#Magnus Bane is incredible

[caterpillarinacave]

Have I posted this one yet

[lislgtwd]

just to understand: am i the only person on earth who would love for the scene (which was fairly deleted) of jace kissing alec to prove that he was never in love with him to be in the final version of cog??

imagine jace brooding over the disappointment of being rejected by his parabatai for the rest of his life and tell me if that wouldn't be hilarious

[carelessflower]

dont blame me // shadowhunters & good omens

tag list: @dustandducks @magnus-the-maqnificent @onetimetwotimesthreetimess @justasweetreader @khaleesiofalicante @pocketoffeels

[tetsunabouquet]

Hereby I am posting a couple of pictures of me, in my legendary hand-sewn coat. It's the very first coat I have made, and I know Magnus Bane would have been proud of me!

*and hereby another of the rest of my outfit, the green shirt is the one I shared before that I made myself and I decorated my pants DIY-style.

I got several compliments for my coat, needless to say. And no, I lost count of how many beads went into decorating my coat. I cannot brag about a certain number but I am certain it's up in the hundreds. Took me days, that is certain as well.

[sluttyten]

magic tricks and magical d*cks

Kinktober Day 3 | Johnny Masterlist | Member Masterlist

tags: warlock!johnny, wand puns, magic, blowjobs, cock worship, fingering, strangers to lovers

length: 5435

Growing up, you’d always believed in magic.

You were raised on Harry Potter, dreaming of getting your Hogwarts letter at eleven, disappointed when it didn’t arrive. As a child, you spent a lot of time making up rhyming phrases with your friends that you pretended were spells, buying crystals, trying to channel the innate magic you knew you must have been born with.

Nothing.

Once you reached high school, you started getting into the occult, into underground communities that truly believed in and practiced magic. Real magic. 

It was all real. 

A whole world mingled with yours, practicing magic and demonology and all sorts of incredible things that you’d almost begun to think couldn’t exist. 

But it does. 

You find your community in Chicago, on the shores of Lake Michigan. 

And it’s there that you learn of Johnny. 

Johnny isn’t necessarily what you expected a warlock to be. You hear warlock and you imagine an uber-powerful grizzly, gnarled older man wearing robes and wielding a staff, chanting in an ancient, forgotten language. 

But Johnny is young and hot, he dresses like a runway model, and when you’re lucky enough to observe him spell-casting he uses English and occasionally Korean. And he’s the top warlock in the Midwest. 

He’s everything you aspire to be as a spellcaster. Johnny has the power and prestige that you’ve felt you’re destined to have. He’s a god among mere mortals. 

So you’re kind of his fangirl. Among the magic-scene of Chicago, Johnny is sort of like the hottest bachelor, a party boy who hosts the best parties because everything is enhanced by magic — the lights, the music, the food, booze, drugs — and he’s like the mayor of the underground. He takes care of the city and surrounding areas, overseeing infrastructure spells, protection spells, making sure that local spellcasters don’t go too wild on the holidays. 

He basically reminds you of Magnus Bane from the Mortal Instruments series (who you’d definitely had a crush on while reading the books and when you’d watched the film). 

Shortly after you ingratiate yourself into the magical community in Chicago, you befriend a man named Kun. Kun began his interest in magic with sleight of hand and card magic, but he’d slowly slid into true magic, learning from a talented wizard in China before Kun heard about Johnny. He immigrated to America just to move to Chicago and learn from the best. 

Though, when you meet him, Kun hasn’t yet succeeded in attaining the apprenticeship with Johnny just yet. 

“But I’m learning a lot of new spells,” he tells you. “It’s interesting how spells differ around the world, in different languages. How different people access their magic.”

Kun, for example, uses a stereotypical magician wand – the ebony stick with ivory tips. When you came to Chicago and found the community, a kindly old witch helped you create your wand – a short oak wand with a rose quartz set in the tip. But you’ve known witches that exclusively use crystals to access their powers, warlocks who wield staffs, some access their magic through amulets, and there’s even been a warlock you met that simply used his iPhone to cast his spells. 

But, typically, almost all of the spellcasters you’ve met have used wands of some sort, and you love it when everyone comes together, as it gives you the chance to see the diversity of magic, like Kun was saying.

It’s Kun that first introduces you to the celebrity of Johnny on your first New Years Eve in the city, dragging you along to the warlock’s citywide blessing celebration. It's there that you first lay eyes on Johnny’s beauty, and you first witness him perform magic. 

You’re far back in the crowd, but you can hear Johnny's voice booming over the crowd as midnight nears, he promises a safe and prosperous year, and as the seconds tick down, Johnny begins casting. You can’t see him at all, but you see the resulting network of protection thrown up in the sky, stretching towards the outer limits, resembling fireworks as midnight strikes. 

It’s the most incredible magic you’ve ever seen, and suddenly you understand Kun’s obsession with the warlock. 

As you leave the site, Kun nearly crushes your hand when he realizes that you’re walking right by where Johnny stands. He’s just standing there with a sparkling glass of champagne in hand, laughing with a group of people. His hair is long, down to his chin, dyed a warm shade of brown, a bit windblown. 

You pause, watching him for a moment, and you swear his gaze slips away from one of the other men he’s talking to, and for a second his eyes meet yours. 

A warm spark embeds itself in your chest. 

And then he’s looking away again, and Kun’s pulling you down the park path towards the train station. But you’re hooked on Johnny by that point. 

“It’s my goal to get invited to one of his parties,” Kun tells you once you’re on the train home. “I know a guy who’s apprenticed to Johnny, and he keeps promising me that he’s going to get me an invite to a party, or at least put in a good word the next time an apprenticeship spot opens.”

You go on with your normal life, hearing about Johnny through the gossip network of magic users you encounter in the city. 

In those first few months of the year, you’re so busy with work (at your devastatingly non-magical job) that you don’t get much practice in with your spell work except for simple ones like housework, warming spells, and some productivity spells to help you finish your work a little faster. When March rolls around, thawing the city a little from deep winter, replacing all of the snow and ice with lots of rain (mixed with some days of snow and ice), you finally catch a little break. 

“We thought you’d left the city,” a witch friend says when you finally show up at a weekly Witching and Wining night at a witch-run bar. “No one’s seen you in months! Whatever you want, babe, tonight it’s on me. I’ve missed you, and I’ve been dying to tell you about this client I had!” 

She buys your first drink of the night, sits there babbling at you about a client who hired her for some cosmetic architectural spellwork. A few other witches and warlocks join in with stories of their horrible clients, and soon you’re feeling a little more grateful that your magic isn’t yet up to the par of being able to take on a magical occupation. 

One warlock, who works as a meteorologist for a news channel in the city, complains loudly about how he swears there’s someone magically sabotaging the weather. “Things have just been wild in terms of weather. Blizzard after blizzard. The ice drifts on the lake? They’re damn near giant icebergs out there. The weather changes on a dime, huge winter storms springing up out of nothing. It’s worse than usual this winter. I’ve put in a request to His Royal Highness Johnny’s people to look into it, but all I keep getting is his apprentices. I’ve heard rumors that his powers are actually waning, and he knows his New Year protection spell didn’t take as it should’ve, so he’s in hiding.”

“You’re ridiculous!” Your friend says, swatting the warlock’s arm. “The weather here always sucks. It doesn’t mean anyone’s cursed is. And maybe Johnny is busy. I’ve heard rumors that the city police have recruited him to track down a serial killer.”

You know Kun would be sitting here denying every accusation against his idol, but he’s gone right now, flown home to China for a few weeks. You’re watching his apartment, which couldn’t have happened at a better time since it was just when your lease on your place expired. 

When the end of Witching and Wining night comes, you bid your friends a goodnight, bundle yourself into your coat, and you step out into the night. 

This part of the city has a high magical population, which is exactly why Kun moved here, and you’re grateful for that right now as you’ve only got a fifteen minute walk back to his place instead of a ten minute walk to the train station, the lengthy train ride, and then a thirteen minute walk from there to your old place. And tonight the air is bitterly cold, thick clouds fill the sky, the ugly gray that tells you they hold either rain or snow, and given how cold it is, you can sense another blizzard coming on. 

You rub your hands together, trying to keep the blood flowing to your fingertips before you remember that you’re a witch now. You dig your wand out of your coat pocket, and with the quartz tip, you draw a symbol in each of your palms. You slip your wand back into your pocket, feeling the symbols tingling on your hands, and you bring your cupped palms up to your lips as you whisper the words of the warming spell that matches the symbols. A small flame appears, shielded in your hands from the breeze. You hunch your shoulders against the wind, wishing you’d worn a hat and scarf tonight, but when you’d left earlier in the evening, it had been a mild 50°F, which is a rather decent temperature. 

As you walk, snow begins to fall and the wind grows stronger and stronger until you step around a corner, and the wind buffets you backwards. Your shoulder crashes into the wall of the building, and you drop your warm little flame, helpless as it extinguishes itself on the ground. 

You curse, wrapping your arms around yourself against the cold wind. Flurries hit your cheeks, and you’re already running through a list of warming, defrosting, and drying spells for once you reach Kun’s apartment. The snow is melting into your shoes and down the collar of your coat. 

You brace the corner again, bowing your head and shouldering into the wind, walking straight into it down the street. Just two more blocks before you’re there, but you feel like every step you take, the wind pushes you back two more. And it’s so cold, your nose and eyes are both watering, your teeth chatter, but you can’t think of a warming spell strong enough to work in this situation. 

You’ve made it halfway along the block when you’re suddenly enveloped in a pocket of warmth, blessedly wind free. 

Of course, without the resistance of the wind there, you suddenly fall forward onto the snowy sidewalk. 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think about that happening, I was just trying to make your walk a little easier,” a masculine voice says above you. 

Hands grip the back of your jacket, and suddenly you’re being lifted up, placed once more on your own two feet. 

And you’re facing him. Johnny. The great warlock of Chicago. 

He smiles. “This storm really came out of nowhere, huh?” He brushes a hand down your back, knocking off snow. “My apprentices told me that the meteorologists can’t make sense of it, and I’ve been away in Seoul on some warlock business, but, shit. I thought I’d take a look around, see what they were talking about. And this doesn’t look good.”

You’re just staring at him, perhaps a bit dumbly, but you can’t help it. He’s even more handsome at this distance — close enough that you can see each eyelash, the stubble on his chin, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple — and he’s talking to you like this is normal, like you know each other and he’s just catching up with you. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes suddenly, taking a half step back. “I’m Johnny Suh, High Warlock of Chicago.” Johnny holds his hand out to you. 

You slide your hand into his, savoring the heat of his palm against yours, the strength as he closes his fingers around your hand, the firmness of his handshake. Even more than that, you feel that embedded spark in your chest flare up when Johnny’s eyes light up and he grins when you tell him your name. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” He releases your hand, and you’re loath to let go, but you reluctantly let your hand fall back to your side. “Although, I feel like we’ve seen each other before.”

“Oh my god,” slips out before you realize it, and as soon as you realize you actually said that aloud, you cover your mouth with your hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Suh. I just… I’ve seen you once before, at the New Years Eve ceremony. We, like, made eye contact, so I didn’t imagine that you would recognize me.”

Johnny’s mouth twists with barely suppressed amusement. “I have a good memory for faces and names. I won’t forget yours now.” 

Bitter wind cuts through the bubble Johnny’s created around you both, and you shiver. Johnny frowns, looking away from you to scan the street. 

“There’s definitely something strange about this weather,” Johnny remarks. “I understand why the weathermen have sought my attention. Someone Is tampering with the typical weather patterns, there’s a signature in this storm. Definitely something magical to be able to cut through my ward.”

“It blew straight through my heating spell,” you confess, trying not to feel small beside Johnny. 

A contemplative look crosses his face. “Where are you headed?” Johnny asks, still looking like he’s thinking deeply about something.

“I’m on my way home.” And you’re not looking forward to stepping back out into the cold. 

As if Johnny can read your mind, his attention snaps to you, and he offers, “I can walk you the rest of the way there.” He offers you his arm, and he says, “I can keep you warm.”

Heat floods you at the double meaning behind his words, but you gratefully accept Johnny’s arm. 

To your delight and fascination, Johnny flirts with you the next two blocks, his presence providing you with protection from the cold, the wind, and the snow. You know he’s got a reputation for being a great party boy, but you wonder if he’s a notorious playboy too, if he’s walking you home with the intention of bedding you tonight. 

Not that you would object to that. 

Johnny walks you up to the door of Kun’s apartment, his hands brushing your back, your arms, and he’s all smiles and charm. And when you reach the door, as you press your key into the lock, Johnny stands right behind you. He’s got one hand on the edge of the doorway, and when you twist around to look at him, he only grins and leans in. 

Feeling bold, you grab the front of his shirt, and you drag him the rest of the way in. 

Johnny pins you between his body and the door, his mouth ravishing yours. You place your hand on the back of his neck, twist your fingers through his long hair.

“Please come inside,” you murmur into the kiss. With your free hand, you fumble for the doorknob. “Just, um, just give me one second to dismantle my roommate’s protective enchantments.”

Johnny distractingly keeps kissing and touching whatever parts of you he can as you stand there, unraveling Kun’s protections on the apartment, until the last of them snaps away, leaving the path clear for you to drag Johnny inside.

You hope he doesn’t mind that this apartment is small and not totally tidy. It’s not a mess by any means, but you’ve been sleeping on the pull out sofa bed. And since you've moved out of your apartment, and this is your temporary place, your boxes are everywhere. You have an open box sitting halfway between the kitchen and the bathroom, piled high with laundry. And the sofa bed is unmade from when you’d flown out of it this morning, running late for work.

Johnny probably doesn’t even look around. As soon as you’ve shut the door behind you both, he starts to reel you in again, starts to pull you away from the door, but you press against his chest.

“Wait, I need to put them back together.” You won’t feel safe unless you’ve got all the enchantments up; it would be like leaving the door unlocked.

“I’ve got it.” Johnny waves his hand. You can see the thin silver and gold threads of magic lacing back together around the perimeter of the apartment, a few extra layers of protection that weren’t there before, all of them brighter and stronger than the ones that Kun had.

You’re still gazing at them in awe when Johnny cups your cheek, when he brushes his lips against yours once more, backing you through the living room. He waves his hand again, and a fire springs to life in the fireplace Kun never uses (probably because this is an old ass apartment building whose ancient chimneys shouldn’t be used anymore). Another flick of his fingers, and among the built-ins that line one wall of the room, the stereo system kicks on, softly playing music.

“Wait,” you murmur even as you’re sinking down onto the unmade sofa bed. “How are you doing all of this? Where’s your wand?”

Is he doing wandless magic? Casting without anything to channel his power?

Johnny grins, standing there above you. “Do you want to see my wand, angel?”

Fuck, does he think you meant that in a sexy way? Well, now that he’s said that, you do want to see his wand, but you also actually want to see his wand. Doesn’t he have one?’

When Johnny tucks his thumb into the waistband of his pants, you decide you can hold off on answers about his wandless magic until a later date. For now, you just want to see whatever he’ll show you.

“Can I see your wand, Johnny?” You perch on the edge of the sofa bed, legs spread enough that Johnny can stand between them. You tilt your head back, looking up at him. “You’re so powerful, I bet your wand has got to be huge.”

He smirks. 

With a snap of his fingers, Johnny’s pants come undone – unbuttoned, unzipped, pulled down just enough that his large cock can spring out. 

Maybe his wand truly is magical because one look at it, and all rationality flies from your head. You become single-minded, all thoughts other than desire are erased, just a single horny braincell bouncing around inside your mind. 

You just want to worship his cock, to kiss and lick and touch and suck. You want to make him cum, to see him shooting from the tip. You wonder if even his cum holds a bit of his power, if tasting it will get you one step closer to being where he is.

He truly is sporting a huge dick. He’s long at probably seven inches, wide enough around that you know it won’t take much to get your jaw aching, and you might as well use both hands on him. And if you get the chance to take his cock inside you, you know it’s going to be such a stretch, that he’s going to hit so deep inside you, you’ll be feeling it for a week. But despite that – or maybe because of that – you want him even more.

“Go on, angel,” Johnny says, placing his hand on your head and nudging you forward. “You can touch.”

“I’ve never seen a wand like this,” you tease, lifting one hand to touch. You brush your fingertips along the underside of his cock. “I’m not so sure I know what to do with it, how to handle it.” You cast a look up at his face.

Johnny’s hungry gaze rests on your lips. “Should I show you, teach you?”

You nod. “Well, you’re the all-powerful High Warlock of the city, who better to show me how to handle a wand than you, sir?”

Johnny groans, “You’re gonna give me the biggest head, stroking my ego like that, angel.”

“Is your ego all that I’m supposed to stroke?” You again glide your fingers along his cock, from base to tip, swirling your finger around his tip once before you pull your hand back down to your lap. “Can you show me how to handle your wand, please?”

Johnny doesn’t say another word, just spits into his hand before reaching down to curl his hand around his cock. He strokes his hand along his length, and you watch from up close, your mouth watering with the need to have him buried down your throat. You won’t be able to take him all the way, not at first anyway, so you’re already planning how you’re going to use your hands on him too, jerking him off into your mouth while you suck at the tip, how it’ll feel to have him gushing over your tongue.

“Johnny,” you whimper involuntarily. 

“Here, angel. You try.” His hand falls away, and you watch as his cock bobs, ready for more. His hands grab for both of yours, pulling your hands up so both of them are on his cock. “Come on, just like I was just doing. This wand works best if you use both hands.”

You swear Johnny shudders when you lean in and lick at the salty bead of precum at his slit, and then he definitely shivers when you curl one hand at the base of his cock, using the other to stroke up from there, and you suck the head of his cock into your mouth, tongue flicking at the slit. His hand slides to the back of your head, and when he applies gentle pressure, sinking your mouth around him, you just take it, still stroking at what you haven’t yet taken in your mouth.

“Good girl,” Johnny praises you. “A quick learner for sure.”

You pull back against his hand on the back of your head, just enough to be able to breathe, and then you’re back on him, sucking at the tip, tongue stroking just beneath the tip, your hands covering the rest. Salty blurts of precum stain the back of your tongue, but you love the taste, love the thrill of power you feel as Johnny moans and rakes his fingers through your hair. You chance a look up at him through your eyelashes, and Johnny has his head bowed to watch you, his hair hanging loose in front of his face. 

Again, you pull off, bringing your left hand up to the tip while your right keeps stroking the shaft.

“Your cock is so big, Johnny. God, is there any part of you that’s not perfect?” You dip in to lick at the slit between your fingers. “I really want to work some magic with you, using your wand to make us both achieve something absolutely, truly spectacular.” 

You shift against the bed, seeking friction for yourself because your pussy is throbbing, so wet that your panties are sticking to you. 

Johnny strokes your hair. “I’m so glad I ran into you out there. Keep going, angel.” And then his fingers are braiding through your hair at the back of your head, pushing your mouth back down around his length, going and going until your lips meet your fingers at the base of his cock, and you’re gagging as Johnny’s tip pushes past your limit. 

His hips rock, thrusting shallowly down your throat, just enough to trigger your gag reflex again.

Your eyes water, but you’re loving every second of this, giving his cock the perfect throat to fuck, you loosen your jaw and let Johnny use your throat, let him bruise your lips as he starts moving faster, and when he pulls you off with his fingers knotted in your hair, you’ve only got a few second to gasp in raw breaths before he’s bringing your lips back to his cock.

“I love it, Johnny. More!” You beg, brushing your lips down the length of him, along the sides. You bring one hand up to stroke your fingers along the opposite side as you run your lips and tongue along his cock. You draw back to the tip, flicking your tongue to gather the beads of precum on your tongue. “So good, Johnny. Your cock is just perfect.” 

You scatter kisses over the sensitive flesh, trace a prominent vein with your tongue, you take just the tip between your lips, flicking your tongue beneath the tip in a way that has Johnny bucking forward just a little but no more even though both hands are buried in your hair. 

You put your all into worshipping his handsome cock, his oh-so magical wand. 

You just want his cum coating your tongue.

“Stop.” Johnny drags you off of him, casting you backwards so your shoulders hit the sofa bed’s thin mattress. He towers above you, cast in tangerine light by the fire flickering in the grate. He looks all-powerful and terrifying and so incredibly sexy right then.

“Do you want me, angel? Really, really want me?” Johnny asks, lowering himself over you, holding himself above you with his fists on either side of your shoulders. 

“I told you already, I want to work some spectacular magic with you and your wand.” You reach for him, for his hair. Johnny’s eyes flash when your nails drag along his scalp. “In case the metaphor isn’t clear enough consent for you, sir, I want you to fuck me.”

That’s exactly what Johnny was waiting for.

He snaps his fingers, and you gasp when you realize that there’s a startling breeze over all your bare skin. Johnny vanished your clothes, and you now lie nude beneath him, who is also now nude, having vanished his own clothes as well.

“Can I show you a magic trick, angel? I think you’ll really like this one.” Johnny kneels up above you, his cock standing out between his legs, heavy and perfect. 

“Show me, please,” you beg, squirming beneath him, needing to be touched.

Johnny grins, and he parts your thighs, reaching with one hand between them. His fingers are warm and just right when he touches you, stroking over your clit to draw a whimper from you, then down to your pussy. 

“Fuck, Johnny. Magical fingers as well as your cock.” Your hand flies to his wrist, feeling the flexing tendons as he fucks two fingers inside you. 

“Oh, this isn’t the trick, my dear.” Johnny grinds his palm against your clit, fingers as deep as he can get them, stroking over that sweet spot inside you. It’s amazing how he keeps such an even pace considering that he’s wrapped his other hand around his cock, jerking himself off while he touches you. You know you’ve got to be leaking around his fingers, so wet for him as you watch his hand on his cock. 

He keeps going, fingering you while he touches himself, and you can feel the swirling tension in your belly, the tight curl of pleasure growing and growing until finally it bursts, sparking through your body as you climax around his fingers. Johnny doesn’t stop.

“That’s right, angel. Cum for me.” His fingers curl inside you, and stars spin above you as you try to focus on Johnny’s face. “Show me that you can handle this before I give you the real magic.”

You arch off the bed, reaching the ultimate peak of your climax. Your chest heaves with each breath, and Johnny pulls his hand away from between your thighs, bringing it down to his cock. 

“Ready for the big event, angel?” Johnny asks. “The main magic trick of the evening?”

You nod, biting at your bottom lip while you watch him. 

“See this?” He asks, signaling to you that he means his cock. “I’m going to make it disappear, and you’re going to help me with that.”

If you weren’t so turned on, that line might have made you laugh, but as it is, you’re incredibly turned on despite that orgasm just moments ago, you’re desperate to have him inside you.

“Show me, Johnny.” You need it.

Johnny presses into you slowly, as if he’s aware that he’s huge and you’re very sensitive after that orgasm. Or, maybe he’s just really wanting to watch the way that his cock disappears as he sinks into you, your pussy greedily swallowing him.

You cry out when Johnny’s patience breaks, and he thrusts in the last bit. He’s so fucking deep, and it feels so damn good. You never could’ve imagined how this would feel, not with him; it’s truly magical. Every inch of you is tingling like he’s spelled you to be extra sensitive to his touch – his cock inside you, the knock of his legs against yours, his chest brushing your tits, the soft way his lips trace your jaw and lips, his hair tickling your cheeks – and it’s driving you insane.

You move with Johnny, twisted together, bodies connecting again and again, his cock driving into you while you moan his name and spout praises about his cock. You’re not even sure what all you’re saying, only that it’s working on Johnny, pushing him to thrust harder, causing him to laugh at one point when he drops his mouth to a sensitive spot high on your throat beneath your ear.

Johnny brings you to orgasm again on his cock, and you’re elevated above Cloud Nine, soaring high on an endless wave of pleasure while Johnny keeps rolling his hips forward, pressing into you again and again.

“Come on Johnny, you too. Cum for me,” you beg, dragging your nails over his shoulders and down his chest. 

“Shit!” He hisses when your nails pass over his nipples, his cock throbbing inside you. “Almost there.”

So, you flick your fingernails over his nipples again, curious if that’ll do the trick.

Johnny pulls out, jolting up towards your face. His hand is in your hair, but you’re already moving too, lifting your head and opening your mouth to take in his cock once more.

Your left hand flies to Johnny’s shaft, your lips wrap around the head, and immediately he cums. 

His semen floods across your tongue, and you swear you taste power in it as you swallow down everything he gives you. You bob your head, sucking at the tip, stroking his shaft with your hand, taking everything Johnny has to offer. 

When he’s gone soft on your tongue, you pull off with a pop, sinking back down onto the sofa bed. Johnny slumps down beside you, draping an arm and a leg over you, and he’s still got one hand tangled in your hair.

“That was amazing,” Johnny sighs. “I haven’t had sex like that in a long time. Mind-blowing.” 

A rush of satisfaction at the praise settles in your bones. “And to think, I was just genuinely asking you about your actual wand. But I suppose you do wandless magic?”

Johnny’s eyes are closed, but he smiles. “Yeah. I do have a wand, though, somewhere in my apartment, but my magic outgrew the wand like a decade ago. If you really want to see it, I can show you sometime.”

You twist around to lie on your side facing him. “Do you mean it?”

Johnny hums in confirmation. “Sure. When I’m back to feeling like I’m on this plane of existence, I’ll give you my number. You’ll have to come over sometime so I can fuck you in a real bed. What even is this?”

You push at his shoulder. “I should’ve known the High Warlock would be snobby about where he has sex. This is a sofa bed, Mr. Suh. I’m just staying here in my friend’s apartment temporarily while I’m between places and while he’s out of town.”

Johnny purses his lips and peeks at you. “Like I said, I’ll give you my number, and you can come sleep in a real bed with me, or else the closest you'll get to having me in this bed again will be phone sex while you’re lying in this.”

But despite all his talk of hating your sofa bed, Johnny the High Warlock of Chicago doesn’t budge from your bed that night or until late the following morning, by which point the city is shut down by the record-breaking snowfall from the late-March blizzard that blew through in the night, and oh-so-unfortunately you and Johnny are trapped together in the apartment with nothing to occupy your time but magic tricks and his magical dick. 

a/n: day 3 is done although it took me longer than I thought it would, and I feel like I kinda left part of it unfinished, but who knows maybe a sequel will be in the works later!

Reblogs are deserving of my eternal gratitude, likes are greatly appreciated, and your thoughts and comments are always welcome !

[thelostgirl21]

Okay, so I've just noticed something, and now I've got a ask...

Could it be possible for Magnus Bane - as a Warlock whose father used to be a Fallen Angel - to be able to use a stele to draw runes on Alec's body?

Because yeah, beyond the fact that Alec hasn't been seen with a flexibility rune drawn anywhere on his body before he started dating Magnus...

WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD HE PLACE IT ON AN AREA OF HIS BODY THAT WOULD REQUIRE AN INSANE AMOUNT OF FLEXIBILITY FOR HIM TO BE ABLE TO REACH IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!?!

Unless you happen to be a contortionist, and/or have extremely hyper-mobile shoulder joints, please do me a favor and try attempting to draw or trace anything there using either your right of your left hand. See what I mean?

Once you've got that flexibility rune activated, perhaps it would be relatively comfortable to do so.

But without it?! It's like one the worst possible spots one could think of using to put it!

Jace's flexibility rune has been put somewhere stylishly practical that's easily within reach for him, at the very least.

But Alec's?!

I can only think of two explanations for this:

Magnus is the one that drew the rune there himself.

Someone else - most likely Jace - did it for him.

And I can't tell which one is my favorite!

Because, while part of me can't help but think how incredibly cool it would be for Magnus to be able to draw and activate runes on Alec's body...

I kinda love the idea that, at some point, right before Alec was going to head back to Magnus' loft, Jace just decided to grab his stele, lift Alec's shirt, and start drawing something on his left shoulder blade!

Alec: [Trying to wiggle his shoulder out of Jace's grasp, and bring his shirt back down.] Jace! What the Hell are you doing?

Jace: [Trying to force his parabatai to stand still.] Just relax and stop moving, alright?! Trust me about this, you'll thank me later!

Alec: [Reluctantly does as he's told, trying to ignore the stinging sensation.] I've still got a feeling I'm going to regret this.

Jace: [Laughs, as he finishes drawing the new rune.] Oh no, you won't! You're going to love this tonight, and so will Magnus!

Alec: WHAT?!

Jace: [Smugly pushes Alec's shirt back down, and gives him two small pats on the shoulder.] There. All done! It should have a stronger effect and last longer, too, since I'm the one that drew it!

Alec: [Turns towards his parabatai, eyeing him carefully.] Jace, what rune was that?

Jace: [Shrugs.] Flexibility. Oh! [Starts fumbling with the edge of Alec's shirt again, at the front this time, looking for something.] Where'd you put that stamina one again? I know it's around here somewhere...

Alec: [Glares incredulously at Jace but, to his own surprise and against his better judgment, doesn't attempt to stop him.] Seriously?!

Jace: [Triumphantly] Ah! There it is! [Activates the stamina rune, before letting go of Alec's shirt, stepping back, removing his own, and handing his stele to Alec.] Say, would you mind activating mine, too? I've got a group reading at the Book Club tonight that will probably end up late.

Alec: [Sighs and rolls his eyes, grabbing the stele to start activating the same runes on Jace's body.] You're impossible...

Jace: I think you mean caring, thoughtful, and the best parabatai in the whole Shadow World that's looking out for his big brother!

Alec: Uh-huh... [Still pretends to be annoyed, but there's a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he finishes to trace the stamina rune.] How large is that group reading tonight, by the way? Want me to activate the endurance and agility ones, too, while I'm at it?

Jace: [Beams back at him.] Okay, you win. You're the best parabatai.

I'm also amused at the thought of Jace or Izzy just discreetly walking behind Alec to activate that large "calm anger" rune through his clothes whenever he's having to deal with some idiot from the Clave, and they notice his patience is just about to snap!

Still, that "calm anger" be a rune that someone else drew there, and that's typically activated by another Shadowhunter, is something I can deal with just fine!

But FLEXIBIILTY?!?!?! How?! Why?! How?!

"I have a flexibility rune, but I'm not flexible enough to use it myself!"

Good job, Alec!

[lurafita]

Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn

Magnus uses being High Warlock as an explanation for everything. Jace: "How did you know this would work?" Magnus: "I'm the high warlock of brooklyn."

Izzy: "How come we all came down with that flu, except for you?" Magnus: "I'm the high warlock of brooklyn."

Clary: "I don't think you are supposed to take those pills with alcohol." Magnus: "I'm the high warlock of brooklyn."

Alec, (about their dinner): "That was incredible." Magnus, smirking: "But of course, Darling. I'm the high warlock of brooklyn."

At one point, Alec starts doing it as well.

Magnus, (in bed): "… wow." Alec, (smug): "Well, I'm the head of the institute."

[i-have-not-slept]

this art goes crazy like the LIGHTING??? MAGNUS’ EXPRESSION?? THE DAEMON OMG

in conclusion i am deceased

SHADOWHUNTERS MINI BANG 2023

2nd entry for the challenge with the incredible fic of @solarisrasa that I loved a lot ! I was a pleasure to work on it 🫶🏻

@malecdiscordserver

Link of the fic :

[peppermintquartz]

Silly Game Time: Who are some of your favorite magician characters? And what do you like about them?

They can be of any class or variety of magic-user (wizard, witch, sorcerer, warlock, healer, druid, etc.), of any race or species, so long as using magic is *primarily* their thing in the story. Not just something they do occasionally, but something that is a major element of their role and their identity.

Magnus Bane from Shadowhunters.

First of all, bisexual Southeast Asian representation ayy.

Secondly I love his style of magic casting, all the elegant hand waving. Plus, Harry Shum Jr is a very handsome darling. Although I wish they'd gone further and darker in the story between him and his father (also incredibly handsome)

[khaleesiofalicante]

also??? (sorry also is my favorite word i have too many thoughts that have to be shared) you helping children with their education?? you are magnus bane levels of saint you are amazing!! (reminded me of him with cordelia and others in the crimson hand 🥹🥹)

Thank you so much for your kind words, El.

I think I’ve mentioned this before. I grew up poor. I've missed exams because we couldn’t afford the fees. I was on scholarship for a while, and before university, I had to take a gap year just to save up. It’s incredibly stressful to study when you have to work at the same time, especially as a teenager.

Education is so important, especially in a country like mine, where lack of employment can make you vulnerable, particularly for young girls. It can lead to early marriage, exploitation, or financial dependency on men. I've always wanted to help others study because I loved going to school (nerd alert), and the thought of someone missing out on that experience simply because they can't afford it breaks my heart.

The kids I’m supporting are wonderful. I only wish I could do more. Hopefully, one day I can. :)

[i-have-not-slept]

i am looking respectfully 👀

Happy birthday to me*sings* happy 🎂 to me!

I promised you very nsfw art on my day. So it is, full version on twitter

p.s. best present to artist is a repost 😉

[malec-ao3feed]

The Second Coming

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/KzCbnB1 by quill_and_ink "All I know about him is that he's pretty quiet, he seems smart whenever he's talked in class, he has a very sexy British accent that makes class incredibly distracting whenever he talks, if you know what I mean -" "Wait, what the fuck?" Magnus demands, stopping dead in the middle of the walkway and glaring at him. This is the first time he's hearing about some sexy accent and honestly, he's kind of pissed that it hasn't come up before now. He's not normally a jealous person, but he thinks he has the right to know if his boyfriend is going to be spending a ton of one-on-one time with some hot Brit. One year after Alec and Magnus embarked on their thirty-one day OnlyFans challenge, their relationship is going stronger than ever as Magnus continues his graduate classes and Alec pursues new dreams, but jealousy rears its ugly head when Alec is assigned to work with a specific partner in class. Words: 2595, Chapters: 1/5, Language: English Series: Part 3 of When Ships Collide Fandoms: Shadowhunters (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Kinktober, OnlyFans, Established Relationship, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, Pet Names, Light Dom/sub, Creampie, Wet & Messy, Boys Kissing, Boys In Love read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/KzCbnB1

[charactersmashorpass-2]

"he is, and i cannot stress this enough, the sexiest. look at him. just look at him. not only is he the most interesting character in his canon media, he's also just incredibly hot and very very gender. smash forever."

[defectivevillain]

bend and break

pairing: jace wayland x masc!reader

author’s note: this is primarily jace/reader, but there’s hints of simon/reader, cause... well. i had to, okay???

there’s some canon divergence here... namely, simon doesn’t get turned into a rat, lmao. 

word count: 3.6k [ao3 version here]

“Jace. Is he really a terrible liar?”

“He’s not a liar at all. Not about important things. He’ll tell you horrible truths, but he won’t lie.” Isabelle paused before she added quietly: “That’s why it’s generally better not to ask him anything unless you know you can stand to hear the answer.”

[city of bones, p153.]

“Wake up!”

You jolt awake, quickly getting up and nearly hitting the person who woke you in the face. Your vision clears and you find yourself staring at Isabelle, who looks incredibly irritated. “Seriously? You almost hit me in the face!”

“Sorry,” you say with a slight eye roll. Isabelle was a few inches from your face when she woke you up—it’s not your fault that you nearly collided with her. You take a deep breath and look at the clock in the corner of the room. It’s getting late—and, subsequently, closer to Magnus Bane’s party. You grimace at the thought. You need to go to this party if you want more information on the block that was placed on your mind. You know that, yet... there's a premonition prickling up your skin. What if you don’t like what you find?

“You need party clothes,” Isabelle remarks, breaking you out of your thoughts. She crosses one leg over the other and levels you with a scrutinizing glance. You look down at your worn T-shirt and jeans, feeling self-conscious.

“I was going to wear this,” you admit, despite knowing that you’ll be practically murdered by Isabelle for the thought. Sure enough, the Shadowhunter lets out a laugh.

“You’re hilarious!” Isabelle smirks mischievously. She grabs your arm and hauls you up to a standing position. You’re beginning to feel overwhelmed, especially when Isabelle swings her closet doors open to reveal an unnecessary amount of clothes. “What? I need to be prepared for any occasion.” She reaches out and grabs a few hangers, before throwing them on the bed for you to see. You turn to look at the clothes.

There’s a crisp white dress shirt with a rather low neckline and satin black pants. Somehow, there are chains that fall from the waistband. On the ground near the bed, there’s a pair of black platform boots. “Izzy, this is…” You break off, unable to find the words.

“Amazing, right?” She grins, before you can say something you’ll likely regret. “Meet in the hallway once you’re done changing.” Isabelle winks at you and she’s gone as quick as she came. You don’t even get a chance to object- which, in hindsight, was likely the reason for her quick departure.

“Well then,” you remark to no one in particular. For a moment, you just stare at the assembled outfit. You’ve never quite worn anything like it before. Taking a deep breath, you begin to change. Thankfully, the sizing is perfect. The shirt isn’t indecently tight or obscenely revealing. Even the boots fit well. You’re a bit impressed with Isabelle’s curation of your outfit—although you’d never tell her that. After a few minutes of psyching yourself up in the mirror, you walk out to the hallway. Unsurprisingly, Simon is lingering outside. He seems to be the only one ready. When you enter, he looks up from the ground and his eyes widen.

“What are you wearing?” You blink at Simon and for several seconds, the two of you stare at each other in silence. It takes you a moment to process his statement.

“Clothes, I think,” you respond sardonically. Simon stares at you in disbelief. His eyes are flitting from your eyes to your face and he seems restless, for some reason. It’s not like you’re wearing anything too crazy. Then again, the outfit was Isabelle’s creation. It was bound to be different from your own style.

“What, do I look bad?” Your heart is racing and you look down at your outfit doubtfully. Who are you kidding? You probably look foolish wearing this.

“No, of course not-” Simon stammers. It seems like he’s having a difficult time getting the words out. Before he can continue stumbling through a justification, another figure joins you in the hall. You turn to the side, only to find Jace leaning against the wall. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and ripped jeans. Jace looks over and regards you with interest, as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

“I think you look good,” Jace remarks. His eyes rove up your figure and it takes every ounce of concentration you have to remain unaffected by his heated gaze. “Great, even. But there’s something missing...” Jace procures a dagger from his jacket and hands it to you. You extend your palm and for a second, the Shadowhunter’s fingers brush against yours and a shiver rolls down your spine.

“I don’t know how to use this,” you admit. The weight of the weapon feels unnatural. The metal glimmers when it catches the light, and there’s something illegible engraved on the hilt. It must be a Rune.

“You will,” Jace asserts, with nothing but confidence in his voice. You’re not sure why he has confidence in you, of all people. You drag your thumb along the dagger and eventually settle for putting it in the conveniently located strap on your boot. “It’s in your blood.”

“Just great,” Simon mutters, but his remark seems to pass unnoticed by Jace. You send Simon a helpless glance, which Simon returns with a strangely irritated one. Is he mad at you? You’re not quite sure what you did, if that is the case.  

“Although…” Jace takes a few steps towards you. You watch in mute confusion as he reaches out, his fingers dragging along the skin of your collarbone. The Shadowhunter is impossibly close to you and his breaths hit your neck. Just as you begin to grow nervous, Jace’s hand falls to the button below your collar and he unbuttons it, revealing even more of your collarbone in the process. “There.” Simon lets out an inexplicably strangled sound. Meanwhile, Jace looks pleased with himself as he stares at your outfit. You’re beginning to grow uncomfortable with all the attention. Thankfully, Isabelle and Alec enter the hallway before long and the group’s attention is diverted. You can feel Jace’s gaze burning into the side of your face, but you pretend not to notice.

The journey towards the listed address is a bit perilous. Navigating New York transportation is hard enough on its own, let alone when you’re with a bunch of super beings that don’t venture into the rest of society often. You’re grateful for Simon’s presence, otherwise you’re certain you would’ve gotten lost already.

After the rather entertaining subway ride, the five of you get up to the street and start walking. The streetlamps are warm, but they flicker out every few seconds.  As you walk, you notice a building up ahead with colorful lights reflecting out onto the sidewalk. Alec points it out and turns to Jace. “Think we’re in the right place?”

“Yes,” Jace responds, freezing in place. Since you’re following him, you just barely avoid bumping into him. The group pauses and Jace stares at something off to the side. You have to squint for a few moments, until you eventually see a sleek black motorcycle. Jace must sense your confusion, because he continues to speak. “Vampires.” Unfortunately, that’s the only explanation you’re given. You shrug and look over to Alec, who seems to be feeling more restless with each passing minute.

“Let’s go,” Alec orders, turning his back and continuing to walk towards the apartment in the distance. Isabelle follows after him, leaving Simon, Jace, and you. Jace not-so-subtly pockets the key to the motorcycle and you raise an eyebrow at him when he isn’t looking. You glance at Simon to see if he noticed, but it seems he missed it. Jace returns to his position at your side and he looks to be radiating smugness; you can’t help but roll your eyes. The three of you walk in an awkward line, with you in the middle and Simon and Jace on either side of you. Fortunately, the awkward and tense walk doesn’t last long, as you soon catch up with Isabelle and Alec on the apartment’s front porch. Isabelle doesn’t hesitate to knock on the door with a few swift raps of her fist.

Within a few moments, the door swings open to reveal Magnus Bane. The warlock is wearing a finely-tailored suit and his eyes glimmer, thanks to the glittery eyeliner accentuating them. His eyes flit about your group, before he eventually throws his hands up in the air and walks away. Izzy seems to take that as an invitation, and she walks in. The rest of you follow behind her, significantly more apprehensive. At least, Simon and you are apprehensive. Jace and Alec seem a little out of their element, too, but they don’t look overwhelmed.  

“You alright?” Simon whispers, once the others split up and go off in different directions. You can hardly hear him over the music that vibrates along your skin and shakes the floor. There are interesting characters everywhere—vampires, faeries, and more. You take a deep breath and try to summon some confidence.

“Yeah,” you nod. You’ll be fine. You’re certainly nervous to speak with Magnus Bane, but right now, you’re feeling okay. “You?”

“Yes,” Simon sighs after a moment. His eyes catch on something and his gaze suddenly sharpens. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, Simon is reaching out to you. He fumbles with your collar and buttons what Jace had unbuttoned. He adjusts your collar and folds it down, before taking a step back to admire his work. “You look really nice; I meant to say that earlier.”

“Thanks,” you smile. Simon looks as if there’s more he wants to say, but he shakes his head and evidently abandons the notion. Meanwhile, you watch with thinly-veiled amusement as Magnus Bane flits about the room, talking to every single person in sight. He’s rather popular, you think to yourself. He also seems pretty familiar. For some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve seen him before. Unfortunately, even after a few minutes of looking at him, you can’t make the connection.

Eventually, Jace and Alec join Simon and you. Isabelle then grabs Simon and practically drags him away, leaving you, Alec, and Jace. Magnus Bane makes his way back to you three and Jace explains everything. Well, he actually doesn’t explain anything—instead deigning to vaguely threaten the warlock if he doesn’t comply. Thankfully, Bane seems to be in a forgiving mood, because he just sighs before leading you to a separate room in the house. Normally, you’d be tempted to look at your rather extravagant surroundings. Now, though, you can only focus on your mother. Nothing else matters.

“You signed my mind,” you blurt out once the three of you are settled and away from prying eyes. You’ve never been the best at beating around the bush. Magnus Bane stares at you as if trying to decide what to say. He then gestures with his hand and a glittery blue signature appears above your head. It shines for a brief moment before fading into nothing.

“Ah, yes, a rather embarrassing moment of hubris...” Bane grimaces. His eyes sparkle in the dim lighting of the room. You bite your lip and try to push down the doubt curdling in your chest. “Alas, it was requested of me.”

“By who?” You’re pretty sure that you already know the answer to that question. You’re hoping that your expectations are wrong. You want nothing more than to be proven wrong. Your heart races out of your chest as you wait for an answer.

“Your mother,” the warlock says softly. He stares at you, clearly expecting a reaction. You stare blankly at him in response. For a moment, there’s a thick tension that settles in the air. It’s gone when Magnus squints at you before continuing to speak. “You don’t seem surprised.” He states.

“Unfortunately, I figured my mother was hiding more from me than I knew,” you remark, clenching your fists at your sides. Truthfully, you’re rather angry. But, you don’t want Magnus Bane or any of the others to know that. Your voice is shaky, but the tears you want to shed aren’t falling down your cheeks. You stare at Jace, who looks troubled. You’re sure he expected this turn of events. It’s likely Alec did too, if the unsurprised look on his face is any indication.

Magnus continues to explain the circumstances behind your mother’s work with him. Eventually, it gets to the point where you can’t handle it. Thinking about your mother’s willing betrayal makes you sick to your stomach. Even the prospect of learning about Runes again through the Grey Book doesn’t lift your spirits.

“I need some air,” you announce, before stepping out into the hallway and following it further down. Luckily, there’s a door at the very end of it that leads to a balcony. You step out onto the balcony and close the door behind you. The night air is cold against your skin, but you rest your arms against the railing and soak it in regardless.

“You okay?” It isn't long before Jace sidles up to your side. You wouldn’t have even noticed his presence unless he made himself known—his approach was entirely soundless. You put a hand to your temple and try to collect your thoughts. “You didn’t really react to Bane’s confession.”

“I know,” you whisper against the wind. You’re almost hoping that Jace doesn’t hear it. “Is it bad that I was expecting it? What would be worse–keeping the naive and foolish belief that my mother didn’t hide anything from me, or distrusting her in her last moments?”

The realization of everything crashes down on you and you bury your head in your hands. Your own mother hid an entire life from you. You could’ve been living a completely different life. The worst part? You wouldn’t have even known, if your mother wasn’t brutally taken from your home. The night air suddenly feels far colder.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jace asserts, staring at an unknown point in the distance. There’s nothing but determination on his face. “I’ll help you find her, I promise.” Jace places a hand on your shoulder. His grip is tight but reassuring all at once. Your doubts slowly diminish at that.

After an immeasurable amount of time spent staring at the sky, the two of you return to the party and find the rest of the group. Isabelle and Simon are red-faced, evidently from all the dancing. Alec was brooding in a corner and he proceeds to talk Jace’s ear off the moment he sees him. You bite your lip and turn to Simon, who motions towards the door. You nod and walk to the front door with him. Everyone else seems to get the hint and they all follow you. You're about to escape without incident when a familiar warlock asks you where you’re going.

“I would say we’ve overstayed our welcome, but I get the feeling we weren’t welcome in the first place,” you remark wryly, shoving your hands in your pockets. Magnus’s eyes light up and a grin overtakes his face.

“Correct, darling!” The warlock exclaims, looking quite eager to get rid of you all. “Hm. Tolerable Nephilim are hard to find these days...” Magnus breaks off, his gaze focusing on Alec, “Charming ones, too. Call me?” Alec sputters and stares at the warlock in disbelief. Jace hauls him off and together, all of you walk away from the apartment. Embarrassingly enough, you nearly fall asleep on the subway ride back. Other than that, though, it’s a rather uneventful trip back to the Institute.

Alec is quick to walk away from the group upon entering the Institute. Isabelle makes a beeline for the kitchen and Simon follows her, clearly still a bit entranced by her. Jace and you are left standing in the entryway, and it doesn’t take long for the Shadowhunter to break the silence between you. “Want to go for a ride?” Jace grins, pulling out the keys he stole earlier.

“Sure,” you respond nonchalantly. Jace stares at you with a scrutinizing expression before he jangles the keys in front of your face again. You try to hit them away, but he reacts quickly and you miss. “What? You weren't exactly subtle about stealing that, Jace.” The Shadowhunter looks mildly impressed that you noticed. He then shrugs casually, before motioning for you to follow behind him.

“I know a shortcut,” Jace remarks without explanation, tugging you to follow behind him. He walks up to one of the walls in the Institute and moves his stele in a strange pattern. The bare wall glows and you’re suddenly standing in front of a Portal. Jace smirks and turns back to you. “Make sure you’re visualizing the apartment from earlier. Then…” The Shadowhunter breaks off and leans backwards, falling into the wall and disappearing from sight. You roll your eyes at his dramatics, before taking a cautionary step into the Portal. You make sure to visualize the apartment as Jace said—the tall trees looming over the sidewalk, the brick laden with ivy and moss.

Your vision spins and you’re suddenly thrown forward. You stumble with the change in momentum and almost fall to the ground; thankfully, Jace grabs you and hauls you up. You don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a devious smirk on his face.

“It wouldn’t have killed you to explain that to me a little better,” you say, looking around at your immediate surroundings. Sure enough, you’re standing on the sidewalk right outside the apartment where the party was held. You spot the motorcycle a few feet away and start walking towards it.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Jace quips, falling in step next to you. His eyes light up when the two of you are close enough to the motorcycle, and he makes an exaggerated jangling sound with the key in his hand. For a moment, the Shadowhunter simply stares at the vehicle—as if taking in all of its glory–before stepping over it and sitting down on the seat. He then looks at you expectantly; you sigh and sit behind him. Jace seems eager to drive the motorcycle, as he revs up the engine dramatically. You roll your eyes again—a gesture you tend to repeat whenever in Jace’s presence. “Hold on, if you don’t want to die.”

Well, that’s only mildly concerning. You grip Jace’s waist tightly, ignoring the smug remark that he makes at that. For a moment, the vehicle stalls, before it roars to life and the two of you are speeding off. You’re going so fast that the buildings around you blur together. Jace lets out an excited whoop and goes even faster. You’re practically melding into him at this point, with how tightly you’re holding onto him. You really don’t want to die by way of a motorcycle. It’s a wonderful sensation, but it’s also extremely disorienting.

An immeasurable amount of time later, Jace is pulling the motorcycle over to a seemingly abandoned spot behind the Institute. Finally, the death machine comes to a stop and you’re free to stand up on solid ground. “Well, that was... crazy,” you choke out, feeling significantly ruffled and off-kilter.

“I should steal things more often,” Jace remarks. You shake your head at him disbelievingly. You’re not quite sure how that’s the lesson he learned from all of this. You place a hand on the motorcycle behind you, feeling the need to keep your balance. Adjusting to a normal speed after that high-speed ride is a bit of a challenge, to say the least. Jace stares at you with a heated gaze and his lips fall into a flat line.

“That mundane…” He sighs, looking askance for a moment before his gaze falls to you once more. Jace’s eyebrows furrow as he glares at something just below your eye level. Before you can ask him to elaborate, the Shadowhunter is leaning impossibly closer. “He’s undoing all of my hard work.” Jace reaches out and unbuttons the top button of your shirt again.

“What are you doing?” Your voice sounds strained, betraying your inner panic and confusion. Thankfully, Jace doesn’t point that out. His hand does, however, linger on your neck. Is he checking for your pulse or something?

“Your heart is racing,” Jace then hums, as casually as if he were talking about the weather. You take a deep breath in.

“You’re standing a little close,” you manage to choke out. Jace only smiles eerily at that, taking another step towards you. You’re forced to sit back on the motorcycle at his sudden proximity. The Shadowhunter stares down at you, golden eyes glimmering with complexity.

“You know…” Jace trails off, his eyes alight with that familiar glow. He pulls up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal a rather old-fashioned watch. You wonder if it was a gift or an artifact of his family. That would make the most sense. Jace squints down at it and you follow his gaze, surprised to find that it’s past midnight. “It’s your birthday, now.”

“How did you know?” You frown, surprised that he knew that. You don’t remember telling him. Maybe he did some investigative work? No, that doesn’t quite sound like something he would do. Your thought process continues to spiral, until Jace breaks through the silence.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” He questions. Answering a question with another question… Typical Jace behavior. You inhale slowly.

“I didn’t want it to be a big deal,” you admit. To be fair, it’s only a few minutes past midnight. You haven’t had the opportunity to tell anyone, save for Jace himself. You’re about to say that when you notice the strange expression on Jace’s face. He looks conflicted.

“Hm,” Jace murmurs, clearly not convinced. “Well, happy birthday.” He remarks, his hand cradling your jaw for the briefest of moments. Just as his hand falls, Jace leans forward and kisses you on the cheek. Before you can contemplate what just happened, he’s walking away and slipping out of sight. You’re left standing outside in complete disbelief, next to a stolen motorcycle under the midnight sky.

sry if the ending was a lil abrupt… hehe oopsie.

Izzy definitely has some badass gender neutral clothing and y’all can't tell me otherwise. 🙏🙏

anyway, thx for reading <3

[paracosm-draw]

Oh my god thank you thank you thank you ! I was so excited to read this kind of prompt from you and you never disappoints, in fact it's always way much better than I can imagine ! Also I'm glad you liked the idea, I had in mind that you would have fun with it considering the atmosphere of your previous fics.

Magnus being his magical royal self and Alec being smitten from the start as he should be 😌

"Magnus knows that when he's done with this, his shadowhunter will be not a sword at his throat but one at his side" had me screaming. Look at them being too powerful for the Clave to handle.

Aah you're the best, I'm delighted ❤️

Hi ! I really really love the way you write, especially dark scenes.

Do you think you can write something about a very matrixed by the Clave Alec sent on a hunt to kill the High Warlock of Brooklyn but falling in love instead ? 💕

hahahahahaha oh gosh let me tell you how excited i am about this prompt because i have a backburner thought about this and hahaha yeah i jumped on this prompt like Nightshade on a moth. thank you and i hope you enjoy

lumine

-

Alec dresses with a solemnity that befits his mission, but not his rank.  He is a warrior and a diplomat by trade, a leader forged of his own making, but a darkened blade by the Clave’s demand.  

There was no real choice —there has never been a choice— in whether or not he takes the missions given him.  

What the Clave asks of him, he gives and while he knows all the laws and loopholes of the Accords and can twist them as eloquently as a seelie could twist the truth.  

This had no loopholes.

It is a command from his leaders, and he will follow through. 

As he always does.

Whether he wants to or not. 

Because Alec is a weapon and weapons cannot argue with those who wield them. 

His target's address is not a physical thing, nor even actual knowledge, but the remains of a confiscated and fading tracking spell that Idris sent to him.  

Alec leaves the institute quietly and unquestioned —long before the nightly patrols have begun to put on their gear��� sinking into the growing shadows that he has been born and pledged to hunt within.

The first whisper of wards from his target’s domain brush against him with an almost intelligent spark. Once again, he wonders just what his parents did for the deeds to restore their honor to require this. He wants to know so badly, how upholding the Lightwood name turned to his blade being soaked blood and his soul battered with deaths on orders he’s not allowed to question.

The entire building is warded so thoroughly that it feels almost alive. Alec shouldn’t be able to see the magic without his spiritum rune activated, but somehow, he can.  It’s beautiful and Alec feels the tiniest pang of regret before he pushes it aside and leaps up.  Somehow the magic doesn’t hinder him, even when it sparks against him, and it is the work of an infant nephilim to make it to the top.

Alec uses the roof to take a rare minute of rest.

He breathes in the cold night air as he checks the tracker.

And then he throws himself off the roof, rolling to soften the sound and settles into the shadow of the balcony he lands on, letting the darkness swallow him back up.

His quiver shimmers into existence against his back and Alec strings his bow as he centers himself. 

Alec learned archery to protect from afar, but he was also trained to kill.

There is no room for Alec Lightwood on this mission, for now, he is but an instrument of the Clave.

He is a weapon of his people and nothing less… but also nothing more.

—

Magnus lets his uninvited guest get as far as his roof before he begins to dress himself.  It’s an auspicious occasion after all, and he does pride himself on being a good host. 

His wards spark about him as his guest moves and Magnus has to admit that there is something truly unique about his unexpected visitor.  If not for the strength of Magnus’ wards, he might not have noticed them at all.

As it is, Magnus’ magic has found and clung to his intruder since they first touched Magnus’ wards. Magnus finishes buttoning his cuffs and straightens his vest, and he waits. 

He finds that he’s almost charmed by the interruption.  

It’s been at least six months — or possibly six years — since the last blatant assassination attempt and this one is already much more promising.  The fact that he can literally feel and taste nephilim blood ensures it. 

It’s been a long time since the Clave was willing to risk another attempt on him.

He tilts his glass to the ceiling, admiring the blood red hue of it and turns with a smirk on his face, ready to greet his would-be-assassin.

His drink falls as his grip loosens in shock. Glass shatters and liquor and crystal shards cover his shoes as his mouth clenches in a snarl of surprise.  

The arrow that pierces his chest leaves no burning pain behind, just a tingling ache.  None of his once holy but now twice damned royal blood spills, the only evidence of the wound ever existing is a sizzling hole in his shirt.  

His shadowhunter assassin growls, a low rumble in his throat, but before he can notch another arrow, he’s pulled through the glass of the window he shatters and thrown into Magnus’ wall. 

Magic presses against him. 

Covering every inch of him as Magnus stalks forward.  He gives the tiniest twitch of his fingers and his magic, as if apologetic for its misstep, quickly deposits the arrow into his hand.  

He rolls it between his fingers, studying it.  

Not even during the uprising had a nephilim blade ever truly pierced his skin.  He wonders what reward he should give the wielder for this particular wound. 

What punishment would be most fitting?

His wards, which have been gently chiming since the beginning, ring with a final, ominous toll as Magnus presses glowing, blue fingers to the intruder's chin and lifts up.

Oh.

Well now. This changes everything.

— 

“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing,” Bane murmurs, his fingers a strong pressure on Alec’s jaw as he speaks.  

Even with the limited information on Bane that he has access to, there was nothing that could have prepared Alec for Bane’s response to the attempted assassination. 

Nor was he expecting Bane to be quite so... magical.

“No?” He asks, because of all the things in his life that he’s been called, pretty hasn’t been one of them. 

“You intrude on my domain, ruin one of my favorite outfits and now you lie to me? Truly appalling behavior from one of the Clave’s beloved.”  Bane tells him and his thumb presses higher on Alec’s face in what is probably meant to be a threat but feels much more like a caress.  

The words themselves make him roll his eyes and a scoff escapes him.  He’s not one of the Clave’s beloved and even if he was, his hidden but very real desires mean he never will be.  

Alec opens his mouth to object, to ask what is going on, anything to figure out exactly why Bane hasn’t already killed him, and Bane’s other hand comes up.  Two neatly painted fingers press to Alec’s lips and tap against them in warning.  His words are stifled — not by magic — but by the mere touch of Bane’s smooth calluses against his mouth.  It’s a mindless act, to lick his lips and they both stiffen when his tongue flicks against hot skin and magic.

Energy crackles around and over him and Alec bites into his bottom lip, surprised by how it doesn’t hurt — and by how good it feels.

When it’s done, Bane steps back.  He looks faintly surprised, but mostly pleased, and Alec wonders at just what he’s learned. 

What Alec did that’s betrayed him enough to put that look on his target’s face.

That much glee on Bane’s face can’t mean anything good for Alec, even if Bane looks gorgeous when he smiles.  As it is, he can barely resist the urge to lean forward and chase the fleeting warmth of Bane’s touch.  It is surprisingly soft, for an enemy.  In fact, it’s lot gentler than Alec’s experienced from most of the allies in his life.

“I think we can be a bit more civilized about all of this.” Bane offers and his fingers curl in a flourish and when Alec blinks his eyes open — startled to realize he’d closed them at all — it’s to see two new chairs in the room.  Bane sits in one with an odd smirk and points to the empty one. 

“To start with, what exactly have I done in the last two decades that warrants a kill order from the Clave?  It’s been at least a century since I last earned one of those pesky things.” 

Alec swallows, wrong footed by the question.  He’s never heard of anyone surviving a kill order by the Clave before, much less thriving and flaunting their existence after one was placed.  However, it makes sense, in a strange way, that of all the beings in the world Magnus Bane would be the one to accomplish it. 

He hesitates to move, but Bane’s magic doesn't give him a choice and a moment later he’s comfortably seated.  Well, as comfortably as one can be when magically bound to a leather chair.  

“The Clave—” he starts, because as with most things, this is the fault of the Clave. But he pauses, “the Accords—” because he’s hoping that will somehow be better and finally, he grits his teeth.  His eyes close and to his relief his hand is allowed to come up, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I don’t know why they want you dead. Probably because you’re a threat.”  Alec finally admits.  Perhaps it’s magic, or his situation, but the truth flows easily past his lips.

“The Clave doesn’t like threats.  It’s been years since the Uprising, and they still haven’t fully regained their strength.  New York is one of their strongest Institutes and yet it’s you who holds the power in our local region.”

Bane blinks at him, as if astounded and then laughter rings through the air.  

“A political threat.  They are doing this because of politics? And they sent you, sweet innocent cherub for the reaping. Darling, I’m not simply the High Warlock of Brooklyn.”  And here Bane rises back to his feet, “I’m a king.  In some ways, all the important ways even.  I’m your king.”

— 

Magnus stares at his would-be-murderer and magic coils around him, ready to strike and drag him so close that they can never be parted.  The magic of his soul dislikes his restraint and the dominion magic that lends itself to his service wants to claim and take now. 

All of Magnus’ magic demands that he takes what is rightly owed to him, to bind the counterpart of his soul to himself.

Magnus wants that as well but knows that he needs to err on the side of caution, as much as he doesn’t wish to. 

His own personal magic, however, has other ideas.  Which is clear from the protective blue sparks still coming off of his soulmate’s skin, the hole in Magnus’ shirt and the phantom ache of a wound that doesn’t truly exist. 

Magnus never expected to meet his soulmate like this — never expected them to truly exist.  But his lips curl into a smirk as his magic dances along his boy’s body and he remembers the elegant stance and fearless way he’d tried to kill him.

It’s delightful and new and Magnus knows that when he’s done with this, his shadowhunter will be not a sword at his throat but one at his side. 

The Clave has done what Magnus’s own father hasn’t been able to accomplish for centuries, given him his soulmate.

It’s only fair that Magnus pays them back, tenfold for the gift given.

[alexanderlightweight]

I'll confess, I did read your previous prompt but it had slipped my mind and I was not thinking of it specifically when I wrote mine. I just really like hair lore and long hair and fancy hairdos and can never get enough fics with those. So if you want to extend the previous verse or if you've got a slightly different idea and want to write that instead, I will be entirely happy either way Thanks for picking mine! I'm all excited now ~~ \(^o^)/ ~~

haha you're good. i just was trying to figure out if it was a continuation or not but here we go! new hair lore from a different verse lol

i hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

-

“And what will you need for this ritual?” Alec asks, barely looking up from where he’s bent over a screen. Because if he sees Fray with braids other than training ones, he’s going to throw something — probably her — and he wants to finish this conversation.

There is silence and Alec looks up, frown on his face because he isn’t sure why they’re stalling or why they have yet to introduce whoever they’ve brought with them.

“This is, uh Alec this is Magnus Bane.” Fray says and Alec’s eye twitches, ready to rip out the braids currently in her hair and the small little demon bone charm in it.

“Yes, I know the High Warlock of Brooklyn.” Alec allows, nodding casually to Magnus who is watching him with far more interest than he did when Alec was seven and trying to stalk him out of the Institute.  It’s been years since he’s last seen him and Magnus is only more handsome, more beautiful and Alec reminds himself that business has to come before pleasure.

“It’s a sacrifice.” Magnus allows, “nephilim hair is steeped in their grace and the price to pay for nephilim memories must of course, come from a nephilim.”

“Alright.” Alec says and when Jace gives him a surprised but pleased look he adds, “Fray, you’ll supply as much as needed.  If there is more needed, you can request volunteers though no one is obligated to help you.”

“Alec—”

“Surely you weren’t expecting me to volunteer?” Alec asks casually as he stares Jace down. “If you and Izzy and interested in volunteering then of course I’ll allow it. If mother asks, I’ll make sure she understands it was a sacrifice for a…” his bottom lip curs into a sneer despite himself, “comrade of yours.” 

Magnus Bane is staring at him curiously, eyes incredibly intent and Alec is trying so hard not to let it affect him, even when it makes him want to stand straighter and turn, to show off the charms on his braid.

“Seriously? It’s just hair! These are my memories.” Fray tries to explain and Alec sighs, because his hair is more important to him than a stranger’s memories and he turns to Magnus.

“What are the specifics?”

“I’m not actually sure—” Magnus tells him and he seems completely at ease with the admittance. “Jocelyn Fairchild didn’t care about how they were protected, only that the memories would be nearly impossible to get.”

“My mother—”

“Shut up.” Alec says at the same time Magnus snaps his fingers and Clary goes surprisingly silent and then her face twists in outrage.  Alec snorts and ignores her, giving Jace a look that just dares him to interfere.

“A price will need to be paid to summon the demon, let alone find out what the cost will be.”

Alec sighs and looks at Clary with a frown and draws a small, ritual knife from his sleeve.  “Take off until just above the charm, that should be enough to figure out what the actual price is.” He holds it out, handle first to Clary and she crosses her arms and snorts.

“You cut your hair!” Clary spits out, the spell finally gone, “you’re the leader, aren’t you! So cut your own damn hair, Alec.” She tosses her red tangle of braids, “you’re a guy. You don’t even need long hair.”

Alec blinks and then he moves.  Clary is on the ground a moment later and he pins her there with his foot on her shoulder blades, one hand in the garish mess of braids.

“Do you want your memories back?” He asks calmly and Jace and Izzy are still, their faces pale from the moment Clary demanded he cut his hair.  The moment Clary garbles out a yes, Alec ignores anything else she adds and he cuts. 

There is a tiny chime, like a gong being shattered and Clary shudders as what little has grown of her angelic power is sheared away.  This is meant to be a sacrifice; it always is when a shadowhunter cuts their hair and Alec feels no sympathy.  The tiny demon bone charms disintegrates and he scoffs as he tosses the bundle to Magnus.

“The charm broke, it didn’t consider any of her demon kills to be valid.” Alec says mockingly, because Jace and Izzy insisted that Clary counted as bloodied even though Alec was sure it didn’t.  The charm dissolving without the connection to Clary’s core makes it clear that she’s not as strong or as capable as they keep pretending.

Clary sobs on the ground, looking up at him in horror and Alec shrugs.

He’s given Clary Fray every opportunity to learn and ask questions.

“You don’t get to pick and choose what parts of our culture you like.” Alec tells her and Magnus hums in agreement as he steps up close and the look, he’s given Alec is so hard to turn away from, but he does. “You want to be a part of our world, then you pay the prices like everyone else and you don’t get to ask others to sacrifice parts of themselves for your own vendetta.”

“Get her to the infirmary.” He tells Jace, “she’ll be fine in twenty minutes with a little adrenaline. Tell them to give her one of the weaker IV cocktails for nephilim children, she won’t be able to handle the amount an actual shadowhunter can handle.” He turns to Magnus then and swallows, “would you like to discuss the array and look over the wards in the rooms we have in our ritual rooms?”

“That would be perfect, thank you Alexander.” Magnus murmurs and he steps up next to Alec and smiles, something daring in his gaze. “Lead the way?”