#something something he takes a knife to someone's face to save jace. it leads to his death. jace still dies

[lcerys]

WHAT TRAGIC CHARACTER FROM ANCIENT GREEK LITERATURE ARE YOU ?

patroclus. you are patroclus, from the iliad by homer, doomed by fate to be stuck in a love story that has no place on the battlefield. although you always have the best intentions, you have to realize you cannot save everyone. your unwavering loyalty means you often lose yourself in the process of putting others first. take a deep breath, remember who you are, and that you are deserving of the same love you try to put out. you are kind, you are strong, and you give and you give but it is never enough to protect those you love. in the end, it's not even enough to protect yourself.

tagged by : @halfyearsqueen

tagging: feel free to steal it from me < 3

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, starsdahb!

For @starsdahb. Tara! I hope you like this!!

Read On AO3

*****

About Late Nights

“Archer boy, get me a glass of O+,” Lily calls out from where she’s sitting on the couch, tilting her head back to look at Alec.

Alec rolls his eyes. “Get it yourself, Lily.”

Lily gasps dramatically, and quite theatrically turns her whole body to stare at the other vampire.  “I can’t believe you’re disobeying your sire like this. The utter disrespect. I am--” Something hits Alec and he straightens up, it’s very faint, but Lily is his sire so she still has a little control over him.

His bond with Lily isn’t like the usual, she never really had strong control over Alec’s mind, it has always been weak - and the only reasonable explanation Alec has for that is the fact that he used to have angel blood in his veins. Also, they’ve never had anything even remotely sexual, but that’s easily justified because of the latent homosexuality in him.

Lily, though, never really tries to use - or tried to use their bond. The bond’s thin and almost gone over the course of the last seven months but it’s still there, so sometimes, Alec feels compelled to do Lily’s chores.

“We ran out,” Alec tells her. “I’m going to get more with Magnus”

“Oh,” Lily smirks, “Blood stealing date night with Magnus, huh?”

“I-It’s,” Alec has to clear his throat, if he was still a shadowhunter, he was sure he would’ve been blushing. “It’s not a date.”

Lily waves a dismissive hand around. “Shoo, go out with your man, and sneak me an extra stash.”

Alec shakes his head, though a smile lingers on his face. She sometimes reminds him of his sister.

Correction, reminded him of his sister.

Alec still has to tell himself - that this is the only family that he has, the Vamp nest. His real family left him behind anyways.

The night’s dark as he walks out of Hotel Dumort. There are a few mundanes lurking around and Alec is hungry, but he has good control over himself and he’s not a monster. So he stuffs his hands in his jacket and walks towards the hospital, the nearest one from where his nest usually gets their blood from.

They don’t hunt on mundanes, not unless they are the lowest of humans - abusers, murderers and such. Alec’s nest has adapted to live on blood bags - collected from hospitals all over New York - or animal’s blood. But not mundanes. Never innocent mundanes. It’s the only one rule. If a vampire disobeys, they are thrown out and sent to be dealt with by the Clave themselves. Magnus doesn’t tolerate rogue vampires, or the ones that who ignore this one and only rule of his.

Alec takes the alleyway that’ll lead him directly to the back entrance of the hospital, where Magnus is probably waiting for him. Usually, he avoids the alley, but he’s trying to face his fears. If he’s going to be immortal - he’d rather be fearless. Well, i t’s not… fear, exactly, it’s more bad memories.

As he walks through the alley, eyes fixed on the ground, he can almost hear the yells, the fighting.

“The Clave is lying to you, shadowhunter, we don’t feed on mundanes.”

“Why would the Clave lie to me?”

“The Clave just wants us all dead, all the downworlders - vampires, warlocks, even seelies. They want to rule the shadow world.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alec doesn’t blame Lily for attacking him. He used to, but not now, not really. He was the one who had his blade pressed against their leader’s throat, Alec was so driven to follow the Clave’s orders that he was ready to kill Magnus.

Of course Lily had risked herself in front of all those shadowhunters to save Magnus. Magnus, who took her in when she was just a fledgling and gave her shelter for all these years. Magnus, who had done that for his whole nest and even more, for Alec.

Alec stops in his tracks. He can almost feel his limp body thudding to the ground, all those months ago. He can hear faint sounds of footsteps, his other teammates running away, leaving him there.

They never came back for Alec, not even Izzy or Jace. The Clave told them that Alec was rogue, unworthy. And they all, his own family, believed them.

And then there was Magnus, who took Alec in and helped him survive through his transition, even after Alec had almost killed him and all his children.

No matter how reluctant Alec was at first, no matter how many times he tried to escape, no matter how much Raphael hated him. The nest was there with him to help him through the different stages of his transition. Alec didn’t really realize the exact moment when they became his family.

“Hello, Alexander.”

“You didn’t follow me, again”

“Because I knew you’d come back…”

“Magnus,” A shuddered breath. “My family, they don’t trust me-- I- I don’t have a family anymore.”

“You do have a family, Alec, right here.”

He shuts his eyes, wraps his arms around his chest and uses his vamp speed to just run through the alley.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Alexander?” Magnus asks, looking at Alec with concerned eyes.

Alec runs his hand through his hair, rolling back his shoulders. “Yeah,” he says. “I just-- I took the alley.”

He sees Magnus’ eyes staring at him, before a small smile spreads on his face. “Okay, then,” the vamp leader says. “And how did that go?”

Alec just shrugs, and Magnus doesn’t push further, knowing that it’s hard for Alec to talk about it. He still isn’t over everything that has happened, and Magnus gets that.

“How long till Cat comes?” Alec asks, trying to change the topic.

That's how it usually goes, they wait for Cat, Magnus’ old warlock friend, at the secluded back door of the hospital and she brings them the blood bags.

“About that... There’s a small complication today,” Magnus says. “Catarina isn’t here.”

Alec frowns. “Okay?” So they’ll have to wait for another day? Everyone in the nest is quite thirsty, Alec included, and because they couldn’t get enough blood bags last month-- they don’t even have enough stash to last through tonight.

Magnus hums. “So... we’ll have to do a little preten--” suddenly, Magnus is pushing Alec back against a wall.

“Magnus--”

Magnus shushes Alec as he crowds him, hands gripping his waist, thigh between Alec’s legs and his face hovering above Alec’s, lips almost brushing. They’re so close that his eyelashes brush against Alec’s face, they’re almost sharing a breath. Alec’s lips are parted as Magnus looks into his eyes, pupils dilated.

Then, there’s a sound of the backdoor opening and two men, still in their scrubs, walk out of there.

Magnus presses closer to Alec when the men throw a glance in their direction. From their perspective, the vampires probably look like they’re just making out. Well, otherwise it would’ve been suspicious for them to be in this alley, at this hour of the night.

On the other hand, Alec isn’t able to take his eyes off Magnus, who’s looking at him with the same desire, the want, hand gripping Alec’s waist tighter and Alec’s own hands wandering around Magnus’ hips.

It doesn’t last long. The doctors, probably uncaring, just walk out of there, ignoring the two other men. But Magnus doesn’t step back, he just stares into Alec’s hazel eyes.

“As I was saying-- we’ll have to do a little pretending. ”

“R--” Alec clears his throat, feeling choked. “Right.”

Magnus brings one of his hands from Alec’s waist up to his shoulder, then trails his fingers down Alec’s arm in a way that makes Alec shiver. Before Magnus curls his digits around Alec’s wrist and raises his hand, Alec’s jacket sleeve sliding down and exposing his bare forearm.

“I’m going to bite you now.” Magnus tells him. “Just a tear.”

Alec’s pretty sure he has lost his ability to speak. He doesn’t understand why Magnus wants to do that. But he trusts Magnus.

Vampires biting each other is considered carnal, a little voice in the back of his head recites as he just gives Magnus a stuttered nod, and Magnus smirks. It feels as if Magnus is staring straight into his soul.

Alec almost gasps when he sees his fangs drop.

Magnus maintains eye contact as he brings Alec’s arm up to his lips. He gives his bare forearm a gentle kiss, which makes Alec’s breath come out in a short burst of air. Then, Magnus dips one of his fangs in, piercing Alec’s skin. Alec hisses when Magnus’ fang creates a tear in his skin, blood seeping out. Though it doesn’t hurt much, given that his tolerance of pain has increased a lot ever since he became a vampire. The pain is just enough to give the masochist in him a go.

“Fuck,” Alec bites his bottom lip, trying not to moan. And Magnus watches him with a smirk.

Then, Magnus is pulling back with a flourish, and Alec instantly misses the touch. He runs a hand through his perfect hair and messes them up, smudging his makeup a little along with it. Holding Alec’s arm out with his other hand, from which blood drips out.

Magnus gives Alec a look, reaches out to mess with Alec’s hair a little too. Before he raises Alec’s now bloody arm once more, to press a kiss against Alec’s wrist, right above the wound. Alec shivers.

“Come on, and agree with whatever I say.”

Inside the hospital, they create a whole fiasco of Alec and Magnus being on a date when someone with a knife tried to mug them, and ended up slicing Alec’s forearm when Alec tried to stop him. Resulting in them being led to the ER because Alec needs ‘urgent’ stitches. Apparently, Magnus is a great actor and there's another girl right about Alec’s age who’s supporting Magnus’ bullshit.

The girl pulls them in an empty room and locks the door behind them. She’s dark-skinned, has curly black hair and a scarf around her neck. She’s fairly pretty, and she looks at Magnus as if she knows him and is done with him.

“Madzie,” Magnus grins, leaving Alec’s arm and going to hug the girl.

“Magnus,” Madzie replies, shaking her head and returning Magnus’ hug. “Stitches? Seriously?”

“It was a good excuse--” Magnus says, pulling back. “Alexander, this is Madzie, Catarina’s daughter.”

Alec gives Madzie an awkward smile. “It’s just Alec.”

“Mhm,” Madzie reaches her hand out and gestures to Alec to give her his wounded arm. “So you’re the famous shadowhunter-turned-vampire.”

Alec glances at Magnus, who just nods, before giving her his arm. “I am.”

“I sure have heard a lot about you,” Madzie remarks.

Alec doesn't know what to say to that, he has been the talk of the New York shadow world for a while, and if anything, it’s awkward for him. So he stays silent as Madzie quietly heals his arm, letting it go a few minutes later.

“Alright, the blood bags are in there.” She eyes a fridge behind Magnus. “You can jump out from there--” she then nods towards an open window in the room.

Magnus hums, smiling at the girl. “Thanks, sweet pea.” he says as he reaches out and opens the fridge, stuffing the blood bags in a backpack kept right beside it.

Madzie rolls her eyes. “You need to stop calling me that.”

“Sure, sweet pea,” Magnus grins, before throwing the backpack over his shoulder, standing in front of the open window and turning to Alec. “You wanna go first, darling?”

“Darling, huh?” Madzie smirks, crossing her arms above her chest. “Got the shadowhunter whipped for you already?”

Magnus just waves a lazy hand around while Alec ducks his head, trying to hide his smile, as he walks over to the window.

They’re 8 feet above the ground, not much, really. Alec sits on the window sill and looks down at his dangling feet. Before he pushes forward and jumps, landing on his legs with a small thud his knees bending and taking all the pressure.

“Alexander, take this,” he hears Magnus call above him, before he throws the backpack down and Alec catches it easily.

Magnus turns back and blows a kiss at Madzie before he jumps down, landing gracefully, like a cat.

“Well,” Magnus says, brushing his palms. “That went well.”

“Yeah,” Alec replies, throwing the back pack above his shoulders.

“Hey,” Magnus says, walking in the room to find Alec arranging all the blood bags in the deep freezer.

“Hey,” Alec replies. “Do they need more?”

“No, no all of them have two bags each.”

Magnus and he just got back 30 minutes ago, the walk back to the hotel was pretty quiet. And now, while Magnus distributed the blood bags among the vamps, Alec decided to arrange the ones left in the freezer.

“Oh,” Alec says, reaching down to get two blood bags from the freezer. “Do you want one?”

Magnus nods, and Alec tosses the blood bag in his direction, closes the freezer shut and leaning against it to sip his own B+. His jacket is long discarded, sleeves of his shirt rolled up till his elbows. His hair’s still messed up, sticking out in all directions and his hazel eyes watching Magnus.

Magnus’ gaze catches Alec’s as he takes a sip out of his own blood bag. He absorbs the metallic taste, the euphoria that takes over his senses. Then, Alec looks at Magnus with parted lips, watches Magnus’ adam's apple move, his blood bag lowered.

Alec’s body silently calls for Magnus to be close to him. The tension from a few hours ago rising back up in the air.

There’s a drop of red on Alec’s lips, and Magnus' eyes fall on it as he takes a step forward. Alec shifts a little, standing up straight and itching closer to Magnus.

“You have a little something there--” Magnus leans in closer, darting his tongue out and licking away the blood with its tip.

Alec gasps when Magnus’ tongue touches his skin, his body shudders, their eyes still interlocked.

“Magnus--”

It’s just a whisper as Magnus pulls away, but something in Alec surges. They’re so close, and Alec can’t take it anymore. His mind is swimming in the euphoric taste of the blood and Magnus is right in front of him.

Alec wants this.

The blood bag drops down onto the floor with a small thud when Alec brings his hand up and grabs Magnus’ bicep, pulling him in and catching his lips with his own. He feels the slight shock in Magnus’ body, but then Magnus is reciprocating with the same desire.

Magnus’ trails his fingers up along Alec’s side and cups his neck, pulling him in closer, chests touching, bodies sliding against each other. Before Alec pushes Magnus back against a wall, trapping him there, almost gasping when he feels Magnus’ tongue touch his.

And just as Alec starts to nip at his jawline, Magnus clutches him and turns them around, so now Alec’s the one being trapped between him and the wall. He stares into the hazel eyes, they’re blown with lust. Alec’s slightly panting, looking at Magnus with that same-old puppy-like expression on his face.

“Magnus,” it comes out as a whine when Magnus slides his thigh between Alec’s. “Please.”

Magnus leans in, lips against Alec’s ear. “I adore you, Alexander.”

This time, Alec gasps, and Magnus feels the younger man growing hard against his thigh.

“I--” a gulp.

Magnus smirks against Alec’s cheekbone, before starting to nip at his jawline, earning more gasps from the vampire before him, his fists clenching Magnus’ shirt.

“I’ve wanted to do this,” Magnus says against the side of Alec’s neck, where the remnants of Alec’s deflect rune reside, just a faint-faded outline of it. “Since the moment I saw you,” A moan is drawn out from Alec’s mouth when Magnus bites, not too hard, and then laps his tongue along it, soothing it.

“Fuck, Magnus”

Alec grinds against Magnus’ thigh, asking for friction, Magnus’ hands sliding all over his body, Magnus’ mouth over his collarbone, driving him crazy.

Magnus drives him crazy.

He groans when Magnus mouths his clothed nipple and cups him through his pants. Alec arches his back off the wall, he can feel that Magnus is just as hard as him. He feels weak in his knees, his vamp hearing giving voice to even the smallest of the muffled noises that Magnus makes. Alec has almost forgotten about the fact that they’re still in the basement and anyone can walk in on them at any time-- which also contributes to the fact that Magnus is hurrying up his movements. They’ll have time to take it slow later.

The room is filled with the sounds of moans and groans, Alec’s sure the rest of the nest members just a floor above their heads can hear them too. Vamp hearing. But at this point, Alec doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Magnus presses open mouthed kisses against his torso as he falls down on his knees.

Alec shuts his eyes, his head rolling back against the wall, feeling Magnus mouth press against his clothed cock, hands on the button of his pants, popping it open. Magnus mouths his already hard length and Alec is already so close.

“Look at me,” It’s a whisper, before Magnus opens Alec’s zipper with his teeth. And Alec does, almost feeling himself spilling over when his gaze interlocks with Magnus’. Alec watches that smirk on Magnus’ face before he is dipping his fingers down in the waistband of Alec’s boxers.

Alec maintains eye contact as Magnus moves, his mouth on him. The younger man is really trying to muffle the sounds that are ripped out of his throat but he can’t help it, looking at Magnus’ lips around him is very much a turn on.  Magnus’ beautiful brown eyes are blown and shining, his perfect hands stroking Alec and his soft lips at the head of Alec’s cock. Alec bites his bottom lip, almost feels his fangs drop out as Magnus takes him in. He looks so beautiful, like that.

“You’re gorgeous,” Alec breaths out even before he realizes it, it’s quickly followed by a moan when Magnus smiles around him and hums in reply, the vibrations doing things for Alec. “God, Magnus”

Magnus takes one of Alec’s hands in his and leads it to his hair. Alec lets him, and cards his fingers through Magnus’ smooth locks, helplessly tugging at them and trying not to shut his eyes. He wants to see Magnus. He wants to savour this moment.

He comes with a shout when he hits the back of Magnus’ throat, eyelids falling shut, head rolling back and his body going limp against the wall. Magnus swallows all of him, and Alec can feel his eyes on him, making shivers run down his body. He’s sure he’d fall down if it wasn’t for the wall and Magnus, who rises back up on his feet and is nuzzling his head against Alec’s neck, arms holding him.

“Hey,” Magnus whispers in his ear, lightly kissing his cheek.

“Hi,” Alec replies, turning his face to meet Magnus’ lips, again. He can faintly taste himself on the other man.

Magnus brings his hands up and cups Alec’s face when they break apart. His eyes travel all over Alec’s face, as if he’s seeing a piece of Renaissance art and is trying to take it in.

“You’re beautiful.” He says, a reply to what Alec said earlier, and Alec melts at that, a dopey smile taking over his face as he trails his arms around Magnus’ waist and pulls him closer. Magnus rubs his nose against Alec’s, then chuckles when Alec scrunches up his face.

“I was hoping… that after this, we can, you know, have drinks sometime…” Alec lets out, wishing that this isn’t going to be just a one time thing.

Magnus smiles, tilting his head. “Are you asking me out on a date, Alexander?”

“I’m trying to.” Alec replies, biting the inside of his cheek

Magnus chuckles again. “I would love that.”

“The way Magnus has the most spacious and the most sound-proofed bedroom in this place and yet you both decided to get off here,” Agron walks into the room, and directly to the deep freezer, not even looking at Magnus or Alec.

Alec startles, almost flinching away from Magnus and immediately tucking himself back in his pants, though Agron can’t see anything because of Magnus blocking the view.

“Didn’t you have 2 drinks already, Ron?” Magnus asks, turning his head to look at the other guy. But Agron just rolls his eyes. He looks like he’s 18 but he’s actually 2 centuries old, he’s one of the oldest in the nest.

“Get a room.” He says instead, taking out a bag and quietly walking out of there, not interested in a conversation.

“Do you think all of them heard us?” Alec asks, genuinely embarrassed.

“They probably did,” Magnus laughs and Alec slaps his arm. “Well, I think we should listen to Agron, shouldn’t we?”

Alec sighs, dropping his head on Magnus’ shoulder. “We probably should.”

They retreat to Magnus’ bedroom pretty quickly, Alec avoiding all the gazes on him and especially Lily’s exaggerated wink. The sun’s at the brink of rising when Alec finds himself in Magnus’ arms, on Magnus’ bed, clothless. It’s peaceful, warm, being in Magnus’ embrace.

And for the first time in months, Alec truly feels at home.

“Magnus?”

Magnus hums, face buried in Alec’s hair. “Yes?”

“I adore you, too”

[aceonice]

Meet Me At The Finish Line

Alec and Magnus are rivals in the sport of motorcycle racing, complete with flirtatious banter before and after each race- until Alec is injured in a car crash. Magnus' unexpected visit to the hospital takes their relationship to the next level.

(Rated T, no archive warnings apply, rivals to lovers)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639155

Alec fell into motorbike-racing without any actual intention of ending up there.

He hadn’t even harbored an interest in motorcycles until Isabelle bought one. He knew the first time he rode with her that he had to do it again. So he saved up, he learned to drive a bike, he researched the best ones, and he got his own. He’d loved riding it around the city, swerving in and out of traffic, but even then, he’d never thought of racing. 

It had been Jace who had dragged him to a race he was competing in. Watching the bikes fly around the track, the fierce competitive nature of it, had drawn Alec in. Three years later and he was one of the top racers amongst his group and more competitive than ever.  

And he definitely doesn’t have a crush on his biggest rival.  

Alec eyes the man straddling the motorcycle next to him. There’s five of them today racing today, using a certified track, engines not yet started, helmets not yet on. It gives Alec the chance to check out Magnus under the guise of sizing him up. 

Magnus doesn’t fit anyone's idea of a typical racer. He styles his hair up even though it’s always flattened by the helmet during the race and he never fails to wear a good amount of sparkly makeup. (The dark lines around his eyes definitely don't make them more enticing.) He hasn't put on his gloves yet so his black-painted nails are on full display.

He smirks back at Alec, somehow stunning despite the bulky, bright colored racing suit he's in. “Are you going to actually give me a challenge today Lightwood?” 

Alec glares back. Alec has won against him dozens of times, but Magnus has won the last three races- a fact that he refuses to let Alec forget. It’s always by the slimmest margins too.  

“You know I hate seeing you lose Bane. Why do you think I’ve been going easy on you?”

It’s an obvious lie, but it’s pre-race trash talk. It doesn’t have to be honest. It doesn’t even have to be effective so long as it gets you ready to pour your heart into the race.  

Magnus actually snorts. “If that were the case, I'd think there would be a little less helmet-throwing at the end of each race.” 

Alec responds with ease, “What would the fans think if I didn’t at least act disappointed?”  

“How much did the new helmet cost you?” Magnus quirks a perfectly manicured eyebrow at the helmet in Alec’s hands.  

“Nothing I won’t win back today.”  

Magnus picks up his own helmet and fastens it securely on his head as the announcer calls for racers to get in position. “I won’t make it easy on you.” 

Alec straddles his bike, tearing his eyes from Magnus to the track in front of them. “Wouldn’t be fun if you did.” 

The announcer calls for the racers to start their engines. The familiar synchronized roar is like music to Alec’s ears. He leans forward, adrenaline rushing through his system. He has to win today.

He has to win before his recent losses turn into an actual losing streak.  

“Ready. Set. Go!” 

Alec is moving the moment the pistol shoots. He stays low in his seat to maintain a more aerodynamic shape as well as keeping balanced. He can see Magnus’ bike out of the corner of his eye, reaching the first turn. Magnus is forced to decelerate while Alec speeds up, taking advantage of his slightly slower start, the acceleration providing him better traction to take the turns faster. It’s a risky maneuver, but he gains a the lead.  

Alec excels on the flat tracks. He stays inches ahead of Magnus around each turn. He sees another racer lean too far and go skidding, but he can't give it his attention. He keeps as far from it as possible.

The first time Alec had witnessed a crash, it had thrown him off his game and sent him almost crashing as well. He'd managed to correct, but had landed solidly in last place- only above the girl who’d crashed and withdrawn. 

Now Alec crosses the finish line seconds before Magnus. He grins as they make the slowdown lap before parking at the finish line. Alec tugs off his helmet to beam at the small, but fiercely enthusiastic audience.   

Then, without helping it, his eyes go to Magnus as he pulls his own helmet off. His hair has been pressed down flatter and sweat drips down the sides of his face, smearing his makeup. It’s unfair that he still manages to look attractive.

Even more infuriating is the easy smile playing at his lips. “Congratulations Lightwood.” 

Alec huffs. “You too.” 

“What, are you upset that I’m not a sore-loser?” Alec narrows his eyes. He knows Magnus is just as competitive as he is.  

“Of course not. You do have experience with losing after all.” 

Magnus gasps, gloved hand going to his heart in mock-hurt. “You wound me.” 

“Clearly.” Alec scans the trail for the racer that had skidded off the track and finds him by the announcer’s tent, looking upset, but uninjured. 

“It’s no matter, the next track is natural terrain and lots of jumps, I’ll be surprised if you finish in the top three.” 

Alec’s eyes dart back to Magnus, zeroing in on the faux innocent expression. “I’ll kick your ass there too, just wait.” 

“I will. Wait for you- at the finish line I mean. You know I can’t resist our banter.” 

Alec rolls his eyes, tugging off his gloves as the race director heads their way to distribute the winnings. It’s a small race with a small audience so it’s a slim amount, but it covers a portion of the cost of Alec’s new helmet. His regular nine-to-five job covers the rest.  

Isabelle has made it down to the track and is pulling him into a hug when the race director finally leaves. “Good job, Alec! You looked great out there today!” 

“Thanks, I felt good today.” He tries to be subtle as he scans for Magnus in the crowd that has grown around them.  

“Oh? Did you finally ask Magnus out?” 

“Isabelle!” He leans gently against his bike, focusing on her. “It’s not like that.” 

She puts a hand on her hip. “Someone could cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a knife. I swear, the way you eye-fuck each other before every race, I’m surprised one of you hasn’t just mauled the other by now.” 

Alec feels a heat spread through his cheeks that has nothing to do with the warmth of his racing attire. “Would you stop,” he hisses, making sure no one has overheard. “You can’t even hear what we talk about.” 

“I don’t have to hear it, I have eyes. Did you even spare a glance to any of the other racers?” 

“Magnus was my biggest competitor.” 

“And he has the best ass?” 

Alec throws his leg over his bike, leveling her with a glare. “I’m done with this conversation.” 

Isabelle laughs, but thankfully changes the topic until they leave for lunch, side by side on their bikes.  

 As much as Alec hates to admit it, Magnus is an expert at jumps while Alec still struggles with them. It leaves him more nervous than usual at the next race a week later, observing the dirt terrain. Rather than going in a circular loop, they’re racing along a trail decorated with obstacles to reach the end.  

There are more competitors as well. Ten racers in Alec’s group and he still ends up next to an impeccably-styled Magnus. He parks his bike, overhearing the end of Magnus’ conversation with another racer, Raphael Santiago. He know Raphael will give them both a run for their money. 

“It’s a waste of time,” Raphael is saying when he pulls up. 

Magnus waves Raphael off as he turns to Alec, sending him a sly smile. “Good morning Lightwood. You look like you’re ready to come in well behind me.” 

Alec rolls his eyes at the less than genius quip. “Is that the best you’ve got Bane? You seem tired. Did you skimp on your sleep so you’d have time to do your makeup?” 

Raphael snorts even as he give no other sign of listening. Magnus shoots him a glare before refocusing. “Thank you for noticing. Too bad you won’t have a chance to admire it when we get done as I’ll be busy collecting my winnings.” 

“So confident, but it wasn’t you that one the last natural track was it?” Alec winks even though technically neither of them had won, both beaten out by Raphael.

It’s enough to make Magnus gape at him, though he recovers quickly.“And today is the day to change that, isn't it? Try not to get too distracted by my makeup once we’re racing- I want to win fair and square.” 

Alec knows that when Magnus puts on the helmet it will obscure his face almost completely. Alec wouldn’t be able to admire his makeup even if he wanted to. “I think I’ll manage to control myself.” 

“Ay, dios mio,” Raphael grumbles, making Magnus flip him off despite the boxy, slightly difficult to maneuver gloves.  

Magnus snaps back in Spanish, too quickly for Alec to catch the words or even attempt to understand them. Raphael’s response is slightly slower but the only word Alec catches is ‘peacock’ which is either a sign of his rusty skills or they’re talking about something else completely.  

A whistle blows, drawing their attention and the ten racers pull their helmets on, straddling their bikes. Magnus gives Alec a two finger salute before the next whistle blows and the engines come to life. The third whistle and they’re off.  

Alec is getting better at the difficult trails, but there’s more people than use’s used to and he finds himself fighting to keep near the front. He hits the ramps at the best angles he can and he lands them smoothly. Still, Magnus and Raphael are faster, more experienced. 

Magnus crosses the finish line milliseconds before Raphael, followed quickly by Alec. He glowers as he slows to a stop and rips his helmet off, barely resisting the urge to toss it. He really can’t afford to go through helmets so quickly.  

Magnus is grinning despite his smeared makeup. “Third place isn’t last place you know, no reason to look so upset.” 

“Congratulations,” Alec forces through his teeth. 

“Thank you,” Magnus dips into an exaggerated bow.  

“You barely won,” Raphael says from Magnus’ other side, looking just as upset as Alec. 

Magnus simply shrugs as he pulls off his gloves. His fingers, nails painted black, brush through his hair, pushing it from his forehead. “Don’t be bitter, it’s not a good look on you.” 

Raphael mutters something under his breath, turning away from them to talk to the girl who’d come in fourth.  

Magnus’ smile turns more sincere. “You’re getting better, Lightwood. You might actually give me a challenge soon.” 

“Soon?” Alec echoes, rolling his eyes. His annoyance at not being first is fading. “Did you already forget last week’s race?” 

“How could I? You showed up with that shiny new helmet.” 

“Next week,” Alec growls, “I’m going to demolish you.” 

Magnus raises an eyebrow, his eyes flitting over Alec’s body in a way that makes him self-conscious of the bulky racing suit. “At least buy me a drink first.” 

“Very funny,” Alec says, voice dry. 

“Nothing but the best for you.” 

 The third week is the semi-finals. It determines who goes to the finals for a chance to advance levels. The top three in any category get to advance, but it’s a tough competition with more competitors. Alec can tell by the unusually quiet nature of the racers around him while he waits for his group to be called. Isabelle's group has already raced and she'd secured second place, finishing just behind Jace.  

Alec scans his group, looking for the tale-tale sign of Magnus’ spiked hair, but somehow Magnus finds him first, appearing almost out of nowhere, helmet and glove in his hands. His nails are painted bright red to match his lips. As if Alec doesn’t already have a hard time not looking at those lips.  

“Lightwood, you look serious as always,” Magnus greets, settling into place beside him. 

Alec feels his face soften slightly as he takes in the red streaks in Magnus’ hair. “I’m not going to win by not taking this seriously, am I?” 

“Maybe not,” Magnus concedes. “Although you don’t have to look so serious before each race. This is a hobby, not a job.” 

Alec snorts. “I don’t look that serious.” 

Magnus hums. “You know I won’t go easy on you just because you’re cute.” 

“You never have before,” Alec manages to say, proud of himself for not getting flustered under the sudden flirtation.  

“Not that you know of.” 

Alec levels him with an unimpressed look. “As if you would ever let anyone win.” 

“You’re right, I’m much too competitive.” Magnus glances at the track where fifteen bikes are currently racing around it. “Your sister did well."

“How do you know who my sister is?” 

Magnus rolls his eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Lightwood. You have the same last name. And you talk to her after every race.” 

“She came in second. She’s going to move up which means if I don’t move up, I’ll be competing against her.” And Jace.

“And that’s a problem because?” 

“She’d never let me live it down.” He doesn’t mention that he’d miss competing with Magnus if he were left behind. Different levels would mean the end of their bantering, the end of their talking. 

The current group finishes and Alec’s group is called to get their bikes in position. Alec glances at Magnus, “Good luck Bane, I mean coming in second or third.” 

“Good luck to you. I’m sure you won’t be upset if I beat you again, will you?” Magnus blows him a kiss that makes Alec irritated and smitten at the same time, a confusing paradox that he doesn’t have time to focus on. He gets his bike and moves to the third starting place. Unlike their previous races, the amount of racers means they each have their own lane that they have to start at and stay in.

It means Alec is placed slightly behind Magnus, trying not to think about how good he looks straddling his bike. He forces the thoughts to the back of his mind. He has a race to win. 

Being behind Magnus while racing is frustrating.

Logically he knows that it doesn’t mean he’s actually behind    him in terms of placement, but that's how it feels. Alec pushes his bike to go faster, takes the turns with a recklessness that borders on stupid. He’s lucky he doesn’t tip over. Instead, he manages to close the distance between his bike and Magnus’ as they reach the end.

He’s grinning when he stops. He thinks he’s set a personal best. 

Alec is announced first place winner and he rips off his helmet, pumping his fist. Magnus finished directly behind him with Dorthea Rollins coming in third. He sees both of them smiling, despite not being first. They've qualified for the finals.  

“Sorry you couldn’t keep a streak,” Alec says, winded for no real reason other than excitement.  

Magnus snorts. “You may have deserved that win, don’t think I didn’t notice you catching up to me... But I will get my vengeance at the finals.” 

“I’m sure you’ll do your best to come in first,” Alec trails off, leaving the clear insinuation that he expects to be first.  

Their group moves their bikes from the track off to the side with the racers who have already competed, but chosen to stick around. Alec finds Isabelle and Jace right away, both of them pulling him into hugs to congratulate him. He notices Magnus off to the side, celebrating with his own friends. He catches Magnus’ eye for a moment and flushes when Magnus winks at him.

He turns away and tries to focus on his sister and Jace, but Magnus stays at the back of his mind. He’s already itching to see him again, to banter with him over first place.  

 On his drive home from work the following Friday, Alec is thinking about the race. He’s already psyched up over it and he’s a little worried he won't get any sleep if he continues thinking this way.  

Perhaps that’s part of why he doesn’t swerve fast enough when the car next to him suddenly switches lanes without signaling.  

Alec is thrown from his bike before he has time to process what’s happened. He feels his body hit the concrete, but the pain is a distant, foggy thing. He blinks up at a face as it appears over him. Her mouth is moving, but he can’t understand what she’s saying.  

It takes a few minutes for Alec’s head to clear, but when it does, he becomes aware of the acute pain coursing through his body. He tries to lift his arms, to take off his helmet, but a sharp pain in his left arm makes him lower it. He uses his right hand to tug the helmet off. 

The woman is still leaning over him. Her voice finally comes in to focus, “Are you alright? Please tell me you’re okay, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I called the police and an ambulance, they’re headed here now.” 

Alec struggles to follow along, to understand what she’s saying. Finally the words sink in and he comes to the realization, “You hit me with your car.” 

She’s crying. She says something else, but Alec doesn't process it. He thinks his mother was right when she warned them against buying a motorcycle. ‘Death machines’ she had called them. She was right. 

Some time later, as Alec has completely lost the ability to notice time passing, sirens approach. EMTs surround him. A woman with a kind face asks him questions he struggles to answer. They remove his leather jacket- what's left of it anyways- to survey the wounds on his upper body.  

Alec is loaded onto a stretcher and rolled into the back of an ambulance where the EMTs put him on pain medication that completely numbs him.  

The ride to the hospital and the following events are a blur to Alec and he finally understands why when he’s lying on a hospital bed, after having underdone multiple X-rays. A male nurse named Simon details his injuries. 

“You’re lucky you were wearing a helmet! Without it... well, it would’ve been worse than a concussion,” Simon says, pushing up his glasses to study the file in front of him.  

Alec soon learns there’s also a break in his left arm and a fracture in his left shin. His right ankle had been dislocated and popped back into place. A deep cut lines the side of his abdomen where his shirt had ridden up, allowing the road to dig into his skin. Large amounts of bruising is obvious throughout his body. 

Alec groans as the nurse reaches the end of the list of injuries. “So I can’t race tomorrow?” 

“You can’t even go home tomorrow. We’re going to keep you over night the next couple days to make sure you didn’t sustain a worse head injury.” 

“Great.” Alec sighs. “Did my phone survive the crash?” 

Simon grabs a clear bag from the nightstand next to his bed. “This is all your personal items we recovered.” 

Alec is relieved to find his phone in one piece. He shoots off a text to Isabelle, telling her he’s fine, but in the hospital. “I don’t suppose my bike is salvageable?” 

He knows the answer based on the way Simon hisses slightly and recoils. “No, uh, it was busted.” 

“Great,” he says again.

“The woman who hit you gave her information though so you’ll be able to get everything covered by her insurance.” 

Alec knows that will probably take as long as it takes his body to heal. It will be a while before he's able to get back on a bike. “Thanks, Simon” 

 After that he’s allowed to sleep, though a nurse wakes him up every hour to make sure he won’t go into a coma or die from the concussion. Finally, he wakes up to find Isabelle at his bedside. She’s scrolling through her phone, but there’s a crease in her eyebrows that hints at her worry.  

“Hey.” 

Her head jerks up and Alec feels guilty when he sees the red in her eyes. She tucks her phone away, leaning forward, “Alec! I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“I’m fine, just a little... sore.” It’s the understatement of the century and Isabelle’s expression suggests she knows this.  

“The timing is horrible too, Alec, I’m so sorry,” she reaches for his hand. “Do you want me to find the person that did this and make them regret ever being born? Because I can do that.” 

Alec doesn’t doubt her abilities given her job in the FBI, but he shakes his head- scowling when the simple motion makes his head ache. “No, it’s fine. Her insurance will cover the costs, I just have to deal with this,” Alec gestures weakly at the hospital bed. He sighs, slumping into the pillows. “I was going to advance tomorrow.” 

“I know how excited you were.” 

Alec huffs a forced laugh. “I told Magnus I wouldn’t let him win easily, but now I am.” 

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Isabelle quirks an eyebrow, running a hand through her long locks. “Do you want me to stay with you tomorrow? I don’t have to race.” 

“What? No! Just because I can’t go doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to,” Alec responds instantly. “Go, and win. We’ll compete against each other when I recover.” 

Isabelle relaxes in her chair. “Good. I really want to go. But I would have stayed with you if you’d asked!” 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says gently. 

“Even though I told Mom and Dad what happened?” 

Alec groans. “What did they say?” 

“They’re worried about you. I barely talked Mom out of buying a ticket and flying out here to see you.” 

“Thank you.” He loves his parents, but he doesn’t think he could stand them fussing and, ultimately, lecturing him while he’s held hostage in the hospital bed.  

She nods seriously, understanding his unspoken concerns. “They are going to want to talk to you though, as soon as possible.” 

“You mean I can’t even use the concussion as an excuse?” He tries and fails to push down a smile.  

“I don’t think so.”

Alec blinks rapidly as his eyelids grow steadily heavier. He sighs. “I'll call them later. Whatever medicine they put me on is making me sleepy.” 

“Or it’s just a side effect of being hit by a car.” He manages to keep his eyes open to glare at her. She laughs, but stands and presses a nurturing kiss to his forehead. “Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” He struggles to stay coherent enough to have this conversation. “I’ll be sleeping most of the time. You should go home.” 

She smiles mischievously. “And miss up the opportunity to flirt with your nurse?” 

Of course she has an ulterior motive. He lets his eyes fall closed, “I didn’t think he was your type.” 

He hears her say something about ‘cute nerdy guys’, but sleep takes over before he can respond. 

 Alec quickly realizes that having a concussion is boring. He’s not allowed to read or watch TV or use his phone for very long. Mostly he naps. It gets to the point that he’s dozing more often than sleeping, still somewhat aware of his surroundings. 

It’s during one of these times that Alec is roused by the door to his hospital room opening. He peels his eyes open, expecting to see a nurse.

He has to blink a few times to make sure the man in front of him isn’t a mirage.  

Magnus Bane is standing halfway in the room, a bouquet of roses in his hand. His hair is flattened and there’s a slight shine to his skin that suggests he’s come straight from racing, without bothering to wash his face or hair. He’s changed out of his racer’s outfit into a pair of tight-fitting black jeans and a shimmery silver tank top that leaves his strong, golden arms on display. If Alec thought Magnus was hot before, and he did, he can only think that this is so much more. 

Alec’s first thought- after taking in Magnus’ appearance, is that Magnus must have the wrong room.

Except, even in Alec’s drugged-up and concussed state, he realizes the almost impossible odds of Magnus knowing someone else in the same hospital and then going to the wrong room.  

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Magnus finally says, still hovering halfway between Alec’s bed and the door. Alec fumbles for the remote to tilt his bed up so he’s sitting more than laying.

“It’s fine.” His voice is deeper than he intends, husky with sleep and, if he’s honest, arousal. “All I’ve done for the past... twenty-four hours? Is sleep.” 

Magnus takes a step closer. “Are you sure? I can leave.” 

Alec snorts. “Sit down Magnus.” 

He raises an eyebrow as he follows Alec’s instructions. “Magnus?” 

Alec shrugs. He hadn’t actually meant to call Magnus by his first name, but he thinks it’s about time they were on a first name basis. He nods at the flowers. “Are those... Are they for me?” 

Magnus looks down at them, the slightest hint of color rising to his ears. “I wasn’t sure you would want them, but it is customary to bring someone flowers when they’re in the hospital.” 

“They’re beautiful,” Alec reassures him, reaching out his good arm, hooked to an IV but without any broken bones, to take the flowers. He sniffs them and smiles. “No one has ever given me flowers before.” 

“That is a travesty. However, I’m glad I could be the first.” 

There’s a softness to Magnus’ voice that makes something in Alec melt. He looks up at Magnus, takes in his smudged makeup. “How was the race?” 

Magnus brushes a hand through his hair, averting his gaze. “Clary Fray won.” 

“What- how did she beat you?” Alec knows Clary is a fast racer, but he doesn’t remember the last time Magnus lost to her. “You finished in the top three, right?” 

“About that...” 

Alec knows by his expression that Magnus hadn't placed in the top three. The idea seems impossible. His voice comes out more concerned than he expects, “What happened?”  

Magnus sighs and finally meets his gaze again. Alec doesn’t miss the way he’s nervously twisting his hands in his lap. “You weren’t there. I got distracted.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Alexander,” Magnus chastises. “Don’t you dare apologize for being hit by a car.” 

Alec huffs a laugh as he places the roses carefully on the bedside table. He’ll have to text Isabelle, tell her to pick up a vase on her way back. “You’ll have to wait another six months to advance.” 

“Oh no, looks like I’ll have to continue racing against you. How terrible.” Magnus’ tone is thick with sarcasm.  

Alec can’t hide his smile. He blames it on the pain medication, but he’s just excited that he’ll still be racing against Magnus- when he’s able to return to racing. Only then does it occur to him to ask, “How did you know I was here?” 

“Isabelle. I knew you wouldn’t have missed the race unless something bad had happened. I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me, but I wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

“I always want to see you,” Alec says before realizing the connotations of his words. He feels his cheeks flame. Stupid pain medication.“ I mean, I’ve been really bored so I’m glad to have a visitor.” 

Magnus is grinning at him. “Don’t worry, the feeling is mutual.” When Alec blinks at him, uncomprehending, Magnus adds, “I always want to see you too.” 

“Oh.” He swallows hard. “We should then. See each other more. Outside of racing- since I guess I won’t be doing that for a little while anyways...” He shakes his head before he follows that train of thought. He focuses on Magnus. “We should go on a date.” 

“I didn’t expect you to be so forward, but I would love to.” Magnus is still smiling at him. 

“It’s the pain medication, it’s making me loopy.” He grimaces at the word. “But I do want to go on a date with you.”  

“Good.” Magnus reaches out, lays his hand gently over Alec’s. Alec studies the black nail polish. He admires the multitudes of rings on Magnus’ long, delicate fingers. He’s never seen Magnus wear jewelry before, but he thinks it would probably be uncomfortable under the racing gloves.  

Alec turns his hand up so their palms meet, sliding their fingers together. “Izzy told me to man up and ask you out.” 

“Raphael told me to stop flirting with you at every race because it was a waste of time. I knew he was wrong and now I have proof.” 

“That was you flirting?” Alec marvels. “I thought that was just... banter.” 

“It was, partly. It was also flirting. You look good on a bike. Or next to a bike. Or next to anything.” 

Alec feels a blush climb over his cheeks. “Even after being hit by a car?” 

Magnus rolls his eyes, lifting his hand to brush a strand of hair from Alec’s forehead. “Even now.”  

The heat from his touch lingers even after Magnus pulls his hand away. Alec sits forward slightly, unintentionally chasing it. “You do too.” 

“My makeup is smudged and my hair is flat,” Magnus says, deadpan.  

Alec shrugs. “You’re still beautiful.” 

Magnus sucks in a breath, moving closer like he’s being tugged in by a gravitational pull. “Can I kiss you?” 

“I didn’t break my jaw,” Alec can’t resist the urge to tease. Magnus ignores it to move in and gently press their lips together. He pulls back far too soon, leaving Alec frowning. “That’s it?” 

“You have a concussion,” Magnus reminds him. “We can kiss more when you’re healed.” 

Alec huffs, leaning back into his pillows. “Is that a promise?” 

“Absolutely.” 

[erchommai-a]

how the bond thing should work: clary x jon edition.

i gooot bored at this party and kinda stressed so have some unedited rambling for now. I’ll fix it up later.

The main essence of the bond would not be any different really, in the sense that Clary would not be able to deny Jon anymore than Jon could have denied Clary anything they asked for each other.

The main difference would have been the balance of power between them.

Seb had the upper hand on Jace because Jace, by all honestly, has a soft heart. He’s a good boy. And Jon is a powerhouse, an intimidator, a dictator, and Jace is an easy target to push his will on.

Clary is not.

She’s stubborn and more powerful in many ways Jace just isn’t.

“You’ve got a dark heart in you, Clary.”

*With this bond, it would have been able to manifest much more clearly, much louder than any of Jon’s natural attempts because as I’ve talked about a bit before: it’s not just as simply as a tether.

It bleeds out. They bleed onto each other. A sharing of want and needs and a bond that clings to their soul and mashes it together.

But she’s stubborn.

She’s strong willed.

She’s impossible.

And every bit as hard headed as he is.

So unlike with Jace and Jon the possibility that the bond works differently in one distinct way is that it’s always going to be a fight: of whose will will overpower the other.

His darkness versus her light. Or her darkness versus his.

Because they share that too.

Those Morgensterns.

Those fallen angels.

Where Jonathan may just have a degree more control over his darkness does not mean that Clary does not hold the same power or capability for that same darkness.

And just because Clary has a much better hold on her light doesn’t mean there’s nothing to pull out of Jon.

( Similarly in how, to some degree, Jace managed to pull out some semblance of humanity in him.)

Only the difference here is Clary has a much stronger pull on Jonathan’s strings. She is his humanity even if its unrecognizable to him or her or anyone else really. It’s in her hands whether he fully burns himself to nothing or if there’s a possibility, even a small one, to bring out the boy inside of him.

But it’s not that easy.

Nothing ever is.

Loving a Monster never is.

So it’s a fight of how far down he could drag her with him. How much of the darkness he could pull onto the surface. How much he could do to show her that there could be monstrous acts in innocent intentions and there could be saving graces in horrible violence.

It’s a dance, a repeat through the centuries of that same old tune: dark v light.

Because to some degree, that’s always all Jonathan wants.

For Clary, or really anyone to see, they could be just like him.

And I do think this bond would work wonders in that sense for Clary to feel he struggle of violence and humanity inside of Jon he has never really learned to translate into thought or words.

Cos in the same way that Jon has a bond with Lilith, Clary has a bond with Ithuriel.

And where she translates Heaven, Jon infuses hell into his very actions because hell is so limited to only few words. Spoiler alert: they’re always bad. So what else would he know?

And there could be great symmetry simply in the fact that where he could master hell, Clary could master heaven.

Okay, I’m rambling.

But just picture this: 

They awake in the apartment. Jon still struggling barely alive, cos there’s always a price to pay for life, and it’s never just as simple as finding some other heart, some other spirit to share it with you, especially unwanted.

And she has no choice.

She has to help, has to care, has to bring him back to full health because the scar burns, her skin sizzles, her chest aches with every ragged breath and the agony in him screams in  her head until the bond is complete.

And then it’s quiet.

Just quiet for days and darkness.

An apartment to explore with a question behind every door.

And then he wakes up and she feels him before he sees him, standing behind her, watching him with his dark eyes and a shirt barely draped over him.

Cos Jon is that ass whose going to be barely clothed and still using every sneak attack at his disposal to seduce her, to prompt a reaction, to FEEL every emotion: hatred, disgust, annoyance, it didn’t matter, from her.

Because hey, let’s be honest, it’s an upgrade from indifference, from disappointment, from helpless longing for parental figures that fuck you over. 

At least it’s just a sister now that hates you and says it to your face.

AND YOU KNOW Clary’s hatred can feed him for eons with the intensity of it. 

But he’s close and she can feel him too.

The complicated emotion that swims in his chest.

The rage, the anger, the resentment because it never goes away. It lives in him like oxygen. And he’s loud and he’s heavy and he’s a monster but...she can’t really run away.

Because even without words he’s begging, demanding, commanding, making her stay.

And she can kill him.

He would offer it, walk up to her, knife in his hand. Put it in hers and take it to his chest, feel the burn that would pierce both of their skin, threaten to push deeper while they both bleed from the heart.

But she hears her better judgment.

She can get away from this some other way.

She’s smarter and sneakier than he knows. Than anyone gives her credit for.

But he knows and he lets her.

Cos again, he’s selfish. And he’s needy. And he wants her.

And there’s a trust that comes with the bond, for him, misplaced as it may be that so long as they’re tethered together she can’t leave and she can’t kill him. ( two very simple requirements for his roommate really )

And it’s a few days of quiet then, of Clary holed up i her room, away from him, feeding on sustenance runes.

But there’s the smell of food, of a breakfast laid out, of Jon in some ridiculous apron he’d brought in from outside and it’s normal.

And there’s still no talk of war. No future. Just food. And he shares and he watches her. She’s uncomfortable but she’s hungry. And the violence that comes from him is quiet, more quiet than its been before. And he looks healthier, more human now than he has been in days.

And he asks, because he caaan FEEL that’s important (rather than imposing) if she wants to go out, show her anywhere she wanted to go, takes her to Paris, explore the city, show her off.

Take her to art museums.

Things he thinks she’ll like. 

Places he thinks would make her like him. 

Tell her stories about the city, the people, the history.

And then a demon.

Cos war catches up even if they don’t want it.

And in a manner of days its the Clave.

Shadowhunters come because the world needs to know where Clary Fairchild disappeared to.

There can’t be quiet for long.

And it happens without either of them expecting it, she kills someone that tries to attack him.

A faceless shadowhunter dead in her arms.

And they have to go home, back to the apartment, Clary struggling with the guilt.

But Jon takes it away.

Cause blame is for him. 

He can carry it for her. She can hate him for trying to protect him.

What else is new after all?

And he’s planning, in quiet, in secret, just out of earshot when she’s in her room for what to do, how to be king, to bring back Lilith just in case.

( Cos even with all the want he can’t be sure, can’t be absolutely certain, that he could win with her. That she won’t walk away the minute she finds an exit strategy. Cos, again, when has anyone chosen him over everything else. It’s why COHF was so necessary to be done the way it was. To cage her in with him in Edom. But that’s for another discussion. )

But again, Clary’s a mistrustful clever girl and she’ll see through the ruse eventually.

In the mean time, he takes her to places and he asks her questions. Cos he has this neeed to know. To understand her. And in between he’s sneaking touches, moments, looking for any excuse really to get close to her.

And she’s playing the game, the long con, to figure out how to escape him, how to butter him up, cos in the same way she can’t deny his whims, he can’t deny hers.

( Even if its a battle of wills, there’s more of a balance in decision making with them then there was with Jace and Jon. )

So one day she asks to see Jocelyn, to go back home, to see family.

And he would let her, because he wants her to trust him, he wants her to see he can be good, if only for her.

( Which, also, to some degree he could. There’s more to talk about this too in COHF. )

And he takes her home, brings her to Jocelyn, watches out of view. But they don’t account for Luke. They don’t consider that Jocelyn is ready. And that she can attack him with a knife to his back and the only thing that could stand in her way is Clary who is just as in pain as him but still defiant.

Cos there’s a impulse to protect him, whether its his want or her own, she’s not sure anymore.

And again there’s the question: “Can you kill your own son?” from Jon, but this time, she can feel it, the skip in his chest when he asks it. The violent whiplash in his chest. The curious burning that explodes into absolute silence when Jocelyn says yes and he’s stealing Clary back, bringing them home.

And he’s taking the knife from his shoulder, taking off his shirt to ask for her help. For an iratze.

And then there’s the scars.

There’s a context for the pain.

There’s questions and then there’s answers.

A childhood spilled out onto every engraved line on the span of his back.

And god Clary is suddenly turned vengeful angel to anyone who has ever brought him harm.

Sister turned protector.

And again there’s the shift, there’s almost understanding, comfort in her touch, in her eyes, in the way they talk.

But he’s keeping secrets still and laying down traps.

Still not completely trusting her to understand what he wants, what he expects to happen.

And the little traps lead to clues.

Until they’re standing in front of some demon, offered answers on how to bring Lilith back.

But Clary does something without thinking, upsets the demon, an there’s a fight and they’re both scratched and clawed out after.

She asks why, she has to, she doesn’t understand. Why of everyone he would bring her back? A demon when there’s a mother to come back to? They just need to change her mind.

But again, that’s ridiculous to him. To comprehend Jocelyn the way Clary does.

And for the first time since the plains he kisses her, hard and desperate and she pushes him away.

“That’s why.”

Because he wants someone that’s entirely his. He needs someone just as devoted. He demands it from the universe and if it won’t give, he wills it into existence even if he has to kill a thousand more lives.

It’s madness.

It’s irrational.

It’s suicidal.

And they go home complete with answers with different goals.

She arranges to stop him, finally finding some sneaky way to call for Jace or anyone. While Jon is planning to bring Lilith back.

And he’s clouded with desperation because what? He’s a messsss and fucked up.

While she’s renewed with a sense of purpose. She wants her brother. She wants her family a second chance. And she’s just as impossible to change her mind as Jon is.

Jace tries of course, reminds her who Jonathan is to the world.

But she knows better.

She’s seen more of him than he did of himself.

And there’s a whole rush to the end, to the Burren, to the gang coming in and Jon’s people trying to fight them. It’s a mess and Jon is shouting that if Clary is harmed they’re all dead.

And they meet somewhere in the middle of it all, surrounded by clashing swords and war and devastation cos THAT should be the backdrop of everything that revolves these two.

With Jon coming in, sword through someone’s chest just as they’re about to attack Clary.

And it feels like their bond is burning after a few days of being far away from each other. Both their emotions loud and pronounced to each other.

Only this time its Clary that comes with an offer.

It’s Clary coming with salvation.

It’s Clary offering to take him home.

Give him absolution.

Mark him hers in no way anyone can because it’ll be no rune heaven or clave has ever done.

It’ll be hers.

Which means he’ll be hers.

Something that could share the hell with the heaven in the marks on both their chest.

Something that’s explicitly just theirs.

( Cos come ooon, Clary is literally the creator, she can make and do whatever she wants if she wills it. )

I meaaan that’s the pg-13 and summarized part

WHERE this could lead, I’m just saying there’s a lot of opportunity for obsession, possession and seduction to be involved. Cause Jon is my burning garbage baby.

And he’s not afraid to use the bond to steal opportune moments to get close to her as previously said.

And basically, theres a whole lot of potential too to make Clary absolute batshit crazy dark too. But again, it doesn’t necessarily have to end at this. Cos even in Jon’s absolute darkness his goal is very Clary-oriented. So if Clary ever changed her mind and wanted the world to be her kingdom than Jon is the first to get on his knees and help her with that.

I’m very stressed from this part so I’ll probably get back to editing/adding more when I get some freetime.

[pocket-elf]

If Aught But Death - parabatai angst fic

I didn’t think I would get deeper into this fandom than learning to gif for it. But here we are and I, the graphic person, have ended up writing a damn fic (2k long btw). 

Clary doesn’t ask for Jace’s life back, and Alec has to deal with losing a part of his soul...

It hits Alec like a punch to the gut. The air is knocked out of him and the ops centre fades. All he can see is…

Jace.

The fist to his stomach turns to a claw, ripping at his insides. His parabatai rune burns as he falls to the floor in agony. He doesn’t even notice Magnus and Izzy rushing to his side, as images of Jace flickers through his mind; their first meeting, training together, falling in impossible love with him, becoming parabatai and forever linked. And it hurts more than anything he could ever have imagined. This isn’t Jace being ravaged by poison or having his arm shattered by an elapid demon. No, this is different. This is Jace leaving. This is Jace being forcefully taken from him. He can’t breathe.

As the rune on his abdomen fades, so does the pain. And then there is… nothing. Where there was excruciating pain there is only emptiness. Where there was once a second heartbeat, a second energy always aligned to his, there is only one. There is only Alec. He is utterly alone.

“I can’t feel him. He’s dead.”

After a few shaky breaths, Alec gets back on his feet and asks for a portal to Idris. He cannot grieve now. There will be a time for tears, but that time is not now. If Jace is dead, there is a big risk Clary is too, but on the off chance she isn’t, they need to get to her and quickly. That is what Alec has to focus on - the possibility to save a life.

But as they step through the portal, an angelic glow is lighting up the Idris night sky, and they know it’s too late. As Magnus refuses to get to safety and instead insists on having to find Jace and Clary, all Alec can think is that this has turned into a body retrieval mission. But there is no way they will leave them behind, even if they are beyond saving. And so, they run.

When they are almost out of the woods, the world is plunged back into darkness — the angel is gone. They adjust quickly and as they exit onto the lakeshore the faint glow of the moon illuminates a body crumpled on the side of the muddy path — Valentine, blood drying in the corner of his mouth and soaking into the grass. Clearly no mercy was shown to him.

Alec looks ahead, and finds Clary with her back turned to them. She’s hunched over but her shoulders are shaking. She’s alive. And in front of her, partly shielded from Alec’s view, what can only be Jace, his body broken and still on the cold ground.

At the sound of Alec approaching, Clary lifts her face to meet his eyes. Dirty tear tracks streak her face but she has stopped crying. She looks almost as empty as Alec feels. Then his gaze finally drops to the ground. To Jace. And to Clary’s hands — they are covered in blood. As is her jacket. And something inside Alec snaps. An irrational anger rushes to the surface, breaking through the void filling him up. He lashes out.

“What did you do?!”

Clary startles, and he thinks that maybe she didn’t actually see him before. And just as quickly as it rose, the anger and blame inside Alec dissipates.

“I killed him…” She chokes on the words, and for a horrific moment he thinks she does mean Jace.

“My father. I stabbed him. He… he was waiting for us. And he…” She looks down at her bloodied hands, still clutching Jace’s, and she starts crying again. Alec understands. He can almost see it — Valentine ambushing them on the shore, taking a knife to Jace’s heart. His heart. Alec’s heart. And Clary, like a hurricane, exacting revenge on her own father. If the emptiness inside wasn’t trying to drown him he would have been proud of her, but now all he can do is stare at the body at his feet.

He barely registers Magnus gently urging Clary to stand up, and how she falls into his arms as he leads her away to a waiting Izzy. He isn’t really aware of kneeling on the damp ground, taking her place by Jace’s side. It isn’t until his fingertips brush against Jace’s cold cheek that he realises where he is and what he is doing. Whenever they would touch there would always be a kind of low humming inside Alec. Something barely perceptible, but a sort of feedback through their bond telling them everything was alright. Now there is nothing. Jace is as removed from him as the wet grass under his knees. The void in his heart where Jace should be expands, clawing at the edges of Alec’s own soul.

“I told you to be careful. Why couldn’t you have listened to me just this once?”

He gently positions his arm under Jace’s shoulders and heaves the limp body onto his lap and into an embrace. Cheek resting against cheek he takes a deep breath, but still doesn’t allow himself to cry. Gently rocking he starts reciting the parabatai oath right next to Jace’s ear.

“Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee. For whither thou goest, I will go…”

He stops. His voice is shaking, and he cradles Jace’s body closer, remembering how the oath once brought him back from the brink and into Jace’s arms. But he knows Jace is gone. He felt the bond break. There is nothing left anymore. Nothing to bring back.

“How could you leave me Jace? We said we would go together, you and I. You promised.”

Pressing their bodies together Alec is heedless of the blood spreading across the front of his jacket. Even if he knows it is nothing but an empty shell he is clutching, he can’t help but try to get closer to anything that might still be left of his parabatai.

The others have been keeping their distance, comforting Clary while giving Alec the space he needs. But through the fog of grief pressing in around him, Alec can hear someone gently call his name. They need to leave. He loosens his grip on Jace’s body just enough to be able to rest their foreheads together. He closes his eyes, holding the tears in.

“Ave atque vale… hail and farewell.”

With clenched teeth and an empty stare he stands up, putting his left arm under Jace’s knees, bringing his body up with him. He will not let go. Not yet.

The portal is open and waiting for them. Alec shrugs off any attempts to help him with his burden. This is his parabatai, and no one will touch Jace until he is home.

Izzy goes first, supporting a stumbling Clary. Behind them Alec’s face is set in stone, his steps are sure, and the body he is carrying doesn’t even seem heavy — not for his arms, but his heart is another matter.

At the institute people immediately cluster around them, but Alec pays them no attention. He just takes one step after another, into the elevator, and up to the top floor where stained glass windows cast a colourful light on the stone slabs reserved for the dead. The room is empty and Alec gently places Jace’s body on the centre slab by the window, letting the first fractured rays of dawn play over Jace’s skin.

“Do you want me to call for the Silent Brothers?” Izzy asks in a low voice. She has stayed in the open doorway, not wanting to intrude in Alec’s space. He is grateful for that.

Without looking up he gently shakes his head. It may be customary to leave the dead for the Brothers, but not this time. Not Jace.

His sister doesn’t say anything else and Alec can hear her soft footsteps retreating. He doesn’t take his eyes off Jace’s face. How can he ever let go? They were supposed to stay together. Forever. Follow each other into the dark. But here Alec is, alone, with the sun rising. And that is why he has to do this, on his own, without any help from his family of the Silent Brothers. He has to go with Jace as far as he can, and make sure that he is prepared for whatever may come next.

Unstrapping the double thigh holsters, he places them on the floor behind him. They’re empty. Alec has a vague memory of Jace’s seraph blade lying next to him where he fell. He will have to remember to ask someone to retrieve it before the ceremony. Jace should have his weapon with him, it is only right.

With trembling hands he unzips the torn leather jacket and tosses it to the side. The black t-shirt underneath is sticking to Jace’s body with drying blood. Alec doesn’t want to take any kind of blade to him, not after what happened. So he sits himself on the edge of the plinth and pulls Jace’s body up to meet his. With Jace’s head resting on his shoulders, Alec can gently ease the t-shirt up and finally off. With a supporting hand between the shoulder blades he brings the body back onto the stone surface, where Alec for a moment can almost believe he’s looking at someone sleeping, if it wasn’t for all the blood.

He fills a metal bowl with water, and dips a washcloth into it. With slow strokes he starts to clean the blood of Jace’s pale skin. He shudders a bit when he gets to the wound where the knife slipped between the ribs and into his heart. Alec has seen much worse, but this is different. This small, almost insignificant looking wound, is what tore his world apart in an instant. He bites back the tears, wrings red stained water from the cloth, and keeps going.

The last part of Jace’s torso to be wiped free of blood is his left side, and Alec notices that the parabatai rune is still etched into Jace’s skin. He lightly traces his fingers over the dark lines, while pressing his other hand to his own side, where he know there’s now only blank unmarred skin. He never thought about it before, but it makes sense for Jace to be keeping his while Alec’s rune fades. After all, Jace is the one that is taking a part of Alec with him in death. A big part.

Wrapping Jace’s body in the white mourning shroud is not an easy task. It is not meant to be done by a single person, but Alec will not call for aid. He takes his time and is careful to not jostle the body too much. He wraps and pulls and smooths any wrinkles in the pristine fabric. In a way it is soothing work. It lets him do something. Keeps him from fretting. Keeps him from breaking.

Finally, with a deep but shaking breath he pulls the fine linen over Jace’s face. His task is complete. And just before leaving Alec presses his right hand over Jace’s still heart, whispering the only words to come out of his mouth since Lake Lyn.

“If aught but death part thee and me…”

Alec closes the door to his office and sinks into a chair. He rubs his face. He can barely believe it — it’s over. Valentine is gone. The mortal instruments seem to have vanished into the lake forever. He will have to ask Clary about what actually happened later. But not now. Neither of them are ready to talk. Not about this. Tomorrow they will hold the Rite of Mourning, and Alec will recite Jace’s name with a clear voice. He will stand by his parabatai’s side one last time. Alec closes his eyes and leans back in the chair.

And he breaks.

[inyri]

end of the line

a SWTOR story about Cipher Nine. a story about Umbara.

(spoilers for update 5.4 and for Equivalent Exchange after the jump. consider yourself warned.)

end of the line

On the day he breaks her heart they have been married for half a year, plus five days.

Nine likes to imagine in the days that follow that the extra week was deliberate, that Theron wouldn’t have been so cruel as to choose a date with so much meaning for both of them-

Well. It meant a great deal to her. She isn’t sure what it means to him any more, and it’s stupid of her, really, to parse it in degrees of cruelty. Like he didn’t mean to hurt her.

You won’t feel a thing.

She wishes that had been true. A knife in her heart would have hurt less than this.

***

He hadn’t been himself for months, but she’d assumed at first it was because of Jace.

Force knows Theron and his father hadn’t been close, not for a long time- she remembers that awful fight, when Theron had gone to Coruscant; later on they’d sent him an invitation to the wedding but he never replied, not even to send regrets- but when Jace died on Iokath any hope of reconciliation went to the pyre with him. Satele had vanished again, too, gone without a trace. (He tried to call her: you have to, she’d said, you have to tell her; I’m sure she already knows, he’d replied, but did it anyway because she’d asked. Satele didn’t answer the first time, or the second, or the tenth.) It was the two of them together against everything, just as it always was, but something had changed.  

On the nights when she’d wake to find him out of bed, sitting on the couch and staring, silent, into the dark of their quarters, she would slip in behind him and wrap her arms around his shoulders, pull him back against her body; they would sit there, her fingers stroking slow along his arms, his face, until he closed his eyes and finally slept.

I’m sorry. I never meant for him to-

I know, he’d murmur against her chest. I know.

***

Was it ever enough, what they had? She’d thought so once. She’d thought-

(She doesn’t want to think about him anymore.

She can’t not think about him.)

***

It’s funny when she thinks about it.

(It isn’t funny.)

Theron seemed more like himself that morning than he had in a long time. When she woke he was still beside her, his breath steady on her neck, and she turned in his arms to kiss him awake; he opened his eyes and pulled her close, covered her mouth with his and her body with his, laced his fingers through hers in the way he knew she always liked, when he was above her-

Good morning to you, too, she’d grinned when they finished, and they lay together, breathless, amid the rumpled sheets.

He’d looked down at her, kissed her forehead. I love you. You know that, right?

I know, she’d said. I love you, too.

***

(It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t. It wasn’t, it can’t have been, she would have seen it, would have known-

Theron, why?)

***

Umbara.

It was everything she hated about the Republic wrapped in a layer of darkness, a veneer of respectability covering over a culture built on machinations and murder, vicious as the worst Sith. What would the Republic possibly want with so many Adegan crystals? She thinks she knows.

Iokath should have been enough of a lesson for all of them. Jace spoke of the superweapon with a gleam in his eye, like a child dreaming of a new toy; he died for wanting it and she’d nearly died trying to stop it.

It never ends, does it?

For all the lies that he told her, perhaps Theron was right about that after all.

***

“Ever since you defeated Valkorion, everything I've done has been towards one goal... the total destruction of the Eternal Alliance.”

She reels just as surely as if he’d slapped her. “You don’t mean that. After everything we accomplished together, all the work we put into the Alliance-”

“I do.” Theron folds his arms across his chest, a barrier between them as physical as the forcefield glowing red across the doorway. “I had so much hope- but it turned out just like the Republic, rotting from the inside out, and you've become a symbol of oppression. So much for your dreams of peace.”

No. No, no-

Her voice trembles, her tongue tripping over the words, one hand pressed to Lana’s throat- still breathing, get up, Lana, come on. “We promised each other no more secrets. Why didn’t you tell me if you were so unhappy? We could have changed things. We still can.”

“I believed that, once.” He shakes his head, turning away. “But it’s too late now. I can’t stop what’s already happening.”

“Damn it, look at me!” This can’t be real. This can’t possibly be real. She must be dreaming. Wake up. Wake up. “Even if I fall here that doesn’t solve anything. If you topple the Alliance, millions of people are going to die.”

The train’s starting to break apart now, so close to the end of the line, and it’s hard to hear him. “If that’s the cost of peace, so be it.”

She couldn’t have thought of something that sounded less like him. “Then answer something for me before you kill me, Theron. You owe me that much.”

Was it her imagination, or did he flinch?

“You said everything you’ve done since Valkorion’s defeat has been leading to this. Did that include marrying me?”

He doesn't answer.

“Tell me!”

“I love you,” he says. “You know that. But this is bigger than us.” She stumbles as the train rocks, and when she’s steady enough to look up again he’s moving toward the door. “Thirty seconds to impact. Goodbye, Nyr- Commander.”

(A fragment of her name, a slip of the tongue at the end of the line.

He was the only one who she ever let call her by her name.

He is the only one who she ever will.)

She almost just doesn't move, almost lets herself stay and be blown apart in the impact- maybe that’ll be what it takes to finally wake her up. (Is it true that if one dies in one’s dreams, one dies in the waking world? She’s never been brave enough to find out.) But Lana’s staggering on her feet, shouting in her ear over the metal-on-metal screaming of the train and maybe this isn’t a nightmare after all. If it’s real-

oh, Theron-

She jumps into flame and darkness.

***

She might have been offended, once, that he thought a train crash would have been enough to end her. He should have killed her while she slept. It would have been a surer thing.

But her grief is keener than her anger, sharper than her pain, surpassing anything else she might have felt- her left wrist is broken and she only knows it by the harsh alarming of the medscanner, her body bruised and her skin blistered and her eyes swollen with unshed tears.

(Open a channel for wide broadcast, she tells Lana as soon as she can speak again, before you start the search. I want to send Theron a message.

Are you sure? You- she can feel her eyes flick over her face as Lana chooses her words with extraordinary caution- you should rest. It can wait until morning, if-

She runs her tongue over her bottom lip, tasting blood. No. I want him to see what he did.)

She cuts off her hair in the medical bay on the Gravestone; there’s no saving it, not like after the carbonite when she was careful and with time it recovered from its brittle delicacy. This time it crumbles into ash in her hands when she lets it down. (There is a metaphor there, probably, but she’s too tired to think about it. He always loved her hair). Trauma shears serve well enough for now, and she crops it short around her ears until she barely recognizes the face looking back at her in the mirror.

When she comes out of kolto for the first time afterward the shears are gone, along with her knives and her rifle and all her poisons and, from the room they’d shared, Theron’s duffel bag.

She doesn’t ask Lana where she put them.

It’s better if she doesn’t know.

After the first day someone moves a kolto bath into her quarters. That, at least, is a mercy. She doesn’t have to see the rest of the crew looking at her, every damn person on this whole fucking ship, with pity in their eyes. She wants to scream at them. She wants to howl her loss until her lungs give out.

I never asked for this, but I never got a choice. I never wanted any of this, never wanted the power or the title or the fleets, never wanted the Emperor inside my head, never wanted another war. I wanted one thing, only one, and now he’s gone-

But she doesn’t. She sits silent in her quarters, turning her wedding band around and around on her finger, until Lana brings her in a plate of food.

The morning’s plate sits untouched on the table in front of her- has she moved since morning? She can’t remember. When Lana bends to set down the one she’s holding, she sees it too.

“Commander?”

She looks up. “I don’t want to hear that title ever again.”

“Nine.” Lana sighs. “When’s the last time you ate anything?”

She shrugs. It’s a good question. Kolto’s technically nutritive and the portable tub wouldn’t stop beeping until she’d spent the full six hours submerged in it last night, so- “Does it matter?”

Another sigh. “I know you’re-”

“You don’t.” She focuses back on the movement of her hands, the glint of the stones in the near-dark. “You don’t know. Get out.”

“I’m sorry,” Lana says after a moment. “I’m sorry that I failed you. I should have-”

Folding tighter in on herself- she can’t tuck her legs up against her chest, not with her arm still in a sling, so she slumps sideways against the pillows- she shakes her head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. You could have shown me every detail of his plan and I’d never have believed it.”

“And Theron knew that.”

Even hearing his name hurts, punching through the haze of the painkillers. “Of course he did. I loved-” (Past tense; the word sits in her mouth, dry as ashes on her tongue. Lying is in their blood, hers and Theron’s both, but there are lies and there are Lies. That is one of the latter, and she has had enough of those now to last a lifetime.) “I love him.” She shuts her eyes. “Even now. And I thought he loved me. Stars, I’m such an idiot.”

The couch shifts beneath her; when she opens her eyes again Lana’s seated, carefully avoiding touching her, at the edge of the cushion. “You’re not.”

“He wants me dead, if you hadn’t noticed. Maybe that passes for love among Sith, but-”

“He loves you,” Lana says quietly. “I don’t pretend to know what he’s thinking right now, but I can promise you that he loves you.”

“Don’t say that. He lied to me for months- years, maybe- he lied to my face-” her voice quavers. “He let me sit down in that chair on Iokath knowing it might kill me and then he kissed the burns when he changed my bandages. He- I-”

Hands balled into fists, she wants to hurt something so badly- but there’s no one here but Lana, hollow-eyed and pale beside her, and when, forgetful of her injuries, she lifts her hands to rub at her face, the sling tugs at her neck and a spike of anguish up her broken arm makes her whimper. She curls onto her side.

“I used to tease him,” she whispers into the pillow as Lana reaches toward her, one hand gentle against her back, “that I never knew how he managed all those years in the field. Even undercover, I could always look at him and tell exactly what he was thinking.” Her vision blurs, tears welling up despite herself; she shakes her head, trying to blink them away. “Now I know.”

She won’t cry, she won’t-

Her body is a traitor, too.

***

[That night she dreams of Hunter.

He stands over her- always he in her dreams, though she knows better in waking hours- flipping a vibroscalpel in one hand, up and down, up and down, blade glinting in the light of the swaying fluorescent lamp above them.

Well, Hunter says, I suppose we’d better get started. Hold out your hand.

She doesn’t.

Onomatophobia. Hold out your hand.

When she lifts her hand he presses the handle of the scalpel into it, folds her fingers closed. Raising her head, she shivers; the metal table beneath her’s cold against her back, straps pinning her left arm and tight across the width of her thighs, dark ink-lines on her skin tracing the lines of her collarbones, meeting between her breasts and then running lower, down along the saber scar and the flat expanse of her belly. A plastic tag, blank, circles one toe.

Oh.

I’m not dead, you know. Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?

You are, he says. It just hasn't sunk in yet. Don't worry. You won’t feel a thing.

His voice is-

She can still turn her head and when she looks Hunter’s face flickers, passing through a hundred permutations until it settles, finally, on one she knows as well as her own.

Onomatophobia. Theron bends down to kiss her forehead, his hands stroking her shorn hair, before he lifts her arm across her chest and lays the blade against her skin. We’ll begin, he says, with the heart.

He lied. It hurts. It hurts so much, and-]

She wakes up screaming.

Lana finds her a minute later, sitting in the ‘fresher beneath the running water, scrubbing invisible ink-lines from her body.

***

“I’ve diverted as many of our field operatives as I can,” Lana says, holding the datapad out toward her, “to looking for him. If we find Theron-”

“When.” There’s no room here for if. The only question she knows how to ask now is why.

“-when we find Theron, how would you like them to proceed?”

She reaches out toward it, scrawling her orders with one fingertip across the screen.

observe and report only all intel to be transmitted directly to Alliance Command DO NOT ENGAGE

(Despite everything he’s done, the only person she will let hurt him is her.)

***

The day before they return to Odessen, he sends her a message.

She almost deletes it. Whatever he has to say, part of her doesn’t want to hear it. Part of her doesn’t want to hear anything he has to say ever again.

Only a small part, though. Most of her needs to.

She opens it.

I saw your message on the Holonet, he writes. (Good. She imagines him watching it, wherever he is. Did it hurt, Theron?) I wish I could drop everything and leave with you, somewhere far from all this war and death. But that’s only a dream- reality is much harder.

It sounds more like him than any single word he said on Umbara. She keeps reading, even as the words blur together on the screen, until she reaches the end.

I don’t expect you to understand. However this ends, I need you to remember this: I loved you from the moment I saw you. I always will.

Another lie. A pretty lie, but a lie. How many times had they laughed about that moment? It was a good memory, bound up as it was with everything that happened afterward, all the way to Yavin and the scalding savage breathless want of those early days- but what they had wasn’t love, then. Love came after.

He knew that, too. Why make it into something false? She doesn’t understand.

(He doesn’t expect her to, he says. So generous of him.)

It ends there; she throws her datapad onto the bed in frustration, pacing back and forth along the floor of her quarters. They’ll be on Odessen soon enough. She’ll have to make a speech; despite their best efforts the news has gotten out already. If people were already doubting her leadership- Force, they’re going to lose allies over this.

She’s all the way across the room when the datapad chimes.

Decryption complete.

That’s odd. She runs decryption protocols on everything, ever since what happened to Keeper all those years ago, but Theron’s message wasn’t in any kind of code so far as she could tell. Unless-

Snatching it back up again, she scans through the message again, line by line. Nothing’s different, though, all the text the same with nothing changed until she reaches the very end and there’s a tiny fragment of an image embedded, hiding beneath-

Her hand shakes so violently that she drops the datapad.

Oh-

to be continued.

[shsummertimefest-blog]

Enjoy, @groundopenwide!

Peyton, I hope you enjoy the fic! Xx

“Hey, can I just get a rum and Coke please?” Simon leaned over the bar counter, drumming his fingers anxiously.

“Sure thing, boss. You look nervous.” Maia kept her eyes on him as she poured his drink. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve got a date.” His tone was one of surprise and disbelief. “I don’t know how or…why.”

Maia rolled her eyes affectionately, sliding his glass over to him. “Relax, Lewis. You’ll be totally fine. Your babbling is cute.”

“Great, now that you’ve put the idea in my head, I won’t be able to stop talking and thinking about the fact that I’m babbling!” He buried his face in his hands with a dramatic sigh. “I should just go, right? This is a bad idea.”

Simon started to stand but Maia was quicker, grabbing his wrist and tugging him back. “Chill out. What time is your person getting here?”

“Aiden. We agreed on 9:30. What if he stood me up?”

“Simon. Breathe. Have a drink. People are late sometimes.” With that, Maia went to serve another customer.

Trying to keep himself calm, Simon sipped at his drink, looking around nervously, waiting to see his date walk through the door. Ten minutes passed, and then twenty. Aiden hadn’t arrived. With a dejected sigh, Simon pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You’re an idiot, Lewis. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“I think you need something stronger.”

Simon looked up to see the pretty boy with the golden hair he’d noticed sitting in the corner with a group of friends. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been looking nervous for the last half hour. You need something stronger than that.” He flicked at the glass between Simon’s hands. He waved at Maia and she walked over to him with a smirk.

“Herondale. I should’ve known.” She wiped the counter in front of her and then set the bar rag down.

“Two tequila shots. His shot’s on me.” Jace jerked his thumb towards Simon.

“You okay?” She looked at Simon with a gentle expression, putting her hand over his.

“I can’t believe this. I mean, I can; I knew he wouldn’t show up. I should’ve just stayed home. I wanted to catch up on Voltron anyway. I could’ve been having the time of my young life not getting stood up.”

“On second thought, bring us four shots.” The boy, Herondale, Maia had called him, held up four fingers and then sat down next to Simon. “Your date didn’t show?”

Simon looked down at his hands.

“Hey, it happens, buddy. Here.” He took two of the shots Maia brought over and slid them towards Simon, moving his rum and Coke away. “Come on, chop chop.”

Simon downed them both then made a face. “God, this is horrible.”

“The forgetting is nice, though.” Herondale held out his hand. “I’m Jace.”

“Lewis. Simon Lewis.”

Jace rolled his eyes, but there was nothing but kindness in his expression. “Take it from someone who’s been through it all. It’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Well, at least that’ll balance out the puking.”

Maia brought by two more shots for each of them. “On the house.”

Simon downed them easier this time, and merely gritted his teeth at the burn. “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

Jace was about to respond when a hand on Simon’s shoulder pulled his attention away. “Simon, oh my god, I didn’t know you were meeting your date here!”

Clary. She was looking at him expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“Um—”

“Jace Herondale. Nice to meet you.” Jace was leaning around Simon, hand outstretched towards her.

“Hi, I’m Clary, Simon’s friend.” She gave him a warm smile, then diverted her attention back to Simon. “You didn’t tell me how gorgeous he is.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I didn’t know how it would go so I didn’t want to get carried away.” Simon gulped and looked at Jace, pleading for help.

In response, he tossed his arm over Simon’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb against his upper arm. “He doesn’t give himself enough credit. Do you?” Jace looked down at him lovingly, and Simon was frozen in place, trapped by those beautiful blue and brown eyes. Something so extraordinary was fitting for someone like Jace.

Simon laughed nervously and looked back at Clary. “What, um, what are you doing here, Fray? I thought you were going to dinner with Luke and Jocelyn?”

“Luke had to work late, so he said he would meet me here and then we’d go pick up my mom. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here. I don’t want to intrude on your date.”

“Actually, we were just about to go see a movie,” Jace interjected, tugging at Simon playfully. “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late.”

Simon stood up in a daze, plastered to Jace’s side. “Yeah, don’t want to be late,” he echoed.

“Oh, okay. Well then I’ll see you tomorrow, Simon. Tell me everything.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then sat down, starting up a conversation with Maia.

“Come on, cutie,” Jace teased, leading them out of the bar.

“Um, thank you. Seriously. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’d have to tell her I got stood up, and then she would have tried way too hard to talk about my feelings and stuff—”

“You can make it up to me by getting us pizza on you.” Jace put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, braced against the autumn breeze.

“Yeah, yeah of course! It’s the least I can do, right?”

They walked silently for a few blocks, shoulders nearly three feet from touching.

“So, you’re into dudes?” Jace ran a hand through his hair, letting it fall back over his forehead.

“I’m into…everyone, I guess. I’m a lone pan-da.” Simon looked over at Jace with an enormous, toothy grin, waiting for him to smile back, and who was Jace to refuse? It was endearing.

“Me too,” Jace admitted, gauging Simon’s reaction, which was simply a warm smile.

“Two lone pan-das!”

Jace suddenly stopped, looking at Simon with one eyebrow raised, disappearing beneath his hair. “Are you drunk?”

“Am I? I don’t know. I feel great, though! Warm inside, you know? Like the first time I drank champagne after my bar mitzvah. Clary snuck it out for me.”

“Clary. How long have you two known each other?”

“Since kindergarten. She saved my life,” Simon added offhandedly, grinning.

“A five year old saved your life?” Jace asked skeptically. Try as he might, a smile was imminent.

“Yeah, I had an allergic reaction and she ran for help. The rest is history.” Simon smiled, looking at the ground, deep in thought. “Her family is family to me too. They’re a second home.”

“It must be nice to have all of that love in your life.”

Simon glanced over at Jace, worried at the tense set of his jaw. “What about your family?”

“I was orphaned when I was a little kid. I got adopted into another family, and they’ve been good to me. I got two brothers and a sister out of it too.”

“But it’s not the same?”

Jace pursed his lips and looked away. “Come on, this way.”

*          *          *          *

“All right, tell me everything.” Clary held out Simon’s biscotti and coffee.

He took them and followed her as they walked through the city. “It was…great. He showed up late which had me worried at first. But when he showed up, it didn’t really even matter anymore.” Simon admittedly felt guilty, lying to his best friend, but he was in too deep to set the lie right. And hanging out with Jace was date-ish. “We went to the movie and then went to get pizza.” It’s still a half truth, Simon reminded himself, trying to stave off the shame.

“Just your style! That’s great!” Clary’s enthusiasm twisted the knife a bit. “He’s just your type too, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Simon admitted, taking a bite of his biscotti.

Clary laughed, squeezing Simon’s arm affectionately. “I think you’re thinking too much, Simon. You like him, he sounds great, and you guys had an amazing time.”

Simon made a noncommittal sound.

“Hey.” She stopped him in his tracks. “Don’t make me do the Dracula stare.”

Simon laughed, nudging his shoulder against hers as they parted ways for their classes.

That night, Clary called to suggest they go to the bowling alley. “And bring Jace!”

Simon choked on his own spit, taking off his glasses to rub at his watering eyes. “What?”

“Invite Jace! Come on, you know you want to.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. Let me call him and I’ll let you know.” After Simon hung up, he tossed his phone between his hands. He didn’t have Jace’s number, so this could go one of two ways. He could call Maia and she if she knew his number, since she seemed to be friends with him, or he could lie and tell Clary that he was unavailable. The latter seemed best.

When he arrived at the bowling alley, Clary was waiting for him at the counter, checking her phone. “Hey, Fray.” He gave her a hug and shrugged out of his coat.

“Hey, where’s Jace?” She seemed disappointed.

Oh man, Simon thought, I’ve really stuck my foot in it this time. “He said he was busy tonight, but he told me to say thanks for the invitation.”

“Next time, then. Make sure he’s free!” She poked him insistently.

After they had their shoes and lane, they went to pick out a ball. Simon was aimlessly walking up and down the rows, testing some as he went, when he bumped into someone. “Oh, hey, sorry.”

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Lewis.”

Simon looked up and immediately felt his face get got. “J-Jace. What are you doing here?”

“It’s bowling night with my siblings.” Jace looked highly amused and Simon was trying his best not to get distracted by how pretty he looked with that smile on his face. “What are you doing?”

“Clary and I… She asked me to invite you to come with us and I didn’t have your number and I didn’t want to drag you into this any more than you already are so I just told her you were busy.”

Jace just looked at him for a moment. “Well that’s interesting.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned in closer. “What do you suggest we do about this?”

“Um…um? We could just pretend like we never saw each other?”

“Is that what you’d prefer, Simon?” It was intentioned as a joke, but there was an edge of something else, something vulnerable.

“Let’s go tell Clary we happened to run into each other,” Simon decided.

“So now we’re telling the truth?”

“About this? Yes. About you being my fake date? Absolutely not.”

“I don’t think she’d care, Simon.”

“Well we’re in too deep now, Jace!” Simon exclaimed with exasperation. “Come on.” He tugged Jace by the wrist over to the lane he had with Clary. “Hey, look who I found.”

Clary turned around to look at Simon with a smile but when she saw Jace, her eyes went wide. “Woah, Jace! Hey! I thought you were busy tonight?”

“Yeah, it’s bowling night with my brothers and sister. Small world.” He winked at Simon then craned his neck to look over at the lane a few down from them. “There they are.” He waved at them until the tallest boy noticed them and grabbed the other two.

“Oh, you don’t have to interrupt your game for us—”

“Alec, Izzy! This is Simon, my date the other night.”

The tall boy with the dark hair, Alec, was smirking in a way that convinced Simon he knew what was going on, even if he said nothing. The girl, Izzy, was very forward about being in on the secret, laughing and holding her hand out. “He’s cute.”

Simon shook her hand nervously.

“This is Max, my youngest brother.” Jace had his hands on the shoulders of a young boy who looked at Simon with confusion.

“A date? I didn’t know you had a date.”

“I don’t tell you everything.” Jace ruffled his hair playfully.

“And who is this?” Izzy purred, moving closer to Clary.

“Clary Fray. Hi.” She smiled brightly at all of them.

“Izzy, or Isabelle.” Izzy looped her arm through Clary’s and guided them over to the chairs. Alec grabbed Max and took him over to the food stand. Simon and Jace were alone again.

“I think that went well, don’t you?” Jace leaned against the table, smirking at Simon.

“That’s—I’m just—We got lucky!”

“Are you ashamed of me?” Jace gasped.

“No, no of course not. You’re gorgeous but—”

“Aww,” Jace teased, leaning in closer. “You think I’m gorgeous.”

“So what? It’s not like we’re actually dating or—”

“What happens if I ask you to get a drink with me sometime? Is that a date? Or just bros being bros?”

“What?” Simon was completely taken aback by such an offer from someone like Jace. He didn’t seem the type to like the geeky, socially awkward guys.

“Let me buy you a drink sometime. A real date. Then you won’t have to lie to your friend, and I get five dollars each from Alec and Izzy.”

“I—What? You placed bets on me?”

“I was the one who believed you didn’t need the feather to fly, Dumbo. Remember that. Alec and Izzy were the ones who doubted.”

“You’re actually asking me out? Not a joke?”

Jace raised an eyebrow at him. “Wow, you really do doubt yourself, don’t you? Don’t make me regret this.” He rolled his eyes playfully.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll get a drink with you. Sure. Cool. When?”

“How about Friday night? Hunter’s Moon at nine.”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll be there.”

“And Simon?”

“Yeah?”

“If you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask.” He grabbed Simon’s hand and pulled out a sharpie from his back pocket, scrawling his number on the underside of Simon’s forearm.

By the time Friday came around, Simon had sufficiently worried himself into a panic attack. He couldn’t tell anyone why because then they would know the truth about the fake date and getting stood up. None of those were highlights on Simon’s list of experiences.

Clary thought it was just his nerves; that he was really into this guy and that was making him lose his mind. “He likes you, Simon, don’t worry. He wouldn’t have asked you out again if he didn’t. You’re just being paranoid.” She smoothed out his shirt one last time before smiling up at him. “Izzy told me Jace is really into you. That he couldn’t wait to ask you out again. Now, go. Have a good time.”

Simon decided to take the bus instead of walking, so he was again early to his date. Maia smiled at him as soon as he walked in.

“What can I get you? More shots?”

“No, just a beer please.”

“Make that two.” Jace dropped down onto the stool next to Simon’s and winked at him. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Yeah, good, you know. Not much—good, yeah.”

Jace smiled, shaking his head. His hair fell into his eyes slowly, some falling across his nose. “Me too.”

“Clary told me that Izzy said you were really into me and couldn’t wait to ask me out again.” Simon smiled shyly at Jace, guarding himself.

“My sister is good at a lot of things, but she hasn’t quite mastered keeping her nose out of other people’s business.”

“Yeah?” There was a hopeful look on Simon’s face.

“It’ll drive you crazy.” When Maia set down their drinks, Jace tapped his against Simon’s before taking a swig.

“So is this, like, for real?”

Suddenly, Jace grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him. Simon was shocked, but the feeling was better than anything he could remember. Jace’s lips were soft, for one, and his soft blond hair was tickling Simon’s cheek. The hands holding Simon’s face were rough and strong, and the touch sent what felt like a spark of electricity down his spine.

They separated gently, still close enough that their noses were almost brushing. “Convinced?” Jace asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m into you. So let me buy you a drink.”

[wolfypuppypiles]

Love, Hope, and Misery Chap 2

A portal tore the air apart and Magnus fell through, looking ruffled and panicked as Izzy had ever seen him. He was far from the calm and collected he usually was.

“Have you tracked him? Where is he?”

Izzy nodded, she’d used one of her brother’s shirts to track him and gotten a location a few blocks from where he’d been snatched.

“Yes, but we need to hurry; the other shadowhunters were killed within a few hours of going missing and we still don’t know who’s taking them.”

Magnus shook his head, looking sick as he presented Alec’s bow and quiver.

“I found these not far from my apartment. There was blood on the ground with them, some of it was Alec’s but there was also blood belonging to a seelie.”

Izzy was about to say something else when Jace suddenly let out a scream, one of agony and terror so deep that it made Izzy shiver, and the whole institute go quiet.

“Alec!”

The blonde pressed a hand to his Parabatai rune as his knees buckled, almost sending him to the ground. He leant heavily against a table as Magnus and Isabelle lent their hands to keep him standing.

“What is it? Jace, what’s happening?”

He gasped, eyes wide with fear as he tried to speak through the pain, tears flowing down his cheeks.

“They’re hurting him, his runes are being cut out. Izzy, it hurts so bad, we have to find him.”

Magnus dropped his boyfriend’s weapons and clicked his fingers as he summoned another portal. Izzy wrapped one of Jace’s arms around her shoulders and lead the way, Magnus following close behind.

…………………………………

Alec screamed and tried to allow himself to pass out, as the seelie cut his side in an arc, savouring her task.

It was an agony he’d never experienced before, and it was all consuming. He felt the blade split his skin, and separate it from his body. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling at his restraints, yanking hard as he could, but the pain of his wrists cutting on the leather was a drop in the ocean compared to what the seelie was doing.

He begged her to stop, begged for Magnus to save him, begged every angel he could think of, to just let him die so that he wouldn’t have to hurt anymore. But the pain continued and all he could do was scream.

He was so thoroughly blinded by the pain that he didn’t even notice the portal appearing in the room, or the people that spilled out of it. All he knew what that the knife was out of him and the seelie was grabbing a bigger one. He blinked his pain blurred eyes but she wasn’t looking at him. She looked angry and someone was shouting though her lips didn’t move.

He begged her to stop, gasping through his words.

“Please stop, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, just don’t hurt me anymore. And don’t hurt Jace, it wasn’t his fault.”

There was more shouting and then more pain and then all he could see were those beautiful eyes that he’d fallen in love with not so long ago.

…………………………………

Magnus closed the portal behind him and ignited red flames in his hands, curling the magic into balls of concentrated power that he could throw at the seelie girl standing over his boyfriend.

Jace groaned in pain but drew his seraph blade and tried to stand on his shaky legs, feeling sick at the blood pouring from his brother’s side. Izzy let go of the blonde, taking out her own blade as she tried to focus on the threat and not the pool of red on the ground.

The seelie dropped the blade she was holding and picked up a larger one, holding it over her victim’s chest as a threat. Magnus aimed his palms towards her and took a step forward, halting his movement when the seelie jerked the knife closer to Alec’s chest.

“Drop the knife!”

The girl did no such thing, eyeing the three with contempt as Alec mumbled out pleas. Her eyes found Jace and she smiled in a horrid, anguished way that made Jace’s stomach twist with worry.

“You killed my brother, Shadowhunter, now I’m going to kill yours.”

Izzy let out a yell as Magnus gave another warning.

“No!”

“Drop the knife, or I will kill you!”

But that knife came down with a savage thrust, and buried itself up to the hilt in Alec’s chest.

Jace and Alec screamed in sync as Magnus threw two balls of magic at the seelie, hitting her in the chest and sending her crashing into the wall behind her, before she slumped to the cold ground, dead.

Izzy sprinted towards Alec as Jace crumpled to the floor in pain.

“Alec! By the angel, Magnus, help me.”

The knife was sticking up out of the Nephilim, as he gasped and choked on the blood filling his mouth. Magnus quickly dragged Jace over to the table that his brother was strapped to, and sat him on a stool before taking in the damage.

There was a cut on Alec’s side, about six inches long, as well as deep bruising across his ribs and cheek. And then of course there was the knife sticking out of him.

Magnus could barely stand to look at his loves face, knowing it would be too hard to concentrate on what he needed to, but the shadowhunter was struggling in his restraints and trying to speak as he looked desperately at his warlock.

“M..gnus.” He was choking on his own blood, suffocating, and still trying to get Magnus to look at him. Jace groaned from his seat and took Alec’s hand in his, feeling everything his brother did.

“He’s scared. Magnus, please, talk to him.”

Jace could feel not only the pain and fear, but the longing that Alec had to talk to his boyfriend. He wanted to say sorry for their fight, to tell him he loved him, but all that came out was gasps and coughs.

Magnus tore his eyes away from the bloody mess, as Isabelle began stabilizing the knife and wrapping pieces of Alec’s ruined shirt over his wounds. Magnus brushed Alec’s hair back and tried to sound calm as he met his eyes.

“I’m here love. Everything’s going to be okay, just stay still and try not to speak. We got you, it’s all right.”

The Nephilim forced his words out, tears spilling from his eyes.

“..’m sorry.” He heaved for breath, barely able to get enough air in, and every effort he took only caused more pain. It was if someone was sitting on his chest, and it hurt so badly but he had to tell Magnus, had to make it right.

The warlock offered a wobbly smile and stroked Alec’s cheek with warm fingers.

“Shhh, darling. It’s all alright now. I love you.” He pressed a kiss to Alec’s forehead and tried not to think about how likely it was, that this was the last time he’d be able to say it.

Alec tried to reply but only coughed instead, scrunching his eyes shut at the pain, and pulling at the restraints once more, hoping that they’d be undone.

Jace moved forward to untie the straps holding Alec’s wrists down, but Izzy stopped him.

“I know it sounds awful, but they have to stay on for now. He has a tension pneumothorax and I need to drain and re-inflate his lung or he won’t be able to breathe. It’s going to hurt and I can’t have him moving while I do it.”

Her hands were already coated in red, carefully pressing down on the makeshift bandages around the knife. She used one hand to press Jace’s palms to the pieces of shirt covering the other cut.

“Jace hold this and keep pressure on it, try to talk to Alec and keep him calm. Magnus, I need you to try and stop the bleeding as much as you can. Focus on this knife wound for now, and heal it from the inside; I need to be able to remove the knife without him losing too much blood, so that I can work on the lung. Can you do that?”

Magnus nodded and tried to focus as he held his hands over the knife. Healing wasn’t as easy as clicking your fingers and muttering a spell, although many thought that was all it was. No, healing took patience and practice and skill, all of which Mangus had, but what he didn’t have was time. Healing with magic was as delicate as a doctor healing with tools. Magnus had to find the damage and the best way to fix it, and then concentrate and summon his magic to the parts that needed healing.

He had his eyes closed as he led his magic through Alec’s wound, searching for damage that may have to be fixed quicker. He sealed off blood vessels and healed the veins and muscle that he could, with the knife still inside, slowing the bleeding down.

Izzy’s quiet voice drifted into his awareness. “Did it hit his pulmonary artery?” She knew that if it had, they’d have to seal it or Alec would die very quickly.

Magnus shook his head, fingers curling and uncurling as he commanded his magic. “No, but the knife’s in his lung and blood is filling it.”

Izzy nodded and bit her lip anxiously. “Okay, stop the bleeding as much as you can and keep doing it when I take the knife out. I need to get supplies, Jace hold this.”

Jace had been muttering reassurances to his brother but stopped momentarily to hold the bandages around the knife as Izzy went to fetch what she needed.

She was lucky the seelie liked her medical tools, albeit for the use of torture, because she found needles and towels nearby. She grabbed both and turned back, only for her feet to falter. When it was up close, with her hands and mind focused on what she needed to do, it was easier to concentrate. But now, looking at her big brother strapped to a table and crying, begging for the pain to stop, she couldn’t be impartial. She had Alec’s blood on her hands and on her clothes and his whimpers and choked, gasps of pain filled the room, making it hard for her to concentrate.

She needed to be strong and focus. She needed to save him. The shadowhunter shook her head, as if to clear it, and took her tools back to the tray beside the table.

“Okay, I’ll use the needle to suck the air out of his chest and drain and the blood, while Magnus stops the bleeding and heals the wound. Jace keep pressure on that cut and keep Alec calm, we can’t have him moving.” She was back in control.

She whispered a small apology to her brother and prayed to all the angels she knew the names of, as she prepared to torture her brother. She knew it was to save him but that didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m so, so sorry Alec.”

This was really going to suck.

(chapter 3 is up and There will be more! This as well as the first and third chapter and all my other fics can be found on Ao3 and fanfictrion.net using the same author name as my url on here or through the links on my blogs)

[naturegirl16]

Not Gonna Give Up

Summary: Y/N is hands down the 100’s best fighter.  That’s precisely why Anya decided to take her.  So here Y/N is, sitting in a cave miles from camp.  But she’s not gonna give up.

Word Count: almost 1800

How was I going to get out of this? I had to warn them that they were attacking soon. I'm sure they've realized I'm gone and probably realized I was taken by Grounders. I'm sure they've decided I was as good as dead. I don't mind. I'm going down fighting. Scratch that. I'm not going down…yet at least. I would get back to them and warn them.

There was only one Grounder watching me. Maybe I could take him.

He was giving me a look. "You wanna say something?" I asked, looking at him.

I struggled to my feet, since my wrists were tied together, and pretended to wander around aimlessly first. I looked around the bare room. It had a chair but that was really all there was. The rest of the room was blank.

I began to make my way over to him. I slowly walked closer and closer. He didn't move, didn't even look at me.

I quickly grabbed the sword I’d seen in his jacket and pulled back. The Grounder went to stop me but I kicked at his knee.  It buckled and he fell to the ground.  As fast as I could, I stabbed him straight in the heart. He’d, hopefully, bleed out quickly. And he did.  He didn’t even make a sound.

As fast as I could, I took his jacket, armor, mask, gloves and a couple of his weapons. I put the stuff on and ducked out of the room. There were a lot of different tunnels and I honestly had no idea where they were leading.

But I finally made it outside.

And that's where my luck ran out.

At least a hundred Grounders were out here. They were all dressed for combat. And they were all standing perfectly still, looking up at Anya, who was talking. There was no way that I would be able to sneak past them. They'd know something was up if I started moving.

"The girl is missing," she said. "The boy is dead by now but she has escaped. Keep your eyes open for her but we will stick to the plan and march on the invaders camp at first light."

She then said something in their language. I have no idea what it was but everyone starting chanting and pumping their fists. I copied their actions and prayed. I was happy the mask covered my mouth so they couldn't tell I wasn't saying anything.

Then they started marching. I had no choice. Someone bumped into me and I had to walk forward.

We walked for a couple hours. There was no way for me to just walk away. I kept trying to get near the back but the person behind me would bump into me and make me walk faster. I couldn't just wander off. I had to follow.

We found Clarke at some point. She was chained up and dragged along. I wanted to do something but killing myself is not going to help her.

They stopped for camp and Anya instructed Grounders to go different ways. I didn't know where I was supposed to go. The majority of them walked over to form a group. I walked over there, hoping I could somehow escape.

I was pulled away before I got to the group. I was pushed into the woods a little and pushed up against a tree. The Grounder put his finger to where I assume his mouth is supposed to be. He had a mask on so I couldn't be sure.

He pulled off his mask.

He was a guy about my age. He had a little bit longer straight dark brown hair. He was tanned but it was hard to tell in the moonlight. His piercing green eyes stared right into mine.

"Wh-"

"Not yet," he hissed.

I still had on my mask so he couldn't exactly cover my mouth.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me even farther from the group. We were about five minutes away from camp by the time he stopped and pushed me against another tree.

"Your camp is that way," he said, pointing off into the woods. "You should be able to reach the camp by dawn if you leave now. We'll camp for the night but you need to run through the night. Scouts will be there midday tomorrow but the entire army won't be there until nightfall. You need to be gone before the scouts come or fight them off. You won't win this war."

"Thanks," I spit. I was mad that he underestimated us. We would win. Somehow.

I paused. Wait. He was just going to let me go?

I pushed him off of me and ripped my mask off.

"Why are you even helping me?"

"We can't just all kill each other," he said, swallowing.

"So why are you with them?"

"You do as you're told or you get killed," he said.

"Thank you," I whispered. I paused. He saved my life and I didn't even know his name.

"Jace," he said with a small nod. Was that a smile?

"Y/N," I said with a smile. "Thank you, Jace."

"Go," he said, glancing back at camp. "Go now and don't stop running."

I nodded and took off. I didn't look back.

For hours, I switched between running and jogging. At one point, I took off the Grounder's stuff. It was just weighing me down. I had to get there. And it had to be before the scouts.

That wasn't going to happen.

I was captured again an hour after dawn. Anya must not want to kill me yet, which is incredibly stupid on her part.

The Grounder had come up behind me. I heard it coming and tried to change course. But there's only so much you can do when he's on a horse. I should have kept the Grounder stuff on.

He hit me from behind and I fell. I was conscious but only for a minute. He chained my hands together and made me walk behind the horse. We started back to camp.

I did not run through the woods for hours just to be captured again. I was not going back there.

For maybe half an hour, I followed. I wanted to save up some energy for what I had to do next. Especially because once I'm free, I had to run again. I acted weak. I acted like I could barely walk. That was a lie.

I fell to my knees and prayed he'd stop. I almost smiled when he did. That could have gone very wrong. I could have been dragged through the woods. That would not have been fun.

He walked over to me and stopped in front of me. I swept my legs behind his, knocking him to the ground. I jumped on him and smashed a rock on his head three times. He was unconscious, maybe dead. I didn't know for sure. One more hit and I'm pretty sure he's dead.

I dressed in his clothes and climbed onto the horse.

I had never ridden a horse and hadn't read much about them. I honestly just held on and hoped the horse somehow knew where to go.

There was a rope that I could pull. The horse seemed to follow the way I pulled it so I could kind of steer. But it's not like I really knew where I was going.

I started recognizing the woods around me. I think I was near the waterfall. I'm hoping I was near the waterfall.

It was nearing midmorning. How far away was the Grounder camp? I'd always thought it was closer than that.

There was the waterfall. I was almost home. By horse, it'd take half the time.

Or no time at all.

I emerged from a group of trees and quickly pulled my horse to a stop. I just pulled on the reins and hoped it stopped.

I gasped when I saw a Grounder.

He had just thrown something. I could hear screaming not far away. Glancing up, I saw everyone running away.

But I couldn't worry about them.

The Grounder turned to look at me. He said something but I had no idea what it was. And he knew I wasn't a Grounder.

He turned to grab something else to kill me with. I was faster. I grabbed a sword that had been attached to the horse. I unsheathed it and snapped the reins so the horse would run. I love how easy this horse was to control.

The Grounder's neck was hidden by his armor and his mask. But the side of his head was bare. So that's where my sword went and I left it there.

I hoped he was the only one. But I'm guessing he was one of the scouts Jace had been talking about. There were bound to be more which was why I had to get away fast. I had to hurry back to camp.

Well, that was the plan.

A sharp pain in my side and a force knocked me from the horse. I was lucky enough to land in a bush and not on rocks. But the horse was gone now. I would have to run back. And what was that pain?

I glanced down and gasped. Great. A knife was sticking out of my side, just under my ribcage. It didn't hurt at the moment, which is actually concerning. But it was a concern for another time.

I grabbed out a knife from its slot on the armor. I needed to be prepared for the scout coming back to me.

I slowly pushed to my feet and looked around. The horse was gone. The Grounder I'd killed was lying on the ground a little farther back. Where was the one that hit me?

I didn't stick around to find out. I ran.

At least I thought before I got to the gate. They were looking for any movement. They were most likely going to shoot first and ask questions later.

The foxholes and tunnels were an option. I was just praying they weren't coming out of them.

I didn't stop running. I ducked into the foxhole and followed the path to the gate. I couldn't help but smile when I finally made it.

That smile vanished quickly when guns were pointed in my face. I dropped the knife.

"It's Y/N," I tried to say. The mask was muffling the sound. I quickly reached up with one hand and pulled off the mask, holding my other hand up so they wouldn't think I was reaching for a weapon. "It's Y/N," I repeated when it was off.

[ishiireviewer]

RATING: 4/5

REVIEW:

I’m so glad I gave this a chance. I had DNF’d it a few months ago because I found it to be boring But this time around, I found it really interesting. And after quitting The Infernal Devices, reading this book was such a relief because I had almost written off the author. But City Of Bones was really cool and interesting.

I loved how intricate the shadowhunter world was. The characters were pretty amazing and unique. And basically, the book kept me hooked. It was a page-turner.

Can’t wait to get on with the sequel.

ANNOTATIONS:-

1. “Meanwhile,” Simon added, “I wanted to tell you that lately I’ve been cross-dressing. Also, I’m sleeping with your mom. I thought you should know

2. Clary stared at him, then looked behind her, where Jace, Isabelle, and Alec stood, Jace still in his bloody shirt with the knife in his hand. He grinned at her and dropped a half-apologetic, half-mocking shrug. Clearly he wasn’t surprised that neither Simon nor the bouncer could see them.

3. Jesus!” Luke exclaimed. “Actually, it’s just me,” said Simon. “Although I’ve been told the resemblance is startling.” He waved at Clary from the doorway. “You ready? (haha. Goofy)

4. Did he?” asked Clary. “Tell me, is he always really rude, or does he save that for mundanes?” “Oh, he’s rude to everyone,” said Isabelle airily. “It’s what makes him so damn sexy. That, and he’s killed more demons than anyone else his age.” (Overselling the main lead. -.-)

5. I’m not your father, Clary. I’ve told you that before.” Tears burned the backs of her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just—” “Don’t call me for favors again,” he said. “I’ve got my own problems; I don’t need to be bothered with yours,” he added, and hung up the phone (Aww. I feel bad for her)

6. I don’t want tea,” said Clary, with muffled force. “I want to find my mother. And then I want to find out who took her in the first place, and I want to kill them.” “Unfortunately,” said Hodge, “we’re all out of bitter revenge at the moment, so it’s either tea or nothing.

7. She’d never before known anyone who carried a handkerchief (Jesse de silva)

8. (Idk why I found this boring. It’s interesting. And I’m really enjoying reading it. It’s almost unputdownable)

9. There must have been something in her voice, because he turned to look at her. Her hand cracked across his face, a slap that rocked him back on his heels. He put his hand to his cheek, more in surprise than pain. “What the hell was that for?” “The other ten percent,” she said, and they rode the rest of the way down to the street in silence (Hahaha. Badass)

10. Haven’t you ever heard that modesty is an attractive trait?” “Only from ugly people,” Jace confided. “The meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited. Like me.” He winked at the girls, who giggled and hid behind their hair.

11. Madame Dorothea shot him a dark look. “If you were half as funny as you thought you were, my boy, you’d be twice as funny as you are.” She disappeared back through the curtain, her loud “Hmph!” nearly drowned out by rattling beads. Jace frowned. “I’m not quite sure what she meant by that.” “Really,” said Clary. “It made perfect sense to me.” She marched through the bead curtain before he could reply

12. For the devil has no power,” said Dorothea softly, as if she were reciting an old rhyme, “except in the dark

13. Not necessarily. The most terrible things men do, they do in the name of love,” said Madame Dorothea, her eyes gleaming. “But it is a powerful card

14. Anything’ is such a general word, so unspecific,” said Pangborn, sounding melancholy. “Surely someone who owns so many books must know something

15. The moon hung like a locket over the city, casting pearly reflections on the water of the East River

16. Sometimes, when Jocelyn was really angry about something or was in one of her upset moods, she would get what Clary called “scary-calm.” It was a calm that made Clary think of the deceptive hard sheen of ice just before it cracked under your weight. Jace was scary-calm.

17. That’s sort of hot,” Isabelle argued, “that evil thing.” Simon tried to look menacing, but gave it up when he saw Clary staring at him. “So why does Valentine want this Cup so bad, and why does he think Clary’s mom has it?” he asked.

18. Silence itself seemed to flow from him like a dark tide, black and thick as ink

19. Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt,” she told him

20. Something about Jace sharpened him, brought him into focus. If she were going to draw them together, she thought, she would make Jace a little blurry, while Alec stood out, all sharp, clear planes and angles

21. She looked up from closing it to find Jace watching her through hooded eyes. “And one last thing,” he said. He reached over and pulled the sparkling pins out of her hair, so that it fell in warm and heavy curls down her neck. The sensation of hair tickling her bare skin was unfamiliar and oddly pleasant. “Much better,” he said, and she thought this time that maybe his voice was slightly uneven too. (Hot and sweet)

22. Last time I left you alone, a demon attacked you,” he pointed out. “Well, I’d certainly hate to interrupt your pleasant night stroll with my sudden death.

23. .” Magnus exhaled irritably. “As Oscar Wilde once said, ‘To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose both seems like carelessness.’” Clary heard Jace make a small hissing sound, like air being sucked

24. Who cares about the stupid Law?” Clary screamed, grabbing hold of Isabelle’s wrist. “My best friend is a rat!”

25. Don’t bother,” Jace said. “Why mundanes always insist on taking responsibility for things that aren’t their fault is a mystery to me. You didn’t force that cocktail down his idiotic throat.”

26. What welcome?” Magnus asked. “I’d say it was a pleasure to meet you, but it wasn’t. Not that you aren’t all fairly charming, and as for you—” He dropped a glittery wink at Alec, who looked astounded. “Call me?”

27. that I hadn’t stopped believing in God. I’d just stopped believing God cared. There might be a God, Clary, and there might not, but I don’t think it matters. Either way, we’re on our own

28. Clary wondered if there were any ugly vampires, or maybe any fat ones. Maybe they didn’t make vampires out of ugly people. Or maybe ugly people just didn’t want to live forever

29. You’ve endangered other people with your willfulness. This is one incident I will not allow you to shrug off!” “I wasn’t planning to,” Jace said. “I can’t shrug anything off. My shoulder’s dislocated

30. Of course,” he said, without arrogance or pretension, “but I always thought that was the way things were, with us. You know.” She scrambled around to face him, puzzled. “What do you mean?” “I mean,” said Simon, as if he were surprised to find himself explaining something that should have been obvious, “I’ve always been the one who needed you more than you needed me.” “That’s not true.” Clary was appalled. “It is,” Simon said with the same unnerving calm. “You’ve never seemed to really need anyone, Clary. You’ve always been so … contained. All you’ve ever needed is your pencils and your imaginary worlds. So many times I’ve had to say things six, seven times before you’d even respond, you were so far away. And then you’d turn to me and smile that funny smile, and I’d know you’d forgotten all about me and just remembered—but I was never mad at you. Half of your attention is better than all of anyone else’s. (How sweet of him!!)

31. Here’ as in your bedroom or ‘here’ as in the great spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you’re asking whether it’s all just a cosmic coincidence or there’s a greater metaethical purpose to life, well, that’s a puzzler for the ages. I mean, simple ontological reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but—”

32. “Just kissing?” Jace’s tone mocked her with its false hurt. “How swiftly you dismiss our love.”

33. Where there is feeling that is not requited,” said Hodge, “there is an imbalance of power. It is an imbalance that is easy to exploit, but it is not a wise course. Where there is love, there is often also hate. They can exist side by side

34. Hugin,” Luke said softly. “Hugin and Munin were Valentine’s pet birds. Their names mean ‘Thought’ and ‘Memory.’” “Well, they should mean ‘Attack’ and ‘Kill,’” said Clary. “Hugo almost tore my eyes out.

35. At last Jace looked at her. She saw the disbelief plain in his eyes, and around his eyes, the strain of maintaining that disbelief. She could see, almost as if she saw through a glamour, the fragile construct of his faith in his father that he wore like a transparent armor, protecting him from the truth. Somewhere, she thought, there was a chink in that armor; somewhere, if she could find the right words, it could be breached. “That’s ridiculous,” he said. “I didn’t die—there weren’t any bones.