had answered. “Brown. Not like your beautiful blond hair that looks like silver.” He had smiled, a radiant smile that had given her butterflies. “People usually want the opposite of what they have, don’t they?” She had laughed with him and had wanted to kiss him then and there. She had wanted to tell him everything about her and she had. He had listened patiently as she had told her all about her life, spilled all of her secrets, shared all of her insecurities.
She had wanted to turn the lights off but he had told her she didn’t need to hide. When she had explained how people, including her sisters, kept telling her that there was “too much of her”, he had lifted his eyebrow in disbelief and answered “Lord, what fools these immortals be!” taking a few liberties while quoting Shakespeare*. I think I am in love with him, she had thought then.
When she had brought him to her small flat in Manhattan, she had felt a bit embarrassed at first. As plain as his clothes looked, black boots, black pants, black shirt and black leather jacket, she knew from her professional experience in fashion that they were all French designers’ clothes. But he had observed everything in wonder, wide-eyed, like a child brought to a theme park. She had thought it was an odd sight, seeing Zeus in the middle of her shabby living room. He had marvelled at her collection of Marvel figures as if they were Faberge eggs. When he had scanned her bookshelves, he had nodded to himself unconsciously as if ticking off the books he had read. It looked as if he had read them all. When he had picked a familiar statuette on her dresser, she had blushed.
“Oh, this is just an old bauble I bought at a garage sale. It’s a creature from…”
He had turned to her with a half condescending, half good-humoured look in his eyes. “I know who Gollum is.”
“Oh I see. A Tolkien fan? Have you read the books or watched the movies?”
“Both,” he had answered, putting the statuette back in its exact spot. “There's not much else to do where I live.” This was one of the most personal information he had shared with her, and she had not missed the bitterness in his tone.
“Which character do you relate to?”
“Aragorn, I guess,” he had said after a moment.
“That’s funny,” she had answered. “Because you look like Legolas.” He had laughed at that, throwing his head back. A throaty careless laugh, and his rigid stance had considerably relaxed. Stay with me forever, she had thought then.
“Why? because he is uncertain whether he is worthy of the crown and fears he won’t be able to discern what is good and ill?” She had said playfully.
“That’s only in the movies,” he had said. His tone had suddenly turned deadly serious. Then, slowly, a grin had split his face, all gravity gone.
“But no. Because he has a hot girlfriend.”
That’s how he had been the entire time she had spent with him. Wearing a mask, both literally and metaphorically. He was right. She knew nothing about him, not even his name.
When he was fully dressed, he moved to the window and opened it wordlessly. Even at such an early hour, she could hear the sound of traffic jams and honking cabs.
“You didn’t even tell me your name,” she said.
“What does it matter?” he answered, staring out the window, his muscular back to her. “I am but a dream.”
“It matters if I want to see you again. Will I? See you again?”
He said nothing, just turned to smile at her before jumping out of the window. She gasped audibly. Her flat was on the seventeenth floor of a twenty-storey building…
She sprung from the bed and ran to the window. Leaning out, she peered through the usual throng of pedestrians walking hurriedly down the streets of Manhattan. No sign that anything had happened, that anybody had crashed on the pavement. He had simply disappeared, leaving behind nothing but the memory of a winter night’s dream.
*****
*"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" is a quote from A Midsummer Night's Dream, by Shakespeare (3.2.110-115).
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silver-lily-louise · 23 hours ago
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Written for @shadowhunterbingo, ‘Fake Dating’ square. Catarina asks Magnus for a favour. 
(Magnus & Cat friendship with bonus Malec) 
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returnofthegray · a day ago
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greetings amigos and welcome back to writing with diz
will’s duck onesie
will finds a picture of his face photoshopped onto a duck onesie on tumblr
this leads to a lot of laughs, some stolen breakfast foods, and even more love
relationship: tessa gray/jem carstairs/will herondale (herongraystairs)
characters: tessa gray, jem carstairs, will herondale
tags: much fluff very cute, based on a tumblr post (which you can find here), domestic herongraystairs au, modern au (idk the technicalities of it but it’s fine) it’s cute so all good
please let me know what you think of it!
taglist: @completekeefitztrash (let me know if you want to be added or removed)
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silver-lily-louise · 2 days ago
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Magnus and Raymond have their first real fight. (Part of my Malec Past Lives AU - Raymond is Alec’s next life.)
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illyrian-shadows · 4 days ago
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okay so i don’t think i’m going to be able to get the lost requests back. i’m so so sorry to all those who had sent me a request and i hadn’t written it but i won’t be able to write them now😫
on that note, if you would like to re-request anything you asked for that wasn’t written, please do and i’ll do my best to write them for you!
i have updated my requests list (my pinned post on my account) with some new fandoms/characters i’m willing to write for, so please request away as i am in need of new requests😅
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livvyheronstairs · 7 days ago
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I am on a roll right now! Two fanfictions and a chapter of Believer? What?
There are some Chain of Iron spoilers in this one for the few who might not have read it but they are quite minor and I have put a discreet warning as to when they begin.
Well I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. There are only three more left and an epilogue and this story will officially be finished.
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delilahssbard · 7 days ago
Hello, I love your writing! 🌸💞
Maybe 31 with Thomastair if you'd like?
Hi anon and thank you! 🌼 I can't remember when you sent this ask, perhaps in winter. I'm sorry for this long wait, but I haven't feeling too inspired for a while. Now I think I'm back and I hope you like this fluffy fic!
Prompt: “I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me.” Ship/Characters: Thomastair, Thomas Lightwood and Alastair Carstairs Words: 1347 Type: Fluff
The sound of something hitting the floor wakes Alastair. Then someone sighs heavily, and new noises invade the room. He’s disoriented for a moment. Is it music? The lights are dim but he realizes that it isn’t night. No, the grandfather clock on the wall signs a little past two in the afternoon. He jerks his head too hard, noticing that the blinds are drawn, and feels pain in his neck. He’s sitting on an armchair, a velvet armchair that might have looked comfortable to sit down to read, but not to sleep on. Somebody's watching him from the other piece of furniture of the small apartment. He flinches. Then his eyes adjust to the new colors of the room, and he recognizes the other person. He tries to hide his surprise and joy, but he’s sure they’re seeping through his face. He doesn’t need to hide anything.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Thomas apologizes. Alastair wants to tell him that he shouldn’t. He sat down on that armchair because he was thinking about what he was doing in another town, wishing he would be quick and return so he would not feel alone.
But he doesn’t.
“You mean the music?” Alastair wonders instead, frowning and scratching the back of his shoulders. They are stiff. Ah, sitting on that armchair was a bad idea, and now he didn’t want Thomas to believe that he was uncomfortable and that he needed help.
Thomas’ eyes glance at Alastair’s hand, and he stands up, coming towards him as he speaks. “It was meant to be a surprise, but I stumbled on something on the carpet,” he rolls his eyes. “I woke you up.”
“I would have woken up sooner if I knew you were coming,” Alastair says, biting his lip. “And prepared… well, something.”
“I don’t need anything,” confesses Thomas, moving behind the armchair. “While you look like you need a massage,” he suggests. He doesn’t wait for Alastair’s reply and he just starts moving his hands behind his neck.
Alastair is about to say that it’s not true that he needs that, and that he is fine on his own, with his neck hurting because of the damn armchair. But he doesn’t. The truth is that he loves when Thomas does that. Not just the massage he’s doing right now. Anything. He’s one to keep things to himself. He’s been like that for his whole life, and it’s hard to unlearn pretending to be okay, not to need things. Thomas was good at seeing through the cracks, and Alastair decided to let him take care of his neck. He closes his eyes as Thomas’ fingers work their magic. Really, he’s just pressing his fingers, Alastair -
“I want to dance,” Alastair says out of the blue, while Thomas’ hands still graze his neck. A jolt runs through his spine. “Please, don’t stop,” he begs, not feeling his partner’s fingers anymore. The back of his neck is suddenly cold.
Thomas laughs, but he still doesn’t continue. “You’re greedy,” he teases, his mouth close to Alastair’s ear. Another thrill shakes his shoulders, making the hair behind his neck stand up. Aching for more.
This is how you make me feel, Thomas Lightwood. Like I’m on the top of a cliff and jumping in the water is my only escape. I’m afraid of the heights, but I would leap into the sea and face my fear, if you hold my hand.
Alastair grins, and gazes up at Thomas. “You’ve been in Paris for a week. I deserve to be greedy.” He stands up, ignoring that he has revealed too much; has been too forward. Their relationship is young, there are still many things they have to tell each other, but there isn’t a guide on how to be with someone, nor a right time where you can be forward with your feelings.
Thomas is already offering his hand, and Alastair doesn’t hesitate when he takes it, interlacing his fingers with his. The music playing is a waltz, but they are not following it. They are out of tune, but none of them complains. They’re going at their pace. Like always.
“It feels like a dream,” Alastair whispers, gazing up at the man he loves.
Thomas grins, his whole face lights up. He is blushing. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I knew you would love this sound.”
“I didn’t mean the music,” Alastair sighs, holding Thomas’ stare. Almost stopping because those hazel eyes distract him. “I mean this.”
Thomas nods, and chuckles. He looks away, almost embarrassed like Alastair used to be a few minutes ago when he woke him up from his sleep. “I regret to inform you that this is not a dream. This is real. We are real. And I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me.”
“There’s no need to remind me,” Alastair says, his heart is about to jump out of his chest. “I am not possessive by any means. Though I’d make an exception for you.” He doesn’t stop staring at Thomas, and winks. He has the urge to see his reaction. He is curious, even though he knows that Thomas hasn’t shown anything but affection for him ever since they started. And, most importantly, Thomas didn’t treat him as a secret. On the other hand, he granted Alastair what he never dared to believe someone would ever do for him. He put him first.
It happened during one of the mundane events Alastair disliked so much but had to attend out of courtesy, a few days after he agreed to get to know Thomas better. To see if they would last. They still weren’t officially together, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t scared, for he feared history would repeat itself. He had to tread lightly.
Alastair thought that something was off when he saw Thomas wait for him outside of the venue. He had come alone, so he didn’t have to invent excuses. When Alastair saw Thomas’ serious stare, he thought: this is it. We’re done. He made his hands into fists as he climbed the stairs. People were passing by, but he could only stare at Thomas as he felt a void in his stomach, and he hadn’t even eaten anything.
“I need to tell you something, and it can’t wait.”
Those were Thomas’ words. Alastair stilled, trying to keep his expression neutral, and nodded. What else could he do? Maybe he should stop being such a pessimist?
They went into a private room, and Thomas sighed audibly after closing the door. “I can’t wait anymore. I’m sick of waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“To tell everyone that you’re mine,” Thomas said, and shook his head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound possessive.”
“I understand what you mean,” Alastair replied.
“And what do you say?”
“About being possessive?”
“The first thing,” Thomas managed a tiny smile. “Tell everyone.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? Even though my friends still don’t know the truth, and only my sister and Lucie know,” he explained. “I don’t want you to be my secret.”
“I don’t want to be your secret either, Thomas,” Alastair murmured, and it was as if saying it out loud had freed him. He felt lighter. “If we have to stay together, we -” he sighed. “I don’t want to hide.”
“I don’t want to hide either,” Thomas answered, opening the door. “That’s why, if you agree, I suggest we enter the ballroom together. Hand in hand.”
“I never thought you were so reckless, Thomas Lightwood,” he said, offering his arm.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
“Believe me, I intend to find out,” Alastair smirked.
Thomas smiled. “Likewise.”
That was the first time they danced together.
“Well, I am,” Thomas tells him in the present, his voice rises to make a point, and his hand grips the back of Alastair’s jacket. Alastair is beside himself, and the only thing he can do is reach out to Thomas’ lips to let him know how he feels about that.
Taglist (if you want to be added or removed, send me a PM): @princesslucinda @kit-12 @immortal-enemies @lucian-evander @esa-emery @danieldyers @blackthorn-trash @rinadragomir @fortunesandfables @itsdaughterofthemoon @silvenys@thomastair3 @livvyheronstairs @ holding-infinity-and-a-book @lovelaces @axoloteca @autumnangel20 @cordelia-cardale @lucie-blackthorns @thephcastcouldsteponme-please
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beclynn-herondale · 8 days ago
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Lifes missed chances
(a little something I wrote for Céline and Jace because I have no impulse control).
Getting poisoned by demons was part of being a Shadowhunter. Sometimes the poison was more severe though, and this was one of those times.
The last thing Jace remembered before he passed out was Alec catching him, his eyes flooded with concern and fear. Now he opened his eyes to find he was in some dream place. Or at least, that's what he assumed it was.
He remembered reading once about how on rare occasions before you die, you can get stuck between a space of living and death. More magic that couldn't really be explained. So he assumed he was dying, or that he was fighting to get back to the living. He hoped it was the latter; he didn't want to leave behind Alec and Clary, and the rest of the ones he loved.
He sat up. Then looked down at his hand to see if it was see through or something, It wasn't. Guess he could tell Simon he was wrong if he ever made it back.
He got to his feet and walked along a corridor. This place must of taken on the form of a manor house. It reminded him a little of the Herondale manor. As he passed many doors, there was one he heard music coming from.
Curiousity getting the better of him. He pushed it open, finding himself in an elegant music room. The room itself was lovely: the walls were a pleasent gray, painted with golden leaf designs. lined with shelves here and there that held books about music and hand written music pieces. There were couches for people to sit and listen.
A grand piano stood in the center of the room, on its bench sat a woman; she had curly blonde hair, cut just above her shoulder. She seemed to be admiring the piano.
She sensed him and looked up. The face that turned on him, was beautiful, and familiar in an unknown way, as if he was supposed to know her but didn't. She smiled and it lit her face up.
"Hello," she said. She had a french accent. "Would you like to join me?"
He hesitated. He didn't know her, but something in him wanted to go sit with her. Slowly he walked over to the piano and sat on the other end of its bench. "Who are you?" he asked.
"You wouldn't know me," she said. "I'm probably almost completely forgotten at this point."
Jace felt a stab of sympathy for the woman. To be forgotten, to never be remembered by anyone, had to be one of the worst things he could think of. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be," she said, turning to him with a kind smile. Her eyes were kind, and a lovely green. "I know who you are, Jace Herondale."
"How—" he was actually shocked, which didn't happen to him often.
"I may be dead, but that doesn't mean those of us in the afterlife don't know about the latest drama and gossip. Or the latest heroes. In fact, I know someone in the afterlife that loves to watch the drama unfold"
"There's an afterlife?"
"In a sense. Yes," she said.
"Well, it's nice to know there will still be gossip after I die," he joked.
She laughed. "Yes, well, you'd be surprised that the biggest gossipers are those that were quiet when they were alive."
"They held it in for too long," he joked again.
Getting another laugh from her. He didn't think he was being that funny but she seemed to genuinely find him funny. "You have so much personality."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He raised an eyebrow.
"It means, I think you're wonderful."
"You don't know me."
"No. I don't. But I wished I could have."
At that he looked at her more closely. Wondering why this woman had seemed so familiar, and then it hit him. Some kind of instinct. Could she be. . .
"Are you. . . Céline Montclaire?"
She jumped in surprise. "How do you—?"
He was lost for words. Here she was; the woman that was supposed to be his mother but never was. The woman who killed herself while pregnant with him. The woman who he questioned of ever loving him. But also, the woman who deserved better, and who had been forgotten and only remembered as a disgrace among her fellow Shadowhunters.
"Why?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"Why did you do it?"
"Do what? You'll have to be more specific," she said gently, obviously not wanting to upset him. "I did so many things." She seemed regretful.
"Why did you kill yourself when you were pregnant with me? Was I not worth anything to you? Did you not love me?" He remembered looking into suicide after the wars were over, wanting to know more about her. And found himself not able to completely blame her. The hopelessness and pain you had to be in to do that to yourself, the need for relief. Suicide wasn't shameful but that didn't mean it didn't hurt the people in your life. but he also couldn't help feeling upset at her, for not thinking about him. But he only felt terrible for doing it. It was a cycle that he hated.
"Oh, baby mine," she said, her voice sweet and sorrowful. "I always wanted you. I loved. I promise. I loved you. I wanted you." She reached out for his hand, he let her take it. "I didn't kill myself. After Stephen died, I was struck with grief, yes. But it wasn't completely for myself. I was grieving for you, for the fact that you would never get to know your father. When he was killed on that mission, I knew it wasn't an accident; I knew Valentine had had him killed. And I panicked, because I knew I was next. I made plans to vanish, to run away and leave Alicante behind. To take you far away, so you would never be used by Valentine. At least, not anymore than he had already. I found out about what he was doing to me, how he was giving me stuff to eat that would give you special abilities, that he was experimenting on my child. But—" She broke off, struggling to get the last words out.
"But what?"
"Valentine found out. He and Hodge stopped me from leaving. Hodge confronted me in manor, saying that this was how it had to be. He attacked me, and I fought back, fighting for you. but he got the upper hand. And even as I laid on the floor, knowing I was dying. I still tried to fight for you, to stay alive for you. I didn't want you to die." She looked at him. He glanced at her sideways, seeing that she had unshed tears in her eyes. "I just wanted you to live. To be happy. To be the most loved child. I never wanted you to ever have to know what it was like to grow up the way I did. To be so used and broken and alone. But you weren't the most loved, and you did get used and broken, and you were alone for so long. Because of the mistakes I made. So instead you got Valentine—" she lost it then.
"It's not your fault." He felt a lump in the back of his throat. "It's not your fault. Please, don't cry." He didn't know what else to say, but he didn't want to see her cry anymore.
She looked at him. "You're so good." She kept saying stuff like that. "I only want you to know the truth. I wish it didn't have to be so gruesome."
Many things were, he thought to himself.
"You know, my father, Stephen," he said. "He said that your family brutalized you. And that you only ever wanted to feel safe and loved and protected."
She nodded slowly. "Yes. But I never got to feel safe, Not really. And I'm not sure I ever got to know what love really was. I had hoped I would with you. But never got the chance."
"Life is full of missed chances," he said, remembering what Jem had told him once.
"I suppose that's true." She looked at him for a moment. Hesitated, then said. "Can I give you a hug?"
He hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Yes."
She hugged him a little awkwardly for a moment. He put his arms around her and felt the awkwardness fade.
She pulled away, taking his face in her hands. "You know," she said, voice breaking a little. "You're Incredible. You're beautiful. And I'm so happy you survived. I only regret that you had to ever know the pain of being brutally broken and used. And I wish I could change that, believe me when I say that."
He looked into the eyes of the woman he never got to call mom. She was crying and looked regretful. "You know," he said, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat. "Someone I know always says 'Regret is such a pointless emotion.'"
She smiled at him, brushing hair out of his face. "You're so sweet."
What was he supposed to say? Thank you? I know? Instead he asked. "Was there really no one who knew you?"
She shook her head. "No. But that lies on my shoulders. I never let anyone in. Well, except for Stephen, and I think he might have seen me as a friend at the end there. But even he totally fully know me that well."
"But he never loved you?"
"Not in the way I wished he would. There was friendship though. And he was excited for you. He wanted to do better for you. But his mistakes caught up to him as well." She paused for a moment, looking taken aback. "If only you could turn back time."
"If only," he whispered.
"I wish I could have been your mom," she said. "But I'm thankful you have Maryse."
"You know?"
"Yes. And if I could thank her personally, I would."
"None of them talk about you," he said, sadly. "They talk about my father. But it's rare for anyone to talk about you."
"I told you, I'm probably mostly forgotten. I wasn't the memorable type," she said. "And I was never that close with them. I think most of them hated me, if I'm being honest."
"Or maybe it's just that history often leaves out the women. Or lets them be forgotten. And people always hate those they do not understand."
She blinked at him. Then smiled and ruffled his hair. "You're a good man." She seemed proud.
"I guess."
"Tell me something."
"What?"
"Do you know any warlocks?"
"Yeah."
"Do the ones from L.A. surf?" She wiped her tears away.
Jace was confused but laughed. "I don't know for sure. But I know I could compete with them."
She laughed through her tears. "You're very funny."
"Humor is my thing," he said, with a wink.
"I see," she said, with a humorous tone."It does give room for laughing through the pain."
Perhaps he was a little like his mother. "Exactly."
"Tell me something else, do you like blades?"
He grinned. "I love them. In fact, I always carry several on me at all times."
"Good boy," she said, approvingly, and patted him on the back.
He played her a song ok the piano. And they talked about music for a while.
And then he felt as if something was pulling him back. "I guess that means it's time for me to go," he said, a little sadly. He wanted to speak with her longer. To get know more about her.
"I guess so," she smiled. "Remember I love you. And that I'm proud of you. And that you're always enough, no matter what stupid people say."
"People are stupid," he agreed, and smiled back. Then felt tears start to fall. "I wish I could stay longer."
"Me too. But you have to get back. Your Alec and Clary need you. Your family needs you. The world too, it needs your light." She kissed his forehead. "I love you."
"I. . .I wish I could have known you."
She nodded. "One more thing," she looked at him. "I like Clary and Alec. Good choices."
"They are aren't they?"
Then everything went dark again.
____
He woke to the white walls of the Institute's infirmary. He was lying in one of the beds in it, a blanket tucked tightly around him. Alec and Clary hovering over him, their faces pale and concerned.
"I think he's awake," said Clary, she sounded anxious.
"Jace," Alec said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"
He blinked, and felt something damp run down his face. "I. . . I'm alive?"
"Yes," said Clary, about to cry. "You're alive. you're fine."
"You just need to rest and let the poison completely leave your system. Magnus healed you and took care of most of it." He looked at him, more serious now. "Why are you crying? Is everything all right? Did you have a nightmare?"
"No. It wasn't a nightmare. . .it was a dream." That's what it was right? Surely he hadn't actually met his mother? But it felt real, and he remembered it vividly. He could tell them, and they'd probably believe him. "This is going to sound insane, but. . ."
Slowly he explained what had happened to him. About his mother. and what she told him.
Clary looked shocked and Alec was very pale. "Do you not believe me?" He needed them to know it wasn't the normal occurrence. And he needed to know that it was real. "I know it sounds impossible. But, I know it wasn't the usual black-out-dream situation."
"Of course I believe you ," said Clary, pushing his hair back from his face gently.
"Me too," said Alec. "It's just—it's just even with this information, there's nothing we can do—"
Jace cut him off. "I know," he said. "But I know the truth. And somehow, I think that's what matters."
Alec smiled at him fondly. "You're getting all serious and soft," he teased. "You need sleep."
Clary nodded in agreement and kissed his forehead. "Sleep, honey," she said. "We'll stay here with you."
Alec took his hand. "Always."
He drifted back off to sleep. This time dreaming of surfing warlocks, eating chocolate crepes and joking with someone he could have called mom. At least, he knew the truth now. His mother did care for him and she didn't kill herself.
Tag list: @khaleesiofalicante @chibi-tsukiko @spotsandclawsthings @megs-readstoomuch @magnus-the-maqnificent @replayfootsteps @my-archerboy @jazzkaurtheglorious @simply-ellas-stuff @bookfast-at-tiffanys
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To never being parted (final chapter)
This is Chapter 5 (and final Chapter) of the mini sequel to my flower cards inspired Kitty Fan Fic “Am I Forgotten?”
AO3 Link here.
It’s a sex scene - and yes I am blushing as I post this - so if you are not in for R-rated sexytimes, don’t click the keep reading tag…
****
Kit opened his bedroom door and froze.
Ty was lying on his bed, his back to him. He was only wearing his boxer shorts, and his long legs were tangled in the blanket, its white color melting with Ty’s alabaster complexion. Kit could not help but smile at the way Ty always took things so literally.
Kit moved soundlessly to stand next to the bed. For a moment, he just watched Ty, observed the way his chest rose and fell with each of his soft exhalations. He was so beautiful that Kit was afraid to touch him only to discover that he wasn’t real. He was wearing his headphones on and Kit could hear the low sound of music emanating from them.
Kit took a deep breath before he shed all his clothes and lay down next to Ty, entirely naked. As he gently removed Ty’s headphones from his ears, Kit could hear the music louder and more distinctly.
He looked around to find Ty’s phone on the bedside table. The mobile phone screen showed that the music playing was Gnossienne N°1 by Erik Satie. Kit moved his arm over Ty’s body to press the pause button but his aim wasn’t perfect and he ended up launching the next song. It was from Erik Satie as well, a song called “Je Te Veux.” He wasn’t fluent in French, but he knew enough to translate the words. I Want You. He couldn’t help but smile at the irony.
He tried a second time and managed to pause the music. As he withdrew his hand from the bedside table, Kit was startled as he caught a pair of silver gray eyes staring at him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You didn’t.”
Kit started stroking Ty’s exposed arm, with a light touch of his fingers. He wanted to feel Ty’s skin against his, to share their heat.
He edged closer to Ty, until there was no space left between them. Ty could probably feel Kit’s arousal against his back, but Kit didn’t care. Not after everything that had happened between them.
He heard Ty’s sharp intake of breath. “Something wrong, Ty?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“No,” Ty whispered. “You can come closer.”
Kit laughed, making both their bodies shake. “I can’t come closer than that. I really can’t. You know that. I am as close as I can be, unless…”
Kit felt heat rushing to his face and his heart fluttering in his chest as he processed. He swallowed hard.
Ty said nothing. He reached for the drawer of Kit’s nightstand and Kit shivered at the sudden loss of heat. It did not take long, and Kit felt all the blood in his body rush to his groin as he saw what Ty had retrieved. A condom. How the hell did he know where to…? Never mind.
“I… I don’t know how to use this.” Ty’s voice was barely a whisper. “Theoretically, I do. But I never had the chance to practice…”
“It’s okay,” Kit choked, wondering how he had found his voice. He took the condom and put it on with shaking fingers, as Ty turned to watch with an academic interest.
Ty shed the last piece of clothing separating them, then went back to his former position, his back against Kit’s bare torso, as if he could not make himself look at Kit. Kit caught a glimpse of Ty’s red cheeks before he turned his face away.
“Er… Ty, I am not going to go anywhere like this, let me…” Gently, Kit directed Ty so that he was half kneeling half lying, his legs slightly parted.
Kit caressed Ty’s length with one hand, while the other held Ty’s, their fingers interlocking. After a little while, he used his hand to direct himself and close the gap, breaking the last barrier between them. As he started to move inside Ty, he felt Ty stiffen, saw his eyes widening and his lips parting in surprise, and froze.
“Do you want me to stop? I can stop at any time if you don’t feel like going further.”
“No,” said Ty, in a muffled voice, as he squeezed his eyes shut, buried half his face in the pillow and clutched the material tightly with his hands. “Don’t stop.”
Kit pushed further inside Ty, but slowly, taking his time, all the while murmuring to Ty that everything was okay, that he loved him, that he was beautiful. That he could say no at any time.
Ty didn’t answer. His face was still turned away, and Kit felt him relax little by little, as he feathered kisses across Ty’s shoulder, against his neck, buried his face in Ty’s hair.
When Kit was fully embedded, shivers of unbidden pleasure ran up his spine and he stopped moving.
Holy shit. Sweet Mary, Mother of God. This felt like… Heaven. So good. Too good… Kit was going to be finished before it had even started.
He shook his head sharply, trying to clear it. This could not happen. Think, think about something gross. Mantid Demons. Ravener Demons. Drevak demons. Disgusting little beasts.
“Ty,” he said, holding still. “Ty, I am sorry I just need a little moment. To… to get my bearings.”
“It’s okay,” Ty replied, in a soothing tone, his voice muffled against the pillow. “So do I.”
Kit came back to his senses. Ty would not mind. This was not about performance. This was just two people in love with each other, trying to be as close as they could possibly be. If they could melt into each other, so would they.
A flash of memories. Their fifteen-year-old selves in Cornwall. Their eighteen-year-old selves in a nightclub. “I don’t mind if it’s you.”
I don’t mind if it’s you, Ty. I don’t mind if it’s you.
Kit started pressing his hips against Ty with a renewed purpose, each of his thrusts eliciting a drowning noise from Ty, until Ty suddenly moved with him, instinctively, and they both moved together, blissful heat building up through their intertwined bodies.
As Kit now welcomed the waves of pleasure rolling over his entire body, he murmured encouragement in Ty’s hair, telling him he was doing great, telling him how good it felt to be inside him. How perfect.
Ty’s raspy moans grew louder and louder, his long fingers clutching the sheets, until he choked, “Kit- I can’t… I can’t think... I am losing control.” And he did lose it. Kit felt Ty’s whole body tense as he released himself in the bedsheets with a savage groan.
It was all Kit needed to reach his own orgasm, a second after Ty, his legs shaking and his eyes blurring with tears, as he buried his face in Ty’s hair. He cried some words he couldn’t make out through the blood pounding in his ears and poured himself inside his condom.
Kit withdrew himself and rolled onto his back, breathing deeply to regain his normal heartbeat. Ty turned to watch him through his long eyelashes, his eyes half closed. His cheeks were flushed, his hair tousled, and he looked absolutely breathtaking. One of the corners of his mouth lifted, as if he found something entertaining.
“What?” asked Kit, smiling in turn, though his breathlessness.
“When you… you kept calling my name. My full name. Tiberius.”
“I did?” asked Kit. “Well, it is a beautiful name. So are you. Beautiful, I mean. That was my very first thought the first time we met.”
“You mean, when I was holding a knife to your throat?” Ty asked, one of his eyebrows raised. He sounded dubious.
“Exactly,” Kit replied, grinning. “You were holding a knife to my throat, and all I could think of was how beautiful you were. Come to think of it, it does make me sound shallow.”
“I think you are beautiful,” Ty said. “Does that make me shallow?” He cocked his head. He seemed genuinely curious and Kit could not help but feel touched.
“Of course not, Ty. It only means you have excellent taste.”
Ty chuckled.
They were now lying on the mattress facing each other. Ty’s head rested on his hands, brought together as if in a prayer. Kit stroked Ty’s cheek and brought Ty’s head against his neck, so he could kiss his forehead.
“The first time we met…” Ty said. “I saw the defiance in your eyes, the pride with which you held yourself, although you were a mundane – or so I thought – with a knife against his throat. You even fought back and got me to lose my hold on you for a moment, although you had absolutely no training. I was struck then by how brave you were. And I must admit, I looked into your blue eyes and, for the first time in my life, realized that I liked what I saw.”
“It’s strange to look back and realize that the people I thought were invading my home were… in fact, my real home.”
“Is that what you believe?” Ty asked. Both his eyebrows raised, and Kit saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. “So you are never going to leave me again?”
“Are you kidding? Now that I know what it feels like to be inside you, I am going to move in and live there.”
Ty gasped.
“I am messing with you, Ty. I am not speaking literally. This would be…”
“Technically impossible?” Ty offered. Kit chuckled.
“On a more serious note, I would love it if we moved in together. Someday. When you are ready.”
Ty’s breath hitched.
“You really mean it? You are never going to leave me again?”
Kit kissed Ty’s forehead.
“To never being parted, Ty.”
“To never being parted, Kit.”
*****
Two hours later, Kit was roused from his sleep by urgent kisses on his eyelids, nose, cheeks… A bite on his… earlobe?
He opened one blurry eye. Ty was lying on top of him, his expression eager. He did not seem one bit tired. Kit could even feel Ty’s hardness against his stomach.
“What is it, Ty?” Kit mumbled in a sleepy daze. “In case you were wondering, that was me sleeping.”
“Let’s do it again,” said Ty, sounding excited.
“What time is it?” Kit groaned, rubbing his eye.
“3:17 AM,” Ty answered, as if he had said 8 PM and was wondering what all the fuss was about.
Kit sighed. Blackthorns. He should have known. Why on earth did he have to fall in love with a Blackthorn?
*****
Tagging @darkkitai 
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livvyheronstairs · 9 days ago
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Wow, it has been a long time since I’ve written something on here! It feels nice to be back (kind of) 😅
Now this is dedicated to my darling @illyrian-shadows ! I feel like appreciating you and I remembered you mentioning that you really like Mark Blackthorn so I wrote this 💕😘 I hope you like it
Forever
Mark Blackthorn x Female Reader
Los Angeles, 2007
A GIGGLE ESCAPED your lips when your boyfriend kissed you again.
“Don’t you have to watch your siblings?” You hummed against his lips, your arms slung over his shoulders.
“Hmm, they’ll be fine,” Mark shrugged, kissing you again.
You eagerly kissed back. It had been so long since you and Mark got some alone time. Just you and him. Nothing else in the world matter. All sound disappeared and you could feel nothing except the burning sensation of his hands against your bare skin.
But you knew that it had to come to an end. Which is why you pulled away and looked into his Blackthorn blue eyes. They looked like the crashing ocean outside. “Mark, we have to go.”
“I don’t want you to go,” he nuzzled his face in your neck making you giggle.
“We’ll see each other in a couple days,” you assured. “In Idris.”
The blond let out a defeated sigh and raised his head to look at you. “Promise?”
“Promise,” you smiled at him. You reached up on the tip of your toes to press a last kiss to his lips before completely breaking from his hold. You walked backwards towards the front door of the Institute, your eyes trained on Mark’s still frame as he watched you with a loving smile. “I love you,” you called, beaming brightly.
“I love you,” Mark called back, his hair looking like threads of gold under the glow of the LA sun. “Forever.”
“Forever.”
Los Angeles, 2012
“JULES?” YOU CALLED upon entering the LA Institute. It had been five years since the Dark War, since your family died and since you last saw Mark. A pang went through you as you thought of him.
After the War, when the Clave deemed that Mark was to stay with the Hunt and that Helen was to be exiled to Wrangel Island, they also decreed that due to the nature of your relationship with Mark, you weren’t allowed to return to the LA Institute as a resident. You had the right to visit Emma and the Blackthorns (“We aren’t monsters,” the Clave had said) but you were to be set up in a different Institute. So you were shipped of the Chicago.
You returned to LA once every two months to check on the Blackthorns and ask Julian if the Clave had maybe listened to his letters and had a change of heart. It let you spend sometime with the Blackthorns who you saw as your own family.
“Livvy? Ty? Dru?” You kept calling when no one answered. With furrowed eyebrows, you mumbled, “Where the hell are they?”
That was when a person suddenly collided with your legs. You stumbled slightly in panic before letting out a sigh at seeing little Octavian Blackthorn grinning up at you widely as he hugged your legs. “Y/N! You’re here!”
You smiled affectionately at the seven-year-old, scooping him up into your arms and giving him an eskimo kiss that made him giggle and grip onto you like a koala. “Hi, my baby. Where are the others?”
“We’re all in the kitchen.”
“Tavvy!” A voice called from around the corner. “Where are you?”
That’s when Dru Blackthorn showed up. She was in one of her ‘Saw’ graphic t-shirts and her green-blue eyes widened happily. “Y/N! By the Angel, you came!” She ran forward, throwing herself into your arms where Tavvy wasn’t gripping onto you.
“Of course, I came,” you pressed a kiss into her plaited hair. “I’d never miss a chance to see you guys.”
Dru grinned widely as she pulled away and took your hand. You two began walking towards the kitchen, Tavvy still in your arms as the young girl began explaining why psychological horror movies were so much better than slashers. While you didn’t personally care (a horror movie is a horror movie) you diligently listened because you knew how much it meant to Dru.
You always did your best to make sure the Blackthorns felt appreciated by you and knew how much you loved and missed them. You would do anything to be able to come here and help out, of taking the responsibility of raising his siblings from Julian’s shoulders and let him be a kid for a little while. You would love to take over the Institute so that Arthur could rest and focus on his study.
But the Clave forbade it. Just because you fell in love with someone they deemed untrustworthy.
You never moved on from Mark. You didn’t want to. Mark Blackthorn was the one for you. You knew it. It didn’t matter if the Clave decided that they would never lift the ban on him. Your love for the blond Blackthorn was eternal, worthy of a Herondale. You would never give up hope of seeing him again one day, of holding him again. It wouldn’t matter if years had passed and you were in your seventies and he was still the same seventeen year old who left. You would still love him. It wouldn’t matter if he no longer loved you. Because you could love him and yourself enough for the both of you.
You loved Mark Anthony Blackthorn. Forever.
Tavvy started getting fidgety in your arms which prompted you to let him go and put him on the ground. With that he broke into a run, calling out his other siblings as he made for the kitchen. You and Dru kept walking, the girl -despite being 13- tightly holding your hand as though she was scared you’d disappear if she didn’t.
Footsteps pulled you from your conversation. Followed by the screams of Emma Carstairs and Livvy Blackthorn.
“I’m going to hug her first!” Emma exclaimed.
Livvy only protested. “No, I am!”
This kept going until they turned the corner and stopped seeing you. A squeal tore both their throats as both the blonde and brunette launched themselves at you at the same time. You laughed kindly and opened you arms welcoming the hug from the two young women in front of you.
“Y/N!” They exclaimed.
“Hi, girls,” you laughed.
Dru huffed as she stood on the side, evidently annoyed that her time with you had been interrupted. You shot her a smile over the girls’ shoulders that made her smile. Emma and Livvy both pulled away with giant smiles painted on their faces.
More footsteps echoed and Julian and Ty Blackthorn made an appearance. Julian pulled you into a hug that you gladly returned and Ty smiled waving happily. You winked at him over Julian’s shoulder.
You didn’t hug Ty. It was hard for you to hug him because he reminded you so much of Mark. They looked nothing alike but you remembered how protective he was of his little brother. Because Ty didn’t interact with society like everyone else did, because growing up would be harder for him than it was for the rest of you.
You worried that if you hugged Ty once, you would never let him go and that would only make the boy uncomfortable and that’s the last thing you wanted.
“We weren’t expecting you for a couple more weeks,” Julian smiled as he pulled away.
You shrugged, messing up his already messy hair. “Hugh let me leave earlier.” Hugh being the Head of the Chicago Institute and a friend of yours.
That is when another set of footsteps came down the hall. And as soon as the person turned the corner, your heart stopped beating.
Mark Blackthorn stood there. Tall and lean in jeans and a grey t-shirt. His blond hair fell around his pointed ears. Mark. Your Mark was there.
And he looked exactly the same as he had the day you last saw him. Standing in an Institute hall, sun shining through the window and making him glow like an angel. Your Mark was here and he was exactly the same as five years ago.
Except for the eyes.
Where there had previously been two sets of ocean waves crashing against the shore on a summer evening, blue and green mingling together in perfect harmony, was one set of waves and a shining gold eye.
“Mark?” You managed to say, shock choking your throat. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. You had to be dreaming.
His face changed from the confused look he had been wearing to something else. It was almost something broken and unbelieving. “Y/N?”
A sob left you, one of your hands coming to rest on your mouth as if to muffle the sound. His voice. How you’d missed it. The gentle and soothing voice that would sing you to sleep on bad nights, the one that told you you looked beautiful and that proclaimed love to you.
Mark let out a watery chuckle as he smiled. He took a small step forward, hesitant. You glanced at Julian, as if to make sure this was real and the boy nodded. You looked back at Mark. At the love of your life.
You also took a step towards him. And the next thing you knew, you were both running into each other’s arms. He gripped you tightly around the waist as your arms instantly wound up around his shoulders.
Mark. Your Mark. He was right here.
“Mark,” you breathed.
“Y/N,” he nuzzled his face in your neck. “My Y/N. Oh, my darling how I’ve missed you.”
“Not as much as I’ve missed you.” You pulled away, just enough to see his face. Your hand gently came and traced his cheekbone. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”
He smiled, wiping a tear that had escaped your eye. “I’m here.”
Mark hesitantly glanced down at your lips and back at your eyes. He seemed unsure if he still had the right to kiss you. If you were still his to hold and still his to kiss.
You smiled and leaned up, pressing your lips to his. A small kiss that told him everything. Everything from your love for him to how you were his to hold and to love. Forever.
@will-effing-herondale @fair-but-wilde-child @wraith-of-rroses @rinadragomir @cordaisya @shadowhuntertrash @spotsandclawsthings @imherongraystairstrash @tessasclockworkangel @delilahssbard @matthewfairchilds-lil-bitch @merry-thieves @darklingswhxore @itsdaughterofthemoon @youngreckless @runecarstairs @panicatwallmaria @illyrian-shadows @axoloteca @apple-bottom-jeansx @fair-childd @cocastyle @iespeciallyme @magnus-the-maqnificent (Send me a DM if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list)
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To never being parted - Part 2 Chap 3 - First and last kiss
This is the Chapter 3 of the mini sequel to my flower cards inspired Kitty Fan Fic “Am I Forgotten?”
AO3 Link here.
****
“You are definitely rocking this dress,” said Livvy. She was seated on Kit’s desk, her long legs dangling from the edge, her Blackthorn blue-green eyes glittering as she watched him. She looked like she was trying very hard not to burst out laughing.
Kit sighed. Tessa had showed up in New York with a dress specially made for him. A very girly, lacy dress. A magically sparkling dress, courtesy of Magnus Bane.
“I am just trying it on for your sake. I won’t be caught dead in it.”
Livvy raised an eyebrow at him.
“You’re not going to chicken out, are you? I thought Herondales never resisted a challenge.”
Damn she was good.
“I’d rather pop out of the cake butt naked.”
“I am sure you would. But again, Herondales are not really bothered by nudity so there is no real challenge in that.”
Kit sighed again. When he had told Jem he wanted to pop out of a giant cake in a dress to surprise Jace for his birthday, it had been a joke. Well, the joke was on him now. Jem had told Clary, who had been really excited about the idea and had ordered a giant cake just for him, with vanilla buttercream frost and pink bows. Emma was the one who had found the dress, at a shop in Los Angeles called Hidden Treasures and Tessa had travelled through a Portal to get it in time for the party. She had used her sewing skills to make it fit Kit's bulky silhouette. He ought to give her props for that.
He was not really bothered by the show, he was just wondering what his boyfriend would think, seeing him in a dress. Boyfriend. Such a common word to describe what Ty was to him. Still, he couldn’t help but feel gooey at the sound of that.
As if she had read his mind, Livvy asked, “So you and Ty are… a thing now? For guys who fancy themselves detectives, you certainly took your time to solve that mystery.”
“Yep, I still need time to wrap my head around the idea.”
“You do realize that you are the one who gave me my first… and last kiss. And now, you gave Ty his first kiss… and will probably be the one to give him his last as well.” She gazed at him intently, daring him to contradict her.
Kit’s lips parted in shock. “I… I gave Ty his first kiss?”
“You didn’t know?”
Kit swallowed. He had avoided thinking about it too much, but he had imagined that Ty had had a few experiences at the Scholomance. Hell, he had given him head in the Institute’s library like he was an expert who had done it a hundred times. Kit suddenly felt a bit queasy. They hadn’t had sex yet, but they certainly hadn’t taken it slow.
As he heard footsteps in the corridor, Kit hurriedly took the dress off. He’d rather be standing in his boxer shorts, after all - as Livvy had pointed out - nudity didn’t bother him that much.
The door opened to reveal… Ty.
When he saw Kit and Livvy together, his whole face lit up.
Livvy gave him a broad smile and winked, as if they were sharing a secret.
“Oh here you are, Ty. Kit wanted to show you his dress. He’s a bit worried you won’t like it, but I told him it looked perfect on him. You can help him in, and judge for yourself.”
Kit turned to glance at Ty, who was closing the door, his back to him, then back at Livvy.
“Thank you,” Kit mouthed sarcastically, as he flipped her the bird.
Livvy stuck out her tongue at him.
Over the past years, Livvy had visited Kit regularly, and they had gotten used to teasing each other. Admittedly, Livvy had managed to prank Kit way more often than he had succeeded himself, being a ghost and all. But who was counting?
Ty shrugged. “I don’t care what you wear. I know what’s underneath.”
Kit felt his cheeks flush furiously. He certainly did. Every inch of it.
“I am going to leave you guys some privacy.” Livvy said, looking conspiratorially at Ty. She blew him a kiss and disappeared.
Ty moved to stand before Kit and absently brushed a lock of Kit’s hair out of his face. He started tracing one of his fingers along Kit’s collarbone.
“I have been thinking about what you told me yesterday. About me leaving you with nothing all these years.”
“Ty- You don’t have to…”
“There is only one Blackthorn ring, for now, and Emma is wearing it at least until the wedding. But I do have this.” Ty reached behind his neck to untie the chain bearing Livvy’s locket.
Kit’s breath hitched.
“Ty! No Ty- I can’t accept this. This is Livvy’s…”
“It’s Livvy’s idea as much as it is mine. She is part of me, and you are part of us.”
Ty moved to stand behind Kit and started fastening the necklace around his neck. Kit was frozen in shock. Although Livvy’s locket was cold against his sternum, he felt as though heat were surging from it and shooting through his entire body.
“Now, Kit Rook, how does it feel to end up belonging to three Shadowhunter families, the Herondales, the Carstairs and the Blackthorns?”
Kit chuckled, but didn’t say anything. He was still too much in a daze to speak.
****
Tagging @darkkitai ;)
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youngreckless · 13 days ago
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enemies to lovers or friends to lovers // coffee shop au or flower shop au // hurt/comfort or there was only one bed // found family or partners in crime // canon compliant or canon divergent // domesticity or pwp // fluff or angst with a happy ending // misunderstandings or major character death // 1st person pov or 3rd person pov // soulmates or forbidden love // roommates or fake dating // slow burn or meet-cute // love triangle or polyamorous relationship // secret relationship or unrequited love // royalty au or magic au // high school/college au or neighbours au // mutual pining or idiots to lovers
tagging mutuals <3 @runecarstairs @my-archerboy @tamaraheartz @wraith-of-rroses @magnus-the-maqnificent @beclynn-herondale @itsdaughterofthemoon @khaleesiofalicante @darklingswhxore @imherongraystairstrash @lucian-evander @shadowhuntertrash @textrovert-01 @greenbriarxrose @reyna-herondale @wannabe-warlock @icycoolslushie @clockworkprincess19 @dark-artifices-only @adoravel-fenomeno @thewolfnephilim @pink-party-dino @chibi-tsukiko @untowardflower @clockworknights @radisv @high-warlock-of-brooklyn @herondalesunsetcurve @revati3008 @ashley-luv @immortal-enemies @iespeciallyme
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KitTy Flower Cards Fan Fic - I have loved you & you haven’t known it (last Chapter)
KitTy fan fic based on Kit and Ty’s flower cards (art by Cassandra Jean), to celebrate the release of Ty’s latest flower card. I alternate between Kit and Ty’s POV.
If you prefer reading it on AO3 or if you have missed the previous chapters, Link is here. AO3 Link - Am I forgotten?
Following Chapter is the last: Chapter 9 - I have loved you & you haven’t known it.
****
Kit was staring, frozen in shock, as Ty crumpled to the floor and curled up against the wall, his hands covering his head, his forehead resting against his knees. His knuckle was bloody and red streams were running down his hand, his forearm. He didn’t seem aware of it. He started rocking back and forth.
‘Ty… let me see your hand,” Kit said gently. All the anger had left his body.
Ty must not have heard – or cared – because he replied, in a muffled voice. “Why won’t you let me… be there for you? What- What else can I do to… to be there for you?”
Kit took a sharp intake of breath as realization dawned on him.
“It wasn’t Anush, was it? He was only helping you. You were calling the shots. I know it now. All the intelligence we received from the Scholomance over these past two years… All the missions you picked… everything, all of it. It was all about… me ? You did all of this for me ?”
Ty didn’t answer. He was caught up in his own world, rocking restlessly. His hands were now fluttering above his head like butterflies, sending specks of blood everywhere.
“Why, Ty? Why? You haven’t tried to contact me once. You never wrote me a single letter. Hell, I was one phone call away. But nothing. You left me with nothing, all these years. I thought you had forgotten me completely. Every night I lay in my bed and asked myself. Am I forgotten ?”
“I thought YOU KNEW!” Ty cried. He lifted his gaze then, and Kit saw that silver tears were streaming down his cheeks.
“I thought you knew,” Ty whispered again, in a softer voice. He wiped his tears with shaking fingers, leaving smears of blood on his cheeks.
Kit was desperate. He couldn’t stand there and do nothing while Ty was having a breakdown. Worst of all knowing he was having a breakdown because of him.
He wanted to hold Ty, the way he had done on the London Institute’s roof. The way he had done in the nightclub. To hold him tight and never let go. But would Ty welcome his touch? Or would he push him away?
“Knew what, Ty? Knew WHAT?”
“I thought you knew… that all these years… I loved you. But it seems as though…” It was as if the dam gates had been opened, and water kept pouring out of his eyes. “It seems as though…”  His shoulders were shaking now, with deep shuddering sobs. “I have loved you and you haven’t known it.”
For a moment, Kit just stood there, stunned.
The sight of Ty’s crumpled figure, the sight of his wet cheeks, the sight of his bloodied hand, acted like an electric shock, bringing Kit back to his senses. He fell on his knees, before Ty. He put his arms around him and held on tight, using all his strength. He knew he was using too much strength. Much more than anyone would use in any affectionate embrace. But he also knew that this was exactly what Ty needed.
“You… love me?” He whispered in Ty’s hair.
Ty let out a deep sigh and relaxed against him, laying his forehead on Kit’s shoulder. “How could you not know?” Ty’s voice was barely a whisper, Kit was not sure if he had heard or imagined it.
“Ty,” he said. “All these years… I loved you, too. This is the reason I left. I loved you then, and I love you now. I have never stopped.”
Ty whimpered. “I thought… you hated me,” he whispered. Kit’s shirt was already drenched in salted water.
“Ty, I could never hate you… Let me see your hand now.”
****
Kit took Ty’s hand with gentle fingers, as if he were holding the most fragile and precious thing in the world and started drawing an Iratze with his stele. “Do you remember?” he said. “You were the first one to give me a healing Rune. It was my first Rune.”
“Of course, I remember.”
Ty lifted his free hand and traced the Voyance Rune on the back of Kit’s right hand, with a feathery touch of his long, calloused fingers. Kit shuddered.
“When I thought I could never have you, I held on to the fact that wherever you would go, whatever you would do, there would always be something to remind you of me… And even if you never spoke to me again, even if you had forgotten me completely, I was selfish enough to think that at least I would have been the first one to… mark you in some way. To mark you as mine.”
“Ty…” Kit said. “Look at what you did for me all these years. You are one of the most selfless people I know.”
Kit released Ty’s hand to bring his own hands on either side of Ty’s face, cupping his wet cheeks, drying away tears and blood with a gentle stroke of his thumbs.
“And I am yours. I always have been.” Kit sighed. “From the first moment I lay eyes on you. You had me completely. And God knows there is nothing I could do – nothing anyone could do, not even you – to change that. But why didn’t you tell me, Ty? All these years I thought you didn’t care…”
“I wrote you a letter a few weeks ago.”
“I didn’t receive anything.”
“Because I never got to send it. I was so angry when I wrote it. It’s probably better this way.”
“Can I- Can I read it someday?”
“You can read it now,” Ty said. He reached for a pocket in his jacket and winced. Kit wanted to offer help but Ty had already retrieved a folded piece of paper. It was stained and wrinkled as if it had been folded and unfolded several times.
He handed the letter to Kit, who opened it with shaking fingers.
Dear Kit,
I am not good with words, but trust that I am at telling the truth.
I have no excuse for acting as I did three years ago, but I beg you to consider my youth.
I dream every night of words you said, wishing you had not taken them back,
When you told me you wished you had not known me, I swear I felt my heart crack.
You think I only care about myself, but how could this ever be true,
When my every thought, my every breath and my whispered words are only for you.
When an idea comes to my mind, it feels empty if not sparked by you.
When a mystery is finally solved, victory is bitter if not shared with you.
When I witness something funny, my laughter dies like a flame without air to nurture it too.
When my eyes behold something beautiful, its shine is lost if I cannot show it to you.
How can you accuse me of being selfish when you disappear all of a sudden without a clue,
Leaving me to figure out on my own the words I Love You.
When you tore yourself away from me, my chest felt as if it had been cut through,
Leaving me only with my reflection to speak the words of my heart to.
Ty
Kit could barely see through the tears that were now freely rolling from his eyes, so he closed them and bent to press his forehead against Ty, whispering over and over three simple words that would heal both their hearts. I love you. I love you. I love you.
****
Tagging @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @unorganisedbookshelf @blindbandit1515 @whyhastgodfarsakenme @noah-herondale-lightwood @georgiaherondale @nicotheangel17 @joonjxne @that-dreamer-girl-m @mariiaarranz @writeforjordelia @shadowfae1878 @majollica-blog @mferraz @darkkitai @justanothermultifandomgirl @kitty-appreciation-week @gabtapia
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KitTy Flower Cards Fan Fic - House of cards (Chapter 8)
KitTy fan fic based on Kit and Ty’s flower cards (art by Cassandra Jean), to celebrate the release of Ty’s latest flower card. I alternate between Kit and Ty’s POV.
If you prefer reading it on AO3 or if you have missed the previous chapters, Link is here. AO3 Link - Am I forgotten?
Following Chapter is Chapter 8 - House of cards.
****
They landed gracefully on the New York Institute’s roof.
Although there was a chill in the air and their bodies were drenched in sweat, Kit did not feel cold. Fire was still burning in his veins, the remnant of his transformation.
He was standing with his arms around Ty, both of them breathing heavily as they recovered from the fight and the flight.
Ty was taller than him and as Kit lifted his head to check Ty’s face for injuries, he realized with a jolt that their lips were so close they were almost touching. If he moved just a little closer… If he dared to cross the small space between them… He would be able to feel Ty’s lips against his, to discover if they were as soft as they looked...
Ty’s hands went up Kit’s chest… and pushed him away with such force that Kit almost fell backwards.
Kit swiftly recovered from the shove but was still in shock as he looked at Ty’s face and noticed for the first time - as he had been focused until then on Ty’s lips - that his expression was… furious.
****
Now that they were finally alone, far from the noise and far from the crowd, emotions that Ty had kept buried deep inside came crashing down, unbound and untamed.
Of course, there was relief. Relief to see that Kit was unharmed and that he had somehow managed to find his wings. Through all the research he had made, Ty had guessed about this power but without absolute certainty.
Relief that he had managed to fight without his headphones on, amidst the chaos and cacophony generated by the swarm of Faerie warriors surrounding him, because Kit was there, a short distance away, and he needed him. Ty could not let him down, could not betray him with his own limitations. Somehow, at least for the short period of time that was necessary, Ty had managed to find the strength to clear his head and to focus on Kit’s survival.
Guilt, as well. Guilt for bringing Kit straight into his enemies' lair, although he had not planned to. Guilt for having missed this turn of events, for letting his mind be clouded by the thrill of gathering more information, of solving a new mystery.
Above all, fear. Fear of losing Kit, of failing him when he had dedicated three years of his life to protect him.
But mostly fear of losing the opportunity to unburden himself of the weight that had been a constant ache in his heart. Ty had never been afraid of dying. He was, however, terrified of dying without having the chance to speak three simple words to Kit.
They were screaming for release now, obstructing his lungs, choking him.
Kit already knew about Ty’s feelings. Ty was certain of it. After all, how could he not? With the only exception of Livvy, Ty had never been closer to anyone else, had never trusted anyone else so completely with his deepest secrets and darkest plans, including the one to raise Livvy from the dead. He had never let anyone touch him like Kit did.
But Kit’s knowledge of his feelings was not enough, Ty needed to voice them, to unload them on Kit, so that Kit could share the burden with him. Only then, would he be able to breathe easily again.
And that’s why, despite himself, Ty felt anger boiling inside him. If you had given me the chance to tell you these words before you left, I would not have been carrying them around like a weight in my chest all these years.
“Ty- Ty, what’s the matter?” Kit said gently. As if Ty had not pushed him away with all the strength he could muster. He could see that there was hurt in Kit’s eyes, but mainly worry.
Kit’s blue eyes. Ty turned away from them, not trusting himself to utter a single word, and started walking towards the exit door, desperate to leave the roof. He needed distance from Kit and the emotions the mere sight of him triggered.
“SO WHAT? You don’t have anything to say to me?” Kit suddenly cried, startling Ty.
Ty froze, hunching his shoulders and clutching at his heron-shaped pendant.
“How about thank you for getting us the hell out of there ?” Kit continued.
It was the only push Ty’s defense walls needed to come tumbling down. Ty whirled to face Kit.
“Why did you come, Kit? WHY? You would have died Kit, you would have died if you had not found your wings! Why do you have to make it so hard to keep you safe!”
Kit no longer looked concerned, anger seemed to have wiped away all other conflicting emotions.
“Look at me, Ty. LOOK AT ME!” Kit said, opening his arms and extending his wings to their full length.
Kit had never looked more beautiful and more surreal than he was now, an angel in all his glory, blond curls plastered to his face and fiery blue eyes burning everything in their path, including Ty’s chest.
Still, Ty didn’t understand why Kit was asking him to look at him, when he was already looking at him. He was already all Ty could see. That’s one of the reasons I know I love you, Kit.
In two strides Kit had Ty pinned against the wall, his hands grasping Ty’s shoulders.
“DO YOU THINK I NEED PROTECTION?” Kit spat.
His body was pressed against Ty’s, sending an electric jolt wherever they touched. Ty couldn’t think properly, couldn’t process what was happening to him. He couldn’t prevent the acceleration of his heartbeat or cool down the blood boiling in his veins, burning away his defenses like wildfire.
Ty pushed Kit away. Hard.
“LET GO OF ME!” he said.
Kit stumbled but recovered, his burning eyes widening in shock. His wings slowly folded until they disappeared in his back. He was breathing hard, his muscles taut with the effort of holding still.
Ty wanted to give himself over to Kit’s arms, like he had in the nightclub, but he was too focused on fighting each of his conflicting impulses. Anger finally won the battle of emotions raging inside him.
“YOU REALLY THINK YOU DON’T NEED TO BE PROTECTED?” Ty cried. “You really think all this time you have been living a peaceful life in Devon, the outside world was oblivious to you? You have no idea, Kit. You have no idea. It has been coming from everywhere! Everywhere !”
Ty whirled and punched his fist against the wall with such force that he felt – and heard – his bones crush, pain shooting up his arm.
****
Tagging @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @unorganisedbookshelf @blindbandit1515 @whyhastgodfarsakenme @noah-herondale-lightwood @georgiaherondale @nicotheangel17 @joonjxne @that-dreamer-girl-m @mariiaarranz @writeforjordelia @shadowfae1878 @majollica-blog @mferraz @darkkitai @justanothermultifandomgirl @kitty-appreciation-week @gabtapia
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Am I forgotten ? (KitTy Fan Fic)
KitTy fan fic based on Kit and Ty’s flower cards (art by Cassandra Jean), to celebrate both the release of Ty’s latest flower card and Kitty’s appreciation week!
If you prefer reading it on AO3 or if you have missed the previous chapters, Link is here. AO3 Link - Am I forgotten?
Following Chapter is Chapter 6 - Lex malla, lex nulla
Kit and Ty did not make it far, as three Faeries suddenly appeared before them, blocking their path. As it was the case for Ty, to stay they stood out of the crowd was an understatement. The one standing in the middle was the tallest and the most elegantly clad. Dark velvet clothes with fine embroidery hugged the shapes of his lean body, the symbol of a broken crown visible on his silk shirt. He had long silvery blond hair framing his narrow face and tucked behind his pointy ears, and his deep blue eyes seemed to hold centuries of life in this world. He would have been stunning if not for the permanent scowl on his face. The other two, flanking him, had long dark hair and looked so alike they might have been twins. It was clear from their stance that they were Faerie knights.
Ty turned to Kit and whispered urgently. “That’s him. I need to interrogate him. Preferably without his two bodyguards.”
“Well met,” Kit said in his most cheerful voice.
“Well met,” the blond Faerie replied. “It seems as though you have lost your way.”
“Wrong,” Kit said. “I was lost, but I have been found.”
Ty shot him a disapproving look. The Faerie lifted a silvery eyebrow.
Kit dropped Ty’s hand to move his arm behind his back, slowly tracing his fingers along Ty’s side down to his hip until they finally rested on Ty’s… buttocks. He gently squeezed for added effect. God, how perfect. Ty startled, his eyes widening and his lips parting in shock, but made no further move. He was staring straight ahead, as if he could not bear to meet Kit’s eyes. A deep red had started to spread across his cheeks towards his temples.
The Faerie’s eyes had not missed the gesture and the scowl vanished from his face from one moment to another.
“Let me guess,” he said, his gaze moving between Kit and Ty. A genuine smile spread across his face. “You two are only here to have a good time.”
“Wrong again. We were here to have a good time, but my boyfriend is not feeling well. This place is too noisy, too… crowded. We are leaving.”
“Are you now?” The Faerie said, lifting both his eyebrows. His eyes, glittering with interest, were now roaming over Kit’s body. “The night is still young, and so are you. May I offer you some refreshments in a more private venue?”
Kit plastered a hesitant look on his face. “We are far from home. It would be nice if we could get our bearings before we leave.” The Faerie’s smile grew wider and, without a word, he whirled and started to move gracefully towards the back of the club, flanked by his two bodyguards. Kit and Ty followed.
“So, who is this guy?” Kit whispered in Ty’s ear, after - regretfully - dropping his arm from his back.
“A Faerie Prince. One of King Kieran’s many brothers. He was very close to the late King Arawn once.”
“Wow, wait a minute- a Prince ? How many laws are we planning to break tonight?”
“Twenty-seven,” Ty replied without blinking.
Kit whistled.  
Ty turned to him, his eyes glittering, and the corner of his mouth lifted mischievously. “Lex malla, lex nulla,” he said in a deep, low voice. Kit couldn’t help but stare at Ty, at the way his soft lips shaped the words, gently pressing around the “M”, at the way his tongue rolled in his mouth at the “Ls”.
He had always thought Ty was beautiful, but right now the word that popped in his mind was HOT. So freaking HOT.
Tiberius Nero Blackthorn, you naughty boy.
“What about your vows as a Centurion?” Kit asked when he had regained his composure.
“A good Centurion once told me that vows of friendship… and love are stronger.”
Did Kit imagine the way Ty put an emphasis on the word love ?
****
They were seated in a very large high-ceilinged room, with no windows save for a glass roof through which one could see New York’s night sky.
A vampire waitress came in carrying flutes of champagne and presented them to Kit and Ty. They both declined.
“I am fine,” said the Faerie Prince, when she offered him a drink. He didn’t even bother to look up at her. His gaze was fixed on Kit and Ty, and a small smile was playing across his face, as if he were enjoying a private joke. “I am already drunk with the sexual tension between these two.”
Kit couldn’t help but look over at Ty, and their eyes met for a second before they both swiftly glanced away.
“The two of you haven’t done the deed yet, have you?” The Faerie Prince’s eyes were now sparkling with excitement. “When you do..." He opened both his hands and spread his long fingers wide, mimicking an explosion... or was it fireworks? "I am willing to pay a fortune to witness that. Name your price.”
Kit glanced at the bodyguards. They were looking at Kit and Ty with a stern expression on their faces, as if it hadn’t all been a show. It had been a joke, right? But… Faeries didn’t lie.
Kit stood. “Can we have a moment alone together? Just you and me.” He looked pointedly at the bodyguards. “I would prefer to discuss... the terms, privately.”
As if they had received a signal, the two knights started to move to stand before the Prince, who lifted his hand in a halting gesture as he paused to consider. They both froze.
Kit seized the opportunity. With slow, deliberate movements, he started to take his jacket off. He threw it on the nearest armchair. “You will see that I am unarmed.” He took his shirt off next, the muscles of his arms flexing as he lifted it leisurely over his head. When he was half naked, he spread his arms wide. “You can ask your knights to check the rest if you don’t believe me. I have nothing to hide.”
They did. As their hands moved over Kit’s body in search of weapons, Ty tensed. He was watching their every move, his fiery gaze fixed on their hands, as if he could burn a hole through them.
“Leave us,” said the Faerie Prince when they were done.
Ty rose from his armchair and moved to stand before Kit, his back to the Faerie Prince.
“Kit- I don't like this plan,” he said in a hushed, urgent voice. Kit noticed with a pang that he had started stroking his pendant again.
“Ty- Please, trust me. I know what I’m doing,” Kit replied.
Ty held Kit’s gaze for a moment, searching his eyes. Kit tried very hard to convey a message of confidence he wasn’t sure he really had.
Ty finally gave him a curt, stiff nodd. As he moved past Kit, the back of their hands brushed, sending an electric current through Kit’s entire body.
Kit didn’t trust himself not to go running to Ty, so he stared straight ahead until he heard the door close behind him.
When they were alone, the Faerie Prince rose from his chair. “Finally."
In two strides of his long legs, he had joined Kit and stood before him, so close Kit could feel his breath over his skin. He smelled of cloves. The Prince lifted his hands to place them on each of Kit’s biceps.
“You love him,” he said without preamble.
Kit swallowed hard. “Is it that obvious?”
“The question you are asking yourself is, does he love you?”
“I know he doesn’t.” Kit tried to hide the despair in his voice but failed miserably.
The Faerie Prince lifted his silver eyebrows. “You know? Are you so powerful as to be able to read one’s heart?”
“He said as much. Or at least, that's what his words suggested. I don’t want to talk about it.” Kit had no intention to share his deepest feelings with a mere stranger. A Faerie Prince at that. There’s nothing if you aren’t there. Words meant for Livvy alone and no one else, especially not Kit. After all these years, they still stung as if they were new. A raw pain for an old wound.
“You make an interesting couple, the two of you,” said the Faerie after a moment. “The Shadowhunter who looks like a Faerie and... the Faerie who looks like a Shadowhunter.”
Kit gasped audibly. The Prince’s hands were now moving in circles over Kit’s bare chest, smooth fingers caressing his skin.
“You thought I would not be able to recognize my own kin? My own blood? I see him in you, you know… My father.”
Kit was unable to move, staring in shock as the Faerie’s long fingers started tracing the shapes of his abs. Distantly, he thought he heard the door open and close. The sound was so muted he wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.
“Tell me, Christopher Herondale, who are you loyal to? Your royal blood family? Or your adoptive family?”
Tessa. Jem. Mina. Kit came to his senses and clenched his fists. He knew he didn’t need weapons to fight. The Prince would never know what had hit him. Kit would avoid knocking him out, of course, as Ty needed to interrogate him.
“I tend to stick with those trying to protect me instead of those trying to kill me. That’s how boring I am.”
As it turned out, Kit didn’t even have to lift a finger.
It all happened in a blur. The Faerie Prince’s hands which had moved over Kit's biceps suddenly froze, and his lips parted in shock. Ty had appeared behind him, as swift as a shadow, and was grasping a knife whose silvery blade was pressed against his throat. Ty’s hands were covered in blood… Probably from the two knights.
“I would have a few questions to ask you,” Ty said. His tone was as cold as ice. “But first... take your hands off my boyfriend, before I separate them from your body.”
*****
Tagging @arangiajoan @nenyx @naerysthelonesome @adoravel-fenomeno @unorganisedbookshelf @blindbandit1515 @whyhastgodfarsakenme @noah-herondale-lightwood @georgiaherondale @nicotheangel17 @joonjxne @that-dreamer-girl-m @mariiaarranz @writeforjordelia @shadowfae1878 @majollica-blog @mferraz @darkkitai @justanothermultifandomgirl @kitty-appreciation-week @gabtapia 
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imherongraystairstrash · 18 days ago
Heyy could you please write smth amazing maybe a fic about Charlotte and Henry,i love them so much🥺😍and maybe smth about Matthew and charlotte too♥️♥️😍🥺
Of course! Thank you so much for the amazing request! I missed writing about the Fairchilds :)
Forgiveness
Characters: Charlotte Fairchild, Henry Fairchild & Matthew Fairchild
...
Charlotte opened her eyes and jumped to her feet, speeding to the bathroom, where she promptly heaved into the toilet.
“Lottie?” Henry asked from the bedroom, concerned. “Are you alright?”
She heard him shift to get up.
“No, don’t get up.” She said, “It’s—I’m fine, really. I feel better.”
“You don’t sound better,” Henry said.
“Yes, well,” Charlotte said, getting to her feet. “I did just spew what felt like my entire stomach.”
“Lottie, are you sure you’re alright? I can easily—”
“Truly, Henry, I’m fine. I feel much better now.” She quickly added after gurgling and spitting out some water to get the fowl taste out of her mouth.
She re-emerged from the bathroom to find Henry sitting up, his face etched with concern, “Besides,” she pointed out. “Your bath chair is all the way over there.”
“Yes, I only realized that while I was insisting on getting up.”
Charlotte felt a soft giggle make it’s way up her throat. She crawled into bed beside him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. When they were both sitting—as they were now—it was quite evident that Henry is much taller than Charlotte. She closed her eyes and listened to his heart beat as he folded her in his arms, which were warm and strong, from pushing his bath chair around all day.
He preferred to do it himself, he’d confided to her one night. When other people pushed it without asking him was when he truly felt paralyzed, not being able to control where he was going.
Charlotte dug her face into his chest, smiling as he kissed her hairline.
“Just make sure to visit the Brothers tomorrow,” he said quietly. “in case it’s something serious.”
“You worry too much,” she mumbled, “but I’ll make sure to stop by tomorrow. Just for you.”
Even though she couldn’t see him, she suspected he smiled against her as his arms tightened around her.
She basked in the wave of calmness that went through her at being in Henry’s arms before gently peeling herself away to lay down on the bed. She propped her head on her fist as she watched Henry rearrange his legs so that he could lay down.
A dark shadow tried to creep into her mind, but she shoved it away.
Not yet, she thought to herself.
Henry lowered himself and looked into her eyes, and looked as though he knew exactly who she was thinking about.
She shook her head and laid down on the pillow. She moved closer to Henry and let him hold her close to his chest. His steady breathing made her eyes close slowly, his familiar, lovely scent warming her enough that it lulled her to sleep.
After stopping by the Silent Brothers, Charlotte didn’t remember the carriage ride back home. She didn’t think as her feet found themselves descending Henry’s laboratory, as she was suddenly at the base of the staircase, her eyes wide with shock, staring at Henry’s back as he worked.
She didn’t know how long she’d been standing there when Henry finally turned his chair around, jolting when he saw her standing there, pale and wide eyed.
“Lottie,” he said, “Have you been here this entire time?”
Charlotte shook her head, swaying on her feet.
“What is it, darling?” Henry said, wheeling towards her. He blanched, “Did something happen in the Silent City?”
“I—” she couldn’t quite find the right way to say it, so she just blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”
Henry stared at her and blinked. His lips parted, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Are you sure?”
Charlotte nodded, her hands drifting to her lower abdomen.
Lottie!” He laughed.
She felt herself choke out a laugh of her own. She was so dazed, so shocked and amazed, that she didn’t remember much of what came afterward. The next thing she remembered was sitting in Henry’s lap and kissing him, tears streaming down both of their faces, for neither could believe the miracle they were blessed with.
Miracles, Charlotte suddenly remembered.
She pulled away, “Wait,” She said, holding Henry’s face in her hands. “There’s more; they’re twins.”
“Twins?”
Charlotte nodded through her tears of joy. She couldn’t see Henry’s facial expression but she knew by the way he held her tight that he was ecstatic.
“They’re genders can’t be determined yet, they have to do a further investigation—”
“To hell with the genders,” Henry said laughing. “They’re twins!”
Charlotte laughed, shaking her head.
Henry put a hand to her abdomen and looked up at her, his smile lighting up his entire face, his green eyes crinkling. Charlotte matched it, unable to think of anything other than how blessed they both were.
Days later, Charlotte found Matthew sitting on the floor in the room where Will said he’d be. It was completely empty, save a window right across from where he was. His face was blank as he stared out of it.
She looked at him for a moment before crossing the room and slowly sitting down beside him. She had been meaning to meet with him for some time, but had always told herself it wasn’t the right time. It was only when a boy stopped by her house earlier that morning, that she decided she’d waited enough, the boy’s bravery giving her enough strength to go out and find her son as soon as he’d left. Now, neither Fairchild said anything as they looked out the window, at the snow that was delicately drifting to the ground.
Finally, Charlotte spoke, her voice hoarse. “I thought if I gave you space and time, that it would heal you.” She paused. “But it seems that all it did was tear me apart slowly each day.”
Matthew’s silence continued, but she felt that he may have shifted slightly.
“When you came back from the academy, I knew that something happened, that something changed within you, even though there seemed to be nothing to suggest that change.
“I also knew that after my miscarriage, you couldn’t seem to look me in the eye. That you slowly began crumbling apart. I know I’m not there most of the time, but I know that it’s been a while since you’ve been alright, Matthew. What I had dismissed as the woes of adolescence, was actually something much deeper and painful.” Her eyes remained fixed on the window, seeing, but not processing what she was looking at.
“It was painful to lose one child, but even more painful to lose another to despair.”
Matthew made a noise, as if to say something, but he stopped himself. After a while, Charlotte continued.
“You can’t argue that there’s nothing the matter. I find it strange that ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ has been your favorite book for so long, when so many other children usually change their favorite, as they find others that resonate with them more. To me, it indicates that you’re either stuck in the past, or you see yourself in that book, and that terrifies me, for Dorian Gray is not the kind of character you’d want a loved one to relate to.
“What hurts me the most, however, is that I can’t help you. That every time I try to get close to you, you push me away. It hurts me as your mother that you seem so intent to push away my affections. It hurts to know that I failed as your mother to understand what the matter is and to help. I know that nobody can carry your burden for you—whatever that burden may be— for your weight is for you to carry alone. It is what you came to this earth to do, and the lesson you came to learn. I know that it has to be you alone, but I can help make it less painful and difficult, if you could only let me.”
She stopped speaking then, letting the silence fill the room.
“You haven’t failed as a mother.” He finally said, quietly.
Charlotte closed her eyes, resting the back of her head on the wall and hugging her knees. “Then why does it feel that way?” She asked softly.
“Because I don’t want you to love me.” He said after a long moment of silence. “You haven’t failed as a mother; I’ve failed as a son.”
Charlotte managed to keep her tone even as she looked at him and said. “And why’s that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can,” She said, putting a hand on his leg.
Matthew looked down, pressing his lips together.
“If I tell you a secret, would you be willing to consider telling me yours?”
Matthew finally looked at her and she caught a glimpse of when he was younger, a small child with the fairest of hair and the light blue eyes, falling asleep on her collarbone as she worked well into the night.
She took his expression as a yes, and spoke. “I know you hated me when I sent you to the academy. How angry you were that I enrolled you without asking first. When I dropped you off, you wouldn’t hug me back or even look at me. Believe it or not, I had a reason for sending you away, and it wasn’t because I wanted you to make new friends.” She swallowed. “There was a rumor going around that time…about Gideon and I.
“I didn’t care about what other people said about me, but the problem was that the rumor, it was about you, too. I almost considered ending my term that year, because while I ran for Consul and accepted the implications that came with that, you didn’t choose to be my son. You didn’t choose this life, and I didn’t want whatever I did to affect your own life.
“Instead, however, I sent you to the academy, where I hoped you’d be protected and shielded from those rumors. And I truly believed that worked. Until now, when Alastair Carstairs came to apologize to me personally and told me what happened all those years ago.”
Matthew looked up, surprised at that.
“Henry is your father, Matthew. I wanted to reassure you that nothing amorous has ever occurred between myself and any other man, especially not Gideon. I see him as a brother.”
“I know that, Mother.” Matthew said quickly. “Of course you’d never do…that.”
Charlotte looked at him sadly. “I wish we never had to be in such a position where I had to tell you as such. I wish you would have asked about the rumor. I can’t imagine it being something easy to be told.”
“It should have.”
“What do you mean?”
“It shouldn’t have had such an effect on me. I should have known better.”
“About what?” Charlotte asked.
Matthew looked up as if noticing her presence, and quickly looked away, shaking his head. “Alastair apologized to you?”
Charlotte nodded slowly. “He’s a good boy,” she said. “A good boy who was dealt a bad hand in life. He has his own burden to carry as well, though he’s already on the right path. Sometimes, we add burdens on top of the ones we were meant to carry, which hinder our passage through life. Today, I saw him let go of something that was weighing him down for a very long time. I think it’s time you did the same.”
Matthew closed his eyes, exhaustion evident on him.
Then, he looked at Charlotte.
“What if you end up not wanting anything to do with me, once you realize what it is I’ve done?”
Charlotte felt like this was the eye of the hurricane; the moment where everything would come crashing down. She got déjà vu, of a time when a seventeen-year-old with dark blue eyes sat on a stool before her, took a deep breath, and said the unimaginable.
This time was no different.
“Matthew, I will love you no matter what, for you are my son and nothing will ever change that.”
Matthew took a shaky breath.
“I did a terrible thing, mama.” tears were falling from his eyes, “An unforgivable thing.”
“Tell me, Matthew.”
“I killed her.”
Charlotte felt her heart stop. “Who?”
“Your unborn daughter.”
She exhaled in relief. “Oh, Matthew, that was not your fault.”
“But it was. I slipped poison into your scone that day. It was me, Mother. I killed my own sibling. I killed them before they had a chance at life.”
Charlotte was taken aback. She felt her face pale and her world come crashing down. Matthew got one look at her face and burst into tears. He turned away to get up, but Charlotte grabbed his arm and crushed him into an embrace.
She was in such a state of shock, her movements felt as though they weren’t her own. She vaguely remembered lifting a hand to stroke her son’s fair hair. Nothing had made sense to her at that moment.
She wasn’t at all horrified by what Matthew had done, but more so that it had happened. It had happened so long ago, and he’d lived with that shadow over his head for that entire time.
She’d always assumed that Matthew had grown less attached to her because he was horrified at what had happened that day, but never did it cross her mind that it was because he’d felt he killed his sibling.
“It’s alright, darling.” She whispered, pressed her lips to his temple, her heart breaking. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“How could you say that?”
“Because everything happens for a reason.” She said softly, combing his hair with her fingers, “I’ve long accepted the fact that the child I was carrying back then was simply never meant to be born. Destiny had something else in store for our family.”
Matthew swallowed. “Does that mean you forgive me?”
“Of course I forgive you, Matthew. Though it’s not my forgiveness that you need.”
Matthew pulled away from her embrace and wiped at his eyes. “I don’t think I could ever forgive myself, Mama.”
Charlotte felt her lips turn up. It’s been a long time since he’d called her that. She knew that he was already one step closer to forgiveness, to happiness. “You will, my dear child. I know you will. I won’t let you fall.”
Matthew looked at her. “You truly aren’t horrified? It’s not a lie you are feeding me?”
“Matthew,” Charlotte said, playfully. “When, in your seventeen years of life, have you ever seen me give a little white lie?”
“Never, I suppose.” He said, his lips turning up a little, even as he hugged himself.
She put a hand to his cheek. “That’s right.”
Tentatively, he went to rest his temple on her shoulder. Charlotte pulled him in close with her arm.
“I love you,” she said, kissing his head.
“I love you too.” Matthew smiled, wrapping his shaking hands around her waist.
Later she’d tell him about the twins. Right now, however, it was about them, about building the bridge that had been burned all those years before.
...
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