#shadowhunterschallenges

[enkelimagnus]

Day 1 of @shadowhunterschallenges May RarePair Challenge: 

Jace/Simon/Raphael

I made some moodboards, one for RSJ, and then for the inner dynamics, Saphael, Japhael and Jimon.

[shadowhunterschallenges]

DAY ONE!

RJS

https://shadowhunterschallenges.tumblr.com/post/616265345723957248/

[tobythewise]

Don’t Sniff Pretty Things

Written for @shadowhunterschallenges for Meliorn/Jace. Warnings for Sex Pollen

“Jace,” Meliorn murmurs, making Jace pause. “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.”

Jace lets out a huff before putting his face even closer to the pretty, bright blue flower. He takes a deep smell only to sneeze. His nose burns as the pollen gets inhaled. When Jace turns around, Meliorn is pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. It makes Jace smile. 

“It’s pretty. And it smells good. Well, as long as you don’t get the pollen up your nose.”

Meliorn puts his hand down. “Do you have any idea what that flower is or what it does?”

Jace shakes his head, fanning his hand in front of his face. His cheeks flush and sweat begins to bead at his brow. Jace shrugs as he pulls his jacket off. “I just thought it was pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty but you don’t see me sniffing you.” 

Heat pools in Jace’s belly at the comment and his mind is rapidly growing foggy. His cock is rock hard, aching as it throbs. “Jesus,” he hisses, leaning against a nearby tree and wiping his brow. “What the fuck was that?”

“In layman's terms? That’s sex pollon.”

Jace freezes, his eyes going wide. His gaze darts between Meliorn and the flower, over and over, hoping the Seelie is wrong. But he’s not. Now that Jace thinks about it, he has learned about this flower. He grows, thinking about the night he’s about to experience. 

“Dealing with this sort of thing alone can be quite troublesome,” Meliorn adds with a smirk. 

“Fuck,” Jace hisses under his breath. He looks at Meliorn, standing tall in his Seelie armor. Finally, Jace grabs Meliorn by the front of his armor, his heart racing. “Fuck it. Take me back to your tent and fuck me under the stars.”

Meliorn’s face breaks out into a smile. “Gladly.”

[dark-alice-lilith]

Title: Trust

Pairing: Underhill/Lorenzo

Rating: T

Summary: “I feel safe around you,” Lorenzo confessed.

A/N: For @shadowhunterschallenges day 4 of their Rare, Obscure and Crack ship challenge.

[polarnacht1]

Title: Nothing stays forever

Summary:

"Jace watched Alec with a small smirk on his face. His brother held a seraph blade to Meliorn’s throat, his eyes glazed over with rage. Jace had to admit, he liked Alec's ruthless side. Alec had played by the rules for far too long, it was time that changed. He had always wondered what it would take to make him snap."

Warning: canonical character death

Pairing: Jace/Meliorn

@thehuntersmoondiscord

[unstrrdy]

Eat [Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago/Jace Wayland]

Part 1 of the Eat, Pray, Love [Simon/Raphael/Jace] series  for the Shadowhunters Challenges - Rare Pairs (AO3 collection) by @shadowhunterschallenges

Established Relationship, Vampire! Simon TRIGGER WARNING FOR VOMITING

Simon takes care of Jace a lot by feeding him. He likes eating too, just for the semblance of normalcy. 

Simon knew it was all due to Jace’s Shadowhunter lifestyle that he didn’t react to changes in time. He didn’t tire at night, he didn’t eat at society’s established meal times. It most likely began when he was still young and training, and it was terribly concerning.

It was three in the morning. At least Jace knew the Hotel was still closer than the Institute and trusted his lovers to be there for him. Raphael was still quite busy in his office, but he’ll come out soon. Simon got started caring for their Shadowhunter, guiding Jace to sit in front of the small circular table in Raphael’s room. 

Simon helped Jace shrug some layers off and set the weapons on top of a dresser they’d recently installed for Simon and Jace’s belongings to properly fit in the room. 

“I’ll bring you food. You’ll eat, then shower, and then sleep ‘til noon.” Simon smiled lightly, the worried furrow on his forehead still visible.

Jace silently looked up at Simon before nodding and letting the man leave his side.

Jace played with the seams of his pants and allowed a tired smile to settle as Simon prepared plates for both of them. 

Simon hummed as he worked, calmer knowing both his lovers were in the Hotel and safe. He’ll pull Raph from work later after he and Jace had eaten. The other man didn’t bother to consume food.

Jace grasped Simon’s hand as soon as the man deposited the plate of egg omelette and whole grain toast in front of him. “Thank you.”

Simon stared at Jace in wonder and slowly tucked the hand away to let him eat. Simon ran a comforting hand through Jace’s hair before sitting beside him and eating too.

“Everything went okay?” Simon asked, coating the food evenly with blood.

Jace shrugged, twirling the fork like he does with his stele. “Everything went okay.” Everyone went home alive. We did what we had to. I’m home.

Jace’s shoulders slowly but visibly started to droop. 

Simon held Jace’s arm. “You up for that shower now?” 

Jace nodded and stood up after finishing the omelette. “Thank you for looking out for me, Si.”

Simon leaned into the kiss Jace pressed into his hair. He stared at the toast Jace had left on the plate.

 Simon got up from the bed. He looked down at the two still wrapped in each other and fixed the blanket on top of them. 

He took his time dressing up, watching Jace settle deeper into Raphael’s arms. He smiled and pocketed his phone which displayed 7:13, glad the two found time for rest. It had only been two hours, though. He decided they needed more; he scribbled out 4 groceries <3 good morning on the small mirror near the dresser  with a dry erase marker then locked the door behind himself.

 Simon shut the bedroom door and hastily dropped the bags of food on the table before running to the bathroom. He gagged on the result of a liter of blood on top of food his body couldn’t digest. 

It barely hurt to throw up, just uncomfortable to make the intruding objects rise and leave his throat. The food came out the way he’d chewed it, as if he’d just placed it in his mouth for a second then spit it out.

It made him feel like a robot, operating the way his programming insists, using a vessel to look familiar despite being hollow. 

Simon glared at the toilet bowl, slammed the cover on the seat, and flushed it. He locked the bathroom door and washed his face and hands. He sat on the toilet cover while wiping off with a towel. He just sat there a while. 

He’d much rather pretend, but he knew of the eternity he’d have to deal with which would go smoothly if he got over this already.

 Jace and Raphael were startled from their positions on the bed, Raphael raising his head from Jace’s lap. They watched Simon enter the bathroom and stay there. They shared a look. 

Raphael turned his phone off, leaving it on the bed, and squeezed Jace’s hand before approaching the bathroom door. 

Jace placed the book he’d been reading on the nightstand, got up similarly and proceeded to pull open the first layer of the dresser and the fridge to put away the groceries.

 A knock came from the other side of the door. Simon shut his eyes a while before opening the door to Raphael’s familiar hands guiding him to a hug.

Raphael pulled back to cradle Simon’s face gently. “Alec called me to insist the two of you stay home today. Missions and patrol were delegated already.”

Simon nodded and sighed. “Hi, Rapha.”

“Hello.”

Simon looked over Raphael to see Jace putting the groceries away. Raphael dropped his hands and Simon walked up to Jace to hug him from behind.

Jace grunted and twisted in Simon’s arms to hug him properly. “Morning.”

Raphael shut the dresser and fridge then moved his lovers back to bed.

Jace ran his fingers through Simon’s hair, his other arm still wound around the man. “So Raph and I went through that list of movies you sent us the other day.”

“Hm?”

“Yeah. We woke up incomplete, then Raph got the call from Alec, then we went through the list.”

Raphael settled on Simon’s other side. “We picked some that didn’t sound too terrible. We’ll go through a couple today, hm?”

“Yeah, okay.”

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[cuntpuntcowboy]

🏹 — beautiful pain #shadowhunterschallenge day 1; favorite male — helena

[farhanabacchus247-blog]

Day One ➳ Favourite Male ↳ Alec Lightwood 🏹 #shadowhunterschallenge

[enkelimagnus]

Day 4 of @shadowhunterschallenges RarePair Challenge

ReyHill

[tobythewise]

Better Together

Written for the @shadowhunterschallenges Today’s theme is RJS (This is for @thelightofthebane <3 Thanks for helping me come up with this idea)

Jace looks out the window to his right, watching as people stroll by, oblivious to the weird situation he’s found himself in. 

“Jace,” Raphael says gently, pulling Jace back to the present. Jace flushes, looking down at his coffee cup and wrapping his fingers around it. 

“Sorry,” Jace murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m bad at this. With Simon it felt easy, you know?” Raphael makes a noise of agreement and Jace feels confident enough to keep going, looking up and meeting Raphael’s eyes. “He just smells so right. And it’s easy to court him. I’m not sure if it’s because you and I are both alphas or if it’s just me being freaked out about the thought of having two mates but this feels harder.”

Raphael watches him a moment and Jace has to look away, suddenly feeling too seen. His hands tighten around the cup in frustration. 

When he started courting Simon, he never thought it would put him in this position. He fell so fucking hard and so fast, and somehow, so did Raphael and Simon at the same time. Simon’s been so stressed out, so devastated because he said they both smell like the best thing he’s ever scented. He couldn’t pick between the two alphas. And therefore, he stopped accepting gifts from both of them, not wanting to hurt them further. 

It was Raphael who came up with the solution. Jace and Raphael would go on dates and get to know each other and see if they were compatible. Then they’d both get to be with Simon. Triads aren’t unheard of. This was fine. 

“I understand how you feel,” Raphael finally says, leaning back in the booth. “May I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“How do I smell to you? Because if I don’t smell right, I have a feeling we’re wasting our time.”

Jace instinctively takes in a long sniff, scenting the air. The corner of his lip curves up into a soft smile. “Uh, that’s not really a problem,” Jace confesses. “You smell like spicy chocolate. It’s really nice.”

“Oh,” Raphael gets out, the tops of his cheeks brightening just slightly. “For the record, you smell nice to me as well.”

Jace nods his head, his eyes glued to his coffee as the cream on top slowly melts into the rest of it. “I feel like if you were an omega I’d be able to wine and dine you without overthinking it.”

Raphael rolls his eyes. “Like I would let you do the woo’ing. Obviously I’ll be the one wining and dining.”

Jace huffs in amusement. His chest feels a little lighter, things coming a little easier. The banter flows back and forth. Jace gets why Simon loves Raphael and if he’s being honest with himself, he could very easily see himself falling too. Raphael is handsome and smells good and his no nonsense attitude is refreshing and he’s got such a dry sense of humor that leaves Jace’s side aching from laughing. 

When Simon shows up to the coffee shop looking apprehensive, Jace is the one to stand up and reassure him. He kisses Simon’s cheek before guiding him to sit down beside Raphael. Raphael leans over, kissing Simon’s other cheek before wrapping his arm around Simon’s shoulder. 

At one point, seeing them together had left Jace’s chest aching with jealousy. But now that they’re all on the same page, it leaves him feeling warm. His inner alpha purrs that these two are his. Both of them. Together. 

“So you worked something out?” Simon asks nervously. 

Jace reaches his hand out and Raphael takes it halfway. “Yeah,” Jace says with a smile. “This is gonna work out just fine.”

[enkelimagnus]

Please, Make It Go Away (Jeliorn)

Jace/Meliorn, Rated M, 1.4k words, arguably Canon Compliant

Implied Drunk Sex (Dubious Consent there because one’s drunk, one’s sober)

Jace struggles to deal with Clary's loss, and finds himself drinking too much. Drunken steps lead him somewhere he didn't know he needed.

Written for @shadowhunterschallenges, Day 3 of the RarePair Challenge: Jeliorn

Read On AO3

Jace knocked back the end of his whiskey glass. It hit the bar with an empty clink. He waved around at the bartender for another. He didn’t know how many he’d drank anymore.

Nothing made sense. The hole in his heart was too big, and trying to fill it with alcohol didn’t work. His heart was pierced, like the Danaids’ barrel, and he felt useless in trying to fill it back up.

It was Clary, who could fill his heart properly. And she wasn’t there anymore. All he had, was alcohol and the bartender that kept pouring him drinks despite the fact that he shouldn’t be drinking any more.

He didn’t remember the name of this bar, he just thought that the bartender was nice enough to not seem to care about the fact he wouldn’t be able to walk right when he stood back up. His glass was filled again and he slid another bill over the counter. Nothing really mattered and he wanted to get so wasted that he didn’t remember Clary’s absence.

It would hurt so much tomorrow morning, when he would have to wake up for patrol. Good.

He started drinking the rough, amber liquid greedily, not caring very much what he looked like. There was a perimeter of empty chairs around him, where no one had sat in a long time. He guessed that, with the leather jacket and the greasy hair, the dark circles and the breath that smelled too much like alcohol, he didn’t make a very attractive picture.

Fuck. What would Clary think of him if she saw him like this?

He shoved himself off of the stool and almost tumbled to the floor. His vision was so blurry that he barely could see the difference between the brown-painted concrete floor and the wooden counter of the bar.

“Want me to call you a cab, dude?” The bartender called.

Jace replied something he wished resembled “No, it’s fine, I’m just going to walk.”

He stumbled out of the bar through the door. The bell of it chimed distantly and he started walking down the sidewalk. He didn’t know where exactly he was going. He hoped his feet knew the way to the Institute, to his bed.

New York wasn’t really that pretty at night. It had garbage cans overflowing with the day’s trash, the sour smell of urine against the pavement. It had poor, desperate people, masses huddled against walls and inside construction scaffolding, sleeping there. You could never see the stars in the sky, because the lights of the city, of the big squares and the giant screens of adds lit up the sky too brightly to see anything.

Jace walked down the sidewalk and the world around him dissolved into a smudge that should have been darker than it actually was. Many places were still open, actually. Too many.

It was a bit cold but he didn’t do anything to keep himself warm. He just walked, and prayed that his boots would hit the steps of the Institute. His boots pressed into grass instead. He blinked. The vapors of alcohol kept him from seeing any real structure, but he knew there was grass.

He was probably on the lawn in front of the Institute. He sighed softly. Finally he was home. Finally he could sleep the alcohol away, disappear into dark night, and wake up maybe slightly more rested than he usually would.

He wished he could disappear inside the void of sleep and never come back, some days. Most days.

His fingers bumped against a tree, the bark rough against his fingertips and he stopped for a second. He wanted to puke. The world swam around him, and the lights blurring even more into threads of light instead of steady singular points.

Time stopped. His heart beat too loud, too slow. He tasted cheap whiskey on his lips, and sweat too.

He shoved himself onwards, always onwards.

Grass changed into dirt under his feet. That was strange. There was concrete and stone around the Institute, no dirt. He blinked again. It didn’t really help.

There were no buildings around him anymore. There was no one else, either, not even a homeless person. He was inside of a park, or some woods, and he was alone. He checked his phone. It slipped out of his hand, because it could register in his mind that he didn’t have any network.

His knees buckled. He hit the ground hard, wincing, the pain radiating up and down his legs from his kneecaps. The screen of his phone looked shattered, but he didn’t know if he could trust his eyes right now.

Jace sat there, on his knees. He didn’t know how to think.

“I thought I’d heard something.”

The voice was soft and sharp at the same time. Deep, and familiar. Jace tried to look up but his head pounded and swam and he felt pulled down by the alcohol in his veins. He couldn’t deal with this anymore.

“Please make it go away.” A second voice said, blurry and hoarse, words smushed together, barely recognizable. He frowned. Was that his voice?

A person walked up to him. He saw feet first, bare on the ground, skin brown and beautiful. There were small leaves on the tip of the toes. No. That wasn’t right. Nailpolish?

The person crouched down, foreign fingers gently grabbing Jace’s chin to lift it up. He let himself be moved, eyes struggling to see who the person was. Long, wavy black hair that wrapped around a golden brown man with dark eyes and scars like the strong, gnarled roots of big trees like the ones in Brocelind Forest. Was he in Brocelind Forest?

“Oh, Shadowhunter,” the man said, so softly. “I’ve never seen a man in such a pitiful state.”

Meliorn. The voice was so familiar that Jace wanted to cry. Seelie court.

Jace didn’t realize he’d moved until his hands were clutching the man’s tunic, hard. “Please.” He didn’t know what he was asking. “Please make it go away.”

Meliorn didn’t seem to care about how Jace’s grip was threatening to tear apart his clothing. He grabbed him, pulled him to his feet firmly and Jace felt like he was falling.

He was dragged away from the phone that was still on the ground, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered right now. His head was still swimming, swimming in ginger and musk and deep, deep earth. Swimming as his feet hit a ground covered in carpets and fabrics.

“Please,” Jace whispered again, when Meliorn stopped walking. “Please, please, please.”

Meliorn watched him, he could see that, feel that, electrifying his bones. Fingers reached to pull off his jacket. “I’m going to take care of you now,” Meliorn whispered. “Oh, poor young Shadowhunter.”

Jace shook his head, lunging forward, grabbing at the man again with renewed strength. Clumsily, his lips hit the man’s cheek, the corner of Meliorn’s mouth, searched for him. Searched for a kiss.

A force moved Jace’s body without him thinking, an awkward, muted and clumsy assault, and Meliorn chuckled, surprised. He kissed him back, hard, ardent, shoving against his mouth. It had nothing of the pretty elegant way Jace had seen him kiss before. His mind stopped working. Jace breathed in when Meliorn pulled back, deep, clean, and the biggest breath he’d taken in what seemed like years, but was probably just days.

Meliorn looked at him, a sickening fondness in his gaze. “I’m not one to sleep with inebriated people, Shadowhunter-”

“No,” Jace slurred. “Jace. Not Shadowhunter. Jace.”

Meliorn smiled at him, the first smile Jace had ever actually seen on his face. It was blinding, and it was so strange that Jace almost took a step backwards. Meliorn stopped him. A hand in greasy hair that should have been washed days ago, he pulled Jace to him.

“I’m going to make an exception, Jace,” he whispered. “You sound so desperate… And I know you need me.”

Jace nodded, eyelids half closed. Meliorn was so close, not kissing him yet, but just hovering there. He could feel his breath against his lips. “Please,” he whispered again, and he hated and loved how needy he sounded. “Please, make it go away.”

Meliorn’s smile turned a little too sweet, almost pitying, and Jace’s hands pushed him back for that. Meliorn didn’t let him. He pulled him even closer, until Jace couldn’t feel anything but relief and Meliorn’s body against him, lithe, so different from what Jace was used to, in both training and sex.

“I’ve never…” Jace mumbled, gesturing clumsily at Meliorn.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Jace let go.

[enkelimagnus]

Day 9 of @shadowhunterschallenges‘ RarePair Challenge: Alec/Jonathan

I really don’t ship this, but making a moodboard was fun... *shrug*

[enkelimagnus]

10 AM - Paris Time (Marcian)

Luke/Mary, Rated G, 1k words, Post Canon

Luke is on mission in Paris, and Maryse enjoys life there, sitting at the terrace of a café.

Written for @shadowhunterschallenges, Day 5 of the RarePair Challenge: Marcian

Read On AO3

The café stood at the corner of a little square, onto one of the busiest and beautifulest avenues of Paris. The chair seats were made of braided plastic, bright, shiny white, with wooden frames supporting them. They were more comfortable than they originally appeared.

The waiters of the café had not yet pulled the shades to protect the row of seats from the sun, so Maryse enjoyed it fully. It was around 10 in the morning, and it was her 30th day in Paris.

The coffee was stronger than she was used to, and she’d learned that the type she preferred was called café double, and not americano. Ordering americanos in cafés got you strange looks, and a quite disgusting drink.

She was reading a book, in French, of course, working on her old French skills that had been forgotten during the last decades spent in the New York Institute. It was only the end of her first month here, and they would stay for as long as Luke was needed in the Paris Institute. And for now, it seemed like Alec had asked him to stay at least a trimester.

Maryse had her own things to do. She had people to see, she needed to visit a couple of shops held by demons and warlocks alike. The first one had been Mirek’s old shop, that had been taken over by a new one. She’d introduced herself and offered some help with possible translations. That was her job now.

She had those business cards, written with Maryse Lightwood, Antiques Dealer & Shadow World Translator. They seemed a bit strange some days. Like they didn’t really belong to her. But yet, here she was. That was her life now, she collected things, helped translate records and worked on decoding Circle code that seemed to permeate the life of many Downworlder  Antiques Dealers.

Some days she felt terrible about those, about the fact that Circle members had systematically taken from the Downworld, systematically locked away from them. It was their knowledge, their books, their art and tools, but the Circle had taken it and locked it away behind impenetrable code. And Maryse was trying to undo it.

Those were the days where she wanted to apologize to everyone. But apologies didn’t help. She didn’t want to seem like she was asking for pity for this, because she wasn’t. She just wanted to fix what she’d been responsible for, somewhat.

The sun shifted a little and she pulled down her sunglasses on her nose. Over the cream stone of the nearby building, in between old small houses and old municipal buildings, the sun was playing hide and seek. And her coffee was getting cold.

Cold coffee was good, but she liked dunking her croissant in hot one. Dark and delicious and so comforting, with the buttery flackiness of the croissant. Oh, how she could get used to this. To this life, to reading cheap detective stories in French at a café terrasse, waiting for her boyfriend to come back from an early morning check-in at the Institute.

Just as she started thinking about him, she saw him part the crowd of Parisians walking onto the street. He was coming from the Paris Institute, and he was walking, as always. He liked the subway enough but he preferred walking from the Institute to their favorite café, L’Etincelle.

He looked great, his beard grown back now. People turned as he walked, a tall beautiful Black man with a leather jacket and dark eyes fixed on hers. Maryse blushed and went back to pretending that she wasn’t seeing him. Behind her sunglasses, she stole glances at him to see where he was, which way he was coming.

“Excusez moi, mademoiselle,” Luke said, his accent strong under the French words.

Maryse turned to him as he stopped in front of her table. “Qu’y-a-t-il, monsieur?”

She couldn’t help the grin tugging at her lips as he looked at her, leaning a little closer. “I saw you from across the street, and you looked so beautiful that I couldn’t help but come and ask for a drink with you.”

Maryse chuckled. “How about coffee? Right now?” She replied.

“Merci beaucoup,” Luke slid into the chair by her side.

Maryse turned to him, pulling him closer and kissing him softly on the lips. Luke was smiling against her mouth, reaching to hold her as well. Maryse felt like she was floating. Like every time that Luke kissed her like this, like she was precious and good and loved.

She moved back after a moment. French people didn’t seem to care about random French kissing in the streets, but she always felt a little awkward.

“How was your morning?” She asked, as the waiter brought him his usual, coffee and croissant. The waiter had stopped ignoring their existence about a week ago, and that was for the better. Parisians were so difficult.

“Good, good. The changes I’ve been asked to oversee are doing great,” he smiled. “I probably have the rest of the day free, except for a meeting tonight, at around 8. It’ll probably involve a lot of alcohol.”

Maryse laughed. “Do you think I can be invited? Loud drunk French people are my favorites.”

He smiled. “I don’t think anyone would dare to call me off if I bring the Inquisitor’s mother to the party.”

Maryse shook her head. “Ugh. How about you just bring your girlfriend, huh?” She asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

Luke pressed a kiss to her cheek.

They settled back onto the chairs and ate their snack, chuckling and looking at the people who were walking by them.

Maryse looked at him from the corner of her eyes as he closed his eyes and let the sun brush his face. She’d never thought she’d had this. A life outside of the Clave, a life with Luke, and a life… doing something she actually loved doing.

And now she was in Paris, and it was perfect, and she felt young again. She felt like her life had gone much better than it actually had, and she wouldn’t want to exchange this moment for anything else in the world.

[enkelimagnus]

Power In Her Hands (Melizzy)

Izzy/Meliorn, Rated M, 1.8k words, Post Canon

Things have changed since the death of the Seelie Queen. Isabelle visits the Seelie Court, her Seelie King.

Written for @shadowhunterschallenges, Day 2 of the RarePair Challenge: Melizzy

Read On AO3

Things have changed since the death of the Seelie Queen.

Isabelle doesn’t walk into the Seelie realm through the back door anymore; she walks into it through the main entrance, the one that leads directly next to the palace. The one she never used to take before.

Leaves, the colors of sunset, gather at the foot of the great arched bridge over which a street has been built. The entrance is underneath the old, cream-colored stone, darkened by age and the constant pollution of the mundane world.

More leaves stick wetly to the lambskin of her thigh-high boots as she walks into the darkness under the bridge. She takes step after step, and every time the cluster of leaves stick further up her body. Soon, her legs are covered by leaves from the tip of her toe to her thigh. She can feel her body half into the Seelie Realm already.

Wind blows more leaves onto her. They stick now to her torso, to the dress she’s wearing and the jacket on top of that. Soon, the first leaf gets onto her cleavage, cold and wet and disgusting. It hasn’t rained in New York in weeks.

Isabelle struggles not to blink away the hand-sized red maple leaf that covers one of her eyes. Her mouth is covered by more of them, keeping her from breathing properly, a barrier from the air. She keeps walking. Once the last inch of her body is covered in leaves, she feels herself pulled into the Seelie Court.

Fingers pry the leaves from her eyes. She blinks open. A Seelie girl, hair braided with flowers, is standing above her. Isabelle doesn’t know how to describe the look in the girl’s eyes. Animosity? Curiosity? A mix of both?

Seelie-Clave relations haven’t gotten much better since Clary’s departure. Though the rest of the Shadow World has settled into a sort of peace, with some distinct improvements when it comes to Downworlder rights all over the world, Seelies have kept their gates closed, even more so than before.

Jonathan was a Shadowhunter, despite the demon blood. And many Seelies are still upset that he killed their Queen. Even if the new Monarch is much more to Isabelle’s liking.

She sits up from where she’s appeared, right before the Seelie Palace’s gate, in the piles of leaves. The Seelie girl stares at her, awaiting something. Maybe a reason why she’s here.

“I’m here to see the Seelie King,” Isabelle says, not without snap in her tone.

The Seelie girl’s lips curl back on themselves to show long, sharp, villiform teeth. Isabelle sighs softly. She’s used to this now. She’s used to what it’s like to visit the King.

“I’m Isabelle Lightwood,” she continues.

The girl freezes and hides away her teeth. Good. Isabelle peels leaves from her long, flowing hair. She’s let it grow a little more now and it reaches down to her lower back. She likes the look it gives her. And the King likes it as well.

“The Queen of the New York Nephili Court,” the girl hisses.

She must be very young, Isabelle realizes. Only the young Seelies call her the Queen of the New York Nephili Court. They haven’t yet been explained that the hierarchy of the Clave is not the hierarchy of the Seelie Realm.

Isabelle hums in reply.

The doors to the Seelie Palace open as Isabelle steps up to them. She smiles. Outside, she forgets what it feels like to be powerful like she is in the Seelie Realm. Now, handmaidens buzz around her to take her jacket and take the leaves off of her clothing. They were wet and that water has seeped into the fabric of her dress, leaving it stained in places, almost see-through in others.

She shoos them away and they disperse like flies. Isabelle can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Is he holding court?” Isabelle asks the girl that met her at the gate.

The girl nods.

Isabelle starts walking down the corridor of the palace. It’s overgrown by vines and plants, flowers as large as her head blossoming around the pillars that keep the high, vaulted ceilings up. Isabelle doesn’t stop to look at the flowers anymore. She knows this place better than all other Shadowhunters.

She walks into the Seelie Courtroom. There’s a small warlock man, his antlers too heavy for his head, talking to the man that sits on the throne of the Seelie Monarch.

His eyes snap from the warlock to her immediately as she steps through the room. They’re dark, sharp, and they roam over her body, over the whip on her wrist and the seraph blade in her thigh holster. She’s the only Shadowhunter allowed her weapons in the court. Perk of being the King’s Consort, she guesses.

She’s earned that title, been through all of the trials of the Seelie Court, proved her value as his Consort. She’s been chosen by him and she’s been trialed by his people. They don’t really get to complain and demand anything of her, anymore.

The King smiles at her, a secretive smile only for her. Isabelle smiles back at him. The Seelie Crown rests on his head, hair strands wrapped and braided around his face and around the wood of the crown. The blue highlights he’s always worn peek through the darkness of the headdress. He looks beautiful.

The Court falls silent, everyone staring at her. She walks to the throne and stands in front of him. The warlock is entirely forgotten by everyone. He doesn’t dare speak up against her. No one does when they learn who she is.

The King stands from his throne. The robe he wears over his clothing unfolds around him like the leaves that covered her as she walked into the realm. He holds out a hand for her and she takes it. He pulls her to him, her body hitting his hard, his hands already leaving hers to grab at her waist and keep her close.

She tilts her head back. He kisses her. His lips are demanding against her and she lets herself be conquered just for this very public moment. They both know the dynamics aren’t the same once they’re in private. In front of the realm, she’s his Consort and he’s the King. Power is in his hands.

The last time she tried to take power in public, he took her on the throne, in front of every Seelie of the palace. He told her to watch their faces as he showed them, and her, that she was his Consort, not the Queen. She still remembers the stinging humiliation.

When he pulls away from her, she chases after him for more, pliant against him. Only for him. He smiles at her, a promise of later in his eyes.

The faces of the Seelies in his court are all scarred now. Now that he’s King, they have all cut out their plants and vines, sacrificing them and punishing themselves to emulate the way the previous Queen punished him. Isabelle presses a kiss to his cheek.

She sits by his side the rest of the audience, until he decides he’s had enough and he wants private time. She follows him back towards his bedchambers. The door slams shut behind them, and they’re alone.

“Isabelle,” he breathes, and she grins at him.

“Meliorn,” she replies. “That sure was a display of power, out there.”

“Hm,” is all he says, and his hands are already pulling at the zipper of her dress.

She swats his hand away harshly. “The girl at the gate was rude to me,” she continues, unzipping her dress and stepping out of it. She’s in her underwear now and the thigh-high boots that she’s still wearing.

Meliorn presses a kiss against her collarbone and she lets him. “You taste like humus,” he whispers. “As if you’ve slept naked onto the ground of the Wander Woods again.”

Isabelle chuckles. Her fingers untangle his braids and strands from the crown. She makes quick work of the hairstyle that keeps the crown on his head seamlessly.

“I’ll have to renew your connection to the Woods soon,” she hums, finishing to take the crown from him. “It’s fading.”

“Whenever you wish, Isabelle,” he speaks against her skin, kissing and licking patterns onto her cleavage, the swell of her breasts. Her nipples are still covered by her bra. He knows better than to try to take it off when she’s taking power from him.

She tosses away the crown, accentuating her carelessness for the symbol of his power. She knows he loves it.

“Not today,” she shrugs. “I have to go back to the Institute,” she hums. “They do need me to lead them.”

Meliorn smirks at her. “And you lead them so beautifully, my dear.”

Isabelle shrugs off the compliment. She pushes him back towards the bed.

“I’ll make sure no one is ever rude to you again,” he promises. “Unless you want to punish some of them, sometimes.”

Isabelle shakes her head. “I don’t get off on punishing. You do,” she reminds him.

Meliorn grins as he undoes his robe and takes off his clothes. He makes quick work of it, even if there are a bit more layers to his outfits than to hers. Her dress is discarded on the floor and so is his crown, laying sideways onto a bench.

She slides onto the bed, sighing softly. “Do you remember when I came to your home, that small tent at the edge of the wood, and we would fuck for information?” She asks, her fingers tracing patterns onto the sheets of the bed.

“I do,” Meliorn smiles. “It was a lifetime ago.”

She nods. He gets into bed as well, settles close to her. She moves, straddling him now. She can see the scars of his torso and the regrowing vines in his flesh. Sometimes she wonders if they hurt. She’s asked him before and he offered to grow some in her body, to see what it would be like. She refused. She’s not ready to be more of a Seelie.

With every time she renews her connection to the Woods, she becomes a little less of a Shadowhunter, a little more of a Seelie. She’s been told that, one day, she might not be able to use her weapons and stele anymore. One day, she will be too much of a Seelie for the Clave.

She dreads that day. She spaces out her renewals as much as possible and she always makes sure that she’s not fertile when she visits him. A Seelie King doesn’t need an heir and she doesn’t need to be even more of a fey from it.

She looks down at his face again and gently caresses it. Her King.

“I need information again,” she says quietly.

His grin is brighter than the New York sun in August.

[enkelimagnus]

Day 6 of @shadowhunterschallenges ‘s RarePairs Challenge: Clary/Rebecca

Artist Girlfriend x History of Art Student Girlfriend, who have known each other forever and who just feel write

[dark-alice-lilith]

Title: Hey Honey

Pairing: Jace/Meliorn

Rating: T

Summary: Mundane AU. 

“You want to join me at my table?” Meliorn asked, pointing towards an empty table near the corner where there sat an almost empty drink. “We don’t have to talk, but no one would bother you.”

A/N: For @shadowhunterschallenges day 3 of their Rare, Obscure and Crack ship challenge.