#i saw these horrid high heels whilst there

[continuousmeowing]

went to goodwill today and bought a mug that says "i dont need google my wife knows everything". Also bought a shirt that says "pairs well with wine". I am unmarried and under 21.

[goddess-of-geeks]

Grace and Power pt. 5

The truth comes out

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long. I guess I’ll be updating this story every week instead of every other day, sincere apologies to those who have waited so long.

Word Count: 2635

Warning: Avatar: the Last Airbender is rated pg-13, so they are allowed on f-bomb. Naturally, I gave it to the reader. So I guess the warning is language.

Pt. 4

~~~

You were laying in bed trying to sleep away the nerves. The thought of going back to the Fire Nation made your stomach feel squirmy.

You were originally in your room to get away from Iroh and his constant teasing about you and Zuko. He saw the both of you on the deck earlier, and him being the greatest Uncle in the world decided that bringing it up at every moment would be for the best.

That left you in your room, alone with your thoughts, laying in bed, having a panic attack.

You felt the ship move and you fell off of your bed and onto your floor. The ship continued to sway, and you had to idea why. You heard a crash near the back of the ship and quickly got to your feet. With the ship in constant motion it was hard to stay in balance, but to the best of your ability you ran to the deck.

You slammed open the door to the deck the same time the Engine Master shouted about the broken engine.

“Do not stop this ship.” You heard Zuko shout.

As the ship began to steady. You ran up to the prince to see what you were dealing with.

“Is that a blockade?” You asked in an alarmed voice. “Are we really running a blockade, that is throwing fireballs at us?” You continued.

No one seemed willing to answer your question. Not even Zuko.

You looked around at the crew as the thought finally sunk in.

“Okay,” You nodded your head, “So we’re doing this.”

~~~

Somehow, someway, in a miraculous gift of the spirits, you succeeded in not being hit by anymore fireballs.

You clutched the railing of the ship, and spoke with gritted teeth. “If I ever have to go through something like that again. I am forcefully throwing all of you off the ship, and sailing in the opposite direction.” You stated.

You saw how the ships of the blockade up ahead moved towards one another, in an attempt to bar our way.

“We’re on a collision course!” Iroh exclaimed.

“We can make it!” Zuko responded.

“We’re all gonna die.” You said meekly.

As your ship quickly approaches the blockade, you noticed how the other ships seemed to slow down until they hit a complete stop. You ship glides easily through the blockade.

You turned towards the closest ship and saw Commander Zhao.

“Who else but Zhao.” You said under your breath.

You moved from your place on the deck and stood next to Iroh.

You looked over at Zhao once again, you gave him a dark look, one which he returned.

“Why is he letting us pass?” You wondered aloud.

~~~

 The crew prepared another much smaller ship that Zuko would use to follow the Avatar.

“I personally think this is a horrid plan, and that you shouldn't go alone.” You said, voicing your opinion.

“Then you should keep your personal thoughts to yourself.” Zuko said.

You looked at the prince for a solid second before you smacked him in the back of the head.

He brought his hand up to where you hit him, and started to rub it to sooth the pain.

“I deserved that didnt I?” He asked.

“Look at you asking the obvious.” You said.

You folded your arms across your chest and gave the prince a look of concern.

“You’re not going alone.” You stated.

Zuko looked at you then at his feet before responding, “Yes, I am.”

You cleared your throat before speaking up, “Let me rephrase that. I won’t allow you to go alone.”

Zuko turned to you and gave you the “Are you serious” look.

“Yes, I am serious. I’m going with you, or you're not going at all.”

Zuko opened his mouth to speak, but you interrupted him.

“That’s final.” You said.

You turned on your heel and walked away from Zuko.

~~~

You stood on the deck with Zuko, and Iroh as the Crew lowered the smaller boat into the waters.

“Uncle,” Zuko said, “Keep heading north. Zhao will follow the smoke trail while I-”

“While We use it as a cover.” You said interrupting the prince.

The prince gave you a hard look before speaking up.

“I don’t want you coming with me.” He said.

“I don’t want you going alone.” You retorted.

“Why won’t you allow me to go alone?” he asked you.

“Because you’re a foolish idiot, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” You answered simply.

“Why won’t you allow me to go with you?” You asked Zuko.

“Because you’re a little girl, and I don’t want you getting hurt.” Zuko responded.

You laughed humorlessly.

“Oh please Zuzu. You and I both know you’re not foolish enough to underestimate my abilities. So what’s the real reason you don’t want me to come with you?”

Zuko didn’t answer. 

“Well since you don’t know, and I don't know. Then I’m going with you whether you like it or not.” You finished.

You boarded the smaller ship, Zuko stepping in after you.

“If you get hurt, I’m leaving you behind.” Zuko said.

“I love you two, Zuzu.” You said with a smile on your face.

~~~

As you and Zuko approached the island you started to wonder aloud.

“What if Zhao isn’t fooled by the smoke trail?” You said, turning to Zuko.

“Trust me Zhao isn’t the smartest man in the world.”

“Oh, I knew that. I kinda worked under him for two weeks.” You responded to the prince. “But he has proven to be smarter than most people are made to believe.” You finished.

You and the prince sat in silence.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t get lucky then.”

~~~

You and Zuko quietly crept up the steps of the temple.

“I hate to say this Zuzu,” You whispered, “But this is by far one of the dumbest things I’ve ever lived to see you do.”

As you reached the top of the stairs you noticed how the Avatar’s companions were attacking the fire sages.

“Hurry up and grab the boy.” You whispered to Zuko.

Zuko snuck to the side of the small boy before he ambushed him from behind.

Zuko held the Avatars arms behind his back. You noticed how the boy seemed to struggle.

“Aang! Now’s your chance!” You heard a girl yell.

Zuko walked into the line of view of the girl, avatar in his grasp.

“The Avatar’s coming with me!” He announced.

You saw how the odds quickly turned against the Avatar and his companions, as the other firesages grabbed the upper hand and tied the two water tribe members to the nearest column.

Your eyes quickly went back to Zuko, but you noticed how the Avatar made several swift moves that knocked Zuko out of balance.The air-bender kicked Zuko down the stairs and turned towards the closing doors.

You caught the prince in your arms when the doors sealed shut.

Zuko quickly pulled himself out of your arms and towards the other Fire Sages.

You soon followed after muttering a quick, “A thank you would have been nice.” under your breath.

You leaned yourself against one of the columns, and watched as the prince gave orders to the fire sages.

“What are you just standing there for? Help me open that door.” He commanded the sages.

4 of the sages and Zuko assume fire bending stances. They shoot 5 simultaneous blasts at the door. This time the locking mechanisms do not respond.

“Why isn’t it working? It’s sealed shut!” Zuko exclaimed.

“It must have been the light. Avatar Roku doesn't want us inside.” One of the sages spoke up.

“Well this has been a lovely expedition.” You said, standing up to your fullest height. “Why don’t we head back to the ship.” You suggested to the prince.

“No. We’re not leaving till the Avatar comes out of that room.” Zuko stated.

You groaned and slid down the column till you hit the floor.

“I should've stayed on the ship.” You mumbled to yourself.

Zuko turned on his heel and began marching towards the traitorous fire sage.

The sage was kneeling on the floor with his hand tied behind his back. The other 4 sages stood behind him.

“Why did you help the Avatar?” Zuko interrogated the Sage.

“That’s a stupid question.” You said before the sage could speak up.

“What?” Zuko asked, turning towards you.

You rolled your eyes, “Honestly Zuzu how do you expect yourself to run this nation if you know a nice amount of nothing about it.” You turned your head to look at the prince, “It’s kinda disappointing really.”

Zuko ignored your statement and turned towards the sage once again.

“Why did you help the Avatar?” Zuko asked once again.

“Because it was once the Sages’ duty.” The sage answered. “It is still our duty.” He finished.

You heard the sound of footsteps and clapping, you immediately jumped to your feet.

Zhao and his soldiers approached Zuko from behind.

“What a moving and heartfelt performance” Zhao said, “I’m certain the Fire Lord will understand why you betrayed him.”

The 4 sages bowed at the newcomer whilst you and Zuko stood tall.

“And Prince Zuko,” Zhao said, turning his attention towards the prince, “it was a noble effort. But your little smoke screen didn't work. Three traitors,” Zhao turned to look towards you, “in one day, the Fire Lord will be pleased.”

You saw one of Zhaos’ soldiers move towards Zuko and grab him. You saw another move towards you. But before he could get his hands on you, you pulled your katana from your sheath on your hip, and pointed the tip at the soldier's throat.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you Zhao, and co.” You said, “But, I’ll slit all of your throats before I face the Fire Lord again.” You stated.

“What do you mean ‘again’ ” Zuko asked, while he was still being restrained.

Your stance faltered and your eyes widened.

“I mean… uh…mmmhh…” You sputtered.

While in your distracted state the Fire Soldier kicked your katana out of your hand.

You looked down and watched as the metal blade clattered on the floor.

“Fuc-”

~~~

You and Zuko found yourselves in chains on a column next to the Avatars companions.

“When those doors open, unleash all of your firebending power.” Zhao commanded his troops.

“Well… seems like we’re gonna be here for a while.” You said.

“Even under my command you never knew when to shut up.” Zhao said as he approached you and Zuko.

“You know Zhao, even as a high ranking commander in the fire nation army, you really are just a deadbeat, low life, good for nothing, waste of space.” You spoke up.

You saw the fire flare in Zhao’s eyes.

He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and pulled you towards him. He brought his other hand towards your face. A flame dancing in his palm.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t give you and your little boyfriend matching scars.” Zhao threatened through gritted teeth.

“Whatever you do to her Zhao, I will release on you tenfold.” Zuko said, you could see the anger in his eyes.

However you didn’t flinch at Zhao's fire. You trained with Azula during Zuko’s years of banishment, a meek flame such as Zhaos could never scare you.

“You know I don’t really understand how you got to a ranking as high as commander. A sixteen year old bested you in an agni kai. You might as well turn in your uniform now. Nothing can spare you from that embarrassment.” Zhao gripped your collar tighter and the flame in his hands grew hotter. You felt beads of sweat form on the side of your face but you didn't let that distract you.

“Who do you think you are to insult me.” Zhao said.

“The future Fire Lady.” You said without hesitation.

You saw the look of surprise coat Zuko’s face out of the corner of your eye.

“Or the youngest general in the Fire Nation army.” You continued. “Whichever comes first really.”

A nasty smirk appeared on Zhaos face, and he began a humorless chuckle. He let go of your collar and extinguished the flame in his hand before standing upright.

“How could you, the banished girl, ever become a general in the Fire Nation army, let alone the Fire Lady.”

You looked away from Zhao as he turned on his heel to march back to his men.

“That’s why you left the Fire Nation.” Zuko said, turning his head to look at you. “You were banished.” He stated.

“Wow! Thank you, Prince Zuko, for pointing out the obvious!” You said with mock excitement.

You brought your attention back to Zhao and his men. You wanted to do the best you could to distract Zhao from harming that little air bender, even if he did kick Zuko down some stairs.

“I knew you were war criminal Zhao,” You spoke up once again, “buy only a true monster could ever hope to release the power of 9 fire benders against a harmless 12 year old boy.”

Zhao scoffed at your statement, “I wouldn’t exactly use the term ‘Harmless’ to describe the Avatar.”

You narrowed your eyes at Zhao, “Avatar or not. No one that young deserves to go through so much pain for something out of their control.”

Your eyes softened and you turned your head to look at the scarred boy next to you.

“No one deserves to go through that pain.”

You finished your sentence as the doors to the Avatars sanctuary began to open.

“Zhao think about what you’re doing!” You shouted at the same time one of the Avatars companions, the water tribe girl, yelled out, “No! Aang!”

Zhao ignored both of your pleas and ordered his men to fire and the Avatar.

Zhao and his men shot fire blasts into the sanctuary.

But somehow the fire blast didn't enter the sanctuary. The fire was being manipulated to be held at the door and turned into a giant ball of fire. The fire ball slowly begins to open. Standing there, eyes aglow, at the hearth of the fire was none other than Avatar Roku himself.

“Avatar Roku!” One of the fire sages calles out.

Avatar Roku pulls the fire in towards himself before extending out into the room. You flinched away expecting the fire to burn you, but instead it melted the metal chains that kept you and Zuko bound to the column. You turned and saw as the chains were also melted off the young air benders’ companions.You stood there in shock, questions of why the Avatar set you free were swarming a mile a minute in your brain.

You were pulled from your trance, and your spot on the floor, when Zuko grabbed your wrist and ran.

~~~

You and Zuko were once again on the safety of the ship. You watched as the island submerged itself into the hot magma. Whilst Zuko watched the Avatar get away on his flying bison.

“It doesn’t make sense.” You said finally voicing your thoughts.

“What doesn't make sense?” Zuko questioned you, lowering the spying glass from his eye.

“Why did Avatar Roku set us free, if he knew we were a threat to the new Avatars safety?” You wondered, tilting your head towards the young prince.

Zuko was quiet for a moment, thinking about your question, before he spoke up. “I don’t know why he did it.” He said, “But don’t think I’ve forgotten this new information about you.”

“Pardon?” You said.

“You were banished from the Fire Nation.” Zuko said, “And you’re going to tell me why.”

You turned your head away from Zuko. You prayed to the spirits that Iroh would be picking you and Zuko up soon.

~~~

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[starcrossedyanderes]

I read in your description of Xavier that his parents are the only people with the authority to punish him, and it made me think. What if his parents viewed the darling as a distraction or as more trouble than they're worth? Colvakia has constantly been on the brink of war since the darling came around, so Xavier's parents cook up a scheme to fake the darling's death before sneaking them out of the country. Xavier catches on. Could this happen? If so, you can treat it as a request. Thank you!

Okay, so canonically his parents are perfectly fine with Xavier’s ‘girlfriend’. You see they don’t really care if their son doesn’t marry a royal. You see they kind bought up and seized almost all countries with royalty. So that would mean incest and the Devorsky family have learned about the Hapsburgs and don’t want a repeat of that. So they don’t have the slightest problem with Xavier’s choice. They also don’t care about an oncoming war because they basically gobbled up all the global superpowers! Really the only one left is America. They were planning on buying America anyway but knowing their whole patrioticness they probably wouldn’t bite. A war would’ve happened anyway.

Not to mention the Queen of Colvalkia adores her son and loves getting him whatever he wants. His father truly sees him as a son as well and both are quite proud of him and they like his choice. So canonically this wouldn’t happen.

BUT lets say that it could and what would happen.

The blonde female let out a scoff at the sight of her son nuzzling into that girls (h/c) locks. The sound of harsh taps sounded through out the halls as her heels harshly met with the marble floors.

How dare her son bring a peasant girl back to the palace. And how DARE he have the intent to treat her as a lover and talk of marriage.

Out of all the ladies that his own mother suggested he turned down each one and went with this disgusting piece of filth!

The queen gave him all fine ladies from wealth each one having wonderful etiquette and all raised well.

BUT NO..

Her gloved hands harshly pushed against the mahogany doors; beating the guards on duty to it. The middle aged king head rose sharply from the paper he was filling out alerted by his fuming wife before him.

“We need to talk.”

“About?”

The blonde woman walked in front of her husband’s desk and placed her gloves hands on the polished wood.

“That brat that Xavier insists on marrying.”

The king let out an “ah”.

“We simply can’t allow this. I don’t care about an oncoming war but we raised our son much better than.. THIS!”

She made her point by spreading her arms wide before placing them back down on the table.

“We simply can not allow our son, the future king of Colvakia, marry such a horrid commoner.”

The king scratched his brown hair that his under his brown hair.

“And how do you suggest we stop him.”

“Well since he obviously won’t listen to reason we’ll just have to take care of things ourselves.”

Under icy blue eyes a blinding smile pulled against the woman’s rouged cheeks like a wolf about to tear its teeth into a rabbit.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Emerald green eyes blinked open; helping to light up the dark room. Her white fangs glinted in the moon’s light as her mouth opened into a wide yawn. Her back stretched upwards before her body final came back to the ground as she was now sitting down.

In front of her she saw her master’s mother impatiently tapping her foot whilst waiting in the expansive throne room.

The large cat got up on all fours and started to rub her head against the woman’s dress which only gained her a disgusted screech as her head was kicked with a heeled foot.

But Ebony’s strict training taught her not to lash out against people she knew even though she desperately wanted to.

The queen finally got somewhat of a smile at the sight of some of her personal guards holding the girl that caused a snarl to come on her face but that was quickly changed to a neutral expression once she thought about the wrinkles she may receive.

Meanwhile your eyes were squinted having finally stopped fighting the guards that were holding you since from their lack of response you thought that they were just Xavier’s personal guards. Though why they were taking you into the throne room where the queen and Ebony stood you had no idea.

“Ah, the peasant finally shows up.”

And suddenly your rude awakening just got ruder.

“Huh?”

“Bring her over. Thomas, if you will.”

Upon getting close enough to the monarch your body was abruptly dropped on the ground next to Ebony.

The queen’s eyes bore down into your own as she practically hissed out her words like the snake that she is.

“Listen here, peasant. I don’t know what you did to steal my son’s love but I’m not having it. I don’t care about a war, but I want you out. Ebony, snack time.”

The panther’s eyes lit up and head frantically circled around before her emerald green eyes locked onto you. But then they turned back to the queen’s and tilted her head in confusion and let out a faint chirp.

“What are you doing you mangy cat! Go on! Snack time!”

“Mother, you know Ebony only listens to me.”

Out of the shadows steps the prince that has captured you here.

His blonde hair hung in his eyes as the moonlight shone against it. His emerald green eyes glinted beautifully in all the worst ways possible. His long locks were uncharacteristically unruly with some slight eye bags being seen as well. He walked further out of the shadows with one foot in front of the other in a way that screamed power. With each step he took his purple robe moved with him slightly showing the white silken shirt he wore underneath. If it wasn’t for the muted click of his shoes on the carpeted floor one would’ve thought that he was gliding across the room.

“Mother, I’m highly disappointed in you. And to think you were attempting to kill moy lyubimyy with my own precious koshka.”Upon hearing her master’s voice Ebony quickly walked over to his side and started to rub her head against his velvet robe. Blush painted nails thanked her affection by gently scratching her head as they walked together. 

“Xavier! You aren’t supposed to be here! I thought you were asleep!?”

The blonde female started to take large steps upon seeing her son walking with his panther stalking right behind him.

“I was asleep. But Indigo’s cries most certainly woke me up. It seemed he was awoken by the sudden coldness after Ebony’s warmth was no longer there.”

The queen’s blue eyes quickly flashed back to the image of that accursed peacock nuzzled up to Ebony’s side.

“Mother, I would say that I am dearly sorry but a prince is never supposed to lie. I really wished for it not to end like this but frankly I find continuing the Devorsky dynasty much more important than preserving one woman’s power.”

The queen was now shaking in her heels as Xavier now walked slightly faster to your frame and gripped your wrist with his own hand. His head turned away with a sigh so he did not have to face you or his own mother before letting these words fly from his lips.

“Ana Ivana Devorsky of Colvakia you are under arrest for attempted regicide. Your punishment shall be imprisonment and stripping of your title and the possibility of execution. This implies to all accomplices of the crime as well. Guards, get them out of my sight.”

Out of the shadows other guards walked forth from the shadows and soon got Ana and her guards in their crushing grip. The last thing you saw of the woman was her being dragged off with her beehive askew as her ice cold blue eyes filled with tears.

Xavier gripped tighter onto your hand as he started to walk in the direction of his quarters leaving your bare feet to stumble after him. As you exited the expansive room you could hear the echoes of words such as “Unhand me at once! I am your queen!” to “You can’t do this to me! I am your mother!” 

It seemed after walking down 2 hallways the prince slowed down allowing you and Ebony to fully catch up to his form. And then proceed to run into him as he abruptly stopped. As soon as your bodies made contact his arms quickly wrapped around your waist and shove his head into the crook of your neck. 

His hands gripped you tightly as your face was shoved into his chest and had to fight back the urge to sneeze as one stray lock of golden hair tickled your nose. The guards lining the walls dared not to speak a word at the sight before them just leaving the two of you in complete silence. 

Besides the wind only one thing slightly broke the silence as something was whispered to you that you were certain no one would hear.

“I’m sorry.”

You were held like that for what you assumed to be a minute before you were released and were continued to be walked to the prince’s quarters.

After what felt like an hour of complete silence the three of you arrived at the prince’s suite that slowly opened up by the guards standing at attention. Upon seeing the slightest peek of the moon reflecting against his marble flooring the prince practically shoved you into his room before he quickly rushed inside as well.

His sheets were distraught as Indigo paced around the expansive bed trying his best to get comfortable in the disarray before letting out a happy sqwak upon seeing his master and dear friend/heater return. But the noises exiting the bird was quickly silenced as Xavier loudly slammed his mahogany doors shut and slumped against the dark wood.

His green eyes were closed as his head fully leaned back before he stood from his position and once again grabbed your hand and drug you in the direction of his bed.

“Uhh.. with all due respect your majesty I don’t think it would be appropiate for us to share a bed-”

“Shut it.”

Your feet stopped and mouth practically dropped open.

“Y-your highness-”

His teary green eyes looked into your own before he repeated himself and shoved your body down on the bed before he quickly untied his robe to reveal his nightclothes before he quickly climbed in with you.

His arms once again wrapped around your own as he shoved his head into your hair.

“I said shut it. I thought you or Ebony was dead after facing my mother’s rage. I just saved your life and practically killed my own mother. So for once please just forget formalities and just let me sleep at peace knowing that you’re in my arms.”

Your mouth quickly closed itself upon hearing such heartfelt words come from the prince in a tone that even you never heard before. As a matter of fact you believed you even heard a voice crack exit his throat! What marvelous blackmail for later!

So for once your body started to slightly relax as the prince held you in his arms as you felt Ebony laid down at the end of the large bed with Indigo soon cuddling up to her side.

[upstartpoodle]

Month of AUs Day 3 - Mermaid

So at my current rate of posting these, this is probably going to end up as the Year of AUs rather than the Month of AUs, but I’m persevering with them nonetheless I mean it's an improvement on my usual writing schedule which is basically just post the odd fic once in a blue moon months after I started writing it. After this one I should hopefully start posting them a bit more regularly since I've got a fair few of them at least partially written already, so Day 4 should be out pretty soon after this one.

- 

The smell of salt and seaweed were the first things George Warleggan noticed as he jolted awake, coughing up seawater onto the wet sand below him. His lungs burnt and his vision swam as he gasped for air--precious, precious air he had thought he would never breathe again. What had--? He struggled to recall what had happened, why he was-- Yes, yes, he remembered now. The Queen Charlotte and his decision to accompany his cousin, Matthew, on its maiden voyage, the storm, and the sickening crunch as the ship smashed onto the rocks off from the shore. He remembered clinging to wet stone, palms bleeding as the jagged roughness of rock and barnacles dug into his skin, the pain nothing compared to the terror of the currents’ strong grip trying to pull him under. He’d cursed himself for a fool that he’d never learnt to swim, screaming his cousin’s name as the frothing white waves engulfed him before his very eyes, helpless to save him. And then...then, the sharp pain in his temple as the force of the water pushed him into the rocky outcrop that had both saved him and damned him, the waves swallowing up as sure as they had Matthew as he sank down, down into darkness...

He had been so sure that he would die there, out amidst the wreck of the ship and the roiling, angry sea, and yet here he was, alive. He must be alive, he knew, for surely, if he were dead, he would not have been so assaulted by sensation as he was now. He was beginning to feel other things, besides the ache in his chest and head. The squelch and ooze of the sand beneath him as he shifted with a faint groan. His soaking hair and clothes, his curls plastered to his forehead, wet fabric pressed against chilled skin. The horrid sensation of his sodden neckcloth tight against his throat, like a noose. There was a strange weight on his legs as well, he suddenly noticed, but what was causing it, he could not identify.

His vision had begun to sharpen, and he found himself staring up at a dark, star-filled sky, a gibbous moon shining down upon him from above. All signs of the storm were gone, as if it had never been, save for the loud crashing of the waves nearby--the wind, he noted, was still strong, but he seemed oddly sheltered from it. This, however, was not the thing which had truly caught his attention. No, what he had been truly struck by was the face of the woman hovering above him, anxious green-brown eyes boring deeply into his own.

She was a very beautiful woman, he noticed, her soft, pale features, creased ever so slightly with worry, illuminated by the moonlight above them. Her hair was wet, trailing, save for one loose strand which had strayed across the elegant arch of her cheekbone, across her bare shoulder in dark curls. A lot of her skin was bare--not so much so as to be indecent as such but enough to scandalise a matronly aunt had one such person been in her presence. George, however, barely had the chance to be scandalised in this hypothetical aunt’s stead, before he took in the sight of her hand, resting in the sand beside his head. Her webbed hand.

“Wh--?” he croaked in disbelief, barely able to take in what he was seeing. His gaze travelled downwards, and with wide eyes, he saw that the weight he had felt about his legs was a glimmering, shimmering fishtail, wrapped carefully, almost protectively about him. The scales were green, he thought--it was difficult to tell in the dark, even with the light of the moon to aid him. They stopped at her waist, and from there blended seamlessly into pale skin.

No. No. It wasn’t possible.

With a high-pitched squawk that would no doubt have had the gulls roosting nearby counting him as one of their number, he scrambled backwards up the shore, disentangling himself with difficulty. His fingers and heels left divots in the sand as he pushed himself away, and the salt and grit stung at the cuts on his hands, but he barely noticed them over the dizziness and nausea that swept over him at the sudden movement. He groaned through tightly closed lips as vision swam once again. Once it cleared, he saw that the woman--the mermaid, the mermaid--was regarding him with her head to one side, the frown between her brows deepened.

“You should stay still,” she said. “You are hurt.”

Her voice was soft, musical, with a strange calming quality to it that somehow managed to lull the panic that was fast building in his chest, just a little. He stared at her, dazed, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. He had heard stories, of course, from his old nursemaid, and the occasional seafaring man, but he had stopped believing in them around the age that he had stopped being  told such tales at bedtime to coax him into sleep. So how--? How could--?

“Wh--?” His throat was too sore and dry to articulate the half-hysterical thoughts that were whirling through his head. Instead, what came out was a bundle of hoarse, stuttered, barely asked questions, each posed without leaving her time to answer. “Wha--who are...? Where...? Where is...where have you...?”

He tilted his head back, trying to determine where exactly he was, but the sudden impression of towering cliffs above him overwhelmed him with a sense of dizzying vertigo. The nausea and the pain in his head returned in full force, and he collapsed back onto the sand, unable to support himself. He heard a faint shuffling noise, and once again she was above him, staring down at him with concern in her eyes.

“You are hurt,” she said again. “Will you not let me help you?”

Her webbed hand reached out tentatively towards his temple, but he jerked back on instinct, eyes wide. She stilled at the sight, hovering, uncertain, over him.

“Who are you?” he rasped out, desperate for answers, desperate to understand the bizarre situation he had suddenly found himself in. She gazed into his eyes for one long moment, before she bowed her head in acquiescence, opening her mouth to speak.

“My name is Elizabeth,” she replied. “Your ship was wrecked in my waters.”

“You--”

“I found many dead, but you were still living--just, and so I brought you here, to the shore, to recover,” she said. “This is my cove. No harm shall come to you here.”

There was a look of sorrow and sympathy in her eyes, so kind that, so accustomed to coldness and cruelty as he was, it fairly took his breath away. She had saved him. Pulled him from the clutches of the sea as it sought to claim him as it had the others. But oh, the others. How many had died out there? Had Matthew? He must have done, surely--he had seen him go under the water, unable to fight its grasp any longer. Would he be the only survivor, whilst the passengers and crewmen washed up on the shore as flotsam and jetsam? Would anyone even know he lived, come morning when the search began? Or would they simply presume he had been lost to the sea?

“Hush, it is alright.” He had made a wounded little noise in his throat at the thoughts racing through his head, and the mermaid--Elizabeth--leaned forward, speaking to him softly in an attempt to soothe him. The tip of her finger brushed over his injured temple, and this time, he did not flinch away. He felt a slight tingling sensation at the touch, and all of a sudden, the pain and the dizziness in his skull faded as if it had never been. He gasped, eyes wide.

“How--?”

“You are hurt.” She smiled down at him. “But you’ve no need to fear. I shall take care of you.”

[empressfiend]

Embracing Pain (Malec Fic)

#firstmeet #alecinlove #highwarlockofbrooklyn #developingrelationship

Read on Ao3. (FiendMaz)

Beta: @beyondthehunt

Magnus took one last surveying glance at the dead warlock then stood up with a slow grace. His face was set with low simmering anger and he didn’t bother to put on a façade as he walked past the Shadowhunter that had insisted on accompanying him. The man was tall, handsome, and exactly his kind of man – but he had no plans to be involved with the Nephilim in whatever way and, in any case, they always proved to be nothing but nuisances.

“Magnus –,”

Magnus turned to the Shadowhunter whilst he walked and gave a passing glare. “Don’t speak to me so familiarly, Nephilim.”

- Alec tries to worm his way into Magnus' life but the High Warlock of Brooklyn has far greater things to worry about than a Nephilim clamoring for his attention. This Nephilim wasn't one for giving up however.

The alleyway smelled of whiskey and day old barf, a riveting mix of scents that reminded Magnus of questionably good nights and decidedly horrible ones. He was crouched down before a dead warlock’s body, his lip set to a grim line as he catalogued every injury as well as any clues that might have been left by the culprit.

When he had become a private investigator all those years ago, he had done it for fun and certainly didn’t expect that his experiences with the odd cases would help him much as a High Warlock but they have. As the acting leader of the New York Downworlders, the job of investigating and getting rid of problems that posed as threats to the community fell under his duties and responsibilities.

It has been long since the Clave had any sort of power over the Downworlders though they definitely never failed to try to assert some every now and then.

Magnus took one last surveying glance at the dead warlock then stood up with a slow grace. His face was set with low simmering anger and he didn’t bother to put on a façade as he walked past the Shadowhunter that had insisted on accompanying him. The man was tall, handsome, and exactly his kind of man – but he had no plans to be involved with the Nephilim in whatever way and, in any case, they always proved to be nothing but nuisances.

“Magnus –,”

Magnus turned to the Shadowhunter whilst he walked and gave a passing glare. “Don’t speak to me so familiarly, Nephilim.”

“It’s – Alec.” The Shadowhunter nearly sighed out in defeat though his eyes remained ablaze with passion and determination as well as something darker that lurked far deeper than could be comprehended. “High Warlock –,”

Magnus stopped to bristle but didn’t say anything; whatever this… Alec would choose to call him would rub him wrongly.

“I want to help you find who did this.”

“It isn’t just this.” Magnus replied in a forced tone. He flicked his eyes to the warlock that laid on the ground with blank eyes wide open then back to the Nephilim. “How can you help when you don’t even know that?”

“I’ll find out what I need to.” Alec’s expression was schooled into a neutral one.

“Whatever you’re playing at, Shadowhunter,” Magnus did a cold once-over of the blandly-outfitted Nephilim. “I don’t have the patience for it. And I don’t need you.” He ended his sentence with a snap of his fingers and the dead warlock disappeared in a wisp of blue smoke while a portal swirled right where he stood. He stepped through for his private office in Pandemonium with a last glimpse of Alec attempting to reach out to him.

The wide expanse of glass behind his desk muted the colours flashing brightly in the main area of his club but, he looked down, the view of the patrons dancing the night away in a deluge of sweat and alcohol was crystal clear. At a glance, they all looked carefree and happy, enjoying their lives inside the safe haven that was his club but he knew better. He could see that their movements were strained, could pinpoint who were more affected than the rest, and knew exactly those that were mourning by drowning in alcohol.

His sigh was silent as he summoned himself a stiff drink; the ice clinked inside the old fashioned glass when he tilted it to let the amber liquid slide down his throat. Once done, the glass bounced on the carpeted floor once, twice, before it disappeared in a whirl of smoke.

He had been privy to a grand number of four unexpected deaths in the past week and he had three more days left. A vampire, a werewolf, a faerie, and now, a warlock. With three more days left, there wasn’t much choice but to repeat the cycle but was it a cycle? What if – he flexed his jaw when he saw Alec enter his club – a Shadowhunter was next? They would meddle, of that he was sure though he’d be damned if he’d let them.

He followed Alec’s movement in the parting crowd and rolled his eyes when the Shadowhunter looked up at the dark one-way glass wall of his office that he was currently looking out of. It would be a pain to deal with all the bureaucracy and bullshit superiority complexes but at the very least, he’d find out why Alec was sent to pester him.

And if not, well, he didn’t so much care as feel irritated and vexed about this rather insistent companion. He shot his hand out when he felt the his wards wobble at the touch of Nephilim blood at the foot of the stairs that led up to his office and curled his fingers into a fist for his stairs to turn into a slide.

The satisfying grunt of pain that filtered through his otherwise soundproof door made him smirk.

  High Warlock Bane,

Your presence is required –

Magnus scoffed and tossed the fire message away with a flick of his wrist; the nerve of the Nephilim. He took a sip of his perfectly concocted Long Island Iced Tea and settled back on his royal purple chaise when another fire message flashed before his face. His tongue clucked irritably but he snatched it out of the air to read the first few lines, fully prepared to toss it too but his compassion was piqued by the politeness.

High Warlock Bane,

Please come to the New York Institute. My brother is dying and you’re my only hope. I am fully prepared to pay whatever you wish for, just please save my brother.

Isabelle Lightwood

A twinge of familiarity shot through him as he re-read the last name of the girl that had sent him the message and it took him a few seconds longer than he would have liked when he finally remembered that she had the same surname as the Shadowhunter that had followed him around all of last night. He grit his teeth and looked up at the ceiling dramatically as he snapped his fingers for a portal.

The Institute was as cold-looking and drab as the Nephilim themselves, he thought as he rolled his shoulders. The doors slammed open with his magic and, upon entering, was greeted by quite a beautiful Shadowhunter whose uncanny resemblance to Alec let him know it was Isabelle. He raised an eyebrow and she gestured for him to follow without further ado.

His steps were purposeful as he followed her hurried steps to what he guessed would be the clinic but he was surprised when she opened a door and he was shuffled into a private room – a bedroom, to be exact. He paused at the entryway for a split second before he continued on after her and sat down on the limited space available on the bed that Alec laid on.

The Shadowhunter was in a horrid state, clammy and paler than usual with the distinct look of a dying man. It should have been a terrible look but he found that it barely did anything to detract from the inarguably good looks that the Nephilim was blessed with. He circled his hands in the air above Alec’s chest and his purple magic awoke to seep into the Shadowhunter.

His brows furrowed when he noted a strange strain of poison mingled with demon blood without any obvious entry points such as an injury, a mere cut, or even a tiny insert of an injection. He inhaled deeply when he noticed the slight burn inside the Nephilim’s throat and froze momentarily as he considered the possibility of Alec drinking something vile in his club but he recovered quickly to focus on his task to heal.

All throughout, he was aware of how a worried Isabelle hovered behind him, her heels twisting punishingly on the carpet. Her gasp was loud when a knock disturbed their quiet and she seemed mildly resigned by the slump of her shoulders as she greeted the Indonesian Shadowhunter outside. She mumbled something angrily, muttered a louder, “I’ll be back in 5 minutes, Raj,” then shoved past the man and swept away in a flurry of whipping hair that hit the Indonesian Shadowhunter in the face.

“I’d stop looking and continue working if I were you.” Raj sneered.

Magnus smirked and immediately ceased his healing magic; he was done anyway. He stood up facing Alec and lifted his hand sideways to swiftly capture the snivelling Nephilim with his magic. His lips downturned into a dark frown as he twisted his fingers to curl his magic into Raj and he nearly smirked when he saw the Shadowhunter’s face freeze along with the rest of the body.

“I hate being rushed.” He shifted to level his heavy glare at the stiff man then pushed his whole palm outwards. Raj crashed against the boring painting on the equally boring wall with a loud crash then collapsed onto the floor in a useless heap; a perfect image that described the Nephilim race as a whole in his esteemed opinion. He wiped the non-existent dust off his hands and fixed his vest before he prepared to summon yet another portal but at that moment, Alec grunted.

Magnus lowered his hand slowly as he watched the Nephilim wake up as if from a sleep, slightly in disbelief at the fast recovery. He met the groggy Shadowhunter’s eyes head-on and raised a brow when the other bolted up into a sitting with a groan of pain.

“Um…” Alec shuffled to a seating position with another groan. “Yeah…” The Shadowhunter eyed the room like it was unfamiliar and then turned back to him with a more interested glint. “Are you accepting my help?”

Magnus snorted. “You were poisoned, Shadowhunter. You drank poison and nearly died from it. I’m here because I saved you not because I need help.” He brushed off invisible lint from his sleeves. “In fact, this whole situation just serves as a reminder that I of all people don’t need your help. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He raised his hand for another portal when –

“Wait.” Alec raised a hand but it was the soft plea in the Nephilim’s voice that made him stop.

May Hell help him for sticking around longer than necessary in the Institute.

  The ‘meeting’ or whatever it was had been benign up until now; filled with whatever useless ramblings the young Shadowhunter could think of in regards to the multiple deaths. Magnus found himself listening with a slight quirk of his lips as the eager Nephilim stumbled over simple sentences, eyes bright. But as they continued on this way and finally a long-abused stereotype branded on Downworlders was spoken out loud, he remembered exactly why he hated the damn Shadowhunters.

“They’re prone to becoming slaves to their impulses so perhaps –,” Alec stopped abruptly as the Shadowhunter apparently possessed enough sense to realise when to shut up.

Magnus stared at the guilty-looking Nephilim with a look full of betrayal and cursed himself for even thinking for a second that he could have a mutually beneficial relationship with this Shadowhunter. “You and your Nephilim superiority,” He spat out with a forced-amused edge to his tone. “Think you know everything. Us? A slave to our impulses? Don’t make me laugh.” His tone sharpened and he slipped in some of his magic to ensure that Alec would feel every razor-sharp edge to his words. “Shadowhunters have always been slaves to their impulses not anyone else. Case in point.”

He stalked out of the room and away from the fumbling Nephilim without a second with anger visibly burning inside of him.

  When Magnus stood over the dead body of Raj in yet another alleyway, this one smelling of cigarettes and spoiled food, all he felt was simmering anger. And when Alec came by his loft two hours later with a terribly sorry expression along with an order to get his DNA to test against the hairs found on the dead Shadowhunter that had insulted him, he made sure the young Nephilim knew exactly how pissed he was.

The flinch he got from Alec was barely satisfying.

“High –,”

“Get out.” Magnus ordered, confused at himself for lowering his eyes as if he was cowering but he couldn’t lift them up. A vice wrapped around his heart and squeezed, the thorns made up of his foolish naiveté. “Out.” He hissed when the Shadowhunter tried to speak once more.

His eyes stayed lowered as he avoided the Nephilim’s pleading gaze and let his fingers dance to magically open his door as another emphasis to the seriousness of his words. He inhaled deeply when the Shadowhunter tried to catch his eyes one last time and heaved a relieved sigh when he heard the sound of his door closing.

  Seeing Camille was a terrible curse Magnus only wished on his worst enemies and yet there she stood at the entrance to his loft mere hours after the Nephilim had left his home with his DNA. He rolled his eyes when she stalked in without a care for permission and mockingly swept his arm in welcome to allow in her odd entourage; a vampire who was clearly a fledgling and a female Shadowhunter.

“Odd company,” He commented idly as he rubbed his fingers together. “Even for you, Camille.”

“I just love to mix things up.” Camille purred over her shoulder with tempting hooded eyes.

Magnus smiled plainly at her, mildly amused by how she seemed to still believe that he’d agree to do anything that involved her when a century had already passed with her meaningless tries and his consistent refusals. “Why are you here?” He asked loftily.

“Darling,” Camille started in her venomously-sweet voice. “I’ve missed you.”

Magnus stared at her and remained unmoved as the fledgling and young Shadowhunter walked past them to position behind Camille. Far from looking like her entourage, he mused, they appeared to be there as her guards. He flicked his eyes up to the Nephilim’s briefly before returning them back to Camille’s. “What has she done?”

“I found her,” The female Shadowhunter spoke up. “Disposing of vampire bodies.”

“Then why is she here and not at the Institute?” Magnus questioned. He narrowed his eyes when Camille flashed him a simpering smile.

The Nephilim shrugged. “Alec said that he, and I quote, “won’t make the same mistake twice,” and that you’re the leader of the New York Downworld so she’ll have to go through you first.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes but figured he’d deal with the former information later on. He turned to Camille and the subtle smile on her blood red lips; she was still coldly beautiful and he was still pissed off with her. “Why?” He demanded.

“I was just cleaning house, darling.” Camille explained airily.

“That’s a lie!”

“Quiet,” Magnus shot the fledgling a look and then grandly gestured for Camille to sit on one of his couches whilst he snapped his fingers inconspicuously. She tapped his arm coquettishly and fluttered her eyelashes before moving over to the living room. One step in and his magic reacted immediately to her energy in the form of a large jail cell that materialised out of thin her to trap her inside.

Camille showed her fangs instantly. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve had your turn.” Magnus raised his finger to shush her with a silencing spell. “So,” He turned sideways to face the fledgling and raised an eyebrow. “You were saying?”

“She killed them because Raphael found out there were some mundane-feeding dens in Brooklyn. He was going to raid them with some of the other vampires tonight but then Camille found out and killed them before they could let anyone know she was the one who created those dens.”

“You never learn, do you?” Magnus walked away from her as he shook his head. This was hardly the first time she had done such a thing and the last time he had known, he’d told her to destroy the dens or he’d turn her in. It had been an empty threat then but now… Well, it was a relief to do what he was about to. “Goodbye, Camille.” He waved his arms about to create a portal and took one last look at her.

“Don’t you dare –,” Camille’s eyes turned bright with betrayal and it hit him in the heart to suddenly see such a strong emotion in her usually cold eyes but it was too late: his decision was made. “I’m the only permanent person in your life.”

Magnus’ cat eyes flashed at her words and sharp pain stabbed at his heart as he remembered the first woman to have ever left him. He turned away grimly and sent her off with a thrust of his magic. She was gone after a long blink and relief rippled through his body. He was simultaneously happy and unhappy to have rid of her but also and, more than that, he felt like he’d been freed from a chain he had been thus unaware of.

She was finally, permanently, gone.

Just like everyone else.

“Where…”

The fledgling’s voice distracted him from his thought and Magnus snapped his fingers for a drink. “Your name?” He asked as he handed over a Blood Mary to the vampire.

“Simon. Lewis. Simon Lewis.” Simon gratefully accepted the drink. “Camille’s my sire. Well, she was my sire, I guess.”

“That’s not how it works. You should tell Raphael to teach you about sires.” Magnus informed the fledgling. “Now then, Nephilim –,”

“It’s Clary –,”

Magnus waved his hand in irritation at the interruption. “Tell the Head of the New York Institute that while I appreciate this gesture, I’m not going to play this game with him.”

“Game?” The Nephilim blinked in surprise and she shared a look with Simon. “Alec would never play games. He’s too serious for that besides he –,”

“NO! He’ll murder us if you tell,” Simon interrupted, eyes were wide and positively alarmed.

Magnus raised his brow, curious.

“That’s true.” The Shadowhunter deflated. “I almost… Anyway, Alec doesn’t play games and he wouldn’t ever do it where you’re concerned.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Magnus queried.

“Exactly what I said.” The Nephilim said evenly. “Anyway, thank you for your hospitality,” She said sarcastically with a brief pointed look at the Bloody Mary Simon held and then at her own empty hands. “For dealing with bitchmille and… welcoming us to your home, I guess. See ya!”

Magnus nodded as Simon bowed whilst depositing the glass of half-full Bloody Mary onto the coffee table and then watched as the fledgling left with the strange Shadowhunter girl.

  The wind was warm and comforting at this time of the night but his heart thudded in fear inside his chest. His fingers trembled as he took a hold of the blanket that covered the familiar form of his mother and he tossed it away with a jerk. Blood greeted him, wet and fresh, and it smelt of iron so strong that he choked on it –

Magnus shuddered violently from the memory. He took a shaky sip of his morning coffee then stared into the distance of his wide loft, eyes vacant but mind whirring senselessly, restlessly. His figure must have seemed like a statue as he stayed frozen, trapped in the repeated cycle of his earliest tragedy. He berated himself for being so affected by Camille’s parting words but, all the same, he was surely trapped in the torture of reliving the horror of the crystal clear memory.

His day had started badly with the news of the Clave suspecting him for the insolent Shadowhunter’s murder and then took a turn for worse when Camille had arrived and he was forced to send her off to Idris. Finally, it turned to this: with him sat on his couch, a drink in hand as he relieved a punishing memory.

It must not be his week.

A tear slid down his cheek, unbidden, and he wiped it away angrily. His attention slid over to his vinyl record player and he turned it on with a snap of his fingers to allow the thunderous percussive backbeat and wondrously expressive vocal of Dan Reynolds wash over him like a crash of waves; the song was loud and strong enough to somehow must the memory in his mind.

First things first

I’ma say all the words inside my head

I’m fired up and tired of the way things have been, oh-ooh

The way things have been, oh-ooh

He drowned himself in the music and let it conquer the disquiet inside of him with his eyes closed, body sunk into the couch and head rested against the back of the cushion. His feet tapped the carpeted floor in time to the beat and his lips mouthed the words unsurely but after the third repeat of the song, he began to belt out the lyrics loudly and intently, fully immersed in the chaos of emotions the lyrics pulled from inside of him.

“Don’t tell me what you think that I could be!” Magnus raised his mug to the words and bared his teeth. “I’m the one at the sail, I’m the master of my sea, oh – ooh!” His magic flared and his mug was switched out for an old fashioned glass, his coffee for whiskey on the rocks, and his exquisite robe for a blood red button-up. “The master of my sea!”

He sipped his drink quickly as he rose up from his seat and then sang, “I was broken from a young age,” at the top of his lungs before taking a few more sips whilst the music continued on around him. “Singing from heartache,” he sung, “from the pain; taking my message from the veins; speaking my lesson from the brain; seeing the beauty through the… PAIN!

“You made me a, you made me a BELIEVER! BELIEVER!” His magic began to surge into his words and they weighted heavily on his body as he became more passionate. “PAIN! You break me down and build me up, believer, believer!” He paused and took a large gulp of his drink as the music continued.

Pain!

Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain

My life, my love, my drive, it came from…

My life my love, my drive, it came from…

Pain!

You made me a, you made me a believer, believer

Magnus breathed in deeply as he refilled his drink and then downed it through another verse before finally tossing his glass away. He stretched his arms up above him as the memory of the last time he had danced in his living room filtered through the haze in his mind “I was choking in the crowd; building my rain up in the cloud; falling like ashes to the ground; hoping my feelings, they would drown.”

“Pain! You made me a, you made me a believer, believer!” His fingers danced gracefully in the air when he tucked his arms to his sides in time with the beat and waved gently still whilst he flew around his living room with precise, controlled movements; and his magic ran freely to command the furniture in his loft to make way for him. “Pain! You break me down and build me up, believer, believer!

“Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain! My life, my love, my drive, it came from…” His eyes fluttered open and he watched as his magic left sparkles of blue in the wake of his movements. “Pain!” He ran to his balcony on his tiptoes, did a twirl and then stopped with his back against the balcony ledge.

“Last things last, by the grace of the fire and the flame,” he sung as his magic sparked red and he whirled around to point at the darkening skyline behind him, “You’re the face of the future, the blood in my veins, oh – ooh!” He threw sparks of rainbow-coloured magic into the air and continued singing as the fireworks begun up above him, “the blood in my veins oh – ooh!”

But they never did, ever lived, ebbing and flowing

Inhibited, limited

Till it broke open and rained down

And rained down, like…

“Pain!” A large red firework exploded up above and then rained down like dazzling rubies. “You made me a, you made me a believer, believer. Pain!” This time a more massive red firework dominated the sky. “You break me down and build me up, believer, believer. Pain!” He waved his hands in the air and rainbow fireworks exploded nonstop, nearly deafening in its raucous but he could just about hear the music still playing.

Oh let the bullets fly, oh let them rain

My life, my love, my drive, it came from…

“Pain!” Magnus leant against the brick ledge of his balcony and stared up wistfully at the bisexual colours now blessing the twilight sky. “You made me a, you made me a believer, believer.” A glass of champagne materialised in between his fingers and he saluted to the sky, to the colours that represented him, before downing his drink.

  The summons to the Institute were getting irksome but as it was a call regarding the dead Nephilim, he hadn’t a choice but to go. But then of course because he was having the best streak of luck, he was consequently detained upon arrival as apparently there was no information to give, they simply wanted him to come of his own free will and fuck the details.

He seethed quietly on the godawful couch he was sat on, questioning why on earth he thought it was a stellar idea to come to the Institute in the first place and wondering how on earth he could salvage his reputation and pride over being caught by such a uselessly overused brainless bait. His inner grumblings came to a stop when the door opened and he met the infuriatingly familiar eyes of one Shadowhunter.

“High Warl –,”

“No,” Magnus halted what was no doubt a riveting speech. He observed the extremely wound up and fidgety Nephilim before him. “I really don’t need to hear whatever meaningless words you rehearsed beforehand. Either you’re here to tell me I’m free to go or you can just do whatever it is you’ve been told to do.”

Alec closed the door and a stubborn look overcame the admittedly-handsome face. “You’re free to go.”

“I’m free to go, am I?” Magnus raised a disbelieving brow.

“I was in Idris and an envoy from the Clave was in charge here for the brief time I was away so I wasn’t able to stop them from detaining you but I’m back.” Alec ran a hand through his hair and continued, “You’re free to go.”

Magnus eyed the Nephilim more closely and traced the rigidly-set expression. “Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why,” Magnus took a step forward. “Are you letting me go after all the fuss to get me here?”

Alec passed a hand through tousled black hair. “There’s no reason to detain you.”

“Well, I know that.” Magnus rolled his eyes.

“I’m the Head of the Institute and what I say goes, envoy from the Clave or not.” Alec declared a little shakily. “You are not being charged with any Clave Violations and you’re free to go.”

Magnus dismissed the statements with a careless wave of his hand. “Why,” He took a few more steps to eliminate the distance between them. “Are you letting me go despite the repercussions you will no doubt receive? What are you aiming for, Alexander?”

“Alexa –,” Alec took a deep breath. “How do you know my full name?”

“Does it matter? Answer my question.” Magnus insisted.

Alec glanced at the door. “I just want to, alright?”

“No, not really.” Magnus slid away, not anticipating a response from the Shadowhunter, and opened the door to the hallway. He was only able to take two steps out before impossible words were blurted out from behind him with a mighty lack of finesse. His foot stopped mid-step and he took his time in turning around to look at the Shadowhunter with an expression that mingled disbelief, disappointment and incredulous sadness. “You go so far to say such words just to get me to trust you, Alexander?”

Alec swallowed visibly. “It’s not – I wasn’t lying. And I didn’t say it to gain anything. I only said it because you asked and I wanted you to know because I can’t stand having you look at me like my purpose in life is to ruin you for the Clave.”

“You can’t possibly mean such words to a person you barely know.” Magnus whispered hauntingly.

Alec shifted forward, brows furrowed and face slack slightly in such a way that made it obvious the Shadowhunter hadn’t completely processed the whole conversation yet.

The expression almost made Magnus believe the words were, however impossible and unbelievable, true. “Don’t use such words so carelessly.” He searched the Nephilim’s eyes one more time before he twisted away to continue on through the hallway and into the elevator with the heat of Alec’s eyes on his back.

His head was bowed as the doors closed and he basked in the darkness as the words rang incessantly inside his head:

“It’s because I like you.”

  Magnus was stopped by the appearance of the Downworlder leaders spilling into the front doors of the Institute and he sighed exasperatedly when Luke informed him that they were called by the Head of the New York Institute for an emergency Downworlder Council Meeting. He tipped his head, gritted his teeth and plastered on a bland smile as he turned around to follow them back into the Institute, taking much care to avoid the eyes of a certain Nephilim.

His eyes never once strayed to those increasingly familiar eyes but he felt the constant stare as if it were something physical. His heart rate was upsettingly fast within his chest and he knew for a fact that even though he had his most passive mask on his face that Raphael could clearly see through his bullshit but – oh, was it so bad that he could see heartbreak in those eyes?

He left the Institute a few hours later in a significantly lower mood and realised that the only good thing that came out of his day was that he knew Raphael wouldn’t bother asking what was wrong.

  Magnus stalked over to his front door and swung it open with an ill-pleased expression. He was thoroughly done with the week and was not at all in the mood for any visitors – especially not ones who didn’t know how to knock quietly. His gaze landed on the dark form of the Nephilim standing outside his door and he went to promptly close his door but his defensive walls must have been wobbling from the constant abuse as he stopped himself just short of slamming his door shut when the Shadowhunter spoke his name in an agitated but pleading tone.

He flung his door open once more in resignation and sauntered over to his decanter without another word; the door clicked closed behind him followed by soft, measured footsteps.

“What is it?”

“I just wanted –,”

Magnus sighed before Alec could continue and handed the Shadowhunter a drink. “Sit and then speak. But if this is about what happened at the Institute, I don’t want to hear any of it.” He took a seat on the couch opposite of the Nephilim and crossed his legs elegantly, poised in waiting. “Well?” He prompted when he was met with silence.

“I’m sorry I said… what I said so abruptly. You don’t know me and I know it’s hard to understand but I,” Alec trailed off and took a brave gulp of the smooth wine, face scrunched as if the burn of alcohol was new, before continuing, “I really admire you and the work you’ve done keeping the Downworlders safe. It’s… I’m not here because of the Clave and I didn’t approach you for them either. I’m here… I’m here because –,”

“Don’t say it.” Magnus snapped.

Alec shifted uneasily and eventually said softly, “Because I want to learn from the best.”

“That is hardly more believable than the other… ‘reason.’” Magnus knocked back his drink and placed his glass on the coffee table with a loud clatter. “Listen, Alexander, I don’t care for the Clave nor do I care for any Nephilim for that matter. Whether or not you’re telling me the truth really doesn’t matter to me because whatever you say, whatever you do, I won’t agree to you following me around or assisting me in any way.”

He snapped his fingers to refill the Shadowhunter’s drink as a courtesy since he was a fantastic host and not an animal and then went on, “What I do involves many interesting information that I know first-hand the Clave would love to get their hands on. Nothing you say or do will remotely sway me so do me and yourself a favour and stop this.”

His fingers twitched and his door slammed open in an obvious cue of dismissal. He eyed it pointedly and then stood up, faced away from the Shadowhunter, to wait for his unwanted guest to leave. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t get his wish and Alec merely stood up to stand side-by-side with him.

“I’ll be an important asset for you as the Head of the New York Institute.”

The words were said hesitantly and lightly as if Alec knew exactly how foolish the offer was as an esteemed Shadowhunter. Magnus nearly broke his neutral facial expression to give way for absolute shock. He swallowed and leant back to face the Nephilim who was now uncharacteristically ignoring eye-contact.

Oh, how the situation has reversed.

“And what exactly can I expect from you being my asset?”

Alec’s brows furrowed and an irritatingly-familiar stubborn look crossed the Shadowhunter’s face. “I had my sister destroy the evidence of you being anywhere near Raj’s body for starters.”

Of all the things Magnus was expecting or not-expecting to hear, he had definitely not considered something like what had just been said. His eyes widened incredulously and he let out a short breath. “Why?” He asked as he shook his head near-imperceptibly. “That envoy will bury your whole family for that – you’re useless to me.”

“Please,” Alec’s emphasised with a stronger tone as their eyes finally met. “I’m more competent than you’re giving me credit for. Besides, the envoy was sent back to Idris and thanks to your gift to the Clave, they have agreed to back off.”

“For now,” Magnus remarked idly.

Alec tilted his head in acquiescence. “Let me take care of the Clave for you.”

“And what do you want in return, Alexander?”

The Shadowhunter blurted out two words with an incredibly red face, an outstanding blush stark against Alec’s pale skin, and Magnus would be lying if he said it wasn’t at least a little bit endearing. He touched a scorching hot cheek with two fingertips and stepped a little closer and then muttered a short, “no.”

At once, Alec’s whole face fell and an annoying ringing disturbed them. The Nephilim fumbled a little with a flashing phone taken from a bulging pocket and muttered, “I’ll think of something else,” before bolting like a heartbroken mundane.

Magnus rubbed his chest to soothe the strange ache there as he crossed the length of his living room to watch the Shadowhunter walk away from his window; the Nephilim becoming steadily downtrodden and soaked by the pouring rain.

“A date, huh?”

  Peace was a hard thing to come by these days, Magnus grumbled internally when another round of knocks disturbed mere hours later. As much as he’d love to ignore it, he was the High Warlock and he cherished his position along with all its responsibilities which, at that moment, meant he should open his door.

“Lucian,” He greeted none-too-enthused before he, much like earlier, went straight for his bar cart. “This isn’t a social visit I take it.” His tone was forcibly airy as he poured them both generous helpings of bourbon. “I admit, I’m not in the best of moods currently.”

“Then I won’t beat around the bush.” Luke accepted the drink with a grateful smile. “Maia was an inch away from death earlier tonight.”

“Maia…” Magnus’ grip tightened on his glass and a fragile crack let him know he was about to make a mess on his Egyptian carpet. “You don’t seem too worried.”

“She’s a tough kid. She’s fine now but I saw who did it.” Luke explained through gritted teeth. The werewolf’s green eyes were ablaze, body muscles shifting unnaturally as it fought to turn. “It was Elias.”

Magnus stopped breathing for a moment and the dark anticipation that had been building up inside of him at the prospect of hunting down his prey dropped away with a shocked jolt as the name registered in his mind. “Elias?” He stared at his hand, remembering all the time he had spent teaching the younger man to be a more skilled warlock.

“Elias.” Betrayal morphed into anger as he growled out the traitor’s name and he twisted around to blast his collection of fine spirits with excessive magic force. They exploded loudly and disappeared into a cloud of red electricity; not a single drop ruined the carpet.

“He portalled away before I could capture him.” Luke said, eyes on the volatile magic still singeing the air when he continued, “I trust you’ll deal with him?”

Magnus’ glamour dropped and he let the full force of his golden cat eyes out. “Naturally.”

“Great, I’ll –,” Luke paused and produced a vibrating phone from a pocket. “Clary…”

 When they arrived at the Institute, it was a carnage; bodies were everywhere and half the building had crumbled down. Magnus tapped his hand against Luke’s chest to stop the man from charging in. “Be on high alert. If Elias is involved then we can be sure of one thing: he’s not working alone.”

He parted ways with Luke after the warning and used his magic to clear his path, uncaring of where the debris went so long as they didn’t soil his expensive clothes. His magic kept on blasting everything away from his path as he stalked through the mess until he spotted the distant hysterical figure of Isabelle Lightwood.

His brows furrowed as he saw her battle against an unknown warlock who was, though weak, very quick in dealing out attacks. She was holding her own but as he got closer, he realised that she was continuously glancing at her side where a terribly injured Alec stood tall against a stronger female warlock.

With a simple swipe of his hand, he used his magic to jail the weaker warlock much like he did with Camille and relieved Isabelle of her adversary; she didn’t waste time and merely nodded curtly at him in thanks before running to support her brother. His glamour was still down when he stood before the cell to survey the young warlock who cowered upon seeing him.

He smirked and snapped his fingers to send the jailed warlock to the Clave as well then twisted around to check on the Lightwoods. His eyebrows raised when he found that he had to stretch his hand out immediately in order to block an attack from injuring him and his alertness increased as, before the red sparks could completely fizzle out before him, the female warlock threw a mundane punch at him.

Magnus ducked quickly, reared back his clawed hand and then slashed the other warlock’s thigh. She collapsed onto the ground though quickly recovered with a snarl, her hair whipped back as she thrust her hand at his lower back. His heart skipped as he knew he wouldn’t block in time whilst he was faced away from her so he gambled: he twisted his body mid-movement to allow himself space to grab her hand but he felt a wave of heat against his back and knew he was too late.

He closed his eyes with a cringe and recoiled back when a hand landed on his face.

It took a moment to feel the gentleness of the hand and he opened his eyes to see Isabelle examine him like he was a patient in a hospital. Her smile was wide and genuine when their eyes met and she patted him on the shoulder with a sincere, “I’m glad you’re fine. I just incapacitated her with my whip so you can take her if you want.” She smiled again before going after her big brother once more.

He stood there for a minute longer, eyes wide and hand half-way up to touch his face as his whole body buzzed with a foreign yet nostalgic feeling. With a rigorous shake of his head, however, he switched his focus back to the fight and headed over to the Lightwood siblings; they were fighting against four Ravener demons; though two of them were well on their way back to Hell.

His eyebrows raised in disbelief when he saw that Alec’s stubbornness bled into every aspect of the Nephilim’s life; the Shadowhunter had sustained a profusely bleeding injury on the side yet was still fighting. He rolled his eyes, slid past the Nephilim with a tap on Alec’s back to notify the Shadowhunter of his presence and took over the battle.

The two near-dead Ravener demons disappeared in a fall of sparks by his hands as the third lunged at him. He sunk his hand into its chest, fingers curled in, and after a brush of the damn thing’s tentacles, blew the demon up. His magic sparked violently when he felt a strange swipe at his nape and he was unable to avoid the splatter of demon vile because of it.

Blinded by the disgusting liquid that covered his eyes, he took a step back and tried to ward off an attack by putting his hands up in front of him but got caught in a tangle of limbs. He fell hard onto the ground with a heavy weight on top of him and grunted in pain from the debris that dug into his back.

An electrifying zap along with Isabelle’s loud roar later and he was relieved of the weight on top of him. He cleaned his face with a snap of his freed hand and nearly gasped when the first thing he saw was a tentacle sticking out of Alec’s already severely-injured side. His hands grappled on the cluttered ground as he moved to kneel down beside the Nephilim’s unmoving, bleeding form.

The Shadowhunter was, for the second time since they had met, clammy and horribly pale. He swiftly flicked his wrist to lift Alec from the ground and followed as Isabelle led the way to the same bedroom he had been privy to a few days ago. He laid the Nephilim on the bed slowly and nearly dropped the Shadowhunters when his magic stuttered in the middle of process.

“Are you okay?”

Magnus looked at Isabelle weirdly, hand fisted to contain the trembling, and wondered why on earth the Nephilim was bothering with more pleasantries when her brother was dying slowly before them. He crouched down, placed his hand on Alec’s bloody chest and pushed his magic in to search for what he needed to heal immediately. His muscles quivered inside him from the magical strain but he powered through, ignored the tell-tale signs of exhaustion and fed his some of his life force into Alec to heal the injury at an unnatural speed.

When it closed shut without even a trace of scar, he let out a relieved sigh and then proceeded to extract the flow of his life force from the Shadowhunter’s body – except he couldn’t. He physically pulled his hand away from Alec’s chest with much effort, terrified, and the connection snapped violently, suddenly. His arm flung to the side as an effect and his magic blasted off the items on top of the side table, startling Isabelle who, for a split-second, turned into a spitting image of Raj in his mind’s eye.

He took in short breaths, eyes blown wide, and didn’t even flinch when Isabelle gathered his hands and to proceed to rub them soothingly. “I –,” His breathing stuttered and he looked at the Shadowhunter speechlessly.

“What is it you need?”

Magnus licked his lips and pulled his hands away to step closer towards Alec’s body. “I’m going to have to bring your brother to my loft for the duration of recovery. There’s something I’d like to check and it’ll be easier there.”

“Of course,” Isabelle replied immediately. “Let me help.”

  Pandemonium was the Kingdom where Magnus was King. It was his safe space, his real estate baby. It was the product of his passion, his love, his blood, his sweat, and his tears. But most of all, it was the safe haven for Downworlders and he couldn’t be fucked why there were filthy Shadowhunters in it.

Clary was in front of him in a simple black dress with a rather unfortunate-looking blonde Shadowhunter as a companion. And, oh – Alec breezed past him with a furious look and he followed the Nephilim’s movements interestedly to see a dead Circle member soiling his precious floor with the blood that seeped out of the chest pierced through by a red-fletched arrow.

But then a smile crossed his face, unbidden, as he felt mildly impressed by the fact that Alec had apparently shot the arrow from Hell-knows-where. He did not expect the Shadowhunter to wield a bow and arrow of all things but it wasn’t an unpleasant thought. Plus, the Nephilim was rather attractive looking so competent, he decided as Alec flipped a seraph blade with ease.

His stomach fluttered with the beginnings of a butterfly.

Magnus sat up on the bed, surprised at himself for dreaming such a thing, and stifled a jump when a hot hand carefully rested on his shoulder blade. He let out a breath and shook his head at himself for falling asleep beside the Shadowhunter. “Go back to sleep, Alexander.” His tone was weird but he supposed he could be forgiven when he just uttered such words that reminded of long-forgotten domesticity.

“Are you alright, Magnus?” Alec questioned so very softly.

“I’m fine,” Magnus replied hoarsely though he could laugh at how unconvincing he sounded. He was so far from fine; his magic was still depleted, his glamour was down and he had an acquaintance to track down – nothing was fine.  “I’m just tired. Sleep, Alexander, I rather not keep you here to recover for longer than necessary.”

Alec predictably ignored his last words. “Please.”

“Just go back to sleep,” Magnus repeated tiredly.

“I just want to know if you’re alright.”

Magnus rubbed his face with his hands and sighed loudly. “My glamour is down and I can’t put it back up because I wasted my magic on you, is that enough?” He winced internally at his own stupidity for revealing that he was in a weak state and stiffened reflexively, awaiting for a fight though he knew it would be a fair one with the Shadowhunter still weak.

“Your cat eyes?” Alec whispered somewhere close to reverence.

“You Nephilim are truly nosy,” Magnus commented in annoyance. “Do me a favour and purge my file of personal details.” He requested carelessly, fuelled by obvious irritation. “Fucking –,”

“Can I see?”

Magnus almost did as asked when he moved to level a glare at the Shadowhunter but he caught himself in time. “What part of anything I said made you think I’d show you?”

Again, Alec ignored his words. “Please, can I see?”

“Fine,” Magnus muttered before he realised what he had just said. He could have cursed himself for it but he didn’t because for whatever strange reason, he wanted to show his eyes and test the Nephilim’s intentions. His inhale was short and the next second he was looking behind him, cat eyes bright and he felt vulnerable for the first time in a very long time.

He stiffened when Alec shifted forward to reach out and hold his face gently, heart thudding as loud as a thundering roar inside of him. Their breaths hitched at the same time and the Shadowhunter’s genuinely awed expression largely thawed his ice-encapsulated heart. He rose up a little when Alec suddenly cupped his face and neck and then he swallowed cautiously, sure his eyes were blown wide.

“They’re beautiful.” Alec’s smile was breathtaking.

Magnus searched Alec’s eyes as his own were searched and the beginnings of a true smile crept along his lips; he felt like a dehydrated man given a drop of water whilst in the midst of a drought. His eyes softened and for a moment he felt like transporting them both into a heavenly dimension with an earth-shattering kiss but it passed and instead he curled his ring-laden fingers around Alec’s wrist.

And there they stayed for a long time whilst many moments passed, one after the other, with him just staring into the Alec’s eyes and for once he felt like his old self who still believed in love.

  The loft was quiet save for the clinking of glass and metal as Magnus made himself a dry martini. He had managed to take back the life energy he had fed into Alec’s body. There would always be a trace left behind however though he was trying his hardest to ignore that fact.

In the first place, it was frowned upon to use such method let alone on a Nephilim. However, his decision was made with a snap – though this time not literally – and he could hardly regret it when it was quite obvious Alec had sustained a worse injury by blocking the attack meant for him. After all, far be it for him to let anyone, even a Shadowhunter, die from protecting him when he could save them even when that meant he might be criticised severely for it were anyone to find out.

He poured the stirred martini into a martini glass and sipped as he went to sit on his couch before he continued ruminating.

The last time he had been so terrified of his own magic was when it had been corrupted by Camille after a few too many sips of her blood. It was an ill-advised decision he had done in the name of crippling love and one he would never fall for again knowingly; feelings clouded rational judgement all too much. At least, that’s what he told himself a century ago yet here he was, Alec in his bedroom and a dark cloud of foreboding over his head.

His phone flashed and he silenced it with a wave before it could make any noise.

 Lucian Garroway

[Azazel is working with the enemy. Can you send him back to hell?]

 Magnus Bane

[He’s a Prince of Hell. Do you expect me to just wave my hand?]

 Lucian Garroway

[How can I help?]

 Magnus Bane

[I’ll let you know.]

 The doorbell rang then and he barely restrained himself from muttering a well-deserved, “for fuck’s sake.” He downed his martini and tossed it away then stalked over to his door to open it only to wish he never did. His glare must have delivered his message well enough as they all had the decency to look down.

“Sorry,” Clary started, “I know it’s late and you’re helping Alec recover but –,”

Magnus sighed impatiently. “But what?”

“Luke said you might need help summoning Azazel or killing him or whatever it is and we want to offer our help and strength if you need it.”

“Why does he bother to text if he’s just going to send you lot anyway?” Magnus huffed but swept his arm in a welcoming gesture because, unhappy as he was, he needed the help if he was to do this now. And he would be doing so as he’d like to not have any more bloodshed nor for the body count to increase any more. “Do you draw well?”

Clary’s lips stretched into a thrilled smile. “Yes, I’m an art student.”

“Really,” Magnus eyed her from head-to-toe just to check if she really was a Shadowhunter or not. He had never heard of any Nephilim that was at the beck-and-call of the New York Werewolf Pack nor one that mingled with mundanes enough to study in one of the colleges. An art student of all things… Honestly, the New York Institute became stranger the more he learned about the people there. “Draw this on the floor then.” He handed her a paper and then snapped his fingers.

An opened door appeared in the middle of the living room to reveal a church’s interior complete with odd white statues. He peered into it interestedly to check the vicinity then summoned a chalk set for Clary. She grabbed it from the air with a wide excited smile and went through the door without hesitation followed by the rest of the Nephilim.

He eyed the unfortunate-looking blonde one strangely as the Shadowhunter moved past him, certain it was the same Shadowhunter he had seen in his dreams though perhaps it was just because he saw the man somewhere during the attack on the Institute. His wards rippled then and he glanced towards his bedroom in time to see Alec step out looking well-rested and recovered.

“Magnus?”

“Alexander, I have business to attend to,” Magnus explained as he valiantly ignored the fluttering in his stomach from the rough voice with which his name was said. “Feel free to lounge around and eat whatever is edible in my kitchen but don’t touch anything other than my furniture and television.”

“Where are you going?” Alec came closer and looked into the open door. “Is that – why are they there?”

Magnus tried to block the view with his body. “Something undoubtedly too dangerous to involve you in your current state.”

“Oh.” Alec’s lips twitched up. “I appreciate that but I doubt you can summon anyone with only four of you. Besides, I only need to stand there and nothing else, right?”

The silence stretched long enough for Clary to try to re-enter the portal door back into the loft to no avail as Magnus fought to not gape at the Nephilim’s knowledge of warlock summoning markings.

“Fine; you are right about that.”

  Ten candles lit up the intersecting points of the Pentagram on the concrete ground and with one look at the determined faces of all the Shadowhunters, Magnus began the summoning. A line glowed with the fire of Hell after every demand that streamed from his lips and every grand movement of his arms. “Come, Azazel.”

The Pentagram glowed then between one breath and the next and then Azazel materialised in the middle of the mystical confinement with a force of gravity so immense they were all thrown out of their positions. It was a familiar lick of Hell’s fire within his veins, scorching and torturous, that greeted him when he hit the ground but he couldn’t fight the source of his own power off so he focused on keeping his eyes open as Azazel stalked over.

He glared with a rough mixture of pain, fear and hatred when Azazel dared to touch him. His gasp was loud, he knew though he could barely hear it through the ringing in his ears, as the pain doubled with the touch. “Azazel,” he rasped.

“Tsk, tsk, you dare summon me?”

Magnus grimaced and glared hard. “I will kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first, little Bane.” Azazel smiled then and let go. “But I’d be waging war against Asmodeus and you’re far too inconsequential to endure such hassle for.”

Magnus shuddered and his eyes widened as a final jolt of crippling pain ran through his spine. His view of the world around him spun and spun and spun until he could hardly tell what was up or down, whether he was still on the ground or not, and then – then, strong yet gentle hands cradled his body up from the floor and he was being embraced.

“Are you okay?” Alec murmured worriedly, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a firm line.

Magnus took a moment to gather himself as the world came to a still once more. His cheeks burned from the intimate position but he hadn’t the energy to reject the help. The attack on his blood and magic had left him even weaker and he supposed he should be thankful that he was with Shadowhunters who could recover much quicker from the demonic attack. “Fine.” He finished.

Alec looked supremely unconvinced. “If you don’t mind, I can carry you back to the loft,” the Shadowhunter said and before Magnus could say another word, continued, “Don’t worry, the others are guarding the exits so they aren’t around.”

“I don’t suppose it’d be reasonable to say no.” Magnus rasped out.

“No,” Alec replied, face stiffened though it wasn’t in anger or anything. On the contrary, he seemed ready to bust out a megawatt grin. “Hang tight.”

Magnus reluctantly wrapped his arms around Alec’s broad shoulders and held tight with as much dignity as he could muster considering the circumstance. He consoled himself by ensuring that he felt up the young Shadowhunter whilst he could without being obvious about it.

When they passed through the portal and into the loft’s threshold, Alec deposited him on a couch then went straight for the kitchen. He watched the Shadowhunter go and then snapped his fingers to close the portal when Alec disappeared from view. His body was trembling worryingly and he noted this distantly, as his mind refocused on the name Azazel had mentioned so carelessly earlier.

He hadn’t thought about the Greater Demon that had brought about his existence onto Earth in a very long time. Ever since that day he had summoned Asmodeus to answer his curiosities, he had thrown the name and memory into the deepest, darkest depths of his mind. The answers he had received that day had shattered him and for many years after he had been lost and devastated.

To possess the same eyes and blood as such an evil creature had confirmed his most terrible insecurities and for a very dark decade, he had believed himself to be what he had been accused of as a child – a demon.

Magnus inhaled sharply Alec knelt down before him and it was only then that he felt a tear slide down his cheek. His eyes were his weakness, he thought, and they always conveyed his vulnerabilities. Still, he met the Shadowhunter’s eyes and noted idly that Alec was somehow more handsome with so much care etched onto fair features.

His eyes fluttered closed briefly when a warm hand cupped his face, the weight warm and reassuring and so different to Azazel’s. He relaxed infinitesimally and leant into the heat for affection. “You don’t have to stay. Your presence must be required after the devastating attack to the Institute,” he murmured softly.

“Izzy is more than capable of handling things,” Alec dismissed gently but with confidence. “All I’m worried about is you. I want to help if you’ll allow me.”

Magnus slumped into the warm hand tiredly. “I really should say no,” he mumbled to himself.

“You can lean on me, Magnus.”

The words were laced with painful sincerity and rendered Magnus incapable of rejecting the offer nor the hug he was pulled into afterwards. His heart skipped a beat when Alec’s warm body pressed against his and he eventually allowed himself to sink into the comforting embrace.

Strangely, it felt like coming home.

  Cool wind filtered in through the open balcony door and blew through Magnus’ hair which hung limply over his face. His lips downturned slightly and his eyelashes fluttered sleepily as he roused. Ring-laden hands rose up to rub at his smudged eyes before they opened to peek at the low-lit living room and the blanket he was tucked into shifted down to collect on his lap.

He stretched lazily on the couch to deal with the kinks that came with sleeping on a couch and then completely pulled off the blanket from his body with a curious look since he knew he wouldn’t have had the energy or care to have used one. His eyes darted around his living room for any signs of life and he huffed out a disbelieving sigh when he saw that his coffee table was filled with plates of food and a pitcher of water along with a glass.

“Ridiculous Nephilim…” He muttered though he’d dare not admit to even himself that he sounded the least bit fond. His eyes lit up when he noticed a seraph blade on the carpeted floor and he cast a feel to his wards for the location of the missing Alec. He found him along with Clary’s energy signature and figured that she was the one who had brought the food.

The odd bunch of Shadowhunters that the New York Institute housed was disconcerting.

His attention strayed over to his blinking phone and he picked it up to check the time as well as the messages he had on there. There were a few from Catarina, a rare occurrence, and one from Ragnor, even rarer. He opened up their texts only to feel a trickle of cold fear at the panicked messages and the alarming situation: Azazel was poisoning the minds of the New York Institute Shadowhunters.

He called Catarina first with a sense of urgency in his mind and a slight sense of relief that Alec – and Clary – were in his home, safe away from harm. His phone rang once, twice, thrice and he was ready to call Ragnor instead when he heard a click and finally Catarina’s voice came through.

“Magnus, where have you been?”

“Is everything back to normal?” Magnus countered.

Catarina made an impatient noise from the other line. “Yes. Ragnor and I have managed to lift the spell on the Shadowhunters but Azazel is still out there and we need to send him back to Hell.”

“We need to hunt Elias down as well.”

“Ragnor is on it.” Catarina dismissed. “I’ll handle the Nephilim and the rebuilding of their Institute. These children need all the help they can get after all.”

“And I suppose you want me to handle Azazel?” Magnus questioned sarcastically. He was already feeling exhausted once more and he hadn’t even moved from his spot. “I need time to recover.”

“Recover?”

Magnus ran his hand through his hair and slid off his couch to grab a Chinese take-out box. “It’s a long story. I’ll deal with Azazel tomorrow, alright?”

“Rest and I’ll check up on you when I’m done here.”

“I will, Cat.” Magnus promised, a slight smile on his face at the care and concern in his friend’s voice. “Keep me updated on Elias’ status, will you?” He asked as he grabbed some utensils to dig in for his first bite.

“Remember to sleep. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Magnus rolled his eyes when the line died. He tossed his phone aside and began to seriously dig into his food whilst he silently dreamed of an eight-ounce steak, medium-rare, and copious amounts of martini. His eyes drooped a little when he was nearly done and he set aside the box lest he soil his clothes.

He was contemplating between going back to sleep or taking a boiling hot bath when he heard a loud shrill from his rooftop where he was quite certain his Shadowhunter guests still were. His arm hairs rose in alarm and he bolted off his couch with the least bit of finesse to hurry up the roof.

Outside, his wards flared and became impenetrable at his command.

His hand fumbled with the doorknob to the roof and he was reduced to flinging it open with his magic in time to see Alec tip over the edge of his balcony ledge. He raised his hand in shocked reflex, his breath hitched in his throat, and caught Alec a hair’s breadth away from plunging into an irreversible death.

“Oh my god,” Clary gasped.

“What happened?” Magnus questioned as he lowered Alec onto the nearest chair, his brows furrowed. He ran his fingers through the unruly black hair and pressed a hand against a runed neck to check the pulse; the beat was steady and slow.

Clary wrapped her arms around herself before answering. “Azazel was here.”

“What?” Magnus whipped his face to the side, startled, as he pushed some of his magic into Alec. His wards rippled visibly behind her and he closed his eyes in annoyance for having not noticed that there was subtle change to it. It was a rookie mistake and one he wouldn’t excuse himself for even if he was too weak to have realised such thing without cause at the moment. “Tell me everything.”

“Azazel came through a portal. He said he’d taken some of your magic earlier so he could get past your wards then he tried to attack us. Alec got in the way and he was hit by some sort of spell but he seemed fine whilst he fought with Azazel. It wasn’t until Azazel escaped that…” Clary shrugged. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what happened but in the next moment he was saying a lot of things then went to stand on the ledge. He… He refused to listen to anything I said. It was like I wasn’t even here.”

“What was he saying?”

Clary shifted uneasily. “It’s not really… my place to say.”

“...alright.” Magnus raised an eyebrow at her then shook his head. “Alec isn’t the only Shadowhunter affected by Azazel tonight. The New York Institute was targeted but my friends have taken care of the situation. I had thought you would be safe here but clearly, I was wrong.”

He snapped his fingers and his wards shimmered bright yellow for a few seconds before settling down into solid blackness. “Stay the night, why don’t you? Both of you. You’ve been through an ordeal after all and I’d be a terrible host otherwise.” His tone was light but he made sure she knew it wasn’t a question.

“Thanks,” Clary’s lips quirked up a little to convey a grateful smile then her gaze shifted to Alec’s subdued form.

“Down the stairs, first door on the right,” Magnus spoke up before she could say anything. “Feel free to grab some food and drinks in the kitchen if you need some, otherwise everything you may need for the night will be in the room.”

The door leading back into the loft opened up invitingly with a snap of his fingers and he watched her go before turning around to observe Alec’s slumbering form. He traced his fingertips along a creased forehead and smoothed the lines there whilst he allowed a little of his magic to seep through the skin in order to dispel any lingering magic from Azazel’s spell.

His focus on the task was such that, without realising it, he had bowed down so close to the other and by the time he noticed, Alec’s eyes were opening slowly and all he could do was hold his breath because he was suddenly overwhelmed. It was an odd feeling, not unwanted but strange, and he could see the same conflicted emotions swirling inside Alec’s expressive eyes.

He shivered a little when a warm hand curved familiarly around his neck and his eyes fluttered closed when their foreheads met. His breaths shortened with every inhale of the gently sweet scent that could only be Alec’s and his heart quivered dangerously inside his chest. “Alexander,” he whispered.

“Don’t go.”

Magnus screwed his eyes shut even more tightly at the soft, vulnerable pleading. He carefully slid his fingers down Alec’s check to cover the other’s neck with his hand and then tilted the other’s face closer until their noses touched. His heart was beating even faster in confusion and trepidation but he ignored it and he let himself bask in the gentleness of the situation. “I won’t,” he promised, foolishly, stupidly, and hopefully.

Even with his eyes closed, he felt Alec’s smile.

  “And so?” Magnus raised a brow from behind his martini.

Ragnor was sat across from him beside Catarina like the old married couple they always seemed to be when together, the signature surly expression ever-present. “Elias was not acting alone. There is a group out there under Azazel’s control.”

“Names?”

“Iris Rouse and Kaelie Whitewillow are the only ones left,” Catarina informed. “We’ve already alerted the Seelie Queen and she has explicitly promised to deal with Kaelie.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and took a generous sip of his martini. “Good, then we only have to deal with Iris and Azazel.” He twirled the glass with his fingers and watched as the liquid swirled. “What did you do with Elias?”

“I sent him to the Clave since dirty work is about all they’re good for.” Ragnor smirked.

“True enough,” Magnus took a long sip. “I sent Camille to them; she’d been nurturing feeding dens again.” He sighed and put his martini away when he saw that his phone was blinking so he could pick up the device to check his notifications. “Did Elias not change when you lifted off Azazel’s spell?”

“Hard to say but Azazel can only prey upon what’s already inside a person’s mind so they must have their own reasons to have done what they did.” Catarina explained. “There is no excuse.”

“Right…” Magnus acknowledged distractedly as he read the multiple garbled messages from Isabelle. He rubbed at his furrowed brows for a few seconds before he finally gave up on trying to decipher the mess and called her. “Something must be happening to the Nephilim again. They’re helpless.”

“You sound disturbingly fond,” Ragnor remarked in mild disgust.

Magnus clenched his jaw and glared. “I am not.” He raised a hand to keep his friend from speaking up again when the call went through and he could hear the loud noise of alarms going off from the other side. The wave of worry that sparked through him unsettled him. “High Warlock of Brooklyn,” he greeted cautiously.

“Hel – Can someone shut that down?!” The alarms went silent. “Finally. Hello?”

“Yes?” Magnus prompted.

“Oh by the Angel, you’re late.”

Magnus raised a brow. “You do realise I’m not at the beck and call of the Shadowhunters?”

“Of course, I do. It’s just – Azazel was here a while ago so I called you for help.”

“What?” Magnus stood up swiftly in attention.

“Everything’s fine now! He’s dead so there’s no need to worry about him anymore.”

Magnus rubbed at his jaw. “Who killed him? Was anyone affected by Azazel’s spell?”

“Alec did!” Isabelle sounded immensely proud and rightly so. “And no, we’re all fine. Could you… could you still come over though? I need to talk to you – preferably not over the phone. And I’d go over but… Alec’s in a bit of a high so I’m acting Head right now and that means I need to stay.”

“Is it urgent?”

“Yeah… Yeah, it is.”

Magnus pursed his lips. “Alright, I’ll be there in five.” He hung up without awaiting a reply and then picked up his martini to down the remaining contents. “My presence is needed at the Institute. I’ll see you all later.” His friends waved him away and he snapped himself a portal.

A second later and he was outside the Institute. It was fully repaired and stood tall in all its glory as if the attack a few days ago hadn’t happened. He silently commended Catarina on her exemplary repair work as he eyed the Shadowhunters running about, some practicing on the grounds and the rest running into the Institute from somewhere.

From the crowd spilling in through the doors, he saw Alec rush out with a troubled, vacant expression. The Shadowhunter bolted down the steps in a hurry and wildly looked around in search of something or someone. He edged slowly towards the Nephilim, unsure whether he wanted to speak to Alec so soon after what had happened in his rooftop, but the choice was taken out of his hands when he noticed that the Shadowhunter was murmuring his name.

An ungodly flutter passed his stomach and he was reaching out to catch the Nephilim’s black jacket sleeve before he could think about it with a terrifyingly vulnerable feeling he was sure was present on his face. Alec pulled him into a hug immediately and whilst he reciprocated it in reflex at first, he eventually tightened his hold on the shaking Shadowhunter tightly – but with his eyes closed because he could not deal with seeing the other Nephilim stare.

It was a short hug, thank Hell.

He cast a worried look at Alec when they pulled apart; the Shadowhunter’s hand on his upper arm burned but he ignored it in lieu of focusing on the Nephilim’s panting and insane words. He stared in awed shock, unsure why the same words were being repeated to him after his harsh reaction the first time and oddly pleasantly surprised by the sincerity in the other’s eyes. Still, he shook his head and swallowed and then said, “Alexander, I’m sorry.”

Magnus saw the heartbreak break through the haggard look on Alec’s face and was about to say something else when he was grabbed and the next thing he was aware of was that he was being kissed. His eyes closed from the suddenness but despite the screaming in his mind, he merely hovered his hands uncertainly by the Shadowhunter’s back. As the kiss deepened, his defences cracked and between one moment and the next, he had surrendered willingly and was kissing back.

He let out a small gasp when they parted and murmured a short, “Alexander.” His face scrunched up as he let himself revel in the closeness of their foreheads and noses touching so gently and his heart beat harder when he was embraced once more and this time, he felt his defences shatter completely.

It wasn’t as terrifying as he thought it would be.

  The sun was setting when Magnus returned to his loft with a bumbling Simon in tow. His meeting with Isabelle had both been illuminating and disappointing, the information he had gotten certainly enough for him to visit Raphael later to give the Clan Leader a good long lecture. First, however, was the fledgling that was still going on and on with excuses.

He stalked across his loft the living room to sit down on his couch as the fledgling continued to yammer on. Irritated, he snapped his fingers to slam the balcony doors closed and effectively ceased the endless stream of nonsense. His expression must have been incredibly unhappy because Simon took one glance at him then promptly sat on the floor with a bowed head. “What you did –,”

“It wasn’t – I… I only introduced her to it because it was new for me too and I didn’t know better. Honestly, I thought she stopped when I did! Besides, it’s because of me those dens are no longer up and running so –,”

“Shut up.” Magnus rubbed his forehead to stave off an oncoming migraine. “I don’t care if you started going to those dens because of Camille or not. You introduced Isabelle to the pleasures of the vampire bite and stopping her addiction to it was your responsibility. If she hadn’t come to me for help, she’d have spiralled down into an addiction neither you nor I could have saved her from without excruciating pain.”

Simon’s head shot up. “Does that mean you can still help her without it hurting?”

“Yes.” Magnus glared. “But that doesn’t excuse your disappointing lack of accountability.” He stood up and pointed at the fledgling who recoiled in fear. “Stay here while I take care of Isabelle then we’re leaving and I’ll have Raphael deal with you.”

He pivoted and went up to the rooftop where Isabelle was waiting, having arrived by portal. “This will only take a moment.” She smiled gratefully at him and he could see her former beauty shining through her pasty skin and the bags under her eyes. “It’s really a good thing you came to me so soon. Two more days and the recovery would be akin to having an agony rune active on your skin without pause.”

Isabelle swallowed visibly. “Seeing my brother shaken from adrenaline, I realised I shouldn’t be so complacent about the fact that I’ve been shaking for a good few days,” She explained. “I needed the push to make me remember that I’m a scientist and I know better.”

“It’s a good thing.” Magnus snapped his fingers for his spell book and it appeared in his hand, open to the required page. “Stay still and don’t fight the magic.” His magic dusted the air blue as he waved his hand and he began the recovery spell.

  Night had properly fallen and it was about time to depart for Raphael’s yet Magnus was stood on his balcony, his attention divided between the latest fashion video playing on his floating phone and the ball of magic he was lazily playing with. It was only when a message popped up in the middle of his screen that he noted the time and the unconscious smile that had been on his lips previously faded into a faint memory.

Annoyed at the disturbance, he threw his magical ball carelessly behind him with more force than necessary. He heard a soft noise from behind followed by a yelp and withheld a snort before he whirled around to let Simon know the change in plans but was faced with Alec instead.

“Alexander,” he uttered, surprised.

“Uh…”

Magnus blinked and wrangled his expression into a neutral one when he realised it was, in fact, Simon staring at him and he had apparently conjured up Alec from his imagination. “Alexander,” he repeated as he rapidly thought up something to say, “Will be furious when he hears about Isabelle.”

“Does – Does he know?” Simon stuttered, looking, if possible, even more terrified.

“Who knows?” Magnus countered distractedly. He could still remember, clear as day, all the times he did pest control at his club and kicked out every damn Nephilim, especially Circle members, that dared walked through his club but there he was, imagining a Shadowhunter in his home. “Fuck.”

“What’s this?”

Magnus turned to Simon then promptly ducked as a magical force blasted hotly above his back and destroyed his bookcase. He snapped his fingers and banished the artefact from the fledgling’s stunned hands. “Hands off my property.”

“Er.” Simon’s hands rose in surrender. “Sorry.”

Rolling his eyes, Magnus summoned a portal into existence and ushered the fledgling in before any more damage could be done. He stepped through afterwards and quickly sensed that something was wrong. His magic sparked angrily and he left the frozen Simon at the entrance hallway for the dining room to see a Nephilim beating Raphael up.

Fury crawled his veins as he stopped the Shadowhunter’s fist from a distance with his magic and gritted his teeth when Angel strength warred with his powers. His jaw clenched in even more anger when he saw Raphael’s blood pool on the polished floor and he tightened his hold on the Nephilim before pulling inwards strongly; the Shadowhunter crashed landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Magnus’ emotions curdled up into a mess inside of his chest when he saw that the Nephilim wasn’t just anyone but Alec. He stared at the Shadowhunter blankly and regretted his earlier comment to Simon now that he had seen the effect of Isabelle’s situation coming to light.

“What –,” Alec’s head snapped up, anger written all over the handsome face which drained away with dizzying speed when their eyes met. “Magnus?”

“Not the best impression after kissing me, mind you, but it’s not the worst, I’ll give you that.” Magnus remarked in a plain tone, still refusing to comprehend that Alec had just been beating up someone he considered his son in the privacy of his mind. He moved on without another word and crouched down by Raphael’s side who grimaced in pain and roughly wiped off blood from a split lip. “Stop,” he commanded.

Raphael lowered his hand but a scowl appeared in the midst of the grimace.

“You know I’m right and you’re just making it worse.” Magnus swiped his finger over his friend’s face and cleared the blood off. “I’m not healing you,” he informed and Raphael’s lips turned down by the sides even more. “You don’t deserve it for being a poor leader to Simon. I will leave Simon here and you will teach him everything he must know to the best of your abilities while I clean up the rest of the mess with the Lightwoods. Alright?”

“Yes,” Raphael muttered.

“Good. Take care of yourself and don’t ignore the fledgling.” Magnus stood up to check on Alec but the other was already standing by the door with an upset expression. He trailed his eyes over the body he had held in his arms so intimately just yesterday and found himself incredibly conflicted with how not angry he felt at Alec for laying a hand on Raphael.

“I know.”

Magnus peered over his shoulder at Raphael and raised a brow. “Know what?”

“That you have something going on with him.”

“Is that why you didn’t fight back?” Magnus hummed when Raphael nodded and eyed Alec again who had started fidgeting. “I appreciate it.” He walked off after that, having nothing else to say, and stopped before Alec. “I’m going to my loft. Are you coming?”

Alec’s head whipped up in surprise. “…yes.”

With a snap, a portal came to life beside them and Magnus had Alec go in before he did. He stepped into his living room and observed Alec’s tense back for a second then snapped his fingers for some drinks. “Alexander.”

Alec pivoted slowly and accepted the drink with a low, “thank you.”

“Hmm…” Magnus dipped his pinkie in his glitter-y martini and swirled it around as he sat down on his couch. “Sit, Alexander, and let’s talk.” He waited for Alec to do so before he continued, “Do you have anything to say?”

Alec laughed self-deprecatingly. “For once in my life, I acted impulsively and you had to be there to witness it. I’m sorry you had to see it. And I just want you to know that’s not how I usually handle things.”

“I’m not mad, Alexander,” Magnus sucked his glitter-y pinkie and tilted his head. “But I’d appreciate it if you don’t beat up the people close to me – or any Downworlder for that matter – especially when they’re not fighting back.”

“I swear it won’t happen again.” Alec’s eyes blazed determinedly.

Magnus smiled briefly. “Was that the first time Isabelle was involved in something… unsavoury?” He tasted the word as it left his tongue and sipped some of his drink to wash the taste away.

“No,” Alec denied. “But it’s the first time she was unable to defend herself from one. …I know it’s not Raphael’s fault nor was it Simon’s really but I… I was furious and, though it doesn’t excuse me, he was there and Camille wasn’t. I’ll apologise to him tomorrow when we’ve both cooled off enough.”

Magnus nodded and took another sip of his drink.

“Have I…” Alec’s grip on the glass tightened. “Ruined things?”

Magnus licked his lips and settled back on his couch to trace his eyes on the lip Alec was nibbling. He put his drink down on the coffee table and stood up to grab the other’s fidgeting hands. “Not yet but know that you are walking on a very, very fine line.”

“I know,” Alec replied softly and stepped closer.

“So long as you do.” Magnus’ lips quirked up on one side as he slid his hands up Alec’s arms over the slope of broad shoulders and stopped to curve around a warm runed neck. “Have a good night, Alexander.”

Alec nodded curtly, face crestfallen, and moved to step back but paused before completing it.

“Yes?” Magnus slid his fingers along the collar of Alec’s leather jacket.

“Can I kiss you?”

Magnus smiled slowly, endeared, and leaned in close to brush their lips together. His eyes slid closed whilst a pleasant tingle warmed him up as Alec pressed forward and explored his mouth with gentle thoroughness that he knew could only be borne out of feelings too kind for his heart to bear without crying.

He felt weaker and more vulnerable than ever, felt as if he was flying, a mixture of intense exhilaration and fear that melded into a beautiful and unforgettable moment. His gasp was soft when they parted and he allowed himself to be held securely in Alec’s strong embrace without complaint, eyes still closed as he basked in the affectionate action.

  The mid-day sun greeted an exhausted Magnus with its warmth. He was reclined on his couch beside Ragnor and Catarina, all three of them sported annoyed expressions and held scotch on the rocks in their hands. They had spent half of the day searching for Iris to no avail. She was a slippery wench, always gone by the time they track her somewhere with a present of demons left behind.

They had given up after the third time, magic depleted, and retreated to the comforts of his home so they could recover and think of a new plan. So far, he had one and it involved more drinking which was always a plus in his opinion – though apparently not to his friends. “I’m telling you, she won’t be able to resist coming.”

“You’ve had a lot of questionable ideas in your life, Magnus,” Catarina started. “But this is the dumbest.”

Magnus turned her drink into oil in retaliation and heard her turn it back a snap later. “She has been thirsting over the items she gave me as payment centuries ago, always sniffing out for opportunities to steal them back. If this plan doesn’t work, we’ll just have to continue our wild goose chase.”

“Well, it isn’t like any of us have a better idea,” Ragnor sighed resignedly.

“Brilliant.” Magnus perked up and snatched his phone from the side table only to see a message already waiting for him. It was Alec. He ignored the strange fluttering feeling inside his chest and opened up his inbox and his lips downturned into a frown. “Alright, you two decorate this place and I’ll go close a demon portal.”

Not a minute later, he stepped out of his portal and was greeted by a beautiful view of the beach marred only by the loud, screeching flying demon that Alec was trying to kill with a – he did a double take – bow and arrow; it was scary how accurate his dreams could be sometimes.

He spotted the demon portal a few feet away from him and then squinted at the flying demon at Alec’s commendable efforts to kill it. They were far enough from him to close the portal without worry in case the flying demon wasn’t killed so he hurried over, summoned his magic with graceful hand twists and waved his arms from his back towards the portal.

His magic rushed out, called upon by him and the familiarity of the energy seeping out of the portal, whilst red magic flowed out of the darkness to connect with his own. He gripped the wild energy with his ironclad control and used his boosted magic to close the portal with purposeful waves of his arms.

Behind him, he could hear Alec shout his name in warning and he could feel the flying demon swooping closer to stop him. He tried to ignore the impending danger, intent on the shutting the portal as it was already getting smaller but the more desperate Alec cries became, the more distracted he was. His attention snapped when he heard the flying demon screech too close to him and he looked behind him to blast it back where it came from.

Red sparks exploded down prettily but his focus was back on the portal. There were tell-tale screeches of dying demons from Alec’s direction as he fell down on the smooth beach; it was smooth, like there had been no hole to begin with.  He soon found himself cocooned in a warm embrace once more and he didn’t bother denying himself the comfort.

Moments passed, both peaceful and restless, and when Magnus gathered enough energy to move without help, he placed a hand on Alec’s and faced the other. “What is it?” He asked softly.

“I should have been able to handle the demon alone.” Alec sighed sadly with a frown. “I’m better than this.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to prove that statement to me.”

Alec gave a hopeful smile. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Magnus assured and his eyes lit up as he remembered his plans for Iris. “Tonight, in fact. I’m hosting a party and you may invite some of your Shadowhunter friends.”

Alec looked taken-aback. “Why do you need Shadowhunter help for a party?”

“Apart from the fact that we should meet each other's’ respective friends,” Magnus raised a brow pointedly. “I have a rogue warlock to capture and this party will be just the thing to entice them to crawl out of their hole.”

“I’ll be there.” Alec confirmed then with a slight flush added, “We’ll all be there.”

“Don’t bring the entire Institute.” Magnus teased.

Alec smiled and kissed him. “I won’t.”

  Jazz music played soothingly from the record player and filled the loft with its classy tunes. Ragnor and Catarina were nursing their drinks and playing a game of chess like a boring old couple and Magnus was about to sleep from boredom. He nearly summoned up mini fireworks in joy when his wards alerted him to the incoming presence of his other guests.

His door swung open with a snap to reveal Alec with a raised fist to knock and the rest of the usual crew crowded behind. “Come in, come in.” He waved his hands to welcome them in and summoned for drinks to appear in their hands. They all yelped in varying volumes save for Alec and he smiled internally in amusement. “Make yourselves at home.”

“Will do.” Clary saluted and dragged Simon off.

Isabelle must have seen the questioning expression on Magnus’ face because she drew closer and whispered, “I had them kiss and make-up – just a saying, of course, since my brother will only kiss you.”

“Iz, what are you telling him?” Alec wrapped a hand around Magnus’ waist and squinted suspiciously.

Isabelle laughed and walked away with a cheeky wink.

“I was simply curious about Simon and you.” Magnus explained with a smile, endeared by how Alec’s eyes smouldered when they were narrowed. “Forget that though, you look gorgeous.” He smoothed a hand down the soft dark green sweater the other wore and tapped his finger approvingly on the leather belt holding up fitting slacks. “I do enjoy the sight of you in casual clothes and colour though black on black – especially leather – is appealing in its own right.”

“Thanks,” Alec choked out.

Magnus furrowed his brows slightly in concern. “Alexander, are you alright?”

“Yeah – yes, you just – uhm, wow.” Alec stuttered incoherently.

“Oh,” Magnus felt a light flush dust his cheeks as he finally noticed the way Alec was practically devouring him with bright, hot eyes. He had forgotten what it was like to be appreciated and not just respected for his position, influence and/or power. “Thank you, Alexander, that’s… sweet of you.”

“Yeah, uh…”

Magnus tried to suppress a grin. “Come,” He tugged them both round to where Ragnor and Catarina were having pleasant talks with the other Shadowhunters and Simon then dramatically presented Alec to his friends. “Alexander meet my friends, Ragnor and Catarina. Ragnor and Catarina, meet Alexander and… company who I’m sure have introduced themselves?”

“Of course,” Izzy lifted her head up and winked.

“I’ve finally found your substitute,” Ragnor tipped his drink towards Clary. “This lovely Shadowhunter has very good taste and knowledge in the arts.”

“I didn’t know you were looking for a substitute.” Magnus sniffed unhappily.

Ragnor’s eyes rolled. “I’ve been desperate for one. Ever since you became the leader of the New York Downworlders, all you talk about is your duties and responsibilities to them.”

“Well excuse me for being a dedicated leader.”

“His leadership is admirable,” Alec spoke up finally. “I wish to learn from him.”

Magnus kissed Alec on the cheek in thanks. “Hear that, Ragnor?”

“Yes,” Catarina interjected with a strange tone. “I hear that.”

At once they were all quiet, ears straining to hear what Catarina had been pertaining to.

Magnus could pinpoint when each of them heard it as they rushed to his bedroom in varying speeds. Alec was, of course, right beside him at a slighter faster speed, and he could see the hearing rune burning brightly on an uncovered arm. “Here,” He slammed his bedroom door open and stalked around with his cat eyes out in the open, sharp and menacing; his drawers had been looted through and he knew that his plan had been successful.

“THERE!” Clary shouted from behind.

Magnus whirled around and raised his hands in reflex for a blocking spell when he saw Iris throw out a desperate attack with her whole body. He gritted his teeth in annoyance upon seeing the Shadowhunters subdued and countered immediately with a fast attack. She hit the bookshelf in the living room and prepared another attack when white magic wrapped around her body as she struggled to get up from the floor.

A quick glance let him know that his friends weren’t inside his bedroom and he smiled proudly as he watched Catarina wield her magic with graceful flicks of the wrist. She was a force to be reckoned with, her ability to command her magic with utter precision made her a formidable enemy and he could see this realisation sink in with every desperate attack Iris tried to hurl whilst running away.

It was a futile attempt with Ragnor out there as well.

He left them to it and waved his arms around in elegant arcs to lift the spell from the Shadowhunters. They came to with shock and stopped abruptly in their steps upon seeing him in the spot Iris was before. “Who’s up for Hunter Moon’s Shadow World night?”

“Wait. How –,” Clary stared wide-eyed at a restrained Iris being manhandled into a portal by Ragnor.

Simon patted her. “Who cares?”                                                                                                                                           

“Exactly,” Isabelle agreed with a devious grin. “To Hunters Moon! But I’ll have you all drink a round of my special cocktail first!”

Clary and Simon both watched her leave the bedroom in horror.

“Don’t worry,” Alec spoke up and caught their attention with a smirk. “She’s not a disaster with drinks.”

“Oh thank g –,” Simon choked and Clary dragged him out with a roll of her eyes.

Alec levelled Magnus a look. “That was far too easy –,”

“The real battle was luring her here.” Magnus interrupted with a shrug.

“You didn’t need us at all.” Alec finished.

“Of course, I did.” Magnus grinned. “The night would be dreadful without your pretty face.”

  Hours later and their party was in full swing in the cosy back corner of Hunters Moon. Luke and Maia had joined in not long ago being friends with, surprisingly, all of them and they were all in varying states of inebriation. Their laughing faces were all flushed, hands cold with iced drinks, and body lax as they leaned over each other whilst chattering nonstop.

Magnus was squished into the loveseat next to the couches where everyone else were and had been swapping stories as well as fashion tips with Isabelle almost as soon as they arrived at the bar. It was also the perfect position with the best vantage point of Alec who had been sat on the couch arm talking to everyone with a cute, drunken grin.

That had been a while ago though and Alec had been missing since. He cast Isabelle an apologetic look when she leaned in close to poke him in the arm and extracted himself from the couch with a genuine smile. “I’m going to look for your brother,”

At once, Isabelle’s face morphed into a mischievous expression. “Have fun!”

Magnus shook his head and chuckled under his breath. His finger twitched as he unleashed his magic and he let it ripple around the vicinity until he felt it touch Alec’s energy by the alleyway outside. Odd. He edged behind the couches and opened the backdoor to see Alec pacing, shoulders tense. “Alexander?”

Alec stopped and took a visible breath.

“Okay…” Magnus muttered to himself and smoothed his fingers over his chin. He walked out into the alleyway more fully as Alec shifted to look at him and let the door slide away from his grasp. It closed with a soft click and the music became muted, leaving them in a type of silence. He looked at their surroundings and then smiled at Alec. “Everything okay?”

Alec’s eyes were soft in the dim lights and his white teeth glinted from behind parted lips. “Yeah… just thinking.”

Magnus moved forward until just one step separated them and crossed his arms as he tipped his chin up a little to let the lights glance off his eyes better. “About?”

“How I haven’t been able to impress you yet.” Alec said honestly with a small smile that hinted at slight self-deprecation. “I would like to.” He tilted his head briefly and his smile widened. “One day soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Magnus assured sincerely.

Alec’s smile turned pure, happy. “I’m counting on that.”

“Good,” Magnus leaned in and grinned into their kiss. It was sweet and chaste but it was significant to him because it was a seal to a silent promise to himself that he was going to truly try his hand at love once more and it would all start with – They parted and he smiled without restraint at Alec for once in the numerous times they had interacted during the past week. “Alexander?”

“Yeah?” Alec whispered back, looking positively giddy having no doubt noticed the change between them.

Magnus thought the other looked more beautiful than ever now, like a blooming flower given water to prosper. He laid his hand on Alec’s cheek and let their foreheads touch, their eyes warm as they looked into the windows of each other’s being. “Why don’t we start with that date you wanted?"

[punk-in-docs]

Sweet Thing, Chapter 1

AU, Dr. Strange x Loki x Original female character - Smutty ficlet Chapter number: Chapter 1 Author: Punk-in-docs                                                                         Notes/triggers: This smutty/flirty little fic was inspired by this post and this song  (Be warned, The video is super weird, but I love the song)The smut will come in a little later, but this will lead onto a threesome fic, no smut as of yet, folkies. Let me know what you think, I’m still iffy about this chapter, I don’t think it got off the ground, but I’ll see what the feedback says..

I was late – usually I was never late. I’m usually that odd breed of neatly organised, and freakishly over prepared for anything girl. But on the brand spanking new day on the job, filling in my father’s shoes, on the New York Presbyterian’s hospital board. I knew, somewhere, in this clinical, wretched maze of hallways, there sat a conference room, filled with middle-aged, balding, plump old men, no doubt all of whom were annoyed, and making quick assumptions about my tardiness, all of such, who were now awaiting my presence. I was paranoid now, most likely all those men were now remarking me to be a fickle employee, and devastatingly rude not to show up on time.

labyrinthine hallways, and I didn’t want to dare glance at my Armani watch, because I just knew , with gut dropping trepidation, that it read ten minutes more than I cared it too. Now I had my, true, directions, obtained by a terse temped nurse at the station desk, I strode as quickly as these pinching, sodding laboutins would let me. I felt like a sweating, panting, red-cheeked, mess.

My hair which she had spent ages pinning, now some curls straggled free. Begins to wonder if I should fret over whether or not I now had perspiration stains under my armpits. I’d no doubt that now the crisp, spotless, grey shift dress that was put on fresh, this morning, was now doomed to be wrinkled, and shabbily creased. My hands were full with all of the folders, which I’d combed through relentlessly in preparation for today, my jacket that I definitely would not be needing was folded over one arm. The soundtrack of my heels clacking along the lino, got faster and faster, and thankfully, I could make out the blessed boardroom I needed to be in, dead ahead. Conference room, number 73a.

I struggled on, opening the door with an incapacitated hand, which held all the folders, jerking open the door with a bump of my hip. As it swung inwards, and I clumsily crossed the threshold, I could feel the weight of all the inhabitants of the conference room, turn to me. My stomach coiled tight, like a tense spring. I had wanted to power through this first, initial meeting with notable vivacity, competence, and to bring an intelligent, new, voice to the table. But, sanding there, red-faced, sweaty, late and feeling no more competent than a giggling schoolgirl. My throat was a sticky, dry chasm, I swallowed, and then the man at the far end of the conference table, with white hair, and dark grey eyebrows, and a wrinkled face of annoyance and dismay, was the first to speak up.

“And you, must be?…” He asked. Flipping through paperwork in front of him. Not requiring her answer.  Lifting sheets leisurely. Like a teacher would revel in a misbehaving student’s fear. “Mr Knight’s replacement?” He asked me. As if I were standing on trial.

“I’m his daughter. Taking his much-lamented place on the trustees board, financial board, and the chair of hospital governors. I’m, Miss, Knight. I apologise for my tardiness, this morning, was…full of calamities…” I made clear. He seemed no more displeased than he had been ever since I entered the room. But he smiled, curtly, and gestured to the empty seat far down the table, opposite to his lofty end, in the seats of shame reserved for those who are abominably, rudely, late. Before I moved to take my seat, he spoke up some more.

“You’ll be pleased to hear, Miss Knight, that you are consequently not the only unpunctual person to arrive at our meeting. As it is, we are still waiting on one of our surgeons to join us… He too favours a, sluggish, pace…” He dug, eyeing me shrewdly. Inhospitably. His criticisms made my teeth clench in annoyance.

To avoid floundering all the more, I summoned the last remaining scraps of my dignity, and slid noiselessly into the seat. The woman a couple of seats down, gave me a smile that belied the annoyed energy in the rest of the room. She looked mousy, with messy, but beautiful ravens hair back in a typical, secretarial bun. She had on large, glasses that dwarfed her un-made up face, and a small, cute smile, that looked like she didn’t use it much. I flopped ungraciously - agitated at myself now - into my seat. Which crunched and creaked when it swivelled, and the drone of business continued on around me. I noticed she kept glancing over at me, as I flipped open the provided paperwork that summoned this meeting today. I tried to zone in on the projections, but then she whispered a quiet ‘psssst’ that quite matched her mousy persona, catching my attention.

“Hi. Um-I-I’m really sorry to interrupt…” She whispered. “but, um, I-I think you’re… well, you’re missing an earring.” She remarked, touching her left earlobe.

Startled, my hands instantly shot up to my ears, and found that whilst one nestled in my left lobe, the horrible feeling of nothing but flesh was in my right. I gave her a thankful smile, and slid my chair back, if only a little, tucking my knees under, and scanning around the speckled grey carpet. They were of huge sentimental value to me, my heart ached with the thought of losing them. I searched the floor, and as I was certainly positive that the business meeting was paying no attention to the rude, latecomer, I eased back into the seat, and continued the search, relieved when at last I saw the tiny silver glimmer of the back, and the face of the earring, laying, some distance apart, on the clean, insipid tones of the carpet.

Relieved, I rose from my seat as silently as was possible, trying not to incur the wrath of my prickly colleague, I quickly darted to the floor, on my knees, and reached my hand out to pluck the earring, and the back, taking them into my palm. On my hands and knees, on the first day of the job… I thought. Not dignified in the slightest. It was then, I noticed, that the door to the conference room had been opened, and someone had strode in, presumably the late, great surgeon they spoke of. I could see a pair of men’s shoes come into my view. Stood close. The shoes were polished, to an immaculate high shine. Bespoke, expensive. And here I was, on the floor, in front of said man, with my behind wiggling comically up in the air as my outstretched arm sought for the front of my earring. I blinked, craning my head up, through a stray curl of hair that folded over my eye, to look up at the, tall, man.

Up past runner’s legs, strong thighs framed by flawlessly cut, grey suit fabric, up past an impressive crotch that wouldn’t do me any favours by staring at the generous indication of what lay beyond his fly zipper. Up to a bright, clean, spotless white shirt, bordered either side of a strong torso, by a matching grey jacket. Up past broad shoulders, there comes the fine taper of his neck, and then, my eyes landed on his face, and, Oh holy hell.

I’d never really experienced the thunder-and-lightning-from-the-heavens kind of attraction before. But from one look at this, god of a man’s, handsome, elegant, fine face. My whole body clenched, and I could feel my clit tingling with naughty, shameful thoughts. He had a face that was all angles, sharp cheekbones, a fine blade of his nose, but his lips, were simply beautiful. In the most masculine way a man’s mouth could be beautiful. It took me a few seconds to recall that I’d seen his face, I realised, on the cover of numerous medical journals, all of which remarked him to be the prodigy of the surgical field. Surgeon Supreme. Dr. Stephen Strange. With eyes as sharp as the tools of his trade, which cut into you over the brim of his surgical mask. Today, those piercing eyes glinted down at me in mirth, raking over the curve of my spine, as I was still on all fours, practically prostrate at his feet. He wore a goatee, that would have looked horrid on any other man, his long, structured face made it look sinfully good. One hand was folded leisurely into his trouser pocket, forcing, straining tight the material against his crotch. Making my eyes instantly drawn to what lay beneath. My mouth went dry and I averted my gaze.

My face heated up, glowing red, as one side of his luscious lips tilted up, and he smirked down at me in my, more than compromising, and embarrassing position. My words melted in my mouth, and I fought, hard, to find a response, that simply refused to come. My mind kept crowing about the fact of the, very, sexual undertone of the position I was in, And if I was being perfectly honest, I noticed his eyes lingered for a second, or three, longer than was polite, on my ass. Still comically stuck up high in the air, for all to see.

“Late, as ever, Dr. Strange…” My prickly, snappy friend from before remarked dryly to the swaggering surgeon as he entered the room. Strange barely even flickered those narrow, feline eyes up in the man’s direction. He smiled, down at me, instead.

“I was on call, Mr. Johnson. Saving lives, I’m told from a reliable source, that you board members, quite like it when us surgeons do things like that.”  He comments sarcastically. Mr. Johnsons face twitched in infuriation. I made a move to get off my knees, bending one leg up, when I noticed he held down a hand to me, when I looked up at him once more, he raised an amused brow. “I don’t bite…. unless provoked…” He flirts, still smirking down at me. Slowly, I take his offered hand, and rise to my feet. My cheeks still scarlet red, and giving off enough heat to fry an egg on. I came to my feet, and felt my knees, rubbed raw, from being pressed into the rough bristles of the carpet. I thanked him as I joined the earring together, and slid it onto the table top.

“Mr Johnson, why was this delectable creature on her hands and knees? Or are we starting to play games on the freshmen trustees now?” He asks with a grin, which only seemed to annoy Johnson further.

“This is Miss Knight, she is replacing Vincent Knight on the board. Now, we’ve had far too many interruptions for one meeting, please, both of you, take a seat, and then maybe we can get on with actually helping to run this hospital.” The terse Mr. Johnson requested – somewhat curtly.

“With Pleasure. Don’t you know, I simply live for conferences like these…” Strange crooned, teasing, cupping my hand gently in his. He had merely flexed his fingers over mine, but it did something funny to my knees. I wet my lips, biting my bottom lip, and I felt his hand tighten, and his eyes flared, darker. Only for a second, like it was a cloud passing over on a sunny day. I shook his hand back, and dared myself to meet his eyes. Yet, still, somehow I felt both hot, and cold, and was very aware my thighs were trembling with the nerves. I chided myself internally to get a grip. But then he smiled some more, and I had to repeat the whole rotten cycle. Cursing my stupid, female reflexes that went all gooey in the presence of a handsome man. And he was egotistic, too, that was worse. I always had been, and always would be, a sucker for an arrogant guy.

“It’s… nice to meet you. Dr Strange. I’ve read a lot about your achievements. Some would call you a pioneer in the surgical field.” I complimented. Though I was safely positive his ego needed no further boosting. Though I could see my flattery had made his smile wider, all the same.

“…And I can’t say what the rest call me… But I’m assured it’s not in good spirit.” He jokes. I smile back. But sensing the mood of Mr. Johnson behind us turn all the sourer.

I quickly retook my seat, more than aware that my body found the man next to me, exactly three things. Obnoxious. Insolent. And Captivating. I especially noticed his body, shift the air, next to me. Sending a wave of his cologne to drift across in my direction. My gut clenched up all the more, and as I sat I squeezed my thighs together, tight.. What was it about a man’s fragrance that made it so deliciously enticing to women? I refocused in on what Johnson & co. were saying, feeling my knickers were almost sopping, by now. It was infuriating, getting so worked up about a man I barely knew.

Maybe it was because you haven’t had any action, sexual, loving, rough, dirty, or otherwise, for over three years, you imbecile… My Judas of a brain spits out. And now, the arrogant sod sat next to me, practically oozing testosterone, was giving my uterus some very, mixed,opinions about whether or not leaping into bed, with the most self-absorbed, vain Doctor, within an hour of starting at a new job, was truly the wisest decision for a woman to make. Yet again, when the sight of his hands, merely made my sex clench, leads me to believe that I will not be free of this niggling, instantaneous attraction anytime soonish.

I bit my lip, tapping my foot madly, fidgeting, wildly as my ears tuned into the boards conversation. But it was all for naught. As every time Strange moved, my brain came to a blinding, screeching halt. The click of my heel tapping the floor calms me, roots me back to earth as I try to ignore the handsome surgeon, not a metre away from me. Especially not when his suit arm, brushed against my elbow, I blinked, and my breath was shaky as it came out. I shut my eyes for a second, willing the thoughts in my head away.

He had nice hands, doctor’s hands. I wanted those hands. Sliding over my body, down over my hips, smoothing up past my waist, I wanted that man’s beautiful mouth on my neck, biting, sucking, marking me. I wanted to see him drop to his knees, and guide my thighs open to dive for my clit. Those talented, dexterous fingers sliding between my thighs to tease my-

“Miss Knight?” jolted me out of my frankly, pornographic, reverie. As a low, rumbling voice ushered into my ear. Buggering hell. It came from my left.

I turned to look at him, and those intense eyes bore into me. Deep. I cleared my throat, and tried my utmost best to look as if I hadn’t just been daydreaming so avidly about his hands stroking pleasure onto my nude body. I smiled, raising my eyebrows to politely enquire as to why he’d spoken my name. Lords, his voice alone could send a girl spiralling into a skull-shaking orgasm…

As it turns out, he didn’t want to speak. As I looked over, he slid a small scrap of paper in my direction under his hand. Retracting it after he did. I could see an expensive Mont blanc fountain pen, laid atop the polished table. Anchoring a yellow legal pad down. The top page had been torn off at the bottom. His fingers drummed slowly on the table, aching, impatient for me to read it. On the paper, read two words…

‘British huh?’ was written in an elegant, mannish scrawl. I smiled a little at his cheekiness. I really did fall for the conceited ones. I flipped over his reply, and pulled out my own parker ink-pen to write a reply. I scribbled it, and sent it back.

‘What gave me away?’ was my cheeky reply. He smiled when he read it.

‘Bored?’ He wrote.

‘Insanely so. Plus, I think Johnson would like to throw me out of this very conference room on my ass.’ I made clear.

‘Johnson’s a boar. In more ways than the one. Don’t you dare let him put you on that lovely ass.’ He added. I chastised myself for blushing. He then wrote something else after that.

‘You smell good, kid.’ He flirted.

I bashfully bit my bottom lip, and blushed, once again. I was sure, this time, it reached the tips of my ears, and my chest. I turned and caught his eyes, and his smouldering glance. His smile looks ultimately wicked.

‘Is the surgeon supreme flirting with me?’ I worked up the bravery to write. His answer thrilled me more than I would have thought.

‘Yes he is.’ He scribbles.

‘Not taken, are you kid? Dating Prince Harry or etc..’ He remarked cheekily.

I made an annoyed face, and let him see.

‘Shouldn’t we be paying attention to the meeting?’ I interrupted the writing-come-flirting session.

‘Absolutely not. Not when Johnsons banging on about new medical taxes.’

‘And this surgeon supreme would very much like to .1) Take that lovely ass out for a drink, and .2) Get your first name, kid… There is a third, but if I wrote it down, you’d blush completely all over.’ Which made me stifle a smile.

I thought for a long second, taking my time. I saw those fingers drummed again. Impatiently. It was his nervous tick. Or, his frustrated one. I took a while, writing my response to such an index.

‘.1) This lovely ass doesn’t mix business with pleasure. .2) I was told to never give my name to strangers, and .3) Is entirely your fault.’ I watched as he read this, His jaw clenched, and he shot me a playful look that told me he would not be taking ‘no’ for an answer. Atleast, not easily…

‘Sweet thing, Game. Set. Match.’

thoughts? I didn’t know who to tag, so I tagged everyone…If anyone isn’ t a fan of Strange here, I apologise… @wolfsmom1 @totallynotasmutblog @echantedbytwh @frenchfrostpudding @heavymist @damageditem

[becamitchellsbeats]

The Other Side Of You

So, I randomly got inspired to write some Mitchsen (AubreyXBeca) and this was the result. Its my first time writing the ship so lemme know what you think. Also on AO3

Aubrey Posen was normally the person that people dreaded spending time with, it wasn't in a mean way, she was just more intense than your average individual. People felt they couldn't relax around her, she was high maintenance, and pretty demanding at times. They'd say she couldn't let loose and it was safe to say that some of the Bellas dreaded their one on one vocal lessons, but especially dreaded one on one cardio.

But Beca Mitchell knew there was no way that, that was the only side to her. She was Chloe's best friend, after all, she knew there had to be more to her than there seemed, otherwise how could Chloe stand her?

The Bellas had recently attended Aubrey's camp to re-discover themselves and their sound, and although Beca discovered a lot of things over their stay, she realized she hadn't discovered anything new about Aubrey.

Which was something that she couldn't seem to get off of her mind.

And with that thought constantly circling her brain, Beca found herself standing outside of the entrance to the Lodge At Fallen Leaves. One minute she was in her room thinking about calling the blonde to arrange a visit, the next she discovered that her body had apparently gone onto auto-pilot and decided to take her there anyway because this was quite the diversion from her usual drive back home to the Bellas dorm.

"Well, I'm here now, I might as well say hi," she said to herself more so talking herself into it as she walked in through the gates, she was quickly greeted by a woman in a beige colored uniform. She had a red scarf like tie around her wrist which clearly seemed to symbolize some form of authority at the camp because she recalled Aubrey having one just like it tied around her neck.  

"Hi!" the woman greeted her enthusiastically "what Company are you with?" she asked glancing down at her clipboard as if ready to search for the name.

"Oh," Beca shook her head "I'm uh, not with a company, I'm actually specifically looking for Aubrey Posen? have you seen her around?" Beca said whilst glancing around half expecting to hear her barking orders in the background. If she was thankful for anything it was that her hellish days of partaking in Aubrey's 'death defying' activities were over.

"Oh,  you mean our camp's owner? do you have an appointment with her? she's very busy and-" "I know her." Beca interrupted her "I was here about a week back with the Barden Bellas so, yeah" the woman's face lit up "Oh, you were with the Bellas! if you'll follow me I'll take you to her location" the woman said whilst glancing down at a map that was displayed on her phone's app, it showed the location of each captain's walkie-talkies. Which was the workers' way of locating where each worker was around the camp.

As Beca followed the woman she took in the scenery around her. It dawned on her, that It was actually a pretty nice place when she was no longer being flung into the air by bear traps or almost dying, whilst singing songs that she felt didn't belong in a playlist let alone a set. 'I need to show her some good new music to' she noted to herself before bringing her attention back to the woman in front of her.

They had come to a stop outside a small building. It was the first time Beca had seen it so she had no clue what it was used for. "Aubrey should be in here, " the woman said with a smile, as she gestured towards the door.

Beca raised an eyebrow "Aren't you going to tell her I'm here?" the woman took a step back "Well, Aubrey doesn't like to be disturbed when indulging in her private activities. if she's expecting you, you should be fine, if not, good luck" the woman then patted Beca on the shoulder and walked away.

"Well that was odd" Beca said quietly to herself as she stared at the door of the building. She was slightly unnerved by the woman's behavior but she grabbed the door handle and entered anyway.

To her surprise she saw Aubrey playing on a violin, her eyes were closed, and her face was the most relaxed Beca had seen it in awhile. She watched on in awe as Aubrey moved elegantly, swaying her body along to the music that she was creating, the sunlight coming in from behind the blinds only highlighted her how at peace she looked.

She seemed so happy, so content. Beca found herself literally seeing Aubrey in a different light, it was weird, yet endearing, but also really weird. Beca would have never of thought it was the same uptight blonde that used to hate her back in first year.

She found herself staring, thankfully Aubrey had failed to notice, for she was still caught up in her melody, a melody that Beca didn't want to disturb. But at the same time she couldn't just stand there staring at her, so she cleared her throat,

"uh, hi" she said awkwardly.

Aubrey jumped, stringing the wrong note, it made a horrid sound as she looked up in an almost panicked like state, hastily searching the room with her eyes to find the source of the voice. Her eyes quickly focused on Beca, she speedily composed herself and tried to look unalarmed.

"What are-" Aubrey's voice came out higher than intended so she cleared her throat and tried again, this time in a lower voice "What are you doing here? did Chloe send you? shes always forgetting things when she visits" Aubrey said turning around as she placed her violin back into its case on the table in front of her.

Beca started to approach her "No, no, I actually uh, came here to see you" Aubrey ensured she kept her back to her "Oh. well," she wasn't sure why it made her feel happy, but it did, knowing that Beca couldn't see her face, Aubrey allowed a small smile to tug at her lips, she then turned on her heel, facing the small brunette with a more neutral expression.

"You shouldn't have," she said stepping forward "You were here a week ago, its not like anything drastic has happened in that time. I'm fine, the same as I was a week ago, so your drop in visit was a waste of gas Beca" she said walking passed her, refusing to admit that she was slightly moved that she had dropped in to see her again so soon. Especially since that even Chloe hadn't yet revisited.

"Well, I thought maybe you'd miss the company of everyone being around," Beca said shrugging, turning to face in the blonde's direction once more "we're a lively bunch, so when we're not around I guess it'd be noticeable and I thought maybe you'd feel lonely"

"well, i'm not lonely." Aubrey said sharply as she turned to face Beca again "So, is that all? I do have work to do. I'm very busy and I don't have time for pointless conversations"

"You know Aubrey, you're as bad as me. You just push people away with bluntness and sharp words rather than putting up walls." Aubrey was quick to jolt her head away from Beca's stare, refusing to comment on what she had said "I need to go, i'm really busy today"

"For someone who's so busy i'm surprised you have time to play the violin" Beca stated, she was determined to get her to talk about something.

"I like to make time for the things important to me"

"Well, then I guess I'll just have to become important to you, then you'll have all the time in the world for me right?" Beca smirked to which Aubrey frowned, but her face relaxed and she ended up smiling involuntarily, she tried to hide it by pretending to cough but she wasn't fooling anyone.

And as much as Beca wanted to comment on it, she knew it'd only make Aubrey more conscious so she changed the subject once more "you sound pretty awesome on the violin by the way, I didn't know you could play any instruments and I certainly never thought you were capable of looking peaceful"

"Well, I guess you don't know much about me. I'm a private person after all" Aubrey said shrugging "Anyway, why are you still here?" she said trying to change the subject away from herself. She was beginning to feel she was entertaining this conversation for far too long.

Beca shrugged then smiled "I'm here to get to know everything about you"

Aubrey huffed as she started walking for the doors again "You're wasting your time, and mine, you'll only get in the way" Beca did a half run after her "I think you'll find I can be quite helpful. How about I help you run the camp today?"

"Not happening."

Aubrey was halted to a stop as Beca cut in front of her, forcing her to pay attention to her "Okay, I could be wrong, and feel free to correct me. But I don't think you truly hate having me here, I think part of you likes it" she said whilst folding her arms behind her head and glancing up with a slight smirk.

Aubrey just glanced over Beca's shoulder eyeing the door "we're going to be late" she said as she walked passed Beca and headed out of the doors.

"Did, you just say we're?" she said as she hurried out the doors after the blonde.

Aubrey and Beca had arrived at the meeting place, and Aubrey wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug expression off of her face. "Gloat in your small victory whilst you can Beca, because it'll be short lived.  Signing yourself up to work alongside me was a stupid move. If you think my Bella training was tough then you're going to hate leading alongside me"

"Gloat in your small victory whilst you can Beca because it'll be short lived. Signing yourself up to work alongside me was a stupid move. If you think my Bella training was tough then you're going to hate leading alongside me"

Beca raised an eyebrow, as she furrowed her brow with a confused look "Why would I hate it? we just bark orders and secretly enjoy the suffering of the unfortunate employees who got sent here right?"

"Wrong!" Aubrey barked.

"We work as a team," she said in a prideful voice "even as leaders we are a part of the team. If anything, we have to set examples, we have to show them how everything is done. We will be participating in all activities and you" Aubrey said with a smirk as she flicked her wrist up and down pointing at the brunette "will be demonstrating and joining in"

Beca felt a sense of dread come over her "w-wait, I have to do it TWICE" Aubrey smirked as she flicked her hair, looking smug "Precisely, I did say that your gloating would be short lived" Aubrey then directed her attention to the group of six approaching them.

"Today" she said clasping her hands together "You will be instructed by both me and my uh," she stared at Beca for a moment unsure of what to call her "colleague here Beca" Aubrey then directed the groups attention towards the lake that had a large six seater canoe boat lined up along with another two seater one, and a few single ones that were stored there.

"You are to work as a team and make your way across this lake in your canoe. Remember, this is a Team building exercise, not a race. You will not be racing the two of us"

A man snickered "I'm sorry but there is only two of you. Regardless there is no way you'd beat six of us" Aubrey folded her arms "Oh really? I do like a challenge sir" her eyes then trailed to Beca who was trying to subtlety deter her from challenging them. No matter how Beca looked at it, she knew they weren't beating a team of six people.

"Allow me to finish my explanation," Aubrey said getting back to the purpose of the exercise "The canoes has been altered if you don't row in synch its more likely to topple over, the aim of the exercise is for you to stay dry. You will need to be patient with one another and make up for each others strength's and weakness's, your arms will tire quickly, its a big lake, meaning one of your team member's arms are surely to give out. How will you compensate for that?"

The group then murmured amongst themselves as Aubrey continued.

"Me and my colleague will first demonstrate, and once you have met the initial purpose of the exercise, if you still want to race us, then me and my colleague will happily take you on" Aubrey said as she looked at Beca with a smug expression as she made her way to one of the two-person canoes.

Beca sighed "Well, if you're up for getting wet, then, by all means, force me to join in with this activity" she said as she walked over. Aubrey rolled her eyes not sure whether she was flirting or generally talking about the activity.  

Aubrey then dropped her voice to a whisper "Right now, for the first time maybe ever, people are looking up to you Beca. This is a big deal"

"ouch, that was a little harsh" Beca responded with a mumble.

Aubrey smiled slightly "what? you're small, people don't have to look up to you often," she said with a soft laugh "what else did you think I meant?" Beca then shot her a playful look as she climbed into the canoe and seated herself in the second slot.  

"You actually got me" Beca admitted, Aubrey lifted her head looking accomplished "My point still stands though, they're looking up to us. We can't fail the exercise" Aubrey said sounding more stern, Beca sighed as she looked at the lake ahead of them.

"Dude, this lake is huge! do we seriously have to do the whole thing?" she whined.

"I would have done the whole thing with or without you, it was you who insisted on helping and now it is you, who is going to complete this exercise with me Beca."

Beca sighed "Just don't blame me when my arms inevitably give out and we go tumbling over" Aubrey pushed the canoe into the water and hopped in. "Don't worry, I won't let you fall so easily" she said as she grabbed her paddle "I don't fancy making a fool of myself. We Posens pride ourselves in our work, failure isn't an option"

"No pressure..." Beca mumbled as she grabbed her paddle.

"We'll need to paddle in synch, so time your strokes with my whistle, now one, two, three"

Aubrey then blew her whistle and the duo moved their paddles in synch, things were going well, at first, the pair were moving surprisingly in synch, but around 7 minutes in and Beca's arms were beginning to tremble.

"For serious Beca! its only been 420 seconds"

"yikes, it makes it sound pathetic when you put it like that. Minutes only please"

Aubrey sighed "its been seven minutes. C'mon, even Fat Amy managed the length of this lake on her own!"

"Yeah, but I'd argue that Fat Amy has more arm strength than me, and its hardly a fair comparison, given that she rowed across it on a mission. She was passionate! and more importantly willing choose to cross it! I am doing this kinda willingly but kinda against my will, and let's be real, Fat Amy likes to be big, bold and dramatic. I however like listening to music, on a sofa, far away from water using my arms for the bare minimum of things"

Aubrey laughed, "Whats so funny?" Beca asked.

"Well, whilst you were complaining another two minutes passed, you can do it when you put your mind to it Beca, you were moving in synch without following the sound of my whistle. I'm impressed."

But Aubrey spoke too soon, for she now made Beca conscious of the fact that she was moving in synch which just made her get all muddled up "wait what?" Beca stroked her paddle out of time and the canoe went to tip over "Seriously!" Aubrey reached over and grabbed Beca's arms, she positioned her arms into a position that steadied the canoe again, she then let out a relieved sigh as she turned her head back towards the group.

"Phew, that would have been disastrous, we only had a minute to go" she said pointing out how close the shore was.

"Now on my whistle--" Aubrey lifted the whistle up from around her neck and prepared to blow, when she felt her hand get pulled away. "Its okay, I can do it. I can be in synch with you, let's just finish it" Beca said with a smile. Aubrey then let the whistle fall back against her chest, she went to smile but frowned instead "don't mess this up Beca." the two then began rowing again and before long they were finally on the shore.

As much as Beca wasn't a fan of these team building exercises, she had to admit that she enjoyed this one, it was working, she felt closer to Aubrey.

As the two climbed out of the canoe Aubrey raised her hand for a high five "Nice job!"  she said enthusiastically. Upon realizing she had raised her hand she went to lower it, but Beca reached up and slapped her palm against it. The two then smiled at one another, before awkwardly glancing away.

Beca watched Aubrey in the distance as she signaled over at the group to begin the exercise. As she reflected on their team work she felt confident that by the end of her visit that Aubrey would be interested in giving her, her time of day.

'I'll see the other side to you, Aubrey.'

- 

So this was just a snippet. If you’re interested/liked it lemme know, I have more written already so I'm good to post more :).