#“truly Alexander that shirt is in the way”

[lurafita]

Ragnor doesn't get paid enough to deal with this!

Ragnor: "Don't you think you are a little too old to be pouting and whining like this?" Magnus: "Wrong. Because I'm very old, I can do what I want. And right now I want to pout and whine, so you will just have to deal with it." Ragnor: "Well, I'M too old to deal with this. Where is your shadowhunter?" Magnus: "Training new recruits." Ragnor: "Then why aren't you in the training room making googly eyes at him?" Magnus: "Because apparently my very reasonable suggestions to improve his fighting style are unprofessional and distracting." Ragnor: "Did your suggestions possibly include the word 'shirtless'?" Magnus: "Shut up."

#magnus bane #malec #shadowhunters tv #ragnor fell #simping magnus #“truly Alexander that shirt is in the way”

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 11: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism - Winter Soldier

Summary: Home alone, you think it's safe to have some 'special time', but unbeknown to you, he's there, always watching and admiring.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content, stalker!winter soldier, masturbation, sex toys, loneliness, exhibitionism, voyeurism

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

Being the adoptive daughter of the infamous Alexander Pierce wasn’t always as exciting and full of potential danger as you’d expect. For the most part, you are confined to your heavily guarded home 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Despite being an adult and wanting to live your own life, your father deemed it too dangerous that you could be captured and used for ransom.

Throughout your life, you’d never even seen one second of action or risk, and some would say that just means your father has protected you to the best of his abilities. There is a point, however, where you need something exciting in your life even though there are only limited ways to get any thrill.

This usually occurred when you were home alone, like tonight. Bored out of your mind whilst watching the TV attached to the wall in the living room, your dad walked past, clicking a button on his phone before tying his show lace. Glancing at the time on your phone, you assumed he was going to work, considering it was so late; you knew better than to ask him what was wrong to demand his time.

Walking over, your dad briefly paused to lean down and kiss your forehead, pretending he cared, but there was nothing Alexander Pierce truly loved more than Hydra. He didn’t even need to say that he was leaving as your dad prepared to leave, assuming you had caught on to his gathering of stuff that he would be going, but before he could step out of the door, you shouted in his direction, “Am I expecting company tonight?”

Your Dad knew who you were referring to. The Winter Soldier. The assassin whom you’d met on numerous occasions tended to turn up unannounced to your home in search of your father to debrief or receive new orders, so you made sure to ask regarding his whereabouts so that you could be prepared for a midnight visit.

“No, he’s a couple of states away on a mission and not due to be back for another few days. I’ll lock up on my way out; don’t wait up for me”. Without another look or even an ‘I love you’, Alexander Pierce left out of the front door, and the sound of the shutters around the windows started to descend, and the thick locks on all doors clicked into place.

You were locked in, and as soon as the metal stopped creaking and you knew your dad’s car had driven off, you sighed in sweet relief at finally being home alone. It was almost like an automatic reaction for your body to become horny as soon as you were locked in, knowing that no one would interrupt and you had free reign to do whatever you pleased, which would always be masturbation.

Turning up the TV loud so you could hear it from your bedroom and not feel as alone, you changed your clothing to just an oversized shirt and nothing more, selecting which vibrator you wanted from the box beneath your bed. Today was going to be the purple bullet vibrator and then returned to the living room.

This was one of the only places where you could feel any sort of rebellion or thrill. Yes, you could and do masturbate in your bedroom just like anyone else would, but being able to do it in technically a public space gave you little bursts of adrenaline. If your father returned home, you’d be able to hear the security system unlocking, but it was also an area that was supposed to be where everyone gathered and had family time. This didn’t refer to your home, though, as you were the only person to use the living area as your father was either in his office, the gym or not home at all.

Lying down on the soft couch, your head nestling into the decorative pillow, you tried to focus your mind into the horny zone. The excitement you anticipated hit you in your gut as you lifted your shirt until it rested over your collarbones to reveal your nude body.

As the chilled breeze ghosted over your skin, it caused a ripple effect of goosebumps to shiver over you, nipples hardening, which sparked pleasure to build in your abdomen and moisture to slick at your entrance. Closing your eyes, your fingers teased over your breasts, imagining they were someone else's hands, exploring the fresh and finding where you were most sensitive.

Pinching your nipples gently, you released a soft sigh as another hand drifted down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Biting your lip, your knees separated to allow your fingers to collect some of the juices that had leaked from your hole and then spread it over your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in circles.

You were entirely in the zone, feeling increasingly more aroused with breathy moans and whimpers escaping your open mouth each second. This was your favourite place to be, hot and bothered, getting yourself off to feel your cunt pulsing around two of your fingers.

Then you were pressing the vibrator against your clit with two fingers delved into your warmth, curling and pressing on the spot that had your back arching and breaths hitching.

Everything was building, like an orchestra reaching its crescendo, approaching the peak of no return and complete euphoria. Then, the sensation rushed over you. Not the pleasant orgasmic blissful shiver but a haunting, the hairs standing on end over your arms and the back of your neck with unease. It felt like someone was watching you, but that wasn’t the case; the building was locked down, and the security cameras didn't point in this direction.

Your eyes opened on instinct, and fear, horror and dread pulsed through your stomach as you screamed, closing your legs and rushing to stand and cover your body with your shirt. Your knees buckled from the lasting effects of getting yourself off, but you clung to the arm of the couch whilst trying to turn off the vibrator.

It felt like your heart had moved to your throat, with the fear of throwing up and passing out at the same time taking over as you stared unblinking at the man currently sitting in the armchair next to the couch you’d been masturbating on. He was sitting as still as a statute, head to toe, in his tactical gear, even the mask.

“Soldier?” your voice reverberates off the walls you’ve shouted that loud. All it earned you was a tilt of his head to the side, but he didn’t say a single word, so you continued to shout, even though you knew you should have remained calm around someone as dangerous as him. “What the fuck are you doing here? You should have knocked or- something! How did you even get in here?!”

He simply sat there, staring at you with deep blue eyes, his long hair framing his face, his deadly hands resting on the arms of the chair, acting casually like he hadn’t just been sitting there as you feverishly masturbated naked in front of him. The more time passed, the worse your tremors became, almost like you were vibrating with anxiety.

It wasn’t uncommon for the Winter Soldier to not knock when he came to the house however usually your father was present or he’d been anticipated but for him to somehow get in when the house was on lockdown and not be expected, it had you on edge.

“Why didn’t you announce yourself, Soldier?” you tried to sound confident and not fearful, but your voice cracked on the last word, which gave away your anxiety. Your thoughts were going around and around in your head; how long had he been there? How did you not even hear him walking into the room?

The Assets head tilted to the other right, his eyes remaining focused only on your face as he finally began to talk in his low, drawled voice, “Why did you stop?”

Your eyes widened in shock briefly before trying to regain control, “What did you say?”

“You don’t usually stop. Why did you stop now?”

Your heart seemed to stop at this question. Swallowing the thick glob of spit in your mouth, you asked, “What do you mean usually? Have... have you seen me doing this before?”

He nods slowly, and you want to vomit immediately. Closing your eyes briefly, you tried to take a deep breath, hoping it would give you some composure. Maybe this was karma working her evil magic on you, you had decided, for having a kink with being caught, which is why you masturbated in the living room. Why on earth were you now upset when you’d actually been caught?

Sighing and rubbing both hands over your face, ignoring that they were still slightly wet from earlier, you tried to explain to the assassin, “You know, it’s not normal to watch people during intimate times like this. You’re supposed to announce yourself or something”.

“But you look at peace when you do it”, he says in the same emotionless voice. His words catch you off guard, but he continues, “You didn’t finish today like you usually do”.

The way he spoke about what you were doing, you weren’t even sure he knew what it was or the consequences of your actions. You knew his history, who he was and how they controlled him. Did he even know what sex was with all the times his mind had been wiped? He wasn’t acting like a creep, even if he had snuck in to watch you masturbate and clearly had watched it several times before. If he was going to hurt you, he would have done so by now, so tentatively, you sat back onto the couch, still pulling the bottom of your shirt lower over your legs and hiding the vibrator beneath your thigh.

“I didn’t finish like the other times because I didn’t know you were watching; it can make people uncomfortable knowing someone is watching them”.

“Does it make you uncomfortable that you know I’m watching?” his tone lowered with the question he was asking.

“Yes! I don’t want people to watch me do this, and what if my Dad finds out? What if you tell him what I’ve been doing?”

Bucky finally showed some emotion as he frowned in confusion, “Why would I tell your father about this? It has nothing to do with the mission? I like watching you because you seem to enjoy it; isn’t that a good thing?”

He seemed so innocent in his questioning. “Just so I’m getting this right, are you expecting me to continue?” The soldier nods yes in an answer as you release a long breath. “If I say no, will you kill me?” This time, he shakes his head, giving you the answer no, which did little to alleviate the nerves catapulting through you.

Standing up from the couch whilst clutching the vibrator, you rushed towards your bedroom, intending to hide the sex toy and lock yourself in so that you didn’t have to sit looking at the soldier anymore. However, as you stood before the door, you thought it over more. If he’d been watching you all of this time, then what’s the difference with him being here now? He could overpower you any time he wanted, and he didn't want any pleasure back; otherwise, he would have made advances before.

This whole situation came about because you liked the thought of being watched or caught, so why were you running away from that scenario? Having made up your mind, you returned to the living room, where the Soldier hadn’t moved even a strand of hair since you’d left in a hurry.

Sitting back on the couch, your eyes remained everywhere but on him. In fact, as you led back down, you closed your eyes with the hopes that not being able to see him would help to calm the pounding of your nervous heart.

Your nipples were still hard, so you pressed on them through your shirt with trembling fingers, not quite believing you were in this situation. The wetness from your earlier escapades was still evident over your thighs, which you sept firmly closed. Biting your lower lip until it hurt, you kept stimulating your nipples by rubbing the peaks around in circles before pinching them to elicit more of a reaction between your legs.

It worked after a couple of minutes as your muscles lost the tension and melted into the cushions further. Eventually, your thighs were spreading as you tried to only think about that orgasm that had been so very close to pleasuring your body but had quickly disappeared from the soldier's appearance.

With your legs now parted and cunt on full displaying, facing the Asset at the end of the couch, you turned the vibrator on, deciding to go straight for the toy this time rather than playing around first. Pressing the device just above your clit, you released a breathy moan, thighs shaking with the increased delight.

This time, your body heated to the point of sweat, and your face hot to the touch because no matter how much you tried to think of anything else, it always came back to the man sitting near you. With your hips jolting and rolling to push against the vibrator, your fingers moved the shirt further up your stomach, revealing your navel and breasts so you could rub and play with them without restriction.

Then, to both your horror and delight, the Winter Solider flashed into your mind, but this time, it was him hovering above you, using his gloved hands to press against your nipples. Your moans increased in volume, back arching with this thought as you begged your mind to continue this naughty thought.

Releasing your breast, your hand trailed down your body, tickling the delicate skin before dipping past your clit and two fingers into your drenched cunt. You were sure he had thicker fingers than you, but the thought of him between your legs, curling them right into that beautiful spot, his other hand holding the vibrator to your clit, had you whithering around on the couch.

Your pussy clenched harshly around your fingers, trying to draw them deeper, needing their fullness. You weren’t sure when it was, but at some point, your eyes opened so that you could look directly at the man in question, who still had failed to move from his seat in the armchair. You weren’t looking at his body thought; you were looking at those sparking blue eyes partially hidden beneath his hair as they continued to look at just your face like he only wanted to see the pleasure you displayed rather than just touching yourself.

“Oh god”, you groan aloud to these thoughts, legs spreading further open and half-flopping off the couch as you curl your fingers faster and harder. You wished it was his fingers touching you, getting you off and bringing you close to the point of orgasming. The vibrator stroked back and forth against your throbbing clit, and that was all the additional stimulation you needed to reach your peak.

Your eyes finally closed once more as you came hard, body shaking and curling in on yourself with each pulse of your pussy around your fingers. You hadn’t orgasmed that hard in months, so it took you a couple of minutes to try and catch your breath and come out of the buzzing created by the euphoria. 

Now what? You thought whilst turning off the vibrator entirely and leaving the two of you in complete silence. The assassins still hadn’t moved, and for a brief second, you thought of his arousal. Could he even be turned on? Was that a function the scientists allowed him to keep while brainwashed? Was he watching you enough to turn him on?

The thought was swiftly pushed out of your mind as you realised he was the fucking Winter Soldier, the highest-trained assassin who was also 70+ years old; this was probably last on his list of things to be worried about. Sitting up whilst covering your body with your t-shirt once more, you struggled to think what to say or do.

“Do you want me to call my Dad to tell him you’re here for a debrief?” From the corner of your eye, the Asset nodded. You stood to take the call in your bedroom, but as you stood, your eyes briefly looked at him more clearly and noticed that he very evidently had an erection with the way his tactical gear was tented at the crotch. For some reason, this made you feel relieved that he had been turned on by what you saw, and it wasn’t just a one-way situation.

Standing and walking into your bedroom, you collapsed onto the bed with your phone raised to your ear.

Your dad answered immediately with a stern tone, “Yes?”

“Uh hey, Dad, just to let you know, the Soldier’s here”.

“What?” came Alexander Pierces’ concerned voice through the mobile.

“Yeah, he just turned up a couple of minutes ago in the living room”.

“Well, tell him to get back to the compound. I won’t be home tonight, so he needs to come here”.

Finishing the conversation with him, you stood to tell the Soldier his orders but found him nowhere in the building, not in the living room, kitchen or even by the front door. He had simply vanished, and what's more, the alarm was still in place, which meant he had a way of getting in and out of your home without triggering the alarm, which you were sure if it terrified or excited you.

#Winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine*

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 35: Oliver's Walk

Previous Masterlist Next

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control

Oliver woke up slowly, stretching and yawning and rolling over several times to doze off again, before finally sitting up.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. He was utterly relaxed as he lounged in bed, with nothing particularly pressing driving him out of his soft cocoon of blankets. He was free to daydream about what had happened the night before, how pleasing he'd been to his master.

He'd successfully fed his master, made him happier and stronger, fulfilled the purpose Miss Lily had set for him back at the auction house, and it felt just as good as he'd hoped it would. Better, truly. 

It was late afternoon, and the sun was low in the sky, so he had some time before Alexander awoke. He didn't even really seem to have particular duties here besides the feedings and making his master coffee. He'd have plenty of time to have breakfast and read.

Before too long, he was in the library with a steaming hot mug, perusing the books once again and trying to pick out something to sit down with. He chose a comprehensive-looking book on merfolk, bound in attractive teal letter with embossed silver ink, and was delighted to find that it was illustrated with many interesting plates of strange sea creatures.

All of this was real -- merfolk, vampires, magic -- and he was a part of it.

It felt right, the distress of how he'd arrived here slowly starting to ebb from his mind. It was just so comfortable here in his Master's library, curled into a leather sofa with a mug of rich coffee.

As the sun dipped low in the sky, forcing Oliver to ignite a gas lamp to have enough light to read, he remembered that he wanted to make fresh coffee for his master as he awoke. It was the least he could do, really.

He bought you at auction, you were kidnapped --

Oliver pushed aside the unhelpful intrusion as he bustled about the kitchen. He was here now, with no means of escape. Wasn't it better to be contented with it?

"Good evening, Oliver," said Alexander from the kitchen doorway. "I thought I smelled coffee. Thank you for making it."

"You're welcome, sir," said Oliver, pleased to be helpful. His master really did look much healthier, his eyes brighter and skin less deathly pale, and he was glad to see it.

Useful, he was useful. And wanted. 

Alexander sipped at the coffee, and nodded in approval. "The weather is fine tonight, if a bit brisk. I was thinking some fresh air would do me good. Would you care to accompany me on my walk?"

"Yes, sir!" Oliver eagerly jumped at the chance. He hadn't been outside for more than a few minutes ever since the night he'd been kidnapped.

Soon enough, he was perusing his wardrobe for something warm that didn't expose his neck, and settled on a soft red flannel shirt and slacks. Everything fit him perfectly, which made sense given that his master had his measurements from the auction house.

And then his master opened the front door, and he was out in the cool night air, in the ordinary bustle of the city, unrestrained except for the very real fetters on his mind. Alexander just trusted him to stand on the sidewalk and wait patiently while he fiddled with the key to the mansion. Oliver glanced around at the ordinary people going about their usual nightly business. A workman in overalls tipped his hat and bid Oliver good evening. No one would ever have guessed that he was in thrall to a vampire.

"How about the park?" Alexander wrapped around Oliver's arm possessively as they began to make their way down the street, stirring up the deeply buried desires Oliver had often felt while watching other people walk down the street arm-in-arm. Even if they were master and thrall and not lovers or even truly friends... perhaps he was affection starved enough that simply feeling wanted was enough.

He couldn't help but notice how passersby seemed to instinctually give them a wide berth. It was no doubt a result of his Master's vampiric aura. How had he not sensed it before, when Alexander was a customer in his shop? Or had he, and it was one of the things that had interested him in his former patron long before he realized Alexander's true nature?

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it? Crisp and clear," said Alexander, He gazed up at the sky, and Oliver's gaze followed. The moon was half-full and bright stars were visible, with no clouds in sight. "An ideal night for stargazing. Perhaps I'll perch myself on the roof later. You're welcome to join me. I could teach you how to read the stars."

"You know fortune-telling, sir?"

"A dear friend of mine taught me," he said. "I don't put real stock in it, of course. Comforting fairy tales."

"I've rather always enjoyed comforting fairy tales, sir."

"As do I." 

They passed a grand theater, where well-dressed patrons in fine suits and furs were lining up to see an evening performance. Alexander stopped to look at the scene. "Do you enjoy live music, Oliver? The theater? Stage performances in general?"

"It's not something I partook in often, sir, but I think I would enjoy it, given a chance." Money had often been tight, movies were cheap, and books were always at hand, so the sort of high society entertainment offered by the theater Alexander was pointing out to him had not been a priority.

"The next performance at this theater is going to be a renowned ballet company from France. I've been spending too much time hidden away in my manor lately, so I was thinking of attending. Would you be interested?"

"Me, sir?" He was surprised that his master was inviting him along to the ballet, as though he were a companion and not a thrall. "I think it'd be very interesting, but I don't know the etiquette. I don't want to embarrass you, sir."

"Nonsense, you wouldn't embarrass me in the slightest. You're perfectly conditioned and I would set out an appropriate wardrobe for you. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing other than enjoying the dance. What do you think?"

"I think that sounds more than agreeable, sir," he said, pleased that his master trusted him, and that he would be allowed entertainment and pleasurable outings.

They reached the park, and the moon and flickering gaslights gave just enough light for Oliver to see the trees turning red and gold. It'd be the height of fall soon enough, and he'd been looking forward to fresh apples and cooler temperatures. Now, he was just grateful to be here in the park, with the chill night wind blowing across his face -- during his time in the auction house's captivity, he had often feared never seeing the outside again.

"Oliver," said Alexander, breaking his train of thought. "I would like to get to know you better."

Oliver looked away. "I'm afraid there isn't a lot to get to know, sir. You already know of my bookshop, which consumed the bulk of my time."

"I'm sure there's more than that." His intense eyes bore down on Oliver. "I wish for you to be happy while you're in my care. What is it that you want? I'll try to provide, if I can."

Was this a test? "I wish to serve you, Master?"

The displeased look in his Master's eyes indicated that that wasn't the answer he wanted. "I mean before all this. Before me, before vampires. I want to honestly know what it was you desired from life."

He was a bit stunned that his master had even asked that, surprised that he could still have desires other than feeding and serving the vampire. What did he want?

Growing up, he hadn't had much in the way of dreams. Dreams were for the books he read. His designated path was to inherit the bookshop from his ailing father and run it according to his best instincts -- and he'd been reasonably content with that future. Other dreams, of seeing the world, of adventure and romance, of art and culture, those had always seemed so far away, meant for other people. There was no use in trading a comfortable, ordinary life to chase something risky. He'd never been the sort.

Strange, then, that the first time in a long time that he'd given serious thought to what he wanted in life was after being imprisoned and conditioned.

He trusted his master. He didn't think he would be punished for speaking his mind. He'd said there would be no punishments, after all.

"I would like to travel, sir," he said softly. "I always wanted to see more of the world than this small city. To enjoy different cultures, to see the sights I read about in books... but money was always tight, and I had the bookshop to look after, and the idea of leaving home was overwhelming. But that's one thing I think I might want."

"Indeed. I'm much the same." Alexander sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm as trapped in the city as you, the curse of my sire. Otherwise, I would happily take you along to travel the world. Someday..."

"Why has your sire trapped you in the city, sir?"

"What else would you desire?" said his master, as though he hadn't heard the question. "There must be something in my power to grant you."

Something smaller, perhaps. "I enjoy sketching, although I've never been good at it. If I could have a notebook and pencils."

"Of course, that's no trouble at all. I'll locate the finest supplies in the city. Anything else?"

"Well... I spent a great deal of my time thinking about the supernatural, sir," said Oliver. "Now that I know that the inhabitants of fairy tales and horror stories are real, I think I'd enjoy learning all that I can about them."

Alexander brightened at this. "Now, that's absolutely within my wheelhouse. When we return to the manor, I can put together an assortment of books that will serve as a primer on the actual supernatural world, not the fantasies imagined by humans," he said. "There are places I could take you to meet more of my kind, and others besides. Social clubs I don't often frequent, but would be welcome. I could keep you safe."

"Oh, can you?" said a snide voice behind them.

His master whipped around in a flash, pushing Oliver behind him. It was a young woman in a torn, dirty red dress, her messy hair falling around her face. "You've got a real treat there, don't you?" she said, grinning. "He smells delicious, and I'm awfully hungry."

"Newly sired," Alexander said. "I advise you against challenging vampires like me unless you are sure you can win. There's plenty of blood in the city, but also plenty of vampire hunters, and a fight could attract their attention."

"What's a little attention? I'm not just hungry for blood, you know. I'm hungry to take down cocky old vampires like you who haven't been challenged in a century. I think -- I think --"

His Master's vampiric aura had been growing unbearably thick and oppressive as they talked. Oliver found all thoughts being forced from his mind, fighting the urge to drop to his knees in a daze. The other vampire seemed to be struggling just as much, her speech faltering and knees shaking.

"I remember what it was like to be a young vampire," said Alexander, stopping a few steps away form her. "That's why I'm going to give you a chance to leave. Go to 32 Sparrow Road, about a mile and a half from here, and you'll find a place that sells blood cheap. Have your fill there."

The vampire nodded slowly, and then faster, backing away from his master and breaking into a run.

"You scared her off," said Oliver, as his thoughts began to return to him.

"It's the best way to handle situations like this. It's unlikely she'll last out the winter, but I don't care to be the one to kill her. Even if she's learned her lesson about confronting stronger vampires, she'll probably be picked off by a hunter while stalking the streets for food." Alexander shrugged. "In fact, if there are fledglings about, there are probably hunters. Let's go home before we receive any more unwanted company."

Oliver wasn't sure if it was his imagination or if Alexander really was gripping him more tightly on their way back to the manor.

"Let me check the mail before we go inside," said Alexander, pulling a few cards from the box. "Oh, a calling card from Lily. I suppose she did say she would be by for a social call soon. And she wants to bring Ruth." He turned to Oliver. "I believe you've met Lily's thrall, Miriam. Ruth will probably bring her favorite thrall, Charlie. You'll have someone to talk to that isn't a vampire."

"That sounds very good, sir." Oliver was surprised yet again, as he didn't expect to be allowed to socialize with other thralls. Miriam wasn't much of a conversationalist, but perhaps this Charlie would be better.

His master was flipping through a few more envelopes until he reached one plastered with stickers and stamps. Overseas mail, it seemed to be. Alexander's face lit up in a way Oliver hadn't seen before. "Let's go in."

Alexander only stopped briefly to remove his shoes and coat before heading into the library, Oliver trailing behind. He tossed the rest of the mail down on the desk before fetching a letter opener and ripping open the mail that had captured his attention. His eyes traveled back and forth rapidly, his smile growing.

"Sir?" said Oliver, unable to contain his curiosity.

"Oliver," said Alexander, startled as though he'd forgotten Oliver was there. "My dear friend is arriving for a short visit in the next few weeks."

"You seem very pleased about this, sir," he said. "Is your friend also a vampire?"

"You have nothing to fear. He'll like you."

He noticed that Alexander didn't say that Oliver would like him.

"I was going to put together a reading list for you, wasn't I?" said his master, breezing past Oliver and into the stacks, that uncharacteristic smile still plastered on his face. "Let me put that together, and that will occupy you while I compose my response to my friend."

Oliver nodded, questions swirling in his mind, unsure which, of any, to ask, and feeling that Alexander was likely to dodge them all.

Previous Masterlist Next

A bit of an interlude before the shit hits the fan.

I'm trying to build up a bit of a buffer so that I can continue weekly postings of the main story, and then I hope to burn down some of this inbox backlog...

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives

#whump #whump writing #whumper #whumpee #vampire whumper #vampire #mind control #captivity #rare bookseller #alexander #oliver

[mywritingonlyfans]

Stitches. // Alex Turner X Reader.

prompt: alex getting some stitches by you (med) after a gig episode. (it's a first meeting short-fic)

words: 1,7K.

His expression was filled with tension, an awkward smile pleading the curly-haired man to rescue him from the situation. His long legs fidgeted uncontrollably, as if he were trying to dig a hole in the ground.

"Alexander?" you addressed him, seeking confirmation from the man beside him. They appeared slightly older than you, exuding a coolness that was hard to ignore. "Well, I suppose you're the one in need of stitches, right?" you smiled, trying to convey a sense of calmness through his concerned, chocolate-colored eyes.

Your voice carried a friendly tone as you held his chin gently in your hand, examining the dried blood on his brow. His face nuzzled into your palm, eliciting a sweet smile from you as your eyes met his. He resembled a golden, vulnerable puppy, scared like one during a New Year's fireworks display.

"Is this goin’ to ‘urt?" His eyebrows softened, and you had to suppress a cute sigh in his presence.

The man patted his shoulder, assuring him of his presence. The smile was no longer on his lips, but he remained adorable. Dressed in a blazer and a crisp white shirt, he was undoubtedly feeling hot inside, yet the adrenaline prevented him from realizing it. His face was perfectly sculpted, with a well-defined jawline, and you found yourself fixated on the small scar near his eye, becoming somewhat obsessed with it. They appeared casual yet sophisticated, a captivating sight to behold.

"Not much, it'll be quick!" you reassured him, wetting a piece of cotton for his wound.

"He's not exactly the brave type," the man commented. You chuckled, though Alex didn't seem too pleased about it.

"Yeah? I must admit I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now, but I promise to make it as painless as possible."

"Thank you," he swallowed, growing increasingly tense.

His friend maintained a smile on his face, as if silently declaring his correctness. Judging by Alex’s expression, he was probably right.

You introduced yourself to him, and he appeared pleased by that, prompting himself for you to lift his face with your thumb. It seemed he was genuinely happy to know your name, although it could have just been your imagination playing tricks on you.

He was about to repeat your name, but you acted faster and pressed the cotton to his wound. He shivered, suppressing a groan. It was so adorable that you almost wished you hadn't interrupted him, as you longed to hear him say your name out loud. Even if only for a single time.

"I'm sorry," you wrinkled your nose. Patients in pain weren't your favorite thing, especially when their well-being rested in your hands. "I promise this is the worst part, you'll soon be numb and feel nothing."

"Yeah, Al. The doctor is pretty, they won't kill you if you don't ask," the man chimed in, causing Alex to blush and sending a delightful tingle through your body. It wasn't a vulgar remark.

"Uh, I'll ask you to close your eyes, I think it'll be better that way."

"Don't mind him, he's just trying to distract me."

"I see. Do you think it's working?" You continued the conversation. Theoretical classes had taught you that talking to patients could help them endure pain a bit better. Alex wasn't a child, but in that moment, he seemed just as nervous and restless.

"I think so, actually. Your presence helps. I thought I'd find someone older and grumpy." His brows twitched, and a tear trickled down his face. Why did it feel like the pain was affecting you too?

"Shhh, love. It's alright, we're almost done," you whispered, gently pressing your fingers against the sides of the wound to check if he felt anything. Fortunately, he didn't. From that point on, he would be fine.

"I wish I could say that your kindness and gentleness are calming me, but I'd be lying, although I truly appreciate it." He smiled sweetly, almost tempted to open his eyes but then deciding against it.

"Keep them closed, I like your long lashes." You felt a chill run down your spine after saying that, but it was so honest and spontaneous that you would have felt bad for not mentioning it. After all, you wouldn't see him again. "They look good on you," you added, placing your hand under his neck and twirling a lock of his hair around your fingers. Maybe you were overreacting, but you wanted to savor this moment and hold him a little longer. The man smiled back at you, having read you like a book. You couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed, yet pleased.

"Aren't you too young for that? I'm not judging, just curious," the curly-haired man asked as soon as you looked at Alex. His cheeks were flushed, along with the tip of his nose. God, you wanted to kiss him. At least you wished you could do it once.

"It's okay," you avoided looking at his friend. "I'm in training. I've stitched people up before, but if it makes you feel better, I can get someone else to do it for your boy." Your voice revealed your nervousness. You hated to entertain the thought, as it was disrespectful, but if someone didn't want you to touch their body, you wouldn't be the one sewing them.

"No babe, I didn't mean it like that. Alex looks good with you. It was supposed to sound like a compliment. It looks like you've been doing it for years," he quickly clarified.

You let out the breath you were holding and refocused your attention on making Alex feel better. "Then, thank you," you glanced at him and could see that he never intended to belittle you.

"He's not mine, he's just in a band with me," he said, keeping his eyes closed and lightly touching your white coat. He squeezed the fabric slightly, his hand grazing the skin around your waist. "That's how it happened, by the way. It was crazy but kinda nice. How long will it take?" He swallowed dryly, making you chuckle as he held you a little tighter. You didn't think they were actually together, but you found it adorable that he thought so and took it lightheartedly. His urgency in making himself clear that they weren't together gave you hope, as if there was something potentially more to come.

"Just a few more," you muttered. "So, are you in a band? What do you play? And what exactly were you doing that led to this?"

His nose twitched into a smile, making you feel better, knowing you were managing to distract him. "I'm a singer and guitarist, and I got a little too excited with the microphone stand while I was singing. It's usual, but, huh, this time it didn't turn out so well as you can see," his friend babbled, looking at you and whispering, "He's a bastard." By his movement, you understood that he had kicked the object at some point. You nodded, playing along.

"I'll guess you guys are a rock band, huh? It doesn't seem like a very smart thing to do, but I think if I could, I would try too," you took a step back, analyzing your artwork on his pale skin.

"See, Matthew? It's a normal thing, you should try!" he spoke in a funny voice, sounding like an inside joke between them. Matthew rolled his eyes at him.

"Well, we're done," you held onto his shoulders, studying him. He smiled broadly, letting his chocolate-colored, lazy eyes meet yours. He looked even more attractive when you could see his light, relaxed smile. "You look good!"

"You look good too!" his attention remained on you, causing the entire room to go silent around you until Matthew coughed exaggeratedly.

Your cheeks flushed with warmth. Alex was something else. It had only been a few seconds since his hand was on your waist, and you already missed it.

"You could come to one of our gigs if you want," Matthew suggested.

"Yes, please. You'll love us!" Alex exclaimed, as if you had never stitched him up.

"Promise me that if I go, you won't scare me by trying to get hurt again?"

"I promise, no jumping around or kicking things when you're watchin’ me," he held up his hand, giving you his word.

"Then, fine. I'll keep that in mind. What's the name?"

"Arctic Monkeys," he got up, and your mind went dizzy with his height and essence. It certainly wasn't what you expected, but it wasn't a bad thing. He looked like a cute, not-much-tall, pudding mess. "I'm Alex. You can call me just Al, luv" he took your arm, placing a quick kiss on your head. You resisted the urge to hug his torso.

"The singer and guitarist, I'll remember that, you'll see," you were smiling like crazy.

"Just contact me, I'll be glad to see you again," he said happily, following Matthew, who was already by the door. "And you're really good at what you do, like this whole mini medical genius thing that you are, really good." You nodded, mumbling a simple 'thank you' while watching him walk awkwardly but cute to his friend. Your whole mood was radiant, and you felt like you could work another shift wearing that smile.

"Uh, excuse me," you were taken out of your reverie. You put your hand over your mouth so you wouldn't look so silly for smiling at nothing. "My bastard friend told you to contact him, but he forgot to exchange numbers with you." He added, waving a small paper in front of you. He was clearly enjoying the situation. How could you forget that you needed to have his number?

"Oh, yeah, thank you."

"And don't forget to call him. Don't make me come ‘ere with him again," he blinked as you nodded fiercely at his words. 

He wouldn't have to.

...

taglist: @ohladymoon @indierockgirrl @bloo-wisteria @bellaturner @cosmoschaotic @nikisfwn @andrews-lovr

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x y/n #this is a quick one just bc i remember i did one like this before

[lawsofchaos1]

Malec Prompt-let: Nameless Nephilim

What if nephilim aren’t given names when they’re born? Shadowhunters are an incredibly communal society- all glory is to your family and your people, not to you, and so the idea of names is considered too individualistic. Instead, children are given a Line Name and a Blessing Name, a title. 

For example, Alexander means ‘Protector of Men,’ a suitable title for the first-born son of an Old line, while Isabelle is ‘Pledged to God,’ typical for a daughter, and Jonathan is ‘Gift of God’.

(It’s also telling that Maryse and Robert’s Blessing Name for Alec is one of the few options that isn’t a thanksgiving or a description of devotion to the Angel - it’s a task. It’s a statement that he was born for and lives for a single purpose - that he is only made worthy in the eyes of his Line through accomplishing his title, not through simply being.)

Young nephilim often play with shortening their names as a way to differentiate themselves and make something approaching a name, but you cannot truly name yourself.

(It’s even considered slightly rebellious that Alec, Izzy, and Jace are fully grown and still go by their short-names, Jace particularly so given that it’s so different from his Blessing Name.)

Izzy and Jace have quietly been given personal names over the years- ones used only by the closest of loved ones. Alec uses their True Names occasionally, but only in the most personal and private of times. (Neither Robert nor Maryse know their children’s True Names.)

Alec, however, has never been given a true name. He never lets on how much it hurts that both his siblings think nothing of commenting on how much Alec’s Blessing Name fits him, how much he lives to uphold his mandate. 

Alec, however, just wants a name that’s his, something that tells him he’s worthy of existing for himself and not just in relation to what he does for others. 

When Alec meets Magnus, it’s the first time he’s ever heard his Blessing Name in full and not loathed the sound of it. When ‘Alexander’ rolls off Magnus’ tongue, it feels like a Blessing and not a a command that has shaped his entire life, for better or for worse.

Magnus has no idea of this custom of the nephilim, however, until one night after a visit from Maryse, when the stress and the pain and everything just get to be too much and Alec breaks, unexpectedly snapping to not call him that when Magnus pulls him against his chest to murmur ‘Alexander ‘ into his hair.

Magnus freezes, hesitant, and Alec can’t bare to let Magnus think he’s done something wrong, but he also can’t bare to see Magnus’ face when he tells him that he doesn’t even have a name, so he keeps his head buried in the cool silk of Magnus’ shirt as he haltingly explains the concept of Blessing Names to his boyfriend.

Later that night, tears dried and emotionally spent, Alec and Magnus are curled up together in Magnus’ sheets when Magnus whispers a name, a true blessing into Alec’s hair.

Beloved.

#lawsofchaos rambles #malec #shadowhunters #promptlet #canon what canon

[angelicsjn]

how are the six yanderes with a friendly s/o? Like no matter the gender, they're js very friendly. I can only imagine niko's reaction 😭😭 ANYWAYS I LOVE UR WORKS KEEP IT UP!! <33

Thank you so much, angel!

YOUR SIX YANDERES.

— ROMAN CORNELIUS JAMES BEAUREGARD.

This honestly makes Roman happy.

He finds it hard to connect to people on a personal scale, so he would initially be very interested in you based on how you treat others - no matter who they are.

Plus, while in a relationship it only aids him and his image. How can he be a mean and tough person if his partner is the epitome of kindness?

The journalists are obsessed with you and your drace, how you bright up every photo and the fans can't help but love you.

But Roman doesn't get jealous easy, he's secure in himself and your relationship.

Befriend his teammate, have dinners with the other wags, go to parties in Monaco with him and drink champagne on yachts with his closest friends!

Everybody knows better than to cross Roman Beauregard and his shiniest trophy.

— LATEN REED.

He's very kind himself! So he loves it. Two sunshines are better than one.

At times he would prefer you to be more standoffish, he doesn't like that nasty twinge he feels in his chest when you laugh at one of his teammates jokes a little too hard, but it still makes him happy that his friends and family like you.

Anyway, nobody will threaten your relationship; they're a dumb person if they do because well... Have you seen the size of him?

In general, he adores your kindness and appreciates the positivity you give him after a bad day, but sometimes he suffers a sad case of jealousy.

— JAE 'NIKO' LEE.

Oh boy...

He HATES it. It annoys him. So. Fucking. Much.

Why are you smiling at that stranger?

Why do you laugh at their jokes? They aren't even funny.

Stop complimenting the colour of that persons T-shirt. Compliment him!

He goes borderline insane and blames you for almost causing him a bullying scandal online due to his jealous rage.

He will water it down, take all of that kindness and keep it for himself.

He's selfish, in every way possible.

— KAIDAN ALEXANDER WOLFE.

He doesn't really notice it at first since he's around very 'happy' people all of the time.

He just believes that you're being nice to look good, to make friends. Maybe you're lying.

Even better - you're saying it subliminally to him...

He wore red yesterday, obviously you're complimenting the girls red coat as a hint. Duh!

But he also takes notes. Whatever you like in a person, he will become.

Just for you, darling!

— HAYDEN WEST.

It makes his life a whole lot easier as regards to communication with him.

If you speak first, show openess and kindness, he feels more confident because you can carry the initial conversations until his nerves have settled.

He does feel jealousy at times, especially if you show more interest in someone else; someone better than him; someone more desirable than him.

Hayden isn't mean, it's not who he is. Much like you he prefers kindness but being kind doesn't get the girl, not usually, so seeing you bond with others so freely makes him feel under attack.

what if you find better?

— JOSHUA WHITE.

He loves it.

He loves your kind nature, your giving self. He loves how you attract so much energy and spread so much love.

You truly are an angel sent down to love, to love the earth and its people.

To love him.

It reminds him that there is good on earth and that God believes he is worthy of such a gem.

#darling reader #darlingcore #yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere character

[alexanderlightweight]

what about something revolving around Alec and jewelry? Maybe him wearing magnus' or pieces gifted to him by Magnus?

Hi! Thanks for the ask. Hope you like this

—

Alexander doesn’t do it on purpose. Not the first time, or the second: not even after a dozen times. But then instinct becomes habit and Alexander continues.

So Magnus learns to watch as Alexander gets ready to leave and how he hesitates. It doesn’t matter if Magnus is awake or sleeping, in the room or getting ready himself, but Alec will lingers.

Alexander will pace around the room and touches different items. He’ll straighten pictures and brush his fingers over specific items, and no matter how often he does it, Magnus still hasn’t figured out why.

And then Alexander wallows, feet pausing by Magnus’ vanity and his fingers petting over the various trinkets there.

He sorts Magnus’ makeup brushes, and stacks whatever eyeshadow has been left out. Sometimes he even sharpens Magnus’ eyeliner, as if his magic doesn’t do it for him.

And then he hovers over the jewelry. Lifting pieces out and putting them back in and sometimes he takes nothing and other times Magnus hides a smile as Alexander pockets a piece of jewelry.

Magnus knows it will be returned the next time Alexander is back, as if it has never left. And something else will be gone in it’s place, little tokens Alexander takes of Magnus.

It takes time. But slowly instead of pocketing the jewelry, Alexander wears it instead.

Magnus remembers the first time he notices, and truly, since he pays such ardent attention to Alexander, he thinks it must be the first time at all.

It’s a bracelet. A hand carved wooden bracelet, polished to perfection and carved with little verses of good fortune.

It peeks out of Alexander’s shirt sleeve and Magnus wants to leave a mark on Alec’s wrist, so that he’ll have two reminders of Magnus.

When they smile at each other across the table that night, somehow, it’s even softer, but deeper.

It starts to happen more frequently, though not always, until Magnus enters the Institute on a priority call.

Alexander is standing shirtless in the command center, hes already handing off the shreds of a T-shirt and is zipping up a sleeveless, leather vest. There is a wound healing on his chest and a still raw, newly drawn iratze on his hip.

One of Magnus arm cuffs is snugly curled around Alexander’s bicep. It fits there, as tight as a lovers grip and defines the muscles even more when Alexander moves.

Magnus licks his lips and tries not to also remember the long silver chain looped around Alexander’s neck, or the pendant tucked into the curl of his chest hair.

He wants. In a way that he’s very unused to. So much so that it takes everything he has not to fuck Alexander against the main console of the mission room. Instead he tucks himself close, letting his fingers dip into the sliver of space between vest and pants and greedily pets warm skin.

This is a temptation Magnus can no longer bear and he promises himself that the next time before Alexander leaves, Magnus will drapes Alexander in marks and jewelry himself, and then admire the art he’s made later.

#shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #immortal husbands #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #my ficlets #my fics #my writing #shadowhunters au #words are a weapon and i do with them what i can #anon answered #anon prompt #draped in splendor #lumine writes

[solarisrasa]

Two Feet, More or Less

A bit of Malec Smut feat. poorly planned pranks with shrinking potions.

Rated M for obvious reasons. Includes a brief touch of dysphoria/body discomfort.

 When Jace asked about the shrinking potion, amidst a hundred questions about the contents of his apothecary, Magnus hadn’t given it much thought. He’d only stressed the importance of ensuring one also had growth potion on hand, just in case. The ensuing conversation about the dangers of growing one      specific    part of the body didn’t bear repeating anyhow.

 When he noticed the innocent little bottle of gray liquid was a little emptier than he remembered, he sighed and made a note to double-check Sherman’s well being. He never thought that Jace would use it on his own      parabatai.  

 Alexander, notably supposed to be in a meeting, threw open the apothecary door with a murderous expression. Magnus, not a man often cowed and      never    on the receiving end of his darlings full temper, started.

 “Alexan-”

 “No. Don’t- don’t you-” but Magnus could see that his anger was already fading and it made his heart clench. Alec never could stay mad when they were in the same room, not unless it was      serious.    It was an affliction they both shared.

 It occurred to him, watching as Alec’s angry expression smoothed into simple exasperation that the face he so loved was at least two feet lower than it should’ve been.      Oh. Jace.  

 “Darling, you’re a little,” Magnus was trying not to smile, especially as Alexander stalked over to him and it became clearer, but he failed, “well, little.”

 “I’m going to kill Jace.”

 Magnus was a strong man but he couldn’t let that one go, “Well, when you can reach him again.”

 Alexander’s glare had not dulled, if anything the new angle made it appear sharper.

 “I’m sorry, Alexander, but you have to admit it’s a little funny.”

 “Magnus.      Clary    is taller than me right now.      Clary.    ”

 Magnus grinned, “I’m sure she enjoyed that.”

 “Yes, everyone took pictures. I feel ridiculous and so out of sorts it’s not…” Alec bit his lip and some of the humor went out of things as Magnus watched him shift uncomfortably before stepping with far more care than normal to get closer.

 “By everyone?”

 Alec cleared his throat, “Alright, not      everyone.    Jace didn’t want to actually hurt me or my-don’t you dare- my standing. No one important saw me. Just family, and Simon. And Underhill but he honestly just looked frightened.”

 Magnus laughed, concern easing a bit, “He probably thought it was a sex thing gone wrong or something and is worried what Lorenzo’s going to ask from him.” He gave Alec a gentle look, noting the distance that remained between them, “Are you alright?”

 Alec looked down, and like this Magnus truly couldn’t see enough of his expression to know what he was thinking. He raised his hand, ready to snap the growth potion up and draft a very pointed speech for Jace about boundaries, when Alexander spoke.

 “I’m alright. I don’t think I’d like most people seeing me like this and I wouldn’t have chosen it myself but,” Alec took a deep breath and closed the steps between them before looking up, “there is one benefit I didn’t think of.”

 Magnus’ breath caught as he looked down at his husband. Like this Alec would fold into his arms in a way his taller self didn’t, like this he could surround him completely if he wanted. He loved Alexander as he was and he didn’t think he’d like Alec to be so much shorter for long, but right now?

 He opened his arms and Alec stepped into his hold, hands tightening in the fabric of Magnus’ linen shirt just under his shoulder blades. Magnus melted a little, feeling how Alec pressed his cheek against his heartbeat and relaxed.

 “How long until it wears off on it’s own?”

 Magnus hummed and curved his arm to card through Alexander’s hair, “Given how much Jace used, not more than a couple hours.”

 Alec’s shoulders tightened and Magnus started to pull away but his husband’s grip tightened, “Can we, uh, can we just go to bed early?”

 “You don’t want the growth potion?” Magnus checked, leaning away enough to see more of Alec’s expression. He looked a little embarrassed but certain as he shook his head.

 “Alright. Then allow me.”

 Magnus moved quickly and scooped Alexander into his arms. He’d carried him before, short distances or when he was injured, but this was different. Alec was solid but he was lighter, smaller and Magnus didn’t need as much aid, both from Alexander himself and his magic. By the hitch of Alec’s breath and the way his husband curled into him, those differences didn’t go amiss.

 He didn’t say anything about it but they had barely made it into the living room before Alec was leaning up to press open-mouthed kisses against his collarbone, tugging the loose neckline of his shirt out of the way. Magnus shivered, prepared to continue to the bedroom until Alec laved his tongue over Magnus’ pulse point, using Magnus’ shoulders to pull himself close.

 He groaned and moved them so Alec was pressed tightly against one of the pillars, his legs wrapped around Magnus’ hips. It was a position they’d been in before, but with several key differences. For one, Alec didn’t have to duck awkwardly to kiss him or bite at his throat and his heels brushed new places on Magnus’ body. The thing that took the low heat in Magnus’ blood and burst it into an inferno though, was how Magnus’ body blanketed Alexander’s fully. The potion had reduced all of his proportions and he fit snugly between the wall and Magnus.

 “Alexander.” Magnus breathed, tilting his head as his husband worried marks over his throat. His fingers flexed against Alec’s hips and he adjusted them so the angle gave them both more friction. Alec made a strangled noise and thrust against him with a loud groan.

 “You’re...fuck.” Alec mumbled, biting at his collarbone again, “You’re so      big.”  

 And oh, but didn’t that twist into something hungry and      alive    in Magnus’ stomach.

 “Do you want more?”

 “Please. Like this Magnus, just like this.”

 Magnus was happy to oblige, snapping away most of their clothes to rut against his husband, letting his cock drag against Alec’s thighs, his cock. Alec was panting into the searing kisses Magnus dropped against his lips, sucking at his tongue and moaning as Magnus used his hold to move Alec’s hips.

 Magnus couldn’t force himself to let go of Alec, especially after he snapped away their underwear and could see the way his fingers fit into the curve of his hips. He was mesmerized by the way that Alec’s body surged against his at the slightest guiding pressure of his grip and the way that Alexander flushed and moaned.

 “Magnus, please. I-I want...you’re      so    much bigger.”

 He was right, Magnus thought, half-delirious. Like all of him Alec’s cock was smaller, still beautiful and still proportionate but beside Magnus’ it was clear how Magnus might feel inside his husband.

 “Hush love, I’ll give you what you want.” His magic rushed to his aid, both to ease the strain on his arms from holding Alexander and to tease over his hole. Alec made a noise like a wounded animal and tried to push back into the feeling. The brick facade at his back stopped part of the motion and Magnus’ firm hold stopped the rest, leaving Alec to make desperate sounds into Magnus’ throat as he returned his mouth to the hot skin there.

 Magnus guided his magic to open him quickly but not so rapidly that the sweet burn of it didn’t leave Alec half-begging for more. As soon as he was confident it wouldn’t hurt Alexander, Magnus lifted him higher, relishing the way that Alec’s legs spread around him and tightened in anticipation. He slid into the tight heat of his love’s body and watched as Alec’s mouth fell open around a choked breath.

 “Gods.” Magnus moaned, pressing his forehead to Alexander’s hair and listening to his husband sigh happily as they adjusted. Without his magic, Magnus was certain they would’ve fallen by now.

 Magnus rolled his hips and Alexander clutched at his shoulders. As he drew back and snapped his hips Alec chased the feeling of fullness, “Please, Magnus, fuck...fuck I was right...you’re-”

 Magnus snapped his hips forward and immediately had to pause to get ahold of himself. The movement alone had bounced Alec and that was...it was a lot.

 “You’re so big like this.” Alec whispered to him, sounded awed and overwhelmed and what little control Magnus had clung to snapped.

 He lifted Alec high enough that he could fuck into him properly, leaving Alec to cling around his shoulders, heels scrabbled at his back as he set a filthy pace, listening to the sound of their bodies meeting and Alec trying to speak nonsense as Magnus fucked him.

 The drag of Alec’s cock against his stomach added a point of heat between them and with a simple clench of Alec’s body as his nails dug into Magnus’ shoulders, Alec came between them, nearly sobbing out Magnus’ name.

 It took only seconds for Magnus to follow after, overwhelmed by the hot clutch of Alec’s body and the trembling of his husband in his arms.

 After Magnus laid him down in their bed and cleaned him, first with magic, and then with a warm cloth, too soothe more than anything since the majority of the mess was gone. He didn’t say anything for a long while, letting Alec lay with his eyes shut. When he finished and Alexander still didn’t open them, though he was certainly awake, he climbed into bed and summoned a light snack and water.

 “Are you hungry?”

 “A little” Alec didn’t look.

 “Alexander-”

 “I don’t-” Alec shifted against their sheets, “I don’t want to see myself.”

 Magnus didn’t know what to say in the moment. Had Alec not wanted them to take things as far as they had? Magnus      knew    he was uncomfortable he shouldn’t’ve-

 “I loved being surrounded by you like that, but I don’t want to look at myself and see. I don’t think I could handle it right now. It’ll make me feel like...not me? Does that make sense?”

 Magnus touched the tips of his fingers lightly to Alec’s cheek and smiled gently, he should’ve thought about that, he supposed.

 “You feel wrong-bodied when you see yourself right now?” Alec nodded, “That’s perfectly understandable Alexander. Let me help you eat a little and then we can sleep. You’ll be set to rights when we wake.”

 Alec gave him a smile that could’ve melted stone and Magnus pressed a kiss to it, helpless.

 In the morning light Magnus found himself curled against all six plus feet of his husband and he hummed happily. Alexander dropped a kiss on his forehead.

 “You won’t want me to do that again will you?”

 Magnus scoffed, opening his eyes to meet Alexander’s hazel gaze, “I’d love you at five foot nothing as much as I love you now, but no. I prefer you as yourself, comfortable with me naked and tall enough to make shower sex difficult.”

 Alec gave him a playful glare, “I don’t know why you insist on trying ridiculous positions when there’s water involved.”

 Magnus smacked a kiss to his cheek and slid out of bed with a wink, “Adventure, love! Don’t worry, I’ll spare you this morning, we had plenty of adventure yesterday.”

 Alec smiled at him where he had relaxed back into golden pillows, “If there’s anything else in your potion stash you’re thinking about “adventuring” with, please don’t let Jace be the one to deliver them.”

 Magnus rolled his eyes, but paused to give Alexander a long look.

 “You sure you’re okay?”

 Alec seemed to sink further into their bed, happy and soft in the warm light of mid-morning, “I’m sure. Thank you for taking care of me.”

 “Always.” Magnus blew him a kiss and watched him purse his lips to mock catch it.

 “Go, shower. I’m going to lay here and be grateful for my body.”

 Magnus grinned, “Well...if you join me we could be grateful for it together?”

 “Magnus! You promised!”

 “Now, now. Alexander, I never said I wouldn’t try. Besides, not everything requires crazy positions and I’m feeling like a breakfast appetizer.”

 Alec’s scandalized expression made him laugh the whole way into the shower, though not as hard as the disgruntled but expectant look he got when Alec joined him a moment later.

#Malec #Malec Fanfiction #malec smut #smut #Magnus Bane #Alec Lightwood #Shadowhunters #Potion mishaps #Two feet more or less

[ratcatcher0325]

Alexander I think if ACTUALLY WATCH THE FUCKING MUSICAL H A M I L T O N you out of ALL people would appreciate it.

The main character remindS me A LOT OF YOU. LIKE A CARBON COPY BUT IN HUMAN PROPORTIONS IN TERMS OF HEIGHT.

Just after reading the ask , ask Natalie if you could watch it with her on disney plus and tell me what you think.

Sincerely

ANON

To the mini laywer who will someday change the world...

My god, Anon! It would seem there are incredibly strong feelings surrounding this musical.

That nasally man with the absurdly small ponytail reminds you of me? We look nothing alike! I'm not sure yet wether to be insulted or flattered. I'd like to hope the quality of my singing doesn't sound quite so much like my nose is pinched. But I suppose it's unfair of me to develop judgments without watching it, hm?

You're really going to insist that I suffer through three hours of Natalie scream-singing along to some absurd musical performance about historical figures from two hundred-odd years ago? You realize I have a finite life span and that those three hours could be spent doing something I actually like? Oh... Oh no. Look what you've done Anon...

Natalie, stop it! Stop grinning at me like that. (She's discovered your ask, you see). You've planted the seed. There's no going back now. I'm going to end up watching this thing aren't I? Dear god, what have I ever done to be tested in this way??? Oh, she's reaching for me to pluck me off the desk.... I'm doomed, Anon doomed!

[Three Hours Later...]

Hello again... I... I have now watched Hamilton. I suppose... it was a passable piece of entertainment. I admit to seeing some parallels between we two Alexanders. The music wasn't all bad. Not a total waste of time, at least...

Oh my god! Nope, I'm taking this over. Sorry, little man! Come here, into the shirt pocket you go. Oh, he's so pissed off at me right now... Hey, stop kicking and screaming, you're okay. If you're not gonna tell them the truth, I will. Anon, he's not being honest with you at all. He LOVED IT. He absolutely LOVED IT. You should have seen the little grin on his face after the first five minutes. He sat in my lap, clutching my fingers and taking in every second, his little blue eyes as wide as could be. He bounced to the rhythms, he cackled at the jokes... Anon, he wept like a little baby. He cried during Satisfied, he cried during History Has its Eyes on You, he cried during Hurricane, he cried during Burn, he cried at the end. Anon, I'm telling you, this was the best thing you could have ever suggested. He's head over heels. I can't believe I never thought to show it to him, before, but you're right, it's like the perfect story for him to appreciate. I have this feeling someone is going to be listening to the cast recording on repeat in the coming days. Thank you for pushing him out of his comfort zone!

I... I've been put back down before the phone again and... I will not waste my time confirming nor denying these accusations. Such self-preservation tactics are beneath me. Excuse me while I hunt about Natalie's cluttered desk for one of her bluetooth headphones for a completely unrelated to this conversation reason.

Your Obedient Servant....

Er, wait, no.

Yours Truly,

Alexander

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

7 Snippets 7 People Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @tabswrites! :D

Here are seven snippets from Silver Glass (contains spoilers, obviously. Also contains homophobia, someone being forced into marrying someone they hate, murder, and descriptions of horribly-mutilated corpses):

1.

If Reverend and Mrs. Grantley knew what was happening under their noses they would probably die of shock.

Lennox — Alexander — is only in Cambridge for three days. (Five, if you count the night he arrived and the morning he leaves.) Then he's going to visit some relatives in Scotland. David tells himself it's for the best, that he is just as infatuated as Louis and in a few weeks he'll have forgotten about Alexander. He can't quite make himself believe it.

Alexander spends two days mostly with Reverend Grantley and other ministers, discussing dates and places that go over David's head. He can't find an excuse to hang around the house for long after breakfast, so he reluctantly leaves. He goes to the library and the cinema, but spends most of the time daydreaming about following Alexander to Scotland.

On the second day he also learns Alexander's age. He spends that night using all the maths he knows to try to reduce the difference between being born in September 1894 and being born in December 1897.

On the third day he volunteers to show Alexander around Cambridge.

"Of course, of course," Reverend Grantley says. He beams at David. "It's good to see you're making friends, Eames."

David's face heats up as his mind conjures up images of exactly how friendly he'd like to become with Alexander.

2.

In hindsight they were far too careless. They assumed that because no one had discovered them yet, that meant no one would discover them ever.

David can't remember what they were talking about. He remembers sitting on Alec's coat spread as an improvised blanket, next to Alec with his head on Alec's shoulder. He remembers really wanting to kiss him. And he remembers Alec kissing him back.

They end up lying on the ground. David is half on top of Alec. They're still kissing. Alec wraps his arms around David's waist and pulls him completely on top of himself. David can't wait any longer. He starts to unbutton Alec's shirt. Alec reaches for David's belt.

"Jesus H. Christ!"

They disentangle themselves and leap to their feet at the first word. David's vain hope that the newcomer hadn't got a good look at what they were doing dies when he sees who it is.

Gwladys Whare has just appeared at the side of the summer-house. From where she's standing she had a perfect view of them. And there was really no way to mistake what they'd been doing.

She stares at them both as if they're something she's scraped off her shoe. Alec rebuttons his shirt. David tries to smooth his hair down into something approaching respectability. A profoundly awkward silence descends.

Alec breaks it. "Miss Whare, I apologise for— We had no idea you were nearby. I beg you not to speak of this to anyone."

Miss Whare begins to smile. Her smile widens into something truly sadistic. "Oh, I bet you do. But what if I go right back to the house and tell them all? Maybe you can buy your way outta trouble, but your little tart will go right to jail."

David has never seen Alec so furious. He advances on her with a downright murderous expression. Her eyes widen and she clearly begins to regret the chance that brought her here. David wraps his arms around Alec's chest and holds him back.

Alec stops, but he doesn't relax. "What do you want?" he practically spits at her. "Money?"

Miss Whare recovers. Her cruel grin returns. "'Course. But more than that. My pa wants me to marry one of you lords with your fancy titles. Problem is, you lot don't seem so eager to marry me."

"I can't imagine why," David says under his breath.

"Now here you are. A lord with a title, and a secret that could send you to prison. Even if you bribe the police, I can go to the papers and ruin you in a day. So how about it? I get a title, you get money, I keep your secret, and you can keep him around to warm your bed. Lord knows I won't do it any more than I have to."

There's a stunned silence. David can't believe what he's hearing. Alec is shaking.

"Are you blackmailing me into marrying you?"

Miss Whare nods as if there's nothing unusual about the situation. David would like to punch her in her smug face.

"Think about it," she says. "Answer me tomorrow. If it's no, I'll phone the police."

3.

The clock chimes six. It's still dark outside. The room is cold and Alec is warm, but Davit forces himself to get up anyway. The servants will be along soon to light the fires. It won't matter if they find his own bed empty, but it most certainly will matter if they find him in Alec's.

Alec gets up too. He buttons Davit's shirt for him. They hold each other's gaze. It feels like they have an entire conversation in silence. Alec smooths the wrinkles out of Davit's shirt. He's wearing only his dressing gown, and it leaves a v-shaped portion of his chest exposed. Davit pulls it closed, then brushes a strand of hair away from Alec's eyes.

He takes the ring out of his pocket and puts it on.

"When are you going to tell her?" he asks.

Alec flinches. "It'll have to be early. Before she has time to tell anyone." He turns abruptly and goes over to his desk. He rummages through it until he finds his cheque book. "There's a house in London. Belonging to my father, but I use it when I'm in town and my father never leaves home any more. I'm giving it to you. Here's two thousand pounds— No, I won't take any argument. You should have much more; everything I own is yours now." He finds a writing pad and begins to scribble a letter. "This is to the housekeeper telling her that you have my full permission to live there."

"You'd better give a reason," Davit says, moving over to lean against the back of Alec's chair. "Tell her I'm your research assistant and gathering information on Orthodox Christianity."

Alec addresses the envelope and seals it. "I'll post this today. We... We can't spend too much time together. Nothing to give her more against us."

Davit sits down beside Alec — difficult when the chair was only meant for one. He ends up in Alec's lap. Neither of them is complaining.

He buries his face in the crook of Alec's neck. Alec pulls him close and holds onto him like a drowning man clinging to a rope.

4.

He and Alec have only one short meeting in private before Alec leaves too. They meet in the garden again and make their own arrangements: Davit will live in London until Alec divorces Gwladys. Alec is optimistic it shouldn't take too long. This shows every indication of being the shortest marriage in history.

"I know she's already writing to another man," Alec says. "As long as we stay apart she'll have no evidence against me."

Davit is slightly less optimistic. Once Gwladys has her claws in Alec, he can't imagine her letting go easily. "What if you have a child?"

Alec makes a disgusted face. "There's no chance of that. I have no intention of ever consummating this marriage."

"If you don't she'll use that against you." Davit pulls leaves off a stem of ivy clinging to the old summer house. "Consummate the marriage, play the loving husband when others are around, make sure she has nothing she can use against you."

Alec looks at him in surprise. Davit can guess what he's thinking. That this is odd advice for him to give. But Davit knows Gwladys is a genuine threat to both of them. The best way to deal with threats is with deceit.

"What do you want to do as soon as I get the divorce?" Alec asks.

Davit knows it won't be nearly as easy as that. But for once he allows himself to dream. "I'd like to travel. Visit Armenia. I've never been there."

"You're not from Armenia?"

He shakes his head. As he answers he can almost smell the blood and death and fire. "I was born in Adana."

From Alec's lack of reaction he can tell he doesn't recognise the name.

"We could go there too," Alec suggests.

Davit forces a laugh. "No. I wouldn't like that at all."

He doesn't look at Alec, but he knows Alec is staring at him.

"Davit? Davit, what's wrong?"

Ever since that night Alec has called him Davit. Sometimes he forgets how to pronounce it and says it like David with a T.

Davit rubs his eyes. He isn't crying, but his eyes sting. Alec puts his arm around him and pulls him close. He doesn't say anything. Davit takes a deep breath. He rests his chin on Alec's shoulder so he can't see his face.

"Have you heard of the Adana massacre?" he asks. His voice is flat. His chest feels like it's going to cave in.

Alec inhales sharply. "I remember now." He tightens his arms around Davit. "You were there?"

Davit nods. "I can't talk about it."

They say nothing for a while. Alec simply holds Davit, and Davit tries to piece himself back together.

5.

Yo-han had witnessed some grisly spectacles in his career. The man whose chest had been sawn open and all his internal organs removed held the title for the most grisly. He had fierce competition, though, including the woman who had lost half of her face in a bear attack, the man who had spilled acid on his arms, and Rachael Patton-Langdale with a chunk blown out of her skull.

His history gave him an advantage. He could examine the murder victims relatively impassively while the police constable was trying not to be sick.

Both victims were hung by the neck from different branches of the tree. Both ropes had been cut from the same length of rope, which was unusually thick and had probably been taken from a boat. The bodies had been dragged over to the tree from somewhere across the lawn.

Victim one: Mrs. Lennox. She was fully dressed in a plain white frock, not an evening dress. Her hair had been pinned up. Now most of it hung loose and was matted with blood. Her expression was mildly surprised but not frightened. She hadn't seen her death coming.

She had been struck in the back of the head with a heavy, blunt object. The murderer had hit her with such force that part of her skull had caved in.

Victim two: Çelik Bey. He was shirtless. His face was contorted into a ghastly silent scream. He had certainly seen his death coming.

It was a cliché of crime novels to say someone's throat had been cut from ear to ear. Yet that was the only way to describe it. The murderer had slashed so deeply into his neck that they had almost decapitated him. The rope holding him up was looped around his chest under his arms, because his head would have been pulled off if the murderer tried to hang him by what remained of his neck. His chest and arms were sliced all over with shallow cuts.

Yo-han leaned in to get a closer look. All of them had been inflicted with a long, sharp blade. The cut throat had probably been inflicted with the same weapon.

He was used to gory sights. All the same, he was glad the news had arrived before he had time to have breakfast.

6.

Yo-han turned away from the safe, and almost tripped over those damn slippers again. He kicked them out of the way in annoyance. Then he stopped.

"Mrs. Lennox was wearing outdoor shoes when she died," he said slowly. "So she took off her slippers herself. But the more natural place to leave them would be near the top of the bed."

He looked at the bedside cabinet. It had a cupboard at the bottom. He placed the slippers in front of the cupboard door and tried to open it. They were in the way.

"The thief also went through Mrs. Lennox's cupboard," he said. "Why? No one keeps valuables where they can be discovered so easily."

Until now Constable Martin had been hovering awkwardly by the window, looking like he felt there was nothing for him to do but couldn't think of how to leave. Now he came over to investigate too. Eames moved to the side of the cupboard to get a better view.

Yo-han moved the slippers out of the way and opened the cupboard. It had one shelf, which had small dividers splitting it into three squares. One of the squares contained a notebook. The other two were empty.

He lifted out the notebook and flipped through it. Some pages were torn out. The rest were blank.

"Do you have a pencil?" he asked the constable.

Martin hunted through his pockets, then produced a pencil. Yo-han scribbled over the first page. Faint outlines showed through.

"I thought so! She leant heavily on the previous page and the impression came through."

"But what does it mean?" Eames asked. "Half grim? Baron nine thirds? That's not a proper fraction!"

7. 

Most women would have been alarmed to hear their neighbour had been murdered and their guest had been called in to investigate. Phil, who had accidentally caused one death and discovered a murder, was only mildly upset.

"I suppose her husband did it," she said when Mr. Seo returned for lunch.

"No, I think I can say with certainty that he's the only person I can rule out," he said, to her surprise.

The dining room windows faced over the lough. Mr. Seo looked out at the other bank as if he expected to find the answer there. "Miss Patton, do you have a boat?"

Phil sensed where this was going. "Yes, over at the jetty. You think the empty house has something to do with the case?"

Mr. Seo nodded grimly. "From there the murderer could see everything happening at the house. If I search it I'm sure I'll find proof someone was hiding there."

Phil finished her sandwich. She got up. Her brown-and-white day dress was too good for a boating expedition, but she had an old grey dress which she normally used for gardening. "Give me five minutes to change, then I'll row you across."

Tagging @violets-in-her-arms-writes, @authortango​, @saltysupercomputer, @writingat-night, @kaiusvnoir, @autumnalwalker, @cosmiccoincidence, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D

Also adding Glass’s taglist: @writingpotato07, @oh-no-another-idea, @sarahlizziewrites, @lightgriffinsect, @kittensartswriting, @acertainmoshke, @author-a-holmes, @sam-glade, @late-to-the-fandom (Let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

#tag game #writing #my writing #my WIPs #WIP: glass

[quarantineroulette]

10 Things That Somehow Didn’t Suck This Year (with a horror films sub-list).

2022 has been an unbelievably surreal and disparate year for me. On one hand, I achieved three long-running goals, visiting Barcelona, becoming a home-owner, and going on a mini-tour with my band. On the other hand, I was plagued by some of the worst periods of depression of my life and endured at least two solid months of virtually nonstop distress in which things got better for a little bit before going really hard on the mental strife. 

Due to so much weirdness going on, I didn’t listen to much music this year and I feel pretty ashamed about that (if you’re a friend and you released music this year, I intend on listening to it very soon, I swear). I’m also a little put off by critical writing in general right now but I still wanted to do some sort of year-end ranking for tradition’s sake. So here’s 10...entertainments? I appreciated this year - whether TV shows, movies, or going to gigs, even though there were a lot of those I unfortunately missed as well. Also throwing in a sub-list of favorite horror films, as those are one of the few things I can focus on even when things are completely haywire elsewhere.

*Atlanta: I really don’t consider a lot of art truly *perfect* but the Atlanta series finale -- and the entire 41-episode show, really -- absolutely was. Out of anyone in my generation, Donald Glover is far and away the *~creative~* I’m most in awe of, most of all for this singular and very special show. I’ll forever be grateful for the intelligence behind Atlanta (I really can’t think of a show James and I have discussed more), it’s unpredictability and the insane level of talent that could be found in its ridiculously stellar cast and crew. I loved everything about every minute of it, but my secret favorite episode was the one where Van has an identity crisis in Paris and Alexander Skarsgard cameos as a cross between an exaggerated version of himself and Armie Hammer. Utterly surreal, totally hilarious, and unquestionably brilliant. 

*“Punk Rock Loser” by Viagra Boys: I didn’t totally love Viagra Boys’ 2022 release Cave World but it still somehow became the album I listened to most this year, and “Punk Rock Loser” had no contest in terms of being my most listened to song. The band excels at songs about decidedly unsavory dudes, so “Punk Rock Loser” isn’t entirely new territory but it is catchy and weirdly groovy in its own little way. Plus, the music video is an instant classic, right down to the Adidas western shirt and completely silly synchronized dance routine. 

*The Rehearsal: This one is a bit of a cheat because I just watched the whole series in like three days so it’s at the forefront of my mind. But something tells me even if I had watched it three months ago I’d still be fucking reeling from it. Like, my sense of perception has been irrevocably scrambled. I need to sit in a dark room and question every interaction I’ve ever had with another human up to this point. I related to this show more than I’d like to admit and also found myself weirdly moved by it at times. Also, massive respect to Fielder for getting HBO to pay for, well, the entire thing, but especially the replica of the Alligator Lounge (although we all know Nate’s Lizard Lounge is really where it’s at). 

*Playing a show with The Veldt: We started working on new music this year so we didn’t play many shows, but we still had a fair amount of success on that front and played our first-ever gigs in the midwest (including a sold out show in Chicago). But being asked to play with criminally underrated shoegazers The Veldt was truly a high water mark (on what was unfortunately a very watery evening in Brooklyn). Had gone to see The Veldt in Philly a month prior to sharing a bill with them, and was wowed by Daniel Chavis’ stage presence and vocal delivery both times around, a pretty powerful counter to the head down aloofness that genre designation typically suggests. Totally cool and lovely guys to boot.

*Warren Ellis - Nina Simone’s Gum: See my previous post, but in short, this book is mesmerizing. What I assumed would be a fairly straightforward rock memoir instead was a loving tribute to Ellis’ idols, providing a lot of insight into collecting and the power we imbue certain objects with and why. Absolutely solidified my opinion that Ellis is one of the most beautiful souls (I mean, he started a sanctuary for wildlife with special needs for god’s sake!) 

*Aldous Harding at Union Transfer: Pretty much the only new music I listened to this year was the aforementioned Viagra Boys, Fontaines DC and Aldous Harding, and I was fortunate enough to see two out of three of these artists live in 2022 (Viagra Boys, maybe next year). Aldous Harding had been at the top of my gig-going wishlist pre-pandemic, so I feel especially grateful that seeing her became a reality this year. It often feels a bit weak to say “OMG I went to see (x) and they sounded just like the album,” but in Aldous’ case, this is kind of an extraordinary compliment, seeing as she sings as about a dozen different characters on her new record, sometimes flipping back and forth over several different vocal styles in a single song. Add to this Harding’s obscure yet very purposeful stage presence and that equals me being enraptured for 90 minutes straight. Had an excellent time pre-gaming at the awesome go-go cocktail bar The Trestle Inn beforehand as well. 

*Intermission: My 10 (actually 11) Favorite Horror Films of 2022

Yeah yeah yeah. Everyone has said it, it’s been a great year for horror. It’s always been my favorite genre and I’ve embraced it even harder since the pandemic for whatever reason. So, just like everyone else is doing, here are my 10 favorites that I’ve seen this year. I didn’t see everything, but I’ve seen enough to have some authority on what was good, maybe...

1) Pearl - Mia Goth’s unblinking stare over the end credits = haven’t been as frightened by a face since Laura Dern running toward the camera in INLAND EMPIRE. Deserves all its accolades and then some. 

2) The Menu - The cast, the setting, the dialogue, Colin Stetson’s score: everything about this was a horrible delight from start to finish. Watching Ralph Fiennes and Anya Taylor-Joy act together was thoroughly electrifying and I will never get Fiennes lobbing the insult “you donkey” at some rich asshole out of my head. 

3) Smile - I saw the trailer for this a zillion times and thought it honestly looked hilariously stupid. Zero expectations and threw me for a complete loop. Still didn’t find it that scary but it was fun as hell and the sound design was excellent. Also, I’m sorry to say I had no idea who (PA native!) Kyle Gallner was until this year but loved him in both this and Dinner in America. 

4) Men / Resurrection - Resurrection walked so Men could run, I guess. Overall, I preferred the former just because I honestly couldn’t believe my eyes for the last 20 minutes and I appreciated its mash-up of folk horror / home invasion / psychological horror / cosmic horror / body horror to the max. Resurrection had Rebecca Hall giving the most insane monologue of the year and my forever crush Tim Roth being a gaslighting sleaze-hound, and those are two things I will never shrug at. 

5) What Josiah Saw - If you ever longed for a southern gothic version of Fire Walk With Me, then head over to Shudder and take this fucked up baby for a ride immediately. Had a scene, totally free of violence or gore, that made me want to squirm right out of my skin. Robert Patrick FTW and was nice(?) to see Nick Stahl again too.

6) Watcher - Great Hitchcockian throwback with great performances by Maika Monroe and Burn Gorman and some beautiful shots of Bucharest. Tense enough that I was nervous going into the bathroom by myself when it was over. 

7) We’re All Going to the World’s Fair - To be honest, I didn’t love this when I was watching it, but jeez did it stick with me. Months after and I still feel a great sense of discomfort whenever I think about it. Not for everyone, but will thoroughly creep you out and fill you with a sense of crushing loneliness, if you’re down for that kind of thing. 

8) Something in the Dirt - Pretty much will be open to anything Moorhead and Benson do just because I find their grassroots approach to cosmic horror and world-building really inspiring. Their latest threw about a million different interests of mine into a pot so I found Something in the Dirt especially delicious. Some really low-key funny moments and I’m still trying to piece it all together but I’m so so happy these guys are out there challenging us and doing it all in such a home-spun way. 

9) Barbarian - Almost didn’t add this because the hype really got to me, but, I know -- that first half was super tense and Justin Long gave his all as perhaps the douchiest character of the year. 

10) Nope - Really wasn’t a fan of US but this was quite a return to form. Loved the set pieces and the unique take on alien design. The spoken word “Purple People Eater” bit was pretty ridiculous but I laughed all the same. The blood house was marvelous, though.

***

*“Turn Off Your Brain and Yell” by Suede: I often get anxious whenever a long-running band or artist I love releases something new, even when it’s a band I love as much as Suede, and was honestly not expecting much from their 9th release Autofiction, as it was being touted as more stripped down and less high concept and dramatic. The record is just fine but live the songs are phenomenal, particularly the fittingly cathartic “Turn Off Your Brain and Yell.” The Autofiction closer served as the band’s opener at their headlining show at Philadelphia’s The Met and it was like an emotional wildfire had just ignited. I’m certain every single neck hair of every person in that venue was standing on end from this song onward. Simply put, it fucking slammed. Anyway, this Suede / Manics US tour seemed like the ultimate dream to me on paper but unfortunately turned out a little bittersweet, but at least I can say for probably the only time ever that Michelle Obama possibly had a hand in preventing me from going backstage like I was supposed to (long story!). 

*The Bear: Didn’t think this could possibly live up to its hype, but really what a touching, funny, intense and lovingly made show. Jeremy Allen White, he seems a little like a himbo, but was completely captivated and moved by his portrayal of the emotionally complex and overwhelmed Carmy. Loved when Richie did or said pretty much anything and the (I cringe at the term) *~needle drops~* were spectacular. Ready to drink down a second season like Xanax-laced ecto-cooler. 

*Kendrick Lamar performing “Savior” at Glastonbury : I feel a bit of a faker listing this as I haven’t watched Kendrick’s Glastonbury 2022 performance in full yet (doing that over the weekend, hopefully), and I’ve only listened to Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers once. I have, however, been returning to this video over and over for months now and I love everything about it -- the lighting, minimalist stage set up -- in such stark contrast to an event as overblown as the Glastonbury festival -- the dancers, and of course the fake blood and glittery crown of thorns. Most of all, I love that the message takes precedence, as it should be but so rarely is these days. So, thank you Kendrick and all the preceding makers on this list for saying or doing something meaningful in a year that frequently felt meaningless. 

#year in review #horror #atlanta #the rehearsal #warren ellis #aldous harding #suede #the bear #the veldt #viagra boys #kendrick lamar

[renee-writer]

Letters Chapter 31

AO3

 

“There were candles everywhere.  Their light couldn’t hold a candle to your beauty.” He recalls, “The dress was brought from,” a clearing of his throat,” a lady of less than ideal morals. Ned Gowan, our banister, went to purchase it. I insisted, you see. Knowing you were less than enthusiastic about the idea, I wished to make it perfect for you. A dress, a ring, and before a priest.”

 

He chuckles. “My Uncle Dougal wasn’t happy. Said it would be easier to kill us both. A bit harder to explain, I said.”

 

She asked him to tell her of their wedding as they planned for another.

 

“I sent Angus and Rupert off to get the ring. It was made from the key to Lallybroch.”

 

“Here? Truly?”

 

A nod. “I wasn’t sure, you see, that I would get back here. There was a price on my head.” He waves the rest of. It surely doesn’t matter now, “ So I wished you to carry a part of it. The priest now, he proves to be harder to deal with.”

 

“Didn’t wish to preside over a rushed wedding?”

 

“Exactly. But we had no time to read the banns. That unholy bastard wanted you back the next day.”

 

“Being married transformed me into a Scottish lass and therefore, out of his reach?” She seeks confirmation.

 

“Aye, So it had to be done that day.  A bribe of windows allowed him to set aside his doubts and get it done.”

 

His eyes grow far away.  “You were covered with a wrap to protect the dress. When they removed it… I have never seen a more beautiful bride. It was if the sun came out from behind the clouds. You were exquisite.”

 

She smiles. “You, my groom, what were you wearing?”

 

“I was dressed in my family’s  kilt, complete with it’s tartan and brooch. It was a fair change from the way we all dressed traveling to collect rents. You scared me for a moment then.”

 

“How?”

 

“Why you said you couldn’t marry me,” he waits a beat, “as you didn’t know my name.”

 

She almost chokes on the tea she is sipping. They sit across from each other having an informal tea. “I didn’t know your name?”

 

He chuckles. “Nae. I went by Mactavish there. For protection, eh. You knew that it wasn’t my true name. So I introduced myself.” He stands, and even in the jeans and T-shirt, makes a respectable bow, “It is Fraser, my lady , James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. Your servant ma’am.”

 

She claps. “Marvelous.”

 

“Thank you.” He retakes his seat.  “You thrust your hand out. I now know for a hand shake. Then I thought you were seeking reassurance. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.” You said. I took your hand and we walked into the kirk. Candles lit up your pale face. I was equally as nervous. Your hand, shaking in mine, was a steadying presence. That you were scared too made me feel less alone.”

 

She reaches out and places her hand over his. He lays one atop it.  “The rest of the ceremony went as normal. The vows are said, the ring blessed, then before he announces us married, we do the blood vow.”

 

“The blood vow?”

 

“A small cut, Dougal did, across both our wrists, they are bond together and,” He leads out a string of Gaelic, “You are blood of my blood and bone of my bone. I give you my body that we two may be one. I give you my spirit until our life is done. “

 

“Oh.” She is charmed knowing where the words he partially recited when they first meet again, came from.

 

“Then we kissed.”

 

“Was it good?”

 

“Oh aye. I expected just a quick pressing of the lips. You leaned into it, opening up under me. Several throats were cleared to get us apart.”

 

She grins. “Brilliant. Then the honeymoon?”

 

“Aye.” His eyes are feral. Standing he walks over, lifts her up, and carries her to the great room, where he lays her on the couch.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #letters #chapter 31 #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom #modern au

[pokemon-researcher-alexander]

❥ - a childhood memory

[Alexander, sitting in a simple wooden chair. He appears to be about 9, wearing a checkered shirt with numerous patches, clearly a hand-me-down. There’s a radio straight out of the 70s on the table in front of him, and he bounces excitedly as he listens.

It’s not playing music, as one might expect, but coverage of a Pokémon battling tournament. He pays attention as the broadcast unfolds, but seems to be anxiously waiting, rather than truly invested.

The field of view pans out, revealing that the table is massive, some twenty five feet long. Around it are seated other family members; his grandparents, several aunts and uncles, and of course, innumerable cousins, some sitting on the floor instead.

There are conversations, some boisterous and others muted, and at least three card games going on, but everything stops when Alexander hushes them, in the overenthusiastic way that children do.

Every ear is poised as the color commentator begins, “Our first competitor in this next match is sure to be a familiar face for those following the minor leagues. A larger than life presence on the battlefield, and honestly in any other setting, please welcome Alexander Ironwood Jr.! A former Gym Trainer under Drayden, he hails from the far west of Unova…”

As the memory fades out, it is glaringly obvious that Alexander is the only one of Sinnohan descent. His mother is nowhere to be seen.]

#pokémon irl #pokéblogging #ask game

[muppeteyes1001]

You think Alexander cares for you? You're nothing but an emergency snack! Something for him to chow down on if he gets hungry and no one else is around. It's the only real value you have to an abomination like him.

Talk shit about someone my Muse knows.

Tonight was not a good night for the felinoid. She was sitting at a small outside table of a cafe that had already closed for the night. She knew that fully well and only came for some peace and quiet. However, it turned out to be very brief refuge when she suddenly heard someone start talking to her from behind .. And was doing so in a rather loud and rude manner.

As they spoke, Kitt didn't make a move save for a minor ear twitch and the tip of her tail curling at the sudden intrusion. Her eyes were shut and she held her face in a gloved hand .. Almost as if she were nursing a migraine. If they had simply been talking about her, she would have most likely stayed silent and ignored them. Hearing rumors about her behind her back was nothing new ... But instead, they spoke ill of someone else.

Hearing her mate's name spoken that way, the cat woman instantly removed her gloved hand from her face and slammed it onto the table top. As she made a fist, her small and dull claws began to tear through the tips of her gloves and make a few grooves onto the polished table. A soft growl escaped her throat. Turning towards the anon, her icy green eyes narrowed as they illuminated in the dark. She sharply got off from her chair and made a steady walk towards the insulting grey face. Her heeled boots making soft clicks along the pavement.

"You grey lot truly don't serve any purpose in life, do ya? ... You're all nothin' but parasites feedin' off the grief an' pain of others .. An' for what? .. For kicks? .. For laughs?"

Right then, the felinoid had reached the grey face. They were a tad taller than she was, but she didn't care .. She never did. Grabbing them roughly by the front of their shirt, the cat woman pulled them down to her eye level. Her teeth bared as she glared daggers at them.

"Don't think I didn't hear what one of your shite-headed mates did to him tonight ... An' I heard what happened to 'em right afterwards .. So guess he's havin' the last laugh then, aye?" Kitt's tone tonight sounded almost like her usual one .. But the venom that had seeped into it was noticeable .. And as she continued to speak, she would grab the anon's face with her other gloved hand. The one where her claws now poked out from.

"So pardon me if I don't .. Nor will I ever ... take any of you cretins seriously on anything ... Because from what I can plainly see ... It's you bunch of bottom feedin' ... scum suckin' .. blaggards .. who are the true abominations with the value of a soiled toe rag!!!"

Once she finished, she roughly let go of the anon's face, leaving some scratch marks .. Before delivering a sharp slap that knocked their dark glasses right off their grey face.

"An' if I ever hear you speak of Alexander that way again .. I promise you that you won't have a tongue ta speak with anymore afterwards ... Is that clear?" Kitt promptly spat out.

#anon asks #ask meme #Hoo! She went off on them XD #X3

[cecescomposition]

@febuwhump Day 3: Muzzled (with a side of Alt: Natural Disaster)

After five years in the fandom, I’ve finally given into the obligatory storm chapter. TW// depictions of a panic attack and dissociation

Alexander always found himself with quickened breath and wide eyes during thunderstorms. They were unavoidable, he knew, a simple fact of nature that allowed the climate to run its course. Even with this knowledge, Hamilton couldn’t help but feel as though every crack of thunder and flash of lightning was a personal attack on him from a God he did not believe in.

On the occasion that a storm happened upon the colonies, Alexander would find some excuse to leave the room and make his way to the aides’ chambers where he could be alone. More often than not he would end up in Laurens’s arms, trying to calm his breathing.

Tonight was no exception, and John had run to Alexander’s room at the first crash of thunder , rapping his knuckles lightly on the door. It was the middle of the night, no need to risk waking another aide, or worse, the general.

“Lex?” John whisper shouted through the door, “Are you awake?”

When he received no response, he opened the door quietly and peeked his head in.

“Alex…?”

The room appeared empty, but that couldn’t have been right. Laurens had seen Hamilton to bed himself, he should’ve been asleep. Perhaps Hamilton had been roused by the storm and was hiding somewhere.

John moved to enter the room, pushed the door all the way open and stepped over the threshold.

“Alex,” he called again, a bit loud this time. Then he heard it, a small whimper. It was so soft and so quick that Laurens wondered if he had even truly heard it.

Furrowing his brow, John rounded the desk. There, huddled between the desk and the wall, was Hamilton.

He looked a mess. His curls were flying from their cue every which way, tears were pouring down his cheeks with no sign of stopping soon. Alexander’s knees were drawn up tight to his chest as sobs wracked his body, his hands clasped over his mouth far too tight.

“Oh, Alexander,” John sighed as he kneeled in front of his friend, “Why didn’t you come and get me?”

Hamilton looked up at John, his eyes were blown wide and his chest was heaving.

“Come now,” John soothed, “Come on, give me your hands, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

John reached to take Alexander’s hands from his face, but Hamilton held firm.

“Lex, come on,” John said firmly.

Alexander shoot his head. He drew back from Laurens and hid his face behind his knees.

This was a common occurrence when they found themselves in this situation. On the occasions that Hamilton failed to retrieve Laurens before the panic attack got too severe, he found himself shutting down completely. He would hide away and end up harming himself in the process.

“Give me your hands, Alex, let me help,” John said, showing Hamilton his hands before slowly prying his own away from his face. John pulled Alexander’s hands against his chest and held tight.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re not there anymore, come back now.”

Alexander slowly uncurled himself and shifted towards John. He crawled into John’s lap and curled his hand into the fabric of his shirt.

“There we go, breathe with me now. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

Thunder clapped just outside and Hamilton buried his head into John’s soldier.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay. It’s only a storm. I promise, you’re safe with me.”

It took another two hours for Alexander to calm himself into sleep. They sat that way the entire time, Hamilton nestled safely in John’s arms, John rocking him softly with whispered comforts.

That was how Lafayette would find the pair in the morning. He should’ve woken them, there was much work to be done. But they looked so content and safe together, a rare sight that brought a smile to Lafayette’s face.

So, if he simply covered them in a small sheet and left without a word, well that was no one’s business.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday3 #febuwhump2023 #alexander hamilton #marquis de lafayette #john laurens #panic attack #hamilton fanfiction #prompt challenge

[alexanderlightweight]

I don't so much have a prompt for Wednesday as a Vibe: something something eldritch angels and the realization that people who are half-angel are as far from human as the people who are half-demon

Ooh so I had some good fun with this Jilly but like. You promoted me that and I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT ELDRITCH NEPHILIM. Especially because of all the wasted potential on the show. So it ended up being a two-shot but only part of it is written so here we go. I hope you enjoy

—

Magnus shivers when he finally gets Alexander's hands on his skin. And not only for the reason he’d hoped.

“Darling,” Magnus murmurs against cool lips, “why are you so cold?”

He pulls Alexander closer, hands greedily untucking Alec's shirt and caressing every inch of skin he can.

“Same reason—“ and something gets cut off as Alexander gasps, “same reason you’re so hot.”

Magnus pauses, refusing to let himself get distracted by Alexander’s kisses and the way he keeps trying to crawl under Magnus’ skin.

“What does you being cold have to do with me being attractive?”

Alexander is dazed with pleasure and adorable when confused, his brow furrowing as he visibly stops himself from chasing Magnus’ lips.

“I meant your temperature. It’s similar to how yours is so high because of your demon blood.”

And Magnus is a little too shocked about Alexander being so comfortable with his demonic heritage to parse that out.

“What do you mean by my demon blood?”

“Isn’t it why you’re so warm?” Alec looks truly lost at this point. “Our angelic blood is why we’re so cold?” And Alec frowns, “I just kind of assumed it was similar.”

“…”

Magnus lets the silence speak for himself and then he’s pulling Alexander to the couch, shoving him down and crawling into his lap.

Large hands happily grip his thighs but the cool brush of skin against his waist keeps him from being distracted.

”No—“ Magnus says when Alexander tilts his face up for a kiss, “no! Alexander don’t be cute right now. I can’t take it.”

And then Magnus is giving in and kissing the hurt confusion off of Alexander’s lips. Just for a moment before he forces himself to lean back. He keeps his hand on Alexander's chest, pushing him against the back of the couch.

“Darling, I think I need to know a few things before we continue. Does it hurt you that I’m so warm?”

Alexander looks like he wants to push Magnus to the floor and continue what Magnus started. Which is exactly why Magnus is sitting on his lap and keeping him exactly where he needs to be.

Under Magnus.

So that if this conversation gets difficult, he can’t bolt.

Because this is still new and Magnus doesn’t know when he’ll push too far, and he’s going to be careful while he figures it out.

Alec takes a deep, centering breath and Magnus mourns the loss of composure as clarity returns.

Alexander is a little tense, blush high on his cheeks as he shifts. He’s still hard and Magnus reminds himself not to make this harder — pun absolutely intended — on both of them.

“No?” And Alec tilts his head consideringly, like he’s trying to figure out how to answer Magnus in the way Magnus wants.

Magnus raises a very unimpressed eyebrow and Alexander sighs, head lolling back so he’s staring at the ceiling instead.

“No. It doesn’t hurt me. It’s nice actually, you being so warm. I thought it was because you’re a warlock.” And Alexander sounds young and a bit confused, “is it not?”

“I’m not sure.” Magnus admits because while he does tend to run warm to his partners, he’s not sure it’s specifically a warlock trait. At least, not in the way Alexander is thinking.

“Wait, is everyone else warm?” And Alexander brings his head down to meet Magnus’ gaze. “Is it just nephilim that are cold?” And then something seems to occur to him, “Magnus, am I too cold for you?”

And he looks devastated and Magnus can’t help it, he chuckles and nips Alexander's mouth.

“Do I seem like I’m not enjoying myself?” Magnus presses a kiss to the swell of Alexander lip, “I’m very happy, lovely. After all, I am quite hot.”

And Magnus delights in the little dazed laugh it earns him and he wonders just how many secrets Alexander has to reveal.

—

“How did you never know?” Magnus asks, marveling as he traces Alexander’s veins and feels the touch of ice under them.

Despite how this evening was going, Magnus never thought he’d have Alexander naked on his bed while they discussed biology.

They’re lying side by side and Magnus hasn’t lain like this, naked and bare without sex as a distraction with anyone in a very long time.

And Alexander huffs at him, “well I haven’t actually touched anyone who wasn’t a nephilim before. And I haven’t touched anyone like this.”

He seems a little defensive, like it’s something that might be mocked instead of an act of trust.

It’s a privilege.

That Alexander wants and wants to be wanted by Magnus in a way Alec hasn’t allowed before.

It makes Magnus want to assure him they can take their time and also makes him want to cut out the tongues of anyone who ever made Alexander think otherwise.

However Alexander also looks so very vulnerable, and Magnus won’t allow him to think this is a rejection.

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Magnus says and he means ‘with you’. “Would it help if I told you how delighted that makes me? That you would trust me to be closer to you than anyone else?”

Trust like that is rare in their world and Alexander softens, like he understands that Magnus sees his vulnerability for the priceless gift it is.

“Now, first darling.” Because Magnus has to brush the curls from his eyes and cup his jaw. “What else do I need to know? Tell me anything you think is normal or anything you’ve noticed is different from me, hmm?”

Alec takes his time, his fingers playing with Magnus necklaces as he thinks.

“Our activated runes enhance things to a degree but once they’re permanent, the effects don’t ever go away entirely. Sometimes I think I hear and smell things you don’t.”

Which was a fact Magnus did not know.

“We bleed like ice, it leaves frost everywhere. Izzy slipped with these stupid heels she insisted on wearing three times on her own blood before I banned them.” And Alexander rolls his eyes, “she’s elegant and well-balanced even in those things but they’re shit in a fight. She had a heel break once when she tried to stab a demon's chest with it. Tried to convince me to let her commission heels made of adamas.”

And Alec sighs like just the memory is exhausting. “I said no. Obviously. It would have been just my luck if she forgot which pair and wore them to her latest seelie-flavor of the month.”

Magnus croons and presses a kiss to the cold, sluggish pulse of Alexander's wrist.

“Sounds terribly inconvenient. I’m all for having a good time in a pair of heels, mind you, but there is a time and place.”

“Exactly! And you, you always look like, well like you.” And Alexander is blushing like he’s singing a sonnet instead of stuttering over Magnus’ entire being. “And you’re smart about it, practical. Just because you always look incredible doesn’t mean you aren’t safe about it.”

“Yes.” Magnus says, quite pleased. “I am me and I’m rather flawless at it.”

Alexander is grinning and he just cuddles closer; like he can’t handle the few inches between them. They take a moment before Alec takes a little breath and continues.

“We can smell other nephilim. Taste their blood. It’s how we knew what Fray was, why we brought her to the Institute. I’m not sure what her mother did to her, but she’s not adapting to her nephilim blood being activated very well. Idris’ medical teams are going to have her blood and abilities sealed if it doesn’t get any better. There is a reason we’re not supposed to live in the mundane world.

“We eat different things. Need different things. I—“ and Alexander pauses, probably because of Magnus’ expression. “Is this not common knowledge?” And Magnus shakes his head because it most certainly is not, but it also explains some difficulties his dear friend Tessa has had.

“Mundane poisons don’t affect us, most poisons don’t unless they’re demonic and even then they have to be pretty potent.

“Different families have different powers. I know someone who can see and speak to all ghosts, it’s how they figured out he was a Herondale.”

“Oh? And what mysterious powers are you hiding?” Magnus is honestly curious but Alec looks a little horrified. “Is it some nephilim taboo to ask?” He asks carefully and Alexander sighs and shakes his head.

“No, and I want to show you but—“ he pauses, “I’m, this is really new and I’m not sure I should summon random weapons to your bed.”

“My loft is warded against anything being summoned without my permission.” Magnus tells him and then bites back his smirk when Alexander focuses too much on Magnus’ jewelry.

“Alexander; can you summon things into my loft?” He asks, gently and not accusatory because Alec looks like he’s committed a grave crime.

“I mean, it is tied to my blood and soul, Magnus. Nothing can keep a weapon from a Trueblood. It’s why the Lightwood’s married my mother.” He shrugs, like the idea of his being born is for the purpose of his talents isn’t awful. “I mean, that didn’t work out like how they planned considering—“ and Alexander motions between them both with a sly grin.

“Izzy and Max got the Lightwood abilities and I got the Trueblood.”

He shrugs like this isn’t a big deal, “it’s why my parents were so big on me getting married and having kids.” And Magnus wants to bite and gnash something between his teeth but the only thing in reach is Alexander.

Which while tempting would completely derail the conversation. And Magnus is already struggling to stay on track when he wants to kiss Alexander everywhere and find out if he gets even colder when aroused.

“Well that’s not happening.” Magnus can’t help but say and it feels a bit too soon, a bit too possessive for how new they are. Alexander however lights up, like Magnus is giving him a priceless treasure for how greedy Magnus is over him.

“Oh?” Magnus asks, delight and avarice in his voice, “do you like that darling. That I wouldn’t let you go to marry some nephilim girl and have more shadowhunter babies? That I’m going to keep you for myself?” Magnus licks his lips and presses their forwards together so he won’t see Alexander’s face as he takes a risk.

“That I would burn the flesh of any who touched you. Gouge out the eyes of all who look at you and want. That I’ll fight the whole of the clave and lock you up here if it means getting to keep you.”

It’s too soon. It’s so far beyond what Magnus normally lets himself express. But it’s been decades upon decades of holding himself back and locking away his heart. And Magnus wants and if Alexander shies away, better now when Magnus can still survive than later when it will be more than he can take.

He’ll barely be able to take it now if Alec flinches from this part of him.

“Yeah.” Alexander rasps, breath cool against Magnus’ jaw. “Yeah, Magnus. I— that’s, I like that. A lot.” His voice is a little rough, a little unsteady and Magnus’ entire being thrums with pleasure at Alexander's eager acceptance.

“We uh, there is a reason that they tried bribery and blackmail to get me to marry and then gave up.”

Which Magnus did not know but he’s definitely going to remember.

“Nephilim are a bit… we can go a bit mindless during pleasure. Some of our instincts come out. And the stronger the blood—“ Alec shrugs. “There’s a reason Izzy sticks to nephilim and seelies instead of branching out.”

“Oh, and I don’t need to worry because?” Magnus asks leadingly because he’s curious and he already knows that he doesn’t have to worry. He just wants to know why.

Alexander looks a little confused, “because I trust you? Any instincts I lose control of are going to be because of pleasure not—“ and Alexander shrugs, “not because I feel like I’m in danger.”

And Magnus has to kiss him for that lovely answer.

“Magnus, my parents can’t force me to marry someone because if I ever tried to sleep with a woman—“ and Alexander is scowling, like the very idea is grotesque. “I’d end up ripping out her throat or pulling her heart out of her chest, or breaking her neck. It would depend on how uncomfortable I was.”

Magnus is both delighted and confused by the admission and then he frowns, “has this happened before?”

Alexander actually looks embarrassed and he untangles his hand to try and cover his face and Magnus grabs it with his own. Bringing it to his mouth and kissing his palm and wrist.

“Uh—“ Alexander is distracted for a moment before, “yeah. They uh, used to force me on dates. One of them tried to kiss me, she’s uh. She lost an eye and her spine broke before they pulled me off of her.” Alec shrugs, “she got punished for it. They can’t exactly punish me when it’s an angelic defense gifted by Raziel’s blood himself.”

And Magnus freezes as something occurs to him and a wicked smirk darkens his mouth.

“Sweetheart, my lovely boy. Do you have such a dangerous reputation that the clave didn’t fight our relationship because they think you’ll kill me?”

Alexander shrugs, “maybe? I haven’t really thought about it. It doesn’t matter because that won’t happen and they can’t do anything to you. I’d go feral if that happened and I’d turn my attention on the clave. The last time they tried to punish a nephilim for who they loved, the nephilim evolved and took out sixteen Council members before they were subdued.

“Everyone agreed it was justified.”

Magnus decides to shelve the evolution question for now. Because he’d like to get his hands and mouth back on Alexander sooner rather than later.

“See, nephilim are vulnerable during sex. Our angelic blood creates a defense. If our partners aren’t our preference, the partner dies. It’s why I sent Izzy back to Idris. She was taking too many risks, pushing her instincts too far.” And Alexander rolls his eyes, “she was also giving more information than she was getting. It was irresponsible and naive of her, so I sent her to Jia Penhallows to be straightened out.”

“So no one touches you and lives to tell the tale?”

“At least not without regrets.” Alexander says with a dark, sharp smile that Magnus wants to cut his own lips on. “Except you. Only you, Magnus.” And Alexander voice is soft and serious like he’s making a solemn vow and his eyes filled with overwhelming sincerity.

And Magnus kisses him.

The discovery of what else is different and new can wait or be found by Magnus’ own exploration.

Right now he needs to be touching Alexander.

Kissing him.

Loving him in a way that Alexander only allows Magnus to.

Magnus wants to claim him. Brand his sign on him so that Alexander will never have to resort to such instincts again.

Magnus is pleased he has them — it thrills something dark and deep inside of him — but Magnus is an heir of Edom.

Why would he ever let someone that close to what is his, when he can keep them all far away himself.

Let Alexander's angelic instincts be his last resort, because Magnus will be his first.

—

“Alexander, you didn’t tell me your eyes turn blue when you come.”

“They do what?”

#magnus bane #malec #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #immortal husbands #writing #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #lumine writes #prompt fill #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets