#alec is already thinking up counter measures

[lurafita]

Camouflaged affection

Magnus is very affectionate, and as previous lovers have often come to think of him as "too much", sometimes he kind of… "camouflages" his gestures as something else.

Like when he asks Alec to practice his palm reading on him.

And then pretty much just spends like fifteen minutes caressing and massaging Alec's hand, while pointing out all his good traits and finding words to balance out his insecurities.

#magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #malec headcanons #shadowhunters #shadowhunters tv #magnus' insecurities rear their ugly heads #but don't worry #alec is already thinking up counter measures

[bytheangell]

Married to the Dark

( @shadowhunterbingo​ square: Vampire!Alec, Rated Teen, No Archive Warnings) (Read on AO3)

To say what follows Alec's suggestion of Simon turning him into a vampire is a ‘discussion’ is being generous. Everyone speaks at once, an overwhelming cacophony of voices trying to be heard over each other. When they do unify to take turns it’s only to shout at Alec one at a time, to tell him over and over that he’s being drastic.

Like Izzy hadn’t almost been de-runed to protect Meliorn and save his life.

Like Jace and Clary haven’t put themselves in the position to die for each other more than once.

Like drastic measures for the ones they care about isn’t par for the course around here.

“Listen, Alec. I know you love Magnus. We all do, and so does he. No one expects you to do this just because you can. He’d never ask you to give up your life,” Jace argues.

“And I’d never ask him to give up his,” Alec counters, immediately on the defensive. “It hasn’t stopped him before.”

“At least take a night to think it over. We’ll reach out to every contact we have, every resource. Give us the chance to find another way,” Izzy pleads.

Alec’s tired. He’s so tired; tired of being afraid, tired of regretting the decisions that he’s made, tired of regretting the decisions he didn’t make, tired of constantly being at odds with everyone around him. He’s just tired. Too tired to argue any longer or shout back, even though he feels like he should be screaming right now, as loud and demanding as the thoughts in his head are.

Instead, he sighs.

“Fine. We’ll reconvene in the morning.” Alec chooses his words carefully, not agreeing to wait. He already knows that the moment they leave he’s going to march himself over to the Dumort to see if he can’t get some other vampire to agree in Simon’s place. The sooner he can get the others out of his hair, the sooner he can get started - he’ll need a few hours to set his affairs in order in case things go wrong.

Hell, he needs his affairs in order in case things go right. Because worst-case scenario he dies permanently, but best-case scenario he dies temporarily and comes back a vampire, and he needs to make sure things are in order for Izzy and Jace to take over in his stead, for the Downworlder Council to still run without him to helm it, and a number of other bureaucratic red tape issues that come to mind.

The group disperses, each of them giving Alec parting glances full of concern, and he does his best not to meet them with looks of bitterness and defiance. He knows they’re trying to look out for him but they don’t know what’s best for him. They don’t understand the desperation in his soul that tears him apart more and more every second he fails to save Magnus.

Alec knows what he needs to do. As the people closest to him leave the room Alec thanks them for being here for him, he thanks them for understanding, though they don’t realize he’s saying it in the hopes of them understanding what he’s about to do next. He hugs each of them goodbye - possibly for the last time - and tries not to show the sense of potential finality he feels with each lingering embrace.

“Alec?”

Simon’s voice startles Alec, so lost in his thoughts he didn’t realize the vampire hadn’t followed the others out of the room.

“Listen, I’m sorry I put you on the spot back there,” Alec says, coupling the words with another heavy sigh. Simon hates blood, and his own death and rebirth are still fresh enough to probably be pretty traumatizing to relive like this. And that’s outside of asking Simon to not only break the accords but to stand back and passively watch him die… it was impulsive and entirely out of line. An ‘I’m sorry’ really doesn’t cut it, Alec realizes, but he doesn’t have time for much else just then. “That was… it’s a lot.”

“You’re telling me,” Simon says, with a laugh that doesn’t quite sound genuine. A moment later the forced smile fades entirely into a deep-set frown. “You’re doing this tonight, aren’t you?”

“Simon…”

“Don’t lie to me, Alec. Those were goodbyes.” Simon doesn’t phrase it as a question.

“Yeah, they were,” Alec answers anyway. “Obviously, I don’t expect you to be the one to do it. I’ll find someone else, just don’t tell the others.”

“That’s the thing,” Simon says. “I don’t want to, but I also don’t want you to go to anyone else. If you are going to go through with this… I’ll do it.”

“Really?” Alec feels hopeful for the first time since Magnus left.

“But you need to really think about it because this isn’t some solution you run with on a whim. Most of the vampires I know never would’ve chosen this life. I know I wouldn’t have.” It’s strange to hear Simon so serious.

They haven’t talked about Clary’s decision to bury Simon as a group since it happened. Alec assumes he and Clary have, but Alec isn’t particularly close with either of them. Instead of finding Simon’s doubt that he’s thought this through annoying, Alec takes the concern to heart.

“Do you regret it?” Alec asks. This isn’t a conversation he particularly wants to have, but it’s one he knows he should before he finalizes the decision he’s already entirely set on in his mind.

“Sometimes,” Simon admits. “Sometimes I’m pretty sure I won’t last long after all of you… after you’re gone.”

There’s a heavy pause, and Alec wonders if Simon’s ever told that to anyone else before.

“I’m not telling you not to do it. I just… I want to make sure you really think about it. I guess that’s my duty as the resident immortal while Magnus is gone.” Simon manages a half-hearted huff of a laugh.

Alec nods. “I know what it means for me. And for my family. I don’t even know if Magnus would stay with me afterward if I did it… if it works. That’s how I know I’m serious about it - because I’d still do it to save him, even if he leaves me for it.”

Alec knows the truth of it. He doesn’t have any rose-colored mental images of riding off into the immortal sunset with Magnus on the other side of all this. But at least the choice is his alone this time, unlike the deal with Asmodeus - whatever happens to the two of them afterward is Magnus’ decision, for better or worse.

One thing is still the same: he’d do anything to save Magnus, even if he loses him in the fallout.

“Tell me you wouldn’t do the same to save Clary. Or your sister.” Alec challenges, desperate for Simon to see his side of this, to agree without a fight, and maybe even help him convince the others that it’s a risk worth taking.

“Of course I would,” Simon agrees, after only a moment’s pause.

“What about Izzy?” Alec knows he has no right to ask, especially not now, but he can’t help it.

Simon tenses at the question.

“I know the two of you are… new. But if I do this and things go sideways… look out for her for me, will you? Promise you’ll be there for her, and Jace, too?”

“You want me to kiss Jace?” Simon asks, and though he tries to force the light tone of a joke it’s tainted by the weight of their topic of conversation.

Alec rolls his eyes.

“I’d say that I would, but if you die and I’m the one who killed you, I can’t imagine I’m going to be much comfort,” Simon points out.

“Fair,” Alec agrees, once more aware of the weight of what he’s asking Simon to do and the position he’s putting the vampire in. “But try anyway?”

Simon nods in silent agreement.

“Listen, Simon. I get it. The concept of immortality, the idea of abandoning the life I was raised in by turning myself into one of the things I was raised to hunt? It fucking terrifies me. But if it’s my only way into Edom before it’s too late to save Magnus then I’m going to do it. Maybe it’s foolish and reckless, and the biggest mistake of my life - but it’s mine to make.”

Alec watches Simon shuffle around a bit, bouncing his weight from one foot to the other while avoiding Alec’s gaze. After bouncing back and forth between desperate pleading and trying to force himself to stay calm enough to hold a rational conversation about his own life and potential immortality, Alec knows there’s a lot here to process. This isn’t a decision to be made lightly for either of them.

“Alright,” Simon says finally, more to himself than to Alec. “Fuck. Alright. We’re doing this. Let’s do this.”

Alec’s heartbeat doubles in speed at those words, the anticipation and anxiety ramping up immediately. They’re really going to do this. He’s really going to do this.

“Give me… two hours. I have some things I need to do first,” Alec says.

“Sure. That gives me time to get what I need, too,” Simon says. Alec doesn’t ask what he’s going to say to get the blood bags Alec will need when (if) he turns. He has enough to worry about on his end of things.

Simon’s nearly to the door when he stops and faces Alec again. “And to answer your question… I would. I’d do it to save Izzy’s life, too.”

Alec smiles at that, his first genuine smile since everything fell apart.

Izzy will have Simon. Jace has Clary. Maryse has Luke. Max has all of them. Alec’s decision sits a little easier knowing those who would feel his loss the hardest would be taken care of in his absence, should things go wrong.

Something in Alec settles with that reassurance, and he feels a renewed confidence that things are falling into place because this is the right call. He can do this. He has to do this because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

So Alec gets to work, comforted by the knowledge that everyone he cares about has a person who cares about them just as much, someone he’s certain would protect them at any cost.

Alec has one, too - and now it’s time to go save him.

#alec lightwood #simon lewis #malec #sizzy #shadowhunters #shbingo #hmdiscord #a little 'what if' of Alec deciding to go through with the impulsive idea of turning himself into a vampire to save Magnus #with a touch of sizzy feels for good measure #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

[the-melting-world]

Grit

~ In which a secretive barhand meets an intriguing musician...

Khleo x Alec

@apprenticealec’s Alec heard about Khleo’s secret fight club and it led to this...

Khleo’s pronouns for this fic: they

cw: *mildly acidic*

~ 1.8k words

***

Khleo looked at the clock. 

Not even four yet.

Ugh. Why did they have to look?

For the thousandth time that day, Khleo promised themself that they would forget about the damn time and just focus on something else until happy hour rolled around. The problem was that there was nothing to focus on. 

The bar was dead.

The only reason Khleo was there suffering? Because they needed those hours. They always needed the hours. Normally, Khleo wouldn’t mind holding down the place until the other barhands showed up. The issue was that they were not alone.

“Von Heine, von Heine, von Heine,” Khleo’s boss drawled from his perch in the crow’s nest, as he liked to call it.

Khleo suppressed the urge to roll their eyes. “What’s wrong, boss? You need more peanuts?”

All the head barkeep knew how to do was binge on nuts while the rest of his employees swept up his crumbs in addition to taking care of their own bartending duties. 

“Did you forget how to use that rag in your belt? We’ll have customers coming in soon.”

Khleo clenched their jaw and assessed the empty tavern hall. There were no glasses that needed cleaning. No surfaces in need of a polish. 

“Oh. Right. Let me just...” Khleo slapped the rag on the counter loud enough to make the barkeep flinch. “get started on that.”

They knew they were in for a very rude comeback, but it got cut off by the sound of the front doors swinging inward. The new customer was striking enough to bring both the barkeep and Khleo to attention.

Khleo didn’t want to stare, so they tore their gaze away from the customer and pretended to focus on wiping the counter. Before that, however, they managed to steal a long enough glance, which sealed the image of blue eyes against a warm skin tone, and beauty marks dark enough to make Khleo wonder if the gods themselves had inked them into her skin.

The barkeep stood up, peanut shells cascading down his front. “What’ll it be, Miss?”

“Nothing right now. I’m here to ask about the uh…. Well, actually, I’m not sure I’m supposed to talk about it. Anyway, are you the one I talk to, or…?”

Khleo could practically hear their boss scowling. “Oh. You’re looking for Khlee. They’re over there.”

Khleo braced themself for the woman’s eager approach, taking her in fully now. Once again, they tried not to stare. But that was hard when the customer was so easy to look at, especially after a day of seeing nothing but peanut husks and cantankerous bosses. Khleo didn’t fail to notice that underneath the comfortable cottons and skirts, the customer carried a fair amount of muscle. Honestly, that didn’t guarantee an advantage in a fight, but it definitely didn’t hurt…

“Hi! Khlee, right? My name’s Alec and I’m here about possibly joining the,” Alec cleared her throat and checked for the nonexistent bystanders before whispering, “club.” She followed it up with a conspiratorial wink.

Khleo’s lip drifted into a smile. This… Alec was cute. Enough that Khleo didn’t want the barkeep’s eyes on them while they were talking. They decided the best way to get Alec alone somewhere was to play along. 

Dropping their voice to a lower octave, Khleo angled their head towards the back and asked, “You want to check out the basement and get a feel for the space? That’s where we have our meetings.”

Alec’s eyes lit up.

After Khleo had guided Alec underground to the warmly lit, cavernous space, they said, “Oh, and it’s Khleo by the way.”

Alec smiled over her shoulder at them. She had already wandered off a bit, inspecting the modest fighting ring marked by a chunky braided rope on the floor. 

Khleo was content to lean against the mini bar and observe her, tracing how her weight shifted as she bounced from one curiosity to the next. When she started showing interest in what lay behind the curtain at the hearthside, Khleo said, “Careful.”

Alec backed up a little and glanced at them in confusion.

“That’s where my lion sleeps.”

When Alec scoffed in disbelief, Khleo merely smiled without elaborating.

“So Alec,” Khleo said, “what do you do when you’re not hunting for fight clubs?”

Khleo didn’t expect such a rich laugh to spring from her. It felt good on their ears, like water babbling out of a brook. 

“I’m actually a musician – a singer. Well, songstress if your pockets are fat enough to host a full concert.”

Khleo had a sudden vision of wrestling with Alec, followed by another – Khleo was leaning against her,  listening while she sang them to sleep. Their mind blanked until Alec asked if everything was okay.

Khleo refocused. “Do you like the space?”

Alec nodded. “I do. I’ll be back later tonight.” She briskly headed towards the stairs. 

Khleo suppressed the urge to abandon the mini bar and block her from getting away. They had to think fast.

“The screening isn't over,” they said softly, feigning interest when Alec slowed down.

“What do I have to do? Or better yet,” she crossed her arms, “who do I have to fight?”

Khleo took a moment to linger on Alec’s defensive body language. 

“Me.”

Alec lifted a dark brow.

Khleo relaxed a little more against the bar. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Alec didn’t answer right away. She slowly crossed the room. Khleo straightened up and tried to ignore the fact that their heart was beating very, very fast. Alec came to a stop about a foot away, and, without breaking eye contact, lifted the front of her skirt above her knees.

Khleo swallowed a little too suddenly.

Alec gave a knowing grin as she swept the hem back between her knees before pulling it taut around the back of her thighs and tying the ends in a knot below her navel. Then she nudged her head in the direction of the fighting ring and turned before she could see if Khleo followed.

By the time Khleo made it to the mat, the blood rushing to their head was trying to punch its way out through their ears. But they coached their body into a more meditative state as they prepared to face Alec. 

Khleo felt so much more at home in the fighting trance. At first, they went easy on Alec, but when they quickly discovered that she was no Vesuvian poodle, they had to adjust their technique. Alec was strong, and for the most part, she knew how to use her strength. She focused it in her legs through measured kicks and whenever she rooted herself in order to grapple. 

Though Khleo’s capabilities were far beyond that of anyone who ever wandered into this basement, they had no urge to reveal this to Alec. Only to study and react to her. But with all of Alec’s grunting and the sweat she created between the two of them, Khleo was too damned distracted.

Still, Alec was keen enough to realize what was going on.

“Hey! No fair! You’re letting me win.”

Khleo used Alec’s shift in energy to catch her leg midair and jerk her a little off balance. Alec gasped as she collapsed against Khleo’s chest. 

“It’s not about winning or losing. I’m testing you. For uh…” The two of them shared a look. “Grit.”

Khleo swept Alec’s feet out from under her and pinned her to the cool floor. 

“There. See? I stopped holding back.” Khleo moved until they were straddling Alec before easing themself into an upright seat. 

Khleo felt so much more at home like this, where they could feel their opponent’s breath rise and fall between their legs.

“Happy now?”

The red band of color sweeping the bridge of Alec’s nose emboldened Khleo to drop to their forearms, bringing them face to face with the musician. Alec held eye contact and didn't stop them. 

Khleo used the moment to take in those blue eyes and god-marked features before they pushed their lips against Alec’s, this time testing to see how it felt to be close to her. Khleo pulled back before either of them thought to deepen the kiss. The barhand licked their lips as they checked Alec for a reaction.

As if waking from a midsummer’s dream, Alec’s eyelids fluttered open. Then something shifted in her and she was back for more, startling Khleo with fierce, hungry kisses. 

Khleo could hear all the effort Alec put into trying to catch her breath. But when they tried to withdraw to give her some room to breathe, Alec only chased their mouth more aggressively. 

So Khleo gave up and just lost themself, rolling with Alec until she was finally on top. Her weight was a comfort, especially when her leg muscles hugged Khleo in all the right places. They reached for Alec’s knees and dragged them up past their hips, forcing her to deepen her seat. Then Khleo coasted their palms along Alec’s strong thighs and dug their fingers in a little each time the musician rolled her hips.

Khleo wanted to reach higher, but they waited until Alec came out of a kiss and sighed a little more forcefully than before. Khleo leaned into instinct and filled their hands up with Alec’s sweet, athletic ass. The musician moaned into the bold touch, gently grinding her hips. Khleo bobbed their own, desperate to catch and hopefully lock onto Alec’s in a way that could only lead to one thing...

That’s when Alec’s hand came down over one of Khleo’s, breaking them from the moment.

“Hey. How did you know that’s what I wanted?”

Khleo could feel Alec smiling as she posed the question.

Khleo kissed her, lightly catching the edge of her lip between their teeth and whispering, “Because you told me so.” Their voice twisted into something more teasing and sly.

Before Alec could respond, the door to the basement opened. Light rushed in from the top of the stairs as someone made their way down. Khleo and Alec couldn’t untangle themselves fast enough before they were spotted.

One of Khleo’s coworkers paused halfway down the steps. “Oh! Am I interrupting?”

By now, they were both on their feet, trying to adjust their hair and clothes.

“I was just here for the screening,” Alec said, a deep blush still clinging to her face. 

The new bartender laughed. “What screening? For the fight club, you mean?” Then he glanced at Khleo, who was doing their best to signal him to cut his line of questioning.

Instead, the bartender looked back at Alec and added, “No screening necessary to join the club. Did Khleo tell you otherwise?”

Khleo glared daggers at their coworker, silently praying that this wouldn’t ruin their chances to spend more time with Alec. But one look in the musician’s direction put them at ease. Because if the way Alec was looking at Khleo was any indication, they would be seeing her again before the day was over.

#fear not #there will be a part 2 #khleo has major heart eyes for alec #khleo the barhand #khlee von heine #lemony #my writing #apprentice alec #khleo x alec #the arcana

[normal-thoughts-official]

Bitch talk about rapharl teaching Alec how to cook a good meal for Magnus and both deciding to work together after lot of bickering because of Magnus bane love juices (u said in your last answer to ask u this so I now demand)(also coz I m Intruiged)

bitch i literally have already told u about this but also sure uwu

ok so like….. alec doesn’t get food. that’s just how it is. he grew up eating nothing but institute food and you can bet your ass there wasn’t seasoning on that shit. on like shadowhunter christmas or fucking something they put salt on the food and that was real adventurous. in shadowhunter culture, food was always seen as nothing but means to an end, Nourishment™ and nothing more. i’m surprised they even had shit like pancakes instead of just being like “for my patrol i am bringing this raw kale, yoghurt and rice smoothie. it is the best combination of nutrients for this time of day & activity” or just straight up eating like nutrient paste like those astronaut food thingies, but i suppose for that last one you would need technological development. do shadowhunters even have blenders tbh. anyway

the point is, food isn’t culturally an important thing for shadowhunters, which is all but canon considering the face magnus made at institute food (seriously, like… the trauma), and there is NO WAY alec knows how to cook. moreover, he doesn’t really get the inherent connection magnus has with culinary as a way to keep tradition alive and express one’s feelings, including love

but he does understand the basic fact that food matters for magnus. it’s funny to me because during s1, every time they talked about dates, alec suggested drinks (as he knew it was something magnus liked), but magnus always went for restaurants. the ethiopian place he knows, the place they went to in tokyo for their second date... i think drinking is more flirting for magnus, but going to a restaurant is more romance. because like not to slut all over the place yet again, but food is love

all of that to say (can u tell this is gonna be a really long answer) that alec is smart enough to eventually realize that magnus would love it if he made him some food. but does alec know where to start? no. he can’t like, tell a carrot apart from a broccoli tree and that’s just how it is. so, he goes to raphael for help, because he knows for a fact that raphael loves cooking and that magnus loves raphael’s cooking

and because alec is Like That his approach is very much like… “okay so teach me right now how to make a michelin star-worthy meal” and raphael is like… rubbing his temples, stressed out already, because goddamn 

so raphael has to sit down and explain the facts of life, i.e. that it doesn’t work like that, to him. cue dramatic speech about how cooking is an art, it’s not just about following a recipe. raphael could teach alec the steps to the most intricate dish, and it wouldn’t be worth anything if alec didn’t understand food, how it worked and how it meant. you don’t expect someone to draw the mona lisa just from knowing art theory. it takes practice, and love, and dedication, and raphael is willing to teach alec all that, but he has to understand that it will take a long time

and alec is like. what the fuck is a mownay leezah and raphael has to sigh and be like. cooking is like mastering a weapon. you have to train. and alec is like ah okay understandable 

cue cooking classes, which will 100% be written here like some “the hero is trained by their wise, old uncle on the ways of fighting” trope because like, yeah. so put on some music that matches that tone

so for the first class raphael puts some soup in front of alec and alec is like. hmmm. and raphael is like “take some and tell me how it tastes” and alec of course goes all “soup……” and raphael raises his eyebrows at him and he’s like “vegetable soup……” and raphael makes go on gestures as patiently as he can and alec is like “i think there’s……….. potato” 

so speech number 1: to be able to cook, you need to know how to eat. cooking is something that you do with all your senses. you need to be able to taste, and tell what’s missing, or if there’s too much of something, and if the texture is right, etc. you need to know what you’re looking for, you need to understand how to improvise, you need to pay attention and be in tune with it. you have to understand the ingredients. and alec is just like, nodding along and doing his best, because look. he might be a himbo with no previous experience on this and he might have no idea what raphael is talking about, but he does want to get this right, and understand this part of magnus better, too. only reason he’s not taking notes is because raphael looked at his notepad like he was going to die

alec takes to describing and understanding textures pretty well (hypersensitivity, babey!), but struggles a lot more with tastes because he doesn’t really have the apparel to describe it accurately due to lack of experience with that. which quickly makes raphael kinda.. sad. he went years without eating (he WILL find a way to be able to eat AND be still a vampire if it’s the LAST THING I DO IN THIS STUPID LIFE) but he can still tell what everything tastes like from memory. it’s not that alec can’t tell, he just… doesn’t know what to do with them because he was raised in a culture that literally didn’t care (and possibly forced him to eat Bad Texture foods and shit like that because it’s not like he has the space to complain about that, does he? and as a fellow autistic raphael can sympathize with that very, very well) 

so slowly but surely alec starts to pick up on tastes and describing and telling them apart and recognizing them when together, you know, shit like this. and sometimes he can recognize something from places magnus has taken him to before and he’s like oh, ginger! that’s what it was! magnus likes this, and his eyes are so full of love raphael has no choice but to huff like a kid because he can’t be caught thinking that it’s cute that alec loves his dad so much

(but it earns him many points in raphael’s book)

once alec graduates in Eating, they go to speech number 2: Why You Have To Vibe With The Ingredients. maia is there for that one because i said so, and anyway they need to get to taki’s to have this particular class because they grow at least some ingredients there okay let me have this (one of the things that made maia’s heart melt for raphael the most was seeing the way he was so careful and loving with the plants, like….. especially if they’ve started working together before raphael could eat food, he would just treat them with so much care and longing and put his all into making sure they grew healthy and well and it was just… heartwarming and heart wrenching in equal measures). but anyway she mostly takes to sitting on the counter, watching this unfold, and being very amused

so raphael shows alec, who promptly almost steps on a really small basil tree, leading raphael to scream NO!!! like he is dying and making maia almost double over with laughter, what they have. obviously they can’t grow enough shit to run a whole ass restaurant but they have almost all kinds of herbs and a few quick-to-grow, easy-to-take-care-of ingredients like tomatoes and squash. bonus for these ones: their fruits are also very visible! so raphael gets to show alec how they grow, what the texture is like, how much they weight, etc. obviously he doesn’t expect alec to grow his own ingredients or anything, but it is important to pick the right ones, otherwise no matter what you do, your food will suck. and seeing some examples of them growing might help you understand why and how that works

so raphael goes around to teaching him how to select the best ingredients according to type of vegetable, then meat, chicken, etc. and like not to slut over raphael but for just a second can i say that he’s just… such a patient fucking teacher, even when alec makes him want to die on the spot, and he is clearly so passionate about the subject, like he talks about it with such conviction and care and wants to make sure that alec understands exactly how it works beyond just decorating what is the correct texture for what and maia is just making heart eyes at him the whole time. she came here to be amused but seeing her boyfriend like that really makes her melt. ugh i love them

also every once in a while alec will say something Painfully Shadowhunter-y and raphael will just stare right at maia with the deadest-looking eyes you’ve ever seen in your life, and she almost spits into her own coffee at least once. sometimes she pats his shoulders all like “hang in there, bud”. but also like, he can’t fool her and she knows that he’s proud whenever alec gets it right, and he’s happy that he gets to do this for magnus, even if kind of second handedly. he knows that it will make magnus immensely happy if alec manages to make him a good meal, and like, he deserves it. plus, raphael just loves food and being able to share what he knows about it is always a joy. not that he won’t complain the whole time. but you know

okay so for next time, alec actually gets to cook for real! some good ole’ s o u p. and alec’s like “hmm. i mean i wanted to make something nice for magnus, you know?” and cue speech number 3: if you aren’t able to make a really good soup, you won’t be able to make anything else. it doesn’t matter how simple the dish is, what matters is to do it right, to make it with love, and to make it taste like home. soup is not just soup, it’s warmth, it’s love, it’s caring, it’s peace. i want you to prove to me that you can pour your whole heart into whatever you make magnus. there are no better or worse dishes, there are dishes more suited to one’s taste, or to an occasion. if magnus is upset, some nice, hot soup is going to soothe him way better than the most delicate pastry. so make me some soup, lover boy, and prove to me that no matter what it is, you can put your love for magnus and take care of him all the same

and alec is not one to back down from a challenge, so he sets his jaw and proceeds to cook like he is heading to battle, or in an episode of hannibal, or some shit. and inevitably he overthinks every single detail and it turns out weird and suboptimal, and raphael is like “i can taste your nervousness in this” and alec is like “nervousness is not a taste” and raphael is like “and yet”

speech number 4: you don’t have to think about it, you have to feel. if you’re thinking too much, you’re stuck in your own head, you’re not paying attention. food isn’t made with the mind, it is made with the senses. pay attention to the textures, tastes, sounds, colors. don’t be out there trying to think of what the most accurate combinations are, or something. just pay attention to what you’re doing

and alec’s like. “i’m too autistic for this humbo jumbo i don’t know how to cook through following my heart” and raphael, ready to smack him with a newspaper, is like “it’s not about following your heart, it’s about following your body, paying attention to what you feel. you are more likely to notice texture differences, tastes, sounds, brightness. use that” and alec’s like alright

anyway so alec makes some and it’s like, alright, not fantastic, but good. then for the third one raphael just goes “ok just think about magnus” and alec is like *vibrating* man i sure do love magnus and he’s practically secreting heart emojis through his pores and raphael is like uggghhhgghhhghghhghhhhhh g r o s s, texting maia about his woes and pain lmao. anyway you guessed it the soup turns out great cuz i’m a corny bitch. raphael is like maia. maia. the soup was so good. just because he was thinking about magnus. he’s actually worthy of my dad. uggghhhhh put a stake through my hEART and maia is just like. pat pat

okay so then they go to more technical shit like chopping techniques and temperatures and stuff like that you know the usual shit. and raphael teaches him some more recipes until he eventually decides that alec is good enough to learn something fancier to woo magnus with - idk what that would be tbh so like insert something here. and okay alec graduates cooking class woohooo

and then a few days later magnus goes visit raphael and he’s all like “so… alec cooked for me the other day” and raphael pauses and softens incredibly and is all like “did he now?” and magnus nods, clearly so happy it’s unbelievable, possibly a little in awe because he wasn’t expecting the sudden display, not when he knew that alec wasn’t exactly interested in culinary, much less for it to be so good. like obviously alec had put thought and work into this and it’s just… really nice. and he felt just so cherished and loved and i just aaaaaaaa

obviously he tries to keep the lovey-dovey shit to a minimum, if anything because raphael already teases him enough (he’s still not over “because you’re totally unbiased”), but it’s just so obvious that he’s happy and he can barely hide a smile behind his tea and whatever raphael made for him (pan dulce maybe?) and he looks almost giddy, and that’s enough for raphael to feel accomplished. and he asks what alec made for him and magnus goes “soto ayam” and raphael’s eyes widen in shock and he smiles to himself like “the bastard”, because in the end alec made magnus soup, soup from magnus’ culture, because he understood perfectly exactly what raphael meant with food being love and care, and i just aaaaaaaaaaa

and don’t get me wrong he’ll make magnus fancy dinners too eventually, with roses and wine and the whole shebang, but he specifically chose soto ayam to be the first because he just loves magnus and wanted that to show through his food before anything else and i just doadsiahdaih im a soft bitch the end

#malec #alec lightwood #raphael santiago #shadowhunters #sh #maiaphael #maia roberts #malec ficlet #kinda idk #magnus bane #brotp: i'll do whatever it takes to protect them #ask #pastaingallday #autistic alec lightwood #autistic raphael santiago

[pines-troz]

Pay Up - Gravity Falls Oneshot

Summary: Dipper finds an antique magnifying glass in the Gift Shop that he wants to keep. Grunkle Stan wants his nephew to pay extra, but Dipper has a trick up his sleeve. 

Word Count: 1,170

Genre: Family, Humor

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714506

AN: This fic takes place at some point during season one, after the events of Irrational Treasure and Summerween. One of the things I love about Dipper is how sassy and snarky he can be, and it’s a shame that some folks in the fandom gloss over that quality. So I wanted to write up a short story that’s essentially humorous banter between Dipper and Grunkle Stan. 

Working part-time at the Mystery Shack was a drag for young Dipper Pines. The curious adventurer could be out exploring the woods with his twin sister Mabel or solving the various mysteries that lay within Journal 3. But he was wasting away a golden afternoon working for his money-obsessed Grunkle who paid no heed to child labor laws. 

The place was empty, given that it was a Wednesday afternoon and not many tourists came by to visit, and it was just him and Grunkle Stan inside the Gift Shop. Soos and Mabel were busy washing the golf carts outside and Dipper was left to sweep the floor while Grunkle Stan manned the cash register since Wendy had called in sick. 

Dipper had finished up cleaning the floor and scanned around the store, satisfied with the hard work he put in. His gaze moved from the floor up to one of the bins where an antique magnifying glass caught the young detective’s attention. The boy walked over to the bin and gingerly picked up the precious magnifying glass. He carefully inspected the item, noting the quality condition of the glass and brown handle. Grunkle Stan must have stolen this item since it didn’t match the shoddy quality of the other items up for sale. 

He also pondered over the practical uses he could have with the magnifying glass. Sure, Journal 3 already had a magnifying glass attached to a string, Dipper only occasionally used it when reading through the mysterious text each night before going to bed. Dipper figured that he could use a portable magnifying glass during his excursions through the enchanted woods or at the library, where he would conduct research on the town’s history. And a part of him wanted to emulate his favorite fictional detectives, Sherlock Holmes (whom Dipper outsmarted earlier in the summer), and The Sibling Bros., one of his favorite YA protagonists. 

The magnifying glass looked too valuable to be placed in a gift shop filled with cheaply-made trinkets, like Mr. Mystery bobble-heads or other items that matched his Grunkle’s ego, and he would not stand idle and allow a blissfully ignorant tourist purchase it before he could. The antique item truly was a diamond in the rough, and Dipper was determined to obtain it by any means necessary!

Grunkle Stan was busy counting up the money cash register while filling Wendy’s post in her absence. “Called in sick, a likely story...” Stan thought to himself. He stopped counting the money in the cash register when he noticed Dipper looking at a magnifying glass he recently put in stock. 

“You know the rules kid, hands off the merchandise.” The con man gruffly reminded the boy. 

“Actually, I want to have this if that alright.” Dipper insisted. 

“Well then you’re gonna have to pay full price.” Stan countered. 

“Oh come on,” Dipper groaned, frustrated that his own family would make such a ludicrous demand. “Couldn’t you give me a family discount at least?”

Grunkle Stan knew Dipper would bring this up, but he came prepared with a counterargument. “I let you and your sister pick out one item from the Mystery Shack for free.” 

Dipper adjusted his iconic blue pine tree hat. He was grateful to get another one after losing his old hat in the woods during a battle with the gnomes earlier in the summer. Even though he appreciated Stan’s first subtle display of affection, it did not negate how annoyed he was of his Grunkle’s grubbiness when it came to business transactions. 

“Now I don’t want you gettin’ any more freebies or discounts from the gift shop.” Stan asserted.  “What do you think I pay you kids for anyway?” 

“You don’t pay us jack squat!” Dipper objected. “You know, the more I think about it, I feel like the Mystery Shack could benefit from a workers’ union!” 

It was at that moment that Stan became infuriated. He had just enough from this little smart alec. “Okay wiseguy, you’re paying an extra five bucks for that magnifying glass!” The con man shouted, crossing his arms smugly. “Now that’ll be ten bucks, kid.” 

Dipper rolled his eyes and turned away from the cash register. Of course, Grunkle Stan would want to jack up the price in retaliation. He reached into his vest pocket and felt a crinkled up dollar bill. But it was no ordinary piece of American currency, but rather an outdated piece of money granted to him by Quentin Trembly the Third Esquire, the Eighth-and-a-Half President of the United States of America. 

Dipper grinned menacingly, knowing that he had the upper hand. 

The boy turned around, playing the role of the defeated party as he wore a sullen frown. “Okay Grunkle Stan, I surrender. I should be more grateful that you pay me in food and lodging as opposed to minimum wage.” 

“You’re darn right, Dipper!” Stan emphasized. 

As soon as Dipper placed the bill into Stan’s calloused hand, he took his prize and sprinted towards the exit. “Success!” He thought to himself as he made his escape. 

Grunkle Stan smiled to himself. “Aha! Victory is mi-” He inspected the dollar to find not the face of Alexander Hamilton, but the face of some mutton-chopped weirdo with -12s on each corner. What is this malarkey?!? 

“A negative twelve dollar bill!” Stan yelled in disbelief. “This is absolutely worthless!” 

Suddenly the bell rang as the door to the Gift Shop opened and Dipper poked out from behind.  “It’s less than worthless!” He replied before slamming the door shut.

Grunkle Stan was left alone in the Gift Shop, feeling like a complete goon. He looked at the less-than-worthless currency in the palm of his hand. To think that his nephew had duped him out of some magnifying glass. Dipper had played him like a fiddle, and yet, he wasn’t upset at the slightest. 

In fact, Stan was very proud of Dipper. 

Tears of joy started swelling in his eyes. He had hoped to teach the kids valuable lessons in the art of pulling off schemes. Heck, their first bonding lesson of making counterfeit Benjamins had landed him in jail. But Stan had been smarter about his crimes. The last family bonding they had involved stealing decorations for Summerween, and only paying the cashier using Stan Bucks. Now Dipper had learned from the best and even added his own flair to his little crime. Instead of making up his own fake currency with amateur doodles, the kid used some sort of negative money that resembled a typical dollar bill to avoid paying extra for some magnifying glass, and he actually got off scot-free! 

Ever since Dipper and Mabel arrived, all he ever wanted was to connect with the kids, even using his unorthodox measures of pulling off cons and schemes. He was overjoyed that Dipper took it upon himself to beat him at his own game. 

“Heh. Conned by my own nephew.” Stan said to himself as he looked at the fake money in his hands. 

#gravity falls #fanfiction #dipper pines #grunkle stan #stanley pines

[marvel-ousnesss]

My very own Prince Charming (Bucky x reader Royal AU) - Pt. 1

Word count: 4705

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Queen!reader

Warning: Mild cursing

A:/N: I don't know much about royal protocols and other stuff so I mostly based myself on the Princess Diaries and some googling. Message me if you wanna be tagged in upcoming parts or updates on my masterlist. Also, this won’t match the MCU timeline, but will have some elements of the plot. And, for the sake of the story, S.H.I.E.L.D. is an international organization.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE MARVEL CHARACTERS/ PLOT.

Twenty three years ago, international intelligence had detected activity of Hydra members inside King James’ palace, and his only son, and heir to the crown, had received multiple threats. At first, the stubborn monarch didn’t make major changes, claiming Hydra was only cultivating fear. The prince was kidnapped, and only then were exhaustive measures taken, and; in a matter of a few months, he was found and taken back home.

It was hard not to notice that the traumatic experience had affected both the boy and his father, for the two of them had grown paranoid of something happening to them, or to their kingdom. So, internal security was doubled and the prince was sent into hiding. 

But the problem was nowhere near eliminated. More recent investigations had unmasked the nation’s Prime Minister, Alexander Pierce, and other members of the court, as Hydra spies and, considering the events that had unfolded before, you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw how relaxed the old king seemed to be with it all. 

That morning, he had strolled into your palace with the warm smile that he always seemed to wear; and, only after drinking his peppermint tea, did he step into the meeting room.

It had been an hour since then. 

Now, you were desperately trying to keep your composure. The meeting had been going on and on in what seemed like circles and King James Barnes could not bring himself to understand how serious the situation was. 

With Pierce imprisoned, the king openly expressed his intention to bring his son back into the spotlight. This, you thought, was the most reckless decision he could make, and you didn't keep it to yourself. As soon as you heard, you asked to meet him to make him see the risks of the whole plan. After all, it affected you directly, given that the prince was your betrothed. 

“Your majesty, I believe that matter was already taken care of, Minister Pierce and the rest of the traitors were imprisoned for their actions,” he assured, with his silver brows frowned. 

“That’s not enough, it’s unsafe and idiotic for Prince James to come back until the whole engine of Hydra is dismantled.” You took a sip of your coffee, trying to appear calm. 

“They’ll spend the rest of their days in maximum security; that will deliver the message. There is nothing to worry about.''

“Hydra won’t even flinch with their imprisonment, Prince James won’t be welcome here until the coast is clearer or international measures are taken,” you stated, crossing your arms. 

"That’s not a call for you to make, dear. I Will make the arrangements for my son to be sent here, as I had agreed with your father and the parliament of Galicia, and wedding preparations will commence as soon as he arrives."

They won't get any more fear from us," he looked at you pointedly; "from neither of our kingdoms”.

… 

You had met Tony Stark a few years prior, at the annual Diamond Aircraft Industries Convention and Exhibition, which you were both attending as honored guests. Just needed to say that, In Bruce's words, everything had gone downhill from there. 

He was one of the most frequent guests at the palace and you were one of the most distinguished figures to attend his parties; but, it was more than that. Since your friendship with the businessman began developing, you tested the waters and, bit by bit, grew to trust him. You became the closest of friends, and each other’s esporadical, charge-free therapists. 

For obvious reasons,  he told you all about his media starboy business, but you barely knew what went on downstairs, in his lab. Same went for him; you didn’t tell him everything, and he understood. But both of you had the vice of rambling a lot; so he had a good idea of the royal gossip going on in your life, and you had a few clues about his mad-scientist mystery.

There wasn’t much rambling, at the moment; just the therapy part. Your head rested between your hands while your mind drifted off, softly singing along the AC/DC album playing from the computer in front of you, thinking about possible solutions for the problem at hand. However, the awfully permanent smirk plastered on your friend's face didn't help at all. You groaned, lifting your head and frowning at the billionaire. 

“So… you’re not gonna marry him? There's one little problem standing in your way,” Tony scoffed, filling two glasses with his  finest Macallan. “Kind of a big problem actually: thirty-seven parliament members who'll have your head if you go all Princess Diaries on them. Not to mention Jimbo and junior, and daddy's ghost roaming around your castle." 

“Well, it's the only solution I can think of, daddy dearest sure managed to leave me between a gun and a wall, and not figuratively. I can’t call off the engagement just try to postpone it, that way, at least the king will have no reason to take his son back home anytime soon and, hopefully, I avoid getting a terrorist pain in the ass.” 

He leaned on the counter, taking a long sip of his drink. “Why do you care so much about Prince Charming; for all we know, old Jamey may have some Kingsman business under the table and, wedding or not, it’s gonna involve Galicia” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of, haven't you seen the news? How useful can a secret plan be if his government is basically Hydra's headquarters by now?” 

"Well, from the PG civilian version that you, and half of the journals worldwide, have told me, all of us are eventually gonna get bugged by Hydra, so you might as well make up a pro-wedding plan, which leads me to my field of expertise. Whatever you do, don't even try to pull a Mia Thermopolis. Trust me, the cameras are gonna be all over you, now more than ever; so, unless you wanna go from princess to pauper real quick, you need to behave.”

You emptied your glass, sitting back. "Nothing to worry about then. I’d rather hide under a rock than face a camera right now. Besides, don’t really know what they find appealing about my life; they already have Prince Harry and his American Girl, turning everything into some reality show.”

He quirked a brow, snickering. “No offense, but your life’s basically the royal edition of Parental control.”

"Fuck off. I'm not even against marrying the guy; I mean, how bad can it be?"

"Let’s see, um, Donald Trump bad, Charlie Sheen bad, Alec Baldwin bad,” he grimaced, “Amber Heard bad, ooh… Caytlin Jenner bad, want me to continue?" 

"I get it, Stark, it may not be ideal; but I'm really not bothered by an arranged marriage.”

“He could be ten years old,” he began fidgeting with a paper, making tiny balls out of it. 

You glared at him, “he’s not”.

“Could be gay,” he declared, throwing one of the balls into the trash can across the kitchen. 

“Wouldn’t be a bad thing, look at Philip of Orleans,” You tried to dodge, but the next ball hit you on the nose. You picked it up from your lap, and threw it back at him. 

“Cheesy,”

“There’s worse things.”

“Bald,” 

“Seriously, Tony?” You complained, standing up and turning the light on. You then moved past your previous spot on the kitchen chair, going straight for the couch. You let yourself fall gracelessly and padded the spot next to you, where Tony sprawled himself with a huff. 

“Or… he could be a cocky bastard.” 

“Already got practice with those.” You smirked, smacking him lightly  on the back of his head.

“Glad my bickering made you feel better,” he smiled at you. 

You laughed. “Fuck you, Jimmy Neutron.” 

“You wish,” he chuckled, grabbing the remote. 

—————————————

Two weeks passed, and it was done. No turning back now, Prince James had been sent to his kingdom and, after some father-son quality time, was supposed to arrive at your palace that very morning, for you to finally meet him in the afternoon. 

You felt like a complete idiot, like a high school girl. The last time you had seen the prince, you were both five, so all you could do was wonder how he had changed over the years. You had breakfast with an ambassador from the Global Charities Aid Foundation, but it had practically passed in a blur. Before you would’ve liked, you found yourself in the limousine, on your way back home, with the major part of the day still ahead of you. 

Your gaze was glued to the driver’s head, you were motionless. 

Thinking. 

What were you supposed to say to him? “Hey, you’re welcome to put us all in danger, make yourself at home. By the way, I think your father’s a dickhead”?... not appropriate. It had to go something along the lines of “Your highness, hi. Welcome to your future home but still my kingdom. But, hey! you get to  choose our wedding cake.”... no, too straight forward. 

“After speaking to Colonel Rhodes at eleven, you'll be heading to the Marbella room at three, for greeting and welcoming the prince and his people; and later, at four, a sweet two hours of document verification and signing.”

It had to be perfect; consistent, not sharp… kind, but not weak… polite, but not passive agress—

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?"

You huffed, “No.” 

Clint, one of your attachés, scoffed at your attitude but gave you an encouraging, soft smile. “Rhodes, prince, letters,” he clarified. 

"Maybe a few gallons of coffee to go with it? I’m sure the breakfast meeting left us all half asleep," suggested your bodyguard, Pietro. 

You let out a strangled laugh, but remained zoned out, until the intrigued gazes your bodyguard kept sending your way became too obvious.

“Do I have something on my face, Piet, or do you simply enjoy staring?” You spoke without catching his eye.

“Yes, no, nevermind… it’s just… there’s something on your face; a ‘gonna meet my husband’ look, kinda makes you look nervous.” 

“Really?” Clint jeered.

You loured at him, earning an apologetic puppy look. 

You chuckled, genuinely this time. Pietro could be annoying at times, he spoke without filter and got himself in trouble; but you couldn’t stay mad at him, the little shit always managed to make you laugh.

The limousine came to a stop, right in front of the palace. The door was opened for you, so you breathed once and graciously made your exit, followed by Pietro and Clint. 

Arriving home always brought a smile to your face; the marble facade of the place, together with the colorful gardens, the blue of the sky, and the friendly faces of your staff and household members made you momentarily forget about what was to come. 

“Your majesty, Mr. Barton,” grinned Wanda, your other attaché. “How was your meeting?” 

“Not that bad," you found yourself smiling at her. 

“Don’t I deserve a greeting?” asked Pietro, but his sister only rolled his eyes.

You scoffed at their quibbling. “How’s everything going? Has the Colonel arrived yet?” 

“He’s waiting for you in the library.” 

“Thanks, Wanda; I’ll see you later.” You made your way inside, closely followed by Pietro.

The Colonel was sitting on a velvet chair, going over a pile of paperwork. As soon as you made an appearance through the waiting room’s door, he stood up and subtly curtsied. “Your Majesty, Lieutenant Maximoff,” he greeted. 

“Sorry for the wait, Colonel. Shall we begin?” You opened the library door, allowing both men to go inside before you. 

You proceeded to settle on your desk, with your guest sitting in front of you. Pietro stationed himself at the door and adopted a firm posture, head held high and hands behind his back.

“Lieutenant, would you be kind enough to leave us alone?” 

Complying with his superior’s words, Pietro unlocked the door but, when he was about to open it, you said, “Lieutenant, please stay. Colonel, whatever you need to speak to me as my head of security, I’m sure the commander of the royal guard, whom you personally named, poses no danger.” 

“As you wish, your majesty; but I'm here to talk about a matter of absolute secrecy.”

You exhaled. 

“As you know, with the current situation, it would be wise for you to take measures in regards to your personal protection. I know we're talking about not only an anarchist, but terrorist organization, which requires the employment of country-wide measures, but members of King James's War and Defense council have expressed their desire to keep our actions minimal, to see how Hydra proceeds.” 

You quipped, “They want an attack.”

“I’m afraid so”, he nodded. 

“Fine, they want discretion, we'll give it to them. I want SHIELD involved. While the King's people work on whatever it is they are doing, I want someone there to get information from Pierce and the other inmates. No need to worry about me.”

"That'll certainly end up in diplomatic issues if we don't consult the World Security Council first," he said as he scanned his planner notebook, looking for the other topics he had selected for going over. 

"Too flashy," you mumbled, thinking.

“Maybe contact commander Hill,” suggested Pietro, who had heard about her reputation.

“Who?” you tilted your head.

“SHIELD’s Deputy Director”, clarified Rhodes, then prompted Pietro to continue. 

He looked into Rhodes’ eyes, then yours. “Once you tell her about his majesty’s plan of not having a plan, I’m sure she’ll assign someone without having to involve diplomacy.” 

“What do you, think, Colonel?”

“I’ll speak to her, and update you on the course of action that she recommends.” 

Pietro smirked, his chest sticking out.

“Great.” You nodded.

He scratched the topic from his list, “on a different matter, I wanted to ask if you had already set a date for the arranged visit of the  newly named members of the War and Defense council. I was thinking of next Friday, for dinner?” 

“Friday is perfect, Colonel.” You smiled, “I’ll see them at eight pm on that day.”

….

You had three hours to spare before the most dreaded meeting you've had since the reading of your father’s will. It was only natural for your head to be foggy but you couldn’t afford to waltz through the day like that. Fresh air, that’s what you needed. 

Discarding your trench, heels and dress, you jumped into a (classic avenger disguise) pair of skinny jeans and a hoodie, making sure your face was more or less concealed by sunglasses and a baseball cap. Ready to go, you walked out walked out the door but, as expected, you didn’t even reach the stairs. 

“Where’ you headed, your majesty?,” inquired Pietro, crossing his arms and lifting a brow. 

He was the most loyal friend one could ask for, but annoyingly rigorous when it came to his job. He had to know where you were and who you were with, especially outside the castle’s protection. 

“Just want some coffee, and maybe a croissant,” you tried to walk past him, but he grabbed your arm softly. 

“You know all that you need to do is say the word, right? The kitchen’s a call away.” Now, he was messing with you; you could tell by his boyish smirk.

“You know what I mean,” you playfully punched his arm. 

“Fine,” he lifted his hands defensively, “meet you downstairs.”

After you practically sprinted to the first floor, you sat down at the lobby and waited for your shadow. He walked down the stairs wearing a pair of gray joggers and a white basic v-neck, not forgetting his earpiece and gun, carefully concealed under his jacket. 

Both of the guards at the entrance bowed slightly and opened the wooden door. 

“Who would’ve thought you’d take babysitting so seriously?” You teased. 

“Well, don’t wanna deal with Clint and Wanda yelling at me for losing you; not to mention Rhodes and Stark, ” he deadpanned. “Would be annoying. Also, I’d have to go job-hunting.”

“I’m sure you’d manage, I mean, half of Hollywood would cut an ear off for you to work for them.” 

“What can I say, guess I'm that good at my job.” 

You scoffed, “I bet their thoughts drift off to things a bit over your pay-grade.''

“Well, my ‘pay-grade’,” he air quoted, “ is negotiable.” 

You quirked a brow at him, smirking, “eew.”

“You’re just jealous,” he taunted. “I’m sorry, but you're like my other sister."

"Yeah, right."

"One that's also my boss, kinda weird relationship; but, eh, you get the point."

You chuckled, letting the scene fall into a comfortable silence as you walked, occasionally hitting each other with your shoulders. After a few minutes, you arrived at your favorite coffee shop, and sat down on a table at the back. 

When he placed two huge cups on the table, you laughed, “you weren’t kidding about the gallons of coffee.”

“Oh, you wanted some too, my bad.” He grabbed a cup with each hand, holding them out of your reach.

“Oh yeah?” You took hold of the cardboard plate which held both of your donuts and put it on your lap, under the table. 

When you had your fill, and bought a few pastries to go, you made your way back to the castle. 

“You know, we should lay down for a bit,” you voiced. “There, under the trees.” 

“Don’t you have a blind date in like two hours?”  Not that you don’t look hot right now, but you need to get all royalled up.” 

Your smile disappeared, “Shit, you’re right.” 

With the park now behind you, minutes went by as you walked through the crowded street with Pietro, animatedly discussing some recent soccer games. 

You noticed that some odd looks were directed your way, so you tried to ignore them. Maybe it was just your imagination,  maybe they had just recognized you. Better brush it off… you adjusted your hood and continued. But the whispers and snickering were a reaction you never got when seen in public. 

It didn’t seem to stop. Now you were sure it wasn’t just you, so you looked at Pietro, silently asking for help. As a response, he placed an arm around your shoulders, shielding your face a bit better.

You continued talking as if nothing happened, but it was useless; even if the glances only came from some random pedestrians, it was getting pretty awkward. 

You were about to stop walking, when you felt an unfamiliar hand tapping your shoulder. 

“I’m really sorry, but you have a bloodstain on your pants,” the stranger  scratched the back of his neck, clearly taken aback by the situation. 

“Here.” He offered his denim jacket, which, after thinking about it for a moment, you accepted, wrapping it around your waist . 

You smiled at him, and he visibly relaxed, “thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” He gave you one last tight-lip smile and began toward the other side of the road, but still in the same direction in which you were going. 

Pietro softly pushed you forward, prompting you to say something; “he gave you his jacket,” he mumbled. 

“So?” 

“Flirting,” he coughed. 

You weren't supposed to; heck, you were on your way to meet your fiancé, but there was no  harm in small talk… right? You took a breath, it was the first time you did this, so you had absolutely no idea what to say. 

You took a step forward, then eyed Pietro, who urged you to continue… Here went nothing.

“I’m Y/N/N.”

He turned around, all of the sudden radiating confidence. 

With an alluring smile that made his indigo eyes twinkle, he replied, “Bucky, nice to meet you.” 

Pietro quietly snickered beside you, then opened his mouth, “and I’m Pietro, her boyf-”.

“Best friend”—you elbowed him in his right side— “he's my best friend.” 

Bucky’s gaze drifted between the two of you. After hesitating for a second, he chose to believe you. 

“So, where' you headed?” He asked. 

You lied with ease, giving him a charming smile, “I have a meeting near the palace, how ‘bout you?” 

“Same actually, wanna walk together?” His eyes drifted awkwardly between you and Pietro, “the… three of us?” 

“Actually, my sister just texted me, says she needs help with, uhh, her cat; he's been... acting weird lately. Bye Y/N/N.”

 Just like that, Pietro left. Only, he didn’t. 

He had to keep an eye on you, so he was just gonna keep his distance.

“So, your best friend…” Bucky trailed off, hands half inside the pockets of his jeans. 

“Yup,” you popped the ‘P’, "but let’s not talk about him. Your accent...,” you noted, “where are you from?” 

“I’ve been living in New York for quite some time,” he didn’t answer your question, but you gave it no mind. 

"What brought you all the way here?” You adjusted his jacket around your waist.

He scratched the back of his neck, letting out a breath.

"I… sorry, you don't have to-...," you atoned, but he cut you off. 

“Relax, doll, it’s fine," he assured. "My father called me last week, basically told me to drop everything and come help out with some family business.”

 The way in which he spoke picked your interest; it wasn't with resentment or bitterness, which you'd have expected from someone who had basically left everything on hold, but just as if he had been waiting for that to happen. Nevertheless, his voice came out thicker than it had before, so you could tell he was clearly affected by it. 

Unsure whether or not to change the topic, you asked, "what's New York like? I’ve never been there.”  

He chuckled softly, lifting his brows, "exhausting, fast-paced, it's like everyone's in a rush all the time. it's surprisingly homely; the people, the sights, everything's great but, you know, the food’s what I love the most.” 

You looked at him quizzically, tried to suppress a laugh, “seriously?”

“The touristy places aren’t bad, but, when you have an expert guide, that’d be me, it’s something else.” 

“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” you removed your hood, but fixed your hair so it would frame your face. 

“For now, you’ll have to.” He bit his lower lip, masking a smile. 

Did he just say ‘for now’? Of course he did. You chuckled nervously, doing what you could to get rid of the silences that had surfaced. 

“So, what else do you hide?, apart from being an expert New York foodie, of course,” you finally asked.

“I own a small gallery in Brooklyn,” he explained. “My friend, Steve, he’s an artist; we show and sell most of his work there,” his right hand moved to his hair, fixing a rebel strand. “But, enough ‘bout me. My turn to ask.” 

“Okay, shoot.”

“Ideal date.” He declared, with the same bold smile that, to be honest, made your knees tremble. 

This time, you straight up laughed at how straight forward he was. 

Before you’d have liked, you reached your destination. The World Trade Center and the Wakandan international aid center stood tall before you, in front of a subway station that led straight to the castle. 

Instead of heading down the subway stairs, you smiled at him and stopped walking. “Well, this is me. It was nice walking with you, uh.. take care.” 

You waved goodbye and walked to the buildings as fast as you could, avoiding any more conversation. 

“Wait!” Bucky urged, “didn’t catch your number.” 

You gave him his jacket back, together with an apologetic, tight lipped smile, and stepped inside. 

What was Pietro thinking? No, what were you thinking? If people at the palace heard a word of it, you'd never get a break.  Through the window, you saw him jogging toward the subway station with a slight frown on his face, and mentally cursed. 

With that taken care of, you could focus on fixing your bloody situation so you could get to the palace (sort of) on time.

You waited until Bucky was out of sight and sprinted across the street, toward the recently opened Wakandan aid center. When you entered the lobby, you greeted the staff and walked to the receptionist’s desk. 

Amare was the woman who assisted you every time you came to meet king T’Challa or the ambassador, so you didn’t hesitate to ask her for a tampon, a pad, whatever she had at hand, really.

She handed you a tampon and you rushed to the restroom. Once out, you  glanced out the window to make sure the coast was clear. After thanking her and saying goodbye, you went toward the subway station. Your hand flew to your jean’s back pocket and, by heart, you dialed your prime minister’s number. 

“I assume you're running late.” His voice was tired; no, calm, yet aggravated.

"Hey, Bruce," you sang, trying to lighten the mood.

"Y/N.” 

His voice was still cold, but softer. You sighed and went straight to the point. Bruce was one of the most patient and understanding people you Knew, but you didn’t wanna push him too far. He was known for having quite a thin temper, which you had personally experienced only two times and wanted to keep it that way.

“Please, could you entertain Prince James and his people?, just for a bit,” you were panting, jogging down the stairs. “I’m begging you, I just had a little problem.” 

“Of course I'll help you," he sighed.  “Just make sure you get here before they leave.”

“So, so funny," you rolled your eyes. “See you at twenty.” 

He coughed, “ten.” 

He already knew there was no hope of you arriving on time. This was a frequent conversation between the two of you; whether it was for an official matter, or whatever else that required your presence. 

As soon as the phone call ended, your train arrived. You opted for standing up, wanting to avoid leaving a crime scene on the plastic seat; your hand grabbed the pole, and your left foot bounced restlessly. Practically jumping out of the train, you sprinted to the palace and straight to your room. 

Shower, tampon, dress, makeup, hair, and you were out the door, with your shoes in your hand. Heels could wait. 

Record time, you thought, falling limp on one of the chairs outside the throne room; proceeding to put your stilettos on and fix other minor details. 

While you were at it, Pietro, who was leaning against the doorway, made his presence known. “You know, something tells me there’s a story that I’d like to hear”. 

“You literally shadowed me the whole way home, Piet, you got first row seats for the entire thing.” You glanced at his navy blue suit through your makeup mirror, as you fixed your lipstick. 

He loosened his tie a little bit. “Just to be clear, I wasn’t listening,” he claimed. 

You rolled your eyes. "Of course you weren't.”

“How nosy do you think I am?” 

“Very.” 

He protested weakly but you gave it no mind, your heart was pounding and your hands were shaking. You inhaled and closed them into fists, then grabbed the handle of the door. 

You were about to open it, then you stopped. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

Pietro grabbed your arms and gently rubbed up and down. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“What if it’s not,” you mumbled. 

“You have nothing to worry about.” He turned you around so he could face you. "If he doesn't like you, I'm sure he'll change his mind in no time; I mean, look at you. And, if he ever tries to hurt you or take over your throne, you know I'll kill him, remember that." 

You hugged him tightly. "Thanks," you whispered into his shoulder. 

At first, you opened the door just enough for your voice to be heard, so your name could be announced.

“In comes her royal majesty, Queen Y/N from the house of Y/L/N; and Lieutenant Pietro Maximoff, commander of the Royal Guard and of her majesty's personal escort.”

That's when you stepped into the throne room. 

Requests open!

#Bucky x reader #Avengers imagine #mcu imagine #Tony stark #pietro maximoff #Bucky barnes #Avengers x reader #Bucky imagine #Bucky x you #Bucky x y/n #Prince!Bucky x reader #royal au #prince!bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier x reader #arranged marriage au #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfic

[whereshiphappens]

56 + Jalec, please? :)

Jalec (shadowhunters)  +  56. “It’s so good to see your face.”   

Canon Universe, set before the show’s/book’s canon.

~1,890 words

A/N: hello sweetie!!! first of all this one took me a bit longer just because i wasn’t home to finish it because i was writing this thing i was on fire in my seat ksjdfgkjgnkrkj idk it got away from me a little, but i had toooooooons of fun and i sure hope you enjoy it! thank you so much for this, i missed writing jalec, damn

as always this is pretty much not proof read im very very sorry for the weird mistakes

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The hilts of the seraph blades Jace is holding feel warm in his hands. He’s been gripping them for quite some time, and even though his runes are all in perfectly working order he still feels unsure as he looks around and doesn’t take him long to figure out he’s severely outnumbered.

Perhaps, a tiny voice in the back of his mind quietly provides, he should’ve waited a little longer for backup. He scowls, takes a big breath in and refuses to acknowledge that because he’s got this. 

So he moves.

The way he moves is instinctive, slashing and stabbing, kicking and pushing at the lesser demons on his path, his body almost moving in autopilot as he blocks and counters attacks.

The narrow way of this tunnels under the city where these demons have been hiding works in his advantage, but still, he is very much outnumbered and next thing he knows he’s stepping back to where the tunnels get wider, intertwine with a perpendicular one in that clearing, and Jace is a lot more exposed. 

Fuck, he thinks as he steps back, takes a minute to access his surroundings, just like every demon seems to be, looking at him and observing trying to figure out his next move. 

Jace is a good soldier, he’s the fucking best they’ve got, in fact, but the problem here is that he’s just one. There’s no way he can cover all angles in a place like this, and okay, he needs to be realistic just about now and start thinking of a way to get out of this because, if he keeps just fighting, there’s no way he’s getting out of this in one piece.

But then, with impeccable timing, he feels, more than he sees the presence of his parabatai.

“Jace!” Alec calls out as him and another five shadowhunters spill from the tunnels that converge into the clearing Jace is backed against, and just like that, everything is set into motion again.

With a swing of his seraph blade that lands straight into the shoulder of the demon running into him, Jace can’t help but laugh, feeling the adrenaline spike all over again, “It’s so good to see your face,” he says as Alec gets close enough.

Even with the erratic movements of the fight, Jace can see the annoyed frown on Alec’s face.

“You’re a fucking idiot, did you know that?!” Alec says, stopping a moment to accusingly pointing his dirty seraph blade at Jace for good measure, “an absolute fucking idiot, didn’t I tell you to wait?” 

The smile stays on Jace’s face, a sort of euphoric relieved one (although he’ll never admit it to Alec) as he swings his blade around, moves to Alec’s side on instinct and they start fighting together. “Well, yeah, but-”

“No buts!” Alec yells, as he takes out one of the demons rather violently. Jace spares a glance and his eyebrows go up in his forehead in a mix of amusement and admiration. There’s a pause and Alec turns around to face Jace for a moment. “You keep getting yourself into deep shit and it’s my job to dig you out of it and you honestly test my fucking patience, you just needed to wait.” 

They both start moving at the same time again, swirling around each other with the effortless ease that comes from knowing each other’s moves and fighting styles so well, covering every angle. When Jace comes up in front of Alec again, protecting Alec’s exposed flank and taking out the demon that swung at him, he takes a second to look at Alec, who’s looking back, pouts giving him the most ridiculous face and says “sorry.”

Alec groans, rolls his eyes and shakes his head, moving once again to stride towards the last demons near him, “I swear I hate you,” Alec says, but there’s no heat in it.

With a smirk, Jace follows his movements, knowing Alec’s approach like it was his own, and they both finish off the last two demons. “No you don’t,” Jace says, breathing worked up from all the fighting.

In resigned silence, Alec gives him a pointed look then turns away to inspect his weapon, instructs their colleagues to have one last look around the tunnels before they leave first. As everyone starts dispersing in groups down the tunnels, Jace turns as well, ready to follow.

“I’ll give a hand-,” he starts, but Alec interrupts him.

“You are not leaving my sight any time soon,” he says in that authoritative tone he makes work so well as he finishes wiping his seraph blade and puts it away. They both stare at each other for a while in silence, the tension building between them.

A small teasing smirk spreads across Jace’s face, “you’re so hot when you’re angry,” he says, voice dropping lower, still loud enough to echo in the walls on the clearing.

Jolted, Alec’s mouth falls open and his first reaction is to look around, see if anyone heard him, before he faces him again - something flips in Alec’s eyes, and Jace can’t bite off his own smirk.

“Jace, what the hell,” Alec says, voice low, frowning at him as he lowers his face, almost like a warning.

And fuck, honestly, it eggs Jace on.

“It’s true,” Jace shrugs, a clear mischievous smile spreading on his mouth, despite the fake show of innocence he tries to convey with the word. He can see the tension on Alec’s jaw as he adjusts his weapons, throws warning look at Jace and tell him to “shut up,” before turning around to start walking away, towards the tunnel from which they entered.

But if there’s one thing that Jace is, besides a bit of a little shit, that is stubborn. 

“It gets me worked up, I swear,” he says, following Alec, who’s still walking away in bit, strong steps, almost stomping like he’s making a point of walking away. Jace knows him well enough to know that that is exactly what he’s aiming for. He adds, “maybe that’s why i do it,” in a low tone that comes out as husky as he intended it too.

Jace knows he’s playing with fire when Alec abruptly turns around, not that far from Jace and says, with a finger pointed at him and an almost dangerous expression on his face, like he’s about to burst.

“I’m going to punch you in the face,” Alec warns, only half not meaning it. 

It does absolutely nothing to stop Jace.

“Fuck,” he drawls out, “even that works for me,” Jace teases in an exaggerated whine that snaps whatever control Alec was exerting on himself.

Jace almost laughs as he feels his parabatai grab him by the collars of his leather jacket, turn him around in swift movement and backing him up against one of the brick walls, hand falling on Jace’s neck automatically squeezing at the sides, making Jace’s mouth fall open in a gasp around the smile on his face, head tilted back against the wall, eyes fluttering before fixing back on Alec.

“Not only do you fuck up my mission,” Alec speaks through gritted teeth close enough that he’s speaking right into Jace’s ear, but not too close that he can’t keep eye contact. He squeezes around Jace’s neck a little bit harder for a moment, “you’re also being a brat about it?”

And this, this right here is exactly what Jace wanted.

The absolute rush that invades his body with Alec’s words makes him hum as he keeps the eye contact. He wasn’t lying - angry authoritative Alec really does things to him. It’s so easy to forget where they are sometimes, and the peak of adrenaline that comes after a fight does not help in the slightest, if the tightness of Jace’s trousers already are anything to go by.

He tilts his head back, brings his chin up in a small act of defiance and keeps looking straight into Alec’s eyes as he bites on his lip.

“What do you think you’re doing, uhn?” Alec says, still tense, quickly glances down the tunnels. He turns Jace’s head just slightly with the hand still on his neck, brings his own face even closer to Jace’s until his nose is bumping against his cheekbone.

“Do I need to fuck some sense into you?” Alec’s voice comes out low, tense, and Jace feels it going straight to his dick, feels his stomach flip and his heart fasten. His breathing gets worked up a little, and he doesn’t say anything, closes his eyes instead.

Shit. 

“Do I need to take you down a peg, put you back in your place, uhn? Is that what you need me to do?” The hand around Jace’s neck squeezes for a second, “How dare you tease me like that, is this your idea of “keeping it a secret”?”

With his eyes fluttering open, Jace smirks, something in him pulling him to rile Alec up even further and he’s not thinking properly when he says “I never said I wanted to keep it a secret, did I?”

He barely registers when Alec turns him around, feels the hard cool bricks of the wall against his cheek instead when he meets it and once again, that rush of adrenaline only intensified as he feels Alec’s body fall right into place behind him, flush against him.

“Are you gonna do it here? Uhn? Right now?” Jace breathes, trying to look over his shoulder and feeling absolutely drunk on the arousal that takes over him.

Every single fucking time he’s with Alec, the excitement never fades one bit.

Alec grabs at his hair instead, forces his head back. Jace feels the hardness of Alec’s cock push against his ass, even through all their clothing, feels the way Alec rubs against him for a second.

Jace closes his eyes again, brain completely blissed out, trying to control his breathing with very little success, and then Alec moves so his mouth is next to Jace’s ear again.

“No.” He whispers.

Jace opens his eyes.

“You don’t get to ruin my mission, act like a bratty little bitch, tease me and still get what you want.” 

It’s like a bucket of cold water being dumped over Jace. He whines, all shame gone out of the window, when Alec gets go of him and steps back. His hand braces the wall as he starts turning around, eyebrows pulled up. “Alec,” he calls pleading.

Once again, Alec’s hand comes to Jace’s neck and pushes him back first into the wall this time. He brings his chin up, looks down at Jace, “pull yourself together.” Alec tells him, soft, barely above a whisper.

Footsteps start being heard coming back from the tunnels.

“I’ll consider dealing with you once we’re home,” Alec whispers, before his hand loosens up, and he steps closer to peck Jace on the lips, once, a ghostly soft touch that makes Jace groan in frustration, before he pulls back.

He needs to close his eyes for a second to control his breathing.

On the way home, he thinks of all the possible ways he could get Alec to give him what he wants.

Jace is willing to try them all if he has to.

If there’s one thing that Jace is, besides a bit of a little shit, that is stubborn.

#jalec #~drabble #lord this one was Something to write sjdfgbkhbgks #i loved it so much pls hgbskjgb #thank you so much again for sending me this!!!! #jaceofthebes

[carmenlire]

The Purrfect Companion

read on ao3

The potion is almost finished. It only needs to simmer for a few more minutes until it turns a ghastly mustard yellow. It’s a putrid green now and Magnus sighs as he continues his slow but steady counter-clockwise stirring.

This particular request was from a bastard of a client but he was willing to pay his thirty percent rush order fee and while the potion would be an irritant to the recipient, it didn’t violate his code of business ethics.

Biting back a yawn, Magnus blinks rapidly. It’s late at night-- probably verging closer to dawn than dusk-- and Alec’s out on patrol. Magnus had taken the opportunity to catch up on work in his apothecary. He’s always enjoyed these hours in-between and it’s soothing, working methodically through client orders.

Expecting Alec back in a few hours, he frowns a little. He sighs and there’s no one to hear him, to hear the disappointment that he’ll be crawling into a cool bed alone soon. It confounds him, exasperates him, but Magnus dreads falling asleep without his boyfriend.

It rarely happens these days. As Head of the Institute, Alec keeps much more regular hours and only ventures out on patrol during exceptionally trying times or-- once a week-- because he wants to keep a hand in the game.

What game, Magnus still has yet to learn but it keeps Alec on an even keel and always results in a slow, thoroughly appreciative bout of sex the next morning.

At least he has something to look forward to, Magnus thinks with a wry twist of his mouth. He always makes it a point to book appointments after noon the day after a night patrol is scheduled and those weekday mornings are some of his favorite hours in the week-- making breakfast for the two of them, reverently cataloging Alec as he stumbles to the breakfast table, still mostly asleep, their quiet conversation with laughter lingering in the undertones more often than not. It’s everything he wants in a relationship-- everything he could wish for him and Alexander.

He’s just pouring the potion into a small vial when he’s startled by his ringtone. Magnus has a habit of turning the volume all the way up when he knows Alec’s in the field-- he doesn’t want to miss a call or urgent string of texts if he’s needed.

Vicious curses slip from him as his heart immediately seizes in a dull panic. He shouldn’t be hearing from Alec and his mind starts whirling at those implications. Startled then, the mostly full vial slips out of his hands and falls to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

The potion splashes onto him, soaking through his clothes and Magnus has a very brief moment to think that he’s going to smite the bastard client into the next century for this.

In the next moment, he finds himself very small and very irritated. A plaintive noise escapes him as he gets his bearings.

He refuses to classify it as anything resembling a meow.

Sighing, Magnus lets his eyes close slowly and counts deliberately to ten-- and then fifty and then to one hundred for good measure.

By the time he’s opened his eyes again, his phone has fallen silent and it takes him much longer than it should to unlock his phone with his nose and play the voicemail that Alec had left him. He sags against the floor as his boyfriend’s words wash over him.

“Hey, babe, the city’s dead tonight so I told Jace and Iz to call it a night. I’m on my way home now.” There’s a contemplative beat of silence before he’s continuing, “You must have fallen asleep already. I can’t wait to join you; I’m dead tired. Love you and see you soon, Magnus.”

For the second time in as many minutes, Magnus closes his eyes and tries to sink into the space under his desk. He has no idea how Alec will react to his new body and the potion won’t fade for a full twenty four hours.

Deciding there’s nothing to be done about it, Magnus pads around his desk and out into the hallway. He spares a brief moment to hiss at the remnants of the potion before he heads to their bedroom and jumps up onto the bed.

It takes a few minutes to get comfortable but Magnus finally finds himself drifting off on Alec’s side of the bed, his boyfriend’s imminent return letting him relax enough to sleep.

Seeming like minutes later, Magnus is jarred awake by the sound of footsteps nearing. He doesn’t move-- he’s far too comfortable-- but he slits his eyes open just enough to watch Alec come into the room.

Alec doesn’t notice him and Magnus is struck by the opportunity to watch Alec from a different perspective. He watches as his boyfriend tugs his shirt off and throws it haphazardly in the direction of the hamper. Were he human, that would earn Alec a huff of exasperation but now he just glares and watches Alec run a hand through his hair and turn toward the bathroom.

Just a little while later, Alec’s collapsing in bed. He must not notice the cat just inches from his side and Magnus’s heart turns over as he watches Alec reach an arm out and make a little noise of disappointment when it runs across cool sheets.

“Must’ve been called away,” Alec mutters to himself. He sighs and then he starts moving. Magnus’s hackles rise as Alec starts unceremoniously ripping the covers away so that he can climb between them. It takes his boyfriend a moment or two to settle under the comforter and then he’s smashing his face into his pillow, sinking into the mattress with a moan that wouldn’t be amiss at another time.

Magnus doesn’t move right away. Instead, he sits on his own side of the bed, his tail moving slowly from side to side as he watches Alec. Like this, his love looks years younger. Really, it’s more like a weight’s been lifted from his shoulders that he carries stoically each and every day.

While it’s not news, it’s a little punch in the chest to see, once again, that Alec is so comfortable in his space, that he’s able to relax and enjoy being in Magnus’s little corner of the world.

He can’t help himself, though, and Alexander just looks so warm. Carefully, Magnus starts inching closer to Alec. He doesn’t want to startle the man but there’s a little space next to his stomach that looks like the perfect space to curl up and sleep.

When he’s close enough, Magnus very slowly and gently butts his nose against Alec’s arm. He knows that Alec will start to worry in the morning when he’s still nowhere to be found and he’s not quite sure how to tell Alec that he’s a cat for the next little while but all of that can wait until morning. Right now, Magnus feels the drag of sleep like a particularly heavy blanket and all he wants is to curl into his boyfriend’s side and worry about everything else later.

Alec hums a little but it seems he’s fallen straight to sleep for he doesn’t move anymore. In fact, those adorable little snores that Magnus so loves start escaping and Magnus’s ears twitch at the familiar sound.

He really doesn’t relish the thought of Alec waking in the night and shooing him out of bed in a dead panic though, so Magnus perseveres and meows very loudly.

Luckily, that’s enough for Alec to shift. Magnus butts against him again to gain his attention and when Alec’s gaze lands on him, he’s treated to a faint frown, even as his boyfriend reaches a hand out to pet him absently.

“Magnus didn’t tell you the rules, did he,” Alec asks with small smile. Magnus sees that he’s trying to look stern but he’s half asleep. “No cats in the bedroom.”

Meowing plaintively, Magnus arches into the touch. The noise turns into a purr of contentment as Alec’s warm palm slides over him.

Huffing out a laugh, Alec tries again. “I’m serious,” he says, not sounding so at all. “Magnus is going to hex you for getting fur all over his Egyptian cotton sheets. He bought them full price you know,” he adds with appropriate gravitas.

Magnus feels his expression morph into a scowl and then he’s opening his eyes to stare Alec down.

He’s surprised at Alec’s quick intake of breath that sounds suspiciously like a gasp.

“Magnus?”

Magnus’s ears perk up at the word and his tail cocks to the side as he just levels Alec with a look. He remains still as Alec carefully brings a hand up to his face, laying a thumb just under his eye.

Mouth opening on a breath, Alec bites his lip, obviously considering his words. Finally, he sighs and leans up onto one elbow. His gaze is sharp as he studies Magnus.

“Blink twice if it’s you, babe.”

Magnus swishes his tail as he closes his eyes for a long beat. When he opens them again, he can tell that Alec’s holding his breath. He pauses a moment-- making Alec sweat a little-- before he repeats the motion.

That done, he straightens and moves the few inches close to Alec’s side. Resting his head on Alec’s forearm, he wraps his tail around himself and melts into his boyfriend. It’s silent for a moment before Alec’s sighing and moving until he’s covering Magnus with a careful hand. Magnus sinks even more in the hold and hears Alec laugh a little.

“Your eyes gave you away, you know. It’s just your unglamoured eyes. They’re still stunning. Which, admittedly, is not something I thought I’d ever say to a cat,” he grumbles under his breath but Magnus is too content to do more than purr. He's not even embarrassed by the volume or fervor. IT feels too damned good to be surrounded by Alec, to hear his love declare, yet again, the his warlock mark is anything but abhorrent.

Alec strokes a hand down his back as he warns, “We’re talking about this tomorrow, babe-- or, well, whenever you change back.”

Magnus, of course, doesn’t say anything. He just moves his tail so that it drapes over Alec’s arm and falls asleep to Alec snoring.

When he wakes up in the morning, it’s to find that he’s resting on Alec’s back. Curled into a little ball, Magnus doesn’t move immediately. He’s perfectly content with the vibrations of Alec’s snores under him and his boyfriend is warm.

He passes some time licking his paws before he gets bored. There’s nothing to do like this so he starts sniffing along Alec’s back, nosing up until he reaches his neck.

Alec grumbles but doesn’t wake and Magnus decides it’s time to take matters in hand. He jumps off Alec and starts batting at his arm. He watches as Alec frowns before he’s slowing opening his eyes.

To his credit, he’s not startled when he sees Magnus staring intently at him. No, he just smiles a little-- his sleepy grin that Magnus loves to tease out in the mornings-- and raises a hand. Magnus takes the invitation and gently butts it with his hand, encouraging Alec to pet him.

“Morning,” he says hoarsely and Magnus meows a reply that’s as indecipherable to him as it probably is to Alec.

They pass a little while like that as Alec wakes up. It’s quiet and Magnus finds that unlike last time he was treated to this potion-- Ragnor hadn’t let him live it down for decades-- this time around he’s not anxious or overly annoyed. While he’d much rather have opposable thumbs and the ability to kiss Alexander properly, he’s definitely not complaining about his morning.

“Blink twice if this is reversible,” Alec says out of nowhere and Magnus blinks twice immediately.

“Good.” Alec grunts and then turns so that he’s on his back. “I don’t know what I’d do if my boyfriend had turned into a cat for the rest of eternity.”

Magnus can’t help himself and he pads over to Alec until he’s on his chest. They stare at each other for a few moments and then Alec’s sighing as he scratches behind his ears.

“As much as I’d love to stay home all day, I do need to get some work done. Do you want me leave you be or do you want to come to the Institute with me? I’m sure neither option is ideal but at least at the Institute you could keep me company as I do paperwork. There’s even a fireplace. Cats are supposed to like those, right?”

Magnus doesn’t react as he considers his options. He’s sure that Alec would leave him some food and turn the tv on if he indicated that he didn’t want to leave the loft today. Truthfully, that had been his plan all along. Better to ride this out in the safety and comfort of his own home.

But as he runs Alec’s offer through his head, it’s certainly alluring. While the idea of being in the Institute in this form would’ve been intolerable just a short time ago, Magnus finds that he likes the idea of padding through the halls at Alec’s side, twining between his feet, sitting on the corner of his desk and watching him work.

And he definitely won’t rule out the idea of a nap in front of the hearth. It is November, after all, and chilliness seeps into the walls of the Institute. Or better yet, Magnus thinks, he could nap in Alec’s lap. Yes, he really likes that idea better.

It’s all so devastatingly easy to picture.

Magnus lets Alec know his decision by jumping out of bed and starting toward the door. He looks behind him and cocks his head to the side and Alec laughs as he throws the covers off and starts to climb out of the bed.

“Yeah, yeah. I have to get ready first, babe.”

Magnus nods and leaves Alec to his shower. He spends the next little while wandering around his loft. It’s home but from this vantage point it all seems a little overwhelming. He’s thankful when Alec comes through the doorway and into the living room.

Walking over to him, Magnus slinks against his ankle and he’s rewarded with Alec leaning over and petting him. “Let me grab a coffee-- I don’t think you’d be welcomed in Starbucks-- and we can head out. Okay?”

Magnus meows his acquiescence and soon enough Alec’s opening the front door and heading to work.

Under his breath, Magnus hears him add, “A cat walking calmly alongside a guy without a leash or anything is definitely not the weirdest thing New York’s ever seen, right?”

Magnus has fourteen hours left until he’s back to normal and he counts the seconds down. Admittedly, not as obsessively as he would if he didn’t have Alec but. Still.

The rest of the day promises to be an adventure, if nothing else.

#my writing #the purrfect companion #malec fic #idk what this is tbh but it was fun to write!

[lynne-monstr]

several more appendages than usual

written for tentacletober day 1: tentacle cuddles

ao3 link

Magnus is halfway across the room, pillow clutched to his chest, when Alec’s voice stops him in his tracks.

“Where are you going?”

Busted. Not that Magnus is surprised. Not really. Alec’s senses are honed to an edge every bit as sharp as the tips of his arrows, and while there’s no danger here in their bedroom, some instincts aren’t so easily turned off.

Magnus’ shoulders slump and only centuries of ironclad control keeps him from wincing at the extra weight on his back that shifts with him. None of the strain shows in his voice when he answers, “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d try the couch.”

It’s not really a lie. He can’t sleep and he does think the couch will help. It’s just…well, it’s not the whole truth, either.

“Magnus,” Alec sits up, a dark silhouette with messy hair. He sees right though Magnus, the way he always does. It’s both comforting and terrifying in equal measure. There’s so much in that one word, so much love and longing and comfort wrapped up in the way he says Magnus’ name. Magnus could live a thousand lifetimes hearing it and never get over the way it makes his heart stutter.

Is it any wonder he takes a step back towards the bed, drawn towards the sheer warmth of Alec’s affection? Magnus is a strong man—he has to be in order to survive this long—but the walls around his heart are no match for Alec’s devotion. He takes one step and then another, until halfway to the bed he finally wrests control back from his traitorous heart.

It’s control that’s the problem here, the reason’s he’s fleeing their bedroom with nothing but a pillow. Well, with almost nothing but a pillow.

“Is this about the…” Alec trails off, the dark shadow of his arm gesturing towards Magnus. Rather, to the extra appendages Magnus is currently sporting. “…The tentacles?” Alec says, like he’s still tasting the strange word on his tongue. “I told you already, I don’t mind them. Come back to bed.”

A careless wave towards the bedside lamp suffuses the room in a soft glow. Magnus regrets it the moment he can clearly see Alec, rumpled and adorable in their bed. His boyfriend’s face is creased from sleep and his fingers clench around the silk sheets at his chest. The couch seems cold and lonely in comparison.

Magnus grips his pillow tighter. “I can’t control them.” It hurts to admit but Alec deserves to hear the truth.

As if on cue, the mass of tentacles at his back flares up around him, restless and wanting. It’s his own desire to touch Alec, reflected and augmented by this particular brand of magic. The chilly night air isn't helping. The urge to seek refuge under the covers is strong, to hold Alec and be held in return. Except now his embrace consists of several more appendages than usual.

Alec shakes his head, patting the empty space next to him “I don’t care.”

“It’s only for a little while. Until things are back to normal.” The tightness in his chest is back. It isn’t possible to love this man any more than he already does, but somehow Magnus manages it. Which is why he forces himself towards the door, inch by painful inch.

As much as he isn’t thrilled about his current situation, he doesn’t regret stepping in front of the spell that did this to him. A warlock under his tutelage had lost control of his magic, what else was there to do but shield him from it? It was simple enough to use his own power to divert the spell into something harmless, but it was hardly something a novice was capable of doing.

Magnus would do it again without hesitation. It was his duty as a mentor to protect his students from their own mistakes, even when those mistakes were made because an overeager young warlock overestimated his abilities and attempted a dangerous ritual behind his teacher’s back. It was pure luck Magnus had been tuned into the ebb and flow of the city's magic deeply enough to recognize the danger when he did. He could only hope that watching another bear the brunt of his poor judgement would be enough for young Luis to learn his lesson.

For now, Magnus hovers in the doorway of his bedroom. “You'll have me all to yourself soon enough, Alexander. Another week and the tide will be high enough that I can perform the counter spell.”

His tentacles wrap tight around his own chest at the proclamation, and Magnus feels the first stirrings of guilt. Which is ridiculous. It’s his body and his magic to do with as he pleases. The tentacles are a manifestation of Magnus himself, it’s foolish to feel guilty for wanting to be rid of them.

The tentacles only hold onto him tighter.

A muffled laugh escapes Alec’s lips. “Maybe they don’t like me best after all.”

Magnus nearly stumbles at the speed his tentacles surge towards Alec. He catches himself on the edge of the door frame, glaring at the writhing mass straining towards the bed. Looking up, his gaze catches on Alec. There’s no edge of revulsion in the curl of his lips, no flinching away from the eager hoard of tentacles reaching out for him. He looks at Magnus the way he always does, like there’s no one but the two of them in the entire world.

The brittle strain in Magnus’ ribcage eases. Maybe this won’t be the disaster he feared when he first woke up and saw his tentacles wrapped around Alec from head to toe. He’d been terrified in that moment, afraid he had somehow hurt Alec with no awareness on his part. It had been centuries since he’d lost control of anything but a minor glamour, and he hated the feeling of helplessness that rose up in his throat. He was Magnus Bane. Helplessness was something that happened to other people.

Except now he can’t even control his own body.

He presses his lips together, and takes a tentative step forward. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” It’s as close to asking as he can bring himself to get.

Alec just rolled his eyes. “No such thing,” he said, his voice pitched in that way he does when he’s trying to imitate Magnus.

Magnus straightens his shoulders. “I don’t sound like that!”

“Yes you do.” Alec pats the empty bed once more. “Now get in here before I have to get my stele and convince you the hard way.”

It’s like a dam breaking. Magnus practically pounces on him, but Alec is ready, rolling with their momentum so that he comes up on top, straddling Magnus’ hips. Magnus doesn’t fight as his wrists are pinned to the bed. Alec’s weight on him is grounding, reassuring.

Magnus looks up at him and winks. "Maybe I want the hard way."

"Next time," Alec promises, and closes the distance between their lips. The kiss is soft rather than heated and ends with their foreheads pressed together.

Closer, he needs to be closer. Magnus' arms are pinned but that doesn’t stop his tentacles. They wrap around every inch of Alec, around his chest and his stomach, his arms and his thighs. They pull Alec down, pull him to Magnus and wind around them both until neither of them can move.

The familiar dread is a poison seeping through the cracks of Magnus’ contentment. But this time it’s stopped in its tracks at the soft, contented laugh that vibrates in Alec’s chest. “Mmm, this is nice. Maybe you should keep them.”

They can’t move very much, wrapped up together as they are, but Alec manages to lean forward just enough to brush a kiss against Magnus’ chin. He follows it up with another to one of the tentacles.

Magnus melts under his touch. “Maybe I should.”

He strains against the constraining hold of the tentacles, aching to hold Alec in his arms. Just like that, the tentacles shift, loosening their hold just enough so that Magnus can free his hands and run fingers down Alec’s back. Alec, who sighs into his neck arches his back for more.

The last of the tension drains away. Alec isn’t upset or afraid. He should probably be annoyed at being made into a Nephilim cocoon but he seems content to lay pressed against Magnus in a tangle of limbs and tentacles. If anything, he shuffles closer as sleep pulls him under, his hand reaching for one of the many tentacles and pulling it towards his chest.

Alec isn’t repulsed and a little voice in the back of Magnus’ head, small but growing, insists that he never will be. Not for the first time, Magnus begins to believe it

This time when he drifts off to sleep, it’s without fear or worry.

#shadowhunters #malec fanfic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #tentacletober #magnus x tentacles #lynne writes fic #me @ me: why you so awful at pure fluff

[lumenlignum-blog]

I demand a drabble about the first meeting between Alec and Kai. Also I love you.

His shop is closed for the night. Wards sealed tightly and unrepentant about their rejection of all creatures, be they demon or angel blooded. It’s been a long week, and Alec thinks he’s earned a moment to himself in the privacy of his library. 

But the unrelenting knocks bleed through walls of concrete, and wood paneling, and glass, carried through by tendrils of magic as their own instinctive sort of alarm.

After a long, stubborn attempt at ignoring the noise, Alec finally looks up from his work table. 

Whoever is at his door, they’re not letting up, which means it’s not a curious mundane hoping to take a look at his rare books. If it were Magnus, the wards would have opened for him the second he touched the door. Which leaves anyone who might have business with the high warlock after hours. 

He sighs.

Scrubbing his face, Alec returns to the shop, sealing the entrance to his library with a wave of his hand, and meanders through rows of shelves that have been placed explicitely to keep the back of the store out of sight from the window display.

The man he finds at his door is a familiar face. A boy, more like. Though last time Alec saw him, he was deathly pale and covered in demon ichor, brought in by his terrified partner and trailing blood all over his floor. 

Magnus Bane’s older brother. Kai, that was his name.

Given how sure Alec had been that they would not be able to save him, he finds himself actually glad to see the boy back on his feet. Thought he can’t say the sentiment extends to this interruption of his rare night off.

He’s sure his feelings are evident on his face, and at least the shadowhunter has the decency to look apologetic when he meets Alec’s scowling eyes through the tinted glass. Alas, no matter the cat’s nature, curiosity will always be what kills him.

Heaving a sigh, and rolling his eyes for good measure, Alec parts the warding in the shop just enough to open the door and allow the boy in.

“Thank you, Mr. Lightwood.” Kai is quick to showcase his manners. He seems genuine enough, if a little sheepish. Alec closes the door. “I thought I’d missed you, I was going to try my luck at your loft, next.”

“And what’s so urgent that couldn’t wait until business hours?” He walks away from the boy to find his favorite chair, behind the checker counter, sealing the wards once again with a wave of his hand.

Kai lingers at the door before following, dark eyes curiously taking everything in before he stands at attention across from the warlock. For that brief moment, he looked like Magnus, and Alec’s stern look softens slightly, despite his best intentions.

“A few things, but mostly, I didn’t want to risk anyone knowing I was here.”

Well, consider his interest piqued. 

Alec leans back in his chair, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Kai Bane falters briefly, and Alec thinks back to Magnus’ confidently stated opinions about his big brother. The ideal shadowhunter, the best the New York Institute, if not the Clave itself, had at its disposal. 

All the High Warlock of Brooklyn can see is a lost boy.

“Well?”

His impatience finally seems to nudge the shadowhunter on, and Kai finds his words.

“I wanted to thank you—before anything else.” He stands tall, every bit the good soldier that Magnus is. “For saving my life.”

“I had help.” He couldn’t have saved the boy without Magnus’ strength, or Diego’s blood magic. But the sentiment seems genuine, so Alec relents, nodding. Kai mirrors him.

One down, let’s see how many to go.

“I wasn’t sure if a report had been sent to you about what we found in those sewers, but I wanted to be sure.” Alec tilts his head, curious. “We think one of Iris’ hideouts may be down there, we’re going to send a team in tomorrow to check it out.”

Alec studies the boy with icy cat eyes. It’s a thoughtful gesture on his part, to be sure—to keep him in the loop about whatever the Institute has planned in the war against Iris. But it’s not one that should concern a high warlock. Not without motive.

“Are you asking me to help with the aftermath? I can’t heal demonic infection form those hybrids on my own, and I haven’t made a suitable antidote for it yet.” Kai knows that. And it’s the only reason Alec admits to the fact. There’s no use lying about his limitations when the boy has experienced them first hand.

“I want you to come with us.”

The request steals his words, and Alec’s eyebrows rise up to his hairline. 

“This is Clave business, boy. Perhaps you should go back to your Institute and read my file again.”

Both Lightwood twins have made it very clear that they will not get involved with the Clave and their missions. They will keep the peace by following the Accords, but where the warlocks in their charge are concerned, any and all justice will be dealt by the Lightwoods, not the Nephilim. 

But Kai holds his ground, not once looking away. There’s a stiffness to the way his stands that no amount of discipline could ever hide. The boy was at death’s door barely a week ago. He should still be resting.

“This is not my jurisdiction. And you should consider staying out of this mission too. No amount of magic can speed up the recovery of demonic inf—”

“Magnus is going.”

Alec’s attention snaps back to dark eyes, and the warlock would curse himself for his lack of subtlety if his stomach wasn’t sinking like a stone.

Kai seems to take that as a sign to carry on.

“My father’s taken me off the team, but I’m not about to let my little brother go down there without me. We have no idea how many of those hybrids are protecting Iris’ hideout.”

The boy’s eyes are pleading at him now, almost angry in the way they glare at the warlock from across the counter. He’s torn, and Alec has to wonder if it’s for Magnus’ sake that Kai won’t give words to the emotions and understanding boiling over on his tongue

Anything Alec says will only confirm what he can already see in Kai’s eyes. So he says nothing.

“Please.” A Shadowhunter begging for help from a Downworlder. Not only that, but Asmodeus Bane’s eldest son. Alec has to wonder how the man would react to this scene, if he were here. 

“I know you care about him.” Icy eyes gleam with a warning, but Kai won’t be deterred. “And I know he cares about you too. I’ve seen it.”

Alec thinks about denying it. But his decision was made the second Kai brought up his brother. The memory of a sleepy whisper and a heartbeat against his own are still fresh in his mind.

                                                I love you. I love you, Alec.

“Please. Help me keep him safe.” Kai’s voice breaks, a scared boy begging him to help his little brother. God, they really are just children. He heaves a quiet sigh, eyes falling shut for a moment.

When he looks at the shadowhunter, there is nothing but hard conviction in his expression. The Prince of Storms with his icy eyes.

“Send me a fire message when it’s time.” He orders, with all the authority of the High Warlock of Brooklyn. 

“I’ll go with you.”

#chatoyerdemoniste #v: reverse #WELP #JAHSDGJ this got a little long #m: drabble #ask

[bytheangell]

Drop Your Guard

(Read on AO3) (Flufftober Day 14: Roommates)

When Alec needs help covering rent and Clary offers her friend Simon up as a potential roommate, Alec has his doubts. 

“I just don’t think rooming with your ex is a good idea,” Alec says. 

Clary gives an eye-roll fit to rival Alec’s usual specialty facial expression. “Stop calling Simon my ‘ex’ when you know we’re best friends. And you’ve met him a few times! You liked him!” 

“I absolutely did not,” Alec insists. But he also didn’t totally hate the guy, and outside of his siblings Alec’s friend list is pretty short and the idea of resorting to a random craigslist ad to split the rent isn’t ideal, either.  “Fine. But if we hate each other and I kick him out and it ruins your friendship forever, you can’t blame me.” 

“I absolutely can,” Clary counters, mimicking his own dramatic phrasing a moment before with a slight smirk. “But it won’t. I have a good feeling about this.” 

---

A few days later Simon Lewis is dragging a guitar case and a duffle bag into Alec’s - no, their - apartment. 

“I have a good feeling about this,” Simon says, and Alec takes a deep breath over the sense of deja vu that declaration gives him. 

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Alec agrees, which isn’t quite the same as having a ‘good’ feeling, but it’s close enough. 

And it was fine… for approximately 45 minutes. 

And then Simon found out Alec had never seen Star Wars. 

It took all of 5 seconds before Simon had a DVD in his hand, making his way over to the television. 

“What are you doing?” Alec asks. 

“We’re going to watch it. Well, the first one, at least. There are the three originals, and then then three-”

“Let me stop you right there. One, I have plans today. And two, I don’t want to watch one of those ridiculous movies, let alone six -”  “It’s actually nine once we get to the new-” 

“You’re not helping your case,” Alec informs him. “I’m sorry. I just have zero interest in them. Or comic book things, before you get on me about those,” Alec adds for good measure, to avoid this turning into a second conversation later. 

He’s already grabbing his keys and his jacket, heading towards the door before Simon can try and convince him to say. 

“Fine. You win for now, but it’s only a matter of time. You’ll see!” 

Alec isn’t sure if that’s meant to sound like a promise or a threat, or maybe a little bit of both, but he just shakes his head as the door closes behind him. 

--- 

Over the next few months Simon tries again and again to get Alec to sit down with him in the living room and watch movies. When that fails Simon resorts to having either Star Wars or some superhero movie or another on the television in the living room at any given moment. Alec catches bits and pieces in passing, and after a while stops actively avoiding the living room and starts pausing for a few minutes here or there if something catches his eye, or sitting down for parts of a movie here and there when he’s bored. Hilariously enough (to Alec, certainly not to Simon), Simon seems even more upset when Alec only catches a middle or, heaven forbid, the ending of something, rather than the entire movie. 

When Simon realizes that Alec just isn’t the sort of person to sit and watch a movie on a whim, even if it’s a movie he does care about, Simon switches up his tactics and starts leaving comic books strategically around the apartment. Alec knows what Simon’s doing, and for a while he refuses to so much as touch one. But one day while Simon isn’t around his curiosity gets the better of him and he picks up the Captain America comic Simon left on the kitchen counter while he’s waiting for the timer on the oven to go off. It isn’t that bad, even if it isn’t what he’d normally pick up to read, and he finds himself making a mental note of his ending spot when the oven beeps and he puts it down to eat. 

When he finishes that one he has a very serious internal debate over what to do next, stubbornly not wanting to give Simon the satisfaction of knowing he was successful, but also suddenly desperately wanting to know what happens next in the storyline he stopped in the middle of. Thankfully the second volume is one Simon leaves in the living room next. The third one, however, he has to sneak out of Simon’s collection, careful to return it back into the sleeve without any sign it’d ever been removed. 

He lingers a little longer during the movies after that - especially ones with War Machine, because of a single clip of him having more common sense than everyone else in the entire ensemble cast put together. If Simon notices he doesn’t say anything, and Alec doesn’t realize how convenient it is that the same Iron Man movie seems to play more often for him to catch all of over the course of a few days. 

...Alec sneaks one onto his computer to watch the second with headphones on, putting it back on the DVD rack before Simon gets home. He multitasks it with a few other things, but he mostly watches it from start to finish, and realizes the flaw in his plan to keep his new obsession a secret from Simon: he wants to talk about it with someone.

Alec manages to not say anything for two more days until he’s passing through the living room to the kitchen and hears Simon say very loudly to Clary, “If only Captain America and War Machine weren’t so boring-” 

Which prompts an instinctive, “It isn’t boring to be responsible and have a modicum of common sense in the face of Tony's brash--” from Alec before he stops short, realizing what he’s done by the smirk on both Simon and Clary’s face.  “AHA!” Simon shouts, jumping over the sofa to rush to Alec’s side. “I knew you were the one putting those comics back out of place.” 

“I put them back where I got them!” Alec insists. 

“You put them in  backwards . I have all the tops facing to the right of the box,” Simon says. Alec realizes he must’ve been in such a hurry to get in and out of the room without getting caught he might’ve overlook that particular detail when returning the comic to its sleeve.   

“You know, it’s okay to like things, Alec. I dare say, it’s very American of you to cave to a few social norms.” 

“Please stop,” Alec pleads.  “I'll stop on one condition: you join Clary and me for Iron Man 3 tonight,” Simon says. 

Alec hesitates, sure he can come up with a million excuses if he wants to, but finds himself nodding instead. Now that he's dropped his guard he isn't particularly eager to put it back up. “Alright, I’m in.” 

Maybe this whole roommate thing might be good for him after all.

#simon lewis #alec lightwood #clary fray #shadowhunters #my favorite brotp #i just want simon and alec to be friends okay #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #i swear i'm done with the MOnday fic spam fjdskljflks;ajfsa

[lewispandawrites]

Christmas cookies

Jaia, 2411 words, T rated

Huge thanks to my beta - @wewalkadifferentpath <3

It was barely after 5pm, when Maia got home. It had been an eventful day at the Youth Centre where she worked, so she felt as if she had been on her feet for 20 hours, instead of 8. Christmas was a tense period for the kids from dysfunctioning families who went there, so her service as a psychologist was needed more during that time. She just wished she could help all of them, but her abilities were limited. Were it not for Luke, who had ordered her to go home, she would probably have stayed at work until the late hours of the night.

Once she opened the door, she was greeted with the smell of freshly-baked cookies and the sounds of laughter and christmas songs. She smiled, taking off her coat and hat, then followed the music.

“Mmm. And what is that smell?” Maia said over the tune of ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’.

“Mommy!” an excited voice shouted, then two tiny arms wrapped around her middle. The woman chuckled, petting her daughter’s hair, then looked at her younger child, who was wiggling in Jace’s grasp.

“Zoe! Let go of mom, your hands are dirty,” Jace chastened, while trying to keep Aisha firmly in place.

“It’s okay. Those clothes need to be washed anyway,” Maia replied, and only then did Jace put Aisha down on the floor so the girl could run up to join the hug.

“We made gingerbread cookies!” Zoe proudly announced, looking up at her mom. Her own clothes were protected by a linen apron, that stated ‘best cook in the universe.’ Aisha, on the other hand, was clinging to Maia’s pants, and jumping excitedly up and down, singing along to the song. The words were barely understandable, since she was a little breathless from all the jumping, but she was having fun anyway. Her own apron had ‘unicorns are real’ embroidered at the front, and was a present from granny Maryse.

“So soon? We may eat all of them before Christmas.” Maia looked at Jace in a silent question. She was glad the girls had so much fun, but it was indeed a little bit too early for doing any Christmas preparations.

“Not too early. Cookies are good all year,” Aisha chimed in, then licked the rest of the icing from her tiny hand - most of it had already been transferred to Maia’s shirt.

“Girls. Why don’t you wash your hands, then find another Christmas playlist? This one doesn’t have Ariana Grande on it,” Jace suggested.

Aisha immediately bolted towards the bathroom. Both of her parents knew that she would only wipe her dirty hands on the towel, skipping the washing part altogether, but it was a still a small victory - at least there would be no red or green icing on the keyboard.

“Wait!” Zoe called after her sister, running after her.

Once they were out of earshot, Jace turned to his wife to finally answer her question. “Aisha’s class was baking gingerbread cookies today.” Maia already knew where it was going, and her tiredness came back with a renewed force. “I told her teacher that I could bring carob, so she can enjoy some cookies with her classmates, but her teacher thought it would be ‘too much fuss.’” Jace huffed angilly, while arranging the already decorated cookies on the tray.

He looked up and saw anger and resignation battle on Maia’s face. “Hey.” He wiped his hands clean on the kitchen towel, then walked to her to embrace her from behind, careful not to dirty her clothes even more. “We made more than enough cookies to last us through the whole month. The kind of cookies that you can enjoy.” Both Maia and Aisha were allergic to cocoa, so the family used carob in their recipes instead - it was a safe substitute for the brown powder. But, clearly, baking a few cookies without cocoa had been too much to ask from the school. “And I can always go there again and make a scene. I didn’t want to make one with her present, or take her back home for the day. She was excited to bake with her classmates and she is a smart girl - just like her mom.” He emphasised the statement by kissing Maia’s cheek, and she couldn’t help but smile. “I knew she wouldn’t try to eat them.”

“There’s no need for a scene. But I will have a conversation with her teacher next time I’m at school,” Maia replied, then turned around in Jace’s arms. “Hey.”

“Hello.” He leaned in to kiss her again, but they were interrupted by the shriek coming from the living room. Jace buried his face in Maia’s neck with a smile, while she chuckled.

“That’s what your day is like, when you have kids,” she told him, then pushed him back gently. “Go check what happened and I’ll get changed. Did you leave me some cookies to decorate?”

“Some? Honey, we still have 50 cookies to go through.” Her eyes widened as he showed her the amount of cookies that were on the various plates on the counter.

With a smile, Jace went to check on the girls, who, apparently, had decided to have a throwing contest. Aisha was climbing on a chair, clutching her plushie bunny, while Zoe was measuring the distance between the chair and her own plushie using her steps.

“You are cheating!” Aisha shouted while giggling. “You are making smaller steps!”

“I’m not!” Zoe yelled back.

“Girls.” Jace picked up Aisha before she could stand on the chair again. “You were supposed to pick a playlist, not try to break something.” The little girl giggled again, while her sister crossed her arms.

“We won’t break anything. We’re throwing soft objects, and all the glass things are in other direction.”

“We won’t!” Aisha agreed loudly, then threw the bunny-bun in a random direction, barely missing the lamp.

“Alright, enough of that,” Jace told them. Before any of the girls could object, he motioned towards the kitchen. “Don’t you want to decorate cookies with mom?”

Aisha squeaked in delight, clasping her hands around her dad’s neck tightly, while Zoe reluctantly followed them to the kitchen. Jace felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, so he put Aisha down on the kitchen stool, then checked his texts.

“Anything interesting in there?” Maia asked him, while eyeing Zoe pour sticky green icing over a few cookies, unsupervised. Her husband seemed to be completely elsewhere, while their kitchen turned into a warzone.

“What?” He glanced up from his phone, just in time to see Zoe drop a huge dollop of icing on the counter. “Shook.” He pocketed his phone quickly, then reached for a rag. “The icing should go on the cookies, Zo.”

Maia watched in amusement as her husband and her eldest daughter had a silent staring contest, the little girl still mad that her dad interrupter her fun. All that time, Aisha was drawing eyes and buttons on the gingerbread men, and singing under her breath.

“Stop you both, or no one will get presents this year.” Maia was met with three sets of eyes, one amused and two pleading. Aisha was the one being amused; Jace might be in his 30’s, but he still enjoyed the thrill of unpacking gifts on the Christmas morning, and a threat of not getting to do so was a serious one in his book .

“So.” He glanced down, slightly embarrassed that he had gotten into a staring contest with his kid. “Grandpa Luke has texted me. He and granny Maryse want to take kids out tomorrow, then keep them for the night.”

Out of the corner of his eye Jace could see Aisha getting ready to jump high in joy, so he wrapped his arms around her waist, to ensure that she would land on the stool safely. Zoe’s eyes were shining, the short feud with her dad already forgotten.

“Wow. He didn’t tell me anything at work today,” Maia replied, joining them by the kitchen isle. She reached for a plate full of cookies and a confectionery sleeve, filled up with yellow icing.

Luke was Jace’s adoptive dad, and all three of them had met in the Youth Centre years ago, where Luke had been working. She had been one of the kids who had gone there to escape their families, and then had stayed to work there, inspired by Luke and his heart of gold.

“Maybe it is their Christmas surprise for us, Magnus, and Alec. Baby Max will also be there.” Jace replied, and Maia’s face softened.

“Awww. He is such a cute baby. His eyes are sooooo blue.” Maia slobbered over the little boy. “And he is already sleeping through the whole night. I have no idea how Magnus and Alec managed to find him.”

“Uncle Magnus is a warlock,” Aisha said from her place by the kitchen isle. “He showed us magic tricks last week. And Maxie was helping him.”

“That explains a lot,” Jace replied, amused. “Hey, Zo.” The girl turned towards him. “Wanna finish my cookie? I think pink and purple would go great together.” He showed the girl a huge gingerbread heart, already done in pink icing by him, and she nodded eagerly.

“Those cookies are really good.” Maia commented, after biting into one. She hadn’t eaten anything since early lunch, and was now growing hungry. Jace’s eyes landed on her, concerned, and she tried to brush off his worry. But he knew her too well.

“How about the three of you finish decorating, while I make dinner?” he suggested, putting down his confectionery sleeve. The three girls nodded, so he went to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“Mom, look!” Aisha held up her cookie proudly, her tiny hand messing up the icing work. A cookie in a shape of a dinosaur was covered in a checkered pattern of white and silver lines, decorated with pale pink sugar pearls.

“It’s a beautiful cookie,” Maia praised her daughter, and the girl beamed.

“Can I add pearls to your cookies?” The youngest girl asked, pointing out to a plate of gingerbread snowmen, decorated by her mother.

“Of course,” Maia replied, then glanced at Zoe’s workstation. “Those little hearts are very pretty. We could gift some to granny and grandpa.” The girl smiled, then nodded, and started to pick out the most beautiful cookies for her grandparents.

Jace made it back to the kitchen, just in time for ‘Last Christmas’ to come through the speakers. “Daaaaaad,” the girls pleaded, and Jace rolled his eyes, already knowing what they wanted of him.

“I’m only doing it one last time,” he warned them with a smile, then quickly grabbed for a rolling pin and started to sing. “Laaast Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next - Aisha, stop jumping - it away.”

Maia laughed, as she saw her husband wipe the invisible tears from his eyes, then reach for a heart-shaped cookie and hand it to Aisha. He then put the rolling pin down, picked up Zoe and twirled her around, while she giggled.

“Once bitten, and twice shyyyyyyy.” Jace dramatically bent over the only clean surface on the kitchen island, lamenting loudly with the singer. When ‘but you still catch my eye’ line came up, he glanced at his wife, and sent her a wink, which made her shake her head in return.

Both girls shouted “Merry Christmas!” when the line came on, as their father walked around the kitchen, dancing and singing to the song. He stopped next to Maia, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“”I love you,” I meant it. Nooowwww, I know what a fooool I’ve been. But if you kiss me now…” Maia didn’t even let him finish - she tangled her hands in his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. Zoe’s ‘ewww’ could be heard over the lyrics, but the two adults only smiled into their kiss.

“Thank you all for listening to my amazing performance!” Jace bowed down, after breaking the kiss, then pecked Maia’s lips again, before going to the fridge to fetch some ingredients for dinner.

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

Long after the girls had gone to sleep, Maia and Jace found themselves cuddling on the couch, two empty mugs left on the coffee table. They didn’t have the christmas tree yet, so they took out one set of christmas lights and drapped it over the tv, to create the mood.

Jace was slowly dozing off - the soft lights, the weight of his wife against his chest and the warmth of the blanket wrapped around them lulling him to sleep. His stomach was full of delicious veggie couscous and hot chocolate, that he and Maia had finished a few minutes ago.

“I don’t think leaving the kids with Maryse and Luke is a good idea,” Maia spoke softly, and Jace pried his eyes open, trying to make sense of her words.

“Uhm?” he hummed quietly, careful to not wake up the girls.

“Remember the last time we were left alone, unsupervised? The Bali vacation?” she continued, with a small smile.

“That was 6 years ago. And we behaved nicely - we just had a head start on our second baby,” Jace replied, the corners of his mouth quirking up at the memory.

“Yes. A head start 2 weeks before we’d even started to consider when to have our second baby.” Alec liked to tease them that it was their fault that Aisha was such an energetic child - how could she not be, if she had been conceived during an exotic vacation, where Jace had broken his arm. “I’m afraid we may eat all the cookies while the girls are gone. You have really outdone yourself with them this year.”

Jace looked down at his wife. “If that’s the case, then we will have enough time to bake a new batch. And the girls won’t mind decorating again. We could have them for every meal tomorrow,” he replied, then wrapped his arms tighter around Maia. “I propose that we start celebrating our off day by falling asleep here, just like we did all those years ago.” He was referring to their first Christmas spent together in their first apartment, where they only had a couch - no bed - and a tiny tree, decorated with the cheapest set of lights.

“I knew there was a reason why I married you,” Maia said, then closed her eyes.

#jaia #dailyjaceherondale #maiarobertsdaily #Maia Roberts #Jace Lightwood #Jace Herondale #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfic

[vmprwtch]

➳

                                    kiss meme  // selectively accepting *!

6. A drunken kiss

fingers tremble and shake like bare boughs in winter. its a damn miracle he manages to press one of them to the side of his nose, a stretch of angel’s dust inhaled through the other side from the counter of a bathroom counter. the moment its finished, those fingers twitch maddeningly, scratching an itch deep within his nostrils that he knows he imagining as his pupils dilate and swallow the blue of his irises whole. in the mirror is a demon, a being of violence: cheekbones sharp like knives, eyes staring holes into the reflection, hair black as night and skin pale as bone. his trembling digits scratch at the skin beneath his nose as he finally exhales a shaky breath, settling just enough to reach for the cigarette still dimly burning at the edge of the sink. he takes a sad puff but its not enough. he reaches for his lighter, but with the flick of his thumb he sees only sparks. his trembling makes it impossible to fulfill such a basic, practiced motion. its too much, too infuriating. a primal scream tears through vocal chords already rubbed raw as one fist sends a cobweb of cracks through the bathroom mirror. he storms out of the bathroom, shaking shimmering glass from his knuckles and stabbing the cigarette into the wet hand towel offered him by an equally trembling bathroom attendant.

its bullshit. how many months did he spend on this collection? how many hours did he peruse the continent’s most illustrious museums, speaking with curators about fabric and draping styles of enlightenment france? he’d made a masterpiece of this collection, and they all agreed, every publication and every professional in the industry. but none measure up to the influence of his own father. caius had been disappointed in the profits, insisting he could have done the same work for a lower cost. he’d offered his congratulations, even admired the clothes up close but he simply couldn’t see the art. he saw numbers. he hardly had a moment to fight him on the issue before he’d taken a jet back to Italy, leaving alec wounded in London. 

so he improvised. he sought out the only one who took him out of his own world. of course the paps would follow - they always did. the flashes and stares would follow him everywhere, but rottweiler made it all melt away in a blur of pints and drugs and chavs. it was what he craved, even more than another shot which he easily snagged from another’s table as he stormed through the crowded nightclub. he needed rottweiler again. he couldnt figure out why, but he needed him desperately. he’d made a beeline for the bathroom thinking his blood was screaming for another hit, but his drug of choice for the night was the boy who made him forget. and he found him quite easily, right at the table Alec had bought for them. he pushes a hand through ebony locks damp with sweat on his brow, the action pulling up the hem of a cropped mesh shirt beneath which was the obvious glint of two silver bars through the tender skin of nipples. all it takes is a well placed shove and the taller boy is nearly on his back in the booth. he doesnt get a word of indignation in before black combat boots are mounting the booth too, knees straddling his waist as alec’s fingers wind tightly into his hair. his fiery response must die on his lips, as Alec’s mouth crashes down on his with shaky immediacy. he’s hungry for it, devouring them both as he kisses him with a passion, a mess of lips and tongue and teeth and the taste of booze and cigarettes. he’s got his fix.

#you know when I talk about Alec being A Mess behind his apathetic pretty boy exterior #I mean this #* LUSSO E PRIVILEGIO / verse iv. #rottweilerrr #* STAY TUNED / queue.

[eversall]

Can i get some uhhhh Jimon #46?? ❤

you sure can ❤ 

send me a ship and a kiss prompt from this list!

46. out of envy or jealousy 

Jace hates coffee. 

“That seems a little extreme,” Alec says, holding the door to the cafe open and giving Jace a very judgmental look. Jace glares at him, and then glares at the counter where Simon’s laughing at something the guy with the floppy hair is saying, and then he glares at Alec again for good measure before he deigns to step into the shop. 

Simon turns at the sound of the jingling bell, and his face lights up with a smile. “Jace! Alec! My favorite customers.” 

“Bet you say that to everyone who comes inside and drops five bucks on coffee,” Jace grumbles, but he grins back at Simon because it’s pretty impossible not to. The guy standing next to Simon clears his throat, and shares a meaningful look with Simon. Something small and green inside Jace’s chest snaps at the action, because he can’t ask Simon out if Simon already has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who clearly makes Simon happy and is cheerful and not an asshole like Jace, a boyfriend who seems to have a special, silent language with Simon that he’s probably using to tell Simon off right now for having a friend like Jace. 

Bat clears his throat, and Simon jumps. “Right! This - this is Bat, he owns the place,” Simon says as they walk up to the counter. Bat smiles at them, every inch as positive as Simon, and holds out his hand for them to shake. Jace stares at it, and Alec shoves Jace aside and shakes Bat’s hand for him. 

“A pleasure,” Alec says, smiling at Bat. His gaze cuts to Jace, and Jace can feel the unspoken lecture of you will behave and control this petty jealous, Jonathan Lightwood Herondale, or so help me God I’ll make you work the graveyard shift at the gym. 

“Simon’s told me so much about you,” Bat continues, looking at Jace, and Simon flushes, “about how h-”

“How helpful you were when we worked on that music theory project, yup!” Simon interrupts, making finger guns at Jace and then wincing at himself. Jace purses his lips and shakes his head at Simon. 

“Still not cool, Lewis.” 

“Hmph,” Simon pouts, and then waves a coffee cup at him, “Take it back, or I’ll make this decaf.” 

“Do not,” Jace says, horrified, and Simon laughs, waving him and Alec off as he gets to preparing their drinks. They sit at a table, and watch as Bat and Simon whisper about something, and Bat laughs, shoving Simon playfully as Simon groans and his face turns bright red. Jace makes a quiet, strangled noise and focuses on the table. 

After a while, he looks up to see Alec staring expectantly at him. “What?” 

“Wow,” Alec says, propping his chin on his hand, “you just - you really don’t pay attention to anything other than Simon, do you?” 

“Keep your voice down,” Jace hisses, “you wanna spill your brother’s deep dark secrets like this - “

“He’s not dating Bat,” Alec continues calmly, smiling placidly at Jace, “because Bat is dating Maia, which you would have heard her say when we all went out to the bar yesterday if you hadn’t been busy making eyes at Simon the whole time.” 

“I do not - “

“You have the mental capacity of a preschooler,” Alec says. There’s a burst of sound from the counter, and Jace glances over to see Bat holding a coffee cup up triumphantly over Simon’s head, writing something on it as Simon hops up and down like an enraged rabbit and tries to get to it. Jace opens his mouth, and then closes it, feeling annoyance bubble up in him. God, aren’t he and Simon friends? Good friends? Can’t he make Simon laugh like that, look at him softly and with wonder in his eyes, the way Simon always does whenever Jace says something unexpected - 

“Oh my God.” Alec reaches across the table and slaps at Jace’s shoulder. “Go get him, you idiot.” 

Decision made, Jace stands up, and Simon looks at him in surprise as Jace stalks behind the counter with purpose. He opens his mouth, maybe to say something, but Jace doesn’t give him a chance, and swoops in to press a kiss to Simon’s open mouth, curling his fingers into Simon’s ridiculous barista apron. Simon makes a surprised noise against his mouth, and then melts into Jace, his hands wrapping around Jace’s forearms as he returns the kiss. 

Jace breaks away, resting his forehead against Simon’s, and huffs out, quietly “Please go on a date with me.” Simon grins. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“About time!” Bat hollers, chucking the coffee cup at Jace, who catches it automatically. “This is Simon’s number on the cup, use it well, young grasshopper!” 

As Jace turns the cup over despite Simon’s protests and sees a scribbled note that says my man Simon thinks you’re the bees knees, so put him out of his misery and ask him to dinner ;), he begrudgingly decides that Bat’s not that bad. 

#jimon #jace herondale #simon lewis #shadowhunters #sh fic #i write sometimes #can y'all believe this is the first thing i've published for sh since like january or something idk #wanderingalonelypath

[lenaisanerd]

won’t you come on over

In which Izzy and Magnus hang out in the aftermath of swing a little further, paint their nails, and talk about relationships.

Read on AO3.

Listen on Spotify.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog!

Thanks again to my friends and editors @disaster-lesbiab, @raisehades and @beesarekind, who let me text them in the middle of the night to discuss this fic. I love you!

“You’ve reached the voicemail of Magnus Bane. Please don’t leave a message at the tone. I’m centuries old and even I think it’s outdated.”

“Magnus, it’s Izzy. Listen, we need to talk. Call me back as soon as you get this.”

A click resounded in Magnus’ ear, signalling the abrupt end of Isabelle’s message. The warlock stared at his phone in bemusement when next to him the coffee pot on the stove began to make gurgling noises. Magnus turned off the heat and divided the coffee between two cups, then added milk to one of them and handed the other cup to a very sleepy Alec, who had just walked into the kitchen. Alec took a careful sip and pressed a warm, coffee-flavoured kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. He pulled back, smiling softly, his hand resting on Magnus’ waist. Then he turned and padded out of the kitchen again.

Magnus followed to find Alec sitting at the table in the living room, looking out of the window at the thick clouds gathered over the East River and the Manhattan skyline. He had decided a while ago that he would never fully understand Alec’s enjoyment of rainy or gloomy weather. Admittedly, the steady patter of rain was soothing, and he even enjoyed the cool air flowing into the room through the open balcony door after the last few weeks had been relentlessly hot and humid. But rain like this, unending and monotone, just depressed him after a while, not to mention that leaving the house always meant getting ever so slightly wet, which was not one of Magnus’ favourite states of being.

Alec, however, seemed to delight in every rainstorm or light drizzle. It made him calm and he loved the fresh, cool air and the smell of rain on asphalt that permeated the city. In the soft grey light of the early morning his hazel eyes looked almost entirely green, framed by dark lashes still heavy with sleep. Magnus smiled fondly. Sometimes his boyfriend’s beauty still astounded him.

“I should call Isabelle back. Whatever it is sounds important.”

Alec’s brows furrowed. “Izzy called? On a Saturday, before 8 a.m.? Is something wrong?”

“Don’t worry, she didn’t seem too concerned. Besides,” Magnus said with a wry smile, dialing his phone, “she only called once and is not currently barging through the front door, so I expect she does not require immediate assistance.”

The phone rang one, two times, then Izzy’s clear voice came through the speaker: “Magnus, hi!”

She sounded out of breath, and in the background Magnus could hear the clanging of wood and metal echo through what must have been the Institute’s training room.

“Hey, Isabelle, you called earlier? Said you wanted to talk? I’m sorry, we just got up. You know how your brother is before he’s had coffee.”

Alec pulled a face at him. Magnus grinned.

“You… oh fuck, I’m sorry, did I wake you two up? I didn’t think about the time, I’ve been up for hours--”

“No, no, don’t worry, you didn’t disturb us. What’s the matter?”

The line went quiet for a moment. “Um, well. I was wondering if we could hang out today? Just the two of us? Of course if you want to spend the day with Alec, I completely understand, forget I asked.”

Normally, Isabelle Lightwood was a good bit more eloquent and less apologetic than this. Something is bothering her, Magnus thought. Well, there is only one solution.

“I would love to spend time with you. When should I expect you?”

Izzy seemed momentarily taken aback, but quickly caught herself, sounding carefree as ever. “Let me shower and get ready first, I’ll be there in an hour. See you then. Say hi to my brother dearest for me.”

“I’ll do that. Goodbye, Isabelle.”

 Alec got up and finished the last of his coffee just as Magnus hung up.

“Your sister sends her greetings, and herself. She’s coming over.”

“Then I guess I should make myself scarce for a few hours?”

 Magnus wrapped his arms around Alec’s waist, who returned the embrace.

“Gotta say, it’s pretty cold of you, just kicking me out like that,” Alec said with a completely straight face.

Although he would never tell him that, sometimes Alec’s deadpan humour almost fooled Magnus, with the Shadowhunter’s uncanny ability to instantly switch from sincere to sarcastic.

“Well, it’s for a good cause. And we’ll have the whole afternoon and evening to ourselves. We could order some food, watch a movie. I would even,” Magnus said with deliberation, “go on a walk with you. In the rain.”

Alec relented and his expression softened. He sighed.

“I still have some work to do back at the Institute anyway. I’ll go in now and when I come back,” he smiled deviously, “I’ll take you up on that walk offer. No umbrellas.”

Magnus leaned back against the safe grip of Alec’s arms, raising one hand to his temple and fluttering his eyelids with dramatic flair.

“Oh, what have I done to deserve such a merciless lover? Will he never let me rest?”

Alec giggled and pulled Magnus back up so the warlock could kiss him languidly, until Magnus finally let go to allow him to get his shoes and jacket.

“I’m just saying, if you think that Cate Blanchett is not the hottest person on screen at any given time, you are wrong! Wrong and blind!” Izzy said between sips of tea.

“Are you kidding me? This movie gives you Rihanna, Anne Hathaway and Richard Armitage and you go only for Cate Blanchett? You are limiting yourself.” Magnus gestured pointedly at her with the nail polish brush he was holding.

Izzy scoffed. “Richard Armitage was barely in this movie, and you want to tell me he’s more beautiful than Cate Blanchett? Please. He’s like a snooty Hugh Jackman. Don’t tell me you think that’s attractive.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows and said nothing. Instead he concentrated on applying a clean second coat of polish to Isabelle’s toenails. Her leg stretched almost the length of the sofa, with Magnus sitting on the opposite end, her foot in his lap. Almost two hours after Izzy had arrived at the loft the coffee table was crowded with snacks, a teapot and cups, and several bottles of nail polish. Isabelle’s fingernails were already coloured a deep violet, and she was holding her teacup gingerly to not mess up the paint job. A Bangles album was playing softly on the stereo, the beat intermingling with the sound of raindrops hitting metal roofs.

“There, Mademoiselle Lightwood. All done,” Magnus said as he performed a small flourish with the brush on Isabelle’s nail.

Isabelle sat up and pulled her knees to her chest to admire his work. The whole time she had spent at his apartment, Izzy had not dropped even a hint regarding the topic she had been so eager to discuss this morning on the phone. This was a fact Magnus was keenly aware of, and he was itching to ask her about it.

But a lot of experience interacting with the Lightwood siblings had taught him differently. They could rarely be pushed into talking about a specific thing and would only say something when they were absolutely ready for it. Which of course didn’t mean they were always graceful about it. Alec had a habit of stumbling over words when he tried to get something out of his system as quickly as possible and hadn’t really thought about what he was going to say.

With Izzy, however, it was the opposite. She would decide she had to talk about something, but then spent anywhere from ten minutes to the next few hours talking about anything_ but_ what was on her mind originally, until she felt sufficiently prepared to do it, at which point she would change the topic very suddenly. Attempting to hurry that process along would cause her to clam up immediately.

So the only thing to do was to wait. And Magnus was no stranger to waiting after all the time he had been alive, but that didn’t mean he liked doing it.

“Flawless, as always,” Izzy said, still examining her perfectly manicured nails. “Who knew 800-something-year-olds had such steady hands?”

“Well, let’s see how steady your hands are, young whippersnapper,” Magnus shot back with a smirk, “you’re doing mine next. But first--” he stood and picked up the tea tray--”I’m making some more tea. Any requests?”

Izzy smiled magnanimously and finished her cup. “Surprise me!”

Magnus nodded and turned towards the kitchen. As he measured tea leaves into the pot he heard steps behind him, and then a soft thump. The warlock looked up to see Isabelle perched on the counter next to where he was standing, her bare feet dangling above the floor, dark eyes watching his motions intently.

“Already bored without me?” Magnus asked, only half joking. Izzy could have something of an impatient streak, especially when there was something on her mind she’d rather not think about.

“Hmm?” Izzy made a distracted little sound and looked up at Magnus. “I was just wondering if you needed some help, that’s all,” she replied, in a tone that was so casual it was almost conspicuous. “Feels weird, suddenly doing nothing after all that work at the Institute. The last week was hell.”

Magnus sighed in sympathy. “Tell me about it. I was doing work for clients all week, otherwise I would have come to help you with that demon infestation. Why is it that people always decide they want something from you when ten others decide the same thing?”

“Right? If I ever have to fix some kids’ stele again it will be too soon. I’m pretty sure we didn’t break our shit this often when we were junior Hunters.”

The kettle whistled. Magnus took it off the stove to fill the tea pot with hot water. “What did you do back then?” He chuckled to himself. “I don’t know if I can imagine you and Alec running around killing demons when you were children.”

“That’s basically what we did though. Training, going on missions. Nothing big, obviously. We were all around 12, maybe 13 years old when we got our first runes, at that age you bust up a few lesser demons, maybe investigate some minor cases, and you’re done for the night.” Izzy grinned. “We used to come home after missions at like 3 a.m. and just fall into bed. Of course that meant the mission report usually got handed in late, but sometimes if it was really important and Jace and I begged him to do it, Alec would stay up and finish it. God, we were horrible.”

Although she seemed to remember all of this fondly, Magnus couldn’t help but feel a sort of protective instinct for the younger versions of Izzy, Alec, and Jace. Shadowhunters had truly strange notions of what was an appropriate task for a group of literal children. He rarely saw the youngest of the Shadowhunters at the Institute or out on a mission. But when he did spot some he wanted to take them all aside, give them some chocolate, a glass of milk and a sandwich, and send them all home to bed. They were just so young. Hell, Magnus wondered sometimes if Alec running an entire Institute at 23 was taking on a heavier duty than what he could, what he should have to endure. Dying young was no excuse to raise children as soldiers first, people second.

It was probably best not to think about that too much right now, though. That would just make him angry. And sad.

“You probably were. Then again, in my experience, most teenagers are horrible to a certain degree.”

Izzy nodded in agreement. Over the last year, an ever increasing stream of stories about the youngest Lightwood, Max, had reached Magnus, and judging by the tales of his exploits, the little terror was at least as much of a troublemaker as his older siblings. Which, of course, didn’t stop them from being frustrated and concerned.

“Alec wasn’t though. Horrible, I mean,” Izzy said fondly. ”Sure, he stuck too close to the rules. He’d act like Mom. He seemed to hate fun. But he was always looking out for me and Jace, often taking the heat for the stuff we’d done. And when he couldn’t keep us out of trouble, he would join in.”

“What sort of trouble?” Magnus was genuinely curious. Alec didn’t actively avoid the subject of his teenage years, it just didn’t come up often. Especially not the no doubt adorable stupidities he and his siblings had committed.

Isabelle thought for a moment, pursing her lips. “I remember we snuck out of the Institute once to go to some party, and it was summer. We were on our way back, it was really late, it was getting light. Alec wanted to hurry back home, because people would start waking up soon, and they’d notice we were gone. But Jace decided it would be fun to go swimming.” She grinned. “He might have been drunk at the time. Anyway, so we’re walking through Central Park, and Alec keeps trying to tell him it’s a bad idea, and Jace just takes off running and jumps over the fence into the Reservoir.”

Both of them burst into sudden laughter. Magnus thought that he had never heard something so distinctly Jace.

“Of course he got scratched up terribly by the bushes and trees on his way down the bank,” Izzy said when she had calmed down a bit, her shoulders still shaking with suppressed laughter, “and the water by the shore is way too shallow for swimming, so he just wades in, trying to get out into the deeper parts, and he is just covered in leaves and twigs and mud. He looked like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

“And what did you do?”

“I joined him, of course. I just had the sense to take off my clothes first. And I didn’t just vault over the fence, I chose a spot where the bank was clear and the water deeper. So I swim out a little ways, and Alec is still standing on the pathway. I couldn’t really hear what he was saying, I was too far away, but he was probably trying to get us to come out.”

Magnus had no trouble imagining Alec as a lanky teen, exhausted after an illicit night out and exasperated with his siblings’ antics.

“Did you do as he said?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Izzy grinned. “Like I said, we were horrible. We just swam out further.”

“And Alec?”

Isabelle was silent for a moment, letting the suspense build.

“He jumped in after us.”

Magnus let out a laugh. “No!”

“Yes!” Izzy, too, was laughing again. “He undressed, and just jumped in. I guess he gave up, or maybe he decided he’d have an easier time getting us to come out from the water, or maybe he was fresh out of fucks to give about getting back home on time or reigning us in. So there we are, me and Alec in our underwear, and Jace still dressed, boots and all, swimming in the Central Park Reservoir at dawn. It was amazing.” Her laughter trailed off, the last tremors of it still clinging to her lips. “We were in so much trouble when we arrived at the Institute early in the morning, with Jace dripping wet.”

“You got grounded?”

“Yeah, and we were on cleaning duty for the next month. But it was worth it.”

Chuckling, Magnus transferred the pot onto the tea tray, and they made their way back into the living room. The rain dampened the noise of the traffic outside. Although it was still before noon, the thick blanket of clouds meant the daylight was weak and gloomy, and with a flick of his hand Magnus turned on several lamps strewn around the loft.

Isabelle had grown quiet, her arms wrapped around her torso as she sat down. As Magnus leaned forward to fill their cups, he heard her deep intake of breath, felt the nervous bounce of her leg on the sofa.

“Do you ever-- I mean, have you-- do you think there’s a difference, between dating men and dating women? Have you ever noticed something like that?”

Izzy had spoken very quickly, almost as if she was ashamed of the question. Now, however, she was looking resolutely ahead at Magnus, her insecurity betrayed only by her teeth digging into her lower lip.

Magnus considered the question for a moment.

“When one has lived as long as I have, these differences even out more and more. Every relationship is different, because every person is unique. In my experience, at least, a partner’s gender doesn’t matter much. What matters is whether or not there is a connection.”

“Like with Alec?”

Magnus nodded, a tiny smile sneaking onto his lips.

Izzy didn’t look entirely satisfied with this answer.

“I might not be the best person to ask, though,” Magnus admitted. “After all, my love life isn’t exactly what you’d call a universal experience.”

In response, Izzy uncrossed her arms. She inhaled deeply again, almost steeling herself to talk.

“It’s just-- I don’t know. For me, being with guys feels… different? Not bad, definitely, just a different sort of connection.”

“I would say there’s nothing wrong with having a preference, or feeling a difference. Being bisexual is not the same for everyone all the time.”

Her eyes wandered through the apartment and out of the window. “Yeah, I know. But I’m wondering if a relationship with a girl can work, if I can make it work. I guess I just realized that don’t have much experience being in serious relationships with men, but I have even less experience with women.”

Ah, Magnus thought. There it is. This was what Isabelle had been so anxious about. Of course it was a matter of the heart (it nearly always was in such cases).

Best to go at this gently then. “I’m guessing there is one specific reason you’ve been thinking about this?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, Izzy’s eyes snapped back to Magnus’. She swallowed hard.

“I might have… a crush. On-- on Clary.”

Magnus had to admit, this took him slightly aback. It wasn’t a complete surprise, though. Ever since the group of young Nephilim had first come to him for help Isabelle and Clary had seemed particularly fond of one another, their comradery resembling that of Alec and Jace even though they had only known each other for a few days. Over the following year this initial bond had grown into a deep friendship. Now that he thought about it, the two of them exchanged quite a few lingering looks, casual touches. No, this hadn’t come out of nowhere.

“And you haven’t told her?” he asked in a soft voice.

“No!” Izzy said loudly, and then quieter, “I needed to talk to someone who’d understand, who would know what to do. To you.”

Deep in his chest Magnus felt a warm rush of affection for his friend, mixed with more than a little pride that out of all her family and friends she would turn to him for advice on this, that she would share such an intimate secret with him.

“And anyway, I don’t even know if she feels the same way. What if I tell her and it breaks everything we have?”

She crossed her arms again and tucked both feet up onto the couch, curling up into herself more and more.

“I haven’t exactly had the best track record with relationships either, if you can call them that. Don’t get me wrong, I was never unhappy. But… well, most of them didn’t end well, if they ever really started. I don’t want that. For me or for her. Again, if I ever tell her and she likes me back.”

Isabelle’s voice had grown ever quieter while she talked. Now she was staring down into her lap, thick black hair falling forward over her shoulders and into her face. The music had stopped a while ago, and the rain was coming down harder, roaring in Magnus’ ears almost as loudly as the sudden stillness that had settled over the room. He shuffled down the length of the sofa until the side of his leg rested reassuringly against Izzy’s shins. Leaning back into the couch pillows he cleared his throat.

“You know, I’ve never told him this, but when I met Alec I was not sure he was interested in me,” he said softly. He felt Izzy’s gaze shift up towards him, but he looked down at his hands, playing absentmindedly with one of his many rings. “I know, in hindsight I must have seemed absolutely confident that he would fight for this, for what we have now. And sometimes I was actually convinced he felt the same about me as I did about him. Sometimes that confidence was real. But other times… it felt like I was on a fool’s errand. Like I was chasing this boy who would never admit to himself who he was. Like I couldn’t help him. Like I would run myself ragged trying to do something I was stupid to even try.”

He looked up at Izzy. “Over the years I have had quite a few crushes that went unreciprocated. It always hurts, even when you expect it. But being with Alexander has been worth a hundred times the fear I felt that he would reject me. Don’t run and hide, Isabelle. You’re a warrior. Fight for love.”

Isabelle said nothing, her deep brown eyes scanning his face. Then she sat up, unfolded her legs and put her feet back on the ground, and wrapped her arms around him. She relaxed into him as Magnus hugged her back, and they sat still like this for a moment. When Izzy drew back, Magnus could have sworn her eyes were a little misty.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice mostly steady. “I think… well, I’m not gonna pretend I know what to do now,” she let out a shaky little laugh, “but you definitely helped. So much. Thanks.”

“It was my pleasure. And thank you, for bringing your problems to this ridiculous, sappy old warlock,” Magnus replied with a grin. Izzy laughed again, longer and surer this time.

“Now,” Magnus continued, “tell me: Why Clary? What do you like about her?”

As Isabelle launched into a long list of her favourite things about Clary, starting with “her smile” and ending somewhere around “the way she frowns when she doesn’t like the song that’s playing, but doesn’t want to skip it because she knows you like it”, Magnus settled into the couch and snapped his fingers to turn the stereo back on. The music and the rain ran together into a melodious background hum as Izzy talked and Magnus listened with interest, occasionally offering up remarks. The tea on the coffee table grew cold. The wind blew coolly through the curtains.

When Alec got home that afternoon, Izzy was just on her way out.

“Alec!” She beamed at him, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and drew him into a hug. This burst of affection and happiness was a little surprising; after all, Magnus had said she had sounded anxious on the phone this morning.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at her as she released him. “Everything okay, Iz?”

“Yep, I’m great now. Thanks for letting me borrow your boyfriend, big brother. I’ve hogged him for long enough, so I’d better leave you two lovebirds alone.” She smirked as he rolled his eyes, and after a quick “bye” in the direction of the kitchen she slipped out of the door.

Following the sounds of dishes clattering, Alec walked through into the kitchen, where Magnus was busy putting away a clean teapot and cups. He walked up to the warlock and wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Magnus’ shoulder. Magnus tilted his head sideways so their cheeks touched and let out a contented hum.

“Izzy seems happy,” Alec said after a minute. “What did she want to talk to you about?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. But,” Magnus replied with a smile, “I expect you’ll find out soon enough, if Isabelle takes my excellent advice to heart.”

Alec’s curiosity wasn’t satisfied, but he knew when to stop prying. Instead he remembered his boyfriend’s promise from that morning.

“So. About that walk.”

Magnus gave a little sigh before he turned around to kiss Alec. Pulling back, he took Alec’s hand and walked towards the door, stopping only to grab his jacket on the way out.

When the door clicked shut behind them, the loft was quiet once again, filled only with the rustling of the curtains in the breeze coming in through the open balcony doors, the noise wafting up from the busy streets of Brooklyn below, and the ever-present, quietly insistent sound of the warm summer rain, falling.

#shadowhunters fic #clizzy #izzy&magnus #isabelle lightwood #magnus bane #malec #shadowhunters #sh writing #shadowhunters fanfiction #clary x izzy #my writing #fanfuckery #i am so tired of tumblr's bullshit i had to edit these fucking links 20.0000 times and IM DONE

[klynnwordsadhoc]

(A lovely anon asked for domestic Malec. Sorry this took a bit, I was waffling over what to write. I hope you like it!)

Alec hangs out with Magnus while he finishes up a potion

The sound of the door opening and closing reaches him when Magnus is still elbow deep in the final crucial steps of his potion. “In here, Alexander,” he calls.

Alec appears a moment later, a smile warming his face, “Hey.”

Magnus briefly smiles back, but he can’t really divide his attention that much at the moment, as much as he’d like to go greet him properly. “Hello, love. I know we have a date, bear with me a moment, I’m almost done.”

Alec rolls his shoulders in a little shrug and moves farther into the room, “It’s fine.”

He pauses beside Magnus, who carefully watches the color of his concoction, and pecks a kiss to his cheek before making his way to the desk that occupies the corner of the room. Alec usually waits there, it’s out of the way, but he can remain with Magnus instead of sitting alone in the main room. His presence is always welcome, and Magnus has no problem with Alec watching him work. If it was in any way dangerous or sensitive, he would have warned Alec to wait for him out of the room. Alec hops to sit on the edge of the desk, legs crossed, his chin resting on his hand, watching while Magnus moves about, dropping ingredients in careful sequential order.

“How was your day?” Magnus asks as he works. He can chat and work, and he knows that Alec has been quiet to respect his concentration.

“Mostly paperwork,” Alec replies. He tries to sound put out, but Magnus isn’t buying that for a second. Alec loves running that Institute and he’s not fooling anyone. “So what’s the potion for?”

Magnus hums, dropping in one more ingredient and giving it a little push of magic. “A regular client came to me with a rather intriguing request that’s proving to be something of a challenge.” He purses his lips, “Darling, can you help me with something?”

Alec slips off the desk, “Sure.” He comes to Magnus’ side readily enough, but he looks a little dubious. “I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“You won’t,” Magnus replies easily. “Here.” He puts Alec’s hand on the wooden spoon he’s been using to stir and covers it with his own. “Like this, once clockwise, twice counterclockwise, eight turns.” He guides Alec’s hand through the first two, watches on the third and leaves Alec to handle the remaining five while he measures out the last ingredient.

“Why is it a challenge?” Alec asks, his mouth twisted down in a little pout of concentration as he carefully stirs as directed.

Magnus doesn’t let himself get distracted by how adorable it is. “Well, it’s rather specific in its intended effects, and that leads to a very specific potion needed.”

“What are the effects?” Alec glances at him.

Magnus comes back to his side and carefully sifts his last powder into the potion. “Let’s see, how do I put this delicately. My client is looking for something to enhance performance. Sexual performance.”

“So like…” Alec starts, letting Magnus take the spoon from him.

“An erection, yes,” Magnus replies smoothly. “A five hour one to be exact.”

Alec’s eyes widen comically, “Five hours?” He looks a little scandalized. “Why?”

“You know, I didn’t ask,” Magnus chuckles. The potion turns a deep wine color, exactly as it should. “I tend to ask as few questions as possible when it comes to things like this, and as this particular client is a regular, I can say with confidence he isn’t intending to use it for any nefarious purposes.”

“But five hours?” Alec says again, shaking his head a little. “That’s… a really long time.”

“A fun time,” Magnus counters, amused when Alec huffs a little laugh and shakes his head. “And oddly specific, I know. I did have to adapt a formula I already had developed, so I’m reasonably sure this will work for the duration needed.”

Alec leans his hip against the worktable and watches him as he carefully pours out the finished product into glass vials. “It’s a pretty color,” Alec offers, a little dry note to his voice that makes Magnus chuckle.

“Succubus tears,” Magnus replies. “The fresher they are the deeper the color.” He puts stoppers in the vials and starts heating some wax to seal them. “I just visited my supplier today. Lovely woman, owns a string of successful sex shops for women in Chicago. You know she watches the English Patient for this, says it makes her cry every time. I suppose being bored to tears counts.”

“You know a succubus?” Alec asks, and his tone makes Magnus pause long enough to look at him. The arched look he’s getting makes him grin slyly as sidle into Alec’s space.

“Are you jealous?” Magnus settles his hands on Alec’s hips and pulls him a step closer.

“No,” Alec protests, but a blush crawls up his neck a little and that’s answer enough.

Magnus hums and leans in to nuzzle a kiss to Alec’s lips, “As I said, she’s a lovely woman, but she has nothing on you, darling, believe me.”

Alec huffs and rolls his eyes, but he drapes his arms over Magnus’ shoulders and stays close, leaning into the fleeting brushes of Magnus’ lips.

“You know,” Magnus says conversationally, reaching behind him to lift one of the vials. “I did make more of this than I needed. And since I’m not completely sure it’ll last for the intended time, we could test it out…”

Alec looks intrigued for a second before he schools his expression, “You’re not serious. That’s too long.”

Magnus grins at him, “Just think of all we could get up to in five hours…” He nips lightly at Alec’s lower lip in a way that never fails to make him shiver.

“You are going to kill me, Magnus,” Alec whines a little, but he leans into him with his whole body, shuddering when Magnus turns his attention to his throat and nips at his rune. “Seriously.”

“Good deaths,” Magnus teases between kisses to Alec’s skin, “Little deaths.”

Alec sighs and pulls Magnus into a kiss that is deep and thorough and turns his knees to jelly. He is far too good with his mouth in every sense, and Magnus has no shame in dragging him back when he leans away for a moment to catch his breath. Once they finally part, Magnus holds out the vial with a smirk.

Alec looks at it, and then at him. “I have to be able to function tomorrow,” he warns, but he plucks the vial out of Magnus’ grip and grabs his hand, pulling him toward the bedroom.

Magnus laughs as he follows obediently. “I make no such promise.”

--

Magnus’ client shows up promptly at 11 am to pick up his order. He studies the vial and the dark liquid inside. “You’re sure this will work?”

Magnus nods, “It will. Half the vial is really all you should need for the desired effect,” he replies. “I did take the liberty of field testing it for you.”

That gets him an intrigued glance. “And?”

Magnus thinks for a moment of Alec passed out, tangled in dark blue sheets, sated and exhausted. He smiles slowly, “My lover was very pleased with the results.”

Payment is exchanged and Magnus guides the man out.

“Thanks Magnus,” his client says in parting. “I owe you.”

Magnus smiles, “Come back any time.”

Business done, he heads back into the bedroom. Alec may have claimed he needed to function today, but he’s not doing it just yet. When Magnus slides back beneath the sheets, Alec just sighs sleepily and curls up against his side. Magnus is content to curl up in bed with him until that changes.  

#malec #Magnus x Alec #Magnus Bane #Alec Lightwood #shadowhunters #malec fanfiction #myfic #fic:in canon #prompt #rating:teen