#only simon is the cat pretending to be aloof and not care (while actually caring)

[theceaselessidiot]

underrated friendship duo, that would have been so cool to explore in the show but alas: Cressida and Simon. They actually have a lot in common:

1. They both had shitty, cold childhoods with a father who made them feel like they're disappointments. Simon had Lady Danbury and that is why he's warmer than Cressida, who only had her mother who is also toxic like her father, but they both know what parental neglect feels like

2. They both kept people at a distance, Simon by being a rake and also aloof, Cressida by being mean and cruel.

3. They both become obsessed with someone challenges them, but is also warm, Eloise and Daphne (ignoring the rapey stuff with Daphne)

4. edit bc @saintdollyparton made an excellent point: They're also both hot and tall and in love with a Bridgerton sister.

I would have loved to see them interact and actually be like 'oh we're similar, lets be friends" and Daphne and Eloise are both like "wtf??" but then they're like "ah you got adopted by this cat proceed"

[reivenesque]

Fic: Safewords (Shadowhunters/Malec)

Title: Safewords. Word Count: 3808 Words. Summary: There are abs on his screen, sweaty glistening, toned abs. So toned it’s almost an 8-pack instead of a 6-pack. Slick with sweat and almost shimmering under the vintage lighting of Magnus’ loft, staring back up at him like it’s a piece of juicy meat and he’s the hungriest predator in the vicinity.

Tags: Humor/Romance. Magnus/Alec. Alec and Lydia Brotp. Lightwood Family Feels. .

[ao3]

After twenty plus years of suffering through hours of repetitive, boring official meetings filled with monotone ramblings and a lot of dead air, Alec has perfected both the art of detached interest and incognito texting. Although through the years the incognito part of the texting has become more and more difficult to successfully pull off. He isn’t like Izzy and Max whose fingers fly through the touch screen keypads like people with far too much experience for their years, or Jace whose fingers fly through the keypads just the same but with far less accuracy and far less concern over the spelling or grammar. Alec thinks he’s become far too fluent in Jace-text-speak than is normal. Unlike his siblings though, when he doesn’t have a bow in his grasp the fingers of his hands spontaneously turn into all-thumbs. He misses the days when phones had actual buttons.

His first phone was a Nokia 3315 and he’s convinced it’s secretly a magical artefact not unlike his own bow. He was once stupidly caught cornered by a couple of demons in an alleyway by himself, his weapons knocked clean out of reach and the only thing he had on his person was the phone. It was a spur of the moment decision to throw it at the demon closest to him and somehow that distracted them long enough for Alec to make an all or nothing leap for his bow. Unfortunately the phone did not come out of that battle unscathed. It was ruined, but even before it expired it managed to accept one last call from Jace asking Alec where he was.

Alec still keeps the remnants of that phone in a special commemorative box in a drawer at his desk.

What was his mom saying again? He decides to do a mental check-in.

“—once again I am left sorely disappointed at the incompetence—”

Well nothing new to report there.

At least his mom has stopped referring to Magnus as the abomination. She’s gone past the actively trying to talk him out of it stage into the silently seething stage which is truthfully a breath of fresh air. Nowadays she actively tries to not talk about him or acknowledge that he exists at all unless it’s inevitable that their paths cross or she absolutely has to refer to him for one reason or another, only then does she actually call Magnus ‘him’with accompanying spittle containing at least 17 percent venom.

He really thinks that Magnus is starting to grow on her.

“Do you have anything to add, Alec?”

Yes. The Clave is stupid. Their rules are stupid. This whole meeting is stupid. What was it about again? He can’t even remember. He wishes he was at home tucked into bed with Magnus as the little spoon under a heap of blankets on Magnus’ golden Egyptian cotton sheets because it really was made for the Pharaohs.

“No, mother. You’re absolutely right.”

He thinks it’s the right answer because she doesn’t glare at him and subsequently moves on to another subject. Anything that doesn’t dispute her indubitable rightness is never the wrong thing to say.

He feels the vibration of an incoming text from the left side pocket of his jeans and with the skills befitting a synchronized swimmer and the grace of above water goose, he manages to slide the cell phone out of his all of a sudden far too tight pants while keeping his visible self absolutely aloof and at-attention. He’s so slick even Izzy and Jace who are sitting on either side of his position at the foot of the table, directly in his mother’s line of sight don’t notice a thing. Lydia and his father are in mirror positions at the opposite end of the table. Alec’s pretty sure the only one who actually wants to be at this meeting is his mother. His dad looks like he’s pining for the company of his pillow. Jace is outright yawning and Izzy looks impeccably dishevelled as only Izzy can look. Even Lydia’s looking around at all the disgruntled faces in the room like she’s having the exact same train of thought as Alec. When their eyes meet from across the length of the table, the silent acknowledgement that this meeting is utter bullshit goes absolutely without saying.    

How’s your meeting, my dear? The text is surprisingly unsurprising from Magnus. Surprising considering that it’s barely 8 A.M. and Magnus doesn’t usually leave the company of his bed until at least 9.30, unless Alec stays in late, then sometimes they don’t leave the bed at all. Unsurprising since it is Magnus and Alec had dragged away the blanket before he left because if he couldn’t be curled up nice and comfily in bed then Magnus wasn’t allowed to either.

Kill me now. Or at least magic some coffee into my stomach and patience into my soul. It takes him far too long to type out that message after having to backspace multiple times because his thumb keeps on hitting the S instead of the A and he M instead of the N. He hates touch screen keypads so much.

That enjoyable huh? Alec can almost see the feline grin on Magnus’ face and he kind of wants to punch that expression right off his being, and then kiss him right on his stupid face. What was his mother saying again?

“—ashamed!”

I regret all tge choices I’ve made in life tgat has leaf me up to tgis point.He doesn’t even care about spelling anymore. Spelling doesn’t even matter when he’s likely to get nettled to death by his mother’s silent disapproval and vocalised shame.

You wound me Alexander. Followed by a series of sad and teary eyed emojis.

You know what I mean. He’s lying, he still cares about grammar and spelling, he isn’t an uneducated mundane.

No, I don’t think I do.Followed by a couple of streaming tears emoji.

I LOVE YOU STUPID.

Yes, I think I may have a vague idea now.Magnus continues his abuse of emojis.

“Am I boring you, Alec?”

Yes.

“No, mother, I’m seriously reflecting on my past actions.”

“Good.”

He feels Izzy’s grin before he turns to look at her, just in time to catch her mouthing, ‘ass kisser’ at him.

He whispers back when his mother has her back turned to them. “Not the ass I want to be kissing.”

“By the angel!” Jace exclaims from his left side, his tone one of horror and attracting all the attention to him.

“Yes, Jace? Is something wrong?” Maryse asks concerned. Looking intently at Jace and not noticing both Alec and Izzy almost sputtering trying to contain their laugh.

“Wha—N—No, Maryse. What I mean is…uh, by the Angel, only now…uh, I…only now I realise what trouble Clary and I have caused you and Alec and the Clave and we’re…uh, really sorry.”

His explanation is so unconvincing even Maryse looks sceptical at her Golden Boy Jace.

Need safe-word for when I need you to come rescue me from boring meetings.

How about ‘canoodle’?Alec tries hard not to physically roll his eyes.

How about ‘medium rare’?

…you’re never going to let me live that down are you?

Depends.

On what? It’s the first time Alec’s got Magnus in the text version of being speechless.

The level of canoodling.

How about this?Magnus texts back and Alec has to wait a few seconds until whatever it is Magnus is sending him comes though.

He looks away from the phone for a split second while waiting for the text to come in, determining that his mother has moved on from Jace’s half-ass explanation with barely a suspicious glint. Izzy keeps on glancing at him with a teasing look that he does his best to ignore. Jace has not made eye contact with him or anyone at the table for the last 7 minutes which counts as almost a record. If Alec wasn’t Alec and Jace wasn’t Jace, he’d think that his parabatai was even blushing.

His phone vibrates in his hand, signalling that whatever Magnus has deign to send him has finally come in. It’s a picture file that he opens without a second thought.

He lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a strangled choking sound and someone stepping on a cat; both the person and the cat, attracting all the attention to him. He tries to cough to cover up his shame but it’s too late.

“Yes, Alec. What is it now?”

He tries not to choke on the oxygen he’s inhaling. “N-Nothing, mother. I just swallowed a fly.”

“There are no flies in the institute,” Izzy says unhelpfully. Alec glares at her.

“Only ones named Simon,” adds Jace, equally unhelpfully. Alec wonders if it’s too late to put in a request for a new sister and a new parabatai.

Lydia shoots him a questioning look and he tries to telepathically beg her for help. “I have been getting complaints about bug infestations in the Institute. I think it has something to do with the crypt in the basement.”

Alec wants to buy Lydia shots, and lots of it. Maybe even a mundane house in the suburbs.

His mother lets out an ever suffering sigh but decides not to continue her line of questioning.

And the meeting once again resumes. At this point Alec doesn’t know head nor tails or what’s going on or what his mother is even talking about and he isn’t even pretending to. He dares a glance at the picture again.

There are abs on his screen, sweaty glistening, toned abs. So toned it’s almost an 8-pack instead of a 6-pack. Slick with sweat and almost shimmering under the vintage lighting of Magnus’ loft, staring back up at him like it’s a piece of juicy meat and he’s the hungriest predator in the vicinity. Medium rare indeed.

I didn’t mean actually kill me. I’ve grown pretty fond of being alive thanks so much.

Are you impressed, my dear?Alec can almost hear the smugness in his tone.

No. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. What the hell are you doing anyway? Please tell me you’re not doing one of those fake candid selfies of yourself.

I love you Alexander and I love everything you love, but I truly am going to throw out 10 Things I Hate About You if you don’t stop quoting it every other conversation. And to answer your questions. 1. I’m working out, if you must know. You think his dazzling physique maintains itself my love? And 2. No I am not doing one of those fake candid selfies, don’t worry your pretty little head off. A selfie is just a selfie.

At this point Alec has given up trying to look even remotely interested in what his mother is saying.

Like the way that hell is just a sauna?

Magnus texts back some devil horn emojis but with no text. After a few seconds, another text with an attached picture comes in. Alec is almost too afraid to look.

But not afraid enough.

His heart starts palpitating. His palms become clammy. He forgets how to swallow or breathe. His boyfriend truly is the devil.

There are biceps on his screen. Rippled, muscular biceps gleaming with still dripping sweat. Slightly veiny yet toned and taut and shining like a sexy beacon calling Alec towards the deadly rocks and his almost certain doom.

All of a sudden he doesn’t feel too well. His head feels light and his heart is thundering in his chest.

“Alec, are you okay?” He hears Izzy ask through the muddled haze that used to be his somewhat competent mind and constitution. He thinks this must be what the sailors in Greek mythology felt like when they heard the songs of the Siren.

Unwanted attention turns to him once again.

“Alec?” he hears his mother and the concern in her voice is unnerving.

“Sorry. I-I just…I just felt a little light headed for a minute,” he says, trying to cover up the four shades of pink his face has probably adopted. Both Jace and Izzy look at him in concern. But Lydia has a knowing look on his face that he neither likes nor appreciates. Alec thinks at some point his father actually fell asleep with his eyes open because he isn’t reacting to anything at all. He’s just sitting there silent, arm crossed over his chest and eyes wide open. Like, eerily wide.

“I think this would be the best place to end this absolutely enlightening and engaging meeting, don’t you, Maryse?” The emphasis on the two words make it apparent that Lydia is neither enlightened nor engaged. “Everyone’s been running ragged these past couple of days trying to deal with the influx of demon activity. I think they deserve the day off. Unless there’s some pressing matter at hand, of course.”

Maryse glowers at Lydia, but doesn’t refute her words. “Of course.”

“Well that’s that then,” Lydia says, getting to her feet. Alec doesn’t like the look she keeps sending his way because it’s the same look Izzy has on when she thinks she’s discovered some huge secret of his. He especially hates it now because Izzy is looking at him with the same exact expression and the same lopsided grin. He doesn’t appreciate the look Izzy and Lydia are exchanging with each other either. He wishes there was a way to go back to the time when everyone hated and didn’t trust Lydia at all. But then again, she did just give him the day off.

He almost leaps to his feet, startling Jace out of his happy place where he isn’t envisioning his beloved parabatai kissing anyone’s ass on loop and all is right in the world. Jace still can’t look him in the eye without seeing Magnus’s ass in the very next frame. He wants Clary to hug him and pat him on the head and kiss the nightmares away.

Alec is startled when Jace suddenly jumps up and even faster than regular Nephilim speed, disappears out the door and down the corridor like he has a hoard of Drevak demons on his ass.

No one knows how to react.

“Well. I think I’m going to go lie down,” Alec says after a while and begins his retreat. If he’s fast enough, he can get out of there before Lydia or Izzy can make—

“Try not to overexert yourself while doing all that laying down,” Izzy says.

“Being able to lay down in bed is such a magical activity,” Lydia says.

Alec feels betrayed by them both.

“Oh by the angel!” Maryse exclaims, her face in her hand. She points one manicured finger out the door and turns to her son.  “Alec, go do what you need to do. I don’t want to know about it, I don’t want to hear the insinuation of it. Next time we have a meeting we’re leaving the phones at the door. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Alec can’t get out of there fast enough. He whips out his phone and frantically types out, MEDIUM RARE MEDIUM RARE MEDIURM RAR MEDIUM RARW MWDIUM TARW CANOODLING CACCNOOLDING MEDIUMRAARW.

He slams open the door of his room just in time to see a purple portal open up at the far end wall beside his closet. He doesn’t speed up his gait at all. Nope, not at all.

He exits on the other side to the welcoming atmosphere of Magnus’ eclectic loft and the sight of Magnus in an absolutely offensive sleeveless grey hoodie. And he’s actually doing reps with a dumbbell on a bench that he’d probably magicked out from nowhere in particular. Actually it looks suspiciously like the workout bench in Jace’s room. How dare he? He upped the ante of the candid selfie of himself. This is an accidentally on purpose intentional work-out walk-in. How very Magnus. And how dare he?

“Alexander,” Magnus says, looking up with a wide smile as if he’s at all surprised to see Alec standing there looking all flushed and absolutely scandalised. This just won’t do.

Alec struts towards Magnus with a purpose in his gait and mission in his heart. At this point Magnus has dropped this entire farce of a workout and put down the dumbbell.

Sweat is trickling down the center of his glistening heaving chest, between his tanned, perfectly sculpted pecs peeking out over the precariously zipped up hoodie. Alec hates that hoodie. Since when did Magnus actually own hoodies? They seem far too innocuous and plain for his taste. But maybe that was his plan all along. Either way, Alec hates that hoodie and he needs it to come off, right now.

He grabs his shocked boyfriend by the undone lapels and in one swift move, rips it open. This time it’s Magnus’ turn to look absolutely flustered in shock and unconcealed glee. He can’t even concentrate enough to keep up his glamour. His cats’ eyes watch Alec like a predator, but in that moment no one can really tell which one of them is the predator and which one is the prey.

One obstacle out of the way for Alec when he finally gets the offending article of clothing off his boyfriend’s exquisite person and lets it fall to the floor in a heap. He feels Magnus’ hand fiddling with the buttons of his own shirt before he reaches into his pants and pulls out his stele, dropping it to the floor without care.

Magnus has a look on his face that’s half experienced 400 year old warlock and half 7 year old child in a toy store that’s made entirely out of candy. Alec likes this side of him. He likes it even more when he backs Magnus up against couch, the back of his knees hitting the footrest and stopping them both in their tracks. Alec spares a glance down Magnus’ now shirtless torso and the way his sweaty shoulders and chest are almost luminous under the warm light and the glowing crescent moon hanging in the night sky. The taut, lean muscles of his biceps and his well-defined abs usually hidden under layers of expensive fabric and precious jewels.

For the first time since they met, Alec actually realises that this is his. Magnus is all his. He doesn’t have time to contemplate the meaning of it all before he feels himself subconsciously grasping Magnus by the side of his face and plating a kiss on his lustrous, glitter gloss covered lips. The kiss lasts a good minute before Alec pulls back and shoves Magnus back onto couch when he lands an unceremonious, scandalised yet tantalised heap. His sparkling cat eyes never once looking away or even blinking. He hasn’t said anything the whole time but his gaze speaks volumes in surround sound.

Alec’s not exactly sure what he’s doing or where he’s going with this, it almost like his body is moving of its own accord regardless of how ridiculous his brain is telling him he probably looks right now. All of a sudden he feels all of his 20 plus years of virginity greeting him like that one annoying jokester in class everyone only pretends to like but then rolls their eyes at when he’s done walking away.

What is he doing?

Taking off his shirt evidently, a completely vulgar and unsanctioned act and he’s pretty sure he didn’t verbally permit his body to do such a thing. But he’s unbuttoning the last few buttons on his unsurprisingly monotonous long sleeve black shirt and Magnus is looking at him like the sexiest awkward virgin in all the land. Magnus’ gaze is more inspiring than Shia Labeouf entire 30 minute motivational spiel. Alec only knows about that because Jace watches the video on repeat to psych himself up before a mission. But why is he thinking about Shia Labeouf and Jace when Magnus is shirtless and dishevelled and sprawled out right there?

He whips his shirt off his back and to the side, this time watching as Magnus’ glittering eyes rake hungrily across his own body.

Alec takes a deep breath, all while his brain is still yelling at him about what a bad idea this is. Monumentally bad. Walk of shame back to the institute bad. Even worse than when he and Magnus only had drinks because Izzy and Lydia will know. His mother knows. Oh god, Alec cannot get over what a bad idea this is and starts contemplating how he managed to get himself into such an awkward situation. He was having a really good day too. And he still owes Lydia some shots and a nice beige house in the heart of suburbia.

Magnus on the other hand doesn’t seem to share Alec’s insecurity and embarrassment as he reaches over before Alec can react and grabs onto the buckle of Alec’s belt, dragging him back onto the couch where they land a sandwiched heap.

“Nice of you to join me, my love. It was getting very lonely and very cold on his sofa by myself.”

Alec can’t seem to find the words, or even remember how to form actual words. “Medium rare,” he says instead.

Magnus smiles, one of those small but genuine ones where his eyes sparkle like they’re reflecting the stars in the solar system all at once. “Have I ever told you that you’re the most adorable person I’ve ever met in my 400 years of life?”

Alec would have been even more touched by Magnus’ words if he wasn’t feeling so awkwardly long on the couch, draped over Magnus in a rather uncomfortable position, propping himself up by the elbows on either side of Magnus’ head and his legs hanging uselessly over the edge. “I’m sure you say that to all the boys.”

“No, I don’t,” Magnus replies simply, his expression still easy going and playful but the glint on his eyes hardened and serious. “I love only you, Alexander Lightwood.”

Alec answers Magnus’ heartfelt confession with his lips. He feels Magnus’s hands fiddling with the buckle of his belt, but this time it’s Magnus who suddenly pulls away. He locks eyes with Alec, his face and entire body language serious yet understanding and comforting. “Only if you really want to,” he says, looking deep into Alec’s eyes.

And for the first time today Alec’s mind is clear and unwavering and he thinks, yes, he does. “I really do, Magnus. Only with you.”

Magnus smiles and it’s the most gorgeous sight Alec has had the pleasure to behold.

In the meeting room back at the Institute, Robert Lightwood with his eyes still open, his arms still crossed and his posture still rigid, sleeps on without a care.