#his claves his shoulders just his EVERYTHING

[nicoscheer]

Put the honey in the honeymoon 🫠

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Frank Gilfeather (@franksnobleart)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Frank Gilfeather (@franksnobleart)

Not the ‘come on you bastard’ around like 0:58 🤣🤣😭

X

[machveil]

some Munch!Kyle in these trying times

CW: Fem!Reader, oral and fingering(fem receiving), Kyle is lost in the pussy sauce, heavy praise (fem receiving), I just missed writing pussy eating fics if I’m being honest - thought I’d spice it up and write my first nsfw Kyle fic. Gaz girlies, I see you, I’m becoming you

he was so sweet, honeyed words as he guided you to bed, soft kisses pressed haphazardly over your cheeks and nose. “I know my sweet girl needs some lovin’, isn’t that right?”, hushed laughter as he hugged you close, falling onto the mattress with you. it was hard to let him go, warm brown eyes looking at you like you hung the moon and stars. always gentle with you when you’re feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders, too overwhelmed by everything, heart weak with an ache that comes and goes. manicured nails lightly tracing down your sides, his charming laugh ringing in your ears when you try to squirm away, “I’ll stop, I’ll stop— sorry, love.”, he chuckles

his laughter dies down as he slips his hands under your shirt, claimed from his wardrobe, smoothing over your tummy. “I’ve got you, just have to feel good for me, yeah?”, his boyish grin making your shoulders relax, “Mhm, I can do that, Kyle.”. pawing at the pudge of your stomach before he’s sitting up, his gaze flicks down to your pants briefly before he’s looking into your eyes again, “Can I?”. his voice is so soft, all you can manage is a nod, words caught in your throat. “Speak up, darling. Can I?”, he asks again, tone a little more teasing, lighthearted. “Please— yes.”, voice small as you answer him. “There we go, did so good f’me, sweetheart.”, hands moving to guide your pants down, careful not to tug

down go your pants, folded nicely before they’re set on his bedside table, shifting to kneel between your legs. despite working a rough, laborious job, his soft hands smooth down your legs, thumbs ghosting over your ankles, “Comfy?”. when you nod this time he doesn’t push for more, palms moving to massage your claves briefly. “So pretty.”, he murmurs under his breath, “I could jus’ eat you up.”. slowly, his warm hands migrate up your thighs, stopping at the hem of your underwear, “Can I?”, he grins, “Just a taste, darling. Please?”. Kyle’s never had to beg for a meal, but for you? he’d plead and paw at you for just a drop of your honeyed slick

ecstatic when you breathe out a small ‘yes’, warmth blooming in his chest every time he hears you say it, he guides the thin fabric down. it doesn’t escape him that they’re damp in the center, his favorite pair, absentmindedly tucked in his back pocket before he settles again. “Absolutely gorgeous, aren’t you?”, a pause, an expectant look as he glances up at you. say it, love, c’mon. “I— I’m gorgeous.”, stuttered out, your cheeks warm under his gaze. a small click of his tongue rings out before his hands settle on the plush of your inner thighs, “One more time for me, what are you?”, he asks, voice a little warmer, oozing with love, as he ghosts a thumb over your clit. he cracks a smile when your thighs jolt slightly, grins a little wider when you answer him, “I’m gorgeous.”

“Good girl.”, he hums, rubbing tight, slow circles over your pearl, “My gorgeous girl and her pretty pussy, all f’me.”. one hand holding your hips down, the other swirling over your clit. he looks down at you, “Can’t believe I get to see you like this.”, a comment moreso for himself as he moves to lay down, head resting between your soft thighs, “Dunno what I did to deserve such a perfect bird.”. soft kisses pressed to your thighs, a smile on his lips as you shakily breathe out, “Don’t get too impatient, love.”, he tuts, playfully nipping you before he pecks your mound. strong forearms slipping under your thighs, a quick bend at the elbows has him tugging you closer to him, hands settling on the fat of your hips, “Just relax, yeah?”

he loves kissing you. warm, slow kisses in the morning when you’ve just woken up. longing, breathtaking kisses before he leaves for a deployment. but Kyle adores the needy, chaste kisses he presses to your clit. small, little loving pecks as he dips further down, mouthing at your cunt to make you mewl and gasp. “Such a pretty bird.”, mumbled against you as he breathes you in, lapping at your folds and savoring you. he wants the world around you to melt away, leave you gooey and sweet for him. and you comply so easily to that unspoken wish, plush thighs caging him - not like he’d leave anyways - eyes closed as he drinks you in, hands pawing at you, kneading your muscles. as much as he wants you to relax, Kyle does this for himself too, to lose himself in the love of his life, to be surrounded by you

consistent swirls of his tongue over your pussy as he holds you close, groaning against you as your hand reaches down to hold one of his. his sweet little thing, needing to hold him. he interlocks his hand with yours, a reassuring squeeze before he’s devouring you again, slick soaked lips moving up to make out with your clit. “C’mon, darling. Gonna let go f’me?”, your soft little moans are his answer, crying out as his free hand joins his mouth, working you open with his pointer, “Gonna come for me?”, smitten gaze looking up at you between your thighs. white hot pleasure consuming you when he works a second finger into you, kitten licks to your clit as he lets you ride your orgasm out. he can’t help the smile tugging on his lips, breathing out as your legs go jelly

“Look at that.”, he mutters under breath, shifting to sit up slightly as your legs come down. Hands massaging your thighs, leaning down to kiss your knee, “Did so good for me, sweetheart.”. he ignores the straining of his pants, slowly getting up to grab a towel and cup of water for you. gentle as he cleans you up, offering a shower, chuckling when you weakly tug at his hand. a little cuddling first won’t hurt, and he doesn’t argue as he gets in beside you, tucking you into his side as he kisses your temple, “Feelin’ better, love?”

[lawsofchaos1]

Malec Promptlet: Time Travel AU

The first time around, the war goes awry and the worst of outcomes comes to pass. Magnus dies and Alec travels back in time, alone, to the high point of Valentine’s rise, when the Downworld and the Clave were in a state of declared war, not just open enmity.

Alec goes to Magnus’ court, not the full war council at Pandemonium, but the quieter one for the more private, often the more tragic, requests. He goes fully unarmed before Magnus and his advisors - Ragnor, the Alpha of the largest pack of the East Coast, and an ancient vampire who oversees the clan structures for nearly the entirety of the continent. The council brings their respective weapons and magic to bear when they clock the presence of a nephilim. They don’t attack however.

They won’t be accused of doing so first when this inevitably comes before the Clave.

Alec shocks them though when he doesn’t bring his own arms up in turn, calmly opening his palms to reveal his lack of weaponry. Alec moves past the supplicant spot, the comfortable couch for the aggrieved to cry on Magnus’ shoulder and request justice, instead going to kneel in the position of a penitent,  one presenting themselves for Magnus’ judgement.

Alec holds Magnus's gaze alone when he speaks. “Look upon me and within me, please. I would have no secrets from you."

Magnus sees his magic, magic he has not released, curling in and around the nephilim, and his own wave of power sinks into Alec’s bones, every action of his body, every beat of his heart and breath through his lungs, controlled by the Consular Warlock.

It should be suffocating, it should be fatal, Alec should be fighting with every fiber of his soul, but instead Alec relaxes into his soul’s longing and lets Magnus be his reason for being.

Magnus sees.

His power claims his nephilim- his beloved, his mate, his everything - without pause and Magnus wants nothing more than to take Alec home and place physical sensation to his memories of Alec's body beneath him.

Crimson and sapphire writhe around Alec's body in protective coils instead, however, and his husband smiles with grim, knowing anticipation.

Magnus' devoted Commander knows war better than anything other than his soul's mate and, this time, they will not fail.

[starrieshq]

Home [Thomastair ft. Jordelia]

here is my long-procrastinated Thomastair fic! It's a bit short, but dw! I have plans to write more fics in the future! (I take requests 😁)

Tag: @edwinspaynes

Thomas woke up to the sound of groaning coming from the other side of the bed.

Alastair rolled closer to him, his head resting next to Thomas’s face, his dark hair tickling his nose.

Thomas chuckled. Seeing him like this, with his guard down and happier than he had ever been before, was always his favorite part of the day.

“Good morning.” He said, rolling over.

Alastair scoffed sleepily. “A morning is never good.”

Thomas wrapped his arms around him and nestled his face into his shoulder. “With you, it is.”

His face reddened. “Damn you, Lightwood.”

They laid like this for some time, Thomas’s arms around Alastair, both drifting in and out of sleep, basking in the comforting warmth of each other. Eventually, though, they both heard crying, and had to get up.

He smiled as he got out of bed and headed to the washroom. As he freshened up, he could hear Zachary Arash from his nursery, having just woken up from his slumber and extremely displeased. Sona was at a Clave meeting in Idris and had left him in Thomas and Alastair’s care.

Alastair was an excellent brother. Due to Elias’s parenting, he had taken it upon himself to ensure that Zachary would never have to experience such trauma. Already, he was learning to walk, and had even said his first word (mama). Sona was delighted, and thus surrendered him to their care. Besides, Cordelia and James would have their own child soon. It’s not like there was anyone else fit for the job.

Matthew was on his travel year, headed to Paris, then London, then Reykjavík. James would be a father soon, and it took everything in Thomas to not think about where Christopher could have been.

He headed to the kitchen, where Alastair was preparing breakfast.

“Hello, Zachary.” He cooed, while Alastair rolled his eyes.

They sat down at the table, Thomas buttering a roll, Alastair sipping coffee, and Zachary fussing quietly.

“I never understood how you can tolerate that.” Thomas motioned towards his cup of coffee. “It’s awful.”

Alastair disagreed. “It’s an acquired taste,” He said. “It’s fine.”

Thomas shook his head as Zachary fussed. Alastair placed him in his lap and began calming the toddler, attempting to soothe him.

“Shall we head to Cordelia’s place after this?” Asked Alastair. “She’s due at any moment, and it’d be great to talk to her and James before they have their daughter.”

Thomas smiled. “Zachary would be delighted to have a new friend.”

After breakfast, they commuted to Curzon Street by carriage, Zachary waving out the window and babbling the entire trip there. Alastair held him with a parentlike yet childish manner, and Thomas felt like his heart would explode every time he looked at him.

“Zachary,” He remarked, hoisting him up, “As much as the citizens love to see you greet them with morning joy, my arms are screaming in pain in a way that is neither loving nor joyous.”

Finally, they rolled to a stop at Curzon Street.

Before they could knock, a very pregnant Cordelia opened the door, her hand helping support her belly.

“Layla,” Alastair said. “You look awfully big.”

She gasped playfully. “Alastair, you know that you’re not supposed to say that to a woman.”

James appeared behind her, an arm wrapping around her waist and resting lightly on her stomach.

“Thomas and Alastair,” He said, “What excellent timing. My parents left not an hour ago.” James peered curiously at them. “What brings you here?”

“Just thought we’d drop by before all of your time is riddled with screaming and crying.” Thomas replied, motioning to Cordelia.

She smiled, then winced as her other hand flew to her belly. “She’s a fighter.”

Cordelia continued to smile, however Thomas noted the slight grimace peeking through. She was extremely pregnant, and as she ushered them into the house, he noticed that her feet were swollen.

“Cordelia,” He said. “Should you be walking?”

James sighed. “I told her that she should be in bed, but she won’t listen to me.”

“Nonsense.” Cordelia said. “I can handle myself. I’m perfectly capable-”

She let out a small gasp and squeezed her eyes shut.

Alastair coughed pointedly. “You were saying?”

James ushered her to the sitting room, where she plopped down in an armchair. James took a seat on the couch next to her, leaving Thomas and Alastair to squeeze onto a loveseat. Zachary, the little traitor, settled in next to his uncle James, causing Alastair to disappointedly sigh. Out of habit, Thomas put his arm around him as Cordelia sighed in relief.

“My feet are killing me.” She complained.

“She’s due any moment now, according to Risa.” James said.

Alastair relaxed in Thomas’s grasp and subconsciously leaned his head on his shoulder. “I can imagine.”

Thomas lightly hit him. Alastair scoffed as he settled in closer to him.

“Rude.”

After their visit, they decided to head back to their flat. Zachary was already asleep, and Thomas and Alastair decided to retire to bed early.

They laid awake in bed, Alastair’s head on Thomas’s chest, rising and falling with every breath. A strand of his dark hair tickled his chin, and Thomas batted it away.

After all these years in the dark, all those days of longing and loneliness, the days of yearning and despair, this was it.

This was home.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi there! for a prompt i was wondering if you would be up for something where Magnus learns that Alec has so many more responsibilities than he thought he did. I just love the idea of Magnus being sure that being High Worlock was so much more challenging than being the HOTI. Thank you!

i played with the prompt a bit and this is some of Magnus helping and witnessing how much responsibility Alec is taking on and being incredibly proud of him and impressed (imo they are equally challenging and complicated jobs but in extensively different ways. on one hand, magnus has a great deal many more people to look out for and a lot of conflicts to be aware of, especially within downworld tensions etc while alec is responsible in a different way for his people, since they expect to live and die by his word and he's also politicing with fossilized clave brains and he hunts nightly).

i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

-

“I adore you—” Magnus murmurs as he presses a kiss to the shell of Alexander’s ear.

“I love you too babe,” his darling says back, utterly sincere even in his distraction, a little pleased smile curling his lips even as his brow furrows as he considers the tablet in his hands. “Now what do you think of simulating ice in the training room with magic? An official commission of course, I’m documenting everything in case other Institutes want to follow my lead with training.” Magnus already knows Alexander is planning — hoping — for that outcome. “I want to get them used to ice before I let them out this winter.”

Magnus makes an inquiring noise and Alexander shrugs with an amused but tired sigh.

“Baby shadowhunters learning to use speed runes and unused to moving at those speeds on ice with this much concrete and mundane vehicles? It’s a mess and I know for my family, it ended up pretty bloody the first dozen times until we got the hang of it.” Alexander shrugs as if it’s nothing big but Magnus can see the tightness of his shoulders, “it felt fun the first few times, but it got old. More quickly for me than Izzy and Jace. They were more frustrated but—” and Magnus wants to reach into Alexander’s chest and scoop out the sorrow binding his heart, “I got tired of seeing my little brother and sister covered in blood or with bones shattering through their skin.”

It makes Magnus sick, to think of Alexander like that. To think of the fact that they were probably out on their own already when that happened.

“I’m happy to do it,” Magnus tells him and his palm turns on Alexander’s thigh, offering up his fingers with a wiggle that catches his boy’s attention. A hand leaves the tablet to join his own and Magnus hums contentedly, “I can easily summon some gymnastic equipment and ice it over.” At Alexander’s look he sends his own, “I’ve seen what you and your hunters can do, my love. Don’t look at me like that, we both know whose right.”

It’s Magnus, and he takes great pride in the fact that the only response Alexander can give is a rueful huff.

“That would probably help them figure out balance easier and in a much more controlled manner.” Alexander finally admits and then his mouth twitches, “not to mention that this group will practically consider it a reward. It’s a fun way for them to learn, they won’t treat that lightly. I’ll probably have to put a limit on how much time I let them train in there.”

Magnus laughs, unable to help it and he can’t help but tug on Alexander’s hand until he can press his lips against the little scars where Alexander’s knuckles once split.

“Now, tell me again, lovely. What hidden weapon did you decide to first teach your cherubs?”

“Blowdart.” Alexander says and he puts down the tablet to summon an elegant, adamas blowdart to his palm.

Magnus bites back his appreciation, because this isn’t the time for it, unfortunately.

Alexander has given enough of his day over and while Magnus has appointments, he’s more than willing to let them run late and stay a bit longer with his love. Especially when he gets more insight and a better understanding of Alexander’s responsibility. His hunter isn’t hesitant to speak with Magnus, but he rarely wants to bring clave or Institute issues to their home. Oh he’ll pace and rant about one or two specific indivduals — typically clave — stupidity, but he rarely opens up about the intricacies of his nights.

Magnus knows he trains, himself and others. That he hunts and overseas reports and and that each head of the various departments reports to him in finality. There are a dozen other responsibilities that Magnus knows about almost peripherally, but Alexander also tends to assume that Magnus already knows. He treats each duty that he — finally — will mention as an afterthought. As thought it’s impossible that Magnus didn’t already know of it.

As flattering as it is, it’s also maddening in these instances. Magnus supposes it is a bit his own fault. He’d made quite a show of his ‘knowledge’ when teasing Alexander when they’d first met and later in pettiness when he’d come for help.

It leaves Magnus hungry for each piece of information that Alexander lets slip, his boy never guessing that Magnus hoards each piece as a new sliver of a grand puzzle.

It’s a delight to unravel Alexander, especially when Magnus is rewarded each time with evidence of Alexander’s abilities.

His darling never disappoints.

[jace-has-no-last-name]

Waking in the infirmary hadn’t surprised, Jace, waking alone however had. Where was Alec? Had he actually gone too far this time? A small sliver of regret came over him. But it didn’t last very long.

“An alpha shifter Jace? Really ? You do know he’s a wolf don’t you?”

Ah. Jace slumped back into the uncomfortable infirmary bed. There he was.

“I suppose we should be thankful he just didn’t simply eat you. They do that sort of thing you know.” The sound of his parabatai’s voice soothed him. His tone was sharp. He was scared. Alec got angry when he was scared. But to Jace it sounded heavenly.

“I could go for a master vampire next time.” Jace offered, trying to be helpful.

Alec collapsed into the chair next to the bed with a grunt. His chair it seemed. He looked tired. Haggard. Like he hadn’t slept in a few days. “Sure. Then we’d have to drown you in holy water before we set to scrubbing your blood out of the carpets.” He pressed a hand to his head, leaning against the side of the chair. And Jace realized with a spark of satisfaction that Alec had been there all night. Or…all morning? Maybe. Jace wasn’t sure. “The Clave would be thrilled though. They are always looking for reasons to execute a vampire. You could single-handedly wipe out the entire species.”

Okay. That one stung a little but not really. Jace’s lips twitched. “Yeah but…” He let out a whistle of appreciation. “The sex would be fantastic.”

That didn’t amuse, Alec. Not one bit. “So that’s what this was about? Raunchy sex?”

Jace could hear the exasperation in his parabatai’s voice. It made the hollow ache in his middle lessen a bit. He settled back against the pillow, grimacing a bit as the movement jostled his shoulder. Deceptively strong hands adjusted him a little better. “Alec.” He chided when the other nephilim fell back in his seat. “When has it ever not been about raunchy sex?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, trying to make the other laugh.

Alec however simply stared at him. It was like he could see through him. Straight to his soul. Something in Jace’s chest seized. He didn’t want Alec there. He didn’t want anyone there.

The two sat like that for what felt like an eternity. An internal struggle as Alec pressed harder and Jace resisted. Conjuring up all his walls to protect himself. But from Alec? That felt wrong. Really, terribly wrong.

“I felt it.” Alec said in a harsh whisper.

Jace shivered a bit, rubbing his arms like he was cold. And it was cold. And it was coming from Alec. “Felt what?” He asked a little petulantly.

“I felt you die.”

He felt everything then. Every bruise, every bump just everything. And the pain of it stole his breath away. But it wasn’t the physical pain that bothered him. No. It was the wall that suddenly came to fall between them. Jace gasped at it knowing that he hadn’t put it there. Alec had. Then he knew something happened between them. Something that changed Alec. His Alec. Licking his lips to prepare himself, he rasped: “Alec..”

That was evidently the wrong thing to do. Because Alec retreated, dropping his face into his hands.

Jace moved forward to touch him but Alec shook his head. Not knowing what to do or what to think Jace just sat there, arm extended towards Alec.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Alec’s voice was tight, pained.

Jace could handle Alec’s anger. Enjoyed it actually. But pain? He didn’t know how to deal with that. “I don’t…”

“No.” Alec said holding up a hand. “Let me finish.” He took a breath to steel himself for something. Resolve maybe? Meeting Jace’s eyes he said. “Clary wasn’t your fault.”

He recoiled then. His arm dropping to his lap. The sound of her name sliding through him like a knife through flesh. And it hurt. And Alec knew it was going to hurt. But he said it anyway. “This isn’t about her.” He breathed, desperately grasping at anything he could to save himself.

“This has always been about her!” Alec snapped. Apparently not moved by his pain. Not enough to stop anyway. “I’m sorry she’s gone. And I’m sorry she hurt you. But continually putting yourself in harms way because you feel some sense of obligation to her has got to stop. She’s gone, Jace. And she’s not coming back. You have to let it go.”

Jace blinked back angry tears. His jaw clenched so tightly he thought he might crack his teeth. But Alec apparently wasn’t finished with him.

“I didn’t come here to watch you die.” Alec said softly. Though Jace knew he was still angry. “I came here to help save you.” He stood then, with such an effort Jace felt it in his bones. “Because I love you.”

Jace clenched his fists so tightly he turned the knuckles white. He ignored the ache in his shoulder the action caused. There wasn’t anything he could say. He knew Alec loved him. That much was clear as day. But Alec had decided to stop allowing him to self-destruct and that actually stung. Had put up a barrier between them that Jace wanted so badly to shatter. He let Alec leave. Watched him go. Knowing that something changed.

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #2

Latex Love 🖤 / Masquerade Ball 💃

For a culture that eschews Mundane holidays as strongly as it does, the Nephilim world goes buck fucking wild for any reason to celebrate. Alec has counted sixteen ice sculptures in this room alone, all made of Seelie ice so they’ll barely melt over the course of the evening, and that’s not even counting the carved ice runes keeping the raw bar cold. 

The occasion? It’s Consul Penhallow’s fiftieth birthday. Or it’s her fifth service anniversary? Alec’s not really sure. Izzy whispered it to him behind her hand after two glasses of champagne and he’s pretty sure she didn’t know either. 

He shouldn’t even be here. He has acres of paperwork piling up and a brewing civil suit between two rival warlocks that’s going to give everyone in a ten-block radius an ulcer if he doesn’t defuse it in the next few days. The last thing he needs is to be holding another glass of champagne in the ballroom of one of Lorenzo Rey’s insane properties, wearing a mask that obscures most of his face and half of his vision. 

Not to mention the inherent food safety risks of the raw bar. Eurgh.

He peels away from Jace, who’s diligently trying to figure out who literally everyone in the room is, with Clary hanging over his shoulder offering hints, and goes to inspect the rest of the appetizer offerings. He squints through his mask at the overembellished script on the little toothpick flags at the front of each platter. If Izzy weren’t already two drinks deep and totally bought into the quote unquote romance of a masked ball, he would have ripped the thing off half an hour ago, but he’s got a sneaking suspicion she’s got some kind of tracker on him to make sure he complies with the theme.

“What a spread,” comes a velvety voice from behind him, and Alec whirls, almost sweeping a platter of salmon tartlets to the floor. 

“Uh — what?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says the stranger, not sounding it. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just admiring the opulence. Clearly the Clave spared no expense to celebrate Consul Penhallow. If only they’d devote the same resources to infrastructure.”

Alec, caught off guard, huffs out a laugh. “I know, right? We could actually convert to green energy instead of just saying we will every few years.”

He can’t make out the stranger’s eyes behind his elaborate mask, which is disconcerting. With his luck he’s probably talking to someone responsible for the green energy initiative. 

But the stranger laughs. Alec could swear his voice sounds familiar, but it’s so loud in here and everything echoes off the flagstone, so maybe he’s wrong. He doesn’t look like anyone Alec knows, from what he can see of him. He’s wearing a suit made from deep, rich purple material with a gold floral design that looks like it would have a texture if Alec reached out and touched it. His hair is dark and falls in a glossy swoop over the right eye of his intricate gold mask; the left side of his mask is adorned with peacock feathers so Alec can’t see either of his eyebrows. He’s a bit shorter than Alec, and he’s a lot rounder. Like, a lot rounder. 

“But still,” the stranger is saying. “I can’t complain. I’m here, aren’t I? I never could resist a party.”

Alec tries not to stare, because he can’t actually think of anyone in the Clave — anyone in the Nephilim world, really — who’s fat. Is that weird? That’s probably weird, right? 

But this guy — maybe it’s his size, maybe it’s his whole purple getup and the peacock feathers, but he looks like the word he uttered a moment ago: opulence. Hoping he can’t see too much through his mask either, Alec subtly checks him out: a round face beneath the edge of his mask, pretty lips, soft double chin. Thick arms, plump hips, a rotund belly that sets his stance wide. His suit fits him well, and he carries his weight like he’s not interested in making himself smaller. Alec’s throat is suddenly as dry as his love life.

“Like what you see?” asks the stranger, his voice tipping up coyly. He turns in an exaggerated circle for Alec to drink in, finishing with a graceful little bow that makes his stomach pour forward. 

“I, uh, just — I really don’t know who you are,” Alec stammers. “But I guess we’re not supposed to tell, right? It ruins the mystique or something?”

“I’ll ruin your mystique,” the stranger purrs, and Alec must look verklempt because he adds hastily, “Care to accompany me through the hors d’oeuvres? I’m famished.”

He holds out a hand like the Southern belles in that Mundane movie phase Izzy went through back when she was thirteen. He’s even wearing lace gloves, for god’s sake.

Alec is zero percent sure about taking some random guy’s hand in a crowd of his coworkers, friends, and loved ones, but then he remembers that probably no one can tell who he is, either, and so why the fuck not. 

He takes his hand. The guy’s hand is warm and soft beneath the lace, nails glinting darkly, and his grip is firm in a way that makes Alec feel secure. They’re just two guys being dudes, cruising the appetizer table in a very casual way.

“Not feeling the raw bar?” Alec jokes nervously, and the guy purses his lips. Can the guy feel his hand sweating? “No? Not an oyster guy?”

The stranger scoffs. “Once you’ve had them prepared the selkie way off the coast of the Hebrides, nothing else quite measures up. And besides, I haven’t lived for centuries just to go belly-up from some improperly chilled oysters. Seelie ice hardly maintains the temperature that premium seafood requires.”

Alec momentarily gets derailed by belly-up and can’t help dropping his gaze down to where the stranger’s stomach rounds out just inches from his own. It’s oddly tantalizing, and he swallows once, twice, before trying to latch onto some more relevant information. Centuries — so he must be a Downworlder. 

 “Centuries?” Alec echoes. “Which was your favorite?”

It feels for a second like it might be a stupid question, but the stranger replies without missing a beat. “I’ve a taste for the Baroque period, if you couldn’t tell.” He gestures to his outfit with a flourish. “I sat for Rubens back in the day, if you get my drift. I actually had this mask specially crafted for a ball in Antwerp back in, oh, it must have been 1611, maybe 1612.”

Alec doesn’t know what half of those words mean, but from the guy’s tone, he thinks he might be flirting. “I don’t know who that is,” he admits, taking a plate for himself and handing one to the guy. “The Shadowhunter education isn’t big on art history.”

“Really,” says the guy, and he sounds genuinely interested. “But — all the angels!”

“Yeah, I mean, half of those aren’t actual angels. They don’t really look like that. Or, I guess, maybe they would to a Mundane, but they’d get blinded by divine light way before they could tell what an angel looked like anyway.” He takes a Gruyère puff for himself and then, on what feels like a daring whim, puts one on his stranger’s plate as well. The stranger’s pretty lips curl into a smile. There’s glitter on them, or something? Izzy would know what it’s called, and she would never stop making fun of Alec if he asked. 

“You know, that’s oddly reassuring,” muses the guy, popping the Gruyère puff into his mouth and reaching for another. “I’ve always wondered if those horrible little ill-proportioned cherubs are what you Nephilim see in times of crisis.”

Alec bursts out laughing despite himself. “I don’t think the Clave could take itself half as seriously if they were.” The stranger smiles too, warm and soft, and Alec backtracks: “Hey, wait, you still have to tell me about sitting for Ruben or whoever.”

The guy hesitates, and for a horrible second Alec is sure that he’s blown it. But then the guy leans in and says, his voice low and rich, “Proposition: Let’s fill some plates and find somewhere a bit quieter.”

It sends a chill through Alec in the good, sexy way. He nods his agreement, and the guy gives one quick, pleased nod, as if to say, It’s decided. “There’s a courtyard around here somewhere, if I’m not mistaken.”

Alec smirks. “Oh, so you’ve been to Lorenzo’s parties before?”

“Have I.” He grimaces. “A necessary evil in my line of work, I’m afraid. One must keep things diplomatic, no matter how tacky one finds them.”

Alec snorts. Part of him wants to say fuck the food, let’s go hide in the courtyard, but all he can see is this guy’s perfect mouth and he kind of wants to see more of it. And if there’s something mesmerizing about watching him carefully choose and then eat appetizers, well, then, Alec is simply not going to dwell on that right now.

He throws some stuff on a plate and tails his stranger through the room, breathless despite the fact that his legs are longer and he doesn’t need to work to keep up. Alec’s spent a lot of time quietly lusting over all the stupidly hot things guys do when they don’t know someone’s watching, but watching slim, muscular guys amble around the training room and strut around in leather is very different from watching this guy. His big belly pulls him forward, and the slight sway of his gait makes it clear that his thighs rub together despite his fancy suit. His ass is tremendous from behind, not just in size but in — Alec doesn’t know what word to apply to it. It’s majestic. He thinks about running his hands over it, skimming over the rolls of his wide hips and up to the ample plush of his belly, and he almost drops his plate.

“Oh — here,” says his stranger, hanging a quick left and directing Alec out a hidden door to what appears to be a small, private jungle. “It’s quite lovely, I’ll give him that. Even if it’s a bit — gauche.”

The air outside is cool and a little wet, not humid but almost dewy in a hopeful, vernal way. His stranger sets his plate down at a little wrought iron table in the corner by a small waterfall set into the lush greenery and rockwork. His stranger eases into an iron chair beset by frilly curlicues, and it is not lost on Alec how much he overflows it. If the seat had arms, he certainly wouldn’t fit; as it is, he has to scoot the chair back from the table so it doesn’t dig into his belly.  

“I wanted to be chivalrous and get you another drink,” sighs the guy, reclining a bit in the chair in a way that puts not just his gut but the bulk of his thighs and snug seams of his trousers, “but alas. Now that I’ve sat, I fear I won’t be getting back up for a while.” He palms his enormous belly, and Alec, eyes wide in sudden, abject enchantment, swears he can see him wink through his mask. “It’s a lot of effort to haul all of this around.”

“I’ll get drinks,” Alec barrels over him, and before the guy can even finish his sentence, he’s off and running, practically colliding with the first cocktail waiter he sees. He grabs two champagne flutes and gets halfway back to the buffet before realizing he has no earthly way of carrying two glasses and a plate. Suddenly it feels like the most important thing in the world to get this guy something nice to eat now that he went to all the work of taking Alec to his romantic secret courtyard. Either the alcohol is going to his head or he’s literally under a spell, and he’s pretty sure that the Clave’s suite of pre-event warding would prevent the latter.

His stranger has worked through quite a bit of his plate by the time Alec returns, panting, and sets the glasses down between them. The guy tips his head up to Alec, chin muddling softly into his soft neck, and smiles at him dreamily. “Thank you, darling. Sit, eat, and I’ll explain Rubens to you.”

Alec sits and eats and watches his guy eat too. Between bits of his anecdote, his guy has something to say about each hors d’oeuvre, remarking on the flavor balance or mouthfeel or seasonality, and Alec soaks it all in, rapt.  

“And so Rubens,” he’s saying, “had a penchant for — fuller-figured girls, if you will, like yours truly.” He pauses, preens. “I was quite large even then; it’s a shame it’s been rather lost to time. If I remember correctly, I was Rubens’ only male nude. It’s truly a triumph; he painted me spilling out of a dressing gown, fresh from the bath, all rosy and damp —”

Alec chokes on a crumb of tartlet crust. His brain feels like that video Jace showed him of an entire fireworks display going off at once. 

“And by ‘lost to time,’” concludes the guy cheekily, “I mean ‘spelled into oblivion in my apartment, lest the Met acquire one of my greatest honors.’”

“You’ll have to show me,” Alec grinds out. The guy’s lips curl into that smile again, and slowly, he reaches one plump, begloved hand across the table. Alec takes it. And maybe he is under a spell, because he can barely believe the words on his tongue even as he cues them up.

“Can I kiss you?” 

His guy’s smile widens. “I thought you’d never ask.”

And well, Alec’s not going to make him get up for it, so he scoots his chair closer to his stranger and leans forward until he’s practically sprawled across the guy’s stomach. He cups his soft cheek in one hand, breathes in his sweet, spicy, incense-y smell —

— and their masks bash together.

“God damn it,” says Alec, and the guy laughs. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. You’ll see it in the Rubens eventually, I hope.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Alec, grinning back. His own mask is pretty plain — black with some silver scrollwork. Izzy picked it out under strict instruction to get him the least obnoxious one available. “On three?”

“On three,” his guy agrees, and they count together: one, two, three.

Alec pulls off his mask, already feeling a big dumb grin spreading across his face — until he looks across the table, and the grin falls away as his mouth drops open.

This guy’s eyes are familiar — golden, expertly made up. His pudgy cheeks belie his high cheekbones, and the coquettish, self-assured look on his face rings one too many bells. No. No no no no. He has not spent the last hour getting hot and bothered over Magnus Bane, serial flirt, general pain in Alec’s ass, and half of the warlock civil suit that’s currently driving him insane.

“Well,” says Magnus as Alec gapes, “I must say that wasn’t quite the response I was hoping for.”

“No!” says Alec, categorically unable to process this. “I know you! You’re — you’re —”

“Thin?” supplies Magnus. “Slender? Trim? The masculine ideal? A South Asian Adonis?”

“Yes!” says Alec helplessly. “Why are you even at Lorenzo’s if you’re in a fucking lawsuit against him? Wait, is this a disguise? Is that it? What the fuck, Magnus?”

Magnus, to his credit, looks only marginally fazed by all of Alec’s to-do. “No, darling,” he drawls, drawing a hand down the wide, lush expanse of his middle. “Not quite, at least. This isn’t the disguise. But the body you’re familiar with? That’s camouflage, Alexander. Look around. Do you see anyone at this party who looks like me? Do you think any of them would take me seriously in this body? For the ones charged with stewarding the supernatural world, Nephilim have a list of prejudices as long as both of your legs.”

Alec goes quiet. 

“And yes,” Magnus goes on, “I am, at present, legally entangled with Lorenzo Rey. However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to miss out on the chance to sneer at his decor and enjoy his bonnes bouches and champagne. Et voilà: in this body, he’d never guess.” He gives a theatrical shrug and fixes Alec with a coy, catlike gaze. “What can I say, I’m a petty creature. Still want to kiss me?”

And the thing is that Alec does. Maybe he could stand to learn a thing or two from the Downworld about how shortsighted the Nephilim can be, and maybe he’d better also do some soul searching about whether he’s got some newfound preferences or if he’s been repressing these like he’s been repressing everything else. 

“On one condition,” he says, and Magnus lifts a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Yes, darling?”

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, giving Magnus a hand up and going a little weak in the knees as Magnus rocks forward and levers himself up with a soft noise that Alec wishes he could play back again and again. “Let me at least buy you dinner first. It won’t be bone bush or whatever you said, but there’s a really good Italian place up near the Institute. Cloth napkins, everything. My treat. And the chairs don’t have arms, either. And, um.” He laces his fingers through Magnus’s, and Magnus steps closer, the heavy curve of his belly brushing the front of Alec’s suit. 

“Yes?”

Alec’s finding it a little hard to breathe. “I don’t want you to think that — you’re still, uh, — I think you’re still —”

Magnus waits. 

“I think you’re really hot like this,” Alec finishes. “Like, you look so good that you’re making it hard to talk. Or think. I don’t want you to think that I don’t think that about this body. I do. Like, I really, really do.”

Magnus cups Alec’s face in one hand, and he’s so close that Alec can feel the warmth radiating from him, the soft give of his body. “Alexander Lightwood, a romantic,” he purrs. “Who would have thought?”

“It’s my mystique,” says Alec, jamming his own mask back over his face and gesturing for Magnus to do the same. “Come on, before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

Magnus’s hand is snug around his as they spill out of the party. The sweet, soft air smells like hope.

[im-out-of-it]

season 1, episode 9 discussion list, “rise up”

this one and the following episodes (especially Malec) will be broken up in many parts so I thank anyone who takes the time and reads them 🥰

1. I feel bad for Simon processing that he’s a vampire. oh and he thinks Raphael did this. wait until he finds out it’s his supposed bestie

2. he has to process that 1. he’s a vampire. 2. his bestie made this choice for him. 3. he can’t go out in the daytime. 4. can never be near his mother right away or tell her the truth without her thinking her son is a monster. 5. has to go through all these changes. 6. having to rely on blood for his food. 7. oh and yeah being a downworlder who is seen inferior in the shadow world

3. “Alec, I need you.”- jace. bro does he know anything besides begging Alec for help? I know he doesn’t know yet that Alec was injured but think about someone else for a change. Alec has done everything for Jace and he’s still like “oh I need you to do this.” good on Izzy for shutting that down

4. like Alec is literally injured??????? I’m sorry about Simon but jace has been fixing Simons problems for the last episodes and no one is concerned about Alec- besides Izzy and Magnus

5. “Valentine attacked my home. Alec is injured, we have to go.”- jace. at least he’s finally showing some concern for Alec. and then clary is all like ummmm I can’t because of Simon. he’s finally putting Alec before clary (which is rare) for a change

6. “say that after you get my bill.”- Magnus making everyone but Alec pay heavily for his services will never get old lmao

7. giving Magnus the cold shoulder 😭 Magnus offered free services and Alec declined 🥹

8. well meliorn has just been arrested so sit tight while Izzy finds a way out

9. and Izzy is not having it

10. and also can we talk about meliorn and izzy? I really like the show version of them together. in the books, he doesn’t really give a shit about izzy and Alec eventually kills him. sorry if I spoiled anything but if it’s saving you from reading the books, you’re welcome, I’m happy to provide my services 🥰 I just wish they would have dated a little bit longer. I like Simon with Isabelle but it’s not formed and explored very well

11. Lydia is basically like you told state secrets Isabelle and be lucky you aren’t arrested lmao “I have orders, I never wanted any of this.”-Lydia

12. it’s hard to take sides because I’m on downworlders side for most things so I agree with Izzy but Lydia can’t just go against the clave without anybody backing her up. also we have to remember that she thinks this needs to be done because she couldn’t save her husband and he died. so maybe a part of her thinks this is necessary which infact they’re going to possibly torture a downworlder and that’s still wrong.

13. well now everyone knows that Alec is engaged 😬

14. I love how most of season one Alec is YOU LIED TO ME because literally almost everyone is lying or deceiving Alec

15. “they’re the ones who tarnished the Lightwood name”.-Alec has a good point because Maryse and Robert but mainly Maryse goes on about how Alec and Izzy need to basically be perfect while they committed atrocities in the past. I do think Maryse had growth in the show but they’re expecting Alec to fix their reputation and that’s a lot to put on your son.

16. and this is why we don’t go home after becoming vampires:

17. you almost kill your mother 😭

18. “Simon, we have always been here for each other.”- clary. oh you mean how he’s been there for you? that’s accurate but have we actually seen clary be there for Simon? yes she helps him when he’s kidnapped but he got kidnapped because of her. I’m sorry but I haven’t actually seen clary actually do something for Simon that didn’t benefit her in a way

19. “you call that love? where I come back to this nothing, where I feed, and I have to hide from the sun, and I can’t bare to be by the people that I love.”- Simon go off 🔥 because she is showing that she did it for herself. oh because I love you Simon! yet you never thought how Simon would process this change

20. Simon had every right to be upset with clary

21. the clave treats jace as some valuable being but here the clave finds out that they have had the cup this whole time 😬

22. “She’s risked everything to find it.”-jace. “and we’ve risked everything for her.”-Alec. literally Izzy almost gets deruned as a result of jace wanting to not take sides until clary is involved. they broke many clave rules but that doesn’t matter to jace. I don’t like the clave but I don’t agree with a powerful cup being in the hands of someone like clary or Jocelyn.

23. I don’t know if Alec has really gone too far with meliorn’s arrest because it’s not like he’s issuing these orders but he is following them. so it’s kinda just as bad, you know????? but after learning about his parents betrayal and jace not having his back, Alec most likely feels he’s ran out of options and thinks this might be the best case scenario (just a thought)

part 2 coming right up

[x-ceirios-x]

City of Lost Souls, Chapter 7: A Sea Change

please see the masterlistfor notes about this series/collection of works

Jordan had only just fallen back asleep when the banging on the front door came again. He rolled over and groaned. The clock by the bed said 4:00 a.m. in blinking yellow numbers. 

More banging. Jordan rolled reluctantly to his feet, dragged on his jeans, and staggered into the hallway. Blearily, he jerked the door open. “Look—”

The words died on his lips. Standing in the hallway was Maia. She was wearing jeans and a caramel-colored leather jacket, and her hair was pulled up behind her head with bronze chopsticks. A single loose curl fell against her temple. Jordan’s fingers itched to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. Instead he jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Nice shirt,” she said with a dry glance at his bare chest. There was a backpack slung over one of her shoulders. For a moment his heart jumped. Was she leaving town? Was she leaving town to get away from him?”Look, Jordan—”

“Who is it?” The sudden voice off to his side was rough, and he noticed Rowan reheating coffee from the night before in the microwave. Not the most appetizing choice, but they looked exhausted. Their hair was more of a mess than it had been the evening before and the shadows under their eyes were more pronounced. 

Maia’s mouth snapped shut. “It’s me,” she said in a not particularly friendly tone. “Are you…visiting Simon?”

“Simon’s not here,” they said distractedly. Shut up, Jordan thought frantically. “He’s out somewhere.”

Maia’s cheeks reddened. “First he’s cheating on me with Isabelle, now you and Jordan are screwing around—”

Rowan dropped their mug. Thankfully, it was only about an inch above the countertop, so it didn't break, but a bit of coffee sloshed out. They cursed as the hot drink hit their hand. “Oh—by the Angel, no. Not at all what’s going on here.”

“Maia—”

“No,” Maia said sharply. “Don’t. Forget about Simon and Jordan. What I have to say, it’s something you need to hear, too.”

Rowan paled, though they continued to clean up the spill. “If you’re talking about Jace and Clary, I was at Magnus’s last night, then came here. I heard,” they said, their voice taking on a harshly bitter and tired tone. “Magnus wants to get ahold of the Praetor.”

“Woah,” Jordan said, looking between the two of them. Maia nodded, as if agreeing that was what she came here to talk about. “Does someone want to fill me in?”

So they did. They explained everything in pieces, filling in the gaps where one had only heard part of the story as they went. Jace had gone after Clary, tried to convince her to come with him and Sebastian. There had been a fight and Luke ended up injured, and the pack was trying their best to heal him with little luck. 

“Magnus called and asked me to come and see you. He tried to reach you but he couldn’t. He wants you to put him in touch with the Praetor Lupus.”

“Put him in touch with….” Jordan shook his head and looked to Rowan. “You didn’t want to mention this last night?”

“I won’t lie, I was so tired by the time I got here, I’d forgotten that you were the one I was supposed to ask.”

Jordan ran his hand over his face. “You can’t just call the Praetor. It’s not like 1-800-WEREWOLF.”

Maia crossed her arms. “Well, how do you reach them, then?”

“I have a supervisor. He reaches me when he wants to, or I can call him in an emergency—”

“This is an emergency.” Maia hooked her thumbs through her belt loops on her jeans. “Luke could die, and Magnus says the Praetor might have information that can help.” She looked at Jordan, her eyes big and dark. He ought to tell her, he thought. That the Praetor didn’t like getting mixed up in affairs of the Clave; that they kept to themselves and their mission—to help new Downworlders.That there was no guarantee they would agree to help, and every likelihood that they would resent the request. 

But Maia was asking him. This was something he could do for her that might be a step down the long road of making it up to her for what he's done before. 

“Okay,” he said. “Then, we go to their headquarters and present ourselves in person. They’re out on the North Fork of Long Island. Pretty far from anywhere. We can take my truck.”

“Fine,” Maia hoisted her backpack higher. “I thought we might have to go somewhere, that’s why I brought my stuff.”

“Hey,” Rowan said suddenly, catching Jordan’s arm before he left. Their eyes bore into him, pleading for some kind of answers; that was all they’d wanted when they showed up the evening before, too. Answers to why Simon had basically been ghosting them, to their brother’s whereabouts, and if there was any way to gain any modicum of control of the situation presented to them. “Get back fast. And safe.” Their eyes flickered to Maia. “Both of you.”

He didn’t know Rowan well by any means. If this was about Luke, still, he didn’t know why they cared so much about someone they barely knew. He thought back to the night before, and what they’d said about Clary. Maybe that was the difference: people did crazy things when they cared about someone, one way or another.

He nodded. “I’ll keep you updated if we find anything.”

Maia spoke again, a note of seriousness in her tone that wasn’t there a moment before as the severity of the situation set in on them. “Magnus sent me with another message—for you. He wants you to get Isabelle and Andy, and get back to the apartment as soon as possible.”

[masoena]

On the Tip of My Tongue

Shadowhunter Fan Fic - Hurt/Comfort Bingo Fill

This fic is a one-shot to fill a square on my Hurt/Comfort bingo card cas created by @sweetspicybingo

Prompt filled: it's not fair to recovery room

Fandom: Shadowhunters

Pairing: Jalec - Jace Wayland/Alec Lightwood

Rating: Mature (for violence)

“Jace!!! Nooo!!!” Alec dropped his bow and the arrow he was about to shoot as he watched Jace collapse to the ground, the warlock and his ravener demon were pulverized by Magnus’ magic but not before Jace had been first stung by the demon’s poisoned tail to his shoulder and been blasted by a sickly green nearly opaque pulse of demon powered magic from the warlock who’d been brainwashed to do Valentine’s bidding.

It was the latest of Valentine’s series of passive-aggressive and increasingly less subversive attacks on the New York Institute and the Clave by extension. Alec himself went down as his legs went out from under him with the agonizing pain that raced through him via his bond with Jace. It wasn’t fair that Jace was getting hurt all the time, he protected both Clary, the cup and by extension the entire Downworlder population with stubborn conviction which only left in harm's way time and time again.

He crawled the last few feet, so that he could cradle Jace’s head in his lap, wrap protective arms around him and whisper encouragement to stay awake, to not give in. The spark in Jace’s beautiful multi-colored eyes was dulling and he could sense Jace fading through the bond.

The blond shadowhunter held on to Alec’s arms that embraced him to then look up into those gorgeous hazel eyes and with barely any sound to it said: “I love you too.” before he passed out.

The beeping was annoying and incessant but somehow he knew he needed to not ignore it, as his mind and body came back online. Jace went through what felt like quicksand to try and claw his way up to a fully awake state. When he opened his eyes, everything was blurry at first, but came into focus slowly as he took in the darkened room he was in.

The beeping was a heart-rate monitor beside his bed; he recognized the room as one of the recovery rooms at the New York Institute. He racked his brain for how he had gotten here but came up blank. The last thing he remembered was a flash of green and searing pain in his left shoulder and Alec’s concerned hazel eyes above him and then nothing but blackness until now.

He looked down from his half seated position and saw the blood transfusion needle stuck in the back of his hand along with another in his arm to administer a bag of clear liquids. His shoulder was bandaged he could just see the dark gray material poke out from underneath the navy blue hospital gown he was wearing.

His hand that wasn’t doubling as a pin cushion, was loosely covered by Alec’s, who had fallen asleep, his head resting on the bed beside Jace’s hip. He looked beautiful and peaceful in sleep. Gently Jace pulled his hand out from under his and carded his fingers gently through the shock of unruly black hair, and could feel his parabatai push into the gentle touch. Jace wanted him so much more than he could ever admit out loud, especially after finding out that Alec felt the same way. The words had been at the tip of his tongue ever since that catastrophic memory demon experience a few weeks back. However, Jace also knew that Valak had taken that memory from Alec so who knew if he even still felt the love that he had so unwillingly disclosed in front of all of them as it had floated towards the memory demon.

Alec slowly opened his eyes, he was sleep-drunk and rather adorably rubbed his eyes before he looked up at Jace who regarded him with a gentle smile.

“Hey there, brother.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been blasted by errant magic and stung by a demon?” Jace tried to laugh but winced when the motion pulled the wound on his shoulder.

“Hey take it easy, funny guy. Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember the warlock aiming at me and that ravener demon appearing out of nowhere. I’ve never seen a warlock with a ravener familiar. It was a very strange thing to see. And then I saw you crouching over me, encouraging me to stay awake before I passed out.”

As Jace said this he recalled vividly and with utmost certainty that what he had said to Alec, seeing his parabatai’s face fall was all the proof he needed.

“Anything else you recall?”

“Yeah, only just now though; I love you Alec, been wanting to say it since the Valak incident but too afraid to. The curse, our bond. I was worried it would change everything but I love you in the way that I shouldn't but I can’t deny it.”

Alec kissed him then, a soft tender meeting of their lips, the touch between them was electric and it made their bond thrum with increased intensity and connectedness, as the link between solidified infinitely more and it couldn’t feel more right to either of them.

[tetsunabouquet]

Heir To The Lands Chapter 24

When Nothing Is Truly Lost Masterpost

Ty absolutely hated whenever this happened. No matter how much he struggled, words wouldn't leave his mouth and his body would feel so heavy as if it had been made of lead. Moving was so difficult and it cost him so much strength. Even as Kit helped him off of the couch, Ty could feel how his movements were clunkier then usual because of the sensation. He felt bitter tears well up in his eyes. How could he ever save Dru in this state?! When he stood still in front of the staircase, he tried to focus all his strength on moving himself up the tais but Kit decided to lift him up intsead. He clung to the blonde, wondering when on earth Kit had gotten so muscular he could carry Ty up the stairs. He had certainly grown taller and more buff. Honestly, Kit was starting to resemble Jace even more. But those sweet sky blue eyes were all Kit's and he had a much more sculpted looking nose. Ty wondered if Kit would find that a weird compliment, but then again, Kit had always accepted him for who he was. Unlike a lot of Shadowhunters, he treated Ty with respect and empathy from the very start. How could he have been such a fool and not have paid more attention to Kit's feelings two years ago? How could grief had blinded him from the kindness and care Kit gave to him, when Kit had been such a closed off boy towards the other Shadowhunters? It was a weird thought, thinking of someone as strong and powerful as Kit to be just as awkward around the Clave as he was. But they had been two peas in a pot, and look how he had lashed out? Look how his attempts to protect Dru from Livvy's fate had so utterly failed. His grief and pain weren't things he could handle alone, Ty had to accept that he would have to need to rely on those around him. Those he had left. He felt a new wave of tears pricking his eyes, and in the sea engulfing his heart he was glad that Kit was there once more, trying to keep him from drowning. Kit would always be there to keep him afloat. He leaned closer to Kit's chest as Kit kicked open his bedroom door. With a few more steps, Kit placed Ty carefully on his bed and Ty could feel himself awkwardly falling on it as if he were a puppet. Kit sat next to him, and slowly as if he were to reach out for a wounded animal, Kit sought physical contact by placing his hand on Ty's shoulder. And finally everything seemed to come loose, like an untied knot. His tears were falling hysterically and he could feel the hiccups tearing his throat apart. Kit lay next to him on the bed, never taking his hand off of Ty's shoulder and the two laid their for heaven's know how long, for as long as Ty needed.

Whilst the rune had been sloppy, Dru could still feel the effects, boosted by Ash's magic. Within minutes, she had regained the strength necessary to move on her own and she went as fast as she did, applying speed runes on herself as she walked. She did not know where this tunnel would lead her, which part of the world she would reach. Dru figured it was best to get back to the Academy and reach Ty and Kit on her phone. She couldn't let the student body take note of her actions. Whilst a war was bound to errupt, it would be unwise to have the other young Shadowhunters run around in blind panic. Or so did the voice in her head which had been shaped by Julian's strategic skills and Ty's intellect, tell her to do so. Dru hoped Thais wasn't stressing out too much, or that Zeynep had told on her. The tunnel's air was steadily beginning to change, and Dru sped up as she could smell scents typical of the mundane world, of food and car gasses. As she neared the tunnel's end, she thought she could hear a train, or subway station. Dru ran for it. There was a gap leading to some kind of railway and as Dru carefully climbed out onto the track after the wagon departed, she could see the signs. Perhaps it was better if Zeynep did tell on her, because Dru was absolutely certain she had just arrived in Germany.

[occasionally-good-authoring]

there are ghosts in these walls (but you won’t ever see them)

@indigothemuse @squishmallow36 surprise, it’s jace!

tw: blood, referenced child abuse

He tore down the walls first. It was a spur of the moment decision, him, Alec, and Magnus stuck in Alicante for some reason Jace can’t remember for the life of him. It was five AM, they were all exhausted, and walking past Wayland Manor. Maybe it was the insanity that comes with dealing with the Clave. Maybe it was the onslaught of memories that left a bitter taste. Maybe it was a million different things and a million different reasons Jace can’t name, but he walked into that damn house anyway. 

Dust covered every inch of the place, left undisturbed for years. He swears to god he can still taste the blood in the air. He stands in that entryway, front door hanging open. Something bubbles under his skin, itching and burning with memories. Alec and Magnus fall in place next to him. They don’t know what he’s going to do, but they’re waiting there anyway.

A million memories hang in just this hallway. Of violence and cruelty that no one deserves, let alone a child. Micheal’s—Valentine’s—blood wasn’t the only blood spilled in this hall. Valentine only bled when he wanted to. Jace bled when Valentine wanted him too. He clenches his hands into fists, stopping the memories. Jace’s eye look over the entry way, landing on the solid gold lamp, tall as Jace is. He used to think it giant when he was a child. 

He doesn’t realize he’s grabbed it until it crashes into the wall. Right through the plaster—or is it wood? Drywall? Jace doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing—over and over again. Dust flies everywhere, painting tumble to the floor, denting the wood and breaking the frames. When the wall is nothing more than flimsy pieces hanging to the frames, he drops the lamp. The lightbulb is long broken, the shade a few feet away in tatters. 

He’s panting, he notices halfheartedly. Alec walks next to him, placing a hand softly on his shoulder. 

“Jace?” 

He doesn’t need to ask anything else, a million questions sitting in his name alone. Are you okay? What do you need? Is there anything I can do?

“I’m making something of this place, Alec,” he says. The dust hasn’t settled yet. Jace won’t give it the chance to. “Something without him.”

Magnus steps past the pair of them, kneeling down to pick up a painting. It’s a good one, objectively, it probably cost a lot. Magnus tosses it back down to the floor. He looks back to Jace.

“Then we’ll come back later, with everything you need and a plan.”

…

They come back with everyone. Simon, Maia, Izzy, Clary, Raphael. They spend weeks destroying the house, tearing everything down. Except for the library. Jace refuses to step foot in the library. His fingers ache when he reaches for the door handle. He should let them open the door, but the piano reeks of memories. Blood may still be on the keys. 

Now, it’s midnight. Everyone long gone besides Simon and Maia. The library is the only place left to tear down. The bones of the house are the only thing left, the only walls still up. It’s a warm night, the stars looking down on them. Jace stands in what used to be the hallway to the library. It’s only wood now. No more walls left up except for the ones in front of him.

“Hey, Sunshine, it’s getting late,” Simon says softly. Jace didn’t even notice he was there. He’s to Jace’s left. Maia is on his right. 

“Or early,” Maia says.

Jace takes a disastrous step towards the library door. His fingers begin to ache again. Simon and Maia take it with him, Maia intertwining her fingers with his. The ache doesn’t lessen, but Maia and Simon make it easier to bear. Jace reaches for the doorknob, fingers shaking with an phantom ache. Simon and Maia wait for him to open the door. 

The door swings open. Jace nearly chokes on the dust the falls out. The smell of blood slips out of the dark room, whether or not it’s truly there, Jace doesn’t know. Maia squeezes his hand, Simon presses his shoulder against Jace’s. He takes a shaky breath and stares into the dark room. The ghostly shape of the piano stares back at him. The books he was never allowed to read unless he was told to laugh at him.

He steps inside slowly. Simon and Maia follow him. The dust collects in his lungs. Maia rubs circles on Jace’s hand with her thumb. There’s blood on the piano keys. Jace can feel his breathing get quicker, shallower. Simon wraps his arm around Jace’s waist and starts to hum, one of the songs he wrote for Jace and Maia, just like he always does. Jace focuses on it, on Maia’s hand, Simon’s arm. 

He lets it pulls him back. The piano keys are white, the dust can be cleaned, the books can be read. This library is Jace’s now, not Valentine’s. 

“We keep this room,” he says. His voice is shaking just a little bit, but it will never be small again in this house. Valentine isn’t here. He doesn’t have to ever be small in Wayland Manor again. 

“Are you sure, lovely?” Simon asks. 

“Yeah.” 

Jace stares at the piano, feeling the break of his fingers. He can see himself at that bench, nine years old with broken fingers. He can see Valentine holding Jace’s only remaining finger in his hand while a nine year old tries not to cry out as it breaks. Then, with broken bones, he sees himself start La Campanella again. 

“I know what to make of this house,” he says. 

…

When the new walls go up, Jace paints them a million different colors. Sky blue, emerald, pink, lilac. Clary decorates them, flowers and clouds and sunsets. Magnus and Alec help him paint the outside, a nice soft yellow that Valentine would’ve hated. But it isn’t his house anymore. Hell, it never was. It was Michael Wayland’s and now it’s Jace’s. 

Now, it’ll be a place of solace. A place where when a child sits down at the piano, their fingers won’t be broken for a wrong note. They’ll be corrected softly and encouraged. No more children will be broken down in Wayland Manor. 

No more children like Jace will be within those colorful walls. For weeks, Jace ends the day with yellow paint up to his elbows. The Manor is covered in a month. Simon and Maia are the ones to hold him when he cries. And for once, tears in Wayland Manor are happy. 

They build all the furniture by hand. And when the attic is done, a simple bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen Jace stays there. It’s odd, living in the Manor again. He makes dinner for him, Simon, and Maia in a blur. The walls still smell like new paint. 

He doesn’t fall out of it until he’s in bed with them. Simon and Maia have stuck him in the middle of their bed, Simon’s head on Jace’s chest, Maia’s leg wrapped around his. 

“How’re you doing, Sunshine?” Simon asks. 

Jace stares up at the ceiling. “I feel like I’m dreaming. For so long, this house was a nightmare. It was full of memories I didn’t want to have, things I didn’t want to experience. But it’s mine now. It doesn’t seem real yet.”

Maia props herself up on her elbows. She leans down and kisses Jace softly. “That seem real, Pretty Boy?” she asks with a smile. 

“It does.”

Maia kisses Simon’s forehead and drops back onto her stomach. 

“I love you both,” he says softly. It might just be the first time those words have been spoken in this house in Jace’s lifetime. He really has made something new here, hasn’t he?

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

“Love you too, Herondale.”

And when he wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating and panicked, they wake up with him. Maia and Simon hold him when they make sure he’s okay with it. The panic of openly crying in Wayland Manor never truly leaves Jace, not yet, but it’s faded. 

It’s faded and there’s something new here. Something without Valentine.

…

When the children arrive, Jace makes Simon and Maia promise him something. 

“If I ever hurt any of them, make me leave and never let me come back in.”

“You won’t, Jace,” Maia says. Two children, a pixie, Lizabet, and a Shadowhunter, Marie, play together in the garden, the three of them on the porch. 

“Promise me. Please. I—I don’t—I need this, please,” he says quietly. The children are laughing, Lizabet tackling Marie. Simon intertwines his fingers with Jace’s. 

“I promise, Jace. And I promise we won’t need this promise,” he says. 

And they never do. Children come and go, Jace throwing himself into being what he never had. He holds them when they cry. He reads them the books he was never allowed to touch. And when they want to learn piano, he teaches them gently. 

It’s love. It’s love when he teaches them La Campanella. It’s healing, when he comforts them, when he builds the playset in the backyard, when he loves them with everything he has. Valentine’s fingers may ghost on his in that library, and he may still see blood on the piano; but these children never will. 

There’s something new in Wayland Manor now, and Jace’s fingers don’t break.

[skylar102]

NLBF - Chapter One

Four years ago

Rain poured down like the Niagara waterfall, seemingly with no end. Alec didn’t even feel his clothes getting soaked as he rushed down the sidewalk, anxiously looking behind him every second. He shouldn’t have been worried, he’d planned this meticulously. Not a single hole in this plan; it had to work. If it didn’t, Alec didn’t know what he was going to do.

He glanced down at the fire message he’d gotten earlier that night, now damp from the rain. His contact got back to him after two weeks of radio silence. Alec had been doubting that he would even hear anything and had worried that he would have to go through what his parents had in store for him. He shivered at the memory of that ‘meeting’ his parents made him join.

Marriage.

At twenty-two years old even Alec knew that Shadowhunters weren’t that behind on the times. This was his parents' way of gaining more favor with the Clave. Plain and simple. The Branwells were a respectable family, one with more power within the Clave than the Lightwood name. The Lightwoods were once a prominent name, then Robert and Maryse had joined the Circle and ruined any favorable reputation they had. Now Alec was paying the consequences of their own actions.

Lydia was a smart woman, but it was clear she was not happy with the situation. Upon further talk with her, Alec found out that she’d actually had a boyfriend for two years. Not only that, but he had proposed to her already. Her parents knew this and still wanted her to go through with this farce of a marriage. It made Alec pissed off not only for himself but for his supposed bride whose heart already belonged to someone else. 

Neither of them deserved this pain.

It wasn’t like the marriage would be anything other than binding. Alec had no romantic feelings for her. He had no feelings toward any woman in the Institute. 

No one knew he was gay and he planned on keeping it that way. Isabelle had started giving him looks recently like she knew, but he made sure to never admit it to her and she never asked. Jace was as blind to his feelings through the bond as he was to everything that involved his parabatai. He loved his siblings and would do anything for them but it was clear they didn’t feel the same. 

They would always tell him to relax and not let Mom and Dad get at him. They never truly saw how much he suffered at their hands. Days locked in his room that he couldn’t leave whenever something went wrong. Slaps on his wrists from his private tutors when his penmanship was just a smidge away from perfect. 

Everything had to be perfect, perfect, perfect.

Alec felt like he hadn’t been a part of the family for a long time. All the responsibility that his parents shoved on his shoulders, not once asking Jace or Izzy to help. Letting them be able to grow up like other shadowhunter kids where he was stuck inside, training and learning. If his siblings got in trouble he was to blame, even when he wasn’t there. Maryse and Robert berated him for not having a tighter leash on his siblings.

Lost in his thoughts he missed the person walking in front of him. He shoulder-checked the man and went knocking to the ground, the stranger's umbrella scattering away. Panicked, he got up fast and repeatedly apologized to the person, helping them off the ground. 

“Well that’s one way to ruin a good pair of pants,” the man sighed. 

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Alec apologized.

“It’s alright, these pants are outdated anyways,” the stranger laughed and then under his breath, “by at least forty years.”

Alec nodded, not understanding the man’s point. He kept his head to the ground, not looking at the man’s face. If people saw through his glamor, they’d try to drag him back to the Institute. He didn’t know if this person was a part of the shadow world or not, but better safe than sorry. 

“What’s your name?” The stranger asked. 

Alec’s eyes widened in panic at the question and with more speed than a normal human should have had, he rushed to grab the stranger’s umbrella, handed it back to him, and ran away with another whisper of an apology.

He ignored the man’s calls behind him and continued on. He’d wasted too much time and he didn’t know if this person would go back on their deal if he was late. He slipped his stele out from his pocket and ran it over his speed rune, just in case that stranger tried to tail him.

He made it to the warlock’s place in the nick of time. He did not waste a second rushing up the stairs to knock on the door, more frantic than planned. He shook off what water he could from his hair now that he was under the roof of the porch.

The door opened to reveal a man dressed like the eighteen hundreds. His skin was a light green, hair white as a ghost, and horns protruding from his head. 

“I see you got my message,” Ragnor greeted.

“I did,” Alec panted. “Please tell me the spell works.”

“Well first off, I’m not going to have you soak up my floors.”

With a snap of Ragnor’s fingers, Alec’s clothes were as dry as they had been when he’d left the Institute. He let out a sigh of relief as the clothes seemed to emanate a slight warmth like they were just pulled from the dryer. Ragnor opened the door the rest of the way and beckoned him in.

“The potion works perfectly,” Ragnor said. “My friend and I worked on it tirelessly the past two weeks since you were in such a rush to get it done. You’re lucky you paid handsomely upfront for the spell or I would have made you wait behind all the other clients I had before you.”

“Thank you again,” Alec said. “I know you are a busy man, but I appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Yes, well any person who’s trying to escape a marriage by faking their death is always a matter that’s way more interesting than a sob story about a person who wants to get revenge on their ex.”

“So you got it to work?” Alec asked timidly.

“Of course I did,” Ragnor sighed. “Did you not just hear how I spent two weeks working on it? What? Did you think I sent you over here just to tell you I had nothing?”

Alec didn’t hear the condescending questions; he’d stopped listening after he heard the spell worked. He didn’t know when his knees gave out, but when he came to, he was crying on the floor of Ragnor’s house and the man was worryingly hovering over him.

“I’m free,” Alec laughed hysterically. 

This was more than just about the marriage. This was about him being free from the shackles of his parents’ iron rule and finally getting to be himself. 

“I have a sense that this is more than about a silly arranged marriage,” Ragnor guessed, hands hovering over, Alec unsure how to help. Alec must have looked like a fool on the ground, tears falling from his face. 

“Yeah,” he croaked out, swiping his sleeve under his nose. He quietly grabbed his stele and removed the glamor. He heard Ragnor shuffle backwards and the distinct smell of a forest after it rains was the reason he knew the warlock had summoned his magic. 

Alec stayed on the ground; he didn’t want to give the man reason to attack him without a chance to explain.

“I asked for this because the marriage would have made me a mindless drone for the Clave to use, manipulate, and abuse any way they could. I’m the scapegoat for my parent’s actions during the Uprising. They wanted me to marry a woman who was already in love with another and set to be married with for me, a nobody,” he explained, his head tilted to the floor. His nails scratched at the carpet beneath his hands as he tried to reign in his fear.

“If I had gone through with the wedding it would have absolved my parents of their horrendous crimes against the downworld and made me the punching bag for their crimes.”

He remembered the way his parents had looked at him without a single flicker of love in their eyes. Only seeing him as a pawn to gain their status back in Nephilim society. It wasn’t like Alec had spent years of his childhood helping in any way he could even when he was clearly too young to handle the pressure they put upon him. But he did it with gritted teeth in hopes that eventually, they would back off.

What a false sense of hope that was.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was a shadowhunter,” he apologized. “I knew that if I came to you begging for help you would refuse me.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, glancing at the sight rune on the back of his hand. “All the others did, saying I got what was coming for me. But I didn’t do anything, I was just a child-”

His voice broke and he watched his tears stain the carpet. He hadn’t meant to bear his entire heart out to this stranger, but if at least one person was going to listen to him, he’d let it be the person who was about to kill him. 

Either way, he’d escape the hell of the life he was living.

“I was two years old when the Uprising ended. I was a child whose parents, rather than accepting their wrongdoings, would push it all onto their first born who didn’t understand why he was being treated badly. I just want to know what it feels like to inhale a fresh breath of air without suffocating from the toxins I grew up around. I just want to be fully myself without having to hide.”

He closed his eyes, waiting for Ragnor to kill him. It was so silent in the house that the only sound he could hear was the rain and thunder outside, seeming to hit harder than before he got here. He awaited whatever Ragnor wished to do to him. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d be turned into a frog and live out the rest of his life in a nearby pond.

Instead, there was a sudden presence wrapping around him.

“What-,” is all Alec could get out before he was pulled into a hug. His breath escaped him as Ragnor seemed to want to squeeze the life out of him. Not how he’d thought his life would end, but he'd take it. Better than being sent to Edom or trapped in the Seelie forest forever.

“You know, I have a friend who also has a shit parent,” Ragnor started. “I remember meeting him right after he escaped a hell hole. The fool was an absolute mess, didn’t trust anyone. It took a solid year before he could even be comfortable in a room alone with me. He fought hard against his parent’s teachings, wanting to be happy and experience the world through the eyes of a free man. He got that chance because he was hard-headed. A trait he still, unfortunately, has to this day,” Ragnor grumbled, getting a wet laugh out of Alec. 

Sounded like this person and Alec would get along swimmingly if given the chance to meet.

“What I am trying to say is that this is not an easy path to take.” Ragnor pulled out of the embrace but kept his hands on Alec’s shoulders. “You’re going to have to unlearn a lot of the teachings you grew up with to survive out here in the real world.” Ragnor gave him a once over and grimaced. “And probably a lesson in how the mundane world works. I know how you Nephilim like to ignore the rest of the world you live in.”

“I- I don’t understand,” Alec said. 

“If you think that you are going to be able to survive out there on your own, you’re wrong,” Ragnor stated. “The world is a cruel place for a Shadowhunter who’s escaping. Not every Downworlder is going to be as kind as I am.”

“I didn’t ask you to do anything more than create the spell,” Alec reminded the man. “I can’t ask you to be connected any more than that. If by some chance it gets out that I faked my death with the assistance of a downworlder it could mean the end of a lot of good people. I can’t ask you to do that. I’d rather just find my way alone.”

“And end up dead within a week? Absolutely not. I have a farm in Ireland I won a few years ago that could use a person who will actually care for it,” Ragnor suggested. He let go of Alec’s shoulders to tap a finger to his chin. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I have visited it at all in the past fifty years which means it will need a thorough cleaning. I hope you are up to the task.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” Alec meekly stated.

“You didn’t ask, I am giving. Now,” Ragnor stood up and walked over to his potion table, grabbing a piece of paper, “this is the spell. Even a shadowhunter like yourself can cast it as it requires only a magical object for it to work.” 

Ragnor handed him both the paper and a bracelet. Alec read over the spell and it seemed easy enough to cast. Now all he had to do was create a situation where he could fake his death. He remembered hearing some shadowhunters talking about a demon nest that needed taking care of earlier that day. If he didn’t schedule anyone to take on the nest in the upcoming days, he could make this work.

He felt his emotions start to get the best of him again. He’d kept them in for so long that it was hard to reign them back in. All those times when he couldn’t express anything or let anyone know how he truly felt. 

It was a relief.

“Thank you for this,” he croaked out. “For all of this. I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing more than meeting me in Central Park after you go through with the spell. I will portal you to Ireland where we will immediately hide any trace of you so no one can track you there.”

“I already have a deruning device so they can’t track me,” Alec explained. At Ragnor’s look of confusion, he explained more. “You don’t need a Silent Brother to remove runes. It’s only used against shadowhunters who have broken the law. It’s the most painful way to get it removed, but I can’t risk the Brothers bringing word back to my family.”

Ragnor looked at him in horror. “So you’re just basically going to torture yourself to get the runes removed?”

“Pretty much?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “I already assumed I would go catatonic for about three days once I removed my parabatai rune.”

“You’re parabatai-” Ragnor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are worse than my friend when it comes to enduring pain, and I thought that was impossible.”

“Well I didn't have a support system when I was planning this out so it was either suffering through the pain of getting my runes removed or just dying,” Alec admitted. “And I didn’t want to take the easy way out.”

Ragnor mumbled something under his breath before speaking louder. ”Fine. Fine! I will reschedule my busy life to take care of your idiotic self for those three days.”

“You don’t-”

“If you finish that sentence I am turning you into a horse,” Ragnor threatened. “Okay, I need to cancel dinner plans but I will be there when you decide to do this. Now get going.” He started to push Alec towards the front door. “Here’s my number, I expect you to tell me everything about when you plan to do this, or I will hunt you down myself.”

“O- okay.” Was all Alec could get out before the door closed behind him. He heard muffled grumbling as he was left alone on the front porch of the townhouse. 

He looked down at the items in his hands and couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his face. He made his way down the stairs. The rain had stopped and all that was left was the same smell of Ragnor’s magic. Alec took a deep breath and started to feel new and fresh in a way he had never felt before.

[skyofstorms]

Alexander Lightwood | Request Muse

Age: 24

Fandom: Shadowhunter Chronicles

Species: Nephilim

Pronouns: He/Him

Romance: Homosexual

Face Claim: Matthew Daddario

About:

Alec was born first of the Lightwood children, a young toddler when his parents and Hodge Starkweather were banned from Idris unless called for political business. Alec was raised to take over the New York Institute, unaware that it was on his shoulders to restore the honor of the Lightwood name that was lost by Maryse and Robert’s betrayal of the Clave. He took his role seriously, only wanting to do as was expected of him despite the lack of knowledge as to why there was so much pressure on him. When Robert and Maryse took in the son of his father’s parabatai, Alec found a friend in Jace and in a few years, realized it wasn’t a normal friendship on his end. The moment he realized he had feelings for Jace, Alec questioned everything. If he wasn’t a good son for not being attracted to women, could he still be a leader even though it was likely he would likely never be able to continue the Lightwood bloodline? It was a worry that plagued him from that moment on.

He ultimately went through the ceremony to become Jace’s parabatai, and kept his emotions a secret from everyone. The only exception was his little sister Isabelle, who was observant beyond her years. He pretended not to know what she was talking about, ignoring the jealousy when Jace vanished for little flings, always aware of the blonde, drawn to him and ignoring the want to be more than he was. And just as he was convincing himself he could hide his sexual proclivities until his last breath, Clary Fray happened. And it was through Clary that Alec met Magnus Bane. While at first he refused to admit it, he was drawn to Magnus in a confusing way, but he fought it for as long as possible. He was unaware of just how much Magnus would come to mean to him.

Asking Magnus awkwardly on a date was one of the hardest things Alec had ever done, not used to being so forward. It was especially odd when Magnus called later on to ask about drinks for the first date. Alec didn’t know how to do it, the casual flirting and dating, having never allowed himself that kind of luxury. So the more time he spent with Magnus, the more he was a confused mix of emotions around the warlock. So when he realized he was in love with Magnus, the nephilim didn’t know how to handle it, not sure what to do. But he followed his heart, choosing Magnus despite the conflict he knew would come from choosing a downworlder. It’s proven to have ups and downs - like all relationships - but the two have overcome a lot and have recently adopted a young warlock boy they’ve named Max.

[sincerely-yours-odette]

Odette leaned into the hug, wrapping her own arms around Finn's neck and shoulders. It didn't take away her worries, but it eased them considerably. She was grateful for the company, especially after having numbed herself to it for hours on end. He brought her back down to earth, to his arms and their familiar warmth. "I think she tried to tell me earlier, but she was rushing, and I just... I wasn't here." Her brow furrowed again. She hoped Ava would find him and bring him back safely. It was reassuring, at the very least.

"It's not just that," Odette replied, tracing idle patterns against Finn's skin as she spoke. It needed to be said, but she knew she wouldn't be able to focus on her words entirely then. To feel them would be far too heavy, and it felt like the worries of the world were already stacked on her chest. "He thinks he needs to do everything by himself. He thinks that showing weaknesses is a fatal flaw, and that includes being emotional... caring. Our father operated that way. And he raised Hayden to be the same. He did everything to strip away the gentleness that Hayden had as a child." Odette let out a shaky sigh. "I didn't warrant that sort of attention. As long as I minded my business and remained as good as invisible, I would be doing what my father saw me as fit for. So I cared. I felt. Deeply and secretly. And I've tried to bring that back to Hayden... because he's not the man our father was. He's not heartless." She nestled deeper into Finn, her nose and lips grazing the skin at the base of his neck. "He's still too prideful to admit he needs anyone else though. And the Clave certainly hasn't helped matters."

Finn turned his head to press a kiss to the head leaned on his shoulder. He found he was relieved to hear that both for their leader and for the woman sat next to him. He'd already witnessed one person lose their parabatai and he never wanted to witness it again. Last night had been far too close. He wished he had the answers for her. There were so many possibilities, none of them great. Disentangling their hands he fully wrapped his arms round her. "Gwaine seemed to get the impression Ava had a lead on his location. He said she got a message right before she left," it wasn't certain, and he couldn't promise that his sister would find him but he hoped that helped in some small way. "I don't pretend to know his motives for going alone but as a brother myself I can guess. I'd wager he just wants you safe, and I know that doesn't help right now," he said, still holding her close. "I'm afraid all you can do is keep reaching out your hand till he's willing to accept it,"

[alexanderlightweight]

Prompt if you like it! Living!John with platonic John, Lydia, Alec who everyone mistakes as in a group relationship. Bonus for moping Alec getting cuddles/sofa-squishes because the gorgeous warlock he keeps running into is giving mixed messages (because he thinks Alec is taken).

i hope you enjoy how this goes, it kind of didn't go the way intended because magnus wasn't about to risk alec getting swept away. thank you for the prompt

<3 lumine

-

“What’s wrong?” 

John hears Lydia ask and whatever she hears makes her furious, her eyes are bright with a tightly contained anger and she stops undressing to instead tie her back and into a ponytail.

John sighs and gets up himself, knowing that while she won’t ask him to follow wherever she’s headed, that he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. 

“Clave?” He asks, because that’s the most likely issue and could be why Lyds is so upset. 

She shakes her head and scowls at the wall, hand rubbing her thigh where a sword normally would be. 

“Alec.”

John doesn’t ask another question, instead he’s up and grabbing one of their joint go-bags. 

“Okay, let’s go.” He says, about ten minutes later when he’s gathered everything, he thinks they’ll need. “If we want to crossover to New York as fast as possible, we’ll need to cut through the City of Bones.”

Lydia winces but nods, because to her — for both of them — the unpleasantness is worth it, if it means getting to Alec’s side when he needs it.

—

“You're getting an arranged marriage?” John asks again, shocked as he sits there and watches as Alec groans and curls further into Lydia’s lap.

He says something but it’s muffled by Lydia’s stomach, and she rolls her eyes, petting his hair slowly as she mouths ‘Maryse and Robert’ across to him.

John locks gazes with her and he knows, that whatever happens they'll not be letting Alec go through this.

Ever.

—

John watches as the warlock, Magnus Bane, sees Alec and immediately zeroes in. It’s as if the rest of the Institute doesn’t matter and while Alec is flustered, he’s not overwhelmed which means this has happened enough for him to get used to it.

“I do not like what I’m seeing.” Lydia mutters, glaring over at the troublesome group Alec’s trying to keep leashed. 

“Alec being appreciated?” John teases back, but she doesn’t laugh, and her gaze isn’t on Alec or his admirer.

“They don’t seem surprised or interested in the fact that Bane’s hunting him down. They seem to expect it and Alec’s only here because Jace said he needed to talk to him.”

The implications hit John like a demon horn in the gut.

“They wouldn’t.” He breathes out, quiet as he can as he stops watching Alec and Bane and focuses instead on the other three.

“They would.” Lydia hisses, angry and vicious, “and Alec wouldn’t even realize. Bane probably doesn’t even know either, the way he’s so wrapped up in Alec, I doubt he’s paying attention.”

“Fuck—” John mutters and he knows Lyds hates mundane swears, but she just nods, a short, clipped agreement. “Okay, so you grab Alec and I—”

“No, you grab Alec. I’ll grab Bane.” When John sends her a questioning look, she just shrugs her shoulders with a smirk.

It’s always less dangerous to not know what she’s planning and so John goes along with it. Alec is just as entranced as Bane is and John wonders if he’s going to be able to snap him out of it. However, Lyds has a plan and John is a dutiful, obedient husband “Alec, I need to steal you away for a second.”

John winks at Lydia, not noticing how Bane’s face shutters and goes cold, or how the gleam in his eyes flares when he follows John’s gaze to Lydia.

Instead, John focuses on his task, and he wraps an arm around Alec’s shoulder, pulling him along before he can protest. It only works because Alec is so tongue-tied in front of Bane and while John and Alec don’t agree on aesthetics, he can see the appeal.

Bane is clearly, very powerful and very dangerous.

It’s not a surprise that Alec would be attracted to him.

“What?” Alec asks, sharp and cold and probably irritated but trying to hide it.

“Lydia has something she needs to discuss with you and Bane, but we need to not be obvious about it.”

Alec looks over his shoulder, at where Lydia is approaching Bane and for a moment, John watches as Bane and Alec’s eyes lock. There’s a shiver of danger, an instinct of imminent threat that raises the hair on his neck when he tightens his grip and pulls Alec faster. 

—

Magnus is surprised that he’s not breathing actual flames with how furious he is. It’s taken time and patience and so much effort to get the little bit of 

And then, out of nowhere two nephilim show up, hoarding his boy to themselves and touching him like Magnus still isn’t allowed to. 

Magnus is reminding himself that he can’t smite visiting guests to Alexander’s Institute when he’s approached by the second one. She smiles, all political charm and bright enthusiasm, making small talk that Magnus isn’t in the mood for.

“Actually, I have some of my grandfather’s old notes. I’d love to show you.” 

It’s only because Magnus is looking for a reason to cut out her tongue that he picks up on her body language.  She’s not as relaxed as she’s pretending and she wants Magnus to follow her, desperately. It’s with fierce amusement that Magnus follows her, mentally hoping she dares to try and trap him.

It would be a lovely excuse to splatter her brain matter across the Institute walls.

Instead, he’s led to a private room and when he opens it, he stares, and he wonders if this was the torture she wanted to inflict on him.  

Alexander is sitting on the floor, back resting against a loveseat and another man’s fingers are running through his hair. Alexander makes a soft grunt and then lets his head flop further back, practically in the other nephilim lap.

“How little has he been sleeping?” The blonde shadowhunter asks, concern creasing her face and she ignores Magnus to shut the door and then she’s stepping out of her heels and crossing the room. She bends, pressing a casual kiss to Alexander’s forehead and then she’s leaning over him and kissing the man holding him.

Magnus wonders if he’s about to explode when there is a hoarse, “oh gross. Lyds, you’re not supposed to kiss this close to me. I can hear your tongues.”

There’s a snort, a bitten off laugh that turns into a cough and the blonde is covering her mouth with her hand. 

“Sorry Alec,” she murmurs, and she pats his head again.  This time, Magnus watches and pushes down the anger, seeing how Alec leans into it, like a cat seeking affection from its humans.

“Yeah buddy,” the male still holding Magnus’ boy says. “I forgot you were there.” 

“That doesn’t make it better—” Alexander grumbles and his eyes are still shut; he hasn’t noticed Magnus.  “Fuck, John why didn’t you convince Lydia to come train in New York?”

“Because John wanted to try cliff-diving for demons.” Lydia, as Magnus now bothers to remember mocks. “Now listen up, cherub-cheeks. You and Bane need to know something.”

At his name, Alexander startles, eyes wide and pink creeping over his cheeks.

“Alec—” John, Lydia’s husband, starts slowly. “You’re being taken advantage of.” Magnus hisses insulted and starts to draw himself up when he’s sent a panicked glance. “Not you, you’re not the one! Actually, they might also be taking advantage of you.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Alexander asks, confused and concerned, “how?” 

“Have you noticed a lack of receipts for Bane’s service? For all of Fray's requests and services?” 

“They said they had it taken care of. That Magnus accepted the payment.”

“I accepted a necklace, as a onetime payment.” Magnus interjects, not wanting to be spoken for when he’s in the room, especially by people who aren't even in the room. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Then why are you helping so much? Sorry, I mean. I’m glad you’re, fuck—”

“He means, why are you helping without payment. You’re the High Warlock of Brooklyn, you should be overcharging, not working pro-bono.”

Magnus blinks, then raises an eyebrow because while she’s not wrong, she’s also clearly missing the point.

“I wanted to see Alexander.”

There’s silence and then Alexander is blushing and turning into Lydia’s husbands’ knee, but Magnus is amused by it this time, rather than furious. Even if he is confused as to why Alexander is acting like this is new. 

“Which is up to you. Except where his siblings and Fray lied to him about it. They’ve been using him to get you to practically run errands for them and while I don’t care how you conduct your own affairs, it’s pretty ripe with insubordination. Especially, when he was unaware.”

“Are you suggesting,” Magnus bites out. “That everyone but Alexander was aware of why I’ve been so generous with my time and talents?”

There’s a soft groan and finally, his boy is looking at him with serious, hazel eyes. 

“You would have seen me regardless of if you were paid, Magnus. I didnt—” Alexander shrugs and his lashes flutter as his gaze lowers. “It never occurred to me that was why we always saw each other,” and he shrugs. 

Lydia and her husband match gaze over Alexander’s head, something fierce and protective between them. A reason for why they are so careful of Alexander, why they want to keep him safe.

“Well, perhaps I can take Alexander out for lunch without interruptions, for once.” Magnus gives Lydia a droll look, knowing she’ll understand immediately. 

“Oh, we can definitely make sure there aren’t any more interruptions.” Blue eyes glint dangerously, “I am a liaison of the clave. I’m sure Clarissa Fairchild’s evaluations will take several hours, probably even all day.”

Magnus holds out a hand and Alexander takes it, a confidence to the gesture that makes Magnus’ breath catch. He summons a portal, ignoring that he’s in the middle of the Institute and he smirks at the surprise in Lydia and her husband’s eyes.

“I’ll have him back before the demon strikes.” Magnus taunts, because he’s been more than polite, and it’s been a very trying day. Next to him, Alexander snorts and when he looks over, there’s a soft smile being sent his way.

If this is how Alexander is when he’s not being bothered by his siblings and Clarissa, then Magnus suddenly has a reason to deal with them.