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[bbk-writes]

Sometimes two people lose someone but find each other.

[bbk-writes]

Notes: approx 2k words of an extremely fluffy and over the top story where Magnus tries to find a nickname / appropriate term of endearment for Alec.  Magnus never looks through his mail. “It’s all mundane trash,” he says. “Everyone in the building gets it. If someone actually wants to send me something, there are much easier ways of getting it to me than sending it through the American postal system. Even bills get sent directly to my email now!” 

This leaves it up to Alec to rifle through the fliers, sales papers, and community notices that get delivered to the apartment over the course of the week.

“Oh, this sounds nice,” says Alec one morning over breakfast. “There’s a harvest festival happening in Westchester in a couple weeks. You interested?”

“When is it?”

“Second weekend in October,” reads Alec off the notice. “Featuring mazes, a farmer’s market, hay rides, and over a hundred local vendors.”

The more details Alec learns about this, the more charmed he is and even before Magnus nods, Alec can tell by the pleased look on his face that Magnus is in. It’s the kind of thing Magnus clearly loves even though he always feels the need to qualify that enjoyment by contrasting it with the other, grander experiences he’s had. 

As if on cue, Magnus says, “Sounds like a plan, pumpkin. It’s not quite the Tết Trung Thu, but what is?”

The, “Great, I’ll put that on the calendar,” that’s at the tip of Alec’s tongue is abruptly cut off, replaced instead with a confused, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you just say?”

Magnus looks as though he has no idea what Alec’s talking about. But Magnus is also a master conman, so Alec’s calling bullshit. “I said we should go?”

“Not that,” says Alec. “I meant what’s with the–” Alec makes what he hopes is an explanatory hand gesture, “the pumpkin– thing–”

“Oh!” Magnus brightens. “That’s just something I’m trying out. I quite like it, I think.”

Alec still doesn’t fully understand what’s happening, or why it’s happening, but he knows what his response is. “Magnus, no.”

“But,” says Magnus, looking meaningfully toward Alec’s ass.

“No,” repeats Alec, face getting hot. “Also, inaccurate.”

“I’ll be the judge of what’s accurate or not when it comes to your behind, thank you very much.” Then, somewhat slyly, “Though I will leave you to be the judge, jury, and executioner for mine. And while we’re on the topic. Alexander, if you had to describe my assets using a singular, all encapsulating word–”

Joke’s on Magnus if he thinks he’s going to catch Alec off-guard with this request. Alec, who has spent perhaps an inadvisable amount of time thinking about Magnus’ assets during the time they’ve known one another, already knows what his answer is.

“A ten,” he says immediately, and Magnus looks immensely pleased. Alec’s opinion on this matter can’t be a surprise to Magnus though, and when Alec points it out, Magnus doesn’t pretend otherwise.

“Well, no. But it’s always nice to be told something nice, even if it’s for the forty-fifth time.”

The number can’t be that low, but Alec has more pressing matters at hand. “Okay, we’re getting off topic. Don’t try and make this whole… pumpkin… thing… into something.” The words sound familiar to his ears, and Alec remembers why. “Didn’t we already talk about this before?”

Magnus suddenly seems to find his forgotten breakfast very interesting. “I can’t recall.”

“Hmm,” says Alec. “Well, all right. Try and remember this time please. This sort of – nickname – isn’t really for me.”

And immediately, Magnus’ eyes snaps back to Alec and Alec knows he just said something wrong. Magnus doesn’t look like he heard what Alec had been trying to say at all. He doesn’t look resigned or disappointed or playfully grumpy at Alec.

Instead, the sparkle that’s always present in Magnus’ warm gaze is suddenly brighter, more mischievous.

“Oh?” says Magnus, intrigued. “So the problem is that it’s just not the right name for you?”

Alec realizes his mistake.

-

No amount of Alec insisting that that’s not what he meant will convince Magnus otherwise. “I’m going to find the right one if it’s the last thing I do.”

“You really don’t have to make a promise like that about something like this,” Alec tries to say.

“It’s not a promise, Alexander. It’s a vow.”

Magnus says this as though calling this fool’s quest a vow is supposed to have the whole thing suddenly make sense to Alec. It doesn’t. When Alec, in no uncertain terms, tells him, “Vow or not, there’s no way I’m changing my mind about this,” Magnus had taken it as a personal challenge.

Except not a challenge in the truest definition of the word. Mostly Magnus just starts suggesting things that are so nonsensical or outright terrible that it’s become some kind of game for him, and the way Magnus measures success is by how broadly he manages to make Alec smile.

“A-ha!” says Magnus, when Alec can’t quite hide his reaction to hearing ‘angelcake.’ “That goes on the shortlist, then. We’re making progress, Alexander. You’re partial to names which highlight your temperament and racial makeup.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Alec says loudly, pressing his lips together so they don’t betray him. He focuses on his task at hand, cutting carrots into little cubes to put into the stew they’ll have for dinner. Don’t break, he tells himself. Stay strong.

“Hummingbird,” tries Magnus next, broaching into another category. “No, swan. Tiger. Lioness. Beautiful, ferocious creatures like yourself.”

He looks at Alec in question and Alec just stares back. Those don’t even warrant a verbal response, which Magnus takes with surprising grace.

“What about stallion?” muses Magnus and Alec almost cuts off his whole hand. Magnus immediately takes notice. “Oh? Do you like that? My sexy, warrior stallion–”

“Magnus. No. Absolutely not.”

“Perhaps I’ll save that for the bedroom,” concedes Magnus. “Just between us. Although I’m sure everyone suspects your achievements, best not to give potential suitors any concrete facts.”

Alec should really be putting a stop to this more firmly but he recognizes that he’s the absolute worst at ruining Magnus’ fun, even when it’s at his own expense. At least Magnus very courteously only plays this game when they’re by themselves, which is quite sweet.

And so Alec says, “I’ll tell you right now that nothing based on food or animals is going to be a winner.”

“Oh?” says Magnus. “Are you saying that I should be trying a different tactic?”

“I’m saying that this is a lost cause and you should be very discouraged. Maybe you can slice some of these zucchinis instead of–” Magnus carelessly waves a hand and the zucchinis disappear and re-appear in a bowl, washed and cut into little half-circles. “Oh, is that how we’re doing this now?.”

For a moment, Magnus is silent. He’s looking at Alec thoughtfully, chin resting at the heel of a palm. Alec can almost see the wheels turning in his head. It makes Alec nervous, but also, bizarrely curious. Magnus’ mind is something else, and even in this context Alec finds it incredibly sexy.

And then Magnus says, “Light of my life.”

“No,” says Alec automatically. It’s his instinctive response, but also– “That’s not even a noun. That’s a – that’s a whole phrase.”

“Apple of my eye,” persists Magnus, ignoring Alec’s completely valid points. “Lily of my pond.”

“My God,” says Alec. “No.”

“Beat of my heart, sun of my sky–”

Alec can’t help it – he throws a dishtowel toward Magnus’ general vicinity to stop his menacing. In response, Magnus makes a show of pulling out a little notebook.

“Suuun-of-my-skyyyy,” he recites as he writes the words down. Alec really should be putting a stop to this, but he ends up just shaking his head instead. “That’s another one for the shortlist.”

-

Magnus takes to this new angle with renewed enthusiasm. Which is saying a lot, since it’s not like any of his enthusiasm had actually diminished at any point since he gave himself the job to find a term of endearment Alec would be comfortable with.

“You should pursue a career in poetry,” says Alec, even as he just refused a series of Magnus’ latest epithets. “Clearly you’ve got a talent.”

“Yes, well – sometimes a man’s heart is just bursting with songs about his love,” says Magnus. “A love so vast that it can’t be kept quiet, a human – or, well, warlock – body too delicate to rein it all in. What am I supposed to do when I have to express such a feeling?”

“Well, when I get that way, I usually just come and kiss you,” answers Alec frankly. “I say, ‘Magnus, I love you.’ Sometimes I try to take your shirt off. Those kinds of things.”

Magnus looks terribly, unexpectedly charmed. “Oh, stop it. You can’t be so sweet when I’m teasing you, Alexander. That takes the fun out of it.”

“Does this mean you’re going to stop with this?”

“Never,” says Magnus solemnly.

-

It’s an accident when Magnus finally stumbles onto something that works.

“Did you see my grimoire, darling?” Magnus asks, digging through his meticulously organized shelf. “Volume four, covering my discoveries from 1862 to 1907?”

Alec hasn’t, but instead of saying so he goes, “...That works.”

“Hmm?”

“You know.” Alec’s face is very hot. He needs to power through this conversation. “That. Your self-appointed mission to call me something that isn’t my actual name. That one. That one is okay.”

Magnus slowly spins around to face him. He looks a combination of confused and disgruntled, and Alec can see him rewinding the last few seconds in his mind.

Alec can also see the exact moment everything slots neatly into place.

“Oh,” says Magnus. His whole expression brightens and he sounds absolutely delighted. He seems to have forgotten about his missing grimoire as he starts toward Alec. “Oh, I’m a fool. How could I have not considered the fact that Alexander Gideon Lightwood is traditional man in all the right ways? Darling. Darling Alexander. Is that right?”

“Well.” Alec’s not going to say that that’s right, but it’s definitely... it’s nice to hear Magnus say that in reference to Alec. Always has been. Alec should’ve taken some initiative, done some self-reflection, and suggested it himself. “It’s nice. Normal. Nothing crazy.”

Magnus nods along to all that. “Yes, you’re right, it’s perfect.”

“Great,” says Alec, releasing a deep, relieved breath. “Now that we’re done with that–”

“And what about… beloved?” Magnus tries it out. The look on his face as he gazes at Alec is far too gentle for what is essentially a joke gone too far.

The way Alec reacts to it is even worse. Suddenly flustered, Alec has to clear his throat before he can say, “Good. That’s also… that’s fine. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” says Magnus, taking Alec’s face in between his hands and pressing a kiss to his mouth. “Sweetheart,” murmurs Magnus, thumb stroking along Alec’s flushed cheeks. Even though he states it, there’s still a question in his voice.

Heart hammering in his chest, Alec nods. It feels like giving too much away, but – but it’s Magnus. What’s there left inside of Alec that he hasn’t already given to him?

“Sweetheart,” repeats Magnus, and kisses Alec again. “Dearest. Darling.”

“All – all good contenders there.”

This is. This is definitely a thing. Alec closes his eyes, blood rushing in his ears.

He definitely has a thing for this.

And then Magnus says, “Alexander,” and the way he does – well. He’s clearly not just trying to get Alec’s attention.

The four syllables are said with the same trace of suggestion as all the others before it. If Alec had known this was in the running–

“I didn’t know this was an option.”

“No? It’s always been my favourite one.”

That spark of mischief is back in Magnus’ gaze, and Alec is ready to have this be the happy ending of this roundabout journey.

“Well, then,” he says. “Looks like you have your winner.”

[bbk-writes]

Notes: approximately 3k words of Alec turning 30, and Magnus giving him an absolutely bonkers gift because hey, the love of his life conquering an entire decade deserves nothing less. 

When Alec turned twenty-six, Magnus had taken him to Amsterdam for a weekend of debauchery that took Alec all of the subsequent week to recover from. Every time Magnus had thought that maybe he should pull the plug on it, another round of tequila shots appeared out of nowhere and Alec would take immense pleasure in pressing a wet, decadent kiss to Magnus’ wrist before dashing it with salt. The way Magnus’ blood lit on fire each time had been animalistic. Being married to Alec hadn’t lessened how much Magnus wanted to do terrible things to him, but being pressed together by a crush of tourists and locals under the pulsing lights – it was something else. Alec had been something else when they’d finally stumbled back to their hotel room. Magnus almost can’t believe those two days even happened, the whole thing seemingly from a particularly lush, depraved fantasy someone pulled from Magnus’ mind and made into reality.

But that was when Alec was twenty-six. When they were newly settling into Alicante, settling into their new jobs, and consciously settling into this shared life with each other.

At thirty, things are very, very different.

Taking care of two young children is the kind of responsibility that doesn’t allow for impromptu getaways. The two of them still have numerous much-needed date nights, but Alec’s birthday isn’t one of them: all birthdays are family events. The look on Alec’s face when he has waffles brought to bed by a solemn Rafael and a cheerful Max toddling beside him is a gift to Magnus in ways he can’t quite articulate. Seeing Alec draw them close, press kisses tenderly to their temples. Catching Magnus’ gaze over the top of the boys’ heads, mouthing, thank you, for something that Magnus never needs gratitude from Alec for, not when it’s his due.

Presents were next, followed by a portal to New York for lunch with the Lightwoods (though they’d call it breakfast), and then back in Alicante with ample time before dinner so the boys could take naps. In that stillness that can only happen with both the kids passed out, Alec pulls Magnus close under the warm afternoon sun and kisses him with slow, deliberate intent.

It’s not just the two of them again until past ten in the evening.

Raf wants a very specific story tonight in his mother tongue, and Magnus curls up beside him and reads until Raf’s sound asleep. By the time Magnus gently extricates himself from Raf’s bony limbs and makes his way to their bedroom, Alec has already showered and changed into his sleep clothes. He’s settled comfortably on the bed – scrolling through his phone with his back against the headboard, bare feet crossed at the ankles – and looks up when he hears Magnus open the door.

The sight of him in their bed, bathed in warm golden light, is such a comfort that Magnus feels the rigid hold he’s held around his exhaustion abruptly vanish. It’s how it’s supposed to be in a sanctuary, when to the depths of his bones Magnus knows it’s safe to be this way.

“Hey,” Alec greets, putting aside his phone. The way Alec’s body relaxes, moves just so as though to create a welcoming space for Magnus – well. Magnus doesn’t hesitate to take what’s being offered, crawling over their duvet and collapsing against his side.

“You got the easy one today,” Magnus complains into Alec’s shoulder.

“Magnus, Max is never the easy one.”

“That’s what I was banking on, but clearly tonight’s the exception that proves the rule.”

Alec takes Magnus’ hands between his own and starts to slowly twist the rings off.

“Raf was grumpy tonight?” he asks, and Magnus looks away from the strangely mesmerizing sight of Alec’s fingers at work to focus on his question.

“Not exactly..."

It would be easy to play it off as that and grumble out some more playful complaints, but there’s something terribly sweet about Raf that makes it impossible for Magnus to tease him the way he can tease Max without blinking an eye. That Magnus sees Raf, at five, as a little person is part of it, a person who has had a hard life in the blink of time he’s been on this Earth. That he’s also quiet and gentle and wide-eyed with this fragile trust he has with them is another.

Magnus sighs as Alec takes off the last of the rings, depositing them on the bedside table. He then moves on to unclasp Magnus’ watch.

“No,” he says at last. “No, he wasn’t grumpy. He’s just – he just had a hard time falling asleep and didn’t want to be alone.”

“D’you think one of us should stay with him? Camp out on the floor for the night?”

“No, no, I don’t think that’s necessary. I think he was a little overwhelmed after all the rushing around today. New York and keeping up with the constant barrage of attention from his aunts and uncles and grandma left him a bit wired, maybe.  Reading together helped – he seemed fine by the time he fell asleep.”

“Well, of course,” says Alec, matter-of-fact. “How better to feel safe and settled than with his papa, the most powerful man in Alicante?”

“Oh, stop.”

This must be the millionth time Alec’s said something like this, but that doesn’t stop Magnus from being hit with a swell of fondness each time. A tiny reminder of the kind of man Magnus joined his life with: sweet, a little playful, never pulling short with his affection and Magnus doesn’t know if he’s the most powerful person in Alicante, but he’s definitely the most blessed.

Magnus shakes himself out of it. He really is becoming a sentimental old man if a throwaway joke from Alec is all he needs to get like this. But it’s Alec’s birthday, and Magnus has spent all day and every day that preceded unable to think of anything else but this: I love you he thinks, and says it by pressing a kiss to the corner of Alec’s mouth.

“I still haven’t given you your birthday present,” Magnus murmurs, fingers curling into Alec’s hair.

“You can give it to me right now,” says Alec, and it takes just one look at his grinning face for Magnus to understand what he’s talking about.

“I mean your other birthday present. One that isn’t just my body. Which you have access to everyday, might I remind you–”

“Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m so – what’s the term–”

“Goal-oriented?” suggests Magnus, and laughs when Alec gives him a flat look.

“I was going to say, low maintenance.”;

“Maybe sometimes I want to maintain you more,” says Magnus without really thinking about it, even though there’s nothing about that sentence that makes sense and yet Alec seems to understand exactly what Magnus had meant to say. That little bit of mischief in Alec’s eyes soften into something else entirely. It’s a look that still has Magnus want to look away sometimes, the weight of that tenderness almost too much to bear.

They say that you never get used to sunsets no matter how many thousands you see. It must be the same when it comes to Alexander: not his handsomeness, exactly, but how the secrets of his uncommonly loving heart are so clearly etched in the lines of his lovely, beloved face.

“You’re sweet,” says Alec. “And whatever this gift is, you know I’m gonna love it.”

“And just so there aren’t any misunderstandings,” clarifies Magnus, “I’m also planning on performing extremely depraved acts on your body tonight.”

“Oh, good.”

Glancing at his watch Magnus mutters, “If only your parabatai would just get himself over here–”

Thathas Alec immediately pulling back.

“Uh,” he says, giving Magnus a suspicious glance. “Why exactly would Jace be coming here at eleven at night?”

“Because your present is outside the apartment,” says Magnus. “And we can’t just leave the kids here unsupervised.”

“Is that the real reason why he portaled to Alicante with us?”

“Yes,” says Magnus, and just then the wards let him know that Jace entered the building. “Oh, perfect, he’s here. You don’t have to change, but put on some shoes and a sweater, will you?”

Magnus presses one more kiss to Alec’s mouth and swings off the bed, suddenly full of anticipatory energy. In the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter when exactly he shows this to Alec, and yet it’s of the utmost importance for Magnus to have it be today.

Alec bewilderedly follows his instructions, looking back and forth between Magnus and, somewhat longingly, the rumpled, golden sheets of their bed. For a man who’s ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, Alexander has never managed to shake off the indulgence of staying in bed whenever he has the opportunity to.

“I’m ready,” says Alec. His hair’s rumpled and he’s got his bomber jacket on, which means he looks devastatingly sexy even with his soft cotton pajama pants and terrible summer sandals. “What exactly should I be expecting?”

“Ah, it’ll be easier to show you.”

-

To Alec’s credit, he doesn’t seem apprehensive to have to step through a portal and into a forest in the middle of the night. Mostly he looks intrigued, his overall bemusement fading as his eyes become more alert, looking around curiously at the tightly packed trees. The moon is bright above them, and streams of light fall through the dense canopy of leaves.

“Where are we?” Alec asks. He starts to walk when Magnus takes his hand and gently tugs him forward, navigating through the thick branches.

“In Brocelind Forest, near the Swiss border. Maybe a mile or so from the Alps.”

“A mile,” repeats Alec. He keeps his voice soft as to not disturb the stillness around them. Magnus doesn’t have to see his face to know that he’s smiling. “When d’you think you’re going to start using kilometers like the rest of the country?”

“Am I really hearing this from a born and bred New Yorker?” Magnus whispers back.

“Excuse me, you know that I was born in–”

“Being a New Yorker isn’t about citizenship, Alexander. It’s about a certain mindset. An attitude, if you will. How you see the world and engage with it. And trust me when I say that you? Are a New Yorker.”

As he says this, Magnus pushes the last of the branches aside to step out of the dense forestry and Alec’s retort catches at the tip of his tongue as he sees what’s waiting on the other side.

There’s not a single gift Magnus has ever given Alec that hadn’t been received with gratitude and enthusiasm, no matter how extravagant or how subtle. And yet Magnus’ heart is fluttering like a hummingbird. This isn’t a typical gift. There’s a reason he wanted to show this to Alec privately, even though they can come back in the morning with the kids.  

The grassy earth has given way to the rocky shores of a lake. The lake, under the shadow of the mountains, vast and dark and majestic. The still, endlessly deep water reflects the perfect full circle moon. The night sky is visible in all its glory now that they’ve cleared the forest, and each and every pinprick of a million, ten million stars is visible above, spilled carelessly and in abundance across the endless black.

Magnus has seen this exact view numerous times during the last year and still the sight never fails to weigh down on him, make his knees want to buckle. It’s immense, it’s beautiful.

It’s only right that it’s Alec’s.

“Wow,” is Alec’s short, succinct response. Magnus releases his breath, relieved. Alec looks dazed as he lets go of Magnus’ hand to step further toward the lake, turning in a slow circle to take it all in. “Magnus… this is incredible.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Alec walks closer to the shoreline and carefully reaches down to pick up one of the smooth stones. He is still Alec, the most beloved person in Magnus’ universe, still in his gray pajama pants and a battered jacket – but kneeling at the edge of the water and glowing pale under the night’s light, Alec could be a spectre, the spirit guardian of the lake.

There are still traces of astonishment, of marvel, on Alec’s face when he starts back toward Magnus.

“Thank you for showing this to me.” Alec’s eyes are wide, bright with wonder and gratitude. The hazel of his irises only a thin ring around his blown pupil. Dilated as they try to soak in the faint traces of light. “I didn’t know there was a place like this in Brocelind Forest. It’s not in any of the maps.”

“Yes,” says Magnus. “It wouldn’t be.”

“How’d you find it?”

Magnus uncharacteristically finds himself playing with his wedding band as Alec often does, the only ring Alec hadn’t carefully eased off his fingers earlier.

“I didn’t,” he says. “I made it.”

Alec’s expression gently slides into one of puzzlement. “What d’you mean?”

“It’s not every day the love of my life clears a decade.”

Alec’s close enough now for Magnus to smooth away the wrinkle between Alec’s brows with his thumb. His other hand comes to rest above Alexander’s chest.

“You know that feeling you had when you stepped out here, like you couldn’t believe something so stunning could exist?” Alec doesn’t look away from Magnus as he slowly nods in response to Magnus’ question. “And there was a pressure on your chest, right here,” says Magnus, tapping his hand above Alec’s heart. “Because seeing the universe unfold above you is too big. Makes you feel too small, like you’ll be crushed under the weight of it. Makes you think, what am I when faced with the reality of this?”

“Yes,” Alec’s response is so quiet Magnus barely catches a wisp of it, despite them standing only inches apart. There’s something changing in the lines of Alec’s face – the slow dawn of understanding, right at the cusp of midnight. “Magnus–”

“That’s how I feel every time I look at you,” murmurs Magnus. “And that’s how every person who stands at the shore of Alexander Lake will feel when they look out over the water, or look up toward the sky.”

Alec looks disbelieving. He still doesn’t look away from Magnus.

“I cleared the grounds with my magic. I dug the basin into the earth, I carved the path which flows the water in from the Rhine.” Magnus takes Alec’s face in his hands. “I know every inch of this land, Alexander. I had to, to make it perfect for you.”

And Alec kisses him.

Alec kisses him with the kind of force and desire that almost knocks Magnus off his feet. A kiss that burns through him, serves as just one more of countless instances that Alec’s left him breathless with the profound, undeniable reality of his unparalleled heart and how he thrusts it into Magnus’ hands repeatedly, without hesitation. A kiss that makes it easy to understand why Magnus would go ahead and do something that would have them change all the textbooks, the maps, the composition of the country, that had the natural history museum send to Magnus a draft write-up for review: Alexander Lake is not part of the natural formation of Idris. It was created over the course of three years by Magnus Lightwood-Bane, the first and current High Warlock of Alicante, as a gift for his husband, Alexander Lightwood-Bane. The lake was finished in the year 2022 and meticulous efforts were taken by Lightwood-Bane, the City of Alicante, and the inhabitants of Brocelind Forest to ensure the preservation of the surrounding ecosystems...

Magnus pulls Alec toward the treeline, the ground turning into grass and soil instead of unyielding rock. Alec’s hands grip Magnus’ shoulders the whole time. Every sound out of Alec is swallowed up eagerly, greedily by Magnus’ mouth. Magnus hits the trunk of a tree but he barely notices how the rough bark digs into his back – all he can perceive is Alexander, the press of his lips, the lines of his body against Magnus’ own.

“I love you,” says Alec against Magnus’ mouth, his chin, his neck. Down Magnus’ chest. “By God, Magnus – I love you.”

There is something raw, untethered in the manner in which the two of them become one, their bodies burning hot even amidst the cool autumn night air. Gripping the cold grass in his hands, the prickle of fallen leaves against his feet, the hardened earth beneath them. These words Alec presses into every inch of Magnus’ skin – the truth of them is woven into the fabric of Magnus’ universe. It’s what makes Alec the sun, leaving behind every other star light years in the dust: his devotion to Magnus burns so bright that there’s no room for any doubts.

He is a permanent part of Magnus, seared into Magnus’ very soul. And now Alexander will be a permanent part of the world as well. It will outlast Alec’s fragile, radiant mortal life. It will outlast even Magnus, which is only fitting. For as long as the Rhine flows and the earth spins, love for Alexander will exist.

-

-

End notes: This was originally going to be the kick-off for a larger split-POV story re: the immortality/mortality debacle. 

The working title for this fic was: Crossroads. 

The working summary was: Alec turns thirty, Magnus turns maudlin, and the two of them have a long awaited conversation about their future. 

[bbk-writes]

The stages of saying ❝I love you❞ (Alec Version)

[bbk-writes]

The stages of saying ❝I love you❞ (Magnus Version)