#because i have a set tone of voice for Jem

[jamescarstairs]

Okay i have to say something because i’ve been thinking about it all day. To every person who sent me a link to a gifset of the Brother Zachariah’s scene I really appreciate it (since I don’t watch it anymore). I’m kind of conflicted in how I feel. If you’ve followed me for a whilst you know I’m the no.1 advocate for Zhang Yixing as Jem Carstairs (see my icon for example) and I have been ever since I got into EXO a couple of years ago but I also knew that my choice in fancast was one that was never going to come true because of the circumstances. The being said I really do love the person they’ve cast for Jem, I’m happy. The part I love the most is the details that they’ve kept from the books/emphasised (example: the white/silver streak in his hair), like how I can look at him and just tell that’s Jem, that’s my boy. But when I thought this would be enough for Shadowhunters to bring be back I was wrong, it does pull a bit of my heart strings a little because this is my favourite character and he’s right there on the screen and I would love to see that and experience it. But I can’t forgive them. I can’t forgive them and support a show that decided it wasn’t worth exploring Raphael’s aromanticism and deciding to erase it, even after CC told them about it when they approached her about giving him a romantic storyline. The erasure hurts too much to forgive them for it. So yeah that’s how I feel atm. 

[mortalfaerie]

STRANDED IN TIME (M. F.) 2/?

Matthew Fairchild x Lost Herondale! Reader

Y/N Herondale gets her just deserts when snooping in Cirenworth's attic sends her back over 100 years.

An indeterminate amount of time passed as you drifted in and out of consciousness. You recalled a silent brother standing over you, buts of hushed and worried conversation, and one occasion when you woke to Tessa sitting by your side, a cold cloth on your forehead and her mixing a tincture by your bedside.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak in your current state, but remembered vaguely that Tessa excelled in healing magic. You tried to reach out to her, but found you lost consciousness again before you could.

When you finally did wake without horrible pain, you found yourself in a narrow bed, in a cotton nightgown you'd never seen, but unmistakably in the London Institute's infirmary, the painted ceiling distinct.

What happened? Did Tessa and Jem take you here because you had been sick? Was Kit okay? Where was everyone? These questions pounded in your head as you stood from the bed, and cautiously padded to the double doors leading to the hallway. You opened the door to look out, but found Tessa and two people you didn't know - one being the man who had carried you - talking outside the door. They all looked to you, pausing, and then Tessa exclaimed, "Oh goodness, you're awake at last."

"I- what happened? Where's Kit? Why are we in London?" You asked, looking rapidly from person to person.

"You should have a seat, if you're able." said the other person - a petite woman of perhaps 40 or 50.

"What's going on?" you asked again, increasingly alarmed. "Is Kit okay? Where's my brother? I want to see him!"

"I'm sure we can help you find your brother as soon as we know who you are." The taller man assured you.

You looked again to Tessa, exasperated. "Tessa, what's going on? You know me, I- Kit and I live with you and Jem and Mina in Devonshire." Your voice started to wobble as panic set in.

"I- I'm sorry, I don't think that we've ever met before now." Tessa said, her face earnestly confused.

Tears spilled over your cheeks as you looked desperately to the other two adults.

"I'm Y/N Herondale." You choked out. "My little brother is Kit, you took us in after our dad was killed. We used to live in Los Angeles but we moved here after the Cohort - Tessa, please, you have to remember me."

At the name Herondale, all parties looked shocked and concerned. You cried earnestly now, shocked and panicked and feeling like you were living in a waking nightmare. You didn't pay much mind as they sheparded you into a chair in the infirmary, and the man called for tea from the kitchen. A blanket was draped around your shoulders, lest you go into shock, and when tea was pressed into your hands you finally ceased crying.

"Now," Tessa said softly, seated beside you and across from the others, "Why don't you tell us from the beginning what you remember, Y/N."

With a shuddering breath, you began. "My name is Y/N Herondale. My dad was Johnny Rook, and my mother was Rosemary Herondale. My mom died before I can remember, and only a bit after my brother Kit was born. We grew up with mundanes were always told we just had the true sight and to be quiet about it, until the day demons attacked my dad at our house, and Kit and I barely escaped with Jem Carstairs and -" you looked to Tessa, "You. We lived in the Los Angeles Institute for a bit, but eventually we decided to go to England with you and Jem when you offered - you said it was because we were the lost Herondale siblings, and that you owed a debt to the Herondales."

You looked to the man and woman across from you, silently imploring if you should continue. The man, who's black hair was flecked with gray and who's blue eyes mirrored your own, cleared his throat.

"Y/N, my name is William Herondale, and this is my wife, Tessa Herondale. And next to me is Charlotte Fairchild, the consul. We don't know how you happened to get here, but rest assured, you will not be turned away."

You could have cried again for relief, but you steeled yourself when the consul nodded to you. "Do you remember what happened before you were discovered outside?"

You nodded slowly. "I was at Cirenworth Hall. Tessa - my Tessa, I guess - gave me a book to read and it inspired me to look around in the attic, and I found something in a box. I - I can't remember what it was, but I remember feeling sick suddenly, and then I was lying in the grass with Jessamine over me."

"You could see Jessamine?" Charlotte asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah, my brother and I could both see ghosts after we got our voyance marks. Some that other people can't see, too." You said.

Tessa and Will exchanged a glance, and Will spoke. "That would give credence to your claim of being a Herondale. The issue is, however, that the only living Herondales are myself, my family here, and my sister, now Cecily Lightwood. Our father had a brother, but he and his wife both died before they had any children."

"But his name was Tobias, right?" You asked, gears beginning to turn in your head.

"Yes, actually." Will said, raising an eyebrow. "How would you know that?"

"Because Tobias Herondale was my ancestor. He had a son no one knew about, and that son married a faerie woman..." you trailed off. "And eventually, I happened."

"That raises another question, then." Charlotte said, her expression speculative. "If you are a Herondale, and you bear marks, how is the clave unaware of you?"

"I think," you began, bracing yourself to be called crazy. "That maybe I'm not from this time, or this dimension. I think something I did in the attic sent me here, wherever here is."

"London." Tessa supplied, "July, 1903."

You stood up in shock. "1903? You can't be serious! I - how? I wasn't even born until 1997 - oh my god, Kit, I can't -"

"Y/N!" Tessa exclaimed, placing her hands on your shoulders to push you back in your seat. "Please, calm down, I'm afraid you'll make yourself sick."

You let her push you back into your seat, but stared blankly at the floor as your jaw worked.

"Is such a thing possible?" Will asked quietly to Charlotte.

"To have travelled through time? Not as I know it, but perhaps it could be a cruel faerie trick? It's known that time moves differently in the faerie realms." She replied, still cautious in her tone.

You brought your arms around yourself and hugged your sides as the gravity of your situation set in. Kit - oh god, was he looking for you? Would they know to look in the attic? What would happen to your little makeshift family? You heaved a sob, and the attention of the adults turned back to you.

Tessa - motherly Tessa - let propriety slip and pulled you to her side, and you clung to her for dear life. The consul came closer and passed a comforting hand over your hair.

"No matter how you came to be here," she said softly, "You are a nephilim, and you are displaced and distressed, and so you will always be supported at this Institute. We will do all we can to discern this situation, but you will be in good hands with Tessa and Will."

You hiccuped and met her eyes, seeing genuine compassion in them. She offered you a hesitant smile, and turned to Tessa.

"She will remain here until we are able to reverse this. I will confer with the Silent Brothers on this matter, and see if they know of any case like this. Until then, perhaps she will be treated as a ward of the Institute?"

Tessa nodded, her hold on you still firm. "Of course. We'll see to it."

Will went to see the consul out, and Tessa stayed behind, with you still holding onto her. "Y/N?" she asked, all gentleness and care in her voice. You wanted to believe this was your Tessa, the one who had become like a mother to you, but this Tessa knew nothing of you at all.

"Yes?" you said, your voice hoarse from crying.

"I don't know how you've come here, but I want you to know - I trust what you say. I have seen many impossible things, but still I am met with surprises. I also know that since I am a warlock - I am fated to live many, many years. If you truly were not born until 90 years from now, it's possible you know me in your time. I am sorry that I don't know you, but know that you are safe here."

You squeezed her, and managed to say, "Thank you. You've always been so kind to me. I - I'm glad I crash landed somewhere with you here."

[spiltscribbles]

Hi love!! I just took a look at the prompt lists u have linked and the prompt “you said what to your teacher?” sounds like it could be absolutely hilarious if u wanna write something for that!! <33333

Notes: OMFG HIYA DAN BABEYYYY!!!! Thank you SO SO much you absolute angel face!!! This was the first thing I tried writing and actually enjoyed and just wrote it all at once in the middle of the night dlkfsajlkgjasdofiewghklsdgj THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU!!!!

.-

You Said What To Your Teacher? | Send Me A Prompt💜

.-

“Do you remember when we were nine and I gave you my last sparkler because Regulus was crying that he wanted your purple smoke bomb and I was left with only my shitty poppers to throw when the ball dropped on New Year’s.”

Sub half way to his mouth and mobile lodged between his shoulder and ear, Sirius gently sets down his sandwich and dabs off the splatter of mayonnaise on his cupids bow as he tries to parse out what in bloody hell his best friend is blabbering on about.

“Oh, hi, Jem. Yeah I’m doing well, mate, thanks for asking. Works the typical grind but I think Minnie is about to give me that promotion any day now.”

“It’s a simple yes, or no answer, arse.” James retorts haughtily, sounding somehow frenzied and buoyant all at once.

“Pardon me, I thought we would just have a normal conversation like typical blokes,” Sirius sniffs, tilting back on his chair and clicking around on his desktop to look at the revised dimensions of a new building his firm was employed to begin constructing in south London. “Now remind me, my sweet. Was this the same New Year’s that you stuffed that stink bomb in the back of my shirt after stomping on it so it’d explode on me?”

“That is neither here, nor there.”

“I still feel the debris on my poor back on especially rough days.”

“You’re a twat.”

“And you’re acting dodgy.”

“I need a favor, and I thought a transactional proposition would be the sort of thing that you corporate types would appreciate.” James jabs, laughter in his words. Sirius just hopes he could picture the middle finger he’s emulating through the line.

“Just because you’ve completed residency doesn’t make you a special snowflake, you do realize this, correct?” Sirius tells him, already shooting a message to Minerva and his team that he’ll be jetting off a bit earlier so he could do whatever it is that James needs.

“Slander! It makes me the most special snowflake, Black. And it eats you up inside.” James retorts, moving away from the receiver to yell something towards one of his interns about a patient or the other.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, gorgeous. Now are you going to ever tell me what it is you need from me, or keep trying to get in my trousers, because listen either option is aces on my end. I’ll just add it to the document I send Lily every week about how I’m so obviously your dream partner.”

“It always just comes back to your burning jealousy that I chose her over you, doesn’t it?” James pretends to sigh forlornly. “Listen, my love. It’s not my fault that some birds are just born prettier than others.”

“Psha, I’m the prettiest fucker you know, Potter.”

“It’s the attitude for me, just absolutely no decorum about you.”

“Is this about that snag with me teaching Haz how to properly curse at a United fan?” Sirius asks, moving to collect his satchel and jacket. “Because I stand by that. We’re a fucking Arsenal family, damn it.”

“We were at brunch when he called that poor woman a weasel faced toad, Sirius.”

“Good man,” Sirius insists, waving goodbye to the secretary who always gives him the most devoted heart eyes.

“Well, speaking of the sprog. I’m stuck here with a new bout of paperwork to get someone transported to us from a hospital in the states, and Lily’s stuck in the maternity ward till at least nine.”

“Ooo, a bit of God father/God son time then??”

“With great power, comes great responsibility,” James says gravely.

“What have I told you about your shitty nerd references and how they give me a rash.”

“Spider-man isn’t simply for nerds you absolute pleb! There’s been three bloody franchisements for him in the past two decades!”

“Imma let Harry eat ice cream for dessert, I reckon.”

“Then you’ll have Lily to answer to,” James warns, still seething from the jibe. “And if you’re taking the bike, can you at least park a block away. This new school we’ve enrolled him into this year is well and proper, and I’d not want them to think that our son’s God father is some sort of ne’er-do-well.”

“You put respect on Rosco’s name, or so help me!”

“Right, right, the only constant love in your life.”

“She’s the only one who understands me.”

“ Whatever, just try and behave decently, will you?”

“Hah, and why wouldn’t I?” Sirius asks as he tosses his helmet into the air, patting Rosco in apology for James’s impertinence.

“Hmm, we’ll see, won’t we.” James says in an irritatingly ominous tone before clicking off the line.

.-

There are a lot of reasons why Sirius could hate James. He could hate him for forcing Sirius to join him on his morning runs, or hate him for his intensely perky attitude about every sodding thing. Hell he could probably hate him for his complete disregard of the mad sport that is American football. But all that withstanding, Sirius reasons that for today he’ll hate him for his cryptic fucking warning and how he knew this would happen and is probably cackling over it as he fills out a new set of discharge papers.

That absolute, unceasing, weasel faced, toad.

The ‘this’ that Sirius is referring to of course is the fact that Sirius is left dumbstruck and gawping as he strolls leisurely into Harry’s third year class, eyes roaming over the small cluster of children who had stayed after hours for extra tutoring and who are now just lounging around, waiting for a guardian to come and pick them up. But instead of first spotting the dark head that belongs to his God son, Sirius’s gaze focusses on a man… A very fit, very golden, very beautiful man. A man that’s all lithe limbs and honey eyes, and a small, quietly encouraging smile as he kneels down to chat with a blonde girl who’s got on a blue tutu and rainbow poncho.

“Fuck you James Potter,” Sirius hisses lowly to himself as he tries to collect his wits about him, and remind himself that flirting with his God son’s actual, fucking professor is not a thing that is approved of.

“Uncle Pads!”

Sirius starts, feeling suddenly grounded as Harry bounds towards him and hugs his torso with a tight squeeze. “Hiya Prongslet,” he says, grinning indulgently as he ruffles a hand through Harry’s wild mop of curls.

“Am I coming to yours then?”

“If you’ll have me,” Sirius winks, tapping the bridge of his specs fondly.

“Brilliant! I’ll just tell Professor Lupin.”

Oh, that’s a very sexy name if Sirius does say so himself, though he tries not to marinate on the fact as he waits patiently while Harry leads that absolutely delicious looking man towards him. And God, the way he’s tipping back his head only slightly to meet Sirius’s gaze— It’s lewd.

“You’re Harry’s God father, yes?” Is the first thing Professor Lupin says to him, stretching out a hand that’s all long fingers stained by ink, and knobby knuckles that Sirius suddenly has the insane craving to nip at.

Jesus, he needs to get himself the fuck together.

“Ahem, yes, yes. I’m that. I’m Sirius I mean— Oh, my name, and erm— I’m also serious that I am his God father, that is a thing.” Sirius rambles, feeling like a complete idiot as he takes hold of Remus’s slender hand into his own, and shakes it with two, awkward pumps— holding onto it for a beat too long.

Sirius repeats, fuck James Potter.

“Right,” Professor Lupin says with something akin to amused. “Well he’s only got his maths to finish tonight, and a bit more reading for history.”

“Oh, good. I’ll definitely help with that. I’m great with numbers.”

“Wonderful,” Professor Lupin nods at him before peering down at Harry and grinning widely. “You did great today, just keep up with your novel for Professor Meadows and you’re splendid. Yeah?”

“Thank you Professor Lupin,” Harry preens, chest puffed out not unlike how James had used to do back in their school days every time they won a footie match.

“Nice meeting you Mr— ah?”

“Black!” Sirius quickly offers, straightening up immediately like a rose bud stretching towards the sun. “Sirius Black.”

The corner of Professor Lupin’s mouth twitches up, and Sirius is struck with the searing need to see the full force of his smile directed towards him— and also to snog it right off. “Remus Lupin, just to make things even.”

And fuck.

Sirius swears— hand on his chest and face to God— that it was a flirtatious inflection that Professor Lupin— Remus— used right then, but before he can even have the chance to toy around with the development, a mother in yoga pants and Starbucks strolls in and Remus walks over to greet her hello, and before Sirius knows it, Harry’s tugging on his hand and dragging him out the room.

Damn it.

.-

Despite his total and complete fail of a first meeting with Harry’s sickeningly attractive professor, the rest of the night turns out to go as perfectly as planned. Otherwise known as them stuffing themselves with greasy pizza, and heaps of ice cream, and staying up an hour past Harry’s typical bed time to play Far Cry instead. And if Sirius contemplates asking him more about this elusive Remus Lupin, he bites down the urge and concentrates on sticking his spoon onto his nose before Harry could beat him in their match.

It’s totally fine.

That is until it’s six o’clock in the ruddy morning and he’s woken up by the loud knocking of his front door, only to be met by the grossly chipper faces of Lily and James— that sort of glow is only a thing that happens after a good shag, and Sirius knows that for fact.

“We brought pasties,” Lily tells him as she sashays indoors, red main of hair billowing in the late autumnal breeze and her voice ringing out like she’s some sort of radio show host.

“How was last night?” James asks him as he toes off his boots and follows Lily to the kitchen.

“Fine,” Sirius gripes, still pissy from James’s cruel joke. “Haz is always great.”

“Mmm, I hope Remus didn’t give you any trouble picking him up, you’re on the paperwork and everything but it’s the first time he ever met you and all.” Lily says, faux lightly as she picks out the plates and turns on the electric kettle.

“You knew!” Sirius accuses emphatically, pointing a heated finger her way and then directing it towards James.

“Knew that he is exactly your type?”

“And that you’d look like a tosser talking to him for the first time,” Lily tacks on, giggling.

“Fuck you, and fuck your weird, married telepathy!”

“Nah, not telepathy mate,” James assures, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re just incredibly predictable.”

“We’d have to be thick not to know that you’d be a total idiot around him— You’re the worst whenever you have to talk to pretty people who you actually want to do more than just screw.”

Sirius feels himself go scarlet. “That is an attack on my person, Evans!”

“Yes, dear. I know.” Lily croons, patting him on the cheek like a doting grandmother. “But does it help that I think you should totally go for it.”

“Lily! He’s our son’s teacher!”

“Only for this year,” Lily shrugs, sitting on a stool that lines the island. “Besides, I really like Remus. We have the same cycling class and he taught me how to make my face into an emoji like I’m a Kardashian.”

“You guys talk about’m like he’s the second coming of Christ,” James harrumphs, doling out their mugs with a scowl.

“He’s just so pretty,” Sirius sighs, beyond dejected. “Did you see that little birthmark on his cheek that looks like a butterfly! And Jesus, his eyes are like a third of his face!”

“Don’t forget how well he fills out those trousers for such a skinny bloke,” Lily adds, mixing the honey into the tea that James had just poured her.

“I alas did not get a chance to give his ass the appraisal it warrants,” Sirius bemoans.

“I very much do not like the idea that my best friend and wife are thirsting over the same bloke.” James sniffs.

“Jealous, lover,” Lily leers, laughing at how James wrinkles his nose at them and kisses his cheek in reassurance. But Sirius doesn’t pay them any of his attention, is too distracted by painting the picture of Remus in his mind’s eye, and how he really does need a second look if he loves himself at all.

“He’s like those caramel lollypops from when we were kids,” he tells them unceremoniously. “But instead of that tart middle, he’s just sweetness through the center.”

“You want to lick him, huh?” Lily asks, smirking at him with a lecherous air.

“I want to lick him until he goes mad and begs me to just flip’m over and—“

“Enough!” James quickly cuts in with a smack of the hand against the countertop. “This man is Harry’s professor, I can’t have these sort of images of him while I go to pick him up after class.”

Sirius jerks forwards, beyond excited. “Then let me pick up Haz from school today, yeah? It’ll give me a chance to speak with Remus!”

“Why do you want to talk to Mr Lupin?”

The three adults turn around at once, met by the image of Harry in the spare uniform he keeps at Sirius’s house— hair sleep rumpled and specs askew.

“Hallo my beautiful boy,” Lily grins, her and James each kissing his cheek and giving his shoulders a squeeze as he sits between them.

“Why do you want to talk to Professor Lupin, Uncle Sirius.” Harry asks again, earnestly as he tares apart his cheese and veggie pasty. “Do you like him?”

“Oh, erm—“ Sirius feels his insides squirm, not sure where to step, afraid that his God son might not appreciate the fact that Sirius’s already planning out a reception party for his impending nuptials with Remus.

“I think it’d be cool if you did.”

And in an instant, Sirius feels his shoulders loosen and his smile go elastic. God he loves this kid. “yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nods, taking a sip of his water to clear his throat. “Ron told me that Professor Lupin use to be married to his Uncle Fabs and then they broke up last year, so I bet he’s sad now. And you’re the best person on the planet and you always have fun! You should make him happy again.”

Sirius’s heart seizes, suddenly needing to be the person to help Remus with anything he could ever need.

“You’re a diamond kiddo, you know that?” Sirius says, standing up to lift his eight year old God son into the air and blowing a raspberry to his cheek. “Shove it to your dad, you’ll be my best man at the wedding, yeah?”

“Imma need to start smoking if he’s gonna be this much of a prat all the time now,” James mutters lowly, making it so Lily crows with laughter.

.-

That afternoon finds Sirius parked back outside Harry’s school, straightening the collar of his jacket and combing a hand through his hair. Though once he steps into the nearly emptied classroom, he’s still slack jawed when Remus looks over his shoulder towards the door and grins at him in such a glimmering sort of way, that it punches Sirius in the fucking solar plexus!

“Mr Black, twice in one week?”

“Hah— Yeah.” Sirius hopes his smile comes out more gentle than a grimace. “It’s not far from my work, actually. So I guess I’ll be around more often.” In fact, the drive is a good twenty minutes from his office, but Sirius doesn’t think that’s really relevant.

“Lucky us.” Remus retorts, looking up and down his frame with a slow, languid sort of gaze that makes Sirius feel filleted right open. “Well I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“You can know whatever you want,” Sirius practically sputters, wonders if he should try and act cool, especially now that Harry’s wandered over towards them.

“Is that an open offer?” Remus asks, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and lying back leisurely against his desk.

“Yes. Yes, absolutely.”

Remus’s beautiful face goes absolutely incandescent right then. “Good.”

“Good,” Sirius repeats, completely devout.

“Oh, before you go,” Remus says, pointer finger raised to freeze them while his other hand fishes into a drawer of his desk. “It’s not a caramel pop, but at least the Tutsi ones are sweet all the way through.”

Sirius feels his jaw completely drop while Remus gently places the stick of the treat into his open hand, tossing him a quick wink before walking off to chat with a new parent who had wandered in.

“Harry— You said what to your teacher.”

“That you said he looked like a caramel pop,” Harry answers, totally owlish and unconcerned.

Sirius contemplates drowning into the lake, but then decides that this is a game he will not lose against Remus.

“All right, Prongslet. Let’s grab us some chocolate eggs and you can tell me everything you know about your dear Professor.”

“Okay, Uncle Pads,” Harry beams.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

[k-xxiv]

“You hurt everyone,” said Jem. “Everyone whose life you touch.”

“Not you,” Will whispered. “I hurt everyone but you. I never meant to hurt you.”

Jem put his hands up, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Will—”

“You can’t never forgive me,” Will said, hearing the panic tinging his own voice. “I’d be—”

“Alone?” Jem lowered his hands, but he was smiling now, crookedly. “And whose fault is that?” He leaned back against the seat, his eyes half-lidded with tiredness. “I would always have forgiven you,” he said. “I would have forgiven you if you hadn’t apologized. In fact, I wasn’t expecting you would. Tessa’s influence, I can only guess.”

“I am not here at her request. James, you are all the family I have.” Will’s voice shook. “I would die for you. You know that. I would die without you. If it were not for you, I would be dead a hundred times over these past five years. I owe you everything, and if you cannot believe I have empathy, perhaps you might at least believe I know honor—honor, and debt—”

Jem looked actually alarmed now. “Will, your discomposure is greater than my anger warranted. My temper has cooled; you know I have never had much of one.”

His tone was soothing, but something in Will could not be soothed. “I went to get you that medicine because I cannot bear the thought of you dying or in pain, certainly not when I could have done something to prevent it. And I did it because I was afraid. If Mortmain came to us and said he was the only one who had the drug that would save your life, you must know I would give him whatever he wanted so that I could get it for you. I have failed my family before, James. I would not fail you—”

“Will.” Jem rose to his feet; he came across the room to Will and knelt down, looking up into his friend’s face. “You begin to concern me. Your regret does you admirable credit, but you must know . . .”

Will looked down at him. He remembered Jem as he had been when he had just come from Shanghai, and had seemed to be all great dark eyes in a pinched white face. It had not been easy to make him laugh then, but Will had set himself to trying. “Know what?”

“That I will die,” Jem said. His eyes were wide, and fever-bright; there was a trace of blood, still, at the corner of his mouth. The shadows under his eyes were nearly blue.

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐰𝐨

full masterlist - fic masterlist

After her successful debut into the ton, Celaena Sardothein was much in demand.

The Hamel townhouse saw a constant stream of callers; many a gentlemen fawned over the charming, eligible heiress and many a visiting lady came with the intention of recruiting this new addition to their circles as a prospective bride to their own brothers and sons. Despite her determination to laugh off compliments and insults alike - or perhaps because of it - it was not long before she was declared at par with the most eligible debutantes of the season. How this distinction pleased the lady herself could not be discerned but regardless of whether or not she liked it, she was the talk of the season and invitations to exclusive events poured in. When she accepted an invite ti the Stanhope's dinner party, the rumor mill worked and it was not long before word reached Lord Fenrys Ashryver.

"This is all pointless," muttered James Galathynius to his cousin with a pinched expression on his face.

Lord Fenrys stared at him through the mirror, sprawled as he was on James' bed.

"Really, Fen," the incensed man tried, "I know how you miss my sister—we all do but I wish you would not raise your hopes again. It is simply not possible—"

"I know the last time we found a lead, it turned out to be a dead end," said Fenrys sharply, "but it's different now. I saw her. I am not so far gone in my grief that I won't recognise the girl whose portrait I see in your father's study every day, even if she has grown up quite a bit."

"She died in the fire."

"How do you know?" The familiar arguement from last week rose to the surface. "It could have been anyone! The anklet we retrieved from the little girl's body was the only evidence of her identity."

"The anklet, a man's body beside the girl's, the warehouse's distance from our estate, it was all too coincidental."

"I think our parents might have been wrong, Jem - it could have been a misunderstanding for all we know," he tried patiently, attempting to keep the frustration with his cousin out of his voice or expression. "There can be no harm in meeting her anyway, she still is the Hamel heir after all and I know you wanted an introduction; once you see her, you will know why I am so sure."

"If you insist, I will meet her," said James. "I fear you are setting yourself up for disappointment."

"I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

James regarded his cousin. "I hate to say this, Fen—"

"Then don't."

"—but it could be an impostor too. My sister had a significant inheritance, and father recently changed his will. Aelin's assets—"

"Aelin's assets, whatever they are, can be nothing compared to the Hamel fortune."

James frowned, knowing he was backed into a corner. "If we are, I should like to inquire into her background as evidence."

Evidence.

Fenrys wondered if he meant evidence against his claims or to support them but he readily agreed that it was the wisest course. Promptly, a note was sent to his solicitor to make discreet inquires about the Hamel business, the owner and his adoptive daughter. The solicitor, Mr Stone, was a competent man and it took less than two hours to provide the basic information: the Hamel's townhouse address, their rumoured income, her dowry and the stories around Miss Sardothein's 'adoption.'

"She isn't Arobynn's adoptive daughter like everyone assumed then?"

Mr Stone said, "Arobynn did adopt her, to be sure, but only on papers. Arobynn found her in the slums of London when she was but five, and persuaded the Rhunns—who have long been his dearest friends and loyal clients—to take her in. By all accounts, it looks like he took an active interest in her education but it was the Rhunns who raised her until Arobynn amassed for himself a big enough fortune, bought an estate or two in the countryside and took her in."

"How old is she now, do you know?"

"The young lady is eighteen or around, sir, though no one can be sure."

Fenrys shot a look at his cousin.

"And what can you tell us about the Rhunns, Mr Stone?" asked James.

"Nothing good, sir."

The cousins shared a look.

"Thomas Rhunn was a country gentleman until he lost his estate in gambling and like. He has been the Hamel Corporations' prime investor since it was founded some twenty years ago—that's where his fortune comes from," said he. "You will be interested in the bank records, sir, I think—he, uh, he gets an yearly sum of five thousand pounds every year from an anonymous account since 1798."

"The year they adopted Miss Sardothein?"

Neither cousin mentioned it was also the year Aelin had 'died.'

Mr Stone went on. "It is my belief, sir, that the money was for raising the young lady - the timing certainly matches - but it is not one of Arobynn's shell accounts."

"So you think someone else is paying the Rhunns to raise her?"

"I am."

"Their financial situation," James wondered how he should broach this, "Do you think they might employ deceit to secure wealth or position?"

Fenrys gave him an annoyed look.

Mr Stone, thoughtfully said, "Thomas Rhunn is a clever sort of man, sir, but too lazy for something so devious and his wife—a more insipid, unintelligent creature doesn't exist. The daughter, though, she is an ambitious one like her godfather." He hesitated, but the gentlemen looked so interested, he continued. "But I—I think, from what I heard, she is devoted to her trade and quote adept at it. I could not believe her capable of deception to achieve that."

The gentlemen sincerely thanked him for the information and he departed.

Fenrys turned to him. "So?"

"So?"

"So did you see the many proofs?"

"I didn't see any proofs, Fen. So she's the same age as our Aelin and she was adopted."

"The same year as Aelin disappeared!"

James frowned. "That doesn't mean—"

"Yes, it does." Fenrys huffed, more hopeful than ever. "To quote your own words, 'tis too much of a coincidence.'"

He fell silent, eyes shut and took a deep breath. "It's too much. If she is—If she didn't die, you know what it means? Edward has been a shell of himself all these years, my father—he is, he is on his deathbed and Aedion joined the army—he is on the continent somewhere and we might never see him! All those years we lost grieving, and she might never have been dead. None of us even thought to look! If we had, If I had... perhaps she would have been found sooner? But no, I wish to see her first. I will not worry about all that until I am sure."

Fenrys placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it will be hard and I am sorry for the years you wasted," said he with a calm, reassuring smile, "but all is not lost. If tis really her, your father could see her and know she is alive before he passes, Edward could finally let go of his guilt and have his sister back—he might even die of happiness—and we will call Aedion back; he will come once he hears she is back. Tis not too late to fix everything and save the years we all still have left."

"If it is her."

"I hope, that is, I really hope that it's her."

"Indeed." James nodded. "I hope so too."

"You said she is here?" Lady Perrington looked faintly scandalized.

James rolled his eyes as the crowd turned to look at the doors where a tall, blonde woman stood on the arm of a red-haired man. The room broke into furious whispers.

Beside him, a lady—Mrs Evans, perhaps?—tittered with a companion. "My George said she is not even legally adopted, you know? You don't stand that close to your godfather." This was meant to be a whisper but her voice was too nasally, the words carried over the room and people shared alarmed looks as the object of this conversation walked towards them. The woman kept talking, entirely unaware, "I could never countenance the very thought that she is to inherit a trade empire. All of her dowry will not find her a suitor if she acts like a man."

Miss Sardothein stopped in front of them. "My dear Mrs Evans! I am so grateful for your concern for my marriage prospects." Both ladies tilted his head curiously. She pressed on. "You of all people will understand the importance of caution, I am certain." Her back was towards him but he heard the smile on her face as she spoke. "Is dear Mr Evans' gout any better now?"

James choked on his drink and sputtered. Fenrys winked at him from across the room.

Mrs Evans' face turned red.

Lady Perrington jumped to her friend's rescue. "Miss Sardothein, why, it is such a surprise to see you here! Lady Stanhope has certainly been," here, she pursed her lips and then, commented in a suggestive tone, "liberal in her choice of guests. Your godfather," she nodded towards that gentleman, "is in trade, I hear. Pray, what kind of trade, can you tell?" The guests had all abandoned their own conversations in favour of eavesdropping on this one. Lord Stanhope looked torn between amusement and alarm while his wife openly and unattractively gaped at the spectacle.

Miss Sardothein lifted a hand to dismiss the enquiry. "Oh, I can never talk business on social events but you may ask your husband at your leisure. Lord Perrington regularly invests in many of our ventures." Though the lady's back was turned to him, her voice was fierce.

"Such a devious creature," a familiar voice remarked.

Rowan greeted his cousin with a nod before fixing his eyes back on the drama unfolding in front of them.

Lady Perrington was looking around in search of allies among the onlookers but when no one stepped forward, she inclined her head, her face colored. "Indeed, I shall," she said and hastily excused herself.

Mrs Evans followed suit, eyes firmly on the floor and James almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

Before his apparent sister—how he scoffed at that notion—could turn, Rowan approached at her side. It was rare indeed that the dour man approached anyone first and never so readily. The novelty of that alone occupied his attention.

"Miss Sardothein." He bowed.

She curtsied with a smile. "Mr Whitethorn." Another man approached with a lady on his arm. "Lord Fenrys! I did not know you would be in attendance."

Lord Fenrys bowed over her hand. "I came as soon as I heard you were attending." She laughed at the gallantry—a sweet, tinkling laugh that caught his attention and he again ignored his heart's nagging— and he turned to introduce his companion. "Allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr Rowan Whitethorn of Harcomb, Doranelle and his wife, Mrs Lyria Whitethorn." Fenrys' dark eyes glinted and he smiled charmingly, letting a loose lock of hair fall on his forehead.

"I have already met Mr Whitethorn." Celaena smiled at the woman, then with a less pleasant expression towards the woman. "Mrs Whitethorn, it's a pleasure to meet you."

James had met Mrs Whitethorn barely once or twice in his life and only in passing. He had expected a genial creature, if perhaps a little reserved like her husband but she looked like a simpleton.

Though the fabric of her clothes was expensive and the stitching perfect, but the colour was dull and did no favours to her sallow complexion. Her neck remained unadorned and she wore no necklaces, bracelets or earrings, a fact made more pronounced by the tight modest bun she wore her dark hair in. By her appearance, she seemed more suited to a nunnery than to a fancy dinner party as the wife of a gentleman of rank. She exchanged curtsies and shared greetings but otherwise showed no inclination to converse and hastily excused herself as soon as was polite.

Rowan stood where he was, brooding, stiff as a board when the tradesman's daughter addressed him. "I thought you would be happy here, at least, for you detest balls but you are scowling still."

Rowan said stiffly, "I detest social events."

"Even when you don't have to dance?"

"Even then."

"I should like to hear why."

"I doubt you would understand."

"Come now, sir," said she smilingly, "Do not insult my intelligence by assuming that. Tell me and I might."

"It is not that. I—I do not—you will laugh but I hardly ever know what to say and often give offense where it is not intended." He turned to her. "You cannot have any such problem."

She arched an eyebrow in question.

He said, "You are too lively and charming, you could not possibly manage it."

"And people are too apt to forgive a pretty face in general," she agreed.

His lips twitched. "You claimed you were not a fan of convention earlier but I see you have no love for modesty either."

"For false modesty, I do not. I freely acknowledge vanity to be my chief sin." Then, she paused, "Your wife is, she is terribly shy, I think, but I hope you will not trouble yourself so much on her manner."

"I would say she is more unwilling than shy," said he with uncharacteristic openness. "I hope you were not offended."

"Oh, not at all—"

"Dear cousin," an enthusiastic voice cut through the din of polite conversation in the room, "You must stop monopolizing the lady's time. There is someone I should like to introduce her to—James. James, man, she's here, look. Allow me to present my favourite cousin, Mr James Galathynius of Graceview, Orynth."

James turned to them and bowed politely as she turned.

Then his face paled.

"Aelin." He forced a smile. "Forgive me, that is, you look exceedingly like—"

"Like five-year-old Miss Galathynius? So I've been told before," said she good humoredly.

James blinked disbelievingly. His vision blurred. Blonde hair. Ashryver eyes—that damning feature he thought Fenrys had been exaggerating about and the button nose that both, Aunt Evalin and his mother had shared. His cousin, noticing his preoccupation, engaged Miss Sardothein—nay, Aelin—into animated conversation as one thought after another crashed into his mind.

Thirteen years.

Thirteen years lost in grief and regret.

Thirteen years of seperation when they should have been searching for her.

Aelin grinned triumphantly from atop the maple tree down at her brothers, cousins and friends, dress torn and muddied. Her expression had the tiniest hint of pride as she placed herself on a sturdy branch.

"You shall fall down hurt yourself if you do not climb down, Aelin!" exclaimed Elide fretfully, twisting her muslin dress in evident distress. "And then what will we do?"

"No, no, I never shall," she insisted with a pout. "I can make this my home and you may visit me whenever you would like."

"But you cannot stay up there forever! You would feel hungry," reasoned the ever-responsible Chaol, biting his lip. Barely nine-years-old, he was the first to tattle on his friends when mishaps occured between children as they often do.

"James can bring me food," she declared haughtily, pushing one braid over her shoulder.

James grinned. "And whyever should I? You never do anything for me. I will let you starve a little perhaps. It may teach you a lesson."

"May the devil take you!"

Edward, ever the polite elder brother, reprimanded, "Aelin! That is not the language we may use." He was alarmed when her eyes teared up. "I am sorry, Aelin, love, will you not please come down?"

Aelin sniffed. "You are being mean and I will never talk to you."

"But will you not calm down before our father sees you? You would be punished." He frowned when the little rascal stuck her tongue out. He added, "If you come down, I will convince father to give Mrs Norris a leave for today."

"You promise?"

Edward nodded. "A gentleman's word."

She nodded uncertainly, then looked down and whimpered. "I can't."

Edward groaned, prompting the others to snicker at his expense. He extended his hands towards the tree.

"Climb down," he said, "James or I will catch you if you fall."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How do I know he won't let me fall?"

"You are our little sister, Aelin," Edward said resolutely, extending his hands further as James did the same. "He will never let you hurt, I promise."

"A gentleman's word?" This time, her bright eye were trained on James.

He nodded. "A gentleman's word."

But had he not broken his promise? She ended up in a tradesman's family so far from home while everyone thought her dead. A five-year-old alone in the streets of London with no family whatsoever, thought he with growing unease. How terrified she must have been! He turned towards her now.

Her eyes had always been bright and her disposition lively but it was all tempered with a quiet dignified sort of grace. She looked beautiful now, the roundness in her face gone and her sharp features accentuating that inner fire.

His little sister.

As impulsive and easy to provoke as ever and every inch the little terror he remembered, down to the sneaky smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. He blinked the tears back into his eyes.

"You would not object, would you, James?" asked Fenrys.

He startled. "Huh?"

"Miss Sardothein here expressed her interest in chess and I thought to invite her for her a game tomorrow in your house." He raised an eyebroe. "Unless you have any prior obligations?"

He did have prior obligations but he would cancel them all. "I would be pleased to have you there."

Rowan frowned, looking between the three of them as if he was missing something. "Is that not... nevermind, but perhaps you should consider bringing your mother along, Miss Sardothein, for propriety's sake?" James cursed the man for his caution. A private visit would be an ideal time to reveal all to her but not if she brought someone along.

Thankfully, she dismissed the idea herself. "I will see if I can get papa to come along but I am a tradesman's daughter, far too involved in the business myself. I am certain my reputation will not suffer for it, unless you mind." Both he and Fenrys assured her that they would not mind at all and James reiterated how sincerely pleased he would be to have her there.

"We will see how pleased you are when I make you eat your dust, Mr Galathynius," she teased with a grin.

James grinned back. "I wouldn't be so sure."

Dear Edward,

I know we are not in the habit of exchanging correspondence as brothers ought but I hope you will forgive me for the presumption. Certain events of note have taken place here recently, such that it necessitated that you be informed immediately. I have a shocking good news to impart:

Our dearest Aelin did not die in the warehouse fire. She is very much alive and well.

By some stroke of luck, cousin Fenrys came across her at a ball and you will be shocked to hear she is the sole heir to the Arobynn Hamel, currently known as Miss Sardothein. He insisted she was our cousin since his first meeting, though I refused to believe him but I met her today and there can be no doubt to her identity. Fenrys invited her to a chess match in the evening tomorrow, where we plan to disclose everything to her. Father has not been informed yet.

Make haste to London, brother.

Yours,

James

Edward Galathynius, the Viscount Milton sat in his armchair, stunned.

He had been the last person to see Aelin. He had stupidly left her alone on the estate grounds that awful day. He remembered his father's panic, his mother's disinterest and his little brother's distress. He had been thirteen years old, back home from Eton for the duration of the summer. He envied James who could look at their childhood—her childhood—with the rose-coloured veil of forgetfulness. James was four when she was born. He would not remember her first steps, her first words, the nights she spent in his bed when she escaped the nursery, her favourite haunts and mischiefs. James would be able to look at their time together without being wrecked with agony because of his grief, the guilt for his blunder, the irrational desire to have her back. James would not dream up variations of that cursed day repeatedly over the years.

"Aelin! Aelin, love, slow down, no, not there, yes, gods, Aelin!" Edward shouted behind her. "Your frock! You look wild—no, stop that, Mrs Norris will faint of horror if you are any more muddied."

Aelin stepped into one mud puddle after another. She sent dirt flying back at her proper, dignified elder brother who pinched his nose in distaste. "Now we are both muddied," said she, grinning over her shoulder. "You can tell her that we didn't see the mud and both slipped."

"And lie to her?" He looked horrified.

Aelin tilted her head, fussing over her hair matted with mud. "Is it a lie if we do it for the greater good?"

"The greater good?"

Aelin nodded, pleased with herself. "Of not letting her faint. She is so thin, I sometimes fear a strong gust of wind will blow her away."

She ran further, bursting into giggles every few minutes and by now, had both of them looking no less than two street urchins. He tried to be stern with her but it was awfully hard to remain angry at someone so determined not to pay attention to a word. He knew better than to scold her, lest she summon her tears. That never failed to make him comply with whatever she asked.

"Aelin, there's a hole there, be careful. Stop running, will you—Aelin!" It was too late.

Her right hand gripped her ankle while the other was on her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle her sob.

Edward frowned as she whimpered in pain. "I told you not to run, no, no, don't cry, darling, it will be fine. I shall call for someone." They had been out on the grounds for a while now and the manor house was far away. She was too heavy for him to carry so far and he did not want to hurt her further.

He patted her cheek affectionately. "There, now, you are a brave girl, and I need you to wait right here. I will run back to the manor and bring help, yes?"

She promised she would not and he hurried back to the house.

The rest of the day remained hazy in his memories. He had arrived back at the spot with his father, a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach to find her gone. Search parties were organised and the merchants, locals and servants were all on alert for the beloved little spitfire. Day faded into night, then night into dawn when an express rider came with a letter from the magistrate and his father left the house in haste. He had chanced a look at his father's letter, his concern for her too great to worry about the impropriety of reading another's letter without permission. The contents read:

Dear sir,

I am afraid I have sad tidings to depart. One of the warehouses outside the town had caught fire the previous night and two lives were lost as far as we can determine. The first—a grown man, in his thirties or forties, has been determined as a local thief—and the second, a little girl, perhaps five or six years old. Her identity has not been confirmed but we retrieved a silver anklet among the remains. I beg for your assistance in identifying the girl's family. Do come as soon as you can.

Yours

Sir Arthur Renard

His heart pounded too loud in his ears. He felt hot and cold at once. He knew why only one ankle was retrieved from the corpse, because he had the other. It had fallen off her leg earlier that day and he had retrieved it with the intention to fix the loose lock on it.

His knees buckled.

"What happened?" James asked.

Edward shook his head, about to tell him not to worry. His words choked up in his throat and he excused himself from company, pale and ashen, his head throbbing. He ran up the stairs to his room, dismissed his valet for the night and slumped onto bed. The same bed he had shared with her on nights when she was spooked by thunder or some horror story Fenrys had related to her earlier that day.

Edward had left her there alone.

He buried his face in the pillow and wept.

Rhoe withdrew into himself after the funeral. Edward found comfort back at university, where no one or nothing would remind him of his loss, where he could avoid his guilt and pain.

Then mother died.

The summer visits to family became rarer and rarer. Father never insisted, retiring into his library, the one place where her presence was most patent and he was all too happy to remain where he was. The distance increased after he left university. His father preferred James' company, who was lively and good-humored and as James preferred the society to be found in London, they made the townhouse their home while Edward ran their country estates.

But now,

She is very much alive and well. His heart would not be satisfied.

He ordered for his horse to be saddled and riding gear prepared. The best of the family suites were to be prepared and aired out. She was alive and well, and soon, she would be back home.

Feeling happier than he had in months, Edward Galathynius spurred his horse onwards, fast as he could, to London.

I know I was supposed to update Cinders first but my brain insisted on rebelling and this is what happened. I will update that one soon tho, and I think you'll like it. 💖

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[tsc-updates]

Herongraystairs Reunion - Part 6

Part 5

Disclaimer: Nothing is explicit, but things do get... ya know... so if that’s not your thing, look away. Alrighty.

It was late, and everyone was tired and still adjusting to being alive again. Tessa had declared they’d all talk and make preparations the next day, after a good restful sleep. She was now showing everyone to their rooms, with some help from Cordelia, who still knew every nook and cranny of the house.

She hadn’t beckoned Will to trudge along with the group. He didn’t know where his children were. Jem had told him they were with his siblings, and that Mina had asked for him specifically, but when he came to the place Jem had said he last saw them in, they weren’t there.

It felt strange to him, to go search for them, to snoop around the house.

And yet, he found himself compelled to the room he’d first encounter them in.

He stood outside. He should knock. There is no one inside. But he should still knock. It was clearly their bedroom. It would be indecent not to knock. Even if it was empty.

He knocked.

“Come in,” came softly from the inside.

Will swore mentally.

Maybe he could make a run for it.

“Come in.” It was louder now, almost demanding.

There was no running now.

He took a deep breath and made himself strut into the bedroom.

Jem was standing between the bed and the closet. He was putting away clothes. He gave Will only a glance and a smile and turned back to what he was doing. “You’re hiding out too?”

“You’re hiding?”

“It’s far too much emotion that’s running around these halls. I’m far too tired for all of it. If I stand for another minute, I’m going to pass out into someone’s arms.”

Will chuckled. “Fair enough.”

“You?”

Will scratched the back of his neck. He was hesitating, and Jem could tell. Jem turned those brown eyes, brown, Jem’s eyes were brown, to him, and Will couldn’t help but look away from that all-too-knowing gaze. He sighed. “I have wanted this for as long as I’ve been… gone.” Jem’s gaze softened. “To see you and Tess again, to have our families together under one roof, to be reunited.” He looked down at his feet. “But now that it happened, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to act. I feel like I’m picking every single one of my words carefully, as to not step beyond some invisible line that’s been established between us. I don’t even know how that line got there in the first place. It’s us! And Tessa. There shouldn’t be a line.”

Jem nodded almost imperceptibly. “I know. I feel it too.”

“Tessa is currently out there showing people to their rooms.” He pointed a finger to the door. “And I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. It feels weird to go sleep in a separate room, knowing you’re in here sharing a bed with my wife and mother of my children. But it also feels weird to make you go sleep somewhere else as I share a bed with your wife and mother of your children.” He scoffed. “It’s a damn conundrum.” He shook his head. “Maybe we should just cut the problem at its root and all sleep in separate beds.”

“Or all share the same bed.”

A flare of desire went through him, which he tried to clamp down quickly. That’s not what Jem meant, of course, it wasn’t what Jem meant.

Their entire lives they’d been parabatai, best friends, confidants, but never more. Will never dared to assume that maybe, just maybe, Jem might feel the same feelings that sometimes overtook Will.

He looked up at him and saw Jem studying him, trying to decipher the expression on his face. With a start, Will realised it was time to come clean. It had been 142 years. He wasn’t even alive anymore. This reunion was brief, and he had to take as much advantage of it as possible.

He breathed in and out deeply, readying himself.

He sat at the foot of their bed and pat the spot next to him. Jem came over wordlessly. Their arms were a breath away from each other. It felt both too close and too far. Will felt the need to reach out, hold his hand, lean his head on his shoulder, to look into those deep brown eyes, to have no space between them at all. He felt the need to slide away, to get up and put miles between them, to turn his back on him and not have those brown eyes study him, to not see the face that caused him unworldly misery and immeasurable happiness.

“Do you know why my parabatai rune is over my heart?” His hand unconsciously snaked its way to that uncoloured swirl of lines on his chest.

“Because of the curse. You thought you would never get married because you thought you would never be allowed to have someone love you like that. Because you chose me as the only person who’d you let love you, and you wanted the rune and its placement to be a show of that.”

Will’s breath came out shakily. “That is all true. But there is another reason, one I never told you or Tessa or anyone.” His hands balled into fists, and he could feel his nails digging into the skin of his palms. “Before Tessa, I assumed I would never be able to love anyone the way I loved you. I didn’t want to love anyone the way I loved you.”

Jem shrugged. “It’s different, though. The love you feel for Tessa is different in essence from the love you feel for me.” Will looked up at him then, let his eyes show every word that he left unsaid. But Jem’s face was confused, as if he couldn’t, or was trying not to, read the truth. So Will shook his head, slowly, once, twice, three times. Jem’s face was blank. Then his eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up, his mouth falling open to give way to his only response. “Oh.”

Will gave him a small smile. “Surprise!” He singsonged in a low voice.

Jem was frozen for a few minutes. Then he, once more, said - “Oh.” He looked away from Will, staring straight ahead. “Oh.” Escaped again.

He went silent.

Will’s nerves were a mess. His heart was a rumble of thunder that never stopped, his stomach was flipping endlessly, and every part of him was both sweating profusely and disturbingly dry.

Then, after what felt like forever, Jem’s soft voice sounded through the room. “I always thought you didn’t feel the same way as me.”

It was Will’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

That’s when he saw that Jem was smiling. Grinning. Like a child that just got told they were going to have pudding for dinner. In a very un-Jem like fashion, he snorted. “I’ve spent the past 142 years hiding my feelings for you, and it was completely unnecessary because you apparently felt the same way.”

“Wait,” Will shut his eyes and tried to make sense of what he was hearing. “You’re in love with me too?”

“I’m in love with you too.” Jem chuckled.

Will didn’t know what to say. Only one thing came to mind. “Oh.”

“Admitting that is something I’ve been desperate to do for the past 142 years. Well, that and...” Jem licked his lips, and Will’s gaze dropped to them, that flare of desire running through him again.

This time he didn’t clamp it down, for Jem scooted closer, his eyes rapidly shifting between Will’s eyes and lips. He leaned in halfway. It was an offering. If Will wanted it, he’d have to chase it himself. He didn’t let himself overthink it.

He leaned in, pressing their lips together slowly and softly. It only lasted a quick couple of seconds, but Will felt awakened. He was on fire, entirely scorching. Will wanted more. But he needed time to compose himself.

Jem was much more impatient. His hands took Will’s face as he crushed their lips together again. Hungry this time. Hungry, needy, desperate. Will let go of all his defences and threw himself into it, clutching Jem’s shirt and pulling their bodies closer. He sucked on Jem’s lower lip. He gave a groan that made Will see fire behind his eyelids. His hands slid into Will’s hair, pulling at the curls. Will whined, in what he hoped was a sensual tone, and then Jem’s tongue was in his mouth, and he completely lost any sense of reality and time and space. All he could feel was Jem and love, and Jem, and fire, and Jem, and want, so much want.

He was losing air and nearly choking. He pulled away, reluctantly. Breathe, he thought. You actually forgot to breathe, you absolute idiot.

He looked at Jem, he couldn’t help himself. His lips were pink and slightly swollen, and his cheeks were dusted with a blush, and his eyes were wide and unseeing. But that, in his gaze, that was want as well.

Will would’ve gone back into it, would’ve sunk and drowned in the feeling it gave him, would’ve let himself burn alive with the fire inside his veins. But there was a sound of a throat being cleared, and then he was looking up, and that was Tessa standing there, looking at them, arms crossed.

They sat there, speechless, staring at her. What could they possibly say?

But then she smirked. “Well, that saves me the awkward conversation about it.”

Will furrowed his brows, but Jem spoke up before he could. “Wait, you knew?”

She scoffed. “The two of you weren’t exactly subtle.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Will asked, finally finding his voice, which came out a bit hoarsely, to his entire and full dismal and embarrassment.

She shrugged. “If you wanted to talk about it, you would’ve. It wasn’t my place to force it out of you.”

Will nodded. Silence set between them. He looked down at his hands. “Now what?”

“Now,” Tessa’s voice had a familiar, intimate tilt to it. “We finally get to do what we wanted for, quite literally, over a hundred years.”

He looked up, and next to him, he saw Jem mimicking his action. “What do you mean?”

Tessa smirked. Her hands disappeared behind her back, and after a few flicks of her wrists, her dress came undone in front of them. Will’s heart quickened. Oh…

She took their hands and pulled them up. Will’s legs felt like jelly. “I have no idea what to do.”

He looked to Jem for help, who threw his hands up. “Don’t look at me! I know even less than you!”

“We’ll go with the flow.” Tessa offered. “Do what feels right.” She turned to him. “And we can start right here.” She put her hands on his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips to his.

He melted into her. It was just as he remembered. His hands came up to her hair, burying them into the long brown waves. She sighed into him, or maybe that was him, and he lost all sense of everything around him. As fast as it started, it was over, with her pulling away only far enough for their noses to still be touching. She licked her lips as if she couldn’t get enough of the taste of him. Her lips broke into a smile. “Some things truly never change.” Her hand cupped his cheek, and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing the inside of her wrist. He wanted more, and the look in her eyes promised the more would come.

She turned to Jem, and Will felt fear creep on him. Would he feel jealous? Anger? Would his heart break at the sight?

His fears were unnecessary.

Before Tessa could pull him down, Jem pulled her towards him by the waist. They were kissing, and Will’s heart didn’t break. He didn’t feel anger. He didn’t feel jealous.

He felt desire.

For her. For him. For what was about to happen between them.

[purplebass]

“Where am I?” can you do this with jordelia or herongraystairs? I love your writing!

Hi, and thank you! 💖🥺

Since I couldn’t decide, I wrote two version of the same fic. The first one is Herongraystairs but it also has Jordelia and Blackdale, so it’s set in the TLH timeline. The second one is the same, but only Herongraystairs, and set in the TID timeline. Of course, they do have a slightly different ending. Hope it’s okay! 🌼

Couples: Herongraystairs, Jordelia, Blackdale Rating: T

TLH TIMELINE

Tessa had been there when the mantid demon had pushed Will and he had fallen on the cobblestones. She had been busy herself fighting another one, and hadn’t noticed that her husband hadn’t gotten back on his feet until after she killed the creature. They had been ambushed during night patrol, after they had separated from Cecily and Gabriel, who were nowhere in sight. She had run to him, cradled his head in her hands, and had been gutted by the awareness that she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t draw any rune to heal him, because she wasn’t a shadowhunter. She could just call for help, and luckily for her, her brother and sister in law had caught up with them.

Cecily had drawn rune upon healing rune on her brother’s arm as they waited for Bridget to arrive with their carriage. Time seemed to stand still as Tessa caressed Will’s hair as they ran to the Institute. He still hadn’t regained consciousness, and she was worried.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Cecily had tried to comfort her with a smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time he falls on the ground and hits his head. Perhaps he’ll wake up even madder than he already is.”

Tessa had managed a smile. “Yes, you’re right,” she had agreed. But when they brought him up in the infirmary, Tessa couldn’t help but call for Jem. It always surprised Tessa how Jem could literally appear at the Institute’s doorstep as if he had been there all the time, as if he had never left. And to her and Will, he hadn’t.

Where is he? Jem wondered, but Tessa didn’t have the time to reply because he was already flying up the stairs, as if he sensed where his ex parabatai was.

Tessa sworn that she heard him sigh, but she could never be sure. She witnessed as Jem, their Jem, checked on Will. Don’t worry, he has a tough skin, Jem told her, his hand touched her arm to reassure her. And a thick skull.

Tessa had managed a smile. She trusted Jem, and Will trusted him too. If he said that, he just meant that he was sure. “Thanks,” she replied. “Will you stay?”

Jem seemed to hesitate. I should not, I cannot, he told her, and she swore she heard him sigh. Just a few minutes, until he wakes up.

“He would want to see you,” Tessa said, just as she heard Will grumble from the bed and turned in alert. But he kept on sleeping.

In the meantime, James and Cordelia also got there.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Tessa told them. “Especially you, Cordelia,” she said gently, smiling at her daughter in law. “You should be resting. Are the kids with your mother?”

“Yes, they’ll be staying there tonight. We couldn’t have not come, after hearing what happened.”

Don’t you worry. He is not in a threatening condition, Cordelia. Jem said. And I agree that you should have rested. You are due in less than a month.

Cordelia blushed. “We are going to go back to Curzon Street once he wakes up.”

“Yes, we just wanted to check he’s alright. Shouldn’t he stop going on patrol? He is getting old,” James said, and his mother shrugged.

“Do not tell your father that,” Tessa warned, as Cordelia sat on a chair nearby.

A few minutes later, Lucie and Jesse appeared. They were wearing gear, because they had also been on night patrol. They seemed to be discussing something, but they stopped talking once they entered the infirmary.

“Is he okay, mam?” Lucie wondered with concern, grabbing Tessa’s hand for comfort.

“He’s just knocked out, dear,” Tessa replied. “Shouldn’t you be home?” she asked, smiling. She was happy that her two children had gotten married, but it was always nice to see them at the Institute. Not that they didn’t visit, but they also had their life now.

“We wanted to check on papa first,” Lucie answered. “We were on patrol, anyway.”

You shouldn’t have gone on patrol, in your condition, Jem told Lucie, and Jesse crossed his arms on his chest and nodded.

“Couldn’t agree more with your uncle,” Jesse said, and he exchanged a glance with his wife and sat down on one of the beds.

“Is there something you’re not telling us, Lucie?” James wondered, his arm on Cordelia’s shoulder.

“Yes,” she said. “And you will know in due time. But I would love for papa to be present too.”

They heard Will grunting. Tessa strolled to him, and grabbed his hand in hers, as her children and their significant others who were also sort of her kids, watched from their seats.

He was frowning, and gritting his teeth. Perhaps he was in pain, or having a nightmare, Tessa thought, but then he opened his blue eyes, which relieved her instantly. “Where am I?” he asked, gazing up at her and then at Jem.

They exchanged a glance. “You are at the Institute, Will. What do you remember?”

“The stench,” he wrinkled his nose. “Skull cracked open…” He wanted to sit up, but his head was probably throbbing. Tessa helped him, and then he glanced at Jem. “James, you’re here! This means I hit my head pretty hard on the pavement.”

You did, Jem said, his voice soundless and flat. Do you remember it? Do you recognize us?

Tessa wasn’t sure if he meant Jem or his own son.

“Of course, I recognize you,” Will answered excitedly, glancing at Jem. “But she,” he turned his head to Tessa, who stood expectantly still by the bed. “I see two Tessa’s.”

“It’s your daughter Lucie, Will,” Tessa said.

“Papa,” she said with a wistful tone, holding his stare. “Papa, it’s me. Lucie.”

Tessa turned to Jem, unable to hide her apprehension. He may have temporary memory loss, he revealed. It could disappear in a few hours, or longer.

Tessa sighed, but didn’t let go of her husband’s hand. He was looking at her with the same loving eyes, radiating tranquility and happiness. Something didn’t sit right with her.

“What a pity that you don’t remember about me,” Lucie shrugged. “Your daughter who is very much pregnant right now!”

“What? With child?” Will sat up right, and hit the back of his head on the bedpost. “Ouch!”

“Careful!” Tessa admonished him, checking his head. “So, you were faking it, I see.”

“Lucie, is that for real?” Will asked, glancing at Lucie and then at Jesse, who was right behind her. “She really mentioned a child, didn’t she, Jem?”

I am afraid, I do not possess this information, Jem answered. He would have probably rolled his eyes if he could have. Because he did know the truth.

“You’re so cruel, the both of you,” Will protested, and touched the side of his head. “Especially you, Jem! Jesse! I know you know about this. Why are you withholding information from me?”

“No one is withholding information from you, papa,” Lucie protested, nearing the bed. “We were going to tell you tomorrow, at lunch. But then you got hurt tonight, so we thought we may tell you when you woke up.”

“Lucie is right,” Jesse said, putting a protective hand behind his wife’s back. The two looked at each other again, grinning.

“What amazing news,” he cried out. “Not only Cordelia and James are having their third child, you’re also having a child. I am the luckiest grandfather alive, and I haven’t turned fifty yet! I would have gladly hit my head several times, if it meant that I’d be learning this again and again for the first time.”

“Please no,” Tessa said, and everyone laughed with them.

TID TIMELINE

Tessa had been there when the mantid demon had pushed Will and he had fallen on the cobblestones. She had been busy herself fighting another one, and hadn’t noticed that her husband hadn’t gotten back on his feet until after she killed the creature. They had been ambushed during night patrol, after they had separated from Cecily and Gabriel, who were nowhere in sight. She had run to him, cradled his head in her hands, and had been gutted by the awareness that she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t draw any rune to heal him, because she wasn’t a shadowhunter. She could just call for help, and luckily for her, her brother and sister in law had caught up with them.

Cecily had drawn rune upon healing rune on her brother’s arm as they waited for Bridget to arrive with their carriage. Time seemed to stand still as Tessa caressed Will’s hair as they ran to the Institute. He still hadn’t regained consciousness, and she was worried.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Cecily had tried to comfort her with a smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time he falls on the ground and hits his head. Perhaps he’ll wake up even madder than he already is.”

Tessa had managed a smile. “Yes, you’re right,” she had agreed. But when they brought him up in the infirmary, Tessa couldn’t help but call for Jem. It always surprised Tessa how Jem could literally appear at the Institute’s doorstep as if he had been there all the time, as if he had never left. And to her and Will, he hadn’t.

Where is he? Jem wondered, but Tessa didn’t have the time to reply because he was already flying up the stairs, as if he sensed where his ex parabatai was.

Tessa sworn that she heard him sigh, but she could never be sure. She witnessed as Jem, their Jem, checked on Will. Don’t worry, he has a tough skin, Jem told her, his hand touched her arm to reassure her. And a thick skull.

Tessa had managed a smile. She trusted Jem, and Will trusted him too. If he said that, he just meant that he was sure. “Thanks,” she replied. “Will you stay?”

Jem seemed to hesitate. I should not, I cannot, he told her, and she swore she heard him sigh. Just a few minutes, until he wakes up.

“He would want to see you,” Tessa said, just as she heard Will grumble from the bed and turned in alert. She strolled to him, and grabbed his hand in hers.

He was frowning, and gritting his teeth. Perhaps he was in pain, or having a nightmare, Tessa thought, but then he opened his blue eyes, which relieved her instantly. “Where am I?” he asked, gazing up at her and then at Jem.

They exchanged a glance. “You are at the Institute, Will. What do you remember?”

“The stench,” he wrinkled his nose. “Skull cracked open…” He wanted to sit up, but his head was probably throbbing. Tessa helped him, and then he glanced at Jem. “James, you’re here! This means I hit my head pretty hard on the pavement.”

You did, Jem said, his voice soundless and flat. Do you remember it? Do you recognize us?

“Of course, I recognize you,” Will answered excitedly, glancing at Jem. “But her,” he turned his head to Tessa, who stood expectantly still by the bed. “Who is she? By the way, you’re beautiful.”

“Will,” she said with a wistful tone, holding his stare. “Will, it’s me. Tessa.”

“Oh, nice to meet you. Perhaps you’re single?”

Tessa turned to Jem, unable to hide her apprehension. He may have temporary memory loss, he revealed. It could disappear in a few hours, or longer.

She sighed, but didn’t let go of her husband’s hand. He was looking at her with the same loving eyes, radiating tranquility and happiness. Something didn’t sit right with her.

“What a pity that you don’t remember about me,” she shrugged. “I wonder who will take responsibility for my child, then.”

“Child?” Will sat up right, and hit the back of his head on the bedpost. “Ouch!”

“Careful!” Tessa admonished him, checking his head. “So, you were faking it, I see.”

“You mentioned a child, Tess,” he said with excitement, taking her hands in his. “She really mentioned a child, didn’t she, Jem?”

I am afraid, I do not possess this information, Jem answered. He would have probably rolled his eyes if he could have. Because he did know the truth.

“You’re so cruel, the both of you,” Will protested, and touched the side of his head. “Especially you, Jem! I know you know about this. Why are you withholding information from me? I’m the father!”

“I thought you didn’t know me,” Tessa goaded, grinning. “I thought I would have to raise this child alone, with Jem’s help.”

“And I would have been eternally grateful to Jem,” Will glanced at his old parabatai with affection. “How did you know I was faking it?”

“Because you winked at Jem, that’s why,” Tessa admitted.

“I thought you didn’t see me.”

“Oh, Will. You’re not very subtle.”

“Jem!”

You know that she is right, Jem agreed.

“Tessa!” Will exclaimed, then. “Are we really having a child?”

“I thought that was a given.”

He hugged her, trying not to move too much, because his back still hurt from the fall. He also grabbed one of Jem’s hands. “What amazing news,” he cried out. “I would have gladly hit my head several times, if it meant that I’d be learning this again and again for the first time.”

“Please no,” Tessa said, and both of them sworn they heard Jem laugh along with them.

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

[intrulogical]

Worthy

author’s note: i will never, ever write a fanfiction ever again. ever. but anyway, this fanfic is just logan angst and remus helping him, and i never typically write stuff but i just like logan angst this much. BIG THANKS to the logang discord for beta reading (oh my poor tenses). specifically, big thanks to: elle, aj, jem, orb, ellie, anders, mac, reese, roan, remy, zippy and everyone else who read it before i got to post it! (i'm not sure if you read it but shoutouts to meg and lo too bc you two are cool)

pairings: Remus/Logan (can be viewed platonically or romantically)

warnings: Logan angst, morally ambiguous light sides & Thomas (I aimed it to be canon compliant but the sides are still Rude), glitching, self-deprecation, self-neglect, self-doubt, bruises, emotional breakdown, self confidence issues, crying

word count: 6242

summary: Remus stood nervously in front of Logan’s door, hesitant to knock as he held an ice pack in hand.

It was ridiculous, really. Remus wasn’t one who’d typically provide comfort for someone, but he couldn’t help but wrap his mind around what he saw earlier.

or,

Remus underestimates how neglected Logan is and attempts to help.

(ao3 link)

Remus stood nervously in front of Logan’s door, hesitant to knock as he held an ice pack in hand.

It was ridiculous, really. Remus wasn’t one who’d typically provide comfort for someone, but he couldn’t help but wrap his mind around what he saw earlier. 

While it had been some days since the episode was filmed, the tension that scattered the Mindscape was still incredibly thick. The general atmosphere had been so impossibly unnerving that even Remus felt discouraged to execute any pranks he had in mind because he was just that bothered. Even the “Light” Sides’ daily routine shifted. Remus hadn’t seen them do a Movie Night or eat meals together for a while, and despite how uninvolved Remus was with their problems, it disturbed him to no end. 

Something even more worrisome was what Remus had witnessed during dinner some time ago. While the sides didn’t gather during dinner like they used to, Patton still prepared meals for them to eat. Sadly, the sides refused to eat as a group and would simply grab a plate of what Patton prepared and walk right back into their room. Earlier, Remus joined Janus in grabbing something for themselves, and coincidentally, they ran into an uncharacteristically unkempt Logan.

As Remus was about to jab at how incredibly unlike himself he looked, he noticed something off about Logan’s neck-- there was a large splotch of fresh, discolored bruising that coated it. Janus and Remus both shared the same sentiment as they gazed at the logical side in unease, but Logan quickly detached himself from the scene, making a beeline for his room.

There was no mistaking it-- those bruises that covered Logan’s neck were identical to the bruises Remus witnessed manifesting right after Janus violently pulled Logan out of the episode using his cane. As the sides weren’t technically human, some of their injuries heal more quickly than usual, but their healing powers were heavily dependent on how much Thomas acknowledged their worth as a side. One would think it odd that Remus would be informed of the semantics of how a side’s health works, but as a “Dark” Side, he was well acquainted with how physical injuries would heal slower as Thomas didn’t value them as important as the “Light” Sides. 

And honestly, it was quite concerning that Logan, one of the more important “Light” Sides, suffered the same kind of neglect that Remus was experiencing.

Maybe that’s why Remus stood in front of Logan’s door. The realization that Logan was just as disregarded as him unexpectedly yet intensely haunted his mind. Despite how different Logan and Remus were in terms of personality, they shared striking similarities with one another, from the way they were treated by others to how talkative they both were. The thought of how Remus related immensely to Logan’s struggles resonated with him, and while he obviously couldn’t forget how poorly they treated each other in the past, he still aimed to mend their relationship for it to become more durable.

After much stalling and lip biting, Remus rose his hand and rapped on Logan’s door frantically. Remus couldn’t help himself; his nervousness mixed with his unending concern amplified his jitteriness. From the other side of the door, he heard a yelp from Logan.

“I apologize, I’m currently working, so I cannot accompany whoever--”

“Do you really think that’s going to stop me from barging in, Mark Zucker-turd?” Remus retorted, earning a disgruntled sound from Logan.

“Remus,” Logan said, sounding exasperated, “Can’t you simply forget about what you’ve witnessed a few moments ago? I assure you that I’ve got everything under--”

“Again, do you think anything you say is gonna stop me from barging in?” Remus replied. Logan was silent for a few moments. Once silent, there were a few things Remus didn’t notice before he knocked. On the other side of the door, Remus heard soft whispers as if there were imps scattered around Logan’s room speaking to him, maybe mocking him. While the voices were hushed, they spoke in unison, yet nothing about it sounded like a symphonic harmony.

Eventually, Logan replied, “Do you really have to?”

“Well, no, I suppose not, but none of my visits ever have a purpose behind them, do they?” Remus said, then continued with, “I also brought some ice.”

He heard a sigh coming from Logan, “Fine, you may enter, but I strictly prohibit you from staying for more than five--!”

Remus didn’t allow Logan to finish his sentence before slamming the door open with some vigorous force. Logan jolted at his thunderous entrance, even dropping his pen from the suddenness of it. Remus grinned widely at the logical side, shutting the door quickly as he sauntered toward Logan. “Catch,” Remus said, tossing the ice pack at Logan, and impressively, Logan caught it.

“Thank you,” Logan said in a deadpan tone, immediately pressing the ice pack against his livid bruises, “but you didn’t have to do that.” Logan finished and turned away from Remus to continue his work after he retrieved his dropped pen.

Remus was about to retort with some witty insult before the voices that Remus heard from outside began to chime in again, this time more audible as Remus was inside Logan’s room. Allowing himself to stay silent for a few moments, he decided to listen to the voices that echoed through Logan’s mess of a room. The whispers were just as overwhelming as Remus expected them to be; all of their voices synced together inharmoniously, creating an ear-piercing, bothersome noise.

“Pardon Thomas’s thoughts. I understand that they can be… overbearing, at times.” Logan said, noticing Remus’s disturbed expression, “They’re usually not this clamorous but Thomas has been deeply troubled lately— I’m sure you can understand. Then again, I’m assuming this is tame compared to your room, yes?”

“Well, yea, but there are definitely more voices in your room compared to mine. I’d rather listen to a kindergarten being burned down rather than this crap.” Remus stated. 

“That is a lovely image to picture, Remus.” Logan said sarcastically.

“You’re welcome, Dick-ola Tesla.” Remus replied, earning a tired huff from Logan. “What are you doing, by the way? Y’know Thomas isn’t planning to devote any time this week to work on something-- self-care and all that jazz.”

Logan whipped his head around, shooting Remus an incredulous look, “You are aware that I am in charge of Thomas’s memories, right? I’ve had to postpone my work for a few days for… confidential reasons. Because of that, I have to reorganize everything at this moment before the workload becomes too overwhelming.” Logan paused before continuing, “Not that I’d become distressed, of course. I find it rather exhilarating, actually… not that you care, anyway.”

“What?” Remus exclaimed, “No! No, all is good— it looks like you needed someone to talk to, anyway—“

“I was performing quite adequately without your company earlier, Remus.” Logan’s tone remained unwaveringly monotonous.

“Yeah, your gigantic bruise totally proves that,” Remus retorted and Logan stopped writing, “Are you trying to summon Janus or something? Look,” Remus fiddled with his sleeves, “I’m not one who usually provides comfort, I mean—“

“I do not need to be comforted.” Logan sneered.

“When did Thomas stop listening to you?” Remus decided to cut to the chase. The question must’ve set something off within Logan because Remus could hear the sound of paper crinkling. Remus decided to approach Logan to better converse with him, and that’s only when he noticed that Logan had ripped out a page from his notepad and crumpled it in fury.

“What, hit a nerve, dork?” Remus asked, but Logan still refused to look at him directly.

“Thomas still listens to me,” Logan said, but like the expression he had at the moment, his tone was doubtful, unconfident, maybe even mixed with a little bit of hurt. It pained Remus to see him in such denial, and his eyebrows even knit in concern as he observed that Logan’s hand began to shake.

“You know, Thomas doesn’t listen to me either. Then again, I do tell him once a week that he should drink an entire bottle of cooking oil… then again, he doesn’t listen to Orange—“ he saw Logan flinch, “—and Janus either, you know, before the episode, and they are both pretty good guys—“

“I am not like you or your friends, Remus,” Logan said, clearly irritated. “My methods of teaching have just been very difficult to comprehend for Thomas and the others, so I merely have to correct my flaws for Thomas to listen to what I have to say. That is all.”

“Dude, I know I’m just as crazy as Sweeney Todd if he were on crack, but that is seriously fucked up—,“

“I don’t need your input on how flawed I am.” Logan swiftly interrupted him, voice raised to the point it combated the millions of other voices that spoke across the room. Before Remus could reply, Logan grabbed a remote from the corner of his desk and pressed a button that turned on all of the televisions that decorated his walls. Remus had always acknowledged the televisions, but he never knew their specific purposes. 

Knowing Logan needed to cool off for a few seconds, he approached the televisions to observe what they were showcasing. All of the screens depicted different events that occurred for the past few days in Thomas’s point of view, ranging from when he achieved his new highscore in Word Crush to when he, Lee, and Mary Lee had a heart to heart about why Thomas was extremely glum during the reception. While it was somewhat a miraculous experience that Logan had access to all of Thomas’s memories, the audio that came from all the speakers and the voices that reverberated through the walls created an eerie dissonance-- Remus was surprised Logan didn’t seem bothered at all by the deafening noise. 

“I apologize for raising my voice,” Logan said softly. Remus almost didn’t catch it by how much it blended in with the blaring voices. 

“It’s alright, it’s not like you started World War Three or anything.” Remus said, in hopes of making Logan at least chuckle. He was met with no response. Remus chewed on his lip before carrying the conversation further, “Can I just say that all of these TV’s and voices are like, big stalker material? Like, you literally can witness any moment in Thomas’s life, whether he wants you to see it or not, and you can maybe even jerk off to--” “I aim to be as professional as I can be as I handle all of Thomas’s memories, Remus. It would be inappropriate for me to utilize them for personal gain.” Logan said, and Remus thought it was troubling how Logan could easily mask his emotions with a snap of his fingers. One second ago he showed distress, and now, he is indifferent. 

“You won’t even use it for blackmail against the other sides?”

“Janus-- Deceit--well, I am unsure of what to refer to him as since he didn’t reveal his name to me directly--is rubbing off on you.”

“So is that a ‘maybe’?”

“I won’t use it as blackmail, Remus,” Logan repeated himself, “Again, I am supposed to be professional.”

Remus rolled his eyes at him jokingly as he watched the different scenes that each television was projecting. On one screen, it showed the exact moment Logan joined the conversation as a person inside a textbox. The scene was highly unsettling as Logan’s digital form looked slightly comedic, but what was undoubtedly more unsettling were the reactions he had gained from appearing. Thomas was about to punch him, Roman had infinite eye rolls for him, Patton’s optimism was so evidently fake that Remus couldn’t help but cringe at his positivity. 

While Remus enjoyed the moments he spent with Janus and Orange (and maybe even Virgil despite his newfound spite for the “Dark” Sides), there were also some moments that Remus wasn’t so fond of remembering. Roman and Patton’s behavior towards Logan was reminiscent of the times Janus and Orange would both glare at Remus for being too insufferable. Or maybe it reminded Remus of the days they had to ignore him for being too intolerable. 

Logan and Remus really weren’t that different, after all.

“How do you cope watching footage of the others beating you up during every conversation?” Remus said, hoping it would get Logan to open up once more.

Logan stopped writing and shot Remus an unamused look. Remus noticed his grip on the ice pack had tightened as he viewed the television that showed the painful memory. “Last time I checked, I haven’t gotten into a physical altercation with any of the sides, and the closest I’ve gotten is when Janus forced me out of my textbox using his cane.”

“What I mean is, how do you cope watching footage of others shit talking to you? I would rather eat my eyeballs downed in superglue rather than watch any of this footage.”

“This is necessary for Thomas’s--,”

“Yea, yea, it’s very fucking important for Thomas. Y’know what I think? Thomas should just fuck off.”

“Real mature, Remus.”

“But aren’t you hurt at all? Thirty years of watching others insult you nonstop is kind of… overkill.”

If Remus wasn’t being observant, he would’ve missed it, but Remus swore he witnessed some items and furniture within the room glitch for a second. It was as if the furniture belonged to some dysfunctioning game and its material would transform into mere polygons for a few seconds. Remus’s eyes widened, but Logan looked unperturbed as if he didn’t see anything transform at all.

“Thirty years of organizing Thomas’s memories only prompted me to become more professional. Please stop trying to push this narrative that I feel anything negative when I have not felt, nor experienced emotions for that matter, at any moment in my life.” Logan said, voice rising again. This prompted the furniture to glitch one more time, and like earlier, Logan chose to avoid speaking of the elephant in the room.

“Well, I’m not pushing anything! I’m just asking a few harmless questions, that’s all.” Remus pouted, “But you do admit that memories like these prove that you haven’t been listened to for a long time.”

Logan sighed, stiffening a bit, “I…” Logan started, and his death grip on his ice pack is starting to worry Remus, “I suppose there’s no avoiding the fact that Thomas hasn’t been as attentive to my contributions as he was before but I-- I’m sure I can conjure up a plan for that to change. The others had made it understandable that I have been obnoxiously invasive for the past few episodes so if my hypothesis is correct, everything should return to normal if I become less overbearing for Thomas and become more passive while still being able to contribute to their discussions.”

Remus stood wide-eyed as he tried to process what Logan just rambled on about, only able to synthesize about half of it. Logan, with an embarrassed flush on his face, looked away, returning to his notepad, “I apologize. I intended to be less invasive yet ironically did the opposite just a moment ago.” he chuckled sourly to himself before proceeding, “You should probably go.”

“No!” Remus exclaimed, approaching Logan hurriedly.

“No?” Logan quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I’m going to stay until I…” Remus fumbled with his sleeves again, “Until I get to help you. You’re not doing okay, Logan. You’re hurting yourself.” Remus said, trying to sound as sympathetic as he can.

Logan, on the other hand, pulled a troubled expression, before masking it again. The glitches around the room were starting to return and the noise was becoming more unbearable.

“I’m not going to repeat myself, Remus. The only injury I possess at this moment is the neck injury you and Janus inflicted upon me. Other than that, I am doing satisfactory.” Logan said, his voice was wavering once more. 

“Logan, out of every side in this hell of a Mindscape, I can understand the feeling of distraught and pain you feel when you get dismissed by the other sides. Their treatment of you isn’t normal, and I cannot emphasize how much nothing about you is flawed or wrong like what the others imply--”

“I-- It’s interesting how my room is beginning to make you speak more logically--”

“You can’t avoid the subject, Logan.” Remus said, and Logan didn’t reply. Remus tried assembling a rational argument within his head, trying to recall anything he remembered from Orange about some weird philosophical lesson that he could apply at the moment. Then, he turned to his left, eyeing the largest television present in Logan’s room. On the bottom right of the screen, there was a red, flashing text that said “LIVE” which implied that whatever is being broadcasted on this screen was what Thomas’s current point of view looks like. And there, on the screen, was Janus, who was presently being summoned by Thomas.

And fortunately, an argument popped into Remus’s head.

“Okay, let’s think about this logically, since that is technically your gig, right?” Remus began, “If the others, including Thomas, stopped listening to you because you were too ‘invasive’, then why did Thomas begin listening to Janus even if he’d only met him once or twice before the episode was filmed?”

Logan gazed at him nervously, his hand reddening by how hard he was gripping the ice pack, “I-- I believe Janus offered some valuable points that would’ve contributed better to Thomas’s dilemma compared to the arguments presented by Patton and Roman--”

“Okay, you got it, but quick question: do you think Janus would’ve ‘improved himself’ if he were a little less invasive or present during that episode?”

Logan looked like his mouth has gone dry, “Uhm--”

“‘Cause if I remember correctly, you weren’t fucking around either during that episode. You presented the others with evidence to back up their arguments-- you practically did the same thing Janus did in this episode with me for when I first appeared! All of this evidence you have stacked up for some stupid hypothesis you formed is all so contradicting!”

“And what’s your point?” Logan glowered.

“This problem you have right now with ‘not being listened to’ isn’t something related to how invasive a side is or how much one talks. Janus’s situation is practically similar to yours, but isn’t it weird that he got listened to for the same reasons behind why you’re getting ignored?”

The thoughts were getting louder again as Thomas began to converse with Janus. Many of the thoughts complimented Janus, and while it exhilarated Remus that Janus was beginning to be more listened to, this only backed up the argument Remus was about to make.

“Don’t you think that maybe, maybe, the others are simply being a little bit too unfair about how they treat you? That nothing about you is wrong at all? It isn’t you who’s being unfair here, Logan, it’s the others! It has always been the others! These thoughts only prove that Thomas has been unfairly biased against you--”

“That-- that doesn’t make sense,” Logan says, and this time, he stood from his office chair. “The others have repeatedly informed me that-- that they know what’s best for me. They all share the same sentiments about-- about me, and-- and they’ve always made sure to showcase to me how correct they are compared to me, and this ‘unfair bias’ they have against me cannot be a possibility--,”

Logan’s saddened tone mixed with all the noises was just sheer torture to Remus’s ears. The thoughts that complimented Janus made it even more uncomfortable as it clashed with Logan’s self-deprecating sentences. “But what if it is? You need to value yourself a little bit more, Logan. You’re ruining yourself by letting others overpower and dominate you as if you were some kind of utility--”

“I told you, I am doing just FINE.”

Right as Logan’s voice began to reverberate across the room as if it was there to mock him, the room proceeded to taunt Logan with a thought that was somehow  louder than the rest of the voices. The voice seemed to articulate itself in a less frantic pace, mimicking Thomas’s voice exactly as if he was in the same room talking to them. It spoke,

“Y’know, with how more understanding and intelligent Janus is compared to Logan, he might be an even better logic than Logan himself.”

And with that thought alone, the whole room, including Logan, began to break and dematerialize. The glitches returned violently, not only warping every single item and furniture in the room but also transforming the ceiling and the carpet as if the room was going to destroy itself. No object in the room was safe from the glitch’s grasp as colors flash rapidly while everything practically warped and tremble viciously. The voices all mutated into a staticky mess as the pitch and tempo of each voice were altered to make them sound like something you’d find in a horror movie. The televisions were altered as it pixelated every memory and horribly modified each person’s face to look like it was something a demon would spawn.

And Logan. Logan. He was on his knees with his hands on his ears, trying to block out any distorted sound that tried to mock him. He himself wasn’t even free from the glitching as he was subjected to the same kind of torture every object in his room was experiencing. It was as if this glitch monster thingy, whatever it was, viewed Logan as just as worthless as the things he was surrounded by. He was viewed as something lifeless; he was viewed as an object, as a utility.

Remus didn’t realize he was frozen with panic until he began to hear distorted screams coming from Logan’s lips. He quickly rushed over to Logan’s side anxiously, mumbling incoherent nonsense as he tried to think of any possible solution for this unsettling situation.

“Get me out,” he eventually heard Logan say. Without any hesitation, Remus placed both his hands on Logan’s shoulders, ignoring the massive amounts of shock and pain he felt as he touched the spiky glitches, and he used every bit of his power to force him and Logan to be teleported elsewhere.

//

The moments in between sinking out and materializing again were always a blur. While it tended to calm down any rampant emotions that overwhelmed a side before they dematerialize, it was also a moment used by the sides to process everything that’s happened.

It was difficult for Remus to glance at Logan, but the grip he had on his shoulders were good enough to convince him that Logan hadn't dissolved or vanished. While Remus already deduced that Logan was negatively impacted by the immense neglect he received from Thomas and the others, he didn’t realize how horrendous their treatment had gotten. Remus even feared that there was a slim yet probable chance that within the next few months, Logan could be part of the “Dark” Sides.

Ignoring the pessimistic thoughts that emerged, Remus tried to focus on bringing he and Logan into his side of the Imagination. At first, he thought that their lounge would have been sufficient enough, but seeing how Logan would visibly flinch at the mention of Orange, Remus thought his room would be a better option. He was also able to accomodate Logan better if he chose the Imagination; nothing about their lounge was comforting besides their soft couch.

Before he entered the Imagination, he tried to manipulate its interior to turn it into something more reassuring for Logan. If Remus remembered correctly, Logan was quite passionate about astronomy, and he thought it’d be appropriate to bring Logan to a place he would find comforting: outer space.

Eventually, they materialized into the room. While Remus’s knowledge on stars and planets were limited, he was hoping that his assumptions on what outer space would be like were enough to appease Logan. Inside, the Imagination stretched infinitely and no place was left unadorned. Although he did not recall the names of every planet nor what they looked like, Remus challenged his creativity to produce his own kind of system of planets and stars. Additionally, he lowered the gravity levels of the room just to add to its realism, and now, he and Logan were floating amidst all of his beautiful creations.

When Remus was sure that everything in the room was executed perfectly, he finally risked glancing at Logan. Logan’s eyes were shut tightly but that didn’t prevent any teardrops from leaking out of his eyelids. As his eyeglasses were left behind, water droplets began to slip out of his eyes freely as it floated around the two of them. Logan even let out a painful whimper as he cried woefully to himself.

“I…” Remus spoke as his heart wrenched at the sight of the crestfallen side. Remus was fearful that he might say something inappropriate so he allowed himself to stay silent for a few moments for him to think. Eventually, he spoke in a reassuring tone, “Can I-- Is it okay if I touch you?”

Logan sniffled before he nodded, prompting Remus to raise his hands and place them delicately on Logan’s cheeks. He thumbed Logan’s tears away as it gradually floated away from his face. Eventually, Logan slowly opened his eyes, blinking away some tears that still remained. 

As there was barely any distance between Logan and Remus, this was the only time Remus could properly study Logan’s face. The bags underneath his eyes were excessively darkened as his eyes sagged wearily, and the fact that he was crying didn’t help ease his exhaustion. His hair was incredibly greasy; it was as if he hadn't given himself time to prioritize his wellbeing over the tiresome work he aimed to accomplish. Moreover, the livid bruises that coated his neck were still swelling as the ice pack Remus gave barely did anything to soothe it. 

Overall, Logan looked exhausted. 

“Remus,” Logan said, his throat slightly parched. 

“Yeah?” Replied Remus as he felt Logan’s hands make their way to meet his.

“I’m sorry.” Logan said, averting his gaze away from Remus. “You shouldn’t have witnessed that. I dragged you into my personal issues and it is entirely--” Logan choked as he tried to withhold a sob unsuccessfully. “It-- it is entirely--”

“Logan, you’re allowed to be sad-- you know that, right?” Remus told him, and immediately, Logan’s face crumbled. The tears returned in full force as he placed his forehead against Remus’s chest and began to sob once more. Remus gently wrapped his arms around Logan, pulling him closer as he felt Logan’s hands grip his arms firmly.

“I-- I just-- I’m just not used to this.” Logan uttered.

“No one is, to be honest. Emotions can be a bitch sometimes.” Remus replied.

Logan huffed out a wet chuckle, “Don’t I know it.”

The two of them huddled close for a few minutes, Remus allowing the repressed sadness Logan had within to burst out. As Logan let the long overdue tears shed, Remus rubbed soothing circles on Logan’s back, hoping it would provide Logan with ease and comfort. 

Part of Remus was exceptionally disgusted by how much the others’ treatment of Logan has completely ruined him, and the fact that they weren’t aware of their own cynicism only aggravated Remus further. There was an urge in the back of Remus’s mind to pardon himself, grab his mace, and utterly bash the other sides’ head in, and if it weren’t for Logan’s mental breakdown, he would’ve fulfilled that temptation by now.

Instead, he pulls Logan closer to him.

Eventually, after Logan’s sobs subsided. There were a couple sniffs here and there, but it seemed like Logan had slightly calmed down. 

Logan was also first to break the silence between them, “I wasn’t aware of how crying like a newborn baby kinda feels relieving.”

Remus chuckled at him, “So you wouldn’t mind telling me about what other thoughts you’ve been repressing in there?” he paused, “Of course, if you feel uncomfortable then I won’t push you--,”

“No, no… I--,” Logan let Remus loosen his grip on him slightly for them to see each other eye to eye. “I don’t think there’s any point to withholding information from you anymore. You are already aware of how… incompetent I am.”

“I don’t think you’re incompetent for having emotions, Logan.”

“But then why do the others make it feel like I am incompetent?” Logan blurted out, “No matter how many times I assume I performed something correctly or suggested an idea that I thought was valuable, the others still convince me that I’m wrong or-- or I’m just grabbing attention. Initially, I thought that they were wrong, but then Thomas started to agree with the others every time we had an argument and it really didn’t take many instances for me to begin questioning my worth.”

Remus’s eyebrows knit together in concern, “Other people’s opinions on you don’t dictate your worth, Logan.”

“Then why are they so insistent to prove how-- how-- how fucked up I am?” Logan asked, tone distressed. Consequently, Logan took a deep breath to compose himself. “I’m sorry, I can’t-- I’m just at a loss of what to do. Growing up, I thought I was somewhat like… Thomas’s savior, his key to success, but then it turns out that all my efforts were just a waste.”

“That career change did a number on you, didn’t it?”

Logan’s lips thinned nervously before he replied, “I hate to admit it but I don’t think any moment in my life could amount to how pained I felt when I realized that Thomas didn’t want to pursue a career in engineering or astronomy. I began to question things that I thought were true. Did Thomas even genuinely listen to any plan I told him about? Did he think I was wrong? There were just so many questions, so many hypotheses to prove, and it bothered me so much because you know how I strive to be the most perfect I can be for Thomas. But how can I be perfect if everything I do is brushed aside or ignored?

“But I didn’t think they were wrong for— for neglecting me. They’ve already proven to me how beneficial they are to Thomas and how-- and how righteous and just and correct they are compared to me. It just felt wrong to think of them as wrong when I’ve already accepted the fact that it was me who was being a burden to them all this time. I just… I’m not used to it. I aim to be as perfect as I can be, I want to improve myself, but why does it feel like nothing I do is good enough? 

“And sometimes, I don’t know who is to blame. Is it them? Is it me? Is it both of our faults? If they say I’m wrong, and I feel like I’m wrong, am I really wrong? Are they capable of being wrong even if their insults and jabs resonate with me as if they were right? And if they were wrong, then how come I still feel like I’m a terrible side? Why do I want to believe they’re correct so badly?” 

Logan sucked in an enormous breath once he finished his spiel. While Remus was unquestionably proud and honored that Logan was able to finally open up to him, comprehending what Logan rambled to him was a whole other story. The sullen expression on his face wasn’t helping either.

“Logan, I…” Remus spoke, “I know nothing I say right now can magically fix this problem as if it never existed in the first place, but you, Logan Sanders, aren’t worthless, and anything the others say about you does not define your worth.”

“But why--”

“Why are they persistent? Well, I don’t know if you know, but the other sides aren’t exactly always so righteous and god-like?” Remus said and proceeded to sigh, “What I mean is, you need to value yourself a little more, Logan. You’ve trained yourself to listen to whatever the others are bitching about and  immediately think that they are righteous even if they’re probably just being assholes to you. 

“You’ve been so selfless and forgiving towards the other sides that you’ve ignored that you’re destroying yourself, Logan. You have listened to the others and prioritized them so much even if sometimes, the person who really needs to be listened to more than anything else is yourself. You’re worthy, Lo. You’re incredibly intelligent yet you’re so fun to hang around with. You’re so selfless and sweet and so lovable-- there are so many things I can say to convince you that you are worthy, but you also need to do your part in remembering that. Take care of yourself, give yourself some time to rest. You’ve punished yourself too much that it has made you exhausted. You have to value yourself more, Lo.”

And with that line alone, Logan began to shed tears once more, “I know I am exhausted, I just--” he cried, placing his forehead against Remus’s chest once more, “I just don’t know how to stop thinking about my flaws and my mistakes and everything that is wrong about me.”

“Honestly? Same.” Remus said, “It’s never an easy process, Lo.”

“How-- How did you get over it?”

“Well, I had Janus ‘self-care is my number one priority’ Sanders, so that’s one thing.” Remus was glad to hear that that made Logan snort, “Another is… time. And distancing yourself from the people who hurt you.”

“The others haven’t hurt me.”

“They have. It’s okay to admit that the people who you love are capable of hurting you and are capable of being wrong. It’s perfectly normal.” Remus said. 

The arms that wrapped Remus tightened, “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” Logan admitted, “I… Remus I just-- Thank you. Thank you so, so much.”

“You’re welcome, dork.” Remus replied, smiling softly as he looked at Logan, “Well, actually, you’re only welcome if you do take a break, okay? If my efforts in comforting you have all been useless and I see you working your ass off the next day, then fuck you, I guess.” Remus joked, and Logan snorted again. 

“I’ll try my best.” Logan replied. They floated in a comfortable silence again as they had their arms wrapped around each other. Logan allowed himself to cry, allowed himself to feel, and Remus couldn’t help but feel immensely proud of Logan. 

Like earlier, Logan was first to break the silence once more, “If I… If I were to take a break, would it be alright if I spend it with-- with you?” Logan said, looking up at Remus again, “I’m just scared for the glitch thing to happen again and I think I’d feel much— much safer if I were with you.”

Remus blinked at him once, then twice. Then, the biggest, toothiest grin appeared on Remus’s face. “Of course, Jimmy Nude-tron, you don’t have to be all shy about it! We’ll have the best sleepovers and dissect bodies together and-- and--,”

“Stargaze?” Logan suggested.

“Yeah, hell yeah! We’ll stargaze so fucking hard that Janus is going to be jealous.” Remus exclaimed, making Logan chuckle, “Plus, I can even allow you to make your own planets and stars, if you want! I have no fucking clue what astronomy is really about so maybe you can give me a few lessons here and there.”

Logan eyebrows raised, “Even if you lack knowledge on astronomy, you made such a magnificent replica of outer space, Remus.”

Remus couldn’t help but flush at the compliment, “Oh, uh, thank you, Swell-phaba Thropp.”

Silence.

“That was a horrible nickname.”

“Agreed, pretend I didn’t say anything.” Remus said. While he thought that they'd calmed down enough and were ready to exit the Imagination, there was one more thought that he had in the back of his head that he felt needed to be addressed.

“I don’t mean to bring the mood down but… are you going to tell Thomas about the glitching?” Remus asked, and he physically felt Logan stiffen anxiously. 

Remus was about to apologize before Logan interrupted and spoke before he could, “Maybe. But not now. I don’t think I have the energy or the motivation to see him at the moment.”

Remus nodded in understanding, “While I would advise you to do everything at your own pace, I do want to remind you that you shouldn’t stall it too much either because we don’t know what those glitches can do, Lo.”

“I know, Remus. I promise I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”

“Good.” Remus said, “Do you want to get out of the Imagination now?”

“If… If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay here for a few more minutes.”

“That’s perfectly gucci, dork, take all the time you need here.”

And the two continued to float, arms still remained wrapped around each other as it seemed like they didn’t want to let go. While they were too preoccupied with one another to observe the changes in their surroundings, in this very precious moment, the stars that encircled them seemed to be shining brighter than ever before. 

[bytheangell]

If you are still taking prompts, what would you think about writing something(s) based off of this, either/both, the Professor/TA, or the Writer/Editor?

Dedication (modern AU, Herongraystairs, check the link in the ask for full writer/editor prompt, a wonderful plot idea by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn!) (Read on AO3)

This is the first book Will and Tessa are collaborating on. They’ve written plenty of books individually and Jem’s worked with each of them in turn. But this is the first time they’ve co-authored, an experience that’s proving unique and challenging for all of them.

Being with Will and Tessa while they work on a new project is always a blessing and a curse. They’re two of the best writers of their generation and when they work on their own they’re brilliant, but when they work together - well, they’re also brilliant, but that brilliance is coupled with the occasional near-catastrophic clash of opinions and emotions.

Which is where Jem comes in.

Where Will and Tessa are so driven by passion and feelings, Jem finds it much easier to distance himself from their project (and from the writers themselves) enough to see the bigger picture and find solutions before the issues build up. Like many things about the three of them, it’s a perfect balance - they just work, better than anyone (including Will, Tessa, and Jem) ever imagined possible when they first got together.

It’d been a messy start, with Will and Jem already together but both developing serious feelings for Tessa after they met during a book event. The three of them quickly became very close. There were whispers of which of them would end up leaving, then confusion when the answer was none: instead of two of them growing closer and shutting the third out, they all seemed to adjust and adapt naturally around the three of them coexisting. They aren’t perfect, but they are perfect for each other, at least as far as Jem’s concerned.

Jem knows that what they have is special, which he reminds himself of over and over as Will and Tessa sit on opposite sides of the sofa, voices quickly elevating to nearly shouting over an issue with one of the characters Will is in charge of writing: one he’s chosen to give a pretty damning curse from a trickster faerie in this land of magic their current collaboration is set in.

“Tell him he needs to make the changes, Jem,” Tessa insists, the third time she’s repeated the demand now.

“Tell her that this plot adds depth, and without it, he’s boring,” Will counters. “Sometimes people - characters - need to be brutally honest about their own faults and issues. Sometimes people are disappointing.”

That’s how Jem can tell things are spiraling: when Will and Tessa - who have effectively communicated and collaborated on half a dozen bestsellers and who love each other more than Jem’s ever seen two people experience love - refuse to speak directly to one another. The moment they start talking around each other and at Jem instead is when he knows he has to step in and diffuse.

Usually, it’s a matter of taking a break, getting some fresh air, and coming back with clear minds. Jem normally isn’t one to pick sides, but this is different. He isn’t worried about the direction of the book… but after reading the latest draft from Will, which Will wrote while refusing to speak to either of them for a full week, he’s worried about Will. And he knows Tessa is, too.

“Perhaps a good starting point would be admitting this isn’t really about the character at all,” Jem says softly, gazing closely between Will and Tessa. Will looks a bit guilty and Tessa looks away entirely, which tells Jem that he’s right in guessing their concerns are also less plot-based.

“...what else would it be about?” Will asks defensively. But they can all sense how he’s been pushing them away lately, much like the cursed character undeserving of love he’s written in. It’s obvious that Tessa isn’t sure how to bring it up or else she would’ve already. Or maybe she already had and it hadn’t gone well.

“Tessa, would you mind making some tea?” Jem asks, waiting until she’s out of the room to turn back to Will.

“Will… you know this is about you. You barely talk to anyone for a week then come back with this character in such a self-deprecating mindset…”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just a character,” Will says, but Jem can tell he’s entirely unconvinced of his own words.

“So if Tess came back having written Evangeline that way?” Jem counters, and there’s that look of subtle guilt, right back on Will’s face as he frowns and pieces together why Tessa’s so upset with him.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Will sighs.

“We’re not mad at you,” Jem’s quick to point out. “We’re just worried. It’s been a while since you tried to push us away like this, I just want to make sure you’re okay. We both do. Take it out in the writing if you want, but talk with us, too. Alright, my love?”

Jem’s tense as he waits. This has one of two options: Will relents and listens to him and they all have tea and talk this out, or Will storms out and they don’t see him again for another day or two.

Will stays. “I’m just letting the pressure get to me,” he admits. “I’m sure that’s all it is... But yeah. Okay. Tea.”

Tea, meaning ‘I’ll stay. I’ll talk. I’ll try.’ Jem leans over and places a barely-there kiss on Will’s lips before he relaxes back in his seat. Reaching out a hand that Will readily takes, Jem gives it a tight squeeze as they both wait for Tessa to return.

They talk.

In the end, the character arc stays. With a few redeeming modifications at Tessa and Jem’s entirely unbiased suggestion, of course.

---

A little over halfway through the first draft things seem to stall out. They have a progress deadline that week with the publisher and they’re cutting it close - mostly because Tessa keeps tossing everything she writes without giving Jem the chance to look it over. Recently she’s let her curiosity get the best of her, delving into research she should be allowing Jem to help with.

...and when he says ‘delving’, what he really means is stubbornly obsessing over, nitpicking bits of lore to streamline, and doing hours and hours of research for single-line references.

“When was the last time she slept? Like, an actual night of sleep?” Jem asks Will one day after a quick touch-base meeting that went… not terribly, but not particularly great, either.

“You need to get her out of here. No books. No wifi. I tried to kick her out but… well, you can imagine how well that went,” Will admits, and Jem winces in sympathy.

“The Time Out Cottage?” Jem asks, referring to a small cottage they own for unplugged getaways, where the wifi signal is nonexistent and a landline exists for emergency calls. “That means we’ll both be out of easy reach, and with that Friday deadline-”

“I can handle it,” Will cuts him off. “She’s been getting in her own way for days now, but she refuses to listen to me.”

A few minutes later Jem tentatively knocks on the door to the small study that does, in fact, look more like a makeshift research library. He nearly doesn’t see Tessa behind the small mountain of books on the floor, but he hears her pen tapping rapidly against the hardwood. No, not just rapidly - anxiously. He knows that action all too well.

“Tessa, what number is that?” he asks, the question needing no further explanation past his accusatory tone and pointed look at a coffee mug, which is next to a second coffee mug, which is next to a cup of black tea.

“Four? No, wait… what time is it?” she glances around and seems surprised by the height of the sun in the sky. “It’s afternoon already?”

Jem sighs. “It’s nearly four o’clock, Tessa, and your blood is probably about 90% caffeine. Come on, get your things, we’re taking a trip.”

Tessa looks immediately horrified. “No! I can’t, we can’t! The deadline, and I still have to streamline the fae lore between the two-”

“Will has it handled for 24 hours. That’s all we’re asking. 24 hours without research.” “Jem, you know-”

“-that you’ll be twice as productive once we’re back and you’re refreshed instead of running on fumes and fever dreams?” Jem cuts her off, his tone kind but insistent. He bends over and picks up a piece of paper. “Tessa, my love, this is nearly incoherent.”

Tessa reaches up to take the page from him and frowns. “I… okay, I can make out some of this, but I’m pretty sure that bit talks about aliens which isn’t any more reassuring. Will did say I was writing myself in circles, but I thought he was just, well, being Will, so... Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need to step back for a bit.” Tessa sighs. “The Time Out Cottage?”

“I already packed you a bag,” Jem confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the middle of her forehead before reaching out a hand to help her up off the floor.

When they return exactly 24 hours later, Tessa gets back to work and the lore practically falls into place between the two of them.

They meet the Friday deadline without a problem.

---

Jem spends his free time playing violin while Will and Tessa go through the first draft and begin to brainstorm fixes for plotholes, new minor characters to add to scenes that feel a bit lacking, and other small improvements to really round out the story and the world they’re weaving. They both claim to think clearer with his music in the background so he stays, even if he doesn’t feel particularly useful for this stage of the process until they have a single, coherent draft to hand over to him.

These are the moments Jem’s own insecurities and flaws float to the surface. The moments he watches Will and Tessa, so alike, so perfect for each other, connect on a level he isn’t privy to. He knows it’s a silly thought, that he and Will have their own things, as do he and Tessa. But sometimes he wonders if they truly need him around, or if he’s simply just become too much a part of the routine to actively get rid of.

He watches them sit next to each other with shoulders touching, hunched over a small screen, whispering back and forth. There’s a small smile on his face, one that’s wistful and tinged with hints of longing that, much to his dismay, they pick up on.

“I know that look,” Tessa says, catching Jem’s gaze and drawing Will’s attention before Jem can wipe the expression from his face. “Get over here. I think we’ve done enough work for today.”

Will is the first to move over, making room for Jem in the middle of them. After placing his violin back in its case Jem heads over to join them on the sofa, embracing the way Will and Tessa immediately crowd into his space once he’s settled, both placing a comforting kiss to his temples simultaneously before resting their heads on each of his shoulders and a placing a hand in each of his own.

They talk a bit, not about the book, but about anything and everything else, and fall asleep there, still entwined together.

---

It’s rare for any part of one of their books to be a surprise to Jem upon publication. He sees all the drafts, talks them through the acknowledgments and dedications, double-checks the reference pages against the chaotic piles of books and notes around their home.

So he’s immediately (and rightfully) suspicious the moment they hand him the first advanced copy and tell him to open it, watching his every move with eager expressions. Excited, but anxious.

‘A dedication to the one most dedicated to us:

This book would not be what it is without the kind heart, encouraging words, and infinite patience of James Carstairs. Neither would we. Jem, you are a light in our darkest hours, and we don’t know where we’d be without you.

We hope we’ll never have to find out.

Jem, our love, will you marry us?’

Jem reads, then re-reads the dedication. He closes the book, then opens it again, reading it a third time for good measure.

“Well?” Will asks impatiently, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Tessa. Will huffs.

“I see you’re as dramatic as always,” Jem says quietly, instead of answering the question posed in the book. He knows his answer. He’s known for a while now what his answer would be, should the topic ever present itself, but he gets a bit of joy from making Will wait in anticipation just a short while longer.

“He wanted to be even more dramatic and show you at the event tomorrow,” Tessa admits. “But we decided against it. We thought you deserved the chance to say no without two hundred sets of eyes on you.”

Jem raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ll say no?”

“You haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Will points out, but he doesn’t sound nervous about it. Nor should he be.

“Yes,” Jem says, smiling brightly. “Of course it’s yes.”

[shadowhuntertrash]

Another possible prompt for you, Dialogue 7 with Will and either Gideon or Gabriel. As you can tell I am on a TID kick, although that might possibly be because of the RP I’m in. *shrugs*

We stan Gabriel and Will's friendship. Also Merry Christmas and happy holidays!!

Will hadn’t meant to be snappy all day but he’d woken up in a terrible mood and honestly just wanted Tessa, but Tessa was currently in America with Charlotte and Henry for business. He’d been going on demons hunts and raids to keep him occupied and distracted but there was nothing left for him to do today.

   On top of everything, Jem had stopped by the Institute the day before when Will was demon hunting which left him bitter and mad because it was very rare to see Jem nowadays and he hadn’t come back in time to catch him. 

   Gabriel was supposed to be coming over today to help Will with some files which he had tried to get ahead of because he was getting restless but it was just making him more annoyed than he already was.

   Will’s last straw was when James (who was six so really who could blame him) came in and spilled ink all over the desk and the documents he was trying to file. He had managed to get James out of the room before he completely lost it, which coincidently was right when Gabriel came strutting in.

   Will all but scream and chucked the ink bottle against the wall, watching it shatter with a strange sense of satisfaction. Gabriel paused and looked around, taking in the ink-stained desk, scattered paper, and shattered glass.

   He whistled lowly and turned to Will with a raised eyebrow that only made Will angrier because dammit he couldn’t do that. “What tornado came through here?” He asked teasingly, his smile faltering when he saw Will’s glare. Putting his hands up in mock surrender Gabriel shook his head.

   “Backtrack, I didn’t do anything so calm down. Not the enemy.” He said and Will turned his glare to the ink that was currently setting into the desk. “I didn’t say anything.” Will said, trying and failing to keep the anger out of his voice.

   Gabriel watched him carefully, taking in the angry look that Will couldn’t wipe away. “Are you going to stare all day or help me sort?” Will snapped, taking a stack of papers (albeit rather aggressively), and shoved them into the open drawer.

   With a sigh, Gabriel stepped forward and gathered some of the papers, stacking them neatly before he started reading them. “You want to talk about it?” Gabriel asked after a couple of minutes of sorting in silence, Will didn’t look up. “Talk about what?” He asked in a chipped tone. Gabriel sat his papers down and looked at Will, who kept his eyes firmly on the papers in front of him.

   Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh. “Will something obviously wrong.” Will sat the papers down with unnecessary force and glared at Gabriel again. “Nothing’s wrong.” He said in a tone of finality that Gabriel ignored. “Something is. What’s wrong?” He asked again, Will’s face faltered before it returned to anger quickly. “If you’re asking because you think you should since you’re married to my sister don’t bother. I’m fine.” He said, eyes drifting back to the paper though he wasn’t reading the words.

   Gabriel’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not asking for Cecily, Will. I’m asking for you.” Will’s mouth set in a firm line and his words came out bitter. “It’s not like you care, Gabriel. Just stop asking.” Gabriel’s eyebrows drew closer together as he said incredulously, “You’re my friend, of course I care about you!” 

   Will looked up at that, blatant disbelief dancing across his face. “No you don’t, we hate each other.” Gabriel went silent for a moment before letting out a breath. “You don’t actually believe that do you? I don’t hate you, Will, I haven’t in a long time and I do believe I’ve made the mistake of believing it went both ways.” Gabriel dragged a hand across his face and Will bit his lip.

   “We’re friends?” Will asked quietly, shrinking a little under Gabriel’s disbelieving gaze. “Yes, Will, we’re friends.” He said with a quiet laugh that lacked humor. Will bit his lip and looked down at the ink.

   “I just miss them.” Will said quietly, fiddling with the papers so he had something to do with his hands. Gabriel sat down across from him silently. “Who?” He asked matching Will’s quiet tone. “Tessa,” He said and then added quietly, “And Jem.” 

   Understanding crossed Gabriel’s face and he nodded slowly. “And it wasn’t just that, I missed them and that was most of it but then all these little things kept happening,” Will explained desperately. “Like yesterday, Jem came to the Institute but I was out distracting myself from missing Tessa and missed his visit. Right before you came in I was trying to sort and James ran in and spilled ink everywhere.” 

   Will looked so miserable that Gabriel couldn’t help the pitying look that overtook his face, it didn’t go unseen by Will. “Please don’t. I don’t want pity I want you to understand, and you do understand.” He said, his blue eyes so startling that they reminded Gabriel of Cecily.

   “You know what it’s like to gain something from the war but lose something too.” Will said and then added quietly. “Do you ever feel like you don’t deserve the happiness you got? Everyone lost so much and we both lost someone close to us but here we are living well with loving wives and children and just-” Will cut off with a sad shake of his head. “It’s unfair.” 

   Gabriel closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. “I do. I know exactly how that feels Will, trust me, but you deserve the happiness you have now. You went through a lot with Jem, Tessa, and Cecily. Hell, I know you went through a lot with Gideon and me and I’m sorry again for all of that. You deserve the happiness you have now. You deserve the life you’ve built Will, it didn’t come easily.” 

   Will frowned at the paper in his hands but gave Gabriel a small smile when he raised his head. “Tha- that means a lot. Thank you.” Gabriel waved it off with a smile. “It’s what friends do. How about we file these so we can get the children together later and destress.” Will gave him another smile and a nod.

   Who knew Gabriel could be such a sap.

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XIII

More author’s Notes at the end because it may contain spoilers! 

But if you’re just joining us... where the heck have you been?

Here are the previous parts vvv:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

They had moved Cordelia to the best guest room in the Institute, small but comfortably furnished with a narrow oak bed and a simple writing desk, but pleasantly decorated with blue striped wallpaper and flowery chintz curtains. A lace-skirted sink, with running water, occupied one corner, and a large window stood open to the night and the fragrance of the garden. In the distance, a shimmer of silver indicated the sun on the Thames.

James walked in carrying an impressive stack of literature he’d taken from the library under his arm and in his free hand he carried a lantern illuminated with the soft bluish glow of a witchlight. He saw Cordelia first, her red hair vibrant against the white pillow case. Color had returned to her skin and the thick black veins that ran underneath it were now gone. The thick top quilt was pulled up and tucked around her chest so that her shoulders and arms were out and rested by her sides. She was modestly covered by an ivory cotton gown. Every once in a while, her fingers would twitch against the fabric of the top quilt and it felt as if the weight of the stack of books weighed on James’s chest.

He set the books on the foot of the bed and sat on the wooden stool beside Cordelia. Wishing more than anything, that miraculously, she would open her eyes and turn towards him with a smile.

“Dickens, Chaucer, Wilde, Homer, Sophocles,” said Jem as he sifted through the books James had brought. “Interesting choices.”

“I brought things that might encourage her through the darkness,” said James.

“Nothing like a good epic to encourage one through dark times,” said Jem, as he set The Iliad back on the stack. “She was administered medicine not long ago, so she is peaceful and still, but do not be alarmed if she cries out. If she begins to sweat or claw at the blankets, come and find someone immediately. If you find yourself growing tired and in need of some rest, you will also need to find someone to take your place.”

James remembered his father and the fierce devotion he had shown his mother when she had fallen ill after transforming into her clockwork angel during the war. He never left her side, not even to eat or drink, or so James was told by relatives and maids. And any time Tessa would fall ill, succumb to an injury, or give birth, Will remained by her side until she made it back on her feet again. His parents remained his highest example of love and devotion. After nearly twenty years of marriage, they still seemed to illicit in one another the emotions of young love: a bit reckless, always public, possessive, but demure, and full of endless patience. James hoped to one day find a love as eternal as the one his parents shared, and he thought he had when he met Grace Blackthorn. To learn that his feelings were simply the product of an enchanted piece of jewelry left a sinking feeling in his chest. Not because of the loss, his feelings for Grace always felt burdened, troublesome, and lonely. He grieved for the love that had the potential to burn as brilliant as his parents.

A sharp pain burst across the center of James’s forehead. He leaned forward, his eyes shut tight, and tried to rub the pain away.

“James?” Jem came beside him and placed a light hand on his shoulder. “What is it? Are you all right?”

“Yes,” said James. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of head pain is all.”

“How long have you had it?”

“It comes and goes,” said James, and waved his Uncle’s concern away. “Thank you, Uncle Jem. For allowing me to be here with her.”

“It is what is best for Cordelia,” said Jem. “She needs the familiar voices of the people she is closest to in the world. Your sister was in here not long ago. While I admire Lucie for the incredible talent that she possesses, someone should warn her about her overuse of adverbs.”

“Are you volunteering?” asked James.

Jem scarred mouth twitched. 

“Coward,” said James and turned to look at Cordelia. “Can she hear us talking? Even now?”

Jem nodded. “Yes, I believe she can.” Jem placed a hand on James’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “When I return to administer her medicine, I will bring you a vial for your headache. I’d also like to examine you tomorrow, to be sure it’s nothing serious.”

Jem left with a quick click of the door when it closed behind him. Now alone with Cordelia, James felt as awkward as he had when he was a fourteen year old school boy attempting to speak to his crush.

With a sigh, he moved the stool closer to Cordelia and the witchlight that flickered on the nightstand. Her fingers twitched against the bed cloth. He picked up the hand closest to him and held it in both of his. Her skin felt so soft. Had it always been so soft, he wondered. Memories of her finger tips grazing his skin in the orange light of the Whispering Room made his mouth run dry. Unsure what possessed him to do such a thing, he brought her hand up to his face and pressed his cheek into her cool palm.

“Daisy, my Daisy.” The name he’d given her didn’t seem to match her anymore, but there was a familiarity in it that he clung to. He hoped that maybe she could cling to it too. “If you’re able, will you grant me the smallest reassurance that you’re alright in there? When we were young, Math and I would communicate through small signals in class when our Instructor would be droning on about the history of runes, which I should have paid closer attention to, but my mind was otherwise detained on some personal dilemmas at the time… Forgive me, I’m rambling.” He brought her hand down.. “Squeeze my hand once if you can hear me?”

His eyes went to her face and watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He waited for the coveted pressure of her fingers gripping his with the desperation of a sinner languishing for forgiveness.

When it never came, he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “That’s all right. Your focus should only be on healing. I brought some books to share with you. Personal favorites from the library that I thought you might enjoy. Mostly classics, because I thought you might like something familiar and those damned contemporary authors and their quest for enlightenment; squandering on about transcendentalism.

“I thought we could start with…” When he reached for his father’s beloved copy of Great Expectation, he caught a vibrant red leather bound book with gold lettering on the spine that glistened in the light beside the bed.

Layla and Majnun

He picked up the copy and stroked the letters with curiosity. He recalled Sona and Alastair calling Cordelia, Layla, but never understood the reference; being so enamored with another woman and his personal throes, he didn’t think to ask.

Cordelia expressed a desire to read it together some day, but under the circumstances, he didn’t think that she would mind.

James kept Cordelia’s hand in his own. With his spectacles perched on the end of his nose, he propped the book against his thighs and opened the cover and found a small inscription on the left hand corner. It read:

Dearest Layla,

I hope this book brings you pleasant company during your travels. You have always wondered and asked why I call you by the name that this most divine tale is titled after, this may bring you some clarity. Please believe that my absence from your life is in no shape your fault and do not burden yourself with trying to understand it. Please know and forever keep in your mind, that I love you and your brother and your mother. Nothing is forever, my darling, we will be together again.

Be omide khodâ,

Bâbâ

The words were slightly smudged in some spots, as if water had dropped onto the ink. The pages were all wrinkled and torn in some places. For a moment, it felt to James like he was opening something sacred: a journal, a personalized letter, a love note, but he couldn’t help himself from turning the page. He turned until he found where one should always start a new story— at the very beginning.

As he read, he smiled to himself when he approached the part about when Layla and Majnun first met. It reminded him something of the first time that he saw Cordelia. When he really saw her. Away from the blinding manacle around his wrist. She was beautiful, but more than that, she was pure light. When he approached a passage, his tone slowed:

[His soul was a mirror for Layla’s radiance: how could he keep such reflections to himself? She shone in him like the sun at noon in a cloudless sky: how could such light be concealed? How could he turn away, even for a second, from the only thing that gave meaning to his life? Kais’* heart was out of step with his reason, and however hard he tried to hide his love for Layla, he failed miserably. Without her, he felt the arrows of reproach from a thousand bows; without her, the pain of separation cut into his heart like a knife.]

When he finished reading it aloud, he felt the faintest flutter from Cordelia’s hand against his, and when he looked up, her mouth was slightly open. The book nearly tumbled out of his lap as he leaned closer to her.

“Cordelia?” He picked up her hand in both of his again and tightened his hold, bringing it to his chest. “Cordelia, can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered back and forth underneath the hoods of her eyes.

“I’m here,” he whispered and climbed into the small space on the bed beside her. Carefully, he tucked her head underneath his chin and straightened the quilt around her again. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

                                          ___________________________

The cottage of Cecily and Gabriel Lightwood was a low, thatched building standing amid the fields in an arrangement of a perfectly tended garden. Ivy grew on the green-painted windows, and the eaves and the plastered walls. The front gate hung open, slightly distressed on its posts, and a bicycle lay carelessly toppled against the porch, where two large glazed pots, of the most intense blue, foamed with flowers in hues of Mediterranean pink, orange, and red. The cottage should have inspired only disdain for its tumbledown air, but instead Grace Blackthorn, who was raised to despise her adopted uncle and aunt, found it strangely romantic.

From the rough stones of a back hall, she emerged into the kitchen where a most egregious ruckus was coming. Since arriving at the Lightwood cottage, she’d spent most of her time either in the garden reading or in the kitchen talking to the housemaid who seemed to be the most interesting individual in the house and who didn’t seem to mind Grace’s presence especially after recent truths had risen to the surface like bloated dead fish. The kitchen was always orderly. On a wooden table in the center, a tea urn hissed above its small burner, a stack of old blue and white china teacups waited to be filled. A cake stand held an assortment of the usual small sandwiches and the plain rock cakes that were popular now. Only today, atop the counter, kneeled someone in tweed trousers, one leg bent on the counter and the other outstretched for balance as they reached for something in the cupboards above. She quickly recognized him as the young, illusive Christopher Lightwood.

She leaned her shoulder against the door frame and crossed her arms over her chest.

Since her arrival at the Lightwood’s, she’d rarely seen Christopher. They’d pass each other in the hallways or sit across from each other at meals, but he would be scribbling in a notebook, his face covered in some type of grime. She never attempted a conversation with him considering her relationship with his friend and cousin James. She had the impression that he didn’t care for her so much.

She could hear him whispering to himself. “Where are the damn tongs?”

“Bottom drawer,” said Grace, “to the left.”

There was a terrible clamber as Christopher looked over his shoulder at Grace, resulting in his leg slipping off of the counter. He reached for a ceramic bowl for stability but ended up taking the kitchen utensil down with him. She could not prevent a cry of fear as he hit his back upon the impact.

“Are you all right?” she cried as she ran around the wooden table. “I’m terribly sorry.”

His glasses were askew, as were the dark brown tendrils of hair that mirrored his father’s, fringed at the ends as if burnt. “Fine,” said Christopher after shaking ceramic out of his hair. “I’m fine.”

“Allow me to help you,” she said. Christopher, she had noticed, had the kindest eyes out of all of his friends. She reached her gloved hand out to him.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” said Christopher, not unkindly, but rather sheepishly. He grabbed a hold of the table’s edge and hoisted himself back to his feet. He brushed his hands off on his trousers, but seemed otherwise unscathed. “Sorry if I disturbed you. I was looking for the—“

“Tongs?” Grace pointed to the drawer by Christopher’s left hip. “They’re in the top drawer. And there is no need to apologize. I was the one who startled you.”

“Not at all.” He turned and opened the kitchen drawer, moved things around a bit, and finally retrieved the tongs from the far back. “A-ha!” He clapped them together several times. “Wonderful. Thank you. Our housemaid likes to hide them from me.”

“Why is that?”

“Possibly because I’ve melted the last several,” he said, and though she could not detect any note of humor, she couldn’t help but laugh into the back of her gloved hand. Christopher looked at her perplexed, his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

“Melted them?” she asked. “How on earth did you manage something like that?”

He examined the tongs in his hand. “Uh, it’s difficult to describe.”

“Could you show me?” she asked, shocked by her own bravery, or her desperation to escape her lonely isolation. “I’ve heard so much about your experiments and I really admired your discovery of the cure for demon poisoning.”

“I conduct most of my experiments in my Uncle Henry’s basement,” he said. “He’s not really my uncle, but I’m close enough to Matthew that he might as well be. I have a few experiments in my bedroom, but I don’t think that it would be appropriate for us to be alone in that regard.”

Grace hesitated, but there was no hint of condescension in Christopher’s tone, and his blunt face showed worry in a single vertical crease between his eyes. He was trying to treat her well. She understood that in the past couple of months, or years, she had lost some trust in how people would treat her. She blinked her eyes and nodded once without a word.

“Of course,” she said. “I’m embarrassed for suggesting it.”

“That’s quite all right,” he said, as he examined the tongs. “You must be terribly bored here.”

She was, but she felt it rude to say it. “It was very kind of your parents to allow me to stay in their home considering the grief my dear mother has brought to them.”

“Lucky for you my mother does not share my father’s grudges.” He meant it in fun, but he noticed the dubious look on her face. As she ran her finger through a spilt pile of flour on the counter, he wondered how all of the time he could have mistaken Grace for being so cold and plain when she looked saddened and lost. “Perhaps you could help me with something.”

Her gray eyes lit with curiosity. “With what?”

“I need an assistant to conduct one of my experiments,” said Christopher. “Since Thomas is spending time with his family after their recent loss and the four of us are not meant to be spending too much time together as punishment, but perhaps we can conduct some sort of arrangement for you to be my assistant of sorts. If it’s not too forward to ask.”

Grace fought to keep her emotions respectful, but inside she felt the quick bubble of anticipation that she had not felt in some time swell in her stomach. “As long as I wouldn’t be in the way and your comrades wouldn’t mind us spending the time together.”

“There’s no need for them to know,” said Christopher, straightening his glasses up higher on his nose making his eyes appear abnormally large. “Besides, they don’t seem to take much interest in my experiments anyway. Thomas is with his family. Matthew is under Charles’s watchful eyes, and James is—“ Christopher flushed.

“Is what?” she asked.

She already suspected that they all knew the truth behind the bracelet that she had given to James, but no one cared to ask for her side of the story. Why she did what she did? It was probably for the best. She wasn’t entirely sure she could tell them the truth of it anyway.

“James is with Cordelia.”

“It’s all right.” She pressed her lips together, and began to wonder if it was a mistake to have entered a conversation with him. “What I did was terrible and I won’t pretend to see it otherwise. I understand if you are disinclined to trust me.”

“Can I ask how you did it?” he asked. “How did you enchant the bracelet?”

The question took her off guard. Most people that have approached her with the question asked her why she felt the need to do it. James Herondale was more than inclined to give her his affections on his own; there was no need for an enchanted bracelet. Her answer was often some variation of the same lie.

“I would prefer it if you didn’t ask me that question,” she said. “Only because I cannot answer it. But would it help to know that it wasn’t me who did it?”

“It would,” said Christopher. “It does.

Grace folded her hands in front of her and felt a strange weight removed from her shoulders; grateful that while her truth remained hidden, some of it could be shared with someone else. And while she didn’t believe herself to be entirely innocent, there was some relief in not being entirely guilty either.

The housemaid entered through the swinging doors from the servant’s quarters, humming a Irish melody, which was cut short when she found the two of them in the kitchen. Her cheeks flushed as her watery eyes drifted down to the tongs in Christopher’s hands.

She switched her basket of fresh veggies over to her other hip. “Are you doing the cooking for supper tonight, boy, or are you just polishing the silver again?” she asked. “Because I know you’re not taking my good pair of tongs to use for your little experiments.”

(Author’s notes: Hello! Thank you for reading. I appreciate each and every one of you for indulging me through this quarantine while I pine and wait for Chain of Iron to be released. So a few things, I think everyone knew the book James reads to Cordelia would be Layla and Majnun... it would have been insulting if it was anything else. If you’re not familiar with the story (here is a link if you want to check out a preview), Majnun’s name at the beginning of the story is Kais. SPOILER: when Layla and Kais separate, he becomes mad with sadness and the town people call him Majnun, which means ‘madman’, so that’s why in the passage he is referred to as Kais... in case you were wondering. It’s such a beautiful story. I highly recommend everyone to read it. It gives me strong Romeo and Juliet vibes. There are so many variations of the story, but I really liked this one, and I believe it’s mostly accurate to the original source-- correct me if I’m wrong.

Also, I’m not sure where that Christopher and Grace scene came from. I wanted to experiment with their characters in a friendly way and I wasn’t mad at it, so I thought I’d share. There is a purpose for it in the story. I hope you enjoyed it. As always, if you liked it, please give it a heart, give me a follow, pop in with some comments about what you liked and even what you didn’t. I really appreciate you all. Next update will be Sunday, 7/26. Cordelia is waking up and things are about to get messy.)

[cristinablackthornkingson]

Shadowhunters Short Story #69 Brothers are what best friends can never be.

Crossposted to my AO3, link in my bio.

It is a stormy March evening in Devon, 2013, when 15 year old Kit Herondale is pulled from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen.

Kit lifts his head from where he was resting it against the wall his chair is against, and opens his eyes to see a tired but joyous looking Jem standing a few feet away from him, smiling ear to ear.

“Jem.” Kit scrambles to sit up, setting his mug down on the table beside him. “I-Is everything okay? Are Tessa and the baby okay?” He anxiously asks. Tessa went into labor about 6 hours ago, and Kit hasn’t heard much from she or Jem since. They came into the kitchen a couple of hours ago, with Magnus, so Tessa could get some herbal tea that she said is meant to help labor move faster and be less painful, but since then he hasn’t heard anything. 

“Yes everything is absolutely fine, would you like to come meet your sister?” Jem asks in a tone of joy, still beaming with delight. He is so utterly in love with his baby girl, it almost hurts. 

Kit nods eagerly, having been looking forward to this moment for almost nine months. 

Jem gestures for Kit to follow him. As they walk, Jem turns to Kit with a look of confusion on his face. 

“Oh yes I meant to ask you, who were you talking to earlier? Just after Tess, Magnus and I left the kitchen to go upstairs so Tessa could rest.” He asks, remembering hearing Kit’s voice, low and quiet in the kitchen, while Jem helped Tessa up the stairs. 

Kit blanches, remembering the conversation he had with Livvy’s ghost, just hours ago. He could tell Jem the truth, but then he’d probably worry and feel like he has to contact Emma to check that everything is okay, and that would distract him from Tessa and the baby.

“Oh um, no one important, I was on the phone with someone I went to school with, we’re not close or anything, just... called them because I was bored.” Kit shrugs, easily coming up with a lie, that seems to satisfy Jem. 

“Oh, well I’m glad to hear you have friends and are talking to them!” 

A few seconds later Jem leads him into the main bedroom, Jem and Tessa’s room. Jem lets Kit step ahead of him, while he closes the door.

The first thing Kit notices is how nice and warm and cozy the room is, thanks to the fireplace against the wall across from the bed, that’s been lit. The second thing he notices, is Tessa sitting propped up in bed with a mountain of pillows behind her, her hair is disheveled and thrown into a messy bun at the back of her head. She’s wearing a dusty pink hospital gown, that is open at the top, showing a tiny little body curled up against Tessa’s chest, wearing only a diaper and a hat, with a blanket covering her back. Peeking out from the little hat are wisps of curling dark hair. 

When she hears the door close, Tessa looks up and her face lights up when she sees Kit and Jem, a warm smile coming across her face. 

“Hi sweetheart.” Tessa quietly says in a hoarse voice. “I missed you, come meet your baby sister.” 

Carefully, Kit walks the few feet to the bed and lowers himself into a chair by Tessa’s side.

“Hold your arms out, one under the other like you’re making a cradle with your arms.” Tessa calmly says. It takes a few minutes of fumbling and help from Tessa, but soon Kit gets his arms in the right position. Tessa carefully lifts the baby out from inside her gown, wrapping the blanket around her expertly, before carefully laying her in Kit’s arms. 

The minute the baby is in his arms, Kit feels an unexplainable overwhelming rush of love, he already loved her before she was born, but looking at her now it’s like falling in love with her all over again. He chokes back tears as his eyes well up and his throat tightens. 

“Hi.” He quietly says in a tight voice. “Hi baby sister, I love you.” He briefly looks up from the baby’s face and asks “What’s her name?” 

Jem and Tessa share a smile, and Jem slips his hand into hers. 

“Wilhelmina Yiqiang Ke Carstairs, Mina for short.” Tessa softly says.

“What does Yiqaing mean?” Kit curiously asks, unfamiliar with Mandarin. 

“It means ‘Remembrance’ we chose it for those we’ve lost but will always remember, Will, Lucie, Jamie, Rosemary.” Jem gently says, hoping that this won’t upset Kit in anyway.

“I....” Kit trails off, unsure of how to feel about his baby sister in part being named for his mother, who he has absolutely no memories of. When he thinks about it though, he realizes it’s a beautiful gesture and a perfect way to make sure his mom is never forgotten. “I think she would have liked that.” He finishes, earning warm smiles from Jem and Tessa. 

“We think so too, love, we think so too.”

Kit looks back down at his baby sister, Mina, who has now blinked her eyes open to reveal big dark brown eyes just like Jem. She and Kit stare at eachother in fascination for a few seconds, before Mina wriggles her little arm free from her blankets and reaches up to grab onto Kit’s thumb, making him laugh and have to wipe at tears of joy. 

��It’s like she’s holding my hand.” He laughs, liking the idea of Mina feeling safe with him and wanting to hold his hand. He’ll be a great big brother to her, and always protect her and keep her safe. 

“Of course she is, she’s a very clever young lady and knows already just what a fantastic big brother she has.” Tessa says in a warm tone, making Kit’s heart flutter with delight. 

Kit holds Mina for a few more minutes, just looking at her in awe, taking in everything about her. Everything is totally calm and peaceful in the room, until Mina starts to fuss which in seconds turns into full on wails, breaking Kit’s heart right in two and making him panic. 

“Oh no! Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make her cry, I’m sorry!” Kit says in an alarmed and panicked tone, desperately trying to sush Mina and calm her with light bouncing. 

“It's alright love.” Tessa calmly says, placing a calming hand on Kit’s arm. “You didn’t do anything wrong she’s just hungry, here let me take her.” Tessa reaches over and carefully lifts Mina into her own arms. She single handedly and quickly adjusts her gown before guiding Mina to her chest, helping her to latch on.

As Tessa nurses Mina, Kit flushes and awkwardly tries to find somewhere to look. He has nothing against breastfeeding of course, he doesn’t care if someone does it in front of him, but it’s a bit different when it’s Tessa, the woman who took him in and promised to love and raise him for the rest of his life, the only mother he has. 

Jem immediately notices how embarrassed and awkward Kit feels and decides to intervene. 

“Kit.” He says. “Do you want to join me downstairs for dinner? Magnus left enough food for us for the next week or so.” Kit immediately nods. 

“Yes please!”

“Alright let's go, see you later my loves.” Jem softly says, stroking Mina’s hair and giving Tessa a quick peck on the lips. 

“See you later.” Tessa replies, watching fondly as Jem and Kit leave the room, Jem telling Kit awful dad jokes and making him laugh, which makes Tessa’s heart lift. Once the boys are gone, she looks back down at Mina and smiles softly “We’re very lucky to have them Mina, aren’t we?” 

The next day, at around 10:00 A.M. there is a light knock at Tessa and Jem’s bedroom door. 

“Come in!” Jem calls, keeping a careful eye on Church, who has cautiously approached Mina, lying in Tessa’s arms, and is clearly trying to decide what he thinks of the new baby.

The door opens and Kit steps in, looking sheepish. 

“Hello love.” Tessa beams, delighted to see Kit. 

“Everything okay son?” Jem asks in a worried tone, afraid that maybe something is wrong with Kit. 

“Oh yeah everything’s fine I just....” Kit clears his throat. “I um... I was just wondering if you need any help with Mina or anything, I’m not doing anything so... I thought I’d come see if you need some help.” He nervously tells them, afraid that they’ll say no and send him off to be on his own all day while they bond with Mina. He really wants to spend some time with Jem, Tessa and Mina but will they want to spend time with him?

“That would be lovely Kit, thank you.” Jem warmly says. Kit’s shoulders sag in relief and he starts to relax again.

“You can come over here and hold Mina for a while if you like, I’m going to have my first postpartum shower which can take anywhere from 10 minutes to about an hour.” Tessa lightly says, remembering her first postpartum baths after James and Lucie were born. She had been terrified of getting out of bed at all after James was born, nevermind bathing, but Jem was waiting right outside if she needed any medical assistance and Will was with her, while Charlotte and Henry watched Jamie.

Kit laughs as he takes a seat on the bed next to Tessa, and she lowers Mina into his arms when he is settled back against the pillows. 

“Did it hurt?” Kit curiously asks, looking up at Tessa. 

“Giving birth?” She asks. Kit nods. “It did, like hell, all 3 times, but it’s more than worth it, just like what we went through to find you and going through the adoption process is worth it, to have my babies.” Tessa fondly says, brushing Kit’s hair out of his eyes.

Shortly after he moved to Devon with Tessa and Jem, they approached him about legally adopting him, assuring him he can keep his surname and doesn’t have to take the name Carstairs if he doesn’t want to, but they would very much like to legally and officially adopt him. Kit thought about it for a while before agreeing, the process is long and stressful and still not fully complete, but it’s more than worth it to Tessa and Jem, to have their Kit. 

Kit smiles and blushes and Tessa kisses his cheek before ducking to kiss Mina on the cheek too. “I love you.” 

Tessa then stands up, grabs her towel, bathrobe and toiletries bag and heads into the ensuite bathroom for her shower. 

“I was looking through social media yesterday, after you set me up on Facebook so I can stay in touch with Emma easier. I saw this group on there for new fathers, and decided to join, thinking it would be full of advice and tips on how to care for baby and handle your anxieties and take care of your partner if you have one, stuff like that. Instead I found the most awful people complaining about their wives and babies, mostly talking about how seeing their wife give birth and seeing her postpartum has totally turned them off and they feel cheated, one phrase I saw over and over again was ‘It’s like watching your favorite pub burn down’.

I just cannot believe how disrespectful and horrendous these men are, their wives have just gone through 9 months of pregnancy followed by labroing and giving birth, and all they can do is whine and complain that 2 weeks postpartum she hasn’t lost the weight she gained and is still wearing pajamas or comfy clothes most days.

I don’t understand it, I delivered James, I delivered Lucie and I delivered Mina, I was Tessa’s primary caregiver when she was pregnant with James and when she was pregnant with Lucie, I’ve been by her side every second of this pregnancy and I’ve seen her postpartum 3 times now, and to me she always seems even more glorious and beautiful after having a baby, because she’s just gone through so, so much to bring a whole new life into this world, she’s just grown an entire other person, she’s like a goddess. 

I don’t understand it, how can anyone say those things about their wives? I couldn’t love Tessa more, whether she’s pregnant or not, whether she’s just had a baby or not. I just... I don’t understand it.” 

Kit is totally unsure of what to say after Jem finishes talking. He totally agrees with him, that the way some men talk about their wives after she’s given birth is absolutely disgusting, but he doesn’t know what to say to Jem. 

“I... uh... I agree?” He tries, not wanting to just ignore Jem. Jem turns to him and smiles softly, before reaching over and ruffling his hair affectionately. 

“Sorry Kit, I didn’t mean to rant to you, it’s just when I was young, when someone had just given birth, they took weeks, even months, to bond with the baby and heal from the birth, there were no expectations to ‘bounce back’ or anything, I’m just still trying to adjust to modern life and modern people. But at least I have you eh? You keep me up to date.”  

“I try, it’s my life mission to get you to stop saying ‘Order it offline’.” Kit grins. Jem chuckles. 

“You’re a good boy my Kit, I’m so glad you’re here with us.”

About 20 minutes later Tessa comes out of the bathroom in a clean pair of pyjamas, her yellow bathrobe thrown on over her pink pajamas, and her wait hair tied into a bun at the back of her head. 

“You made it!” Kit cheers, grinning at Tessa as she sits next to him on the bed. She grins and kisses his cheek. 

“That I did, and now it’s miss Mina’s turn to get changed, your Uncle Magnus gave us the most adorable clothes for you Mina, and I can’t wait to see you in them.” Tessa coos, taking Mina as Kit carefully passes her to her, before laying her down on the bed, just in front of her.

From the basket on the floor beside her, Tessa takes out a plain pink baby-gro/onsie, that has a hood, and pockets at the front. 

“That’s pretty tame for Magnus’ standards.” Kit notes. 

“I know, I think Alec picked this one out and it’s just so adorable!” Tesa exclaims, beginning to unbutton the yellow onsie with pink flowers that Mina is currently wearing. 

Kit watches in fascination as Tessa carefully and expertly slips Mina’s tiny arms out of her onsie and does the same with her legs. He can’t help but be fascinated by how small and tiny and delicate Mina is. She’s the smallest person he’s ever met, and so fragile too, he would be terrified if he were in Tessa’s position.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll accidentally hurt her or break her, because she’s so small and delicate?” Kit asks Tessa, who laughs lightly as she starts to put the new onsie on Mina.

“I was when I had Jamie, Will and I both, but after having James and then Lucie and then helping out with my grandchildren and many, many other little ones, I’ve become an expert in handling delicate little babies.” Tessa explains. She then lifts a freshly dressed Mina up (once again shocking Kit with her confidence) and holds her so they’re face to face. Tessa’s smile grows and she leans in to kiss Mina’s cheek. “There we go, pretty baby! The sweetest, cutest baby in the world, huh?” 

“You should take a family photo with the kids Tess, the same way you took a photo of you and Jamie after he was born, and then you Jamie and Lucie after Lucie was born.” Jem suggests, knowing how much having pictures to remember these moments by, means a lot to Tessa.

“Oh yes that sounds like a lovely idea! Is it okay with you, Kit?” Tessa asks, laying a hand on his arm. Kit finds it kind of hard to believe that Tessa wants to take a picture with him, he still finds it hard to believe that she loves him as if he’s her own, and Jem does too, but he’s not about to say no.

“Sure, sounds like a good idea.” Kit agrees.

A few minutes later, after a bit of fussing from Mina, Jem snaps a series of pictures of Tessa, Kit and Mina. In the picture Tessa is sitting up in bed with Mina cradled in one arm, and the other around Kit, who is leaning into her and smiling shyly. It’s definitely one of Jem’s favorite pictures.

“It’s perfect.” Tessa says when Jem shows her the photo. “We’ll get it framed and hung up beside the pictures of me and Lucie and Jamie, as soon as we can.” 

“Sounds perfect.” Jem agrees. “I better go make a start on breakfast, I’ll bring you up a tray of course, love. Kit would you like to stay in here and have breakfast with us?” Jem asks. Kit nods, there’s nothing he’d love more, actually. 

“Yes please.” He says, settling back against the pillows, beside Tessa and Mina, feeling truly safe, and loved and happy for one of the first times in his life.

*1 YEAR LATER* 

It is a hot and humid day in March of 2014, when Jem, Tessa, Kit and Mina step out of the portal and onto the streets of Shanghai, just outside the Ke House, where they will be staying for the duration of their first family vacation. 

They’ve been planning this trip since Mina was 6 months old, and agreed that the best time to come would be just after Mina’s first birthday, she would be able to handle the heat and humidity better now as a one year old, than she would have done as a much smaller baby, and Kit is truly settled and content with them now and feels comfortable enough to go on vacation. 

“Is this where you lived before you moved to London, dad?” Kit curiously asks, having taken to calling Jem and Tessa mom and dad over the last few months, which they both love. 

“For a year or so, I was born here, lived here till I was about 1 and then my parents were put in charge of running the Institute which is where I lived until I went to London.” Jem informs him. 

“Cool.” Kit says, looking up at the building in front of him, in awe. 

“Come on, let's go find our rooms and get settled in, then I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Jem says, as Tessa sets a wriggling Mina down. 

“Mina.” Kit says with a sly grin. “Wanna race?” Mina has been walking since she was 9 months old, and now loves to run everywhere, especially when she gets to race Kit who of course always lets her win. 

“Uh-hu!” Mina nods enthusiastically. 

“Okay come on let's go, or I’m gonna get the biggest room!” Kit declares, taking off at a slow pace so that Mina can easily pass him by.

Jem chuckles and kisses Tessa’s cheek before going ahead of Kit to lead the way. 

As Jem shows Kit and Mina where they’ll be staying, Tessa goes ahead to her and Jem’s room, the same room they always stay in when they visit here. 

One of the first things she does is take one of her bags into the bathroom to unpack her toiletries. When she opens the bag, the first thing she sees is the pink box containing the pregnancy test she packed. 

For the last few weeks she’s been feeling sick and tired all the time, and has been having some issues with her powers, all the symptoms she had when pregnant with Mina. She had meant to take a test before they came to Shanghai, but she was so busy with Mina’s first birthday she totally forgot, until this morning when she was packing the last bits and pieces and found the pregnancy test she had bought a few weeks ago but never taken, so she decided to throw into the bag and take it here in Shanghai. 

Tessa nervously bites her lip and looks over her shoulder to make sure Jem or anyone isn’t nearby. When she’s satisfied she’s alone, she closes the door, opens the pregnancy test and takes the few minutes required, to take the pregnancy test. 

Three minutes later her phone beeps to let her know it’s time to look at the test, and so on shaky legs she pushes herself up from her seat on the edge of the bathtub, and walks over to the sink. She takes a deep breath before picking the test up and looking it. 

‘YES+’

Tessa can’t help but let out a stifled sob of delight, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. She and Jem weren’t trying, but they weren’t trying to prevent a pregnancy either, they decided to leave it up to nature, they agreed they would be thrilled if they had another baby now, but would also be okay with not having another one just yet. 

Tessa quickly finds Jem standing outside the room that’s going to be Kit’s, supervising he and Mina as they unpack (well more like Kit occasionally takes something out of his suitcase, then gets distracted by Mina and doesn’t unpack anything else for 20 minutes.) 

“How are you 3 getting on?” Tessa asks Jem, coming up to stand at his side. 

“Not too bad, though I think I might have to seperate the kids in order to get anything done, they distract eachother.” Jem laughs, his heart swelling with love as he watches Kit laughing while carrying Mina around on his back. He then turns to smile at Tessa and softly says “I can’t believe how amazing the last year has been, I couldn’t have asked for a better first year of fatherhood, I’ve loved every second.”

Tessa grins knowingly. 

“Well that’s good.” She says, holding up the positive pregnancy test for Jem to see. “Because in about 8 months, we get to do it all again.” 

[beyondtheciouds]

.20.

A dream. It was. Wasn't it?

Sweat trickles and tickles like the blood dripping down the handle of her axe. It pools into her lap, spreading across her nightgown like a slow disease.

Lucie's knees are drawn up to her chest; the nightgown ripped and torn at the collar and shoulders where hands were grabbing her. The gold locket clings to her skin and is smeared with crimson; the blood of thorns. The gold still hangs around her neck like a noose, tying her to this awful, awful world.

Her throat feels tight; the ghost of his hands strangling her even though he is dead. She can't speak, her actions are horrifying her practical side.

Lucie stands, unable to make sense of her unspoken crime. Her hair is knotted and she absently tugs on it, commanding herself to use logic.

Who did I kill? Lucie thinks, but can't remember. Her hand aches, the knuckles bone white and swelling beneath the veil of blood. Her chest heaves; deep breaths in, shallow exhales as her heart pounds in her ears. Panic. Blue eyes close and then open wide.

What happened?

Jesse's body is hazardly spread out on the ground like a broken doll. Pools of blood glisten like water beneath him in the solitary glimpse of the moon as it peaks out behind the trees. His arms and hands are covered in defensive wounds; cuts and scratches deep enough to introduce bone to the outside world. His bare torso is open to the insects, buzzing at her feet. A feast for the wildlife, his body deceased for the second time.

Tatiana appears like a puff of smoke. The woman claimes no remastered remorse as she slashes Lucie without warning.

Lucie tries to move forward out of her reach, but it is too late. Tatiana is already dragging her blade clean and clear across Lucie's side.

For a long, agonizing minute Lucie believes she is sobbing, not bleeding.

Double screams pierce the air as Lucie drops to the ground like a rock. She is quickly losing consciousness. Bright blood flows like water from the glistening gash in her right side and down her legs like its her monthly time.

Sickened with the shock and alive because of adrenaline, Lucie jolts awake. She drops her weapon and creeps on her hands and knees on the ground to get out of the smokey air.

The inferno around her is still burning.

Flesh tears on her knees and elbows split and scrape against the rockiness of the terrain. Lucie wants to stop, but she ignores the intense pain and keeps pulling herself until she is breathless.

Hiding behind a tree, out of Tatiana's sight, Lucie's hands cover the oozing wound on a secondary instinct. She rolls onto her back, blue eyes dazed, gazing into the smoke engulfed sky thinking of her mother.

Above her, the murder collects and calls themselves to order. The court settles unsettlingly in the crooked branches of the tilted trees.

Six. Six. Six.

Three branches. Three murders.

Lucie coughs, her breathing shallower. I am the first, she thinks as her eyelids get heavy and her breathing slows. Her blank eyes are staring at the winged spectators to her death. She desperately cries out for her brother in-between coughing fits.

Tatiana laughs wickedly in the distance and squares herself away in the shadows without glancing at the mutilated body of her son.

Beady eyes look conspiratorially at Lucie as she rolls onto her stomach. She drags herself forward, determined to find the real Jesse.

All Lucie can do is think of the blood moon as she stops, nearly dead in tracks. As if she has a tracking rune, her eyes catch movement in the shadows. Nate whirls, blue eyes discolored as he watches Lucie as she watches him. A square off.

Suddenly he vanishes in a cloud of incense singed smoke like a bad magic act.

Lucie can't move.

Frozen, she looses consciousness for the third time.

****

A damp cloth rubs the skin between her closed eyes; the unexpected gesture causing her mind to spin with shooting pain. Lucie struggles to stay connected, but it is only seconds before she blacks out, thinking of that black-haired boy on the ground again.

Matthew insistantly presses the damp cloth to her forehead; his hand careful and confident as it dabs her hot skin. His face is a hollowed place that is set up to dissuade polite conversation. His typical grassy green eyes are dark and unusually strained; the grimness in his wild irises apparent.

Matthew's work of art mouth is pressed into an intense line. Several bruises color the rose flush of his cheeks in a rainbow of yellow, purple and green.

Melancholy, Matthew sighs, his free hand on the bed beside her. His finger twitch and move; the light reflects off the numerous rings like shiny kisses. Casually, he glances at the robed figure standing beside the bedside. The Silent Brother's old, bleached hands have Lucie's hand in his. Two of his fingers are lightly pressed to the soft spot on the inside of her wrist.

Matthew frowns, wringing out the wrinkled cloth in the basin on the bedside table. The fire in the fireplace reflectes his mood; the flames shifting high to low like in a far away wind. He dips the cloth in another basin filled with warm water and looks over at Jem who is examining the deep slice on Lucie's side, just under her ribs. Mmm. Lucky.

"Will she be alright?" Matthew asks. He looks dubious as James draws another rune on Lucie's leg with his stele.

Cordelia glances around Matthew's messy bedroom in his flat. Clothes are strewn on chairs and on the floor. Poetry books and paintings were tossed in corners among other things. Dishes are piled like pillows on the numerous small tables and fabric chairs. "Maybe I should do that and you should clean up."

Matthew grunts his disapproval. He isn't moving.

Cordelia sighs, moving the to chaise lounge.

Lucie hears a murmur calling to her. The voice is shaking her. It is soft and sweet in nature but indecipherable in tone. The voice is familiar in her head, one she has known since before birth. Please Lucie. Wake up.

Her body is badly dehydrated and burned-out. Her limbs are limp like a doll's; held by both familar and unfamilar hands with their fingers stiff and cold like the dead.

Lucie's mind; troubled by weakness relents. Her subconscious has trapped all her thoughts in a cave unaccounted for in the space of time. Memories fall adrift like snowflakes against the thick, London fogged windows of the present.

What was yesterday is now today.

Tense shadows are tossing and turning all around her. Mistakes cloud her vision closely behind the lids of her eyes.

The heat of a hot stele burning runes into her flesh briefly awakens her; the scent of leathery licorice drowning the stench of burnt flesh.

James frowns and sits back. He glances at Jem expectant of a prognosis. Lucie doesn't open her eyes or move. "Uncle Jem?"

We are not involved anymore than we already are, James. Jem says, his voice stern. The other Silent Brother doesn't agree or disagree.

Familiar voices invade the room; chaos amid peace like unwanted visitors. Sleep controls her body and the lullaby of bleak conversation threatens to lull her sleep.

A jumble of sounds that make no sense briefly shifts her attention to the bed, where Matthew sits beside her. Something to focus on, to stay awake. To listen. Pay attention Lucie.

Lucie absently tugs the sheets. She knows without looking they are Egyptian cotton; the color sunset crimson. Made soft as silk and 600 thread count fine.

The warm blankets go against her and soothe her like a secret skin; aloe against her battered body. Despite her efforts, Lucie falls into a deep sleep.

Anna sighs, her expression sad as she sips her cup of gin. Her blue eyes are like thick glass as she watches Kit over the rim. He is pacing unsteadily back and forth, clearly drunk.

Anna stares at him with the context of concern on her face only an older sister is able to have. "I so do not appreciate being the oldest one."

Kit stops and turns to his sister. A lopsided grin expands his mouth. "But that makes you the wisest."

Anna rolls her eyes and Kit resumes pacing.

Thomas frowns at Anna, his expression pensive as he asks the question on everyone's mind.

"What should we do?"

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

Did Eddie kill his mum!? If he did, good for him. Also I need a part 2 to the snow prompt I beg of u 🥺

you asked and I delivered. This is part two to this, and set from Eddie’s point of view. 

trigger warning: mentions of conversion therapy

* * * * *

Eddie was quiet on the ride to the station, his eyes glancing out the window at the houses and trees covered in snow. Tears built up in his eyes, but he refused to break down, there was no way he was breaking down in front of the officers. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was a repeat of the events that had taken place that night, all leading up to the look of horror on Richie’s face as he was dragged away.

He wondered how long he’d get in prison for what happened. Ten years? Twenty? LIfe? His mother was dead now, all because of him, all because he couldn’t do as he was told. Eddie’s eyes moved from the window to his arms, which were slowly beginning to bruise, the scratches turning a harsh red colour.

The car suddenly came to a stop, and the officers stepped out, opening the door to pull Eddie out by his cuffed hands. They lead him into the station and through a set of double doors into a pale grey room with a single table and two chairs. It didn’t take a genius to know that this was an interrogation room, and that he was about to be questioned on what happened in the house, less than an hour ago.

“Take a seat, Mr Kasbrak. Someone will be with you shortly.” One of the officers stated as he sat Eddie down in the chair, like he wasn’t capable of doing it himself. Maybe he wasn’t. A thousand thoughts were swirling around in his head, and before the officer could leave the room, Eddie turned around to catch his attention.

“L-Lawyer…” Eddie croaked out, his eyes widening at the sound of his own voice. It hadn’t sounded like that earlier when he had spoken to Richie, but then again the adrenaline was starting to wear off and the pain was beginning to settle in. Carefully, Eddie lifted his hand to his throat, tears springing into his eyes at the pain. “I- I want a- a lawyer.”

The officer just nodded, leaving the room and slamming the door closed. The ringing echoed in Eddie’s ears and he moved his hands from his throat to cover them up, resting his head on the table in front of him. As he closed his eyes, he let his mind take him back to the beginning of the night, to before everything fell to shit.

“Oh come on Eds, are you sure you don’t want to come to the arcade with Bill and me? It’ll be fun! I’ll even let you win a few games.” Eddie rolled his eyes as Richie practically begged him down the line to hang out with them. Of course, Eddie wouldn’t usually pass up on a chance to get out of the house and spend time with his boyfriend, but his mother had been…acting stranger that day and he didn’t think sneaking out of his window would work that night.

“I can’t,” Eddie sighed eventually. “I have…stuff I need to do.” The lie was pathetic, and Eddie knew Richie would know he was making excuses, he just hoped for once that Richie would let it go. He’d see him the next day anyway, as they had all planned to hang out at the clubhouse. “I’ll see you tomorrow though. I promise.”

He could hear the hesitation in Richie’s sigh, but he eventually caved and they said their goodbyes. A few moments later, his mother called him from downstairs. The tone of her voice was harsh, and Eddie felt a sick feeling rise in his stomach, yet he followed her orders and went down the stairs.

The rest of the evening passed by tensely, with Eddie sitting on the couch and his mother sitting on her armchair, staring aimlessly at the screen. Once her show was done, she flicked off the TV and turned so she was facing Eddie, only making his anxiety grow. “Eddie-bear. When were you going to tell me about you and that dirty boy? When were you going to confess that you are defying god and doing ungodly things with that boy?”

Eddie froze up and he looked at his mother with a shocked expression. There was no way she could have known, he was being so careful! Even after she had installed the camera in the hallway, which Eddie knew was to make sure he wasn’t sneaking out at night, he was still careful. “Ma-”

“You are not to see him again, and first thing tomorrow I am taking you to a confessional and we’re going to get you cured.” His mother spoke with no emotion in her voice and Eddie’s heart dropped, tears springing into his eyes. “Don’t start crying, Edward. You did this to yourself.” Within a few seconds, his mother was off the chair and looming over him, wrapping her chubby hand around his wrist, squeezing tight. “No son of mine is going to be the local faggot.”

“Ma- ma you’re hurting me,” Eddie whimpered, tugging his hand to try and get out of her grip, but it only tightened, nails digging into his skin. “Ma, let me go!”

She stared down at him, nothing but hatred in her eyes and for the first time in years, Eddie felt genuine fear around her. ”You are a dirty boy Eddie, and you need to be punished. You need to see that it’s wrong.” She hissed, moving her other hand to attempt to restrain Eddie further. Before she could, Eddie jerked his hand away, removing her grip and he scrambled over the sofa and up the stairs,

He could hear his mother screaming, her feet thundering on the floorboards as she followed him and then banging on his door once he’d slammed and locked it. His heart was racing, tears streaming down his cheeks as  he looked down at his arm, scratched and bleeding. Fuck, his mother had gone insane and he needed to get out of there before she did something terrible.

Quickly, Eddie shoved as many necessary items into an overnight bag and pulled it over his shoulder. He’d go to Richie’s, he was always welcome there, and now that he was eighteen his mother couldn’t say it was kidnapping as he made his own choice. He pulled up his window and was just about to jump when the door opened and a hand was digging into his scalp, pulling him back from the window and towards the door.

“You really do not want to know what I’m capable of Edward,” his mother hissed as she dragged him from his room into the hallway and onto his feet. “Why did you have to go and be such a bad boy? Why couldn’t you have stayed as my precious Eddie-Bear and married a church girl just like I wanted? Why did you have to be dirty Eddie?”

Eddie shook his head, trying to get out of her grip, but she was strong in her anger. “I-I’m not your little boy anymore! I haven’t been for a while! I’m in love with Richie and there is nothing you can do to stop that! No conversion therapy is going to change the fact that I’m gay and you need to accept it!”

At his words, her eyes darkened just a little and Eddie thought that he had finally gotten through to her, that she would finally just accept it and let him go. What he didn’t expect was for her to move her hands to his throat and start to squeeze. “I didn’t want to have to do this Eddie. You were my little boy and I loved you, but I can’t have a fag for a son, I can’t have a dirty, sick boy living under my roof. I am sorry, but this is for your own good, this will cleanse your soul and maybe you’ll be allowed to enter heaven or you will go to hell and repent for your sins.”

It all happened so fast, Eddie’s vision was blacking out the harder that his mother squeezed at his throat, and he knew if he didn’t act then he would be dead in seconds. Hoping to distract her long enough just so he could escape and run for help, Eddie raised his leg and slammed his foot down on his mother’s. She gasped in pain, removing her hands from his throat and backing up towards the stairs. Their eyes met for a moment, a long halted moment before she lost her balance at the top of the staircase, body tumbling backwards as Eddie tried to lunge forward and catch her.

He was too late, her fingers skimming past his own as she fell down, body thumping against the steps and even cracking a few before her head slammed against the large pillar at the bottom of the stairs with a hard, resounding crack. Silence filled the room, barr Eddie’s intense breathing as he stared down at his motionless mother on the floor of their entrance hall. From where he was standing, he could see the blood pouring onto the laminate floor from her head.

Slowly, Eddie moved his trembling body backwards until it hit the wall, allowing the tears of horror to flow.

What the hell had he done?

* * * * *

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @feldmancorey @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kat-ships-everything @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madidraw @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @photoboothreddie @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster  @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stebbins @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead  

[tsc-updates]

19k One-Shot: Kit, Tessa & Jem

April 20 2013

The sun outside was setting. It cast a warm and soft orange glow through the kitchen’s ample window, onto the large, circle-shaped, wooden table. Kit squinted at the ray of light that hit his blue eyes. He raised his gaze to Tessa, who sat on the other end of the table. He softly shook his head. “Please don’t do this.”

“I have to, Kit.” Her face was impartial of feeling, and her voice had no actual tone behind it. “I have to.”

Kit leaned his forearms on the table. “No, you don’t. Please, Tessa, I am begging you. It doesn’t have to end this way. Don’t let it end this way.”

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered, and let the card fall on the table, face up. There it stood, in all its glory, the ultimate end. The black and white card flashed in mockery, the +4 sign laughing at Kit’s misery. He looked up at Tessa. Her head was leaning to the side, and she was softly shaking it, a small smile playing in her lips. “Uno.” She said.

Kit threw his cards on the table and dropped his forehead on it with a small thud. He groaned loudly. After a couple seconds, he lifted his head again and pointed his finger at Tessa. “You’re evil.” At that point, Tessa’s smile had widened into a pearly white one.

“What just happened?” Jem sat on one of the sides of the table, placed between Kit and Tessa. He was staring at the +4 card still glinting in the sunset’s glow. “That was the most intense and most dramatic game of cards I have ever seen.”

Tessa laughed while cleaning up the cards. “You think that was intense and dramatic? You should’ve seen Will and Matthew play Go Fish. The literal meaning of intense drama.”

“How bad could it be?” Kit asked.

Tessa pulled up the sleeve of her t-shirt. “See this scar?” There was a small white uneven scar along the inside of her arm. “Family game night.”

“Will and the kids were that competitive?” Kit leaned back in his seat.

Jem snorted. “Yeah, they’re the competitive ones.” He muttered.

“Pardon?” Tessa pursed her lips.

Jem shook his head. “Nothing, dear.”

“Uh-oh. Jem’s pulling the ‘dear’ card. You must have screwed up real bad.” Kit crossed his arms. Jem threw him a grin.

“I’m not competitive.” Tessa’s eyes had widened slightly, and her eyebrows were raised. Her tone was sure but daring.

Jem took a card from the table and inspected it. “Of course not.”

“Say it.” Jem bit down on his lip to keep from smiling. “Say I’m not competitive.”

“You’re not competitive.”

Tessa was staring at him with humour in her eyes, and yet this was still one of the worst fights Kit had seen them have. “Look me in the eyes, and tell me I’m not competitive.”

Jem looked up at her. “I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would be lying, and I could never lie to you.”

“Aw that’s sweet.” Kit interjected. Tessa threw him a glare. “…tly horrible.” Jem looked at him, barely able to contain his smile. “I’m definitely on Tessa’s side. How could you ever think that she’s competitive.” Sarcasm dripped on every word he said, perking up one of the sides of Jem’s lips.

“That’s right, I’m not competitive.” Tessa was either too worked up to notice the sarcasm or had chosen to ignore it.

“Kit, let me tell you a story.” Jem leaned forward in his seat. Kit rested his elbows on the table and held his head upon his palms. “Once upon a time, many many years ago, on a regular uneventful night, I was called to the London Institute on a medical emergency. When I arrived at the Institute, I found our friends sitting around playing a card game. On the corner of the room, was Gabriel Lightwood, a large gash on the side of his head, and bleeding profusely. Apparently, someone had hit him on the head with a massive book. I had to give him stitches. Guess the someone.”

Kit fake scratched his chin, as if deep in thought. “Could it have been someone that goes by the name of Tessa Gray?” He turned his gaze to her. She was nibbling on her thumbnail, a faint blush to her cheeks.

“It was an accident.” She said, in a low voice.

Jem smirked at that. “Really? An 800-page book accidentally flew from your hand, and travelled two meters in the diagonal to the other side of the table, hitting Gabriel, who happened to be your partner in the game, completely by accident?”

She shrugged. “We live in a world of wonders.” Jem chuckled and shook his head.

“Wait, but why did you ‘accidentally’ threw the book at him at all?”

“Apparently he caused them to lose the game.” Jem mocked.

“That card was clearly a 3. And the bastard confused it for an 8 the entirety of the game. You would have to be the stupidest person on Earth to not see it was a 3. You would have to be the dumbest, blindest-“Tessa cut herself off when she saw the looks the boys were throwing her. “Again, totally an accident.”

Jem and Kit burst out laughing. The sun was barely visible outside, and the kitchen was almost in darkness. Tessa waved her hand, and the lights turned on, flooding the kitchen in a soft white glow. After settling down, Kit gave them a questioning look. “Wait, didn’t you say you just went there to give him stitches?” Jem nodded. Kit’s face scrunched up in even more confusion. “Wouldn’t an iratze fix that? Why would you call for a Silent Brother?”

Jem and Tessa shared a look and giggled. “Will did things a little differently.”

“He used to call me for the minimal sign of hurt.” Jem shook his head with fondness. “Even if it was just a paper cut.” He smiled widely. “The Silent Brothers keep a record of every time they are called in the Silent City. They made a separate room for Will’s records only. It’s like a museum down there.”

Kit snorted. “Seriously?” Jem nodded. “Uh. The Silent Brothers are surprisingly humorous about the situation.”

“It got even worse after the kids got old enough to join in.” Tessa rolled her eyes.

“What did they do to those records?”

“Lumped them in with Will’s.” Jem shrugged. “They could tell.”

“You must have some fun stories about this.” Kit directed this at Tessa.

Her smile turned sad. “I don’t really remember a lot. I didn’t even remember this story until you brought it up.” She turned to Jem, who stretched his hand towards her and took hers, rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “My memory of those days is like a light fog around the house. I know what’s supposed to be there, but everything is too blurry to make out.”

“Is it easier for Silent Brothers?”

Jem nodded. “Yes. We have special runes that help us remember everything in great detail. But ever since I left the Brotherhood that my memories have progressively become blurrier.”

Kit bit his lip and looked out the window. “Does it make it easier? Getting married, having kids, falling in love. Does it make eternity easier? Is any of it actually worth it?”

Tessa studied him. She noted the sharp intake of breath as he waited for an answer, noted the way his fingers fidgeted against one another, the way his gaze was focused on everything and nothing all at once. She’d seen that look before, on specific people. She could feel their presence on the pictures that hung behind her on the wall. She blinked away the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. “It’s different for everyone.”

“I’m not asking everyone. I’m asking you.”

The pearl bracelet around her wrist felt heavy and tight. She shook it off. “There is no easier or harder. There’s just time. And time is never enough. Not even eternal time. Married, single. Kids, childless. Having one true love, slutting it up around town. It doesn’t matter. Time is never enough. So why not spend it with the people you love?”

Kit breathed out slowly and worried at his bottom lip. Eventually he spoke up. “What if the people you love, don’t love you back?”

Tessa turned her gaze to the same direction he was set to. “Someone once told me ‘It’s all right to love someone who doesn’t love you back, as long as they’re worth you loving them. As long as they deserve it.’” Tessa looked at him again, a small smile on her lips. “Does he? Deserve it?”

She could feel Jem giving her a confused look. Kit looked at her quickly, his eyes widened in shock. Tessa didn’t look away, nor did she change her expression. Kit stared at her for a few seconds, before whispering. “He does.”

“Then you shouldn’t feel bad about loving him. You should never feel bad about loving someone.”

Kit gave her a small nod. He leaned back in his seat, the intensity of the moment worn off and his usual relaxed demeanour returning. “Who told you that? They sound like one of those dope motivational posters that school therapists hang on their walls.”

Tessa snorted. She racked her brain, but everything came back blank. “I can’t remember.”

“Do you remember who they said it about? Maybe it’ll jog your memory?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing.”

“Do you remember who they meant for you?”

She smiled and leaned closer to Jem. “There’s only two options there.”

Jem grinned and leaned forward to kiss her. They heard Kit groan. “Ugh, we get it. You three have an epic love story that makes all of us peasants have impossibly high standards. Blah blah blah. I want a rematch.”

Tessa broke the kiss giggling. “Sure. I would love to watch you lose again.”

Kit raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Totes not competitive.” Tessa threw him a glare while Jem laughed.

They settled back into the fun teasing environment that reigned supreme during their last game, the memories of black haired beauties that were too far to reach lodging in the back of their minds.

[purplebass]

For The Love of a Daughter

Couple/Characters: Wessa, Will Herondale and Tessa Gray Rating: T TW: mentions of blood Tagging: @lucieblckthorn @cordeliacarstairs1989 @churchthecatismyspiritanimal 💜 (who wants to be tagged when I write fanfic can send me a message) This one shot is set during TLH time and it takes place in CoI (ideally) and it’s also part of an idea/theory I have.

“Theresa.”

No one had called her with her full name in a while, except Will when he liked to tease her. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she could feel the coldness in it, and the detachment. And it wasn’t a chilly day. On the other hand, she had decided to take a walk close to the Institute because the weather was splendid.

She raised her head to see who had talked, only to be awestruck. It was a man she had never seen, a particularly young one. Had she not caught the color of his eyes; she wouldn’t have made the connection. “You are him.”

The man smirked. “I’m pleased to meet you, Theresa Gray. Or should I say Herondale? Which one you prefer the most?”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “I’d prefer you’d leave me alone.”

“And lose the chance of meeting you? I’m offended,” he tried to provoke her, but she tried not to let him get to her.

It was the first time in over forty years that Tessa was sharing the same space as her father, who also happened to be a prince of hell. If this was another person, perhaps she would be giddy to be an actual princess. But the prospect of being remotely related to this handsome man disgusted her.

“You can’t choose your family but you can choose your friends,” Belial commented, glancing at the child in the navy colored pram in front of her. “Interesting.”

She tightened her old on the pram and glared at him. “If you need to tell me something, you better do it now before I – “

“I just wanted to greet you, Theresa, that is all. No need to be aggressive. And I wanted to congratulate you on the baby. What’s her name? No, don’t tell me. I already know.”

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. She didn’t like speaking to this person. She didn’t need to know her father to find out that he wasn’t someone to trust. “I’d say it was my pleasure, but I’d be lying. I’d rather not meeting you again.”

“You’d be lying to yourself if you think this is the last you’ll see of me,” Belial said with hushed tones, and then he was gone.

***

She rushed back to Institute, as fast as the pram permitted her to. She didn’t want to startle her baby girl. She was still an infant, born a mere three months before, with jet black hair and grey eyes. She had been a surprise. Never did she expect to get pregnant again, not after James and Lucie. Her kids, who truly weren’t kids anymore. She and Will had agreed on having two children who were only one year apart, but of course they were ecstatic when Jem told Tessa she was pregnant. Will had been on cloud nine to become a father again, even if Tessa had seen the apprehension in his eyes. He was already distressed after the recent events; she’d hate to worry him for another person. But he had insisted that this was what life was made of. It was made of a lot of unexpected miracles. And he told her that he would love and protect this baby with his life, if it came to it.

Oh, Will.

Whenever Tessa returned to the Institute, the first thing she did was greet her husband.

She watched him silently as he sat behind his desk, his head bent on a book and his hand scribbling some notes on the margins with a pencil. He had this habit: he liked to write notes next to a passage he liked or wanted to remember. That was something that amused her although she didn’t like to smear the pages with graphite like him. She usually read a book before he did, and she never got to see what he noted, although she was curious. What could he possibly write? She didn’t like to write comments on the pages of books. She preferred to discuss what she liked or disliked with him, face to face. He still hadn’t realized she was there on the threshold, but when he did, his whole face changed.

“If it isn’t two of my favorite people in the whole universe,” said Will, raising from the velvet chair behind the mahogany desk of his study. He crossed the room over to Tessa and the baby and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “How are my girls today?”

“Tired,” Tessa replied as Will smiled at the baby. “And Estella didn’t sleep at all, she kept fussing on the way back here.”

“You’re restless like your namesake, aren’t you, Ella?” he asked the baby, then he grabbed her from the pram to hold her in his arms. He kissed the top of the baby’s head. “You should sleep, though, or your mama and I won’t be able to function tomorrow.”

Tessa grinned as she watched him bond with Estella. It was James who had decided that name, along with Lucie. He had probably suggested it because of “Great Expectations”, not realizing at first that it may remind his father of his dead sister. They discussed the topic of the name while they were in the drawing room. Tessa had just revealed her children that they would have a brother or a sister in the spring. Jamie had shot the name without thinking, and both his mother and his sister had stilled. Not that Will didn’t like to talk about Ella. To some extent, he still felt guilty for her death, but he had come to terms with it. Things couldn’t be changed, and he couldn’t take it back. Once James realized the name he had just proposed, he tried to apologize, but Will didn’t let him. “It’s perfect, Jamie. Thanks for the suggestion,” he had said, and everyone had smiled.

That night, however, Tessa wasn’t able to sleep. She tossed and turned in the bed and every once in a while, she woke up to check on baby Ella, but she saw that Will was already up trying to calm the crying baby. She teared up every time she witnessed these moments. She hadn’t asked him anything, he had always taken the initiative even with Lucie and James. She decided to get off the bed to take Ella, but when she did, she felt her legs giving in. She gripped the bed for support.

“I’m taking care of her, go back to sleep,” Will said, noticing her by the bed.

“No, I’m okay, I’m -“ she tried to stand up, but to no avail.

“Maybe you should sit down, Tess.” He suggested, then he placed the baby back in her small crib.

She nodded and tried to get back on the bed by using Will’s hand as leverage. When she tried to get her legs on the mattress, though, she had a spasm. She gripped her hold on his hand when she felt the impulse to throw up, but she didn’t.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem well,” Will asked, then he touched her forehead with his free hand. “You’re burning up. And you’re sweating. Let me help you change. I’ll grab a wet cloth.”

Tessa couldn’t do anything but nod, and then she fell into the arms of Morpheus.

She woke up at some point, because she heard a faint cry. It was probably baby Ella. She felt something cold on her head, at least she realized that. She could also tell how her nightgown smelled of fresh soap and not sweat. Somebody had probably changed her into clean night clothes. Maybe it had been Will – she recalled at least that he told her something like that before she lost consciousness. Maybe. Or maybe Lucie, or Bridget… she didn’t know.

She glanced in the direction of the crib and saw that somebody had picked the baby up.

“Will.”

He turned his head and winced. He had turned his head too abruptly, which made Tessa smile. He was worried. And most likely tired. She could see the dark circles under his eyes and his disheveled hair. His shirt was also partially open and she could see part of his upper chest.

“What time is it?” she asked, feeling her throat sore. How much time had passed since she had fallen asleep?

Will still cradled the baby when he reached her side of the bed and sat down. He checked her forehead and wrist but he didn’t reply yet. “It’s six in the morning, Tess. I was just giving Ella her milk.”

“You? But how, when…” she wanted to sit down so she could feed the baby herself.

“We gave her a raw milk formula for the moment,” he explained. “Since you are too exhausted and you have a fever. Jem suggested you don’t give your milk to Ella until you’ve recovered.”

“Ah,” she commented. Not that she was unhappy about that, after all, if Jem had said it was better to give her baby cow’s milk mixed with other things… “How much time have I been out?”

Will’s expression hardened when she asked that, but knowing him, he was aware that she would want to know. He took her hand in his while he adjusted Ella’s head on his shoulder, since it was almost time for her to burp. Tessa grinned at the gesture. Not that he hadn’t done it before, but it still warmed her heart so see him with their children.

“Two days and half,” he admitted, pulling Tessa from her reverie.

“Two?”

“Yes. You fainted the other night. I didn’t think it was serious because you were half asleep. I thought the mixture of fever and exhaustion made you lose consciousness, but then you wouldn’t wake the next morning, so I –“

“You called Jem.”

“Yes,” he revealed, making a slight grin. “I know how much you all hate that I call him all the time, since he could be in trouble for coming here when no one is sick, but you were… motionless. I checked your pulse and your chest and your heartbeat was weak. It wasn’t a simple cold, Tess.”

She could hear the way this whole thing had affected him from the sound of his voice. He was concerned and… scared?

“Then what was it?”

He sighed before answering her. “Jem think you were possessed. Because you threw up a lot of black blood. By vomiting blood you rejected the possession.” Saying those words seemed to pain him.

“What? And who could have possessed me?”

“You talked in your sleep,” Will revealed, gazing at baby Ella who had just digested her milk. “You mentioned a name.”

“Who?” Tessa asked, even if she already knew the answer to that. She didn’t know if she was more shocked by the fact that her father had tried to possess her or that she had vomited black blood.

“Belial.”

Tessa massaged her temples. The cool cloth fell on the side of her head, but to hell with that. She felt better at least. “I met him the other day.”

“You did?” he didn’t sound angry, but she could hear the hurt in his voice. “I mean, you didn’t have to tell me, Tessa, but I thought –“

She clutched his hand in her hands. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think much of it. He just appeared out of nowhere while I was with Ella. And he introduced himself and congratulated me for the baby.”

“Just like the fairy in Sleeping Beauty.”

Tessa thought about it for a second. “Do you think he placed an enchantment on me?”

Will raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t put past him. Isn’t he powerful? And you’re his daughter, he could try to do something like this to you just because he’s bored,” he raged.

“What could he possibly do to me? We’ve never meet in over forty years, Will. He doesn’t care about me like I don’t care about him. I’m just one of his spawns.”

“You’re not a spawn. You’re not an animal, Tessa.”

“I’m not in the mood for semantics, Will,” she sighed.

Will’s voice softened and he caressed her hand with his thumb. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you angry, but I also don’t want to tell you lies. During these two days and half you’ve been out, I felt like a mad man because I didn’t know who could have done this to you. Now that we probably know the culprit, I just want to…” he gritted his teeth.

“No.” Tessa’s voice was sharp and authoritative. “Today was the first time in years I’ve ever seen what the person who gave me life looks like. I do not wish to see him ever again, and I’d rather you not go after him. Not you, not Jem, nor anyone.”

“Are you really sure, Tess? Because I…”

“Will. Please. Listen to me. Leave him alone. I can’t guarantee that he won’t try to do something again,” she told him, “but it’s better not to provoke him. He’s a prince of hell, and he’s a –“

“Son of a –“ Will started, then glanced at baby Ella and shut up. “You understand what I meant, Tess.”

Tessa grinned. As usual, he managed to make her laugh even in the critical moments. “Yes. And now I would love to hold my baby, thank you.”

“You are not burning up anymore,” he affirmed after he checked her forehead again. “And whose baby are you talking about?” he asked her just to tease her.

Tessa frowned with a smirk, then extended her arms to get baby Ella. The baby was sleeping soundly and for a moment it made her believe that everything was fine. That no, her father hadn’t tried to possess her because he wanted to use her body for some seedy intentions. That he hadn’t put a spell on her and made her sick. She wanted to pretend everything was okay and that everyone was also doing great, even though she knew that something was surely coming down the pike. And soon, she was sure, she would have to face a harsher reality.

Footnote: With this story I didn’t just mean to show a possible first encounter between Belial and Tessa, but I also wanted to show you how different are Belial and Will (in this case) as fathers. While Belial doesn’t give a damn about Tessa if not for his own gain, Will takes care of his daughter without being asked to when Tessa is not doing ok. I just love to write dad!Will so much, lol.  Also, I chose the name Estella because it reminded me of stars.