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ladynox · 4 years ago

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Nox’s Fanish Content: Roswell New Mexico

Fanfic

Solo

i thought i was a fool for no one/oh baby, i'm a fool for you (status: complete; malex)

Summary: Alex loved Michael like this, warm and pliant under his touches. Accepting whatever was given to him, no matter how gentle or rough or teasing, until he couldn't take it any longer. Until Michael had to pull back, drop to his knees, and plead: "Alex"

For RNM after Dark

palabras sinceras (status: complete; malex)

Summary: In which Alex gets turned into a cat and Michael frets.

Podfic by the amazing Cath w/ cover art by the superb DrLemurr

A New Year, A New Hope (status: complete; malex)

Summary: New Years Day fic

A New Year, A New Hope (status: complete; malex)

Summary: New Years Day fic

Six (status: hiatus; malex)

Summary: Michael had known it was stupid to go through Albuquerque. Big cities were always full of Infected, which are bad sure, but also people which are the absolute worst. Michael would take a raving horde of zombies hungry for human flesh over living and breathing people any day. But cutting through Albuquerque was the fastest path to Roswell. Michael didn’t want to go around. He’d been separated from his siblings long enough.

Note: This fic was originally going to be much longer but I've fizzled and I can't seem to reignite. I believe what's been posted is self contained and provides a satisfying enough ending as a one-shot. So that's what it's going to be now. A one shot.

Rough Stock (status: complete; miluca)

Summary: Michael just wanted to live in this moment forever, where nothing else mattered but the two of them.

i could make you smile if you stayed a while (status: complete; miluca with background malexa)

Summary: The morning after The Threesome was full of uncertainty. Maria sorts through the emotional aftermath of the night before.

Podfic by the lovely Cath

Broken Sign (status: complete; miluca)

Summary: It's almost like the Wild Pony itself is annoyed with her for breaking up with Guerin.

i set my clocks early cause i know i'm always late (status: complete; Michael & Maria)

Summary: S3E3 coda. Maria confronts Michael on his behavior.

A Tremendous Thing (status: complete, marilex friendship, background malexa)

Summary: Alex gives Maria a gift.

Written for the Maria DeLuca Healing Crystals Celebration

Co-authored with @beautifulcheat

Crossed Wires (status: complete; malex)

Summary: Michael's been kicked off more than one Starfleet posting. So when he was reassigned to the USS Roswell, he decided to keep his head down and behave. This decision is immediately thwarted when he meets her hot Vulcan captain. This might be the first time Michael got kicked off a posting for flirting with a captain.

Podfic by the lovely Cath with absolutely gorgeous cover art by mythras_fire

Art by the amazing Slynella

Contigo me encontré (status: ongoing; malex)

Summary: The Lockhart House was once a home, although it was never a happy one. Steeped in tragedy, it still stands today, in the heart of Old Town Roswell, attracting ghost hunters and those seeking to catch a peak of something from beyond the veil. Contrary to popular myth, it wasn’t currently haunted (except by one paranormally talented docent). It was Michael’s favorite job and the best part of his summer home from UNM. Or at least was until Alex Manes was hired to man the gift shop, complicating an otherwise fun and easy job.

For: RIP Roswell

Shelter (status: complete; malex)

Summary: It was pouring when Michael pulled up to the airstream. The wheels of his truck skidded on the mud, a combination of the speed at which he was traveling and the water that hadn’t fully soaked into the parched earth. It was hard to see through the deluge, but this was his home. He didn’t need to be able to see carry his bundle into the airstream, wrapped up within the folds of his coat. Just a bit of power and the door swung open, allowing Michael access. “I don’t think he followed us,” Michael said to the small, shivering form that was curled up in his jacket, locking the door firmly behind him and peeking out. “Can barely see anything in that rain.”

For: RIP Roswell

The Great New Mexico Fake-Off & Petit Four (status: complete; malexa; background forlex & echo)

Fake-Off Summary: Michael had tons of secrets. Sex secrets, murder secrets, alien secrets… they defined him. Most of them, he hated keeping. There was one secret, however, that he was determined to take to the grave. Or Michael learns to bake. Or cakes are a metaphor for Michael's love.

P4 Summary: While Michael attempts to hide his new baking habit, life in Roswell continues and the people around him have some things to say about all the cakes that are popping up.

Note: Petit Four are a series of short companion/background pieces to The Great New Mexico Fake-Off. They are meant to be read in tandem with Fake-Off.

Art by the fantastic Lychee Jelly (spoilers for chapter 4)

cause you're the one who resonates (status: complete; malexa)

Michael and Alex were so handsome together, so soft and effortlessly intimate. Maria couldn't help but imagine how nice it would be settled between them, warm and safe... It's time to go, Maria thinks. Alex disagrees.

For RNM after Dark

Dealing with Dragons (status: complete; miluca)

Summary: In which a rebel princess meets a recalcitrant dragon.

Note: Part 1 of the Enchanted Forest Chronicles

Dealing with Knights (status: complete; malexa)

Summary: An unhappy knight must save a rebel princess from her dragon husband.

Note: Part 2 of the Enchanted Forest Chronicles

Milestones (status: hiatus; malexa, background echo)

Summary: Maria, Michael and Alex have been in a v poly relationship for years. Peacefully cohabiting together. That peace is upended when Maria realizes she's pregnant.

The Truth Is Right Here (status: complete-ish, see below for details); eventual malexa, background Kyliz, endgame kaliz)

Summary: Maria Deluca and Alex Manes had been partners, both in the X-Files department and in marriage, for years. They each had their own reasons to search for the truth, and it just made sense to do it together. Michael Guerin was just a con trying to keep his head down, serve his time, and not attract the wrong type of attention. He definitely had not bargained on being loaned out to a couple of alien hunters.

[Update 1/8/23: I have marked this fic as complete, even though technically we are simply on hiatus. However we stopped at a very good pause point that could serve as a finale, so if you've been waiting to catch up -- this is an excellent time to do so.]

Edits/shitposts

Malex

Miluca

Manes family

Malexa

Marilex

Maria DeLuca

#pinned post #rnm fic #michael guerin #alex manes #maria deluca #malexa #malex #miluca #putting all rnm stuff in one place #rnmedits #michael x maria

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dr-lemurr · 2 years ago

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I love this fic so much!!!! So thrilled we were paired up!

i also had a ton of fun making this book cover, between the wings and the calligraphy.

inspired by beautiful art by @dr-lemurr (here! and above!) I now have this for you

all of it is linked below. also on ao3 chapter-by-chapter

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2022: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Flight

35k. Rated T, Malec. Angels, religion, wingfic, canon divergence, Clave politics.

All Magnus wanted was to make an ornament to carry one of Alec's feathers around with him. He hadn't intended it to awaken long-dormant powers in Alec's wings--or to bring down the angels, either.

Chapter 1 is below. You can find the other chapters here:

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

~~~~~~

Magnus was good at many things. Destroying demons with a wave of his hand. Inventing never-before-seen potions and spells. Irritating Shadowhunters. Flirting with Shadowhunters—well, one in particular.

Arts and crafts, on the other hand, had never been one of Magnus’s strong suits. And yet here he was, attempting glassblowing in his apartment.

“Shit!” Magnus hurried to blow out the flame licking up his sleeve. The burn mark on his wrist lingered, evidence of his incompetence. In retrospect, he should have known better than to put a thousand-degree kiln in the middle of his apothecary. But knowing better had never stopped Magnus from engaging in all manner of ill-advised activities.

The fact that, more often than not, he managed to find his way out of those predicaments intact didn’t help discourage him from doing it again, either.

“Magnus, what the hell are you doing?”

Ah. One of said ill-advised endeavors was standing in his doorway, squinting at the molten glass dripping from Magnus’s tongs. Magnus magicked some sunglasses on him before he hurt his eyes from the glow.

“I’m experiencing the consequences of my hubris,” Magnus told him, putting the dripping glass back in its stone bowl before it spilled all over the rug and wore a hole through the floor. “I’d suggest you stand back.”

Alec’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Arts and crafts,” Magnus explained. “I am attempting to blow glass.”

Alec was silent for a long moment. “I appreciate that you didn’t try to make an innuendo out of that.”

“Well, I could—”

“Please don’t. Why are you doing this, anyway?” Alec had crept closer, and peered at the bright, molten glass in its bowl. Magnus had to admit it was mesmerizing to look at, blisteringly orange and soupy, like a lava flow.

“I wanted to make something,” Magnus said. He avoided saying what, since he wasn’t one hundred percent sure how Alec would feel about it yet.

“You couldn’t magic it?”

Magnus pouted. “I wanted to make it with my hands.”

This ornament was supposed to be special, was the thing. It wasn’t an idle trinket.

Alec shook his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t poke at you over something so small. Just, uh—” his eyes caught on Magnus’s crispy-looking shirt. “Shit, did you burn yourself?”

“Eh,” Magnus said, “minorly.”

Alec crouched by his side, carefully peeling back his sleeve. Magnus had to admit the burn looked slightly worse than he’d thought.

Alec bit his lip at the sight. “It’s just like you to make arts and crafts dangerous,” he muttered. “Hang on.”

Magnus hanged-on as Alec fetched some burn ointment from the other side of the apothecary and bent again by the arm of his chair, smearing it over his skin with careful hands.

It was very affecting, his gentle touch, the harsh light of the kiln illuminating the cut of his cheekbone, his strong neck, the curve of his shoulder. Magnus had several impure thoughts about it, and considered acting on them before realizing that the only thing stupider than having a kiln in his apothecary in the first place was leaving one ablaze while he went to have sex with his boyfriend.

“Thank you, darling,” he said when Alec finished wrapping a bandage around his arm. He batted his eyelashes at him, not that Alec could see it behind the protective glasses Magnus was wearing. “Will you kiss it better?”

Alec sighed like Magnus was an endless nuisance to him, but his smile betrayed his real feelings. He bent to kiss Magnus’s arm.

“Ah, I’m healed already!” Magnus declared, and tipped up his chin when Alec leaned in to peck him on the lips, too.

“Back to blowing glass, then,” Alec said, standing back to his full height.

“Well, later on I can blow—”

“Okay!” Alec rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I guess I did set that one up.” He turned towards the door. “So long as you aren’t going to burn down the house, I’m gonna head to work.”

“I resent that. I’ll have you know I’ve only burned down my house twice in my long life.”

Alec hummed in thought. “That’s more times than I was hoping for, but fewer than I was expecting.”

“Hey!”

“Kidding, honey.” Alec leaned in to kiss him on the cheek one last time. “I’m sure there’ll only be a minor amount of property damage.”

“Don’t worry,” Magnus assured him, “I moved all the flammable potions ingredients out of the apothecary before I started. And besides, I think I’m getting the hang of the glass.” Said glass hissed and spit with heat, as if to undermine Magnus’s words.

“I’m sure you are,” said Alec. “I look forward to seeing the ‘arts and craft project’ later.”

Magnus beamed at him, but as soon as Alec had slipped out of the room, he couldn’t help his smile slipping. He still wasn’t sure exactly how Alec would feel about this whole idea. Nephilim could be touchy about their wings.

But first Magnus had to figure out if he could even do it.

Magnus had half-expected the Nephilim feather to come in contact with the hot glass and just… explode.

Nephilim wings had�� overly-enthusiastic self-defense instincts, which Magnus had found out the hard way when he gave his half-asleep boyfriend a kiss between the shoulder blades and got smacked in the face by a bunch of feathers for his trouble.

Poor Alec had felt so guilty about it, and brought Magnus breakfast in bed as if Magnus had nearly had his head taken off in battle instead of simply having to pluck a few feathers out of his teeth.

So, Magnus hadn’t been sure how the feather would take to being encased in glass, even if it had already fallen from Alec’s wing. Would it still have… lingering rune energy? Magnus hadn’t been sure.

But now, he gazed at his prize with satisfaction.

The blown glass feather ornament was exquisite—if Magnus did say so. He was rather proud of his handiwork—especially considering he had learned glass blowing in about three hours—but he had to admit that the real star of the piece was the feather itself.

Alec’s usually white feather had taken on a prismatic quality in the glass, catching fragments of light and refracting them in dozens of hues. Once again, Magnus couldn’t help but wonder if it was magical in some way. Alec kept telling him his feathers didn’t have supernatural properties, but there was surely something magical about them in Magnus’s opinion.

Or maybe that was just because they were attached to his boyfriend.

He was still idly admiring the ornament, which he’d hung on a lamp on his desk so he could observe it while he worked, when Alec came home late that night.

“Magnus?” he called. “It’s 3:30am, why are you still awake?”

“Is it so late?” Magnus asked, tipping back in his chair with his hands behind his head as Alec leaned in the apothecary doorway. “Time simply slips by when I’m thinking about you.”

Alec rolled his eyes, but came over and kissed the top of Magnus’s head. “Seriously, what have you been working on?”

“Oh, just a trinket. But first I want to talk about you.” He spun around in his chair to face his boyfriend.

Alec looked, predictably, tired. His gear was scratched and torn in several places, rumpled from its usual carefully ordered layers. Magnus ran his hands over each of the blemishes, looking for cuts that went past the layers of gear.

“Are you alright?” he asked, turning Alec’s hands over to look at his palms, then taking his face and tipping it this way and that. Alec submitted to this dutifully, having learned by now that it was easier to let Magnus run through his whole rigamarole without protest. Magnus found a cut on Alec’s temple, and smoothed his thumb over it to heal it. It did not heal—he’d have to try a potion later—and Magnus pouted. “Wings?”

Alec drew his wings out from whatever magical place they hid in—Magnus had never been able to figure out quite where that was—and stretched them out.

Magnus was stunned to see them, as always. The first time Alec had shown them to him, outside of a battle context, Magnus could barely believe his eyes. The wings were exquisite, strong and solid as the hilt of a seraph blade, yet delicate as spider silk in their plumage. As was typical, Alec didn’t appreciate their beauty, viewing them as utilitarian objects like he did the rest of his body. Magnus had decided he would just have to do all the appreciating for the both of them.

Now, the wings looked battered, feathers bent out of shape here and there, ichor stuck between them. The right looked the worst, with blood crusted along the radius bone. Magnus hoped it wasn’t broken. Alec would be so annoyed if he had to rest it for any amount of time.

Magnus stood so he could see it better. “Let me see that?”

“It’s not broken,” said Alec, lowering the wing so Magnus could see. “It’d hurt a lot more if it was.”

He looked pretty annoyed about it nevertheless. Magnus kissed his shoulder. “Always so pouty and grim when you come back from patrol.”

This drew out a tiny smile from his boyfriend. “Well, how else am I supposed to cope with being away from you for so long?”

“Aw, sweet.” Magnus kissed along the top of his wing, surreptitiously feeling out the severity of the injuries as he did. Thankfully, they seemed superficial. “You want to hear a secret? I actually find the pouty, grim, Shadowhunter thing quite affecting.”

“That’s not a secret. You’ve been really obvious about it.”

“Have I?” Magnus healed his wing. This injury, at least, was responsive to his magic. “I can’t recall. I think I’ll have to lay it on stronger.”

Alec smiled wider. “I guess you’ll have to. And I see you healing that wing, by the way. You’re not sneaky.”

“Oh, but isn’t it nice to be distracted by kisses?”

Alec disentangled them to find his lips again, and kissed him. “Yes.”

“But I have to admit,” Magnus added, wrapping his hands around Alec’s jaw to hold him close, “I feel I’m getting the short end of this bargain. I have to do all the healing and all the distracting?”

“Really? You get to make me do stuff and feel me up with abandon and you’re getting the short end of the bargain?”

“Okay, point,” Magnus admitted, and Alec grinned.

“But if you require additional recompense,” Alec added, “I suppose it can be arranged.”

He leaned in to suck a kiss under Magnus’s jaw, hands falling to his hips and pulling him closer. He smelled like night air and sweat and sharp angelic magic. Magnus sighed into the feeling of him.

But soon enough he had to tap Alec’s chest to push him back. “Hey, lover. Now you’re being distracting. I was trying to look at your wings.”

Alec huffed, but he did shift away. “They’re fine. You know they heal on their own.”

“Yes, unless they’re poisoned.”

“They aren’t poisoned.”

“I will take your word for it,” Magnus said, “this time. Don’t let me down.”

“Never,” Alec promised. “Are you going to show me what you were working on now?”

With some hesitation, Magnus unstrung his ornament from the lamp and handed it to Alec.

Alec turned it over in his hands, feeling along the smooth edge of the glass. “Is that one of my feathers?”

“No,” Magnus joked nervously, “I got it from a seagull.”

Alec gave him a look. “Did you think I would be mad? Is that why you’re being weird about it?”

“I’m not being weird about it,” Magnus huffed. Alec just kept looking at him. “Okay, fine. I didn’t think you’d be mad, I just know the wings can be a bit of a… touchy subject. You all are quite possessive about them.”

Alec sighed. “Magnus, it’s fine. It’s pretty, actually.” He turned it over in his hand again, and the glass caught the light of the lamp, reflecting it in fragments of red, yellow, and green. “I just don’t know if I understand the point. You’re aware there’s nothing really special about these, right? They’re just feathers. You wouldn’t pick up a pigeon feather off the street and immortalize it, would you?”

“That is absolutely blasphemous, Alexander,” Magnus exclaimed. “These are not just feathers. They’re your feathers.”

A smile tugged at Alec’s lips and caught in his eyes. “Alright, if you insist.” He handed the ornament back to Magnus, and leveled him with a half-teasing, half-warning look. “Just don’t go sharing these around with everyone. You’re the only one who gets to have them.”

Magnus held the ornament to his chest and beamed. “I only love it more now.”

Alec kissed him again, lingering this time. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured against Magnus’s lips. “I love you.”

Magnus leaned into his space. “I love you.” Between them, his magic swirled through the ornament, lighting the feather from within with a blue glow.

Magnus poked at Alec’s wing. “You should go shower.”

“You going to follow me?”

“As soon as I get rid of the kiln.”

Alec laughed, leaning into Magnus’s shoulder. “Alright, well, don’t be too long.”

“Never.”

When he’d gone, Magnus observed Alec’s feather once again, running his finger along the smooth glass. It was warm to the touch now, perhaps from Magnus’s magic, or the pressure of their bodies. That Alec didn’t appreciate these continued to astound Magnus. They were so beautiful—and even more beautiful on his wings.

But Magnus had spent a lot of time getting Alec to better appreciate his appearance, and he didn’t mind putting more effort in. It was such an enjoyable endeavor, after all.

He hung his ornament back on the lamp, and went to do just that.

“Thanks so much for coming out, Magnus, especially on short notice. This rift is looking really bad.”

“Of course, my dear.” Magnus patted Izzy on the shoulder. “How could I miss a chance to help out my favorite Shadowhunters?”

“That’s sweet, but you should know that Alec insisted on the Institute paying you.” Izzy paged through the various screens on the Institute’s holographic monitor until it showed a monochrome graphic of Rockefeller Center. “He increased the rate, too. I think he felt bad about having to be in Alicante.”

“Isn’t that a fixed rate?” Magnus asked, and Izzy nodded. Magnus sighed dreamily, laying a hand over his heart. “Defrauding the Clave? That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Izzy grinned. “He really is smitten with you. Alec doesn’t play around with Clave rules for just anyone.”

Magnus was smiling so hard he didn’t manage to find an answer, and then Izzy had already zoomed the screen in on NBC Studios, where a red spiral was swirling dizzily by the front door. “Hm,” Magnus quipped. “I guess demons aren’t SNL fans.”

Izzy chuckled. “It’s a pretty inconvenient place for a rift. Even mundanes have to be noticing something.”

“We’ll have to solve it quickly, then. Can’t risk interrupting the critical filming of the nightly news.”

“Can’t risk being on the nightly news,” Izzy added. “Are you able to put up a glamour to keep people away while we deal with this?”

“Yes, my powers are limitless,” said Magnus. “It would be my pleasure to protect us from being broadcast to millions of people. Even though we would look really hot.”

“We would, wouldn’t we?” Izzy smiled to herself. “But back to the matter at hand, do you think you can handle this rift?”

Magnus scoffed. “Oh, darling. Consider it already handled.”

“Wait, what are you wearing?”

The rift was surprisingly quiet, only a few stray demons flying around the plaza, so Magnus was taking his sweet time in closing it. Overusing his magic, and winding up passed out on the ground, was always embarrassing, and to be avoided whenever possible.

He fingered the pendant hanging against his chest as Izzy observed it. He’d shrunk his ornament down to jewelry size to carry it with him. “Oh, just something I made.”

“That’s one of Alec’s feathers, isn’t it?” Izzy shook her head with a grin, as if to say, you’re just too much. “You know, I’m really glad Alec has you to get him to do these things.”

“To get him to make his feathers into ornaments?”

Izzy knocked her shoulder into his. “To get him to be vulnerable. He lets you just walk around showing everyone how much you love him. And he even let you take the feather in the first place.”

Magnus’s heart squeezed. It was true, wasn’t it? Alec had become so much softer in the years they’d been together. Or, at least, he had let that softness be seen. “Perhaps I’ll make more,” he joked, because it was too hard to articulate all that feeling, “a whole skirt of Nephilim feathers.”

Izzy laughed. “That’ll make some kind of statement.”

The rift pulsed before them, so even though Magnus would have much preferred to keep gossiping about his boyfriend, he was forced to turn back to the matter at hand. He raised his hands over it, pushing out magic to stabilize its fraying edges.

It was a strange rift. Unlike the graphic back at the Institute, which had glowed a typical red, the actual rift beamed with white energy. Blue and yellow sparks, like embers off a bonfire, flickered up off its edges, which crackled with a heat Magnus could feel even standing two dozen feet away. It hummed, too, this rift—like somewhere within it, a great beast was starting to growl.

Magnus kept finding himself tempted to step closer, to peer into the chasm and see what bright, strange place might be down there. He couldn’t tell if this was a real thought, or the power of the rift drawing him in.

Perhaps it was time to close this thing for good, risk of passing out or not.

Magnus swirled his magic around it, caught its power like he was lassoing a wild horse, and tugged until the rope snapped shut.

And the rift howled.

Or, rather, something within the rift howled.

Magnus barely had a second to think, oh, it did not like that, before the chasm burst upwards in a spray of dirt and asphalt. Magnus was thrown off his feet, and when he looked up the rift was three times its previous size and oozing with liquid light.

Magnus was reminded of the dripping glass from his ornament-making endeavor, but didn’t have time to focus on it. A great crack! echoed through the plaza, and the earth split right under where he was still lying.

He tried to move, but couldn’t, frozen in place by a foreign magic that sat heavy on his chest. It felt like he’d breathed in molten glass directly from his kiln—it stuck his lungs together, closed up his throat, dripped from his hands to stick him to the ground. Whatever this was, it was no ordinary rift. Magnus cursed himself for his complacency.

A… beast emerged from the ground. That seemed such a primitive word, but Magnus could think of no other way to describe it. Its corporeal form shifted from bear-like to boar-like to bird-like, around and around and mixing forms like it was trying to settle in Magnus’s brain the only way it knew how.

Like its true form was something he was unable to perceive with normal eyes.

It lumbered toward him, claws dragging on the ground. Magnus tried to scramble away, but his limbs were stuck. He tried to use his magic, but every burst he sent the creature’s way seemed to do nothing. Distantly, he could hear Izzy and the other Shadowhunters yelling, but it seemed they could no more get closer than Magnus could get away.

The beast’s eyes glowed pure white. Magnus… it rumbled from deep in Magnus’s subconscious. If Magnus hadn’t already been petrified by magic, he would have frozen in fear at the very sound of it. It sounded, somehow, antithetical to his very being, like it could unravel him. His bones strained as he pushed against the magic; gravel cut into his palms. But he still couldn’t move.

The beast hovered over him, dwarfing him with its massive, boundless form. Magnus couldn’t breathe. His blood slowed in his veins under the gravitational pull of the creature before him. It reached out one long, hooked claw towards his chest—

White light exploded in Magnus’s face. A horrific screeeeeeeech!! screamed around him, like glaciers skidding past each other, and a dozen tiny barbs cut into his throat. For a moment he thought he was dead, but no, the beast was stumbling back, eyes flaring in anger. Blasphemous, it growled, still in Magnus’s head. Its uncanny gaze locked on his chest.

Magnus looked down to find his precious ornament shattered. Jagged glass pieces littered his shirt, and it was these that he’d felt cut him—one was still stuck in the skin of his neck. Alec’s feather, now returned to full size, was glowing blue and white, so bright that Magnus had to squint to look at it.

The beast was looking at it, too, and Magnus leapt onto a hunch, seizing the broken ornament in his hand and thrusting it forward.

The creature cringed back. Magnus ignored the glass cutting into his palm and staggered to his feet, pushing it back with whatever strange power he now held. He desperately wanted to ask what the creature was, where it had come from, but didn’t dare test his luck. He had no idea how long the feather’s power would hold.

The creature retreated to the rift at Magnus’s pressing. But before it crept back underground, it turned to look at him. Its expression was not one of fear. It was one of warning, and premonition, and hate.

Do not test the heavenly laws, warlock, it warned in Magnus’s mind. Its voice clanged inside Magnus’s skull like the clashing of blades. Magnus wanted to cover his ears, but it would have done no good.

Then the beast vanished, and the rift with it.

“Magnus!”

Four hundred years of life experience meant that usually, Magnus knew what to do. Usually, he was the one others came to for help with their problems. Usually, he was not rendered helpless by magic beyond his reckoning, saved only by luck and well-timed sentimentality.

Magnus hated feeling shaken.

“Magnus!”

Magnus blinked back to awareness to find Alec crouched in front of him, patting him on the knee. The TV droned on behind him. Magnus was, ostensibly, watching the nightly news, where the NBC anchors were reporting on a bizarre sinkhole that had opened in front of their building that day, swallowing three cars and a mailbox. In reality, Magnus was just letting it play in the background while he sunk into the depths of his own mind.

“Oh,” he said now, finding a smile because Alexander’s face was always a beloved sight, “you’re back.”

“I should have been back sooner.” Alec cradled his face in one hand, the other falling to Magnus’s lap where he was clutching Alec’s feather—what remained of it, as it had charred itself nearly to ash as soon as the creature had vanished—in white-knuckled hands. “I’m so sorry for the communications blackout in Idris, I would have come immediately.”

“I know.” Magnus finally managed to let the feather fall to his lap because he’d rather take Alec’s actual hands, which he did. “I suppose Izzy told you what happened?”

“Yeah.” Alec let Magnus squeeze his hands for a moment while he scanned him all over for lingering damage, before disentangling them to pull Magnus into his arms. “I should have been there. I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

“In your defense, it’s not like we expected an unkillable eldritch beast from another dimension to materialize in Midtown.”

Truthfully, Magnus wished that Alec had been there, at least for the aftermath. The aftermath when Magnus had fallen to his knees at the edge of the disappearing rift, hands bloody, breath rattling in his chest. Normally Magnus could handle himself quite well, could pick himself right up after all manner of strange and disturbing occurrences.

But in that moment, faced with near destruction by a force he felt completely powerless against, Magnus had really wanted his boyfriend. He pressed his face into Alec’s shoulder, and it was almost enough.

“How was Alicante?” he asked, desperate for a momentary distraction.

Alec sat back to meet his eyes, rubbing his hands up and down Magnus’s shoulders. “Pretty useless, to be honest. We’ve been at a stalemate over this law for weeks and I still don’t know when it’s going to end. We just keep arguing in circles; I haven’t figured out the angle yet to convince more people to come to our side.”

“How many votes do you need to pass it, again?”

“Two-thirds majority. And right now, we’re at, like, fifty-one/forty-nine.”

Magnus swept a hand over his cheek, giving him a soft smile. “You’ll figure it out. You’re very clever.”

Alec turned to kiss his palm. “I hope so. At least a stalemate means we aren’t going backwards. I just—I really want this. For you.”

“Oh? Just for me?” Magnus teased. “You know, you talk a big game about marriage equality for a man who hasn’t even proposed.”

Alec gave him a look. “I’ve told you before, it has to be right, and it won’t be right until you know you can have exactly what you want.”

Magnus sagged against the back of the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll continue to languish in waiting, then.”

Alec kissed the back of his hand, right on his ring finger, then stood. “While you languish, I’m going to order dinner. I know you haven’t eaten. And then I want to hear about this ‘eldritch beast from another dimension’—in your words, though, not Izzy’s.”

“Your wish is my command, oh Shadowhunter!” Magnus said, swirling some sparkles around Alec as he headed for the kitchen. When he was gone, Magnus summoned his notebook and several ancient, threadbare tomes to the coffee table. He’d be damned if he didn’t figure out what had attacked him, and why Alec’s feather had been able to repel it.

In his journal, he scribbled down what he remembered.

Portal ~ few demons. Strange. Glowing white light. Seductive. Reacted poorly to being closed.

Beast ~ indefinite physical form. Held things in place via… gravity? Shadowhunters couldn’t get close. Communicates telepathically? Knew my name. ‘Heavenly laws’?

Feather ~ Alec swears his feathers aren’t magical. Perhaps beast is vulnerable to angelic energy? But it repelled the Shadowhunters…

He flipped through his old books, looking for references to either the strange creature, or the effects of Nephilim feathers. He doubted he would find the latter. The Nephilim were very secretive about their magic; any copies of books that discussed it would either be sequestered within the Institutes, or simply burned.

Magnus was still reading through a thick book on lesser-known demons when Alec dropped a bag of Chinese food in front of him. Evidently, Magnus had been buried in his research for so long that Alec had had time to order, wait for the food to be delivered, and go downstairs to get it without Magnus being any the wiser.

Magnus abandoned his research to pull out a container of fried rice and start scarfing it down. Lilith, he was ravenous—fighting eldritch creatures took a lot out of a man.

Alec thumbed at Magnus’s journal, looking up at Magnus for permission. Magnus gestured for him to take a look. Alec read his notes and frowned.

Between bites of rice, Magnus relayed what had occurred, filling in the gaps between his bullet points. Alec seemed troubled all the while, and Magnus could see his clever brain working behind his eyes, trying to piece things together. When Magnus explained how the thing had almost killed him, that expression slipped from Alec’s face, replaced by pain.

“I should have been there,” he murmured to himself.

“It isn’t your fault, darling,” Magnus told him. “And I can handle myself. Well. Usually. But your lovely little feather protected me, anyway.”

That brought Alec back into focus. “Can I see it?”

Magnus pulled the charred, bent feather from his breast pocket and handed it to him. Alec cradled it in his hands with far more reverence than he’d ever shown any of the feathers on his body.

“You should make another ornament,” he said.

“Well, I was planning to. I’m rather peeved this one was broken, even if it did save my life.”

“For protection,” Alec elaborated.

“We don’t know it would work again,” Magnus countered. “We don’t even know why it worked this time.”

“We’ll experiment, then. You’re good at that.”

“You’re very passionate about this,” Magnus observed.

“About protecting you? Yeah.” Alec drew out his wings and pulled a feather from one; Magnus winced. Alec handed it to him. “Here.”

Magnus took it, but said, “Please don’t pluck yourself like a chicken, I have plenty of your feathers that have fallen off naturally.”

Alec gave him a bashful smile. “Sorry. But I guess I’m also invested in learning what sort of magic the feather was able to manifest in the first place. I don’t like the idea of having magical objects on my body that I don’t know about.”

“Only you would consider magical feathers a nuisance instead of a wonder,” Magnus said, both amused and exasperated.

“Maybe I can consider them a wonder once we understand them,” Alec retorted. “For now, they’re a wild card, and that makes them a hindrance in a fight, not an asset.”

“Oh so practical and serious,” Magnus chided, tickling the underside of Alec’s chin with the tip of the feather. He expected Alec to lurch away, but his boyfriend just smiled. “I will try to learn more once I make my new protection charm.”

“Good. Now, do you have any idea what that thing was that attacked you? What realm was it from?”

“Not any of the more common demonic realms, of that I am certain.” Magnus would know, he had been to them all. “Perhaps you can check the Institute’s library for me? Or lend me the books, whichever the almighty Clave will allow.”

“You can come to the Institute whenever you want,” said Alec. “If the Clave has a problem, they can learn to deal with it.”

“I do so love when you tell them to shove it,” Magnus sighed. “I’ll come by tomorrow. I’m exhausted right now; as soon as dinner’s over I’m heading to bed.”

Alec came to sit beside him, leaning into his side, their shoulders, hips, and thighs pressed together. He seemed to have sensed Magnus’s need for steadiness in the aftermath of the bizarre attack. But he didn’t make Magnus say it, just silently offered his support. “That sounds like a plan,” he said, and picked up his own food.

Magnus was able to find some peace that night, lying at Alec’s side. But when sleep finally claimed him, the beast’s thrumming voice echoed again through his mind, like a warning of worse times to come.

Magnus…

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