#yeah its hodge jerking him off

[sunlaire]

I like when he cries 🩷

[normal-thoughts-official]

I'm ignoring my responsibilities in favor of watching the All Malec Moments video compilation so get ready for a livewatch no one asked for

Hodge is so incredibly wrong about everything he says about Magnus and it's kind of impressive because all he says is heavily supported by the Clave's files, which. Is proof of how great Magnus is at manipulating them and having them think exactly what he wants them to, tbh. Especially considering that as much as Magnus closes off emotionally, he was always very caring and kind to all other downworlders and warlocks, like, they all know they can trust him, he was named HWoB, he has a thousand kids, he took them all into hiding, etc. But the Clave and circle members are still 100% sure he's a super greedy lothario who's good for nothing but partying, and like. Obviously it's because they racist but they have an intelligence system and a file full of pictures and information and it all seems to support what Hodge is saying about him. So like Magnus was quite literally living a double life, with a whole personality he put up for shadowhunters and enemies, and another for his allies and friends, and even that one isnt 100% him because he was still trying to protect himself by closing himself off from relationships. and thats fucking impressive like my man is so smart i love him

Their first official talk is so funny magnus literally goes "I'm magnus" and Alec goes "Alec" and then he smiles and then he just goes. "Oh yeah right we should uh we should go to the hmm youhavebeautifuleyes what's it called hm" and its hilarious because they exchanged three (3) words and Alec is already all lost because Magnus is just That Beautiful. also all Magnus has to do is introduce himself and Alec smiles for the first time in 4 episodes like bro. bro. seriously. help him

he's SO frustrated when Alec doesn't get the "i love a dirty lair" flirt like he does that little eyebrow raise and hes just like "what the hell i thought that was GOOD" but Alec's head is legit playing wii music

Magnus pays izzy for "defending the warlocks" i had forgotten about that and it makes me so soft ;-;

Magnus and Izzy were just vibing with magnus asking her what presents Alec likes and clary immediately interrupts to ask about the memory demon like homophobic from day one i guess

Magnus is positively impressed by the way Clary goes "I'll do anything to save my mother" you can see how much he values loyalty right then have i mentioned that i love him

we talk about the "I'm talking to you" part a lot but we never mention how Magnus just throws that one and yeets off with clary not even waiting for a reaction he's just like that's RIGHT bitch you have beautiful hazel eyes too! do with that what you will i am now summoning a demon goodbye forever

the second him and Clary are away from the rest he tells her not to trust anyone and to be careful, like... ugh he cares so much it's unreal and again very deliberate, flirt a little, give izzy a necklace, throw in some innuendos, make it seem like it's all very innocuous so no one bothers to follow them or listen in when he goes away with Clary alone, and then immediately warn her about the clave when he gets away from the others. like he cares so much and he's so good at keeping that visible only for those he wants to it's astounding, my man is so talented and i hate that he had to learn to do that to survive but god i admire him and how committed he is to helping others too. like he could say "welp who cares it's dangerous imma go fuck off" like ragnor did but not only did he stay but he had a huge vulnerability with all his generosity and he never gave that up not for a second, even as he closed himself off from having any close friends or family or lovers, he never was anything if not generous and kind

the way he deliberately calls Jace shadowhunter in the most uninterested and even lowkey condescending way after the "pretty boy" incident idndjdndi we stan a king

the way Alec and magnus hold hands to summon the demon and even Magnus seems a bit shocked at the intensity of the sound and the bond that they make like. obviously they have their little staring contest and Alec is doing the Lightwood Intensity™ thing but like you can see Magnus frown just slightly and be a little confused because it was so strong right off the bat. even the sound of when they hold hands is louder than when the others do, like you can just feel their connection and the way magnus' magic flows so freely through Alec like god the soulmate energy tbh

Alec has a full body jerk when they hold hands too and he's the only one like damn we get it u 2 r vibin get a room

Izzy going "you ppl are pathetic" straight to the hets is so funny especially after Alec reacted to holding magnus' hand like he had gotten a 1000W electric shock or something. but i get the feel maybe she did that deliberately so they wouldnt pay as much attention to Alec's reaction too

the special effects were truly so bad like we all knew this but damn

Jace is such an asshole like Alec made it to kill the demon because it was you know about to seriously hurt them all and Magnus had just said that he couldn't contain the demon for longer (and like we know that Alec is the only one who ever cared if Magnus overexerted himself out of the shadowhunters but like bro this affects you) and Jace just???? shoved him??????? against the wall???? like a fucking piece of shit??? they should have let valak kill him tbh

the first time magnus calls him Alexander is when he calls Alec to see if he wants a drink and it's just like very clearly a thing that's supposed to be between them two? like he never did it when there were others nearby and i dig that

the fact that when asking Alec out he said "it was nice getting to know you, you seem sympathetic" like he could have gone with a lot of better more flirty adjectives but for a second the truth slipped out and he said what he thought - that while Alec was objectively you know tall and strong and all what really attracted him was the way Alec clearly gave a fuck whether or not Magnus was struggling with his magic to keep the damn demon at bay. and that was before the magic sharing shit too when Alec proved him right by cleaning up his things and saying that he had exerted himself enough for one day. like so many ppl see Magnus as the All Powerful Son Of Asmodeus Who's Also There To Service Shadowhunters and Alec just shows the faintest signs of caring about his wellbeing and he's immediately drawn to him like damn Im sad

also maybe this might be why he asked Alec to come so he could draw from his strength specifically, like he knew from the little hand holding thing that Alec was open and receptive to his magic (which probably adds to the "sympathetic" stuff like the fact that Alec had such an intense reaction to his magic and yet didnt try to push it back or draw away from it basically shows that he's open to Magnus if that makes sense? not only because magic is a part of warlocks but also because shadowhunters are all taught that magic is like, dirty and evil, so it would be instinctive for Alec to be resistant to demonic magic in his body, but he wasn't, he accepted it so readily and intensely it was a shock to the both of them) and also that he cared enough to support him. he kinda had Magnus' back from the beginning, first killing that circle member in the club before Magnus even saw him, then helping Magnus kill the other, then immediately making it to kill the demon when Magnus said he couldn't hold him back for long. like im aware I'm reading too much into this but s1 malec was very kept to the between-the-lines and its very interesting to me to think what Magnus was thinking, even if obviously on a subconscious level. Alec was showing himself to be open, reliable and caring, and magnus values that, and hes attracted to him and he hasnt had that in a while, because he wouldnt allow himself, but now he's healing and the pull he feels when he finally gets that while being emotionally available enough to accept these little gestures of caring is really strong. love that for him tbh

i go FERAL over everything about the magic sharing shit okay i always have. the way alec shows up and Magnus is kind of falling over, exhausted from trying to hold onto luke, and Alec immediately runs to support his weight and make sure hes okay? and magnus even as he was about to fall over never had his magic falter, my man couldn't keep his balance but still wouldnt come close to stumbling and risking luke's life further for even a second. so when Alec gets there he's just quite literally having his back, supporting his weight, when even Magnus didnt care about that (which like. unhealthy) and was focused on luke? and like Magnus can focus on luke because Alec is there to give him his support and make sure he's fine and how long's it been since he last had someone to do that?? and it's clearly alec's first instinct and like we know Jace or even Clary wouldnt fucking react like that. and then they have this ridiculous fucking staring contest again like we get it alec you're gay panicking at Magnus' beautiful eyes but like pls? and then we get to the most important part which is TAKE WHAT YOU NEED

like JDNDJSNSKDNDJDBSHSBSUSNSISNSIBSZJBZUZBSJSBSISNSSINSIS *SCREAMS INTO OBLIVION, SENDING SELF OUT OF EARTH'S GRAVITY ZONE*

his reaction is just SO intense and immediate he's just like "take what you need" he just offers himself fully to help Magnus just like that, no hesitation, and like Magnus is literally drawing from Alec's strength/life force, there should be some kind of resistance, even from a regular person or a friend, like its a very natural instinct. but Alec just grabs his hand and goes take what you need and he doesn't resist he just lets him do it and lets Magnus take his strength, because he genuinely worries about his wellbeing and safety just because he does, he believes in protecting others and being there for them, same as Magnus, and to Alec it's the most natural thing in the world but to Magnus it's shocking because he's always been self reliant, he has to be, he's been alone too many times and he's been used too many times and he's scared of what he'll let people take from him if he opens himself up because he always gives and gives, and he hasnt even let anyone be there for him to have his back and give him support when he needed in these last few centuries, not fully, not since Camille. but Alec shows up and just immediately cares for him in both small (like later when he refuses to let Magnus clean his couch magically because he knows he's tired and does it himself) and huge (like literally not hesitating before letting Magnus use a super intimate and presumably draining spell on him without putting any kind of limit, so Magnus can not overexert himself like he always does) ways and it means so much to him? and hes just so drawn and attracted to him and suddenly he realizes he's catching feelings that he had forgotten how to, because of course he had been healing and opening up, but he still kept people at some kind of length that didnt allow them to take care of him even if they wanted to, but Alec got that opening and he dived right in, and Magnus realizes how starved he's been for this kind of care and support that he's been denying himself and he decides to chase this, take it seriously, and i just aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

and like again Alec doesn't even think twice about it, because he's always been the protector and the support anyway, and he doesn't want to let anyone struggle and also most of that is just him being a Decent Human Being, but just like he got that opening that no one else did before, he met Magnus at the right time and he was sympathetic and caring and that sparked so much in Magnus, made him realize just how much he's been craving affection and care and close contact with people, and being vulnerable emotionally, and all of that that he's been denying himself. obviously magnus is romantically attracted to him but right then Alec is unlocking honesty with himself inside of magnus, he's unlocking vulnerability and not using it against him but really making a good thing out of it, and magnus' forgotten it could feel like this, safe and nice instead of hurting and scary. and again it's such a simple gesture but fuck my boy's been starved!! for so long!!! okay! and he can't help but want to desperately clutch to that feeling because against all odds he trusts alec to see his vulnerability right then (and he deliberately lets him see it further when he gives Alec that drink, tells him he's been closed off, that alec's unlocked something in him. you can see all the sadness and hope and vulnerability in his eyes right then, pretty much for the first time in the show, hes just so open and vulnerable and that's deliberate! first time was a fluke but second time he's choosing to because he wants to see where this goes, and if the magic sharing scene is the spark, the drinking scene is the fire, because they're not in a life or death situation anymore, Magnus is choosing to give Alec a chance by showing him a glimpse of his insecurities and Alec answers in kind, letting Magnus see his own confusion and want, and also again shows his caring and doesn't betray or use magnus' vulnerability and fuck!!! Magnus falls in love right then because this boy stays with him all night and talks, and he sees Magnus look at him with shiny eyes and admit that he's been scared of relationships, and he tells magnus not to overexert himself, and they click and Alec is open to his magic and hes funny and hes compassionate and also passionate about what he believes in, and they have so much in common with the way they hide and care so deeply and protect others always and are so loyal and i just. udndjdndidjdjxnxjxnskxndk SOULMATES god)

I need to lie down actually this was a bad idea I'm not strong enough I'm too feral

Might continue this later who knows. I'll be tagging malec livewatch and also long post as always if you want to filter this nonsense out

[seuzz]

Story: “The Twice-Cursed Outlaw, William Fokke”

There's no rest for the wicked, they say. Neither now or after, for those twice-damned.

"Oh, but for you, William Henry Fokke," she hissed, "a special curse!"

Once he would have stopped to listen to the girl, for at twenty she'd been pretty. But five years of Kansas wind and dust had blighted and blurred her face, so—

"Aw, button it, Molly," Fokke growled. He kicked over the spindly pinewood bureau where Duke Winslow was used to keeping his money. Papers and pens and a gold watch on a chain scattered across the warped cabin floor. "You already cussed me once," he said as he picked through the mess.

"The first was that you and Reno and the rest of you ... rascals!" Molly gulped down a breath. "Meet the law and have justice done you!"

Reno, a lean cowboy with a bristly black beard, sniggered. "Yeah, that's us 'n the boys," he agreed. "Jes' a coupl'a rascals!"

"I wouldn' 'spect different from buzzard leavings like you and Homer!" Molly sneered at him. "But you, William! You was Duke's best friend! He tore you out'a jail twice hisself when he coulda ridden back to Missouri and left you to hang!"

"Justice be hanged," Fokke retorted. He was carefully thumbing through a sheaf of bills inside a bulging paper envelope; when he finished, he chucked it to Reno. "You'll get more out'a Duke thisaways too, than you'd of otherwise," Fokke went on. "Fifteen thousand, dead or alive, that's what the territory's offering for your brother. It's yours to collect, soon as me and the boys clear out. Provided, of course," he added with a sour grin, "you 'fess it was you that made that mess over there."

He jerked his chin at the body that sprawled face down in the corner, with the back of its head blown off.

Reno laughed. "Tell the sheriff Duke was always trackin' in the mud," he called back as he and Fokke sauntered out. "That's how come you did it!"

"Ride you on till God Himself in judgement calls you home, William Henry Fokke!" Molly Winslow screamed as he and Reno swung onto their horses. "Neither faithless friend nor kindly foe give you rest nor succor, but let saddle be your bed and sky your ceiling"—still she shouted as the men rode off—"till with sound of trumpet He rolls the heavens back!"

*****

Fokke squinted into the sun and found himself wondering why, at that moment—perched atop his horse, under a tree, with his hands tied behind him and a noose chafing his throat— his mind chose to wander back to that afternoon two years before when, almost casually, he'd put two slugs into Duke Winslow's face.

Maybe because that's when it had all begun to go wrong.

It was easy, afterward, to appreciate how there'd been plenty of takings and hardly any fuss when it was Duke running the gang. Oh, sure, sometimes it was months between jobs, time to be filled with nought but the driving of fence-posts and the stringing of wire and other innocent-seeming play as the law chased fruitlessly hither and fro, even as Duke cased and plotted and dallied thoughtfully over the next bank raid or stagecoach robbery. But it was safe and profitable, even with nothing but drink and cards and whores to relieve the tedium. Afterward, though—

Well, Reno had promised action, and he'd delivered, though more of it and more desperate than Fokke in truth had liked. Worse was the sense he got that Reno and the others didn't exactly trust him after what he'd done to Duke. And when Fokke ran out of the bank in Elko, only to get his ear shot off by Reno as he and the rest of the gang wheeled and rode away, he'd found himself some other pals.

Not that any of the others he joined up with—Johnny Hodges, the Ford boys, the Lincoln County Riders—proved much friendlier. Somehow, their talk always circled back to that day in the cabin in the willows by Shoal Creek. The day Fokke had talked the trusting Duke into a corner, then blown his head off.

But it wasn't the memory of the gun that day—hot and heavy though it had been in his hand—or the thunder loosed by the trigger, or the spray of blood and brain and bone, that preoccupied William Henry Fokke as the sheriff read out the list of robberies, hold-ups, and murders he'd committed since. No, it was—

"You have anything to say before we finish this business?" the sheriff asked Fokke.

"You can't kill me," Fokke replied.

The sheriff snorted. "Like hell."

"Take it up with Molly Winslow."

His objection was followed by a puzzled silence. Then: "That was Duke Winslow's kid sister," one of the posse quietly said.

"Well, we'll be sure to give her an account of the afternoon's festivities," the sheriff drawled. "She'll be pleased."

"Maybe not," Fokke said. "She had other ideas for me, and they didn't include me getting packed off.

The sheriff snorted again. "Okay, let's get along," he said. "H'yah!" He kicked Dutchie in the haunch.

The horse jumped, and Fokke grimaced as the slack in the rope ran out. He felt a momentary jerk— something snapped—

And suddenly he was away. Dutchie sprang forward beneath him as though touched by a hot coal.

Branch broke! Fokke thought, and he laughed aloud. Not a hundred yards away flowed the river, where the sheriff's writ ran out. He bent over Dutchie's mane and coiled the trailing rope about his arm as he ran for freedom.

*****

He bent in the saddle, bowing over his horse's drooping head, as though dragged forward by the weight of his skull. His broken hat fell over hollow eyes, and he felt his bones grinding against each other within the ragged great coat that wrapped about his narrow shoulders. The glaring sun beat down, but he shivered yet, and felt he had no more substance than a stain on the wavering summer air.

Reno and his pals were holed up at the old shack in the willows. How he knew this he couldn't guess, but the thought of it filled him with a grim certainty, and with an unslakable desire to confront them with the fact of his continued—though haggard—existence.

Thrice before he had caught up to Reno, only for the traitor to bolt. The first time, the bristle-headed outlaw had thrown lead while galloping away; the other two times he'd merely run. The last time he'd caught Reno was in the dark outside Elko, and he'd had come close to running the louse down, but the squealing coward had fled into town and flung himself inside a church, sniveling there while his pursuer prowled about until dawn, rattling at the windows and prying at the door. Homer Ford, too, he'd nearly caught, but the fool broke his head open trying to escape down a cliff.

Once, riding after sundown in the Wyoming chaparral, he had lingered on the ridge overlooking a dell and listened to a clutch of cowboys talking around the fire.

"Like to a scarecrow tied atop a starving horse," said one. Another corrected: "A dead horse."

A third swore in a rough voice. "Scarecrow? What's the fear in a thing like that?"

"None, they say, if you ain't one that crossed him in life. Though one feller I heard tell looked him in the face and ain't been right in the head since."

"What's wrong with his face?"

"What do you think's wrong? But I've heard it was worse when there were more bits of him still hanging off the cheek bones."

"It's the neck being broke I can't abide the thinking of," said a fourth. "You reckon his head's wobbling funny, like it might fall off?"

"In that case," laughed the rough-voiced skeptic, "one good shot'd put an end to his riding."

There was a cold silence. "I don't reckon I'd want to cross the Dutchman. He was a bad 'un then, but I reckon he's a lot worse now." He was answered only by a rough, rude laugh.

"He still got the rope on him?"

"So it's reported. He carries it coiled like a lariat, though it's half rotted away. They say he tried roping Hoss Johnson with it at full gallop ... with the other end cinched around his neck still!"

How many miles was he from the shack where he'd gunned Duke down? He didn't know, but it didn't matter. When he got these premonitions he always arrived in time.

He paused at an abandoned homestead, to refresh himself at a rain barrel. The flesh had long since fallen from the grinning face that rippled and wavered back at him in the dark surface of the water; the hair that poked from under the hat brim was like old straw. But the water dribbled vainly through the bony fingers he dipped into the barrel, and the withered hand had no strength to lift the tin cup that hung on a nearby nail.

Prompt: Living death.

[carmenlire]

Tell Me, Where Have You Been?

read on ao3

“Remember your mission for tonight. You are--”

“Gideon Carstairs, prodigal heir to over twenty thousand acres of vineyards in Napa. Yeah, I know.” Alec’s voice is relaxed as he faces the mirror in one of the Institute’s prep rooms, a tailor working on last minute alterations to ensure that his suit fits like a dream, screaming unimaginable if understated wealth.

He listens with half an ear as Luke briefs him on a mission that he knows as well as his real name-- or alias for the evening.

“Don’t you get tired of reciting information to me that I already know.” He shoots his cuffs, stepping back when the tailor stands to give himself a careful once over in the mirror before turning to look at his handler.

“I’m the Carstair’s favored son. I graduated from Vanderbilt at the top of my class and double majored in industrial agriculture and French. I can speak four languages but my Russian accent is atrocious. The object of tonight is two fold: take out Hodge Starkweather and cozy up to one Morgan Bran.”

Luke considers him a moment before frowning. “Yeah, and this mission is a little unorthodox in that--”

“We have no visual evidence of him. By all accounts he’s a young, if extremely eccentric, investor looking to throw daddy’s money around. I guess I’ll just have to introduce myself to all the men,” Alec says with a grin.

Sighing, Luke sighs as he claps him on the back. “Play nice, Lightwood. This is just the next step in finally nailing Valentine to the fucking wall and we need our best agent in top form. Now, do you have everything?”

“If you’re asking if I have my tools, then do you even need to?” Alec flashes his lock pick kit and the small vial with one cerulean pill in it before putting both back in their designated place. “Starkweather usually makes his rounds every half hour but he won’t be missed for at least forty five minutes. That gives me plenty of time to slide out of the reception, complete Item A, and get back to the party to make contact with Bran. I’ll flirt a little, plant the bug, and make a date for early next week. All in a day’s work, boss.”

Rolling his eyes, Luke jerks his head through the door. “Go. The GranTurismo is waiting for you in the garage. Remember, Bran is a wild card but we’ve linked him to Valentine on a handful of occasions. They had business together last year and if he’s still alive than they parted amicably. We need him to get to the big fish.”

Alec nods once. He takes the signet ring Luke hands him, placing it on his middle finger before tapping it gently. There’s a few seconds lull before they get confirmation that he’s transmitting. His ear piece is second nature to him by now and with that, Alec’s ready.

It’s just a few minutes later that he’s pulling out of a nondescript garage in lower Manhattan. It’s a thirty minute drive to the estate where this evening’s party is happening and Alec uses that time to mentally flip through the few files that held critical intelligence for this mission.

Valentine was a snake with his hands in every pie. He was holding this reception, inviting only those who pockets were as deep as his own. It was ostensibly a charity auction with a drink and canape reception held immediately before. The Maserati is a pleasure to drive and far better than the car he was given for his last assignment which was the picture definition of rust bucket.

Tapping impatiently at the steering wheel, Alec briefly entertains the notion of retiring. He’ll be thirty next month and he’s been thinking that it might just be time to settle down, get a cushy job as a security consultant and rest on his laurels as he rakes in seven figures a year.

It does sound nice.

In the next minute, he breathes out a laugh. He’d be bored within a week if he did that. Alec’s been working for Alicante since he was eighteen-- officially. Off the record, he’d been brought up in the business. At this point, Alec figures that he stays half for family legacy but mostly because it’s all he knows.

He’s killed more men than most could count and lives in the shadows so often that he’s started wondering when he’ll forget his real name. He’s a civilized assassin and made his peace long ago with the fact that it was in his blood.

Still. Languishing on a farm somewhere in Upstate New York certainly holds its charm.

Alec accelerates through a sharp curve, enjoying the way the car hugs the road, and when he straightens, he sees Valentine Manor in all its glory.

It’s an auspicious home-- if a mausoleum could even be called something that sounded so welcoming and cozy. From blueprints Alec’s studied, there are at least thirty bedrooms with three separate ballrooms and twice as many dining areas.

He pulls up to a stop in front of arched driveway, leaving the door open for the valet.

Into the lion’s den.

Anticipation runs hot and Alec relishes the adrenaline rush that hasn’t gotten old, even after all this time. Truth is, he’s probably halfway insane at this point. There’s no way a civilian would ever feel so comfortable eating with the enemy.

He runs a thumb over his ring in an imperceptible move to turn off its transmittance and walks through security with an easy grin, shoulders relaxed. He widens his stance and lets one of the security move its wand over him, frowning appropriately when it goes off near his jacket.

“I knew I shouldn’t have won this belt here,” he says with a beleaguered sigh. “I was promised by the sales associate at Dolce that it was one hundred percent leather. I paid a goddamn fortune for this.”

Alec raises his voice, just a little, just enough so that the security troll decides not to investigate further lest Alec make a scene and complain to the host.

He walks past with a huff, readjusting his jacket. The room is full and Alec makes his way around the ballroom, taking careful survey of the people and the place.

After he completes a nondescript circuit-- talking to half a dozen guests- he goes to the bar. He orders a scotch neat and keeps discreet track of the time, chatting up two gentlemen in the meantime.

When the quarter hour rolls around, he sees Starkweather leave through one of the pocket doors and excuses himself from his handsome if idiotic companion.

He trails Hodge through winding corridors and out into the garden. It’s too chilly for the guests to be milling around outside and Alec waits until they’re in the maze before he makes his move.

Approaching from behind Starkweather, he doesn’t hear a thing as Alec grabs him, pulling him back against his chest. He drops the pill into his targets mouth and clamps a hand over his face to keep him from spitting it out. Alec slowly suffocates him even as the pill starts to do its work.

It will make Starkweather look like he died of unpredictable if perfectly mundane natural causes. Alec just hopes that they were fast enough to stop the whole case from being blown.

“Good riddance,” he mutters and gently lays him down before standing and straightening his clothes.

Hodge Starkweather had been a double agent and as far as Alec was concerned, his death had been entirely too easy. The bastard had put dozens of people at risk and sacrificed thousands of man hours.

Walking back to the main house, Alec brings a hand up to smooth his hair. “Target one complete,” he murmurs into the ring and makes it back into the ballroom with four minutes to spare.

Starkweather won’t be found for at least thirty minutes and Alec has just enough time to find Barn before making his strategic retreat.

He sidles up to the bar and orders a glass of Cab, nodding in thanks as the bartender also slides him a napkin. Alec is just setting his glass down on it, set to survey the room for a place to start when he sees the writing.

Dark hair, burgundy suit. Two o’clock.

Alec reads the message scrawled along the bottom of the napkin without pausing his wine’s descent, immediately covering the words. He plays with the stem of his glass, looking just preoccupied enough that no one tries to talk to him, before carefully raising his drink to his lips and taking an appreciative sip.

Turning to the western side of the room, Alec sees target two with his back to him, talking to a gentlemen that looks a few years his senior. Alec rakes his gaze over broad shoulders and sighs.

The hot ones were always corrupt.

He turns to go but not before crumpling the napkin and distractedly putting it in his pocket to dispose of later.

He makes his way to the man, the illusive Morgan Barn, thanking the fates when his friend leaves just as he’s set to approach.

“Excuse me,” he starts, voice confident and just a hair too suave for his personal taste. Carstairs does like to act a bit like a pompous ass. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Gi--”

“Alexander?”

Alec feels everything-- the very earth beneath his feet-- stop as his target turns around and he sees the one person he never thought he’s find here, of all places. His biggest what-if, his persistent lodestar even after all these years.

His best friend who moved away the summer before high school and from whom he never heard from again.

“Magnus,” Alec whispers and tries to ignore the voice screeching in his ear to abort mission.

He doesn’t get the chance to say another word-- to react-- before the room is plunged into red and alarms start sounding, the doors to the ballroom sweeping shut with finality.

[angellightwood-bane-blog]

What Lurks In The Dark // Alec Lightwood X OC

Disclaimer - Chapter One - Two - Three - Four - Five - Six - Seven

 Chapter Eight - Magnus Bane

Breeanna's Dress and Shoes including the laced up sides

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Isabelle jumped up from her place at the table and took over from Hodge. After a few quick taps on the screen she pulled up an invitation.

"A Downworld rave, nice, Izzy," Jace praised.

"And where'd you get that?" Alec asked sceptically.

"During my surveillance of the Downworlders. From what I hear, Magnus likes to party," Isabelle said with a knowing smile.

"He'll never go for it. Not with Valentine trying to kill him."

"Of course, he will," Jace butted in,

"He'll blend in - hide in plain sight."

"I don't know, it's seems-” Isabelle interrupted Clary,

"Trust me, if Magnus is coming out of hiding, he's going to one of the biggest parties of the year."

"Never underestimate Magnus' hedonism," Hodge added,

"Or his greed. Come with me." He walked over to a rune on the floor and traced it with his stele, removing the tile and revealing a necklace. Isabelle gasped at the exquisite pendant,

"A four-karat, unheated Burmese ruby," He explained,

"And this necklace has special meaning to Magnus Bane as it was a gift from him to his then lover, Camille Belcourt."

"What, Camille and Magnus were lovers?" Clary asked.

"Warlock gets around," Jace smirked. Hodge nodded,

"Magnus bought it in 1857 for the price of his London townhouse. Now, the jewel is enchanted by a spell that alerts the wearer to the presence of demons. Magnus has longed to reunite with this necklace. Offer it to him. He might just take the bait." Jace started to leave.

"I'll send Magnus a fire message to arrange the meeting. We have to get to Magnus before Valentine does."

Isabelle took my hand and Clary’s and led us back to her bedroom.

"Now what will you two be wearing to the Downworlder party tonight?" I shrugged, and Clary looked down at her green tank top and jeans,

"I don't know. I was just thinking about wearing this." Isabelle snorted,

"I don't think so. No Downworlder would be caught dead in that. Plus, it's a party, not a poetry slam."

"Izzy neither of us have any party clothes," I said. She considered what I said then replied,

"So, you'll have to wear mine, hmm?" She dug around in her closet for a minute then,

"Ah! Clary," She held out a small black number.

"Okay, that dress is way too tight," Clary shook her head.

"It's stretchy," Isabelle reasoned.

"Put it on."

"Ugh, fine." Clary walked behind the divider before Isabelle handed her some matching heels,

"Try these." After giving the shoes to Clary, she returned to her closet and Isabelle produced an outfit for me too. I raised an eyebrow at the short strapless, black dress with laced up sides, but took it wordlessly, knowing the struggle was futile. Isabelle place a pair of black knee-high boots just on the edge of the divider for me.

After Clary came out, looking ridiculous in Isabelle's little black dress, I ducked behind the divider and slipped into my own party attire. As I walked out I declared,

"Okay, there is no way I'm wearing these heels, I would like my boots bac-" I stopped when I found no Clary and instead Alec, whose eyes grew wide as he took in my appearance. His eyes raked my smooth tanned legs before flickering to my barely covered chest for a split second. He cleared his throat and turned back to Isabelle, visibly not wanting to look away.

"Jace said you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, you never know what to wear to these parties either." Alec looked down at the shirt he had on as if asking ‘what was wrong with it’ looking back to his little sister, who shook her head in a not a ‘chance are you wearing that’ way. She tossed him a denim shirt and looked at him expectantly. He glanced at me briefly, rolling his eyes at his sister. I laughed before he stripped his shirt off, replacing it with the one Isabelle gave him. It was my turn to trail my gaze down his chest, as my mouth felt dry. Isabelle smirked at the pair of us and the three of us walked to the training room, the shoe argument long forgotten.

Alec started inspecting his arrows straight away.

"Alec, we're going to a Downworlders rave, you should be a little more excited," Isabelle pouted at his blatant lack of enthusiasm.

"It's a mission, not a party," He reminded her.

"Yeah, whatever. Before Bre and Clary got here, every day was the same. Go on a mission. Kill demons. Go on a mission. Kill demons. At least now things are interesting," she pointed out.

"Interesting? Valentine is alive and actively seeking the Cup. He threatens our entire world. On top of that, we're gonna end up overpaying some warlock who may or may not have information we need. So, no, Izzy I don't find it interesting," Alec snapped. I went to stand next to him, and placed my hand over his, which laid flat on the cold table. I felt the tension in his muscles fade underneath my touch. I ran my thumb over his fingers gently. Isabelle turned around and looked at her brother with a raised eyebrow,

"Feel better now?"

"No, I don't." He looked down at the table, at our hands, then back up to Isabelle,

"Okay, maybe a little."

"You can't keep bottling things up, Alec," She told him,

"It's only a matter of time before they explode - and not the fun kind of explode." Alec looked down at me and took hold of the hand that was on his,

"All right let’s go." We'd started walking away, hand in hand, when he turned and looked pointedly over his shoulder at his sister and added,

"And we're not going for the music."

He pulled me to one side, letting Isabelle walk on past us and quietly asked,

"I don't suppose there's even a small chance you'll listen to me if I asked you to stay behind tonight?"

"Not likely, I mean I'm already dressed" I said with a small smile. Alec shook his head, raking his eyes over me once more,

"No, didn't think so, just please be careful." I feigned shock but grinned,

"I always am." He laughed, and we caught up with the others, heading for the party.

"Alec and Izzy, secure the perimeter," Jace said once we arrived, and the siblings headed off.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Last time we were here, this place was crawling with vampires," Clary looked around.

"You guys have been here before?" I asked. Jace nodded, then assured Clary,

"Relax, all Downworlders hang out here. We just came on vampire night." Alec and Isabelle came up behind us,

"All clear."

"Do you think red's my colour?" Isabelle asked, looking down at Magnus' necklace, resting on her chest.

"Iz, with a body like yours, everything's your colour," Clary laughed.

"Good point. Damn, I make this necklace look so good," Isabelle touched it with a pout.

"Will you take it off? I'm certain Magnus Bane doesn't want drool on his ruby when we make the exchange," Alec rolled his eyes at his sister's antics.

"You know, I wouldn't be so sure. Most men like it when I admire their jewels." Jace covered up his laugh with a cough and I looked away, so my grin was unnoticed.

"Can you just give it to Jace?" Alec sighed. Jace reached around Clary and took the necklace from Isabelle just before we were let in.

It seemed the entire Downworld had turned up for this party and I wasn't so sure that we would find Magnus as easily as we'd hoped. Jace grabbed my wrist so he wouldn't lose me in the crowd and placed a hand on Clary's back, guiding her forwards. Alec and Isabelle spread out behind us and I soon lost sight of them.

"Magnus." Jace's voice directed my attention to none other than Magnus Bane, walking towards us. The air around him shimmered as he walked. It was almost like I could see his magic.

"Clary Fairchild," He greeted and Jace stepped aside so I was in view,

"And Breeanna, my, my, you've grown into beautiful young women." He dragged is eyes over my dress. Clary stepped up to him and tried to look intimidating,

"Magnus Bane. So, you're the one who stole my memories." Magnus frowned,

"At your mother's request," He corrected.

"She knew the risk." He turned to Jace,

"Show me the jewellery, Shadowhunter." Jace dangled the necklace from his hand and Magnus reached for it, but Jace jerked his hand back,

"Give the girls back their memories, and you get the jewellery." Magnus shook his head,

"I have to confirm its authenticity." Jace reluctantly handed it over and Magnus inspected it, murmuring,

"Amor verus numquam moritur - true love cannot die. Oh, how I've missed this jewel."

"Now, it's your turn to pay up," Clary demanded.

"I wish I could retrieve your memories, but I no longer have them," he replied airily.

"What? Where are they?" Clary asked with wide eyes. Magnus looked hesitant,

"I fed them to a memory demon for safekeeping. I'm afraid Breeanna's are gone forever, the demon that held hers was killed."

"Why the hell would you do that?" Jace questioned through gritted teeth.

"To protect Breeanna, Clary and the Cup. If Valentine ever captured me, he could torture their memories out of me. Just like he tortured Dot," Magnus turned his eyes downwards at the last part and my heart skipped a beat, fear washing over me. I took a hasty step forward,

"Tortured? Wait, is Dot okay?" Magnus looked like he would rather not be the one delivering the news to us, but he relented and spoke,

"You don't know? Dot is dead."

"What? How do you know?" Clary asked, teary eyed. Magnus sighed,

"I can't feel her magic anymore. Valentine killed her because she would not betray your mother. Girls come with me. My lair can offer you protection no Shadowhunter ever could."

"No, I'm not going anywhere with you. Help me get my memories back from whatever demon you gave them to!" She protested.

"Valentine isn't just hunting Warlocks, he's hunting you, too, and every moment we're outside my lair's protection, is a moment Valentine gets closer to finding us." He turned around and opened a portal before offering Clary and I each a hand,

"Come with me. I won't offer again."

"Magnus, we really appreciate your offer," I shot a look at Clary that kept her quiet as she opened her mouth to argue again,

"But I'm not sure we can, only because if we come with you, we can't find the cup, meaning Valentine could get to it." The warlock nodded, seeing my point, and offered me a smile.

"Look out!" I heard Isabelle shout. An arrow soared past us, straight into the chest of an approaching man. Alec ran down the stairs towards us, and examined the man, now dead on the floor as Magnus jumped through his portal and disappeared, leaving a golden cufflink in Clary's hand. She looked at me, confused but I shrugged.

"The area's secure," Isabelle informed us,

"Looks like he was the only assassin."

"He has a Circle rune on the base of his neck," Alec said, running a finger over it. Jace cursed,

"They found us. It's not safe here. Bre, Clary, we have to go." I took hold of Clary's hand and guided in her dazed state out a service door, following the others.

Alec and Jace were arguing again once we got outside.

"We're no closer to getting the Mortal Cup, and we've lost the Institute's necklace," Alec was saying. Clary brushed me off, so I let her stand by herself,

"I don't care about your damn jewellery. I'm sorry you're gonna look bad in front of your bosses, okay? But my mother is still missing and my last chance at finding her just disappeared into thin air."

"Clary-" I tried, but she rounded on me next.

"Why are you on their side?" She demanded.

"Because I can see where they're coming from! This isn't just about us anymore Clary! Why can't you understand that it won't matter if find mum if Valentine gets the Mortal Cup? We have to help them in order for them to help us. If Valentine gets the cup, we're all doomed and I'm sick and tired of you being so self-centred, she’s not only your mother she’s mine as well, so get your head out of your ass and let Alec do his job." I snap, seeing in her eyes that my trying to reason with her wasn't getting through. So, she changed tack, completely ignoring my rant,

"And Magnus? Magnus will never come out of hiding again while Valentine is still after him. We're never gonna find him and I will never get my memories back." She threw the cufflink to the floor but Jace caught it.

"You give up way too easy," He said, before walking a few steps away. He pulled out his stele and traced a rune on his hand.

"What is he doing?" Clary sounded exasperated. Alec, equally frustrated, replied,

"He's tracking Magnus. Be quiet and keep your distance."

"The button belonged to Magnus. Jace can pinpoint the location using that." Isabelle added. Jace shook his head and turned back to us,

"The signal isn't strong enough. Magnus must be blocking the track. Let's do this, Alec." Alec walked over and obediently held out his hand. Jace placed the button in it and then clasped their hands together.

"Do what?" Clary asked.

"Parabatai tracking," I said, more in realisation than anything else.

"Of course, they are," Clary said sarcastically. Jace and Alec held eye contact and remained silent.

"When parabatais track, their power grows stronger. Jace and Alec are gonna track Magnus together," Isabelle explained. Suddenly Jace let go of Alec's hand with a triumphant grin.

"Got him."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoy my Lovelies.

-Angel

[raptorginger]

Netherfield Is Let at Last: Chapter 2 - Starlight and Butterflies

The night of the housewarming arrived, and Rey found herself feeling quite giddy.  Sitting at her vanity in front of an antique mirror, she swirled a large fluffy fan brush into a bit of Becca Moonstone highlighter, sweeping the shimmering powder over the crests of her cheeks.  She finished with a bit of mascara and a swipe of Lipstick Queen’s Medieval lipstick.  She heard Finn let himself in downstairs as she went into her closet and plucked a pale dusty blue dress off a hanger.  The soft cotton fabric felt cool on her skin as she slipped the dress over her head, mindful of her freshly made face.  She smoothed out the wrinkles as Finn knocked on her bedroom door.  It was a simple cut, A-line and knee-length, with a sharp boatneck that highlighted her delicate collarbones.

“Come in!” she called out.

Finn opened the door cautiously, then pushed it fully open seeing she was decent.  Rey had sat back down and was using a large barreled curling iron to add soft waves to her chestnut hair.  She smiled as Finn walked in.  He looked quite dashing in his dark rinse jeans and grey sweater.

“God, I hope this Dameron guy is gay because there’s no way I can compete with you,” Finn teased.

Rey laughed, “Don’t be silly, Finn.  You look very nice.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” he said waving his hands dismissively.  “Gimme the iron.  I wanna play with your hair,” he commanded.

Rey gladly handed over the hot iron, letting Finn take over.  His nimble fingers made quick work of the rest of her hair, and as he leaned back to admire his handiwork, he cocked his head slightly to the side.  He made a tut-tutting sound with his tongue and went to her dresser, rummaging around in a small wooden box she kept there.  It was full of a mish mash of jewelry, hair pins, and elastics.  Finn plucked something from the hodge podge triumphantly and returned to Rey’s side.  Sweeping some hair back from one side of her face, he secured the soft locks with a delicate sterling silver butterfly comb.  He gave a satisfied nod and stepped back.

Rey turned and looked up at him, smiling brightly.  “Thanks, Finn.”

Smiling back, Finn replied, “No problem.  Now let���s get going.  Can’t be late.  What shoes are you wearing?”

Since they were going to walk, Rey had opted for a pair of metallic silver ballet flats.  She slipped them on as they made their way out into the summer night, the dark sky sprinkled with stars.  Rey locked the door behind her, and they made their way up her front path lined with different kinds of rose bushes.  Their sweet fragrance scented the soft warm air as they made their way onto the gravel road, turning and heading toward Netherfield.  

The large house loomed large and bright at the end of the road.  As Finn and Rey approached, Rey felt her jaw drop open involuntarily.  Having been restored to its former glory, the Craftsman mansion positively glowed.  Decorative lights shone bright in and around the premises, artfully lighting up different outdoor paths and sculpted gardens.  A small fleet of cars were parked in the massive circular drive, all different makes and models.  A large carriage house turned garage stood off to the side, and Rey saw a familiar black Corvette parked nearby.  Jerking her thumb over her shoulder, she motioned to Finn to go on ahead.  

“I want to check that car out,” Rey said when Finn looked at her confused.

“Ohhhh.  Gotcha,” Finn replied.  Finn knew how much Rey liked cars.  They had met forever ago before Rey’s first book had gotten published when she worked as a mechanic, and he’d come into the shop with “car trouble.”  He’d really been in a relationship with one of her coworkers, who hadn’t exactly been “out” at the time, and they’d bonded, remaining friends after the breakup.  Finn had encouraged Rey to send her manuscript for a new young adult novel series to a publisher, and before she knew it, she had a best seller on her hands.

As Finn followed the lights and sounds around to the back, Rey made her way excitedly towards the carriage house.  There wasn’t as much light this way, and Rey was hyper aware of the gravel crunching under her feet as she stepped into the dim light.  Stepping up to the sleek black machine, Rey resisted the urge to reach out and touch its pristine surface.  The interior was a mix of red and black leather, the electronic dash incredibly modern looking.  Rey felt her fingers twitch when she saw the manual control, and she clenched her fist.  Biting her lower lip and looking around nervously, unable to resist any longer, Rey reached out and touched the smooth metal with her fingertips.  She retracted her touch almost immediately, and rubbed the back of her neck where she felt a prickling sensation.  Looking around guiltily, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw nothing in the dark.  Not wanting to tarry longer, she turned and dashed toward the path Finn had gone down a few minutes earlier.  The loud crunching of the gravel beneath her rushing feet made her oblivious as a tall man stepped out from the shadow of the garage and approached the car, resting his fingers where hers had been.

“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice velvet and deep, to the dark.

***

The sounds of music and revelry grew louder as Rey made her way down the path around to the flagstone patio.  Rey had to stagger back a bit as she rounded the corner.  A large group of people were milling about, some clustered together in smaller groups, and others flitting about.  This was a space clearly designed with entertaining in mind.  A covered bar stood between two large shrubs where two bartenders were pouring and mixing different drinks.  Clearly professionals, they smiled and conversed easily while their hands remained moving in a blur of motion.  A few waiters were winding their way through the crowd, carefully balancing trays layden with delicious looking hors d’oeuvres on one hand.  A massive pair of French doors were thrown open at the top of a small flight of broad flagstone steps, revealing a bit of the large house’s warm wood interior.  Light poured out, casting the revelers in a warm glow.  Rey looked around for Finn and saw him conversing with a small group of people.  She recognized a few of them as Finn’s coworkers, and she headed that way.  As best she could tell, their host was nowhere to be seen.

They were all laughing at something as she approached.  

“Hey!” Finn cried when he saw her.

Finn’s friends all turned and gave Rey quick hugs, moving slightly to make room in their little cluster.  Rey found herself standing between Finn and his coworker Rose, and Rose gave her a warm smile.  A waiter appeared suddenly bearing a tray with a variety of wines on it, and Rey deftly snatched up a flute of champagne.  

“How goes the War?” Rose asked amiably.  She was a big fan of Rey’s novel series, Wars in Starlight, and often tried to wheedle spoilers out of Rey.

Rey chuckled, “It’s going.  How’d you all end up here?” Rey asked, gesturing to the group.

“We all got invites at work the other day.  Turns out this guy is one of our new supervisors.”

“Really?!  Finn!  Why didn’t you mention it?”

Finn shrugged apologetically.  “I haven’t actually met the guy yet since he doesn’t officially start until Monday.  Chill out,” Finn teased.

“He doesn’t drive a black Corvette, does he?” Rey asked casually.

Rose shook her head.  “No, I don’t think so.  At least, I haven’t seen one around the office.  I think he drives a restored Mustang.”

Rey hummed thoughtfully.

“He’s got a friend that drives a black convertible.  I think it’s a Corvette,” Rose’s sister Paige added helpfully.

“How do you know that?” Rose asked her sister.  

“The guy picked Poe up from a meeting with the bosses one time, and I saw,” Paige replied in that defensive way sisters sometimes talk to each other.

“Know-it-all,” Rose muttered under her breath.

Paige stuck her tongue out.

The music dropped substantially in volume after that, causing everyone to raise their heads.  Turning towards the French doors, Rey saw a jovial looking man holding his arms out in a welcoming gesture.  He was swarthy, his dark hair neatly mussed, and dressed handsomely in tailored jeans, white shirt, and a tan leather jacket.  A white and orange Shiba Inu sat beside him, surveying the crowd.  Slipping out and off to the side as unobtrusively as possible was a striking pair, a pale red headed man and a fabulously tall platinum blonde.  And just behind the man who could only be their host Poe Dameron was a tall and rather grim looking man.  Rey unconsciously licked her lower lip, taking in his tall form, dark mess of hair, and pale skin.  He held his hands behind him as he followed Poe down the steps.  Poe was saying something, but Rey didn’t hear.

She turned to Paige and asked surreptitiously, “Is that Mr. Dameron?”

Paige nodded.  “Handsome, isn’t he?  Too bad he’s gay.”

Rey nodded noncommittally.  That was good news for Finn, whose face was lit up like a Christmas tree.  “And the one behind him?  With the dour expression?”

“That’s the friend I was telling you about.  I heard Poe call him Solo,” Paige whispered excitedly.

“Solo?!  You don’t mean that Solo do you?!”  Rey knew of only one family with the last name Solo, a well-respected and famously wealthy one.

Paige nodded enthusiastically.  “I think he’s their son.  You’d think he’d be more pleasant given his circumstance.”

Rey nodded, but said nothing.

“So!” Poe exclaimed as Rey finally realized he’d been talking, “Eat, drink, and be merry!”

The crowd let out a cheer, and the music resumed.  Rey blushed when the object of her scrutiny met her gaze, arching a dark brow haughtily.  Rey looked away, probably too quickly to pass off as casual, and pretended to be absorbed in the group’s conversation. When Rey looked up out of the corner of her eye, he was talking with the red head and the blonde.  They all seemed bored.  Rey snickered when Poe came up beside him and smacked him on the shoulder, making him wince, not in pain but in annoyance.  He was a man that probably got annoyed by everything, and Rey really wanted to find out if she was right.

Just then, Rey felt a snuffling at her feet.  She looked down and saw the Shiba Inu sniffing her heels.

“Hi there,” she said amiably, crouching down to let the dog sniff her fingers.  

The dog gave her a cautious sniff.  Deciding she was Good, he pressed his head against her hand and looked up at her with warm brown eyes.  Rey scratched behind his ears as she gave his ruff a good pet.  The dog’s long pink tongue lolled out in happiness, making Rey laugh.

“You goober!  Are you hitting on my guests?” a pleasant voice exclaimed.  Rey looked up and saw Poe Dameron looking down at his dog, pure love in his eyes.  

Rey got up and held her hand out.  “Rey Johnson,” she said pleasantly.

Poe gave her hand a firm shake.  “Poe Dameron.  Sorry about him.  He’s a shameless flirt.  His name is BB.”

Rey laughed, “That’s quite alright.”  Glancing around, she saw Finn trying to avoid staring, and she saw her opportunity.  She grabbed Finn’s wrist and pulled him over.  “This is my best friend Finn.  I think you guys work together or something?”

Finn shook Poe’s hand, and Rey pretended to cough into her shoulder so she could hide her grin.  She knew sparks when she saw them.

“Rey’s a writer!” Rose interrupted, oblivious to the sparks.

“Really?” Poe asked, tearing his gaze away from Finn.  “Anything I might have read?”

“Do you read young adult fiction?” Rey asked jokingly, assuming the answer was no.  It usually was where adult men were concerned.  Except Finn.

“Are you kidding?  I love that stuff.  It’s like eating a box of chocolate.  Right, Solo?” Poe laughed.

“What?” a deep velvety voice asked.  Rey rested her fingers low over her stomach as the tall man approached, having been pulled over by Poe.

“Young adult fiction.  It’s like chocolate,” Poe said.

“Yeah, it’ll make you sick,” Solo snarked.  Rey’s smile quickly faded, her fist clenching.

“Come on, Ben.  Why so serious?” Poe asked teasingly.

Ben rolled his eyes.  “You know why.  I hate that stuff.  It offers nothing of value to the field and drags the whole state of literature down.”

Rey immediately went on the defensive.  “And what gives you the authority to make such a claim,” she snapped.

Ben turned and arched his brow at her again.  “I have a doctorate in literature.  And I teach it at Wildemount University.  I’m sure you’ve heard of it.  I don’t have a CV at hand, but I’d be happy to send it to you,” he replied, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rey wanted so badly to smack the pretentious look off his face, even if she was momentarily impressed that he taught at Wildemount.  “Did it occur to you that you can ignore something if you don’t like it?  Young adult fiction isn’t written for people like you anyway.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”  Ben practically hissed.  

Rey was vaguely aware that the others were watching their exchange with some amusement.  Finn whispered something to Poe that made his press his lips together and his eyes bug out trying to stifle a guffaw.

“Rich ivory tower academic types who can’t see past their own stuck up noses, and consider themselves above such plebeian entertainments,” Rey snarled.

Ben glared down at her, and Rey almost backed down, realizing she’d gotten right up in his face.  Sort of.  He was much taller than her.  Instead, she just fixed him with a glare of her own.  The air between them felt charged with a frantic energy of push and pull.

Ben leaned back and looked down at her, and Rey almost lost it.  “You remind me of a lonely teenage girl who just read Austen and thinks she’s Elizabeth Bennett,”  Ben sneered.

Rey knew he meant it as an insult, and the lonely part did sting, but she felt complimented anyway.  She smirked and threw back, “Yeah, and you’re an angry teenage boy who just read Catcher in the Rye and thinks he’s Holden Caulfield.  What’s your point?”

Rey gave a satisfied smile as she watched Ben sputter angrily.  Poe came up and clapped him on the shoulder again, laughing uproariously.  “Go get some water, you beautiful idiot.  She won.”

[princess-of-the-worlds]

Steve Rogers and the No Good, Very Bad Promposal

For @debwalsh who donated to @fandomtrumpshate and asked for high school!stucky + fake-dating.

Shout out to @marleymortis for being an awesome beta and cheerleader.

ao3 link: here

word count: 1749

warnings: none

summary: “I’m not fake-dating you just so that you can settle a bet with Natasha,” Steve retorts in exasperation, throwing his hands into the air. “What did she even promise you in return?”

“What? No!” Steve cries when he hears Bucky’s latest hare-brained scheme. “Why in the world? Just no! Why?”

“Stevie,” Bucky pleads. With his hair tousled from its gelled style, his oversized sweatshirt, and jutting bottom lip, he looks overly adorable, and Steve is finding it harder and harder to refuse his best friend.

“I’m not fake-dating you just so that you can settle a bet with Natasha,” Steve retorts in exasperation, throwing his hands into the air. “What did she even promise you in return?”

“Her Corvette,” Bucky whispers excitedly, leaning forward in the warm atmosphere of Steve’s bedroom. “Besides, it’s not like you’re fake-dating me entirely. I’m just fake-asking you to Prom.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “And what were her terms for the bet? Her exact words?”

“‘Nothing you do will ever be able to shock or surprise me, James, but I will give you a week nonetheless. If you succeed, you can drive my Corvette anywhere you want for a month,’” Bucky mimics with just the slightest hint of a Russian accent. His Natasha impression is nearly perfect enough that she could be in the room with them.

Steve shivers.

“This?” he asks incredulously. “This is how you want to shock her? Why?”

Bucky fixes him with a stare like this should all be obvious to Steve. “Because it is random af. She’d never see it coming.”

Steve definitely hadn’t seen it coming.

“So,” Bucky prompts, “will you do it? Will you fake-go to Prom with me?”

Steve considers it for a moment, mulling over the decision.

A, he’s been hopelessly in love with his best friend since freshmen year and will never get another chance to hear Bucky ask “Will you go to Prom with me?”

B, Bucky’s plan has a chance of going horribly awry like most of their plans do, and someone will end up hurt, and it will probably be Steve.

“Fine,” Steve says finally, wondering why the hell he’s agreeing to this. “But you better bring me flowers when you propose. No roses. And chocolate. This better be the most real, fake Promposal anyone at SHIELD High has ever seen, James Barnes!”

Bucky beams.

“You’ll never be able to tell him, James.”

“Don’t doubt me too much, Nat. Have I ever failed you before?”

“Maybe you have. Maybe you have not. But my point is, James, that when it comes to Steve, your judgement is always a bit skewed. You always freeze.”

“Hey! I never freeze!”

“Hmm. I’ll make you this bet, James. Ask Steve to Prom like you’ve been dreaming about since junior year, and my Corvette will be yours for the month. Else, I will give Rebecca a very detailed sex ed lesson in front of you the next time I come over for dinner.”

“It’s going down today,” Bucky whispers to Steve as they pass in the hallway on their way to their individual second periods.

“Where?” Steve calls after him. “When? How? Why do you have to be so vague, Buck?”

But Bucky’s already disappeared past the mass of students swarming their lockers, and a frustrated and bewildered Steve slips into AP Art History a minute late.

Third and fourth period come and go, and it is finally lunch, so Steve heads to his locker, but when he turns the lock to his combo and opens it, there’s an explosion of gold confetti in his face.

“What the f-?” Steve bats confetti away from his eyes and spits some out of his mouth. “Gross,” he sighs.

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Bucky begins dramatically from behind Steve, his tone giddy and gleeful.

“Oh, no,” Steve says, turning around to find Bucky standing there and clutching a bouquet of peonies.

At least he listened, Steve thinks subconsciously. Instead, he scowls at his best friend.

“Stevie,” Bucky repeats. “When I first saw you punching the ever-living daylights out of Gilmore Hodge on the playground in pre-school, I thought you were the cutest little punk I’d ever seen.”

“Really, Buck?” Steve asks dryly. “We were six. All you wanted to know was where I’d found my Captain America action figure.”

Bucky smiles rapturously. “We’d always known that I was a catch,” he states, preening slightly, “and it only took twelve years for your ugly mug to catch up.”

“Asshole,” Steve shoots back, bristling with irritation. “Arrogant bastard.”

Still, some part of him, despite knowing how much Bucky is sugarcoating this entire exchange, can’t help but sigh and tremble at every word that comes from his best friend’s mouth.

Someone nearby snickers, and Steve realizes a small crowd has formed around them. Visible at the edge, with her hair a bright beacon, is Natasha, watching this interaction with vigilant eyes. Behind her is a heavy-eyed Clint and, of course, Tony, who conveniently has his phone out to film this.

“Turns out we make a dynamic duo,” Bucky continues, and Steve’s attention snaps back to him. “With my looks and brains and athletic ability and your…ability to hold a pencil.”

“This is the worst Promposal ever,” Steve says loudly, and someone boos.

At Steve or at Bucky? The world will never know.

Bucky isn’t deterred, of course. “We make such great best friends,” he states, “but we’d make a more extraordinary couple.”

“Not with your vanity, we won’t,” Steve grumbles in response.

“Will you,” and here Bucky’s words become almost sincere as his eyes soften and his jaw slackens, “go to Prom with me, punk?”

The part of Steve that was cooing at this proposal and that has been hopelessly gone on Bucky since, like, forever takes hold of Steve’s brain.

“I will, jerk,” Steve replies softly. “I’m with you until the end of the line, remember? Doesn’t matter how.”

Bucky’s grip becomes lax, and the peonies plummet to the floor, Steve watching them fall in confusion. Then Bucky rushes forward with lips parted, closing the short distance between them in a matter of seconds.

Soft, warm lips cover Steve’s, and then they’re kissing, but Steve has to reach down and pinch the skin of his wrist. Because he’s dreaming, right? There’s no way he’s actually kissing Bucky Barnes, his best friend and impossible crush.

The crowd around them cheers, and Steve swears he hears Tony yell, “Get it, Barnes!”

Bucky, who has wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist as he cranes his neck downwards, reaches his free hand up and flips Tony the bird.

When they part, the crowd, which has thinned down to mostly their friends, applauds again.

“What was that?” Steve murmurs into Bucky’s ear. Over his shoulder, he catches a glimpse of Natasha, whose jaw has dropped slightly, and he feels satisfaction.

It is damn near impossible to surprise Natasha Romanova, and they have done it.

“Til the end of the line,” Bucky reminds him, clearing his throat with a rough cough. “I had to sell it so that Natasha would buy it.”

“How much more do we have to keep selling it?” Steve asks, rolling his eyes.

“Looks like you’re going to Prom with me,” Bucky says, eyes wide and bluer than the ocean, “or I’ll never get to drive that Corvette.” He pauses awkwardly. “By the way, the chocolate’s in your locker. I had too many things to hold. Make sure you take it out and take it home, or it’ll melt in there.”

On Prom night, Steve and Bucky dress in matching black tuxes, although Steve’s bowtie is navy while Bucky’s is red.

They rent a limo with the rest of their friends, having already refused Tony’s continuous offers that they can just borrow one of his dad’s. Natasha keeps an observant eye on them the entire time.

Tony does bring the alcohol though, and by the time they reach the venue, Steve is tipsy and pink-cheeked, clutching Bucky’s hand tightly.

Although the effects of the alcohol wear off both boys more than an hour later, they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other or lips too far apart as the night draws to an end.

And to Steve’s immense delight, Bucky giddily tells him, “I rented us a hotel room,” as they are ushered off the dance floor by a straight-faced parent chaperone.

“Stevie,” Bucky begins guiltily a week before graduation. “I have something to tell you.”

Steve glances up from his book and rolls over on his bed to face his best friend. “Yeah, Buck?”

“Remember my bet with Natasha?” Bucky states.

Steve sighs. “Honestly, Buck. If you dented the Corvette, I am the worst person to ask. Try Tony; he might actually be able to help you. Natasha won’t spare you if she finds out.”

There is slight amusement in Bucky’s voice, but it’s mostly overshadowed by anxiety. “The bet wasn’t that I do my best to surprise her,” he announces suddenly. “Natasha dared me that I wouldn’t be able to ask you to Prom.”

There is an awkward beat of silence. “And why would she do that?” Steve asks calmly, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Because she knew that I had a major crush on you,” Bucky blurts out. “Which I have had. A crush, I mean. For like what feels like forever.”

Steve stares at Bucky, who seemingly cowers under the blond’s gaze.

Then Steve bursts into hysterical laughter.

“What?” Bucky asks in bewilderment.

Clutching his side, Steve straightens but collapses back onto his bed in a fit of silent laughter. Finally, he reigns himself in and wheezes breathlessly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Did you really think I didn’t know?”

“How?”

“Natasha told me,” Steve states with a growing smile. “If it counts, I’ve had a crush on you since freshmen year.”

“So, this entire time,” Bucky begins in disbelief.

“We’ve actually been dating while you thought we were fake-dating,” Steve confirms and bursts back into laughter.

Bucky scowls. “You little punk. You could have told me. Saved me some pining.”

“To be fair,” Steve comments, stretching out against his bed spread, “Natasha was going to tell you soon. She said she was tired of your whining, jerk!”

“I…I…”

It’s fun to watch Bucky fluster. At least until he gives up.

“I’m gonna get revenge for that,” he declares dramatically. “On everyone, especially Natasha.” He sticks his arms out. “But, since you’re the most convenient, looks like you are my first victim.”

With that, he leaps onto the bed and tickles and kisses a giggling Steve until both of them are bone-tired and cuddling.

[bonniebird]

Young!Reader x Clary /  Young!Reader x Jace

“We could ask Luke if he or the packs seen anything?” Alec offered as they walked together, planning to head out and mill around to see if anything interesting popped up.

“It’s after school (Y/N) will be back from school, we’ll have to stop by a toy store unless you want to take her with us?” Jace muttered as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“I told you not to give her a toy every time you saw her.” Alec chuckled although he knew for a fact that most of Max’s clothes had been handed down to you and he’d enjoyed watching your face light up when he’d given you some of them.

“I know but the kids cute.” Jace grumbled.

By the time, they’d arrived at the Jade Wolf you were bouncing impatiently by the door while Luke tried to go over papers that were sat in front of him, laughing when you clung to Jace’s leg until he dangled a new toy just out of your reach.

“Hey, what do you say?” Luke asked when you excitedly dropped to the floor to tear into the packaging.

“Thank you Jace.” You mumbled before Alec cleared his throat. “Thank you, Alec.”

“You’re welcome.” Alec muttered as they sat with Luke.

 “Something’s going on with the demons, they’re after blood… here, this is all the information I’ve got so far but you might want to look around now and then check it out later.” Luke rolled his eyes when you insisted that you sat next to Jace and got him to hold your pencils while you coloured in.

“Can I go with them?” You asked and they all looked at you.

“Don’t you want to go see Clary and Simon?” Luke asked and you crinkled your nose.

“I wanna go with Jace, I like the fizzy apple juice.” This had the blond avoiding looking at your alpha who chuckled and nodded.

“Fine but it’s Clary’s birthday so you have to at the police station by dinner time.” He warned and you nodded, hurrying to get into black jeans, boots and a matching t-shirt.

“You make a good Shadowhunter.” Alec muttered to you, crouching down to help you tie the laces on your boots while Jace and Luke finished talking.

“So, who’s Clary and Simon?” Jace asked curiously as he set a drink in front of you, having followed a demon he thought might help.

 “They’re Mundanes that Luke knows, I like Clay she draws and has hair like me and she’s always happy.” You smiled and blew bubbles in your drink.

“Oh, cool.” Jace muttered, glancing over at the demon he’d been tailing.

“You know he knows you’re there.” You told Jace who glanced at you. “You smell like angel blood and also you look like one.”

“Oh yeah, you know what you look like?” Jace asked, making a face as he thought of something.

“A beautiful werewolf princess who’s going to be late for a party.” Alec muttered, jerking his head to the door. “I found the one we’re looking for and got Izzy to pull up any activity so we can follow it up tonight, shouldn’t be big.”

“I don’t want to go, Jocey makes me eat my vegetables.” You grumbled, both boys chuckled and motioned for you to follow them.

“Come on you can take your drink.” Jace grabbed your cup and popped the lid on as you grabbed a straw and followed Alec outside.

 Jace dropped you off while Alec headed back to find Izzy, you reluctantly clung to Jace while Luke met you outside.

“I’m sure you’ll see him soon.” Luke chuckled as Jace managed to detangle himself on to have you cling to his arm.

“But Jace is my favourite.” You pouted in frustration.

“And you are my favourite Downworlder in the whole wide world, but I have to check up on something and its very dangerous.” Jace mumbled to you, crouching down as if it was a secret despite the fact that Luke could hear. “But can you do me a favour and watch Luke for me?”

“Yes, I can do it… and I have this for you.” You pulled out a tiny flashlight that Jace knew had probably come out of some sort of mini toy dispenser and would light up absolute nothing.

“You know what, my witch light broke and I could really use this, thanks kiddo.” He smiled when you grinned and hugged him before getting into Luke’s cruiser, waving until you couldn’t see Jace anymore.

*********************************** 

Everyone jumped when alarms went off, an unexpected Downworlder was trying to get into the building. When Jace spotted, you he hurried to fix it, expecting you to have simply got turned around.

“Clary!” You gasped and everyone else turned to look at you.

“(Y/N) what’re you doing here?” Clary asked as she rushed over. “I’m so glad you’re ok!”

“Scary men came to my school and tried to find Luke and Jocey… The house was on fire and I got scared.” You cried and she lifted you up with a heaving groan.

“It’s ok, Luke’s ok.” She smiled through tears and Simon hurried over, quickly managing to make you laugh.

“You ok kiddo?” Jace asked when he came back and ruffled your hair.

“I wanna go home.” You mumbled into Clary’s shoulder.

“We’ll try and get hold of Luke, for now (Y/N) you need to stay inside.” Alec smiled when you nodded and stick your tongue out at Jace who was making faces at you.

 Things went weird after that day. No one told you anything, something Max seemed to complain about all the time, but you got to stay with Jace and Clary so the pack did have to worry about you. You quickly learnt the art of avoiding Izzy’s food and that when Alec pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh he’d been pushed too far.

“We’ll need the little one.” Someone muttered. Jace frowned as he ducked around a corner, you were playing hide and seek and he was worried you’d gone into Hodge’s office.

“I can get her.” He shook his head and moved on, assuming it was something else and went to find you, stopping when he heard a giggle and spotted you under the stairs.

“You found me.” You cheered and giggled as he plopped you onto his shoulders.

“I’m the best Shadowhunter ever, I’ll always find you.” Jace smiled when you smiled sleepily and set you down so you could go and find Clary.

*************************************** 

“(Y/N).” Hodge called and you hurried after him.

“Yes Hodge.” You answered politely just like Alec had told you.

“Jace has a job for you but I’ll need you to wait here until I’ve had a chat with Lydia, ok?” He asked and you nodded, waiting obediently until he returned and you followed him out into the streets.

“Where are, we going, shouldn’t Jace be with us?” You asked when an unsettling feeling bubbled in your stomach.

“I have her, she’s for Valentine, his tests.” Hodge said as two huge Shadowhunters appeared.

You screamed and tried to run, even biting them but nothing worked and you were hoisted away. When you finally stopped fighting they set you down but this time you didn’t know where you were.

“Hello there.” You turned to the voice and your eyes widened in fear. “You’re going to help me.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Jace hissed as Hodge cowered below him.

“The pet werewolf you and Clary have?” He grunted. “She’s an experiment now.”

“You’re lying, she’s just… she went to find Luke.” He snapped, lashing out which turned to a new round of fighting.

He didn’t know why he isn’t tell Alec when he stopped him, he could have said something and they would have found you together, but this was his fault and he knew it. He couldn’t figure out why but it was.

He made the decision to find you alone, make up for it, after all he’d promised to always find you. When he burst into Camille’s apartment he had intended on fighting him until he gave you up, getting the information he needed by force.

 “Jace please don’t.” Clary whispered, but he couldn’t shake the guilt enough to see reason. He dropped one of his weapons, his other hand tossing something to Alec so quickly only perhaps Simon had seen it.

With that he slowly followed Valentine. He was going to find you, the little wolf pup he and Alec had saved and brought to Luke, even if Clary didn’t understand.

“Jace!” Clary screeched but Alec stopped her diving after him.

He spoke softly but she barely registered what he was saying until he held up the tiny torch you’d give Jace and dangled it from his fingers.

 “Valentine has (Y/N), Jace will find her, he’s too distracted with finding her to think about much else.” Alec glanced down at her when Clary seemed to focus on him. “We found her abandoned, she’s turned once and it was far, far too early, her parents freaked out and just left her… he carried her under his jacket halfway across New York to get to Luke and made him swear to take care of her.”

“It’s why he’s so close with her, she almost didn’t make it but the pack managed to heal her.” Izzy mumbled, hugging onto Clary.

“You’re sure?” She asked and they both nodded. 

“He keeps all of her gifts, even rocks and leaves that she gives him, he wouldn’t give this up if it wasn’t a message.” Alec promised.

[lethe-distillery-blog]

The Beast

I felt the low rumble that came before a few heartbeats before I heard it. The sound coming rolling in like the steady beat of thunder through the quiet suburban neighborhood I called home. With its low steady growl, it vibrated my glass of water, causing ripples across its surface. I smiled to myself, thinking of my neighbor, Mrs. Hodges, would likely being throwing a fit as her delicate china rattled about in their rows. Mr. Rains, down the street, would likely be shaking his head on his patio, lemonade in hand, and muttering about stupid young boys being boys. Not that he could talk mind you, the stories that man told when his wife wasn't within earshot made me blush, and that took a bit. Still though, I couldn't stop my heart from racing, my entire body reacted to the sound as readily as though I were on her again. The smooth feel of the wheels on pavement, the wind blasting your chest, the feeling of freedom that came at going down the highway with nothing but space between you and the world that flashed by.

I smiled and put aside my book, I didn't even bother being coy; it would be obvious enough to anyone looking anyways. My nipples tightened, my breathing came out in a rush, hot desire pooled in my belly in my eager anticipation. I took my glass and dumped it in the sink and closed my eyes with a smile. Ezekiel. He flashed to mind even before I had the pleasure of rolling his name on my tongue. His dark eyes flashed like obsidian, shards of gold and green locked within the depths so deep they nearly appeared black. His sensuous lips held a wicked promise that I had more than once gotten drunk from my need to imbibe. His scent was an intoxicating cocktail of man, oil, and the eucalyptus mint of his body wash. All man, all sensual tantalizing desire. I shivered in the memory of his touch, of the scrape of stubble against my skin, the hot breath over intimate parts of my body, and many more, more carnal memories.

My eyes flashed as the sound grew nearer, the low thunder building through to a crescendo, a sound so low on the spectrum that you felt it, more than you heard it. Mrs. Hodges would definitely be in a tizzy. I found myself moving to the door before I had even realized it and there, as I opened it, was my own dark god. My secret, sensuality on display for the entire world to see. His long legs were sheathed in faded denim that came across as a shade between black and grey. His torso was covered in black leather, from waist to neck and extending down his fingertips, the full face black helmet obscuring the features she knew intimately. Honestly, as much as I enjoyed the Saturday afternoons we shared on the Harley, it was his insistence on safety that had made me even consider getting on the beast.

I had just started stepping forward to greet him as he shut down when I heard Mrs. Hodges tinny voice call out. "You again." There was a sigh, "I should have known, you're going to break all my valuables soon enough."

Ezekial took a moment to reach up and remove his helmet and I couldn't help staring, his long raven curls glistened in the sunlight going through the hues of the rainbow in the sunlight reflections. His grin was infectious. "I'm sorry Sandy," his voice was a rich baritone that could make my toes curl, "I could pick you up some doilies if you think that would help, it would them not rattle on each other and help prevent chipping." He opened his arms to me and I gladly accepted the hug, though it was awkward as he still had yet to stop straddling the bike. I knew I wasn't supposed to be shocked that he knew Mrs. Hodges by name, he was a remarkable man, and I would lay bets, now that I thought about it, that he was the reason that her hedges had been pruned, the time lined up from last time he was here. Perhaps when I had to run to the office for a moment, I'd have to ask about it later.

Mrs. Hodges' old features turned into a kind smile, "You're a fine young man, no, it's alright, my daughter is coming next week with her husband, I'll see if she can bring me some." Zeke nodded his understanding as he kicked down the stand for the bike and I stepped back to let him off it, though I desperately wanted to stay near him.

"I understand, I really am sorry," 'sweet talker,' my own internal monologue interjected, "I don't mean to give you undue stress."

Mrs. Hodges waved her hand at him in a dismissive gesture, "It's alright, worry more about you on that mobile coffin than anything now."

Zeke's face broke in a shit-eating grin as he trailed me up the walk, the beast behind us ticking like some sort of bomb as it cooled off in the summer sun. The black metal sleek and powerful, like some predator awaiting its next victim. "I'll be alright Sandy," he winked at the woman old enough to be his grandmother, "promise." Mrs. Hodges went back inside her house, muttering something under her breath as she ducked back inside sparing only a moment to give us a wave before I stepped into the much cooler confines of home. I had barely stepped in the door before Zeke had spun me, and pressed me to the wall. I opened myself to his onslaught willingly, our lips crushing together, our tongues picking up a furious desperate tempo. It was as though he had never left. He kicked the door closed with a boot, "Fuck," the word came out in a low slow breath and he pressed his forehead to mine and I wrapped my arms around his waist. "I missed you." His voice sounded strangled.

"I missed you too," I looked up into those beautiful midnight eyes that helped me captivated, "I missed you yesterday, and the day before that, and the week before that." Our lips met again, not nearly so furious in their passion but the tenderness there, the love, left me just as breathless as he pulled away again, his long fingers toying their way through my hair and down my back.

"I'm sorry it took so long, work got out of hand and days tend to start merging together when you put in fourteen hour days." I touched my fingers over his lips silencing his words. I knew the reason, and I hadn't meant to make him feel guilty for him trying to get a motorcycle repair shop off the ground. I knew it had been busy, I had heard it in his voice when he had called me as he nuked himself a microwave dinner. Honestly, I had just wanted to show him how valuable he was to me, how cherished, how much I thought of him. It killed me a little bit, knowing how many people had told him they missed him to only make him feel guilty, as though he didn't do enough for them and that he should do more. I wanted to beat them for it.

"Shh," I kissed his lips lightly, "That's not what I meant and you know it," I knew he didn't but it took the sting out. I looked to the time, it was five past ten. "Why don't you go take a nap and I'll get dinner together."

"I hate squandering even a single moment I get to cherish with you." His voice was tired, but he was forcing himself awake.

And this is why I love you, you obstinate thoughtful beast, so considerate that it makes everyone else seem neglectful. "Come on," I took his hand, let's go to bed." He raised an eyebrow, I knew the hope. "Later," I promised, not that I could wait either but it terrified me knowing he had driven over, this tired, on the bike. If something had happened to him; it would kill me.

"Fine," his word was testy, but the exhaustion that took hold took all the venom out of the single syllable. He collapsed heavily onto the bed and slowly began taking off the jacket he hadn't even removed. I helped with the boots, peeling them off his feet and setting them aside followed by the socks, when I went to go for his fly he stopped me with a tender, but firm hold. "I've got it," at my frown of confusion he let out a slow breath. "I know you were just trying to be helpful, but if I am naked around you, or if you touch me there, you'll be coming to bed too, and we're not going to be sleeping." Oh. Well yeah, that made sense.

I smiled knowingly, and we shared one more kiss. "Get some sleep, I'll wake you up at lunch."

He nodded, moving so slowly that I knew how tired he really must be. "Please, don't let me stay asleep too long," I knew how hard he slept when he was this tired, he struggled to wake. Most times he struggled to sleep, even put it off point of fact, but when he finally gave in, usually when he was here, with me, he could easily sleep nearly twenty hours. He always hated the time he wasted when he was supposed to be with me, but I always cherished it, knowing that I made him feel safe, and appreciated.

"I won't," I promised, and closed the door after shutting off the light, leaving the room in a dusky state of nonlight. I barely heard the quietly murmured thank you before I saw his entire body relax into my mattress. My heart broke for my Zeke. He was more like Atlas, taking on the weight of the world as he fought to find his place in it. Where I had had some help getting to where I was now he had absolutely no one to rely on but himself. Everything he had ever done or owned was entirely his, which though he took pride in it, I knew it was hard on him. The stress of taking care of others when they always seemed to expect more from him than the last time. I wanted to help, but I never knew what to do. He seemed too strong, so impervious, whenever I asked about his health or wellbeing he brushed it off. It had taken me a long while to know that it was a defense mechanism brought on by years of neglect, because before me, no one had cared.

I finished my chapter, though it took a lot longer. Difficult to concentrate with a sex god in one's bed and trying to not go in there and ravish him. I looked to the clock and jerked, holy shit, where did the time go? It was already twenty past eleven. Good thing I had been considering simple for lunch, just some soup and sandwiches. I replaced the bookmark and set Agatha Christie aside for now. I scrounged through my fridge and pulled out the leftover bone broth I had made the other day, I searched around and found some leftover chicken and smiled, chicken salad sandwiches and bone broth soup it was.

I opened the door slowly, moving carefully to make sure there wasn't a noise. He looked exquisite, lying there, bathed in the dim light. His skin a beautiful caramel in the dim light that came in through my blinds, his hair was tousled over the pillows, and I was selfishly happy for that. Even though I stole sweaters, shirts, or anything else I could get my hands on from him, there was some satisfaction in lying in bed when he wasn't here and be able to smell him surrounding me. But he was here now, in bed, deliciously half dressed and I couldn't stop myself as I moved towards him and kissed the skin that was still warm to the touch despite how cold I kept the A.C. still, he was positively mouthwatering. I laid kisses over his sternum, feeling each rumble of breath, feeling the raw power of him beneath me.

Before I thought better of it, I crawled on top of him and straddled his hips, I kept my movements slow, careful to not wake him, anticipating the sweet shock on his face when he awoke to feel himself inside me, and my riding him. He had done it to me a couple times actually, waking me up in the middle of the night when he couldn't take it anymore and he was buried inside me, my legs propped over his shoulders, and his low growl making me instantly wet. Despite my precautions, he awoke, groggily he reached for me, eyes barely open a slit but I could see the space between the long lashes. My name slipped from his mouth in a husky voice and he reached for me, despite the warmth and love that flowed through me, I took his wrists and smiled down at him. "Let me," I whispered.

"But-," I cut off his protests with a tender kiss, savoring the softness of his lips, the brush of his stubble, but most importantly, I savored the way he let me lead. It felt, incredible really. As though I held beneath me the same raw powerful predator that sat in my driveway, and as he growled into the kiss, it even vibrated the same. Our kiss was impassioned, long, slow, letting out love, desire, and aches we had for each other in a blissful wave of warmth. Our frenzy was of hunger and need, love and desire, respect and care. It was so much more than I had ever experienced before him, this, was very nearly perfect. Or at least as close as one was ever allowed to come.

I slid my fingers over his skin, savoring the way his breathing faltered, the way that chills spread over his skin following my touch, he was a magnificent creature, a haunting perfection of form that sometimes left me feeling inadequate. Still though, I couldn't release him I cherished him too damn much and I was too selfish to release him. I would keep him for as long as I possibly could. I moved slowly over his body, memorizing the rippling planes of muscle with fingertip, lips, and tongue. Savoring the sweet, silky saltness that was my Ezekiel.

I slowly pulled down his jeans, savoring the blistering heat that he scorched me with, true to my asking, he let me please him, though I could tell from his rigidness how desperately he wanted to touch me, it was its own form of turn on. However, I wanted to torture him, to make him regret waking up before I had had time to make him fill me. His shaft same free and I smiled at the shudder of his muscles as I slid my hands over the velvet wrapped steel of his manhood. It felt hot to the touch, and when I kissed the tip of him I smiled knowingly as he jerked unconciously. I did the same whenever he tied me to the bed and tortured me to sweet impassioned torment. I met his eyes as I slowly, ever so slowly, took him into my mouth.

His growl was a low rumble that vibrated through him, his hands clutched the sheets, and I could feel the tension of his muscles as he fought to not have his hips jerk. He was salty to the taste, rich and exquisite he was divine on my tongue. I swallowed, allowing my throat to tighten around the head of him and I smiled as his head thrashed about, his fingers toyed with my hair, helpfully stroking it back from my face so then I didn't choke on it, I had enough issue not choking on him, the hair would just be humiliating. I slid my touch over what I couldn't quite get into my mouth, he never pushed me, honestly, he had seemed almost startled the first time I had ever gone down on him. He shook and shuddered beneath me, his legs twitching beneath me and I smiled around him. It was empowering to be this entirely in control of a man.

Suddenly his fingers tightened in my hair, not painfully, just enough to stop me moving. "You, need to stop." His words were broken apart by low whimpering growls. "If you don't," his words shook under the weight of the pleasure, "I am going to embarrass myself and disappoint us both." I pulled back slowly, slightly disappointed but knowing what he wasn't telling me, he was close to his climax, and the pleasure of driving him to that state made me hot and bothered in the best sort of way. That said though, I did give it one final lick to clear off the bead of pre on the tip making him shudder violently beneath me making me smile.

I pulled my panties off from under my sundress and tucked it up around my hips as I moved slowly and let him help guide himself into me. My moan harmonized with his hissing snarl, his eyes flickered beneath me as he fought to control himself, for me. I took his hands this time started slowly rotating my hips to grind myself into him. He felt perfect there, as though the gods themselves had designed our bodies to perfectly fit with each other. Incredible didn't even come close to describing it. The way his thick cock slid into me, slowly, each thrust working into me before pulling out before I thrust it back in. His own growls were sensual and feral as he shuddered beneath me, his hands tightening on mine.

It was like taking control of some animal taking my Zeke to bed, it was one part exhilarating, one part terrifying, and one part hot as hell. This passion, desire that filled me until I couldn't even think straight as he lifted his hips to meet each thrust of my hips. Hard and desperate. Those two words were what described our passion, our hunger for each other. My breasts bounced in my dress, eager to be free, desperate for his touch, the way my entire body sang for him alone. It was too much. My climax came hard and fast, letting it engulf me I screamed out his name. I felt his own howl ripple through me as he came when I collapsed over his chest. Our hands clutching each other as we splintered apart, making sure that when we came back, we would be here, together.

He came back to himself first, though I wasn't sure if it had been several minutes or not, I was still struggling to remember how to breathe right. "Holy shit," his breathing was still ragged in my ear, "holy fucking shit, that," he squeezed my fingers lightly, "you, were incredible." I completely agreed, but I had no idea how to make words yet, breathing was just becoming manageable. His next words cut me to the bone for what he must have been through. "I'm sorry I came so fast, I'll do better next time."

My heart broke for my Ezekiel. It killed me that people in his life had done nothing but hurt him, terribly. I stroked his chest lightly with our fingers. "No, baby," my voice came out harsh and he took my water bottle from the nightstand, opened it, and offered it to me. I took a drink and smiled gratefully before trying again. "No, baby. You, are perfection," I touched his lip with a fingertip to stop an argument, "You are perfect to me." I saw the doubt, but as I lifted my finger he kissed it rather than argue. I laid myself over him, he wrapped a blanket over us so we wouldn't catch a chill.

We stayed like that for a long few minutes before he kissed my temple and we got up together to go to the kitchen for lunch. "What's all this?" He smiled as he sat down and I brought soup and sandwiches to the table.

"It's lunch you silly thing."

He kissed my knuckles, "It looks incredible, thank you."

We ate in silence, holding hands, much like a married couple, it was relaxing and sweet, though my hips, and throat, still hurt a little, I would have it no other way. He ate two sandwiches, even though he was pristine, he was trying to lose weight. I said I would help, though I personally found him perfect. "You haven't asked about them." I regretted saying anything as soon as I did seeing the flicker of pain before his eyes went flat.

He shrugged, "I basically became an orphan." What killed me, was he wasn't wrong. He lived an entirely solitary existence without anyone around him, except me. I almost felt guilty, but I knew his mother, she was a clingy desperate creature that thrived on needing to feel wanted, to feel beautiful. She had basically abandoned him, I doubted she even called at his birthdays since I had been with him for the last few. It killed me that he was so alone.

"Lincoln asked if you were doing alright," his shoulder shrugged, and and I squeezed his fingers. I knew it was defense, better to let no one get close because they would just leave. Lucky for me, I had no real experience with that, my two brothers constantly got on my case about everything and my father wasn't much better. Babying me so much that I swear he thought I was in grade school and not in my mid-twenties. What killed me about it all though, was that as much as my father treasured me, and made sure my brothers had everything they ever wanted; he didn't do the same for Ezekiel, even though he had married Miranda more than three years ago.