#that loft bed was the bane of my existence
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it seems that my mother doesn’t understand basic math (geometry? but 3d) that you can’t fit a rectangle into a smaller square (even if it’s attached to a longer rectangle (stairs) if you can’t get it past the doorway)
#like her idea to fix it is to either squish me into the wall while i have like half an inch of grip space or just continue jamming it#into the doorframe to see if maybe this time it will work#her other idea is to put it in my room even tho i barely have space for my bed and wardrobe let alone a whole nother wardrobe#or to put it in the space between the wall and the end of my bed where i wouldn’t be able to stand and pull out the drawers#only the top drawers would be able to be pulled out#she also disregards the fact that i’ve measured everything in my room so i can put everything in the space where i would have the most open#space. and i have maybe a 2.5ft x 12ft (i don’t know how much a foot is)#of open space (that’s in quotations) it’s really walkable but also not bc there’s not enough space to store everything which is why i want#shelves so i can store things not on the ground or in drawers that take up too much space. like this room was supposed to be a laundry room#but instead we have a laundry closet and a small ass room that would probably be better as an office than a bedroom#it’s never been a good bedroom with enough space even when i had a loft bed#that loft bed was the bane of my existence#if i didn’t hit my head everytime i woke up i would end up falling off it on to the ground bc we never fully set it up to where you wouldn’t#fall off of it if you rolled away from the wall#also we have short ceilings so even if i slammed my head on the ceiling when i woke up and wasn’t able to fully sit up i also couldn’t fully#stand under it. i had rlly bad back and neck problems when i slept in that bed
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i love fresh clean sheets….. if only there was a super tall big smokey man here to share it with me…….
#when am i ever not thinking abt grimshaw man#unrelated but i HATE putting my sheets on since my bed is a loft bed it’s literally the bane of my existence#but it’s so worth when they’re soft and clean and smell good like the fabric soap……
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marigold - hongjoong (m)
part of the frat boy series.
summary: annoying frat boy!hongjoong. your best friend and the bane of your existence is probably the love of your life, and you’re not sure how to tell him. your mutual friend seonghwa knows about your true feelings for hongjoong, and he does everything in his power to get you two together. one halloween party, one rainy car ride and one emotional rollercoaster later, you finally get a taste of what you’ve been waiting so long for.
word count: 12.7k
warnings: smut!!!! protected sex. some alcohol use. afab reader, gendered pronouns. kinda unedited!
“you’re joking right?” you ask with a scoff. “you can’t be serious right now.”
“but i am!” your best friend, hongjoong, says with a devious smile. “it’s a cute costume!”
“joong, it’s barely a costume,” you insist, pulling at the strands of fabric he’s dangling in front of you. “i’m not sure i could get into that let alone wear it at a party all night.”
“cmon, you’re gonna find the perfect man wearing this,” hongjoong says, wiggling his eyebrows and nudging your arm. “no offense my love, but you need to get laid.”
“no offense, my love,” you emphasize with a shove back against him, “but i’m not wearing that even if you paid me.”
“name your price.”
“oh baby you can’t afford me,” you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.
“FINE,” he sighs dramatically. “but you owe me.”
“just like you owe me for setting you up with that girl from my japanese class?”
“ahem,” a voice cuts in, pulling your collective focus away. seonghwa is standing in the doorway of their shared room, eyebrows raised. it seems like he quirks them further when he sees that you’re sharing the futon under hongjoong’s lofted bed, your feet draped over his lap and his hand casually on your knee. it’s comfortable, because you and hongjoong are so close, but seonghwa knows what’s really going on.
seonghwa knows that you’re deeply, madly in love with your best friend. you’ve been into him since you met at work a few years ago, and you drunkenly confessed to seonghwa at a party last month that you’ve been waiting for hongjoong to make a move for about....two years now. super casual, no need for alarm, but seonghwa has been a little mad at you ever since he found out because he knows you’re aware of how slutty hongjoong is, politely. he knows that you know hongjoong will never be a relationship guy, and you’re not necessarily looking for something long term, but you’d want to hold onto hongjoong longer than he’d like to stick around. that’s why you’re fine with being friends, at least you still get to see him all the time and share all the exciting parts of your life with him. but seonghwa is still pissed, because he thinks you’re better than that.
“hey seonghwa,” you say first, and he slowly walks into the room.
“hope i’m not interrupting,” he says as he dumps his clean clothes onto his bed.
“not at all,” hongjoong replies, pushing your legs off him to go show seonghwa what he thinks is the perfect halloween costume. “look at this.”
“did you get into a fight?” seonghwa asks. “how’d your shirt get ruined?”
“it’s not mine,” hongjoong says. “it’s y/n’s. i think it’d be a great costume, but you disagree, don’t you?”
“i don’t want to be a sexy mummy,” you insist, taking up the space hongjoong left and sprawling out over the futon. “i’m sleeping here tonight, by the way.”
“we knew that,” hongjoong says, and seonghwa nods in confirmation.
“you don’t want to wear that, y/n?” seonghwa asks, making you sit up and glare at him. “it could attract the right attention.”
“what do you mean by that?” hongjoong questions, eyes whipping back and forth between you and hwa. “y/n’s into somebody?”
“no,” you say quickly before seonghwa can reply. “hwa’s just looking out for me like you are.” hongjoong holds your gaze a moment longer to make sure you’re not lying, and while he’s staring you down you see seonghwa rolling his eyes. hongjoong turns around to ask hwa a question and you stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh.
“hey, i don’t like it when you guys have jokes i don’t understand,” hongjoong whines. “y/n’s my best friend, we should have inside jokes.”
“sorry man, i guess i just see a different side of her,” seonghwa says, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.
“ok, whoa, don’t tell me you have a hard on for my best friend, man,” hongjoong replies defensively. he looks between you both and then his face softens as he goes on, “actually, you two would make a cute couple. have you ever thought about-”
“no!” you and seonghwa shout in unison.
“ok, ok, sorry!” he says defensively. “but, like, have you thought about it...? even just a little bit?”
“i’m going to take a shower,” you say simply, standing up and grabbing a clean towel off of seonghwa’s bed. you ignore his protests as you head to the en suite that connects them to more of the boys living in the frat house, and you make sure the bathroom is free from frat-goers (or guests) before you get undressed. you hear seonghwa and hongjoong arguing through the door, but can’t make out the words. you choose to ignore it and turn the shower on, humming a song as you search for yunho’s body wash (it smells the best, sh!). maybe you’ll catch the end of the argument when you come back out.
-
“seriously, do you have a thing for y/n?” hongjoong asks seonghwa as soon as the bathroom door shuts.
“why are you so concerned? you don’t have a thing for her, do you?” seonghwa quips back, and hongjoong stutters out a response.
“i, no, i’m just saying, if you were into y/n i wouldn’t be opposed. you could dick her down-”
“stop talking.”
“-and maybe she’d get off my dick about how much i sleep around!” hongjoong finishes. “she needs to be reminded of the simple pleasures of being human.”
“why is she even friends with you?”
“you’re friends with me,” hongjoong points out, and seonghwa stares at him with a half folded shirt in his hands.
“and do you think that’s by choice or by proximity?”
“careful or i’ll piss in your bed the next time i’m drunk.”
“do you two need to be left alone?” you ask, poking your head out of the bathroom to hear the end of the worst possible conversation ever.
“hey sexy, sleeping without clothes on?” hongjoong asks, referring to your towel clad, post-shower body.
“no jackass,” you say, cheeks heating up ever so slightly. “i forget this house is run by elderly rats so i left my clothes on the floor and now they’re soaked. i need a shirt to sleep in or something.”
“here,” seonghwa starts to pass you one of his clean ones, neatly folded into stacks on his bed. hongjoong beats him to it though, making it to his closet in two steps and pulling a shirt out for you.
“you can wear this,” he says, tossing it to you and you thank him quietly but linger at the door. “need something else?”
“am i supposed to sleep commando? all my clothes are sopping wet,” you reiterate. “so i need. boxers. or pants.”
“you want em to match the shirt?” hongjoong asks, and you laugh even though he’s completely serious.
“yes please,” you reply just to give him the chance to make something cute for you out of this awkward situation.
“hmmm, ok,” he says, looking through his underwear drawer before pulling out a pair of boxer briefs for you. “these are probably clean.”
“probably?!”
“kidding,” he says as he slingshots them your way. miraculously you’re able to catch them and you thank him again before you duck back into the bathroom. when you come out a few minutes later, seonghwa is busy putting his clothes away and hongjoong is messing with pillows and blankets on the futon.
“i could’ve done that,” you tell him, and he shakes his head.
“nope, i’m doing this for me,” he says. “you’re taking the bed.”
“hongjoong no-”
“no protests!” he insists. “let me be nice to you.”
“ok,” you reply meekly, gratefully taking the pillow he hands you.
“now give us a spin, let me see the fit,” he teases, and you roll your eyes at him.
“it’s just pajamas, it’s not a fit. it is cute though.”
“yeah, when you said you were giving her something that matched i thought you were gonna pull out your spongebob set,” seonghwa says with a sneaky smile.
“you have spongebob pjs?!” you ask eagerly, and you catch hongjoong blushing.
“only because hwa gave them to me!”
“because you asked for them! you liked my patrick ones so bad you wanted your own!”
“you guys have matching pjs?” you ask with a smile. “now that is just precious. maybe one day i’ll get sandy pjs and we can all match.”
“hey, that’s a good idea!” hongjoong says, a mischievous spark in his eyes.
“what is?”
“us wearing matching costumes,” he continues. “for halloween.”
“no, don’t involve me in this,” seonghwa says with a shake of his head.
“no,” you and hongjoong both whine.
“it would be cute, hwa!” you insist.
“cmon, we’ve been friends long enough i think we’re long overdue for a throuple costume,” hongjoong agrees.
“don’t call it that,” seonghwa says, “and maybe i’ll consider it. if you come up with a good idea and find the costumes, i’ll do it.”
“deal,” hongjoong says happily, grabbing his phone to no doubt look for costume ideas. “turn the light off when you’re done being anal about your sock drawer?”
“fine.”
-
the next day, you wake up to the sound of seonghwa tripping over hongjoong’s shoes as he’s getting ready for class. a quick peek over the side of the bed lets you know that hongjoong isn’t in the room, did he have an early class you didn’t know about? you lift yourself up, alerting seonghwa of your presence, and he nods at you with a yawn.
“how’d you sleep?” he asks with a smack of his lips.
“pretty good,” you reply, absentmindedly playing with the corner of hongjoong’s pillow. “these sheets are really soft.”
“yeah, hongjoong pays for designer bedding,” seonghwa says. “he’s a weirdo.”
“yep.”
“what do you see in him?” seonghwa asks bluntly. “i know you’re super into him, but why? why is he the guy you’re hung up on.”
“maybe hongjoong was right,” you start. “maybe you are into me.” a pillow flying at your head tells you you’re wrong. “hey!”
“i’m in a relationship, you dipshit,” seonghwa says.
“since when?!”
“for about a month,” seonghwa brushes it off. “we’re not talking about me. we’re talking about you and your sadistic interest in your best friend who, to my understanding, you just set up with one of your friends?”
“so you heard that?”
“why’d you do that?” hwa asks, sounding disappointed. “why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”
“i don’t know,” you shrug. “i know him better than anyone. i would know if he liked me back. so i guess i tried setting him up with my friend to trick myself into moving on? like maybe if he was really into someone else then i could finally get him off my mind.”
“y/n,” seonghwa sighs. “you deserve more than this. you can’t just wait around for him, or wait for yourself to get over him. maybe you do need to get laid.”
“you and joong make a charming pair, did you know that?” you ask with a smile. “i’ll try my best.”
“you know san-”
“always hits on me, i know,” you cut him off. “but he’s so much worse than hongjoong. you look up fuckboy in the dictionary and his picture is there instead of a definition.”
“i’m not saying you need to find mr. right, you just need something..fun,” seonghwa says carefully. “san could be that thing.”
“i’ll think about it,” you assure him. “is he here, do you know?”
“is who here?” hongjoong asks, busting back into the room with a carrier of coffee and a bag from mcdonald’s. “i’m right here baby.”
“i knew you didn’t have an early class,” you say, reaching down for the coffee you know is yours. seonghwa always gets hot chocolate (child) and joong drinks cold coffee even in the snow (madman) so it’s easy to distinguish them all. the first sip is heavenly, and you thank hongjoong as he climbs up into his lofted bed with you.
“hwa i didn’t know if you were hungry so i just got you a biscuit,” he starts, tossing the food down. seonghwa has to act fast, but thankfully he catches it. “and i got you that weird sandwich you like. it confused the poor girl in the drive thru though, i don’t think anyone ever orders it.”
“well i appreciate the effort,” you say as you snatch the delicacy from his hands.
“so what did i interrupt?” hongjoong asks, mouthful of hashbrown. “who are you looking for?”
“did you see san downstairs?” seonghwa asks, and hongjoong thinks for a minute.
“he might have just come home, yeah,” he says finally. “why, you lookin for him?”
“no, y/n is,” seonghwa smirks, and hongjoong stiffens next to you. “i’m trying to convince her to stop ignoring his courtship and just let the guy take her out.”
“why?” hongjoong asks defensively, and you look to him quickly, trying to read his expression. he turns to catch your eye, and you almost see...panic? worry? but it vanishes before you can identify it. “he’s a dick.”
“he’s your friend,” you say.
“yeah, and he’s a dick,” hongjoong repeats. “he just wants to get in your pants.”
“i’m sorry, didn’t we have a whole conversation last night about how you wished someone would blow my back out?”
“OH!” hongjoong shouts, shuffling around for his phone. “that reminds me, i figured out our costume!!!”
you and seonghwa share a look, noticing how hongjoong ignored your question and changed the subject so quickly. the side glance is interrupted by hongjoong’s phone being shoved in your face, and you cackle at the picture in front of you.
“ok, that’s it,” you gasp through another laugh. “you can’t pick our costumes for anything, ever.”
“what is it?” seonghwa asks, scurrying over and standing on his tiptoes to see into the bed better. hongjoong shows him, and a slow smile creeps over seonghwa’s face.
“NO,” you say, “you LIKE it?!”
“what? it’s cute!” seonghwa says.
“thank you!” hongjoong shouts. “two against one, y/n, sorry.”
“ok, then it can be a couple costume,” you tell them as you shake your head. “i’m not doing that.”
“but we love this movie,” hongjoong pouts. “you’ll be boo, i’ll be sully, hwa will be mike wazowski, it’ll be perfect.”
“that’s what you said about the mummy.”
“i mean it this time.”
“wait, why am i wazowski?” hwa asks.
“because of your big beautiful eyes. or should i say eye,” you joke, and hongjoong laughs, falling over into your side as he does. when he regains his composure, you feel like he’s closer than he was before, but maybe that’s just your imagination. “plus, your new little boo thing could be celia!”
“seonghwa has a celia?!” hongjoong asks, eyes wide. “ok, i officially don’t like you two knowing more about each other than i do.”
“aw does baby have main character syndrome?” you tease, pouting in joong’s direction. “hwa and i can be friends, shut up.”
“no,” he snips. “you hurt my feelings. and to make up for it, you have to be the boo to my sully.”
“fine,” you sigh dramatically. hongjoong leans in and pecks your cheek, thanking you profusely as he dives back into his breakfast, thrilled about the frat’s halloween party this weekend because the three of you are “totally gonna dominate the costume contest.” you don’t hear him though, too focused on the heat lingering on your cheek. you smile to yourself as joong blabbers on, and return to the food in front of you. maybe the costumes will be fun after all.
-
“hongjoong, no,” you insist, getting deja vu to the other night. “that can’t be my costume! why do you keep doing this to me?”
“why do you hate having fun?” hongjoong counters, pouting behind the shirt he’s holding up. this is supposed to be your entire costume?
“it’s freezing and you want me to wear a shirt and nothing else?”
“i got biker shorts!” he says, scrambling through a bag on his futon. “they look like boo’s shorts, so you can wear those and the shirt. what’s wrong with that? may i remind you that you agreed to this.”
“yeah, but i thought you were gonna get actual costumes.”
“these are costumes!”
“these are just clothes!” you argue, pointing to the goodwill bags on his bed. “you made it seem like you were gonna be in a full sully suit, so i thought i was gonna be in that fake monster suit boo wears. not clothes that could still get me hypothermia.”
“y/n please,” hongjoong begs. “i worked really hard to find these outfits, and i’m really proud of them. we’re gonna look so cute! and you’re ruining it!”
“i’m not ruining it,” you grumble, snatching the shirt from his hands. “i’ll do it.”
“thank you thank you thank you!” hongjoong cheers, kissing your cheeks repeatedly in gratitude. he finishes with one last peck on the tip of your nose, and you can’t help but smile at your annoying best friend.
“you’re welcome,” you sigh, grabbing the shorts too. “but move, i need to go to the bathroom and change.”
you shuffle past hongjoong and he says he’s going to find seonghwa to give him his pieces, and you nod before sneaking into the main part of the bathroom. you turn around and almost jump out of your skin, not expecting to see san in there. especially not a half naked san, because he’s in...red leather pants? and nothing else?
“jesus, you scared me,” you say, clutching your chest.
“well i do live here,” he says with a smirk, eyeing the items in your hands. “costume?”
“yeah,” you nod. “you?”
“nah, this is just my loungewear,” he teases, getting you to crack a smile.
“so what are you?” you ask, not so subtly checking him out. what kind of costume is just red pants? sexy santa?
“i’m the devil,” he responds, holding up a headband with horns on it to complete the look.
“dressing in character i see,” you tease, and san pretends to look offended.
“do you need help getting into your costume, love?” he asks, motioning to your clothes, and you shake your head.
“no, thank you,” you say sternly. “but i might need help with the pigtails.”
a few minutes later, you’re in full boo (and freezing, why don’t they turn the heat on in here?) and san has you centered in the mirror with the most concentrated look on his face. he’s trying to get your pigtails to be the same height. the left one is done, perfect, and now he’s working on the right, his tongue tucked between his lips in concentration. for once he’s quiet, not trying to hit on you, and as he smooths your hair to add the elastic, hongjoong comes bursting into the bathroom, causing san to let the hair tie go and slingshot against your head as a result.
“ow!” you shriek, elbowing san in his very warm, firm and exposed midriff.
“sorry,” he says quickly, kissing the side of your head that got the hit. “all better?”
“what are you doing?” hongjoong asks coldly. you look at him through the mirror, san’s hand still gripping your hair and restricting your movement. you notice hongjoong leaned up against the bathroom door in his subtle sully costume, arms crossed over his chest.
“i’m helping y/n get dressed,” san says simply. “can you hand me another elastic, doll?”
“why, did the other one ricochet off my head and sail to the moon?”
“hey, i didn’t fling it that hard-”
“i can help her,” hongjoong cuts in, moving behind you to push san out of the way. “looks like you’re not dressed yet yourself.”
“nope, i’m all good,” san replies, winking at you in the mirror. “being a sexy devil doesn’t need much work.”
“who said you were sexy?”
“people,” san shrugs, catching your eye again. “i bet y/n agrees.”
“i’m not feeding your ego, san.”
“ugh, such a tease,” he whines. “i’m gonna go check on the drinks. i’ll see you down there?”
“maybe,” hongjoong answers for you curtly, slighting pulling your hair as he finishes the pigtail. you mutter a quiet ouch that goes unnoticed by the two men, and you roll your eyes. frat boys are so dramatic. hongjoong finishes your hair, adjusting a few things before patting the top of your head to signify he’s done. you turn around to face him, and the proximity almost takes your breath away. you stare at him closely for a second before speaking.
“so could you have been any ruder to san?”
“i wasn’t rude to the kid,” hongjoong says with a wave of his hand. “he’s a big boy, he can handle it anyway.”
“hm.”
“what?”
“nothing,” you shrug, pushing past hongjoong to go back into his room. you see seonghwa in there, adjusting his hair in the mirror on their door. he checks your costume and smiles.
“you look cute,” he says sweetly. then he sees hongjoong behind you. “you look mad.”
“hongjoong is jealous,” you tell him, gathering your phone and the cheap white sneakers you’ll wear tonight, even though it’s not necessarily part of the costume. you refuse to attend a frat party in just socks.
“i am not jealous!” hongjoong says defensively. is that a blush you see creeping up his neck?
“of who?” seonghwa perks up. “san?!”
“yeah, he was flirting with me and joong didn’t like it,” you explain.
“i’m liking this,” seonghwa says with an evil smirk. “operation get y/n laid is in motion.”
“no!” hongjoong shouts, pulling your attention.
“and why not?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow as you wait for a response. hongjoong sputters for a moment before he can get a real thought out.
“i...he...i don’t....ugh. fine, yeah. go fuck him, who cares.”
-
hongjoong doesn’t know why you and san being so buddy buddy has his blood boiling, but he sure doesn’t like it. he knows he started this whole "operation” but the thought of you spending the night at the frat and not ending up in his bed was...strange.
wait, not like that though. like, you ending up in his bed as in he’s letting you sleep there while he’s on the futon. not like..fucking. or maybe that’s what his subconscious is trying to tell him? why else would he be so jealous? no. don’t even go there.
it could just be the fact that you’re such good friends and hongjoong doesn’t want to watch you get hurt by someone he knows will lose interest in you as soon as he gets his dick wet. yes, that’s it! that’s his story. not the him wanting you in his bed one, no. that’s weird. so he’ll just play up the protective friend card, and everyone will be happy in the end.
that’s what leads to hongjoong following you around all night, at least more than usual. typically he’ll slip away at some point to chase some ass, but tonight he’s everywhere you turn. you’re not complaining, you like the extra attention from him, but you also really enjoy the way san keeps checking you out, and hongjoong is preventing anything from happening there.
“hey, i think my friend from class is here,” you say, pulling hongjoong down to your level to make sure he hears. your lips just grazing his ear has the hair on the back of his neck standing up, but he just shrugs it off.
“oh really?” he asks, looking over your shoulder to see the girl he was chasing earlier this week. you must not be that close with her, otherwise you’d know how brutally she turned him down. she looks good though, so good that he almost abandons ship and risks the humiliation of another rejection. but he sees san move closer out of the corner of his eye, and he refocuses on his main objective for the night. “i think i’m good right here.”
“while i’m flattered you want to spend time with me,” you begin, “i don’t need a babysitter. you can go talk to her, i don’t mind, really.”
hongjoong tries to object, but you actually start to push him away, so he decides he has to at least disappear for a minute or so to make you think he went to shoot his shot. thankfully she went into the dining room where there’s germ filled bowls of snacks, so he heads in that direction and passes right through to the kitchen to grab another drink. he makes too, one for him and one for you, and he’s working on his story as he walks back but the sight he returns to stops him dead in his tracks.
you’re in the same spot, except now you’re pinned to the wall by none other than choi san. and even though it’s dark, and hongjoong doesn’t have the best view, it looks like san’s trying to fuse your lips together by sheer force. hongjoong decides in a split second whether he should back off (he did say you needed to get laid) but he realizes it can’t be by choi san. forget whatever he said earlier, he’s stepping in.
he walks up to you and feigns innocence, letting out an “oh!” once he’s within ear shot. your eyes shoot open and find his, and san notices your attention being pulled away. he doesn’t separate his lips from yours as he turns to follow where your eyes are looking nervously, and when san sees hongjoong he pulls away but places his hands firmly on your hips.
“hey man,” he says casually. “you having a good time?”
“i was,” hongjoong spits. “y/n i brought you a drink.”
“we’re kinda busy man,” san says a little more sternly. “we’ll catch up with you later.”
“y/n?” hongjoong asks, ignoring san. you look between the two men awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
“i’m not thirsty,” you finally say, politely pushing the cup hongjoong has offered you away. “thanks though.”
“sure thing,” he grumbles, stomping off to god knows where. you watch him go, but san pushing your chin up to meet his sultry gaze pulls you back to the moment.
hongjoong huffed his way through the party up to his room, trying not to think about what might be going on downstairs. only when he opens the door to his room, he sees seonghwa getting busy with his new girlfriend (hongjoong wasn’t sure she was real, this confirms that for sure).
“oh god,” hongjoong groans, closing the door and shouting “sorry!” a few times for good measure. he doesn’t know where to go now, so he trudges his way to the stairs and plops down on the top step. he poured your drink into his own before heading to his room, and now he downs the double before sighing and leaning his head on the wall. he closes his eyes for a moment, unable to process his thoughts with all that’s going on around him. a drunken stranger stumbling out of the hall bathroom brings him back to reality, and he scoots out of the way as they walk treacherously downstairs. hongjoong watches them go, wondering how everyone else is having a better time at this party than him. when the partygoer reaches the end of the stairs and turns right to head back into the fray, hongjoong notices two people scurrying to the bedrooms on the main floor. he recognizes the pink shirt and red leather pants, and you make eye contact with your best friend as san leads you into his room. hongjoong just watches on as you get pulled in, and after moping for a moment longer, he stands and heads back to the party. if he can’t stop you from getting seduced by his new mortal enemy, then he’ll just go drown his sorrows until hopefully seonghwa and his girl tire out so he can just sneak into bed later and hate himself for getting into this situation in the first place.
-
“so,” san starts, standing in front of you in his dimly lit room. there’s one line of led lights on the back wall, lit red to keep up with his devilish theme tonight. “what now, love?”
“what, you talk a big game and then when it comes time to take off my pants you just back down?” you laugh, and san shakes his head.
“no, i’m very familiar with what happens next,” he assures you. “i just didn’t know if this is what you really wanted. if i’m what you wanted.”
“what do you mean? my tongue down your throat didn’t confirm that for you?”
“no baby,” he laughs. “i just...got a vibe from hongjoong earlier. a few times tonight, actually. he doesn’t like this.”
“no, he’s never been this..protective before,” you start, and san cuts you off.
“he’s not being protective, he’s jealous y/n,” san says. “has he told you he likes you yet?”
“no?” you scoff. “he doesn’t like me. what makes you say that? no, no. he’s not into me like that.”
“but you like him,” san says as more of a statement than a question, and you just nod.
“i love him, actually.”
“wow,” he whistles. “i’m honored to have been in the running then.”
“you weren’t a bad distraction,” you say, and san smiles, his resolve almost breaking. but he’s nothing if not nosy. and now he needs every little detail.
“so tell me. how long have you been into hongjoong?”
“about since the day i met him.”
“wow,” he whistles again, and you whine.
“it’s pathetic, isn’t it?” you ask, and san shuts you up quickly.
“no! no,” he says, “it’s sweet. it’s frustrating though, because, as a completely unbiased third party, i’d say hongjoong has had a thing for you about as long.”
“he has not-”
“no, hear me out,” san says. “you probably never heard this, but anytime he met someone new he would always make a comment about how something they did or said or wore reminded him of you. he’d stop seeing people because they weren’t “more like y/n” and when he wasn’t talking about clothes or stupid guy stuff, he was talking about you. the man is obsessed with you my dear. i just think he’s oblivious. and a little dumb, for spending so much time with you without making a move, but that’s just me.”
“i don’t know,” you mumble, playing with the hem of your shirt. “i know him better than anyone else. i would’ve known.”
“ok, lemme ask a question,” san tries a new approach. “have you ever told him you liked him?” you shake your head no. “have you ever done anything to explicitly show him that you were into him as more than a friend?” again, no. “and why is that?”
“i know he doesn’t feel the same,” you say simply.
“ok, and? what if he feels the exact same way? what if he’s so sure you couldn’t like him back, and that’s why he hasn’t shown any of his true feelings?”
“that could be possible,” you nod, and san nods in agreement.
“so,” he nudges you. “what now?”
“i don’t know,” you whine. “i’m nervous. and joong is in a mood. i think we really pissed him off.”
“yeah we did,” san smiles proudly. “so you have two options, methinks.”
“methinks?”
“focus.”
“sorry.”
“you can either go find him and tell him how you really feel and make sweet sweet love-”
“don’t say it like that-”
“or you could stay here, and we could make him a little more jealous? maybe make him confess first?”
“...i’m listening.”
-
while you and san had a come to jesus downstairs, hongjoong had stumbled back to the steps in front of his room, dissatisfied with the party downstairs and how everyone there wasn’t you. all he wanted to do was lay down and go to sleep, but just because he was having a crappy night doesn’t mean he should bring seonghwa down with him. he’s trying to wait it out and give them a respectable amount of time to...finish up, and then he’ll politely knock and put some headphones in and blare music until the shots he did with some strangers knock him out for a few hours. he’s planning this in his head when someone sits down next to him, and he’s surprised to see seonghwa.
“hey,” he says casually.
“hey?” hongjoong replies, confused. “you um, you all done in there?”
“gross,” seonghwa groans. “but yes, thank you very much. she’s asleep, so don’t be a dick if you’re going back in there. i wanted to come check on you.”
“i don’t need to be checked on,” hongjoong grumbles, nursing the beer he brought with him to pass the time. “i’m just tired, ready for this to be over.”
“y/n got with san, i assume?” seonghwa asks, and hongjoong can’t even be surprised that he knew. san had been plotting this for a while, it was a long time coming. even more reason for joong to be mad at himself, he could’ve stopped this weeks ago. instead here he is, drunk and hurt and a little angry.
“yep.”
“and you’re mad about it?”
“yeah, hwa i am.”
“and why is that?”
“what is this, a therapy session?” hongjoong scoffs. “i’m fine dude, go back to your girlfriend. i’ll go to sleep in a second.”
“fine, if you won’t admit you like y/n and you were jealous of san tonight, maybe we can do this tomorrow then,” seonghwa says as he stands. hongjoong looks up in shock, and seonghwa nods. “yeah man, you weren’t subtle about it.”
“i fucked up man,” he says and seonghwa sits back down, nodding. “i shouldn’t have talked about setting her up so much, i feel like this is all my fault.”
“it is,” hwa agrees, and hongjoong pushes him slightly. “don’t get mad at me for pointing out what you know is true. you’re in this position because it took you too long to realize your own feelings, and that kept you from noticing how madly in love y/n is with you.”
“she is not-”
“is too!” seonghwa insists. “she told me! and i have eyes, it’s not hard to see. except if you’re you, i guess.”
“so what do i do now?”
“well, you could go talk to her.”
“i’ve already walked in on one couple having sex tonight, i’m good thanks.”
“sorry about that,” seonghwa says sheepishly. “but you don’t know that they’re fucking-”
“i watched her follow him into his room,” hongjoong cuts him off, and seonghwa nods.
“i still say you should try to talk to her tonight,” seonghwa says, “even if it means...waiting.”
“i don’t think i want to tell y/n how i feel when i know san has just fucked her though,” hongjoong counters, and seonghwa just shrugs.
“ok, then i’m back to what i said originally. go talk to her now. just don’t open your eyes immediately.” hongjoong sits for a moment, thinking it over, and then he crushes the rest of the beer in his hand before he stands. he doesn’t need to tell seonghwa where he’s going, he just watches on with veiled concern. hongjoong stomps downstairs, stopping in front of san’s door, and just as he raises his fist to bang on it and get you out of there, it swings open with another sight that makes his stomach drop.
you’re on your way out, which should be a good sign, except your hair is down (and a little messy, like someone’s hands were running through it) and you’re no longer wearing your costume. in fact, your costume is clutched in your hands, and you’re wearing what hongjoong can only assume is san’s hoodie and sweatpants. he’s too late, he thinks. he’s caught your walk of shame, leaving san’s room after...he stops himself. hongjoong takes in the sight before him, and he holds your confused gaze for a moment longer. then he turns, and he’s gone.
-
after halloween, you don’t hear from hongjoong for days.
no calls, no texts, and certainly no visiting the frat house to hang out. it was complete radio silence from him, but you weren’t making an effort either. you’re not sure how you feel about him currently, so the space might be good for the both of you.
while you’re upset, but mostly doing okay, hongjoong is a wreck. he didn’t get out of bed until seonghwa and yunho sat on the futon and kicked hongjoong’s bed from down below until he got annoyed enough to leave. then he only went to class because another guy in the frat, jongho, was in there with him and literally pulled him out of his room and towards campus. no one’s sure if he’s even eaten, but food disappears from the fridge every once in a while so he must be getting some nutrition. san has laid low too, not sure hongjoong knows the full story and worried there would be hell to pay if hongjoong got within swinging distance.
you’re walking home from class one day, contemplating a coffee break, when you almost physically run into seonghwa. you start to mumble an apology and a “see you later” but suddenly he’s grabbing your arm and pulling you down a hallway.
“well hello to you too seonghwa, how are you? i’m doing fine thanks for asking,” you huff, resetting yourself once he’s done manhandling you.
“what happened between you and san?” he asks bluntly.
“why do you care?”
“you know why,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “you know he saw you go into san’s room.”
“yeah, i saw him too, sitting on the stairs not doing anything,” you counter, and now seonghwa rolls his eyes.
“i’m tired of the two of you complaining about no one doing anything. you need to do something!”
“i did! i made out with san!”
“made out with him?” he asks. “is that all?”
“yes,” you answer quietly. “i...i couldn’t do it. and for what it’s worth, san apparently clocked that me and hongjoong had something going on so he wouldn’t have let me try anything anyway.”
“but hongjoong said you left in his clothes,” seonghwa says, confused.
“yeah, because i wasn’t gonna stay there and i needed something warm to walk home in,” you explain. “hongjoong didn’t plan for weather when he bought my costume. san was just trying to help.”
“well he helped a lot,” seonghwa says. “hongjoong thinks you two slept together and now he’s moping around like his life is over. you need to talk to him. tell him what really happened.”
“he’s not talking to me.”
“gee, i wonder why!”
“fine,” you sigh, giving seonghwa the side eye. he can be a little bitchy when he’s in problem solver mode. “i’ll call him when i get home.”
“good. i’ll know if you don’t,” he warns you, and you nod.
“we’ll talk, i promise,” you assure him, and he pretends to believe you as he says goodbye. he starts to walk away and you stop him, calling out, “is he home right now?”
“yep,” seonghwa shouts from further down the hall. “better go now, before any of the guys come back from class. i’ll spend the night somewhere else.”
“thank you,” you say with a meek smile, and seonghwa gives you one back. he keeps walking, and you take a deep breath before making your way to hongjoong.
-
seonghwa said none of the boys would be home, so you spend some time on the front porch psyching yourself up to see hongjoong. you practice what you’re going to say, and after a few minutes of weirding out the neighbors, you finally knock. it takes a second for the door to open, and you’re expecting hongjoong but instead you see san. he gives you a small smile, a questioning look in his eyes. you open your mouth to speak, hongjoong’s name on the tip of your tongue, when you see him heading downstairs over san’s shoulder. he catches your eye, and your heart stops. he looks awful, like he’s been sick. is he really like this because of you? hongjoong looks at you, and then who he assumes you’re here to see, and anger flashes over his features. he gives you one hard stare before he’s stomping back up to his room, leaving you still sputtering at the front door. san watches on, a little worried, and when you look up at him he asks if you still want to come in. you shake your head no, waving goodbye as you turn and walk back home.
-
unfortunately for you, it’s hongjoong’s birthday. it’s unfortunate because he’s still not talking to you, but he’s your best friend, so it would look really weird if you weren’t at his birthday party. you don’t want to go because it’ll be awkward, and you don’t wanna burden his special day with that. he’s decided he wants to go to the fall festival just outside the city, opting for a walk through an apple orchard and then a pumpkin patch so the boys can gather the discounted gourds for some weird prank they’re trying to pull on a neighboring frat. it sounds like a fun day, and you only know about it because you were added to the group text, which stings a little. usually you’d help hongjoong plan, or you’d be organizing some sort of special surprise for him. none of that this year.
you agree to ride with seonghwa and his girlfriend, who seems really sweet. you’re excited to get to know her on the short ride over, and it starts off as a pleasant day. hongjoong is nice to you when he gets out of the car with his brother and some of his friends from home, introducing you to the ones you don’t know and still giving you a tight hug when you hand over your poorly wrapped present for him. you all putter around as you wait for some of the other boys to show up, and hongjoong makes a subtle effort to keep at least two people between you at all times. bless seonghwa’s girlfriend though, maybe she knows what’s going on between you two, because she keeps talking to you and you like her more and more.
once everyone has arrived, hongjoong explains that you can all pick apples in the orchard and then take them back to the cidery where they’ll press what you picked into your own cider to take home, and while you wait there’s drinks you can sample. there’s also a wildflower field to take pictures in, which seems very on brand for hongjoong (he’s got a new camera strapped around his neck, must have been a present) and once he’s done talking you all mingle for a moment before going off in twos or threes to the orchard. seonghwa swoops his girlfriend away first so they can go be cute together, and you would go join hongjoong’s brother to catch up with him but he’s nowhere to be seen, so you consider just heading straight to the cidery to drown your sorrows. you turn in that direction and see hongjoong waiting for you, awkwardly clutching your present in his hands.
“i uh, i didn’t want to carry this through the orchard,” he starts, “don’t want it to get lost. so uh, i was gonna open it before i left, is that ok?”
“yeah,” you nod. “go ahead. i hope you like it.”
“i’m sure i will,” he says as he tears into the old newspaper you used as wrapping paper. he sees the corner of what’s inside, and recognition instantly lights up his face. “y/n you didn’t.”
“didn’t what?” you ask, trying to fight a smile.
“you bought me the beat pad i wanted,” he says in disbelief. “it’s the special edition one and everything. how did you know?”
“gee, it’s not like you didn’t talk about it for weeks before and after it dropped,” you tease. “i got one of the first releases.”
“there’s no way,” he says, shaking his head as he unboxes it further. “it’s beautiful. thank you.”
“you’re welcome,” you say with a genuine smile. “just remember me when you’re a big famous producer. or when you start your own fashion line, whatever.”
“you’re not gonna be by my side when it happens?” he pouts, and it almost tears your heart in two.
“i don’t know,” you say. “i’m not entirely sure where we stand right now.”
“that’s my fault,” he sighs. “i’m really sorry. i hope you can forgive me for being a dick, but i understand if it’ll take some time.”
“you never let me explain what actually happened,” you say, and he nods, telling you that seonghwa filled him in. “so i guess you know.”
“about you and san? yeah, like i said, hwa told me-”
“no, i mean,” you start, and you stop to take a breath before you continue. “so you know that i like you. that i’ve liked you for a while. years, actually. i hope that’s not weird.”
“it’s not weird,” he says sweetly. “i’ve liked you about as long, so. there’s that.”
“cool, so everyone’s caught up,” you nod. “coolcoolcool.”
“yep.”
there’s an awkward moment as you stand there and hongjoong plays around with his gift a little more, but he gets distracted by the camera around his neck and thankfully interrupts this terrible silence.
“oh! let me get a picture of you,” he says. “i want photos of everyone who came today. go stand over there.” you follow his orders and pose simply as he snaps the photo, looking on proudly at the result. “cute. cmon, let’s go get some more further into the orchard.”
“yeah, you’re missing out on your party, birthday boy,” you say while he carefully puts your gift back in his car. when he rejoins you, you offer your hand, and he smiles brightly as he grabs it and gives it a squeeze. “ready?”
“just a second,” he says, tongue poking out between his lips as he tries to take a photo of your intertwined fingers, and you laugh.
“cmon, stop being a simp and let’s go,” you give his arm a tug and he shrieks over you messing up the picture, and how he only has so much film and you just ruined a perfectly good moment, but you shoot him a silent glare and he smiles a dopey smile and shuts up. you start walking and you think fast, grabbing a basket for any apples you may grab on your walk. hongjoong explains how the website said there were different types of apples in certain areas, and you listen on in fascination as you watch him talk. you’re admiring how cute he looks with his bangs peeking past his beanie, and you stop him abruptly. “hand me the camera.”
“why?” he asks defensively, yanking it away like a child.
“joong, let me get a picture of you,” you beg. “you look handsome, and we need a picture of you too.”
he grumbles over being careful with his baby, and he quickly shows you how to use it. he waits for a moment, assuming you’ll take the picture then and there, but you eventually tell him that it needs to be candid, like when the inspiration struck you. he whines and you distract him by asking what kind of apples are in the tree behind him, and he says they might be honeycrisp so this would be a good spot to pick from. you hand him the basket and let him reach for the best lookers, and you let him get focused before you call out for him.
“hey baby?” you try out, and hongjoong turns, apple in hand and a shy smile on his face.
“baby?” he asks, not sure he heard you right but hoping he did. that’s when you snap the photo, cheering about how perfect that picture is gonna be.
“ok, you can have this back now,” you say happily, returning his “baby” back to him. he gives you a sweet smile and grabs your hand before you continue on. you stop shortly after to grab some golden apples, and at the next cluster of trees you finally catch up with the group. they’ve found the wildflowers, and everyone is stopping to take pictures, which hongjoong quickly barges in on. as soon as he leaves your side, seonghwa appears, giving you a look that says he wants to know what took you so long.
“we made up,” you tell him, and he let’s out a sigh of relief.
“thank god.”
“don’t be a dick.”
“well! it took you long enough!”
“i know that,” you hiss, smiling at hongjoong posing for a picture with his brother.
“he looks happy,” seonghwa points out and you agree. “you made him like that, with your womanly wiles and whatnot.”
“hey, speaking of womanly wiles,” you begin, “your girlfriend is really nice.”
“i concur.”
“maybe we could-”
“y/n!” hongjoong shouts, waving you over. “cmere!”
“your boyfriend wants you,” seonghwa says with a smirk, and you push him a little.
“he’s not my boyfriend yet.”
“beg to differ, but ok!”
“what’s up?” you ask as you approach. “i thought you already got a picture of me?”
“yeah, but i want a picture in front of the marigolds,” he says like it’s obvious.
“there’s marigolds?!” you ask, looking at the colors behind you and smiling when you spot the buds you love so much. you turn back to hongjoong and say, “you know those are my fav-”
“your favorite flower, right,” he says, pulling you into his side. “come closer, act like you like me.”
“actually, they’re not flowers,” you tell him, “they’re weeds. you’re supposed to pick them or else they’ll take over.”
“smile,” he says, and yunho snaps the picture for you. hongjoong bends down, pulling up a bundle of marigolds before handing them to you. “thanks for picking me.”
“oh that was so corny,” you groan, a smile threatening to split your face in half. “what happened to the suave frat boy? who brought their dad here?”
“watch it or i’ll take them back-” he starts, but he stops when you place your hand under his chin and pull him closer.
“no, i love it. i love them,” you assure him, centimeters away from his lips.
“i love you,” he whispers, and you lean in to finally, finally, kiss him. and suddenly it feels like everything is right with the world.
while you’re distracted by hongjoong’s lips, the hoots and hollers of your friends drown out the sound of another camera shutter, and yunho boasting about his perfect shot pulls you back to reality. you try to ignore the smug looks of your friends but apparently everyone knew about your crush aside from you, so this positive shift is shared throughout the group pretty quickly. no one dares break the two of you up, and that’s how you end up riding home with hongjoong at the end of the day.
while there was the most beautiful weather during your time at the orchard, the ride home is trying to completely ruin your day. it gets so bad once you and hongjoong are driving back to the city that you insist on pulling off for a while to let the storm pass, but hongjoong insists on driving farther.
“we’re almost at our exit,” he says. “so if i can just get to your house then we can go up to your room,” he continues, wiggling his eyebrows at his last comment.
“sure, but i don’t think this storm is gonna let us do that,” you tell him. “slow down a little so i can see this exit sign.” hongjoong doesn’t let up on the gas, so you don’t quite catch the sign passing by next to you. “okay genius, my spidey senses aren’t working, maybe we should just pull off here.”
“are you sure?” hongjoong asks. “we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“i’d rather be in the middle of nowhere than stuck on the highway waiting for a tow truck with a bunch of other people who can’t see through the rain driving by super fast,” you oppose, and hongjoong quickly agrees. he waits until there’s a track of highway well lit by streetlights, and he pulls off under a tree in full view of the exit. just in case you get snatched he wants there to be witnesses.
“do you wanna play i spy?” he offers, and you just laugh.
“are we five?”
“i spy something pretty.”
“that’s not how it works.”
“well too bad,” hongjoong insists. “i spy something pretty.”
“your eyes,” you guess, and he shakes his head. “your smile.”
“how conceited would i be if i made you guess something about myself?” he asks. “keep trying. don’t focus on me though.”
“is it something nearby?” you ask, and hongjoong shrugs. “is it in the car?” he nods furiously. “and it’s not you? you’re very pretty.”
“no,” he insists, “keep guessing.”
“if you’re trying to make me guess myself it’s not going to work,” you warn him. “i’m not falling for your tricks.”
“darn,” he sighs. “you ruined my whole move.”
“that couldn’t have been your whole move,” you say unsure. “what’s your go to?”
“well,” hongjoong begins. “i don’t do this often, if that’s what you’re wondering. i usually start off with a comment about the place, so i say whatever we’re doing is really cool or the paintings are beautiful, whatever. and whatever the compliment is, i work it back to my date. everyone always eats that up.”
“i’m glad i’m here to keep you on your toes,” you tease.
“yeah, whatever,” hongjoong rolls his eyes. “what’s your move then?”
“it’s simple, really,” you assure him, turning to look directly in his eyes. “i just make sure to really look at whoever i’m talking to, really listen to what you’re saying, y’know? then i pull them in,” you say, grabbing hongjoong delicately by the chin and bringing his lips closer to yours. “and then i usually tell him something important, our lips barely touching. and then, if i’m feeling it and he hasn’t moved away, we kiss.”
“i’m not moving,” hongjoong says confidently, and you smile.
“i see that.”
“and we’re gonna be here for a while...”
“mhm.”
“so i think we should do something fun,” he says, pecking your lips quickly. he notes how you chase his lips as he pulls away, and he makes a proposition. “we could go into the backseat...”
“should we really have sex on the side of the road?”
“well what do you want me to suggest!” hongjoong whines. “we have nothing better to do, might as well try it out now!”
“wow, how romantic this man of mine is,” you joke, and hongjoong laughs. he’s still staring at you though, waiting for a response. “you really want to?”
“what did you think we would do when we got home?” he asks shyly. “i’m just trying to use our time wisely.”
“wow, really, if you’re trying to get me hot with all this talk-”
“baby,” he whines, kissing you once so quick you barely notice. “please. let’s at least go make out or something. it’s my birthday after all.”
“oh not fair,” you whine back. “you can’t pull the birthday card on me!”
“cmon baby, for my birthday?” he pouts again, finally getting you to crack.
“okay, but don’t look while i climb into the backseat, it’s gonna be awkward.”
“i’ll look as much as i want, it’s my birthday,” he says as you pull your way over the console. while you’re brushing aside his jacket from earlier, he takes this opportunity to caress and smack your ass, and you laugh a little at the sound of glee he makes in response.
“you are such a guy.”
“i’m your guy,” he says with a wink as you plop down in the backseat and reach for him quickly.
“move with a purpose please,” you urge, and he moves to join you as fast as he can. once he’s seated as close to you as he possibly can be, he pretends to yawn and puts his arm around your shoulder. you watch in fake disgust at the old school move but lay your head on his shoulder anyway. “hey.”
“hey.”
“so now what?” you ask, not moving from this very comfortable position. hongjoong hums in response, and you turn to place your chin on his shoulder and watch him as he thinks. he catches you off guard, kissing you before you even know it’s coming, and the sound of surprise has him letting out a laugh from deep within his chest.
“do you know how cute you are?” he asks.
“no, tell me.”
“i’ve always wanted to just wax poetic about about how everything you do drives me insane,” he starts, “and now i can. hope you’re ready for it love.”
now it’s your turn to steal a kiss, your heart swelling at hongjoong’s words. only this time neither of you pulls back, and what started off as innocent is quickly turning pg13. it registers in your mind for a moment that, wow, you’re in hongjoong’s car making out with your best friend, but that only makes your heart warm even more. you’ve wanted this moment for so long, you’ve wanted him for so long, and he’s finally here. he’s finally yours.
you’re pulled from your thoughts by hongjoong mumbling into your mouth that he wants you in his lap so you maneuver yourself to straddle his legs. before you settle back down he shakes his head, breaking from the kiss.
“no, not like that,” he tells you, lifting you up by the hips and placing you back down so you’re just straddling one leg. you don’t think anything of it at first, and you go back to kissing joong’s swollen lips. his hands stay on your hips, gripping tighter and tighter until you feel a change in pressure and you realize he’s guiding you to grind along his thigh. you take the hint and brace yourself on his shoulders, gasping as he bounces his leg under you.
“what’s wrong baby?” he asks in mock innocence. “don’t like it?” you just whine and shake your head, grinding down harder as hongjoong lets you set the pace. the layers of clothes between you are making this infinitely more frustrating, but hongjoong has captured your lips again and doesn’t seem to be interested in removing anything yet.
“joong,” you whisper between kisses. “need more.”
“what, can’t come like this?” he asks, and you shake your head. “too bad.”
he dives back into another kiss, his hands leaving your waist knowing that you’ll keep up the pace for him. instead he focuses on pulling your shirt up just enough to trace under your bra, and you moan into his mouth when he slides a finger under the fabric and just barely grazes your tit.
“you’re so sensitive,” he smiles. “i like that.”
“please baby, i need more,” you say again, and this time he gives in.
“fine,” he sighs. “get undressed.”
“will you help me?”
“so needy,” he complains, but helps you anyway. as you pull your shirt off, he works on undoing your pants. he cups your head so you don’t hit it on the ceiling as you raise up to slip your pants off, but before you can get rid of your panties honjoong is pulling you back down to his thigh. “that’s enough for now,” he decides, fingers tracing along the outline of your bra before trailing down to your panties. his hand dips to your core, finding the wet spot on the fabric and grinning. “man, you are sensitive. all this and we’ve barely started, baby.”
“are you gonna fuck me back here or do i have to keep getting off on your thigh?” you ask.
“hmm, you’ll come on my thigh and then we’ll see if you deserve to get fucked.”
“are you always this mean in bed?” you whine, and hongjoong chuckles in response.
“are you always this difficult? i said get off on my thigh,” he demands, and you don’t know if it’s the temperature of the car or his words that sends a chill down your spine. you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him once before you lock your hands and get back to work, grinding down on his tensed thigh. you’ve shifted slightly so now you can feel his boner nudging your leg with each roll of your hips, and you can tell hongjoong is holding back whimpers at the contact. he bounces his thigh again unexpectedly, giving you a jolt that sends your forehead crashing into his. you both start laughing, but even that slight movement has you shaking in his lap. you keep your forehead pressed to his as you move again, gasping at the feeling of his hand sliding from your waist down to ghost over your clothed clit.
“touch me,” you beg, eyes pleading, and hongjoong can’t deny you what you want when you’re asking so sweetly. he holds eye contact with you as his hand dips into your panties, collecting some of your arousal before connecting with your clit. you keep dragging your hips, doing most of the work but hongjoong helps by rotating little circles on your bundle of nerves, sending you closer to your high with each touch.
“that’s it baby, gonna come for me?” he asks and you can only nod. “need you to use your words.”
“yes baby, almost there,” you whine, hips moving faster to chase the feeling. hongjoong picks up speed rubbing into your clit, and his encouraging words help you come crashing down with a gasping breath. “need to do that again, need to make you feel good.”
“if you insist baby,” hongjoong says. “doing so good for me.”
“how do you want me?” you ask, lazily kissing his neck as you catch your breath. hongjoong squeezes your hips in response and helps you situate yourself so you’re sitting down next to him.
“i want you several ways,” he says with lust in his eyes. “not sure how i wanna start.”
“ok, you think and i’m gonna take a minute,” you tell him as you close your eyes and try to regulate your heartbeat back to a normal pace. being with hongjoong has your senses heightened, so even though it was a little orgasm you feel like you just ran a marathon. while you’re trying to remember how to breathe normally, you feel hongjoong nudging at your legs so you let him move you where he wants. your eyes remain closed, until you feel hongjoong’s lips kissing over your soiled panties and you gasp, sitting up and instinctively pushing him back. “get outta there!”
“baby i don’t know how this is gonna work if you’re saying shit like that,” he laughs, looking up at you through hooded eyes as he rubs your thighs to calm you down. “what’s wrong? want me to stop?”
“no, no,” you assure him. “i just. it surprised me a little. i still can’t believe this is happening. doesn’t feel real.”
“it’s very real baby,” he says, pulling your underwear to the side to start stroking your entrance. “can i try again?” you simply nod, a whimper threatening to escape. hongjoong lets his finger gather some of your slick before he’s pulling your panties harder, exposing your clit to his hungry gaze. he gets to work rubbing soft circles on it while his lips kiss up and down your thighs, making you squirm. you want more, but this is almost too much for you, so you don’t want to ask just yet. you just let your head fall back on the seat and let out a shaky breath, but hongjoong doesn’t like that. he stops all movement and slaps your thigh, sharply pulling your attention back to him. “nope, eyes on me the whole time my love. need you watching every move i make or i stop moving.”
“ok,” you agree, eyes meeting his. he looks like he’s ready to devour you, and as you hold eye contact with him he starts to do just that, his tongue replacing his hand on your clit. he starts with kitten licks that have you whining for more, and when he thinks you’ve had enough he swipes his tongue all the way down to your core.
“mmf, you’re the sweetest birthday cake i’ve ever had,” he mumbles into your pussy.
“ew hongjoong,” you laugh, and he literally growls into your core.
“it’s true,” he says, eyes meeting yours again. “i could eat you out every day for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
“promise?” you ask, getting cocky too soon because he moves back up to suck your clit and brings a finger back to your core, slipping it in quickly. he only pumps once or twice before he inserts another, curling them both to find your g spot. he’s frantic but in a practiced way, like he definitely knows what he’s doing but he can’t wait to feel every part of you, taste every part of you. he keeps making out with your clit and starts scissoring his fingers to open you up, and you let out a shriek at the new sensation.
“more of that baby,” he says, “let me hear you. there’s no one around to stay quiet for, let me know how good you feel.”
“it’s good hongjoong,” you tell him, hips bucking to meet the stroke of his hand. you’re stuffed with his fingers, his tongue on your clit, and it’s still not enough. “i want more. need more of you. need it all, baby.”
“no i wanna eat you out-”
“hongjoong!” you whine.
“y/n!” he whines back, but one look at you tells him he’s lost this fight. he licks from your core up to your clit one last time, swirling the nub for good measure and making you jolt. he sits up from his cramped position and huffs. “i don’t know how to get you where i want you for this.”
“fucking in the car was your idea,” you point out, and he groans, head falling against your thigh.
“just gimme a second,” he says and you groan. “patience baby.”
“let me at least see some of you,” you beg, grabbing for his pants and trying to undo the button. he lets you work him out of his pants as he thinks, and when you start cupping his bulge through his boxers his hand covers yours on instinct and guides you to touch him the way he likes, squeezing your hand over his balls and his hips buck in response.
“fuck,” he whispers, pulling you up as much as he can. “ok, you lay like this,” and he moves you to lean against the door with your hips up, and he pushes your legs to your chest. “hold these. now let me get my pants off.”
he finishes undressing rather awkwardly, and you have to laugh. a blush creeps up his neck as you giggle and pull him in for a kiss, mumbling about how cute he is. his demeanor breaks for a moment and he giggles back, sending you straight to the moon. hongjoong is yours. he feels the same way you do, and he’s about to show you how much you mean to him. he rolls a condom on quickly and climbs over you, pushing your legs further into your chest. he lines up with your entrance, eyes flicking up to yours to check that this is okay. you nod and blow him a kiss, and he’s smiling as he finally fills you up. his first full thrust leaves you with your mouth open in a silent moan but the next few thrusts pull the most pathetic whines from deep within your chest and hongjoong is eating it up.
“does it feel good baby?” and you can only nod, not sure words will come to you as he’s hitting your g spot and filling you so perfectly. he was made for you, and you know that now in this moment. he reaches up and plays with your tits, cupping them and flicking your nipples to earn himself extra moans from you in your fucked out state. all you can think of is hongjoong, all your senses filled with him and the way he’s making you feel. you come unexpectedly, moaning out his name so beautifully he almost comes with you. he slows down as you clench around him, trying to last longer to fully enjoy this moment. he leans down to kiss your chest, and you whisper his name to get his attention. he looks up at you delicately, and you smile in return.
“i love you,” you say so quiet you don’t know if he heard you. a smile spreads across his features as he kisses his way up your chest to your lips, kissing you sweetly.
“i love you too,” he says into your lips, brushing over them as he speaks. “you’re perfect, and i love you.”
“show me,” you encourage him, and he takes it as a challenge. his speed picks up out of nowhere, and you moan into his mouth as he captures your lips in another kiss. he helps you hold your legs in place, your arms falling to his waist as you try to pull him in closer. he’s fucking you so fast your head starts bumping against the door, but he quickly pulls you closer so you’re laying down completely and he’s hovering over you. the angle has him hitting you perfectly, and you reach down to rub your clit to come with him. you can tell he’s close, but he smacks your hand away, replacing it with his own. you wrap your free leg around his waist, keeping him close as he picks up speed on your clit.
“i’m gonna come baby, want you to come with me,” he says breathlessly.
“i don’t know if i can yet,” you whine, and he shakes his head.
“you can and you will. my baby can do anything,” he says, and you clench at his words. “see? you’re almost there baby, you can do it. count to three for me.”
“one,” you start off, and he slows his thrusts but keeps his pace on your clit. the change up has you seeing stars, and you almost forget you’re meant to be counting. “two.”
“good girl, come on, come with me-”
“three!” you shriek, a surprise burst of euphoria hitting you as you come. hongjoong came with you, groaning into your neck and sucking a hickey into what you assume will be a very visible spot tomorrow. he chuckles as he pulls back, appreciating the mess between your legs.
“when i said you could do anything i didn’t think it would make you squirt,” he says with a devilish grin. “made you feel that good, huh?”
“don’t be cocky,” you say, smacking his chest but shying away from his eyes nonetheless. “it was nice.”
“nice? baby i need us to do that every day. like a lot,”
“hongjoong!”
“y/n!”
“how am i supposed to clean this up,” you groan, changing the subject from hongjoong’s insatiable appetite.
“don’t, i like what you’ve done to the place.”
“you’re disgusting.”
“kidding,” he laughs, pecking the top of your head. “i’ve got a gym towel in the back, i hope that’s enough.”
“i hope it’s clean!”
“no promises!”
-
hongjoong cleans you (and the backseat) up to the best of his ability, and you spent some time pillow talking, laying on his chest with the sound of the rain in the background. eventually it dies down enough, and you’re able to convince hongjoong that no, you can’t just lie naked in his backseat for the rest of the night. so you’re finally on the way home, hongjoong driving extra careful but refusing to let go of your hand in his lap.
he took you back the long way so you could spend more time together, forgetting the turn to your house and instead taking the main road back to the frat. he starts to turn around, but you tell him it’s fine.
“i can just sleep there,” you tell him. “but this time you’re not taking the futon.”
“but won’t the bed shake too much if we fuck again?” he asks with a pout.
“you never quit do you,” you laugh, and he just shrugs.
“don’t hate the player hate the game.”
“i can hate both.”
“don’t,” he pouts, making the turn onto frat row. you both laugh at the first house, the obvious remnants of a party lingering in the yard. the rain destroyed whatever fun they were having, and now there’s just one sad dude passed out in the grass who’s definitely waking up with a cold and a hangover. hongjoong parks in his usual spot in front of his frat, and he rushes out of the car to open your door for you. you start to remind him of his presents in the trunk when he kisses you, halting your train of thought. his lips distract you so much you almost forget it’s actively raining on you right now, and you squeal into his mouth to get him to stop.
“baby we’re getting soaked,” you cry and he just locks you in tighter, kissing you again. “mmf, joong, we’ll get sick,” you try again, and he doesn’t listen. at this point your clothes are drenched, so is it worth still fighting? but you take your final shot, promising him no more sex until his next birthday. you watch him move with a quickness you’ve never seen before, grabbing his gifts from the back and covering them with a jacket before he starts running toward the house, leaving you behind. you laugh as you run to catch up to him, watching as he hops from foot to foot trying to unlock the door with his gifts still in his arms. you gently take the keys and unlock the door for him, earning a quick “thanks babe!” and then he ducks inside. you follow him into the living room and who do you see but seonghwa and san sitting on the couch watching a movie. seonghwa watches in disgust as you both track wet footprints on his clean floor, and san smirks as he notices the dopey look on both of your faces.
“had a nice brithday bro?” san asks, and hongjoong nods.
“took you a long time to get home,” seonghwa points out and you clear your throat.
“we, uh, well, i got scared actually, and made him pull over,” you try to explain, but your cheeks heating up give you away.
“likely story,” seonghwa sighs. “go take a shower before you both get sick, i’m not taking care of two cry babies.”
“yeah don’t come upstairs for a while man,” hongjoong says as he starts pulling you toward the stairs.
“dude, gross!” seonghwa shouts. “i’m moving out.”
“but then you’ll miss us too much,” you tease, shooting him a wink as hongjoong pulls you away. you both giggle as seonghwa grumbles about never sleeping here again, and hongjoong stops you at the top of the steps to kiss you for the millionth time today.
“i can’t get enough of that,” he says with a smile. “of you. can’t believe it took us this long.”
“me neither.”
“you’re never getting rid of me now, you know that right?”
“ditto.”
#hongjoong#kim hongjoong#kim hongjoong smut#hongjoong smut#ateez#ateez hongjoong#ateez kim hongjoong#kim hongjoong fluff#hongjoong fluff#kim hongjoong one shot#hongjoong one shot#kim hongjoong fanfic#hongjoong fanfic#ateez smut#ateez fluff#ateez fanfic
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Getting to know you tag game
Kiitos and tack to @sflow-er for tagging me! This was fun. Going to answer all my questions below. Maybe people will learn something new about me.
Do you make your bed?
No. It’s a loft bed so it’s sort of difficult to make, and no one sees it so there’s minimal incentive to do much with it. I mostly prefer to sleep in a nest of blankets.
What's your favourite number?
Nine. Odd numbers are fun and it’s three threes.
What is your job?
I don’t like to talk about it on tumblr, but it’s something in the education sector.
If you could go back to school, would you?
I am technically back at school at present, since I’m in a graduate program in writing part time. Honestly, I could just study forever and get paid to do so, without much extra strings attached, I would just go to university forever and major in a thousand different things while studying a thousand more.
Can you parallel park?
I cannot even drive, as it happens.
A job you had that would surprise people?
I used to work catering at my college, where I learned a lot about how to chop and prepare different vegetables and similar. The best thing about working catering was getting to take home leftovers. Also, chopping vegetables is a generally soothing thing for me to do when my anxiety is getting the better of me.
Do you think aliens are real?
Sure! Visiting earth seems unlikely (I mean why would you) but scientifically they have to be out there. I used to tell my mother I was an alien when I was a teenager.
Can you drive a manual car?
See above re: parallel parking. I think I’d be a lot more successful with a question about navigating city bus routes.
What's your guilty pleasure?
Hmm as I get older I am increasingly of the opinion that describing pleasures as “guilty” is something I’m too old and tired to do. Like, it would truly be not good for me to put food in this category. There’s also definitely favorite movies and books I have that I view with a cautious, critical eye (Lawrence of Arabia and Jane Eyre, for instance) but I don’t know if “critical consumption” and “indulging in guilty pleasures” are the same things. And I refuse to feel guilty for being an August and sargust enjoyer.
Like… I don’t know. Doll collecting? Is that a guilty pleasure? I currently wish my doll collection was making less a mess in my apartment.
Tattoos?
Not for me, but I’m glad for the people who like theirs.
Favourite colour?
Green, generally. For wearing, green again, as well as yellow and blue. (Or as I like to call them together, deconstructed green.)
Favourite type of music?
Gosh, hmm. I was going to say folk and progressive bluegrass, because a lot of stuff I like fits into that category already. (Nickel Creek, Punch Brothers, Sarah Jarosz, Aoife O’Donavan, I’m With Her, Rhiannon Giddens, Jake Blount, etc.) If the songs are murder ballads or songs about shipwrecks or whatever (shout out to “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” on the Punch Brothers album Hell on Church Street) all the better. I also realize I like a lot of music with classical/orchestral influences, but not necessarily like… traditionally classical. Today I’ve been listening to Kishi Bashi’s Omoiyari album on repeat and thinking about how Marigolds would make a great song for an ensemble YR fanvid.
I think my favorites will always be the artists who are absolute nerds for music and who will play with genre about it.
Do you like puzzles?
I don’t think I like puzzles, like they’re not always something I seek out, but I promise you that if you put a jigsaw puzzle or a logic puzzle in front of me I will hyperfixate until I figure it out. So I guess I like them.
Any phobias?
Mice. They like to come into my apartment when it’s cold. I would prefer they don’t.
Favourite childhood sport?
Gym class was the bane of my existence, but I also come from a sporty family, so I could kind of tolerate basketball for my athletic mother’s sake.
Do you talk to yourself?
Absolutely. When I was getting my neuropsych evaluation, the evaluator noticed that I was always talking myself through tasks in order to get them done. This is apparently what you need to do when you score 99th percentile on verbal intelligence but 2nd percentile on things like task initiation and executive function.
What movies do you adore?
I tend to be more of a TV and documentaries person than a movies person right now. That said, Greta Gerwig’s Little Women and the 2005 Pride and Prejudice are good comfort watches, as is Pixar’s Luca. I really like the Georgian movie And Then We Danced.
Coffee or tea?
Tea. Specifically, green tea. Coffee is yummy (I like bitter things sometimes) but doesn’t play well with my health.
What was the first thing you wanted to be growing up?
I wanted to be a writer pretty early. That said, the earliest written record I have of “what do you want to be when you grow up” was a first grade assignment where we had to answer that question. The two jobs I named were teacher and artist, specifically an artist who paints murals. (I misspelled the word “mural” because in the Baltimore accent I grew up with, mural is essentially one slurred syllable. Make me say Aaron earned an iron urn, I dare you.)
No pressure tags to: whoever wants them! I have not been on tumblr much lately so I don’t know who’s done this already.
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Fluff
Teen Wolf (tv show)
Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
✨🌻✨
Peter stood tall, hands fisted at his sides. He stood still, straight, locked to tightly together that one would not notice the fine tremble in his knees, for the way his hands would shake if he let his fists open.
No one bar stiles, who stood in front of him tears on his cheeks and venom on his tongue. An ache in his heart.
The boy had yelled, raged, cried and spat at the older man. Not for any misgivings, not for any ill feelings but for the way he loved the man. Craved his heat to brush against pale skin, wished so heavily to be loved and kissed and tenderly held but had only received biting sarcasm and dismissal.
He felt bruised and bereft. Felt like forgotten laundry on an abandoned line.
Stiles, the boy too sharp and stuffed to the brim with wit and challenge. The boy who bared his teeth like a wolf and snarled and snapped just as viscously with blunt claws. He was all Peter ever wanted, but never thought he’d have. Didn’t think he deserved.
He was mad, crazy, out of it when he offered the matin bite. But it was a choice he never regretted. The only thing he grieved was that he was turned down.
“You, I crave you. I long for you.” Peter bares his teeth even know, fangs peaking and glinting in the pale light of the lofts over head lights. “My heart yearns for you, and my wolf begs for you. Everyday I wake alone, without your scent and without your heat. I look upon you and I see everything I want, everything I do not deserve. I have lusted for you since the first time I smelt you, I have loved you since the first time you challenged me. I love you now, do not ever question that.”
Stiles stiffens, back straight and face uncharacteristically blank. His heart is hammering in his chest, his scent is filled with anxiety and hope, fear and excitement.
“You are a pain in my hide, the bane of my existence and yet, the object of my affections. I envy those who get to touch you freely, and the bed you sleep in. I envy the air you breath and the water you shower under. I envy the existence of everything that crosses your path and steals your attention form me and I hate everything that gets to exist in your presence without feeling guilt.”
Peter’s eyes are closed now, tightly screwed together and he bites his own tongue to cut off anymore confession. His wolf bristles, lengthens it’s claws and begs to be free to hold their mate. He will not allow it. He cannot.
Stiles is on him in a heart beat, long pale hands gently cradling his face. He pulls the wolf down to him forcefully so that he can slam their lips together and pour his heart out upon Peter’s tongue. Breath his love into Peter’s lungs and write it into the others skin with his hands and teeth. He isn’t as good with words as his wolf, but his actions speak louder, clearer than he can ever say.
#peter hale#stiles stilinski#teen wolf#teen wolf fic#steter#Peter/stiles#cute#just a little trouble bubble
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Bunny and Beau are one of my favorite couples, could you please do a drabble with them crossing another milestones after confessions and buying their first farm babies.? Their Proposal or them finding out about them expecting their sweet Birdie Mae or they telling their parents about the baby?
Oh my goodness!! Beau and Bunny are the most precious thing in the world. They were almost painfully slow. Everything they did was SLOW. They renovated the cabin slow, built their farm slow, started dating slow. But one thing they knew...they found their one. Let's go to the moment that Beau wanted Bunny as his wife...
🖤🖤🖤🖤
I Love Us
Summary: Arleigh Grace Everett-Levinson
Pairings: Beau X Bunny
Rating: 🥹🥹
Warnings: none, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 800
Desperate Lives AU Masterlist
Beau Adler Masterlist
Beau watches his girlfriend of two years say her goodbyes to all her fur babies. Their farm had grown, and with it, his love for her. Nothing had changed, except the way he felt about Arleigh was stronger.
Everything with her was so simple, fun, sunny, warm, bright, loving, caring, and new. Everything he was so sure he didn’t want. And now he can’t imagine life without that little sunny Bunny. Even that smirk she gives him, as she turns around to look at him in their loft bed.
Beau gives her a smile, and looks down at the floor. Finishing picking up their clothes, and his hand goes into his pocket. Running over that small box, filled with a promise. He can’t remember a time he felt more complete and fulfilled. Life was good.
He walks down the stairs, stopping only to tap his leg for his other girl in his life to bound over, “Is thou going to be a good rider, thee fair lady Remington?” Remy gives him a solid bark. Wagging her tail she trots after him. Walking alongside of him to say goodbye to the animals.
“Bye my fair ladies. I shall miss thee. But you two…maybe dad can,” he begins teasing the goats.
“Beaumont Franklin Adler, you better leave Rosemary and Dill alone.”
“They are heathens, Bun! The bane of my existence. Look at them,” he points at the goats who just stare back. “Pure evil geniuses. They’ve got you fooled Bunny.”
She giggles at him, reminding all her babies that Frank and her daddy would be by throughout the next two weeks to feed them, before the three of them load up in the van. Remy calmly sitting in her bed as they head out on the road to wherever.
Every summer since they first met, this has become the tradition. Wanting to eventually visit all fifty states.
Beau grabs ahold of Arleigh’s hand, and she sticks her other out the window. Letting her hand weave through the wind. Everything with Arleigh is so simple. So right. So perfect. And Beau is worried he’s not going to be able to wait. He knows he’s made her wait a lot. And they’ll continue to wait. He needs everything perfect.
Saving had become his goal. Saving for one day they can travel the world as they pleased. Saving so they here wouldn’t have to work as hard when they have children. Being able to spend more time with them.
“Bunny?” she looks at him with a dreamy smile, and he loses his nerves again. “You want kids?”
“Eventually. This isn’t an invitation is it? I don’t want to make babies on this trip, B.”
“No,” he chuckles. “Not an invitation. Just wanted to clarify.”
“We’ve talked about this,” her body twists so she can look at him. His eyes on the road, and the background music of ‘Landslide’ plays in the background. “B is everything okay?”
“Fine.”
“You’re getting all flustered and sweaty. What…you want kids, right?”
“Eventually,” he answers flatly.
“Beau, pull over I’m about to be sick.”
Pulling over to the side of the road, Arleigh jumps out quickly and slowly breathes. “What is this? You’re acting weird. If we’re breaking up, just…do it now, don’t,” her voice shrill and scared to say more.
“Arleigh Grace…”
“Beau, I’m not going on vacation with you, just so you can end things,” she pauses quickly when he gets down on one knee, holding up that custom ring set. “Beau,” her voice whispers.
“Arleigh Grace Everett-Levinson, will you marry me. These past two years…Bunny I can’t get enough. I don’t want to see if there’s others out there because it’s just you and me. I have never wanted anything more in my life than you by my side. You make loving fun. I don’t have to try to be anybody but me.”
Arleigh stands frozen with tears in her eyes, unable to look at anything but the handsome man on his knee for her.
“I was gonna wait, but you started freaking out.”
“You were acting weird.”
“Because I was thinking how I wanted this to go, and this wasn’t it but…”
“Beau,” her voice whispers getting on her knees as well, “it was perfect. Yes, I will marry you. I don’t care if we have to wait another ten years, have a big wedding, or have a private wedding at the cabin. As long as you’re the one marrying me. I love you Beaumont Adler.”
“And Lady Remington?”
“I love her, I love our life, I love us,” Beau pulls out the delicate little ring and slides it over her finger, and her body launches towards him. Knocking him down to the ground, and peppers kisses all over him.
“I love us, too.”
Masterlist
#desperate lives#desperate lives au#desperate verse#da au#dau#da au request#beau adler#arleigh everett levinson#beau adler x arleigh everett levinson#beau x arleigh#beau x bunny
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New Girl Hogwarts AU Chapter 3: Ginny’s Visit
A/N: I don’t love this chapter, it’s more to show some of the pairings and get George and the reader closer. Also, this is based off of a New Girl episode. Most of this fic will be based off of the first two seasons. I’ll try to combine multiple episodes in the next chapter if you guys don’t mind it feeling a bit rushed? Otherwise I can write them out individually.
Pairing: George Weasley x (Fem!)reader
Warning: Cursing, sexually suggestive? Idk we’re still PG-13 for now
Word Count: ~3.5k
Series Masterlist
“Hey can you come pick me up? I don’t think I’m sober enough to apparate right now.” Ginny asked immediately after Y/N picked up the phone.
“What about that guy you were seeing? The one that takes his shirt off too much, whatever his name is. Why can’t he take you home?” Y/N asked, getting out of bed and slipping shoes on quickly. She figured she might already know the answer.
“He’s an ASSHOLE that keeps flirting with other girls. I just caught him making out with some bitch in the club-”
“No other bitch, just you! You’re my bitch!”
“Viktor, that doesn’t mean what you think it means, you absolute blubbering idiot.” Y/N could hear the two of them arguing through the speaker of her slightly cracked iPhone 4. She rolled her eyes as she grabbed her keys for the loft.
“Where are you? I’m coming.”
“The Golden Snitch. That new one in diagon.” Y/N rolled her eyes. All of those lame ass quidditch lovers ended up at that club. She knew her best friend played professionally, but she couldn’t help but think about the fact that some of those quidditch players didn’t have a personality outside of the sport.
“I’ll be there in two shakes,” before Y/N could finish her old phrase, she was cut off by George entering her room and speaking.
“You bloody American, would you please stop using old farmer’s phrases?”
“Do you mind, like, knocking?” Y/N rolled her eyes as she turned his way.
“Oh you mean like how you totally DIDN’T a few weeks ago?”
“Oh my god, I DID knock, it’s not my fault you BLAST your music!”
“Will you two shut the fuck up and get a room?” Ginny interrupted the bickering.
“Actually we’re in a room, sister dear.”
“I don’t think that’s the quip you think it is.” Ginny laughed, definitely better at teasing her brother than a decade ago.
“Whatever, what the fuck do you want anyway?” George asked, getting closer to Y/N and her phone.
“See, this is why I NEVER call you for help,” Ginny grunted.
“I’m picking her up from the Golden Snitch and taking her home.” Y/N interrupted the argument just waiting to happen between the siblings.
“Actually, can I stay at your place? Viktor’s shit is at my place and I’d really rather not see him.”
“Yeah that’s fine,” Y/N said at the same time George spoke.
“Absolutely not.”
“George, give your sister a break. Can you please go make sure the couch is made up for her and that the guys aren’t naked when I’m back?” Y/N asked George.
“No promises,” George winked before exiting the room.
“God I swear I can HEAR the sexual tension between you two.” Ginny mumbled.
“Gross, Gin, that’s your brother you’re talking about. Anyway, I’ll be there in like three minutes.” Y/N hung up, and in the blink of an eye she was in diagon alley, walking quickly toward the club playing the Weird Sisters. It was a matter of minutes before Y/N found her way towards the DJ’s booth where Ginny was arguing with Viktor. She was about ready to hex him, or the DJ he had apparently made out with, when Y/N decided to intervene.
“Ginerva darling, I’m here, let’s go home.” Y/N grabbed Ginny’s hand, ready to drag her out of the club. As they walked away Y/N could hear Ginny whisper a hex, and the ensuing shriek from Viktor. Soon they made it to the apparition spot where Ginny side-alonged Y/N to just outside the loft door.
“Why do you guys have protection charms again? What year is this, 1886?”
“I literally live with the chosen one. I feel like that’s justification enough.” Y/N rolled her eyes, mumbling a few spells to disarm the hexes as she unlocked the door with her key. They stumbled into the loft, where, unsurprisingly, Draco stood in just his underwear, Harry without a shirt, George sat on the couch with a beer in hand, and Neville sat with a plant in his lap.
“GEORGE!” Y/N yelled over the argument Draco and Harry were having. He looked over at her and shrugged.
“What can you really do with these guys, ya know?” Y/N flipped him off before pulling the grown men apart.
“Get a room lovers.” Y/N rolled her eyes pushing them apart as she shooed George and Neville off the couch and started making a bed for Ginny.
“LOVERS? God, it’s like you don’t even know us.” Draco shouted, clearly fuming at Harry for...reasons unknown.
“Draco, babe, it’s called sarcasm.” Y/N said as she tucked a sheet around the couch cushions.
“Hey Gin,” Harry pulled her in for a side hug as Ginny turned pink. A childhood crush that never seemed to go anywhere still seemed to bother Ginny. Ginny returned the side hug, and then started taking off her shoes.
“I feel like you’re about half naked every time I see you.” Draco remarked to Ginny, who had a black minidress on, as he sat down on the side of the couch Y/N wasn’t making into a bed. Y/N smacked him.
“Awfully bold of you to say when you’re only in your knickers.” Ginny quipped, rolling her eyes.
“Potter, control your girlfriend.”
“PARDON?” Ginny yelled as Y/N hit his chest again.
“Malfoy, I will actually sectumsempra your ass again.” Harry said, coming up behind Draco to smack the side of his head.
“ANYWAY...you’re making me sleep on the couch?” Ginny asked, plopping down on the unfinished bed Y/N had been in the middle of making.
“Um, yeah, Gin. You steal the covers and we live in a loft. You could say it’s a bit,” Y/N giggled to herself before finishing the joke. “Lofty in here.”
“I hate it here.” Said Harry.
“Literally get out.” Unsurprisingly, from Draco.
“Oh, Merlin, yeah that was pretty bad Y/N.” Neville spoke gently.
“George, oh my god, are you laughing at that?” Ginny accused.
“What? No! Puns are the bane of my existence.” George said, clearly trying to stifle his giggles.
“Bad jokes aside, I hate this couch. It’s got a permanent dip in it from when George didn’t get up off of it for like, a week, when you showed him that one muggle show.” Ginny said
“Friends is so much more than a muggle show.” George hissed.
“George, every year without your far funnier twin your sense of humor gets significantly worse.” Draco said without looking up from his phone. George tensed as Y/N once again smacked Draco on the chest.
“You’re awfully moody tonight, yeah?” Y/N whispered angrily at Draco.
“Sorry, just shit going on at work.”
“You mean how your work wife is engaged?”
“Shut the fuck-”
“You know you could just...tell her how you feel?” Y/N suggested as she plopped down in between George and Draco.
“He’s a man, he’ll never do that. I bet he’ll do something dramatic like sabotage the wedding instead.” At that, Draco looked up from his phone and over to Ginny with a grin.
“Maybe one of the Weasley’s are intelligent afterall.” Draco smirked.
“Don’t do that.” Y/N said, hoping that Draco wouldn’t ruin the only other friendship she had outside of the people in the loft.
“No promises. Anyway, I still have time to break them up.” Which made everyone in the loft groan.
“Can I complain about sleeping on the couch again? When is someone going to offer me their bed?” Ginny said, glaring Y/N down.
“You can sleep in my bed.” Harry said, sitting on the floor staring at his phone. Ginny turned pink.
“In my own house? Oh my,” George giggled, but stopped after Ginny glared at him. Harry looked up.
“We practically grew up together. It’s fine.” He shrugged, although Y/N noticed a hint of a blush in his cheeks as well. Y/N found herself smirking.
“Yeah George, they’re grown ups. Grown ups can share a bed platonically.” She said, hinting at him to drop it. He smirked as well, nodding.
--
The next morning, Y/N arose to hear rushed whispers in the living room. She cracked her door, knowing that if she entered the conversation would likely stop.
“I’m IN!!”
“Dude, holding her hand is not ‘in.’”
“Whatever, you’re just mad because you’ve never held H-”
“Don’t finish that.” Draco warned.
Y/N tip-toed out to the kitchen where the two were chatting.
“You DO like her!! You big idiot!!” Y/N whispered, scaring Harry at the sudden appearance.
“How am I a big idiot? We shared a bed last night, I made a move!”
“That girl has had a crush on you since she was like ten! You call sharing a bed making a move? The right move to make would be, like, confessing your love for her or something.” Y/N sighed, moving over to the coffee pot of which only she used.
“Whatever, at least I can pick up on signals.” Harry mumbled.
“What is THAT supposed to mean?” Y/N said, turning around to face him quickly.
“Oh nothing, other than that George totally likes you.” Draco chipped in.
“He does not! Did he say that to you?” Y/N stopped, her heart dropping. Her stomach had a weird feeling she couldn’t quite place.
“No, but he doesn’t need to. It’s in the body language. Besides, puns really used to be the absolute bane of his existence. He and Fred were quite high and mighty with their senses of humor.” Harry shrugged.
“I’m sorry, do you call pranking high and mighty?”
“What about pranking?” George said, strolling into the room, his hair a mess and wearing the same clothes from yesterday.
“Nothing.” Draco, Harry, and Y/N unisoned.
“Good morning sunshine.” Y/N grinned as Ginny walked into the room looking an even bigger mess than George.
“Sleeping beauty.” Draco chimed.
“Shut the fuck up. You, don’t.” Ginny said, stopping Harry before he could join in the teasing.
“Well George, it must be nice to know the messy sleeping runs in the family.” Y/N said, gesturing to his hair.
“What? What are you talking about?” George furrowed his brow, reaching up to fix his hair and making it worse.
--
“Do you think my ass looks good in leggings?”
“Are you joking? Of course it does, I wish my ass looked like yours.” Y/N replied to Ginny. She sighed, thinking about what Harry and Draco said to her earlier. “Do you think George…” Y/N drifted off, deciding she didn’t really want to ask anymore.
“Has a crush on you? Absolutely.”
“See, what the fuck? I don’t see it.”
“That’s because you’re absolutely terrible at picking up signals. Remember that last time we went to the club and a guy kept buying you drinks and then you were SURPRISED when he asked you to dance with him?”
“That’s different. I don’t like dancing with strangers!”
“Sure, but you were surprised, Y/N.” Ginny gave Y/N a pointed look, to which Y/N sighed.
“Anyway, no one will ever known, because George doesn’t share his feelings with anyone ever.”
“Just try and pick up on his body language. You know, if he points his feet to you or whatever.” Ginny said, staring at her phone with a furrowed brow. “Thank God, Viktor is moving his shit out of my place as we speak. I might be out of here by tomorrow.” Ginny turned and grinned at Y/N.
“Hey,” George said, once again walking right into Y/N’s room and plopping down on her bed.
“Seriously, do we just not knock here anymore?”
“Well, we’ve seen each other naked, so honestly what’s the point?” George offered, to which Y/N rolled her eyes.
“I’m sorry, what? What did I miss?” Ginny said, tossing her phone onto the bed next to George.
“One time-”
“No, it’s not important, it wasn’t in a sexual way, it’s loft shit. We don’t talk about loft shit to outsiders.” Y/N said, not wanting to recount the story.
“Outsiders? I’m your best friend!”
“Well, you don’t live here.” George shrugged.
“I’m literally your sister!”
“I’m sorry, what does that have to do with the loft? You still don’t live here.” George smirked at her. She screamed and stormed out of Y/N’s room. “Anyway, want to go to the market with me? I need a few things and I’m quite tired of going on my own.” He perched himself up on his elbows to look at Y/N and something about the position he was in on her bed made her feel...some type of way.
“I-- I don't need anything, though.” Y/N said, now wanting to avoid George.
“Can you go and pick me up some tampons? I think you’re out.” Ginny poked her head back into the room, smirking at Y/N.
“You bitch.” Y/N mouthed at Ginny. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll go with.” Y/N announced, looking quickly over at George.
--
Ginny walked around the loft with just her bra and leggings on, as she would in her own apartment.
“Merlin, woman, put some clothes on.” Neville said, covering his eyes with one hand from the couch, covering a leaf on his plant with his other hand.
“Or don’t, I’m starting to appreciate the divine femme energy you’ve got going on.” Draco smirked, practically staring right at Ginny’s boobs.
“Malfoy, I swear to-”
“What, Potter? Don’t like me hitting on your girlfriend?”
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll kiss you.”
“You’ll wha-” before Draco could finish his question, Harry grabbed the back of Draco’s head and left a wet kissed on his lips.”You know, I could’ve gone my whole life without doing that.” Draco mumbled, rubbing his lips on his arm. Ginny stared at the three men in the apartment, rather confused.
“I’m confused,” Ginny said.
“Why?” Harry said, looking over at her.
“Are you guys actually gay?” Ginny whispered, as if it was offensive to ask.
“No, it’s just loft shit. You wouldn’t get it.” Harry shrugged.
“Yeah you wouldn’t get it.” Draco grinned at her. Ginny, in confusion, looked to Neville for an explanation.
“No offense Ginny, but you wouldn’t. It’s just kind of weird here.” Neville shrugged at her.
--
Y/N found herself staring at George’s feet the entire time they were shopping for groceries. He did point his feet at her a lot. But did that actually mean anything?
“Hey, I asked you a question! Where are you today?” George furrowed his brow, waving a hand in front of Y/N’s face.
“Sorry, what?” She kept glancing between George’s face and his feet. She moved around, and his feet would follow her as he continued to face her no matter where she moved.
“You’re acting weird. Anyway didn’t Ginny need something?”
“Oh yeah, I’ll just go get the tampons. I’ll find you later.” Y/N sighed in relief as she was able to quickly get away from George. Why was she so uncomfortable suddenly? She couldn’t decide how she would feel if George did have feelings for her. Her stomach had a weird feeling again. She hadn’t really ever felt this way. She was warm.
“Oh my god.” She said, staring at the tampon boxes. “Am I blushing?” She raised her hands to her face, feeling how warm her cheeks were. “Oh my god.” She whispered to herself. She grabbed a random box from in front of her and stormed off to where George was. She tossed the box angrily into the basket.
“Woah, sassy pants. What’s got your knickers in a twist?” George asked.
“Nothing.” She furrowed his brow at him. “They were just out of the brand I usually get.” She felt herself staring him down. He looked down at the basket to escape her pointed look.
“Super max?”
“I have wide set hips.”
“I believe they call those birthing hips.”
“Who is ‘they?’”
“I don’t know. It was a joke.”
“I know, I’m pointing out the flaw in your joke.”
“Ouch?”
--
“Can one of you make me a sandwich?” Ginny was staring at her phone, now wearing spandex shorts with her bra. It was like the boys had turned on the heat so she would strip (which they had, but she didn’t need to know that).
“On it.” Draco said, quickly stopping what he was doing (drooling over her legs) as he rushed off to the kitchen.
“No, you know I’m a better cook than you.” Harry rushed off after Draco. Ginny giggled to herself. She liked having men chasing after her, and thought this game was kind of fun. It was like a game of who needed to get laid more.
“You know, what you’re doing isn’t very nice, Gin.”
“Neville, when did anyone ever use the word ‘nice’ to describe me?”
--
“Flowers for sale! Two for one dollar!”
“Oh that’s so cute, here, do you want a flower?” George offered, not waiting for an answer from Y/N as she crossed her arms and started shaking her legs as she did when she was uncomfortable. She started to spiral when he handed her the roses. She stared at them, wondering what they meant.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I know, but I like to support small businesses.” He shrugged, his feet weren’t pointed towards hers anymore. Maybe he didn’t like her like that. Maybe she was overthinking this.
“Oh, good point, I guess.” He giggled and pointed his toe.
“Good POINTE, right?”
“I--what?”
“You’re a dancer, right? I’m on pointe.” He giggled, continuing to walk towards the apartment. Y/N felt uncomfortable again. She mentioned it once in passing that she did ballet as a kid. Her stomach hurt again. She felt tears start to well in her eyes.
“I-I...I’ve gotta go!” She said suddenly, running off in the opposite direction of their apartment. George furrowed his brow, confused at Y/N’s odd behavior.
--
“Ginny,” Y/N burst into the door, out of breath. She had clearly been running. “I’m confused.” She looked up and became more confused when she saw Ginny was getting pampered by Draco and Harry. “I...what did I miss?”
“There you are! I looked for you everywhere! You can’t just run off like that, what are you, insane?” George stormed into the apartment. He noticed dried tear trails on Y/N’s face and dropped what he was saying. He looked towards Ginny and the guys and furrowed his brow. “What the fuck, guys?”
“How did this happen?” Y/N asked, gesturing to Draco who seemed to be giving Ginny a facial as Harry rubbed her feet.
“I don’t really remember.” Harry sighed.
“Ginny, get up.” Y/N was ready to lecture her. Ginny sighed and stood up.
“Thanks mum and dad, you two really have to ruin everything.” She sassed. George and Y/N looked at each other with wide eyes. George smirked suddenly.
“Ginny, don’t I recall hearing that Viktor is moving out? Why don’t you give him a call and see if he’s done.” George grinned, trying to expedite the process of getting Ginny out of the loft. Y/N giggled, looking at George’s side profile. He looked back over and nodded his head back towards his room. Or maybe her room, she couldn’t tell, their rooms too close together.
She followed him into his bedroom. He sat down on the bed as she closed the door and stood right by it.
“You were a bit weird today.”
“The guys and Gin were messing with me and...I don’t know. I had my knickers in a twist.”
“Oh finally, a british phrase. There we go, America.” He smiled at her. She offered a half smile. “I’d like to think that I’m your best friend next to Ginny, so you don’t have to be so weird around me.” Y/N’s heart sank. Best friends, that’s what they were.
“Yeah, you’re right. I was just surprised when you mentioned the dance thing, I guess. I’m not used to anyone other than Ginny remembering things about me.”
“Yikes, you must have awfully bad taste in men, and friends.” George pointed his head towards the direction of their living room, laughing.
“Yeah, you could say that.” She rolled her eyes, laughing, too. “I’m glad I have you. I guess. Don’t let that get to your head.”
“I would never.” George smiled.
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May 6th - Lyn's Writing Event - Thorin
Prompt - Childhood Neighborhood
A/N: Holy shit these settings are almost over! Nooooo don't let it end! Seriously, this has been a blast! Partially based off of me bringing Cory home the first time...
Summary: Thorin has arrived in our world and accompanies you to your childhood home to meet your parents.
Warnings:
He had seen you nervous before, but you'd always had a handle on it. Packing had been a nightmare. You were pacing and obviously couldn't think straight as you ran between rooms collecting way too much for the weekend trip to your parents. You were muttering to yourself and he was surprised by how insane you looked, running back and forth.
"Should we pack snacks for the ride?" You call from the kitchen. "It's only a couple hours away, but you know, in case?"
Thorin frowns, becoming nervous himself at how chaotic you were. "Grab something for you. I will be fine." He'd easily gotten his things around for the trip. Easily. Quickly. Efficiently... This was a train wreck, as you would call it.
When he'd finally coaxed you into the car you bit your lip, not turning the key in the ignition as you hesitate. "Y/N, we don't have to visit them if you're uncomfortable." He can visibly see the racing of your pulse in your neck.
"Okay," you start firmly and turn in your seat. "I'll give you the run down of my family." You're staring at him, more intensely than he's ever witnessed and its unnerving. "I have never brought anyone home before. Ever. Ever. Okay?" Thorin nods slowly. This was going to be a big deal to you then.
"I can handle that."
"My mom is going to be all over you. She's weird and wants to be liked. Expect her to say weird things and get in your space. My brothers, that should be a breeze. They'll probably try to give you a hard time because you're quite a bit older than I am. They're annoying shitheads with big egos." Thorin cracks a smile, adoring the nervous preparing you were giving him, your words blending from your fast speech. "My dad," you croak as if in pain and he sees your eyes beginning to water, "my dad is the bane of my existance. He has no filter. At all. And he enjoys making people squirm. Expect him to say some... Horrible things at my expense." Thorin was now a little nervous himself, but mostly amused by your reaction.
"I can stay here if you desire."
"No, no. I'm not worried about them not liking you. I'm worried about them behaving themselves around you."
"I will not think ill of you." He grips your hand on your lap and you let out a sigh of relief. While you were still nervous, you weren't mad with it.
He could handle this. The next hiccup didn't come until you had arrived at the great big house with a worn dirt drive. You narrowed your eyes on the garage, something askew to you. "That's weird. There are no cars." The land was flush with gardens and trees and greenery. It was calm and peaceful as you parked. Cicadas, as you called them, were buzzing loudly.
He watches as you pull out your phone, and lift it to your ear. He can vaugely hear a woman pick up. "Hey, ma. Thorin and I are home. Are you guys here?" You ask. There is an answer and your eyes bug in exhasperation. "What do you mean? Coldwater is like two hours away! I though you guys were going to be here!" Thorin smirks at you, amused to see you deflate. "Well when are you going to be back?"
He could see your frustration and felt sympathy for you. He could see where some of your 'planning' side came from. If your family was this whimsy with plans than he could understand why you always felt the need to have a plan.
You turn to find him grinning at you. "Alright, alright. I'll see you guys when you get here. Love you too. Bye." And you hung up the phone before turning to Thorin, nostrils flaring as you give a close mouthed scream of frustration. "My parents left cause my mom wanted to go look at a car in coldwater. Let's just unpack the car and go inside."
Thorin nodded and followed in behind you. Gazing around in amusement at the different themes that liter the house. He was curious to know how you grew up and this was greatly expanding that curiousity. Your childhood home! How nice! You lead him upstairs, calming a barking dog that wiggled excitedly at the both of you before moving into a room.
"This is my old room. Enter at your own risk." He gazes about, surprised to see the bookshelves lined with books and a large lofted bed, a desk and computer underneith. He sets his things down while you toss your bag up on the bed. And he begins to gaze over the titles on the shelf. There are a couple missing titles and he reaches for it.
"No, no! I would recommend not looking at the sketchbooks!" You laugh nervously. "I'm not the greatest artist."
"I was unaware that you drew," he murmurs.
"I used to. Haven't had time lately." He could see the burning of your cheeks. "Nothing that interesting in them, ya know." He arches an eyebrow at you.
"Somehow, I doubt that." He doesn't miss your mischevious smile.
It's quickly gone when the dog begins to howl and you dart to the window. Horror fills your face. "Oh no! My grandpa's here." You fly to the door. "Oh no! Oh no!" Thorin frowns.
"Stay here! Don't touch anything!" You gasp, flying from the room. Thorin pauses, then tugs at a rather worn hardcover sketchbook. And he opens it, shocked by the detailed faces that flutter through each page. He hears you greeting your grandfather down stairs. There is an exchange and then you groan.
"Papa, don't be mad about this. But I should probably introduce you to someone. Hold on." Thorin quickly sets the sketchbook down and moves to meet you in the doorway. "He sat down," you grumble, frowning. He's here to stay. "I was not prepared to have you meet my grandpa... He's a little harsh. And I'm his favorite."
"Oh, are you?" Thorin asks.
"Yes, now come on." And Thorin trots down the stairs behind you to find an elderly man sitting in a recliner comfortably. He sees the shock turn to raunchy amusement.
"What were you two doing in your room?" The man grunts, sipping a thermos.
"Mom and Dad are supposed to be here! We just got here, don't give me that!" You shout.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Grandpa, this is Thorin. Thorin, this is my grandpa who shows up unannouced frequently." You muttered the last part to Thorin and he sees your grandfather narrow his eyes on you.
"What?" He grunts.
"If you wore your damn hearing aid you'd know!" The old man waves a hand and stands up with a great deal of effort.
"I'll leave you both to your canoodling. Just tell your ma that I stopped by." You are left to more frustration. The old man shakes Thorin's hand and they grin at each other, sharing in amusement at this.
"He looks like a hippy," the old man grunts as he leaves, patting you on the shoulder. It makes you roll your eyes as he shuffles out. You shake your head.
"If that's the worst of it... You can relax."
"Oh god... He's gonna tell my whole family we were canoodling alone in my room!" You cry, stomping dramatically up the stairs. Thorin followed, chuckling. Your frazzled nature is amusing him a great deal more than it should.
"Relax, we were not canoodling. Whatever that means."
"Were you looking at my sketches?" You gasp. Before he can answer there is a wild shrieking from outside. A long annoying noise that has you glowering.
"Ah fuck. Well. My brothers are home." He was beginning to like this more and more. He'd never found you so animated.
The hours passed, you grew increasingly nervous as your brothers annoyed you. They both were struck dumb by the dwarf standing in your bedroom. And went quiet at the sight. Then began the nonstop questions of him. Some were forgotten quickly. Others not as much.
Eventually you buzzed, making tea as they made (pleasant) conversation with him. Quickly falling into his kingly charm. And then it happened. The kitchen door opened and in stalked you parents. Cooly greeting everyone.
They were perfectly polite and it left you flabbergaust. How dare they act normal! The one time you were preparing for their theatrics and they act normal! You deflate into your seat as Thorin chuckles.
"Don't."
@tomisbaeholland
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I Believe the Children are Our Future
(A Shadowhunters fanfic)
Summary: ‘I bet you haven’t met any other warlocks, have you?’ The boy shakes his head. ‘In which case, I’d imagine you have a lot of questions. So… go ahead,’ he says, gesturing. ‘Ask away.’
Set shortly before 3x03. While Maryse and Robert finalise their divorce, Max stays at the loft for a few days. Magnus offers to answer some questions about warlocks, heritage, and love.
Many thanks to @aria-lerendeair, without whom this fic would not exist. <3
Read it on AO3, or below!
~oOo~
‘You’re sure it’s okay?’
‘Of course.’
‘Because we can always-‘
‘Alexander, he’s your brother. He’s welcome here.’ Magnus takes a brief moment to imagine what Ragnor would say about him letting not one, but two Shadowhunters sleep in his lair. But it’ll only be for a few days, of course, while the Lightwoods work out the details of their divorce – and with Jace and Izzy on night shifts, it’s either Max sleeping at the loft or Alec sleeping at the Institute, and Magnus definitely prefers the former.
He smiles. ‘Besides, I’ve seen what passes for breakfast in an Institute – what sort of monster would I be to let any child suffer through that?’ He gives an exaggerated shudder, and Alec rolls his eyes – but he’s smiling now, too, so Magnus will take the win.
***
Magnus gets home late that night. What had started as a ‘simple wards repair’ in Queens had quickly turned into an absolute nightmare – he was forced to begin with an honest-to-gods exorcism, followed by a purification ritual; and of course, when all of that was finally over, the property required a full wards replacement. After all, he had to make sure that the previous shoddy workmanship didn’t result in yet another poltergeist moving in.
Hearing that the TV’s still on, he banishes all thoughts of work and wanders into the living room – but his greeting dies on his lips, conquered by a slightly sappy smile at the sight before him.
Alec’s fast asleep, snoring softly. He’s got one arm around Max, who’s also sleeping soundly, burrowed into his brother’s side. The soft teal blanket Magnus leaves out for movie nights is draped over them both; it dwarfs them, making them look even younger than they are.
Magnus waves his hand, and the TV fades out, sound and picture gradually diminishing into nothing. He’s about to go make a round of hot chocolates – he knows how to be a good host, and besides, he’s had a tough day himself – when a small voice catches his attention. ‘Mr. Bane?’
He turns back to the couch – Max is gently extricating himself from his brother’s hold, blinking owlishly up at Magnus.
Magnus smiles, settling himself at the other end of the couch. ‘Max,’ he chides, keeping his voice low. ‘Didn’t I tell you we were friends? You can call me Magnus.’
Max nods, his expression still serious. ‘Okay. Magnus. I’m sorry I asked how much of you is a demon. I didn’t mean to be rude, but Mom told me later that it was.’
Magnus blinks, a little surprised. That’s a lot more consideration than he’s used to from Maryse Lightwood. ‘Oh. Well, apology accepted, Max. You weren’t to know.’
An idea springs to mind, and Magnus settles a little more fully into the couch. ‘I bet you haven’t met any other warlocks, have you?’ The boy shakes his head. ‘In which case, I’d imagine you have a lot of questions. So… go ahead,’ he says, gesturing. ‘Ask away.’
Max stares at him for a moment, clearly torn. ‘I don’t wanna say the wrong thing again,’ he explains.
‘We all say the wrong thing sometimes, Max,’ Magnus says kindly. ‘It’s how we learn. How about this – I promise that if you ask something I’m uncomfortable with, I’ll tell you. I won’t get mad, but we’ll move on. Deal?’
Max nods, and Magnus returns it. ‘Okay, good. So, to start with your first question – I’m half-demon. My mother was a mundane, and my father was a demon.’
Max’s eyes go wide, but he just says, ‘Oh. Okay.’
Magnus smiles. ‘I know it sounds like a lot, but it’s mostly just the magic that’s the demon part. Which means that it’s mostly the mundane, human part that determines who I am as a person.’ It’s not the full story, of course, because things are never that black and white. But it’s a rationalisation he came to a long time ago – he worked hard to step out of Asmodeus’ footsteps, and long before Ragnor and Catarina and Dot, it was in mundanes he’d found kindness. He’d like to think that as a person, he’s got more in common with those mundanes than he has with his father.
‘How old are you?’ Max asks.
‘I don’t know,’ Magnus confesses, chuckling quietly at Max’s boggled expression. ‘About seven-hundred and seventy, I think? Honestly, I lost count about a hundred years ago.’
Max nods sagely. ‘That makes sense. I tried to count to five-hundred the other day, and it took me four tries.’
Magnus suppresses another laugh at that. Lightwood stubbornness really is genetic, it would seem.
‘If demons are evil – ‘ Max cuts himself off, suddenly looking unsure of himself again, but it’s not too hard to fill in the blanks.
‘Does that make warlocks evil?’ A meek nod. ‘Well, let me ask you a question – do you think I’m evil?’
‘No,’ Max says, very quickly. ‘I think you’re nice.’
Magnus feels his smile grow. ‘Thank you, Max. Okay, another question; your brother – although we both know that he’s an idiot sometimes – ‘ he winks conspiratorially, and Max laughs – ‘is nonetheless a very capable, smart Shadowhunter, and the Head of the New York Institute. Do you think he would have an evil boyfriend?’
‘No,’ Max says again, before frowning in consideration. ‘Izzy probably would, but Alec wouldn’t.’
‘Hmm.’ If Magnus has to hold in much more laughter, he’s going to end up with a hernia. ‘Well, then, I’d say you have your answer.’
There’s silence for a few moments, and Magnus is about to make the offer of hot chocolate, when Max asks, ‘You love him, right?’
Magnus glances up at Alec, feeling himself melt a little. ‘Yes,’ he murmurs. ‘Very much so. He’s very special to me.’
‘So are you going to marry him?’
The question shocks him more than it probably should. It’s early days, to be sure, but Max’s childhood logic is right, in a way – isn’t that the usual progression when two people love each other? ‘I don’t know,’ Magnus says honestly. ‘It’s not just up to me, after all; and though I love him very much, we haven’t known each other that long. But one day? If it was what we both wanted?’ He smiles, voice dropping to a whisper. ‘Yes, I’d marry him.’
Max seems satisfied, barrelling on to the subject he was clearly building to. ‘Okay, well – when you get married, can you pick comfier chairs?’ He gives a long-suffering sigh. ‘Izzy said the ones at the other wedding were pretty, and apparently they went with Lydia’s dress and Alec’s suit. But they were really uncomfortable. And we weren’t looking at the chairs anyway, we were sitting on them.’
‘Good point,’ Magnus agrees, grinning. ‘How about this? If we get married, you can be in charge of picking the chairs,’ he offers.
Max nods, but doesn’t say anything else – and it’s at that point that Magnus notices how he’s leaning back against his brother again, his eyelids drooping. ‘Why don’t you go to bed, hmm?’ Magnus says softly, getting to his feet. ‘You’ll sleep better there.’
He steps forward, aiming to take Max’s hand – but as soon as he leans down, Max wraps his skinny arms around Magnus’ neck instead, letting his eyes fall completely closed.
Magnus swallows the lump in his throat, a little overwhelmed by the show of trust. ‘Alright,’ he whispers. ‘Come on, then.’
He carries Max through to the spare bedroom, moving silently through the apartment. Max doesn’t rouse again. Not when Magnus puts him down, not when he pulls the covers over him – not even when he gently strokes his hair and murmurs, ‘Sleep well, Max.’
Magnus shuts the door with no more than a gentle click, and then makes his way back over to the couch, sitting back down next to Alexander. ‘So. How much of that did you hear?’
On the other end of the couch, one eye cracks open. ‘How did you know I was awake?’ Alec mumbles.
‘No snoring.’ That earns him a glare, and Magnus laughs. ‘Now, I believe I asked my question first?’
Alec shrugs, stretching broadly and stifling a yawn. ‘Not sure. I heard you call me an idiot.’
‘Well, then you also heard me call you smart and capable,’ Magnus points out, turning to face Alec more fully, tucking his legs up on the couch. ‘So I’m not feeling too guilty about that.’
Alec huffs a laugh. Magnus glances away for a moment, something else occurring to him. ‘I hope the, ah… wedding talk didn’t freak you out. I know we haven’t really spoken about it yet.’
When he looks back up, Magnus is confronted by an incredulous pair of raised eyebrows. ‘Right, yeah,’ Alec says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘That would freak me out. After all, we usually move so slowly in this relationship, and I was so subtle the other day when I told you you’d be a good dad.’
Magnus chuckles, and Alec drops the act, a fond smile taking over his expression.
‘For the record, though?’ he says softly. ‘We’re on the same page.’
Magnus returns the smile, feeling oddly warm inside. ‘Alright. Good to know.’ He stands up with a groan, pulling Alec to his feet, too, and leaving the blanket bundled on the couch. ‘Come on. Bed.’
‘What, I don’t get carried?’ Alec teases.
Magnus narrows his eyes – and a second later, he’s swept Alec up into a bridal carry. ‘Magnus!’ Alec yelps, his arms automatically looping around Magnus’ neck. ‘I was kidding, put me down, I’m too heavy-‘
‘Oh please,’ Magnus interrupts, rolling his eyes as he starts towards the master bedroom. ‘Do I seem like I’m struggling, here? I assure you, Alexander – if my back was going to give out, it would have done it at least two centuries ago.’
Alec seems to digest that for a moment, before settling properly into Magnus’ arms. ‘Alright,’ he says, still cautious – but a moment later he’s smirking, leaning closer. ‘I guess those muscles aren’t just for show,’ he whispers, hot breath tickling Magnus’ ear.
‘Of course not,’ Magnus says, keeping his voice low, playful and dangerous. ‘Maybe tomorrow, when you’re not so tired, I can remind you of just what else they’re useful for.’
Alexander’s eyes fall shut again, and his quiet, half-asleep laughter is a thing of beauty.
~oOo~
#shadowhunters fanfic#shtv#magnus bane#max lightwood#alec lightwood#shadowhunters#shs#malec#mine#racism mention#btw the title is from 'greatest love of all' by whitney houston
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Every night I dream you're still here
Summary: Even though that comforting magic isn’t flourishing there anymore, he can still feel Magnus everywhere. He is everywhere. It is a sweet torture, one he isn’t willing to let go. .
Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Tags: Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Angst
The lyrics in italic and bold along with the story are from the song Still Here by Digital Daggers.
Like my previous stories, this one also isn't beta-ed, so pardon me for any mistakes. I hope you like it and... sorry?
You can also read here: ao3
__________________________________________
“MAGNUS!”
Musing through memories
Losing my grip in the grey
That wasn’t supposed to happen. It was Alec who was going to see the end of his days. Magnus would outlive him. Magnus was immortal. Magnus was…
…was not invincible.
Alec didn’t want his husband in that fucking mission, but another demonic rift was opened, and only a powerful Warlock could close it.
When the rain had started to pour heavily, things seemed better. They just needed to wrap everything up and then go home. Alec turned around for a second to answer one of his subordinates’ calls when it happened.
The Warlock responsible for that nightmare appeared from some shadow and blasted all the reminiscent of dark magic he still had. It was supposed to be Alec.
Always was.
But Magnus, already depleted of magic to the bones, pushed his husband out of the way and took all the destructive power.
It took only one heartbeat. First, Alec lifted his bow with an arrow already nocked and shot, piercing the enemy’s heart. Then, he was already at Magnus’ side, gripping him for dear life.
Numbing the senses
I feel you slipping away
“No, no, no, no. Please, no.” Alec held Magnus, fear consuming his soul. His husband was so pale, it was like seeing the sun through a thick layer of fog. There was an ugly and dark red gush of blood coming from Magnus’ chest. Skin and muscle were ripped apart, and the heart…
Alec swore to protect Magnus’ heart, so why he didn’t do that?
“You can’t go. Do you hear me, Magnus? You can’t go. Please… Stay with me.”
Desperately, he tried to call Catarina.
Please, pick up. Please, please.
Magnus’ breath was shallow.
“Help will arrive anytime, I promise. Just hang in there. Stay with me, Magnus.”
With grandiose effort, the Warlock forced himself to open his eyes, and with a shaking hand, he touched Alec’s chest, above the Shadowhunter’s heart.
“…’ere. I… al…ways… ‘ere...” Magnus blinked slowly three times, pouring all his love from the golden cat-eyes. Then, his eyes closed. His hand fell.
Fell alongside Alec’s world, irreparably breaking something.
Alec screamed in pain.
Fighting to hold on
Clinging to just one more day
Still screaming, Alexander wakes up. Another nightmare. The same one since…
It has been two years, and yet… That night is still fresh in his mind. Too vivid, too real. However, it doesn’t matter how many times he wakes up screaming, crying, begging. There is no one beside him. That side of bed perpetually colder, empty. The sandalwood scent vanished a long time ago, and it doesn’t matter how many times Alec sprays the bedsheets with it. It isn’t the same.
It will never be the same.
Trembling and sweating, he makes his way to the kitchen. It is haunting. He still lives at the loft, too big for him alone. Even though that comforting magic isn’t flourishing there anymore, he can still feel Magnus everywhere. He is everywhere. It is a sweet torture, one he isn’t willing to let go. His siblings insist for him to go back to the Institute, but he strongly refuses. Because if he goes… then he will lose Magnus for good.
Love turns to ashes
With all that I wish I could say
After drinking a glass of water to calm his nerves, he walks to the balcony. It is already dawn, the chilling breeze of an early Autumn welcoming him and caressing his hair, exactly like his husband used to do.
Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he reaches to his necklace. It carries two things: Magnus’ wedding ring and a silver pendant. The pendant is made of two of Magnus’ rings – the ones with his initials – that were melted, and inside there is a few his ashes. After the funeral, they cremated his body. At the same night, Alec requested a portal to Indonesia and let his husband’s ashes there, in a beautiful and peaceful place Magnus took him once. But he saved a small portion for himself. This way, he can carry Magnus with him all the time, near his heart.
Always here. It was Magnus’ promise.
Alec believes him.
~*~
I'd die to be where you are
I tried to be where you are
Alec is burning. For the third time in two weeks, he was bitten by a venomous Demon while on an uncalled and solitary patrol, having not notified anyone nor called the companionship of his parabatai. He has a high fever, strong enough to make him delirious for two days straight, sweating and aching, trashing the sheets. It is the combination of Catarina’s healing power and strong Mundane medicine that keeps him alive. Izzy, Jace, and Maryse take turns to take care of him, making sure he is hydrated enough and resting.
Most times, he calls Magnus’ name. He tries and makes an effort to reach something in the air, a deformed outline only him can see, two golden globes lingering and blinking out of existence.
Alec whimpers and cries, not knowing how much heartbreak he can endure before destroying his own soul.
He wants to give up so badly, and when he accidentally voices his wish out loud, Jace finally snaps.
“Stop! Just stop, Alec. The way you’re acting is a disgrace to his memory.”
Alec winces. Those are the same words he told Jace when everyone thought Clary was dead and his parabatai kept throwing himself at suicide missions as nothing else in the world mattered.
He knows Jace is right.
But…
Every night I dream you're still here
The ghost by my side, so perfectly clear
When I awake, you'll disappear
Back to the shadows
Sometimes he can feel a touch, hear a whisper, see a blue wisp in the air for a brief second. Perhaps he is going crazy, but this kind of strange comfort numbs the dark thoughts for a little bit. He doesn’t spend his days moping on a bed or punching a bag until his knuckles’ skin breaks. He doesn’t shoot arrows at the endless dark sky until he can’t feel his arms and the bow becomes another weight for his shoulders to carry. He doesn’t think about bridges or balconies.
No, he tries to be useful.
He works. Only works. He helps establish new rules to protect the Downworlders. He trains new recruits. He goes to more patrols than any Shadowhunter from his Institute. He consciously searches for more demons to kill. He helps Catarina to build a shelter for Warlock children who are abandoned by their parents after presenting their Warlock marks. He fiercely protects those kids so they won’t suffer the same fate his beloved husband once had to endure.
He kills and protects. Kills and protects. Just like Magnus would do if he was still… Still…
After killing the last Ravener demon in a dark alley, he feels again that strange tingle in his body as if someone is watching him. For a moment, Alec sees a shadow moving at his peripheral vision and hears something similar to a ruffle of feathers. He nocks a new arrow, ready to hit whatever it is there.
Except, nothing is there.
Just quiet shadows.
~*~
Phantom be still in my heart
Make me a promise that
Time won't erase us
That we were not lost from the start
He opens Magnus’ box.
The contents are displayed the same way as the first time Alec has opened it without consent. Nothing changed. For a long time, Alec has thought about what Magnus would put there as a reminder of their time together. An arrowhead? Their wedding bands? His stele? They never had a chance to end for good the painful discussion of mortality versus immortality, and the fear of becoming just another one in Magnus’ long life always ate Alec’s insides.
Now, looking at that box, Alec finally understands what Magnus meant that day. Maybe it’s pretentious from his part, but he feels nothing of his would fit in there. Their love was – is – too big for just a box. Alec wouldn’t be able to put anything of Magnus in any container.
How bittersweet is to know Magnus will never have a chance to do the same.
~*~
But it breaks so easily
I try to protect you
Miscalculations don’t happen often, but when they do, the consequences are usually bad. Very, very bad. Alec is surrounded by a big horde of Shax demons, their nest overflowing. At least, he was able to save the two Warlock children trapped in that basement with them while playing hide-and-seek. Now, he is alone to deal with that ordeal.
He sees that strange shadow again, but thinks nothing of that. He just activates some more runes, even though he has already used the Stamina one twice. And even with new stamina running in his veins, he feels so tired. But he fights. He fights until his last drop of strength.
Then, the first cut comes. A big one, from one shoulder blade to the other.
Another, on the left side of his waist.
One more. More. More.
And he still fights, taking down as many as he can. There is too much venom inside him now, he knows he won’t make it. His only regret is letting his siblings down… again. He failed them.
He failed everyone.
I can't let you fade
I feel you slipping
Everything is silent. He is lying on the floor, covered by blood, sweat and ichor. A true fallen warrior. His body aches so much, it’s difficult to breathe. With a last attempt of strength, he grabs his necklace, holding his pendant and Magnus’ wedding ring with utmost care.
“I’m sorry, Magnus…” Tears roll down while he feels himself slipping away. His vision starts to blur, and before he can close his eyes, that shadow is above him. For a moment, he swears he can see something dark fluttering like giant wings. Was there another demon that he wasn’t aware?
Sleep, darling.
Yeah, he is definitely delusional. Somehow, he is not afraid. The sweet, silky voice lulls him to a painless darkness. He feels safe, secure in a way he hasn’t felt since that damn night years ago.
I’m here.
#shadowhunters#magnus bane#alec lightwood#malec#my writing#heavy angst#open ending#I feel bad for posting this right before Magnus' birthday#sorry for the pain#Every night I dream you're still here#ColorfulWarlock#otp: true love cannot die
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Merry Christmas, @cardiamachina!
This was a real joy to write, mostly because it's a very different fic to what I normally do. I'm super hoping the light angst isn't too much as I know angst was a dislike!
I hope this exploration of immortal husbands makes for a satisfying Christmas gift. I always like to explore decisions and choices in my fic, so this was a really lovely opportunity for me to actually write some of my feelings on why - or why not - Alec and Magnus should be eternal.
Merry Christmas!
Read on AO3
******
A Malec Christmas Carol
Chapter 1: Christmas Eve
“Oh come out, you little bugger,” Magnus swore under his breath as he levered the Angelica out by the root. This would be much easier if he had Alexander by his side - the plant responded to Angel blood and practically leaped into his hands - but he’d nearly run out, Christmas Eve was the full moon and he couldn’t begrudge Alec spending this night with his family. Especially not as last year Magnus had whisked him off to Madagascar for some winter sun. And if he was honest, to watch Alec’s delight as lemurs cheerfully romped over them both, stealing fruit out of their hands. Magnus thought of it like an extension of their honeymoon.
But that indulgence last Christmas left him alone this Christmas Eve, collecting plants by the shore of Lake Lyn, bathed under the cold eerie light of the full moon. Absolutely fucking freezing as well, he thought ruefully. And no Alexander later in his bed to warm him up. Ah well, he would be back tomorrow and they would have Christmas together. Maybe a warm crackling fire and hot toddies and Magnus could conjure a fluffy rug to lay Alexander down on. Magnus grinned to himself and moved to the crop of Blessed Thistle growing out between two rocks. Planning and anticipation was really half the fun.
Two plants obtained, he placed them carefully in his herb pouch and stood, brushing dirt from his knees. It was a fair trek back to the loft in Alicante and Magnus contemplated a portal, but the combination of full moon and mildly holy plants on his person sometimes did funny things to his magic. He sighed, pulled his scarf closer about his neck, and set off, the light of the moon illuminating the way. It was astonishing, really, how bright the moon could be on dark nights, even with the rebuilt towers of Alicante twinkling like beacons in the distance. It was pleasant, really. Had he thought the light was cold and icy before? It seemed to glow now, warmer and warmer, golden round the edges.
Magnus became aware of several things at once.
One, the moon is not golden, nor does it give off warmth. So that was definitely not the damn moon. Two, there was a faint ringing in his ears, not like he’d been to a loud gig, but like thousands of bells and chimes were tangling and jingling in the distance. Three, there was an Angel suspended over Lake Lyn.
Magnus froze, eyes riveted to the vision in front of him. He felt detached from his body, so suddenly immersed in panic he’d come out the other side into a zen-like calm as the Angel opened his mouth and spoke his name.
His real name.
Magnus swallowed.
“Son of the Angel Asmodeus, former-prisoner of Edom. Or do you now prefer Magnus Bane,” the Angel continued, not really making it sound like a question.
“Lightwood-Bane,” Magnus corrected, unsticking his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth and finding his voice. He wasn’t sure he could move any of his limbs, whether by the Angel’s doing or his own fear, he didn’t know. But Angels didn’t appear to Downworlders. Angels especially didn’t appear to the sons of Fallen Angels, Princes of Hell. His eyes adjusted to the light emanating from the Angel and he raked over his appearance, looking for clues as to his identity. Handsome, muscular, scarred - scarred - piercing blue eyes and a long spear with a fluttering white scrap of material clasped in his hand.
Michael then. General of the armies of Heaven. Banisher of his father. Banisher of Lucifer .
Magnus was in trouble. And he’d never get to tell Alexander goodbye.
“I come to you now to offer you payment.”
He blinked, then shook his head as if to clear his ears, chimes still tinkling somewhere. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“Payment. Or a reward, depending on how you wish to see it.” Michael spoke in a slow monotone and Magnus failed to read any emotion in his words.
“What have I done that could possibly lead to a reward from the Archangel Michael?” Magnus asked, not trusting anything. This could be a hallucination. A trick from a demon. A prank of a Warlock, not that he was aware of any in Alicante right then.
And yet, he knew. He knew in his bones, in what passed for a soul deep inside, that this was Michael. The real Michael in front of him.
He tried to make himself remember that the Angels were cruel. They’d only just allowed Clary to return to them. Oh, fuck . The probability that this was bad news statistically rocketed when he remembered Biscuit was back in the Shadow World.
“You prevented the destruction of our people. You protected Idris and the mortal world with your blood. Your immortal life. When you had much to stay for, you sacrificed all.”
Magnus cocked his head, narrowing his eyes at the Angel.
“Ye-es,” he dragged out. “I did that over a year ago.”
“Thirteen months, twenty-two days, fifteen hours and eleven minutes ago.”
“Can you tell me the seconds too?” Magnus quipped before he could control his mouth.
“Magnus Lightwood-Bane,” the Angel intoned, his eyes narrowing slightly. Magnus felt a wave of energy swell over him, and he staggered against the sensation.
“Apologies,” he whispered, his mouth paper dry.
“We give to you the gift of immortal life.” Michael stopped, as if this was enough information.
Magnus waited for a few seconds and then opened his mouth, abruptly shutting it again. He did that a couple of times, before running on autopilot, shifting his weight to one hip and waving his hand around airily.
“I hate to sound ungrateful, but I’m already immortal. I know sometimes people can miss that because of the rest of the fabulous-ness, but that’s me. Living forever.”
There was a silence, slightly too long to be comfortable, and then Michael raised one eyebrow. Damn, Magnus was impressed by how sarcastic that one gesture was.
“Who said it was for you? It’s a gift. That you can give to someone else, if you wish it.”
All colour drained from Magnus’ face and he sat down on the earth, collapsing with a thud.
“No,” he whispered, staring at Michael with wide eyes. That couldn’t mean what he was taking it to mean. The Angels, they wouldn’t be that kind. His mind flashed to Alec, surrounded by his family when they’d moved to Alicante, hugging Izzy when she became the Head of the Institute, looking so proud and full of love. No, but they’d be that cruel.
“Are you… are you saying I have the power to make anyone immortal?”
Michael inclined his head once. “Yes. You would bind them to your life force, Magnus Lightwood-Bane. You would protect him with your life.”
“Him?” Magnus echoed hollowly. He hated that Michael could see right through him.
“We see all,” was all Michael replied, and Magnus shuddered. Great, voyeuristic Angels, that’s all his libido needed.
“You have until the clock strikes midnight on Christmas Day to perform the ritual,” Michael continued, and suddenly in Magnus’ mind the knowledge of how to do it, how to bind Alec to his own immortal life force, dropped in like it had always been there. Like he’d always known. It felt obscene, a violation, horrifically unnatural, and Magnus gasped, pressing the heel of his hand to his temple. His herb pouch grew heavier with the small Adamas dagger that the ritual required. They had thought of everything, which is why Magnus, after being tricked by Lilith and his father, was instantly suspicious.
“What’s the catch? Forgive my candour, but we haven’t exactly been used to the generosity of Angels.”
“No? Did Ithuriel not give his life for Clarissa Morgenstern? Have we not guided and protected your loved ones through troubles of their own making? Did Raziel not grant Clarissa’s wish?”
“And then erased her life because she saved hundreds of Nephilim, causing untold pain to those I care about,” he retorted.
“I am not compelled to justify our decisions.” Magnus could make out the beginning hints of colour high on Michael’s cheeks, his lips compressed into a thin line. “We move to God’s will.”
“You’re saying it’s God’s will that Alexander lives forever,” he scoffed, his scepticism rising. There was always something in return. Nothing was ever free.
“And we will not be questioned,” Michael continued as if Magnus hadn’t spoken, the light around him growing dim, the edges of his body beginning to blur and fade. It was a disconcerting effect, not least because it meant the Angel was leaving.
“Well, I’m going to question you anyway. What do you want from me - from Alec?” Magnus held out his hand as if he could entreat Michael to stay longer, aware his voice edged into pleading for answers.
“It’s a gift, Magnus Lightwood-Bane. You may choose to ignore it, and he will remain mortal and die in time.”
“And if I ask him to share my immortal life? Does he remain - is he still..?” Magnus trailed off, swallowing around the words. Despite Alexander’s ludicrous demand to become a vampire to join Magnus in Edom, Magnus had never been able to separate the Shadowhunter from the man. Especially when Alec had so recently been promoted and could finally begin to make real, systemic changes to the Clave.
“He will always be my kin,” Michael answered evasively, which honestly was not as reassuring as Magnus wanted it to be.
“As will you,” the Angel continued, which was possibly even more alarming. Michael’s form faded even further until Magnus could make out the woods behind him.
“Your ki… no, wait. Don’t leave!”
“Until midnight on Christmas Day, Magnus Lightwood-Bane, son of Asmodeus,” the Angel intoned and then winked out of existence as if he’d neer been there. Magnus sat staring at the spot for Lilith knew how long, frozen to the ground, unmoving until his leg cramped and jolted him out of his reverie.
“Ow, shit,” he hissed, digging his palm into the muscle of his calf. Magnus forced himself to his feet, brushing at his clothing, and then risked a look inside his pouch. Out of season lavender curled around the simple hilt of an Adamas dagger. There was a small pouch next to it, and Magnus lifted it out with trembling numb fingers. White Willow bark. Perfect for Moon magic and symbolising long-lasting love. It wasn’t necessary for the ritual - spell, he would say, but somehow instinctively knew the Angels would not want it called that - but it would strengthen the effectiveness, he supposed. They really wanted this to work.
Which meant they had some purpose for Alec to keep living.
Magnus walked home lost in his thoughts, snapping a fire to life in the fireplace automatically when he got inside. He placed the pouch carefully in his study and locked the door, not wanting Alec to find it. Not until he’d talked to him.
How the fuck was he going to talk to him? How could he spring something so momentous on his husband?
Would Alec even want to spend eternity with him?
Magnus shook his head and went back into his study, rooting around for Bearberry and Blue Sage, then threw the herbs into his cauldron. He added brandy because he might as well enjoy the drink, and muttered an incantation for guidance, appealing to the spirits to give him clear thought and a calm mind. Straining it into his mug, he tidied up and relocked the door, making his way to bed.
Even the brandy couldn’t fully mask the bitterness of the drink but he forced it down and prepared for bed, taking off his makeup and settling in for the night. Shooting a goodnight text to Alexander, he turned off the lights and prepared for sleep, hoping that his dreams would hold the answers.
Chapter 2: Past
“Tsk. Well at least you had some sense to ask for my opinion, seeing how well it served you last time. Come on, open your eyes you dramatic old goat, and have some more brandy. ”
Magnus frowned and blinked open his eyes. He was fully dressed, sat in front of a roaring fire in what looked like his old London townhouse, sharing a very good vintage from 1862 with Ragnor Fell.
“So. Not in Alicante, then.”
Ragnor snorted. “Still as quick as ever. Honestly, how you managed to become a High Warlock of anything with a brain as slow as treacle I’ll never know.” He settled back into the large Chesterfield and sipped from his glass, harrumphing into it.
“Slept my way to the top,” Magnus said automatically, falling back into their old banter before startling forward.
“ Ragnor .”
“What is it, you histrionic clothes horse?”
“Am I dead? Are you alive? Why am I in London? Where’s Alexander?” Magnus demanded answers in an increasingly belligerent tone. Ragnor thwapped him in the knee with one slippered foot and Magnus subsided, glaring.
“Because the higher powers have a terrible and literal sense of humour, I’m meant to tell you I’m the Ghost of Christmas Past. I like to think of it as me sensibly and altruistically preventing you from making a terrible mistake of course. Again. As per usual. Come on, get up.” He rose to his feet, brushing down his velvet trousers and smoothing his cravat.
“Mistake?” Magnus echoed, clambering to his feet. He looked at his brandy glass, debated putting it down and instead polished it off in one gulp. If he was going to have vivid dreams like this he was going to enjoy the free booze.
“In your love life, of course. I apologize for missing your first wedding, but I had to RSVP on account of being dead.”
“Ragnor,” Magnus said again, tears springing to his eyes as he pulled Ragnor into a hug. “My oldest friend.”
“Stop touching me,” Ragnor said, wheezing slightly from having his ribs squeezed. “This is very unbecoming.”
“I miss you, you grumpy cabbage,” Magnus grinned and gave him one last squeeze. “Why are you my Ghost of Christmas Past?”
“Because apparently you've forgotten the lessons you so painfully learned.”
“And what lessons might those be?”
Ragnor raised his eyebrows and beckoned him to follow, opening the door of the parour they had been in to the dining room. There in front of them, was himself - exactly as he had been, beautifully brocaded frock coat and laced cravat, rubies in his ear. His hair was parted low on one side and swept over with waved ends and he looked thoroughly, utterly miserable.
The explanation for his misery sat opposite, drinking blood from a wine glass.
The Magnus of the present turned to Ragnor. “Really?” he asked. “If we’re going to remind me of all my terrible love choices, could we not have gone with something a little less… vicious?”
Ragnor nudged him. “Shut up, Magnus. Just watch.” Magnus sighed and went back to observing himself and Camille.
“I was thinking perhaps we could take in a ballet. Or the theatre. Something festive for New Year’s.”
“Mmm,” Camille replied noncommittally, running a finger round the edge of her wine glass, not raising her gaze. “Could we not do something a little more exciting, darling? One does get so tired of the same faces at this time of year.”
“Perhaps a trip, then?” Magnus rose and held out his hand towards her and after a moment she acquiesced with a small sigh, rising to her feet gracefully and taking his hand, although she dropped it before they got to the settee. She tucked herself into the corner and ignored him in favour of inspecting her shoes.
“A trip? Well, I do so like to travel. New places, new people…”
“New opportunities for presents,” Magnus teased her and snapped a wrapped thin box into his hands.
Camille finally looked up and squealed, becoming the most animated she’d been. She held out her hand palm up. “Magnus! You shouldn’t have. We said we weren’t doing anything this year.”
“I know, my dove, but I do like to spoil you. And I know how much you had your eye on this.” Camille graced him with one of her wide smiles as Magnus handed her the box.
A stunning array of emeralds greeted her when she opened the box, tearing the wrapping greedily and then cooing at the contents. “Oh, Magnus.”
“Green to match your eyes. May I?” Magnus leaned over and delicately took the necklace from the box while Camille turned her back to him and smoothed her long hair off the nape of her neck, moving the heavy mass out of the way. Magnus secured the necklace around her and trailed his fingertips through the silky strands as he gently pulled her hair back into place, fingers curling through her ringlets.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
“Magnus, I haven’t even turned around yet.”
“I know you’re beautiful, my love.”
Camille laughed, that high tinkling laugh that now set his teeth on edge and finally rose, turning around. She was a vision, her hair half piled high on top of her head and ringlets curling down her back, her eyes clear and painted colour high on her cheeks. The low neckline of her burgundy dress perfectly complemented her pale shoulders, bare and glowing in the light of the fire. The emeralds sparkled and her green eyes shone.
Magnus leaned towards her, expecting a kiss. Camille ducked away from his embrace and ran straight to the mirror, laughing again when she saw herself, turning this way and that to catch the light in her new gems.
“Oh, we must go out!” she exclaimed. Magnus trailed after her.
“Camille, it’s Christmas Day.”
“Yes, which means there’ll be a party somewhere. Oh, honestly Magnus, stop being such a bore. I want to go out!” She ignored him and went to ring the bell for her maid.
“I thought,” Magnus started, his voice sounding hesitant. “I thought we could just spend tonight with the two of us. Have a romantic evening.”
From this angle, the Magnus of the present could see Camille’s mouth thin and her nostrils flare, before she put on a beseeching expression and turned back around.
“Oh my love,” she cooed again, her voice soft and wheedling. “But you’ve given me such a lovely surprise gift, how can I not want to go show it off? To show everyone how much you love me? You know how I enjoy making all those miserable people jealous of what we have.” She pressed her lips to Magnus’ cheek, taking his hands in hers.
“Just this once, Magnus, please? We’ll be home well before dawn and can spend the whole day in bed tomorrow, just you and I. I’ll wear nothing but this wonderful necklace.” She kissed under his ear and Magnus made a content noise.
“How can I ever say no to you?”
“I don’t think I ever want you to try,” she giggled and then clapped her hands with joy before turning away from him yet again.
“That’s quite enough of that,” harrumphed Ragnor and he waved his hands, the scene in front of them fading.
“And your point is?” Magnus drawled, surprised at how little seeing that memory again hurt. “I was content once upon a time to spend the rest of my immortal life with one person. My choice of person was not the greatest. I am well aware that Alexander is not Camille.”
“But he could be,” Ragnor said and Magnus looked at him in surprise.
“Do you really think so?”
“Immortality changes us, old friend. Love no longer seems so important if you know it is eternal.”
Magnus frowned. “You told me to chase love! And hold on to it!”
“When I felt you closing yourself off to even trying,” Ragnor countered. “You put everything into making Camille’s life happy with scant thought for yourself. I don’t want you going down that road again.”
He shook his head, wondering where this was coming from. “Camille and I had very different views on love. Yes, she and I were happy - for a long time. But it became a lie. I don’t think the same thing would happen.”
Ragnor spread his hands in the universal sign for ‘maybe’ and sat back down, crossing his legs. “Forever is a long time. How can you be so sure you won’t tire of him, or he of you?”
Magnus started to follow him but stopped still at his words. His hand flew up to grasp at his chest, trying to soothe the sharp pain that ran through him.
“I… I can’t.” Magnus licked his mouth, feeling suddenly faint. “I don’t know if he’d stay with me.”
“Are you so willing to risk your eternal happiness on someone you can’t trust to be there for you forever?” asked Ragnor, arching his eyebrows. “I’m trying to protect you, Magnus. So that you protect your own heart. Grieving and loving again is more healthy than losing your love and wallowing until the end of time.”
“I’d like to avoid both,” Magnus said sharply. “He married me. There was an oath. ‘Til death separates us.” And Alexander would never go against his word, he reminded himself forcefully. Magnus could always trust in him.
“So you think the only thing keeping him with you would be his oath? Aren’t you worried he’d come to resent you, Magnus?” Ragnor voiced Magnus’ greatest fear, and Magnus loved him for it. Wanted to kick him at the same time, but still loved him for his honesty.
“I disagree,” came a new voice. “If anyone could make eternity work I would have said it would be Magnus and his Shadowhunter love.”
Magnus startled and turned, his eyes widening at who he saw. “Dot!” He rushed over and embraced her. “Dorothea, my wonder! I miss you. So, so much.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” she told him, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Ignore grumpy here.” Ragnor made an offended noise.
“Come with me. I’m here to show you why this is a truly blessed gift, Magnus.” Magnus stepped forward to join her, but then looked back at Ragnor. He darted back to embrace him one last time, pressing a kiss to his forehead as Ragnor swatted him away.
“Goodbye, old friend. May we meet again.”
“Stop pressing your lipstick all over me.” Ragnor pushed him away but a small smile curved the corners of his mouth. “You may call upon me at any time.”
“Thank you, my dear cabbage.”
“I might not answer, but you can call.”
Magnus was still laughing as Ragnor faded away.
“Well,” Dot said brightly. “Let’s put all of that negative nonsense to bed, shall we?” And she took Magnus by the hand and stepped forward.
Chapter 3: Present
“You can’t let your past dictate your future,” Dot reminded him as she guided him through what looked like a nicely upmarket fitting room.
“How many Warlocks do you know that are in blissful immortal relationships?” he asked her.
“Ok, fair, they’re rare. But if you were willing to marry Alec, with no guarantee that either he or you would stay together even over 50 years, then why can’t you have faith in your love for longer?”
He fell silent, thinking that over. Dot lead him into the bright lights of a store that he instantly recognised as the men’s section of Bergdorf Goodman. Magnus looked around, surprised. A few yards away he spotted a familiar head of hair, easy to see as Alec was so tall. Magnus’ face brightened instantly and he instinctively began to move towards him.
“He can’t see you,” Dot said, linking her arm with his and stopping him short. “We’re not really here, remember?”
“Do I have to just watch again?” Magnus asked, not bothering to keep the annoyance from his voice. He wanted Alexander - to hold him and talk to him and look into his eyes to find the answers he so desperately needed.
“What we share with those who’ve known us the longest - when we know they won’t hesitate to call us on our lies to ourselves - that’s a gift to be able to overhear.” Dot gave him a knowing look. “Like you’ve not wanted to know how Alec talks about you behind your back.”
“I haven’t,” Magnus protested, and then realised that it was true. He’d never wanted to know how Alec spoke about him, simply because he trusted Alec to be honest with him first.
“Well maybe that’s a lesson in itself,” Dot chided him and drew them closer as the siblings shopped.
“Why didn’t you do this earlier? This is pretty last minute, Alec.”
“It’s not like Alicante is teeming with stores like this, Iz. This is Spring Versace.” Alec shook the sleeve of the shirt for emphasis.
“Ok, who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Isabelle grinned and nudged him with her shoulder while Alec blushed and went back to looking on the rack.
“It’s important to Magnus. Therefore it’s important to me,” he mumbled while she cooed.
“Oh, shut up.” Alec rolled his eyes and pulled out an artfully ripped sweater in an alarming shade of crocus.
“No, brother dear.” Izzy calmly steered his hand to place it back on the rack and Magnus thanked her silently. “Definitely not. Anyway, I think it’s very sweet. Simon. Well, Simon isn’t exactly high fashion.”
Alec’s face took on that mixture of fascinated horror that appeared whenever Simon was mentioned in front of him. “Is, um. Is everything alright with you two?” Magnus could see the internal war inside Alec as he waited for the answer.
“Honestly? Yes. It’s wonderful. Amazing, even. He’s sweet and kind and funny and he loves me. He’s really good for me.”
Alec’s shoulders relaxed a notch. “Why is there a ‘but’ about to happen?”
“I want kids,” Izzy burst out and promptly looked horrified. Alec dropped the shirt he was holding and wheeled around to stare at his sister.
“What?!”
“Not right now,” she hastily reassured him. “But. Someday. I want a family.”
“He’s a vampire.” Magnus rolled his eyes. Well done to Alec for pointing out the obvious.
“Yes Alec, we’re aware of that.” Izzy mirrored Magnus and rolled her own eyes. She brushed her hair out of her face and concentrated on a pile of soft silk scarves. “We’re trying to find a way around this.”
“Izzy, don’t you dare think about taking the bite. Don’t you-“ Izzy stopped him by placing her hand firmly against his chest.
“Don’t be an idiot. We’re trying to find a way to make Simon mortal again, obviously.” Magnus’ eyebrows shot up when he heard that. Oh, well done, Isabelle. If anyone had the determination to make that happen, it was her.
“Angel above, Iz. Is that even possible?”
Her mouth set in a determined line. “I’m going to find a way, Alec.” He blinked at her and then Alec’s face softened in acquiescence and he nodded, turning back to the clothing. He browsed the rack for a minute in silence, rolling his lips together to try to hide a smile. Magnus watched as Alec cleared his throat.
“But does it have to be Simon? Really?”
“Oh, you dick!” Izzy smacked him hard on the arm as Alec burst out laughing and then held his hands up in surrender.
“I’m kidding! Well, mostly. Izzy stop hitting me!”
Izzy flicked her hair back and visibly shook off her indignance, the corners of her mouth trying to curl as she fought a smile.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you want kids?”
“We try for them nightly,” Alec said dryly and Magnus burst out laughing, echoed by Dot next to him.
“You’ve had an influence,” she murmured to Magnus and he smiled at her.
“Alec!” Izzy swatted him again. “Be serious. There’s nothing stopping you. There’s always children, warlock kids or orphaned Nephilim that need parents.”
“We have the same issue as you two, I guess.” Alec was concentrating too hard on the print on a very nice shirt, and Magnus realised he was gripping Dot’s hand. He grimaced in apology and let her go. She softly smiled at him and took his hand again, and his heart ached with missing her.
“Magnus is immortal and I’m not. It makes it harder, I guess. He’ll outlive any mortal children we could have.”
“Would you want him to be mortal?” Izzy stepped closer and put her hand comfortingly in his forearm, forcing him to turn to face her. Magnus held his breath.
“No,” Alec shook his head. “Raziel, no. We went through that and it’s not. Just no. I want him to live.”
Magnus breathed again.
“Would you... want to be immortal?”
“I.” Alec blew out his cheeks and shifted his weight on his feet, avoiding her gaze and Magnus leaned forward.
“Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane, you answer me right now!” Izzy hissed and jerked his arm sharply.
“Ow, Iz, yes, yes , ok? If I could. I don’t want to leave him. I want a family and I want him and I want to see more of the world, his world. God, Izzy, I love him. And there’s so much to him and so much I want to experience with him and I’m not sure one lifetime is enough. Yes, ok? If it was possible, I’d want to be with him forever. But it’s not possible. And so I don’t allow myself to think about it.” Alec closed his eyes as if in pain and Magnus became aware of a keening noise. He looked around for the source and realised it was coming from him.
“Dot,” he whispered. “Dorothea, why are you showing me this?”
“Because you need to know. It’s only your own fears from stopping your happiness.”
“You’d be ok with not aging? All of us dying?” Izzy gestured to herself, sounding more curious than annoyed.
“Iz, I’m going to have to watch you die anyway. Or I’ll die first, whatever, but. Me not dying won’t make a difference to my family and most of the people I love being mortal.”
Alec sounded so practical. Magnus frowned. There was a difference to knowing everyone around you was going to die and being forced to live through it and live on without them.
“Even if you do have kids? Alec, you went crazy when Max was injured.” Izzy sounded as sceptical as Magnus felt.
“It was my fault.” Alec set his jaw and met Izzy’s eyes again. “Max nearly dying… that was my fault, Izzy. I should never have trusted Jonathan.” Magnus ached to touch him.
“How could you know?” Izzy demanded softly, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. “He was wearing a different face. And I vouched for him. I was the one who brought him in.”
“He was going to come to the Institute anyway,” Alec pointed out and Izzy rolled her eyes again.
“Yeah, and even if you hadn’t shoved him on security he probably would have hurt Max. So if you can cut me some slack, you can do the same for you, big brother.”
Alec finally smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah. Alright!” he protested when she poked him as well for good measure.
“Can we please get back to picking out the last of my husband’s presents?” he asked, turning back to the clothing. “Now, he’s often mentioned someone Cavelli. Cavalli? Does that mean anything to you?”
“I’m gonna get you a subscription to Vogue,” Izzy threatened under her breath and grabbed Alec’s arm to steer him to a different section. Magnus wanted to get in their way, to demand Alec answer her about how he’d feel watching his mortal children age and die. To ask how Magnus could possibly deal with that, even with Alec at his side, because Magnus couldn’t even fathom living through that.
Instead, he looked back at Dot, feeling lost. She tilted her head and gave him a sympathetic look.
“It’s alright Magnus. You’ll see. He loves you beyond anything and the two of you are stronger together. This is what you’ve always wanted. Someone who challenges you, and supports you and will explore with you - by your side, forever. I wanted to give you that, but I wasn’t the right person.”
“Dot -” he started to say, intent on preventing her from any self-deprecating sentences, but she shushed him with one finger and then smiled.
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me, Magnus Lightwood-Bane. I had a wonderful life, and I’m more than happy with the time I had and my choices. My purpose here is to help you do the same - and not regret for the rest of your life.”
“What if Alec regrets it for the rest of his life, Dot?”
“I’m not saying it’s easy being immortal. I’m not saying there won’t be times where he has to be reminded about perspective and priorities and all the things he takes for granted being mortal. But I don’t think for one second he’ll regret living for you, Magnus. Not one second.”
“You two are sickeningly in love,” a new voice chimed in and Magnus jumped, whirling around to look at the newcomer. She looked... familiar but not - a tall woman with a well-shaped afro. He squinted at her and she laughed, putting her hand up to her throat. A moment before she pulled the scarf off, he knew.
“Sweetpea!” he exclaimed, and she flew into his arms, still laughing.
“Definitely too big for you to pick up, Magnus,” she told him. “Time for you to say goodbye and come with me.”
He untangled himself from her embrace and enveloped Dot instead, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“Goodbye darling Dorothea. I hope you rest well and that I see you again one day.”
“Never stop fighting for love, Magnus.” She squeezed his hand and kissed him back. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” he whispered as Madzie grabbed his hand and began to pull him away. Dot waved goodbye and faded from sight, so he turned back to Madzie, who led him… right to the front door of their loft.
Chapter 4: Future
“So I’m your ghost of Christmas future, yeah? What I’m going to show you isn’t set in stone. But it is what your path is right now, where Alec remains mortal. Don’t worry, you’ll forget the specifics when you wake up, time travel’s a bitch on free will.”
“Language,” Magnus said automatically and then covered his mouth. Madzie laughed, bright and sudden.
“Yeah, you don’t shake that particular instinct for about another seventy years.”
“Well that’s just embarrassing.”
“Hazard of immortality. Max has it way worse.”
“Max? Why?”
Madzie’s eyes went wide and she gestured hurriedly. “Oh, not Uncle Max. Um, other Max. Baby Max. Ah, fuck it, just look.” She swirled her hand in front of her and the door opens to reveal what looked like a very chaotic Christmas.
Two dark-haired children ran past Magnus giggling as he walked into the living room, followed by an older, red-headed teenager.
“I swear to Raziel, if you two don’t stop running round, I’m telling Uncle Magnus that you broke the vase at Thanksgiving.” The two kids screeched to a halt and slunk back around the corner the way they came before bursting out into laughter and running off again. The girl - Magnus assumed Clary and Jace’s kid, grimaced and made throttling motions with her hands, before an older looking Isabelle, her hair shorter than Magnus had ever seen it, walked into the room.
“If you want to swipe a glass of wine I promise to look the other way,” she told the teen solemnly. “I often tell Simon that the twins are the reason we get through so many bottles every week.”
“It’s ok, Auntie Iz. They’re just hopped up on sugar and also the living incarnation of Satan,” the girl said, yelling the last part of that sentence in the direction of the twins.
“It looks like someone needs a very diluted mimosa,” came Magnus’ own voice, and then his future-self swanned into the room, his hair longer and pinned up in an elaborate fashion. He snapped his fingers and handed a glass that looked like it was mostly peach juice over to the teenager and then promptly summoned a bottle of champagne and two glasses and handed one to Isabelle. She fell upon it gratefully.
“Celine, you’re doing a marvellous job keeping them in line,” Magnus continued and gestured to the couch for them to sit.
Celine shook her head. “It’s ok, Magnus. I need to make sure they’re not trying to get Max to turn them into something weird. But I think Hannah could probably use one of these as well.” Magnus watched himself hand over another mimosa.
“It’s ok, I don’t think Max has quite mastered that trick yet.”
“It doesn’t seem to stop them all from trying,” Celine replied dryly and wandered off in search of the kids and this mysterious Max.
“So how much of our home do Izzy’s children destroy?” Magnus asked Madzie who was still standing next to him.
“So, so much,” she said without a hint of teasing. “You keep saying they remind you of Clary, given that the Herondale children all seem to actually respect rules.”
“I’m sure Biscuit and Blondie just love that.”
“They settle down a lot,” Madzie told him with a small smile. “Alec asked them to train Shadowhunters. Clary specialised in improvised weaponry and tactics.”
Magnus threw his head back to laugh. “That would definitely suit her.”
The front door opened behind them and a silver-haired Maryse and Luke arrived carrying bags overflowing with gifts.
“Where are my grandkids?” Maryse called and suddenly the entire loft swarmed with children of varying ages, all crowding round them for hugs and all chattering at them. Magnus moved out of the way of them, mildly alarmed, as his future self simply conjured another table and more champagne.
“Reinforcements,” sighed future-Magnus and Izzy together.
More noise as Clary, Jace and Simon spilled out of the kitchen to greet them, and Magnus turned to look at Madzie when he noticed the runes on Simon.
“The Mortal Cup,” Madzie told him. “Isabelle said she’d find a way and she did.”
“That’s amazing,” Magnus said, so happy for them. And then he looked up as his husband, temples flecked with grey, came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel, followed by an unknown Nephilim teenager. Alec looked as beautiful as ever, more lines round his eyes but still full of the brightness of soul that had drawn Magnus to him in the first place.
“Papa,” the boy said, and Magnus watched to see which adult turned around. He looked Hispanic and spoke with a slight accent. He must be an orphan taken in by one of them, he assumed. Magnus admired his dark painted nails. Bold, for a Nephilim. Probably Izzy’s child.
His future self turned. “Yes, Raf?”
Everything inside Magnus stopped. He felt frozen, blinking rapidly to try to work out what was happening.
The youngest child broke away from the crowd by the door and ran back to Alec who dropped and swung him up into his arms.
“Daddy, can we open our gifts from Grandma and Grandpops?”
“Of course you can, Max,” Alec said as he bopped the boy on his horns, the boy flaring a bright blue as his glamour dropped and Magnus clutched at the wall behind him.
“Papa, presents!” The child cried out victoriously at future-Magnus, who was deep in conversation with Raf.
“What.” Magnus said faintly. “What.”
“Breathe, Magnus.” Madzie said, not unkindly. “Did you not think that this was a possibility?”
Magnus shook his head, avidly watching the scene in front of him as if he could commit it to memory. "We have sons. We have sons." The Clave had allowed them to adopt a Nephilim, for Raziel's sake. And a Warlock. And everyone was acting as if this was normal.
Raf held his arms out for Max and Max jumped down from Alec’s embrace and ran to his brother. “C’mon Max. We’ll put the presents under the tree and you can make sure everyone has one and then we can open them together.”
Alec looked approvingly at Raf’s words and dropped a kiss to the top of his head as he joined them, casually slinging his arm around Magnus as if this was a everyday occurrence. Them, and their kids. Their family .
Magnus let out an astonished wheeze while Madzie patted his arm in consolation, looking highly amused.
“Rafael’s finished basting the turkey and it will be about an hour,” Alec said as the boys ran off to drag Maryse and Luke into the living room, both of them stopping to kiss Magnus and Alec. “So we have time for presents and then everyone has to wash their hands.”
“Yes dad,” Clary said impishly as she moved past them and Alec stuck his tongue out at her which she immediately returned, both of them smiling at each other in a way that would be impossible in the present.
“This feels like the Twilight Zone,” Magnus said, looking at Madzie with wide eyes.
“Clary and Alec get really, really close after Max - Lightwood Max, not Lightwood-Bane Max - nearly dies. Again.”
“What happened?”
“He was defending the LA Institute. You and Alec are very popular but there’s a small faction of the Downworld and the Nephilim that really don’t like the two of you together. Call you race traitors. They went after Alec’s family. Alec of course blamed himself, because he always does. But Clary actually did kill her brother. They weirdly bond and I think she helped him to see it wasn’t his fault.”
“But he’s ok?”
“Yeah. He’s not here this year because he and his wife are on duty.”
Magnus nodded, still watching everyone settle down around the Christmas tree, ripping into presents - or in his and Alec’s case, taking the opportunity to make out behind an open book Magnus held up in front of their faces.
“Ewwwwww,” chorused Raf, Celine and Hannah while the adults laughed, Jace throwing a wadded up ball of wrapping paper at them.
“That’s enough, you two.”
“We’re missing date night tonight,” protested future-Magnus, flicking the ball away with magic towards Max, who did the same thing back at him, making it smack against Magnus’ forehead with a giggle.
Magnus drew in a sharp breath. “Please tell me I’m the cool dad.”
Madzie laughed and shook her head. “Actually you’re the over-protective one. Alec lets them run wilder than you’d prefer. But then he’d been holding a sword since the age of six, so it’s understandable he sees nothing wrong with them going on adventures. You just want your boys around you. It’s sweet, Magnus. They loved you both so much.”
“I hate that you keep using the past tense.”
“I can only show you the future I know.” Madzie tugged on his sleeve. “We have to move on, Magnus.”
“But I don’t want to go. I want to see how the lunch turns out.”
“Raf’s a great cook. But that’s not why we’re here and you know it.” She made a circling motion with her fingers and the scene in front of them sped up so that Magnus could only see flashes of life in the loft. Him and Alec holding a baby with a proud Rafael beside them. Another family Christmas with more young children, streaks of grey in Isabelle’s hair. A soft morning for just him and Alec, a cane nearby, Alec writing furiously on a tablet and Magnus reading.
The scenery around them changed. A sombre crowd in white inside the main hall in Alicante, Clary’s faded head bowed with sobs. Their bedroom with Alec, thin and asleep with Magnus reading aloud next to him, stealing glances at his husband. Magnus in the same position, staring bleakly at an empty, neatly-made bed, with his book fallen to the floor.
“No,” he whispered, clutching at Madzie’s hand, squeezing his eyes shut so hard it hurt. “I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to know.”
“You have to face this, Magnus. You have to know why the Angels gave you this gift.” Madzie’s voice was firm but full of sympathy. She motioned again and the scenes continued.
He saw himself surrounded by his family, Raf older now while Max looked young still, faces drawn and sad. Then a new apartment, somewhere sunnier than Alicante, Madzie and Max and Rafe hanging pictures. A dinner with young people whose faces contained echoes of Magnus’ present. Another white funeral, Max propping up a grieving Magnus. Raf, Magnus guessed, his stomach churning. Then another new place, smaller, darker. Magnus in a bar, at first alone, then with Catarina, then with strangers. Never the same face twice. Max and Madzie again, arguing with Magnus in what looked like a study. Madzie again, alone this time. Then Catarina again. Then Magnus alone, staring out the window, his back to them as they watched. Fire messages came and there were sharp raps on the door, but he remained alone.
The image didn’t change and he tore himself away from the pathetic view in front of him and turned back to Madzie.
“What are you telling me, Sweet Pea? That losing people hurts? I know that one. That’s not a good reason to irrevocably change someone's life.” He tried to sound dismissive but his hands trembled by his side and he clasped them together before Madzie could see.
“We all know that, Magnus.” She fixed him with her gaze. “The Downworld and the Shadowhunters - we worked in harmony for a long long time. You and Alec were figureheads - the leaders, there to calm things down when tensions rose, there to fight for what was right and fair, not what was based on tradition. And with Alec gone… you locked yourself away from everyone. Even with darkness coming. You tried for a while. For Max. For us. But....” she trailed off and bit her lip.
“What, Sweetpea? You can tell me.”
“You became what you always feared - alone and untouched by anything. You simply faded.”
“No,” Magnus whispered, shaking his head. “No, I wouldn’t. I haven’t before.”
“You deserve so much happiness, Magnus. You deserve to be in the world. But it’s like you decided the world wasn’t worth it if Alec’s not with you. And our world needs you, Magnus.”
“That’s still not a reason to ask him to stay with me!” Magnus cried. “I want him to be with me because he wants to, not because without him I give up!”
“How are you going to know that if you don’t ask him?” Madzie shot back, folding her arms and looking unerringly like Catarina.
Magnus opened his mouth to answer her and realised he had nothing. He looked at her, shocked, his mouth hanging open.
“Well, damn,” he finally managed, completely taken aback at how well he’d been played. “I’m going to have to ask him, aren’t I? It’s the only thing I can do.”
Madzie broke into a huge smile, her eyes alight with happiness. “You’ve always told me to fight for the future that I wanted, Magnus. Finally you’re taking your own advice.”
Chapter 5: Christmas Day
Magnus woke up when the bed dipped, and opened his eyes to the wondrous sight of Alexander crawling into bed with him.
“Mmmmm, what time is it?”
“Nearly midday. You’re sleeping Christmas away.”
“Merry Christmas,” Magnus yawned sleepily and pulled Alec closer, burying his nose in his neck. “Brr, you’re all cold.”
“Yes, it’s December,” Alec replied dryly, and then started to laugh as Magnus began to tug off his clothes.
“That’s not going to help me warm up.”
“Oh no?” Magnus grinned, and kissed him thoroughly. “Challenge accepted.” He proceeded to demonstrate exactly how wrong Alec was about that, kissing every patch of cold skin revealed until Alec’s fingers were twisting in his hair and begging Magnus in a broken voice. He drew him into his mouth, only stopping when Alec was a spent sweaty mess, panting against the sheets.
Magnus flopped back onto the bed and stretched lazily, looking smug.
“Yeah, okay,” Alec said in a dazed voice. “Merry Christmas.” Magnus laughed and curled around him, watching with fondness as Alec’s eyelids drooped until he was sure Alec was asleep.
Then he got up and made breakfast. Well, summoned brunch. There was a lightness to him now, his decision made. He could only remember parts of his dream, the love of his friends filling him with a buoyant warmth, the sheer delight at the possibility of having a future together. A long future.
He could recall enough to know that he had to ask Alec. Ask him if he’d stay with him. It was Alec’s choice, and while everything inside Magnus twisted at the thought Alec would say no, somehow he knew that Alec wouldn’t.
It was a feeling that made him merrier than usual over brunch once Alec woke up again, pulling him into the living room and dancing with him to old Rat Pack Christmas Songs as Alec laughed and stumbled over his own feet.
“I missed you,” Magnus told him and Alec rolled his eyes but smiled.
“I was gone for a night.”
“Still missed you.”
And then there were presents and a perfect Cavalli jacket Magnus assumed Izzy had picked out, even if Alec assured him he had seen it first and she’d only approved, and a little later Magnus conjured a traditional Christmas feast for the both of them and got Alec quite tipsy on a delightful Cabernet.
In the dwindling light, as the glow of Alicante grew outside their window, Magnus summoned a fire and a large, fluffy sheepskin run big enough for the two of them in front of it and beckoned Alec closer, his nerves growing.
Alec went willingly and wrapped his arms loosely around Magnus’ waist, pressing a kiss to his lips and then leaning back for what Magnus presumed was a longer kiss, but Magnus stopped him. Alec looked confused and drew back.
“Magnus? What is it?”
Magnus cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "So I have one final gift. But I don't want you to think it's just for you. This is the most selfish gift I can give.”
Alec raised an eyebrow and threw a pointed - and unimpressed, which Magnus would take a moment to be unhappy about later - glance at Magnus’ crotch. He swatted him on the arm.
“Hush, this is serious.“
“The king-size fur rug suggests otherwise, Magnus.”
“Will you please let me talk?” Magnus huffed at Alec and felt better when he’d settled down and schooled his face into a least a facade of listening, taking Magnus’ hand in his own.
“Yesterday I saw an Angel,” Magnus started and then winced when Alec narrowed his eyes at him. He held up two fingers in front of Alec’s mouth. “No, I don’t mean - that’s not a weird pick up line or that I saw someone beautiful, I mean. Literally. The Archangel Michael was over Lake Lyn.”
Alec’s eyes widened and he grabbed Magnus by the shoulders, looking panicked. “Are you ok? What did he want? What’s coming? Do I need to get Jia?”
“No, no…” Magnus sighed. He was doing this all wrong. “Nothing’s wrong. He gave me a gift - a reward. For my closing the rift from Edom.”
Alec’s eyebrows drew together. “But that was ages ago.”
“I know. I’m very aware that this gift most likely benefits them in some way as well. But. I can’t ignore it.”
“What the hell is this gift, Magnus?” He was getting impatient; Magnus could tell by the ticking muscle in his jaw and he instinctively cupped Alec’s face to soothe him. His stomach flipped over and he forced himself to state it plainly.
“He gave me… he gave me a chance to make you immortal. To live forever. With me. If you’d want that.”
Alec inhaled swiftly, looking blindsided, while Magnus searched his face for some indication of emotion other than shock.
“What?” Alec asked faintly, his hand rising to grip Magnus’ wrist. “Wait, say that again.”
“Michael gave me a way that I can bind my life with yours. It would make you immortal. But we have to perform the ritual by midnight tonight.”
Alec remained silent, his eyes flickering over Magnus’ face as if he was expecting Magnus to start laughing and tell him he was just kidding. Magnus’ heart sank.
“Alexander?” Magnus prompted. “Please say something.”
“Is that… no, wait, why would they do that? What do they want in return?”
Magnus frowned. That certainly wasn’t what Alec was originally going to ask. “I don’t know, but it’s safe to assume they’ll have a use for you or us in the future.” He thought about mentioning his dream again, but that on top of an angelic visitation was probably pushing it. And the way Alec was reacting… suddenly he was seized by the conviction that Alec would say no, that he’d rather be normal and mortal than be with Magnus and be seen as something different.
“Does that matter? I know you probably need time to think about it, or speak to your family. Or the Clave, they would probably have something to say about it. I can give you space if you need it -”
“Do you want this?” Alec asked abruptly and then winced, running his hand over his face. “I mean,” he continued in a softer voice, “is this what you want? I can understand if you don’t want an eternity with one person. Or - that’s probably presumptuous, right? That you would want to be with me forever even if I was immortal.”
Magnus all but melted, smoothing his arm around Alec’s neck and pressing close.
“Oh, Alexander. I meant it when I said this gift is a selfish one. I want you by my side for the rest of my life, not just the rest of your mortal one. You’re everything to me.”
“Are you sure? You can’t take it back.”
“Alexander.” Magnus was very firm as he looked up at Alec’s face, holding his worried look. “I can honestly say there is nothing I want more in this life than to have you in it for as long as I possibly can. I vowed to love you as long as I lived and I don’t think I can ever break that vow. It’s just not possible.”
“Magnus,” Alec said, his mouth working but nothing else followed, his gaze flickering over Magnus’ face as if he was a puzzle to be solved.
“Live with me,” Magnus said in a low voice, just above a whisper, his hand tightening on Alec’s neck. He willed him to see how much Magnus wanted this, willed him to find it in his eyes. “ Live with me, Alexander. Please.”
“Yes,” Alec finally said, his voice like gravel. “God, Magnus, yes. Yes. Always. I mean it. You have no idea…” he trailed off and to Magnus’ horror, shaded his eyes and let out a shaky sob, rubbing his hand over his face to wipe away tears. He groped around blindly to find the arm of the couch and then slid onto it gratefully, burying his face in his hands. Magnus followed him, nervously twisting his rings around his fingers. Saying yes but then crying wasn’t the exact response he’d anticipated.
“Fuck,” Alec said shakily after a moment, taking in a deep breath. “Magnus, you have no idea how much I want this, do you?” He finally looked back up at Magnus, his eyes wet and bright, but - oh, but his smile was wide and breathtaking. Something inside Magnus loosened and relaxed as Alec spread his arms open, inviting Magnus over. He promptly sprawled himself on Alec’s lap, causing him to laugh, and wound his arms around Alec’s neck, his nails scratching at the soft skin at the nape of his neck.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “You’ve never told me. It always was an impossible dream, Alexander, one I still can’t quite believe has been simply given to us.” He bit his lip when Alec hugged him closer and buried his face into Magnus’ shoulder, his fingers stroking through his hair.
“Are you sure?”
“Are you going to try to talk me out of it with tales of what a burden immortality can be and how it changes your views on everything?” Alec responded, slightly muffled by Magnus’ cashmere.
Magnus suppressed a small grin and looked at the fire, feeling a certain sense of deja vu from his dream. “Well. Yes. Not talk you out of it, but definitely warn you. You have to know what you’re getting yourself into. Watching most people you love die. Having to continue on. Then there’s putting up with the rest of the immortals - you’ll be sick of us. Sick of me.”
“Never,” Alec said immediately, pulling himself back up. “Magnus, look at me.” Magnus reluctantly pulled his gaze from the flames back to Alec.
“Magnus, I could never get sick of you. Frustrated, yes. Annoyed, sure. Sometimes I still don’t understand you. You’ve lived for centuries and I barely know you and at the same time, know you better than anyone that doesn’t share my soul.” Alec cradled Magnus’ face in his hands and brushed his thumb against his cheekbone, wiping away the tear Magnus hadn’t been aware of.
“I want to stay with you. I want to experience everything with you - yes, even the pain of loss, because we’ll at least be together for it. You make the dark days a little brighter, enough to get me through, and you make the ordinary days completely dazzling.”
Alec wasn’t helping to prevent Magnus from crying more, the reality of the gift finally crystalizing into something definitive in his mind.
“Really?” he asked again.
“Now and for all time,” Alec said solemnly, quoting the traditional Warlock wedding vows. Magnus made a small choked noise and buried his face in Alec’s neck, squeezing him tight. The impossible man who always continued to surprise him.
“I love you,” he whispered into Alec’s skin, and could feel Alec’s smile.
“I love you too.” Alec kissed his forehead and then the side of his face, tracking down until he reached his lips, sharing the sweetest kiss with Magnus that he felt down to his toes.
“And we need to do this now, right?” Alec continued in a business-like tone when he pulled away. “Because I believe you and I have plans for that rug that might take longer than midnight.”
Magnus laughed and brushed at his eyes to wipe away his tears, clambering off Alec as he snapped his fingers for his bag. “We have instructions.” Alec made a pleased sound and started digging through the pouch, pulling out the necessary elements for the ritual.
Magnus caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye and wheeled around, ready for anything, for Angels to try to retrieve the gift, anything at all - and only coming face to face with his reflection in the living room mirror.
But he wasn’t alone. Behind him were Ragnor and Dot and even Madzie, all smiling at him - or at least in Ragnor’s case, not scowling. Madzie gave him a thumbs up and Magnus laughed, looking over his shoulder at nothing, and then back at his friends in the reflection of the room.
When Magnus laughed, Alec looked up from arranging things on the coffee table.
“What? What is it?”
“Nothing,” Magnus said, turning back and smiling at Alexander, his soul soaring as he looked at the best decision he’d ever made, ready to start their eternal life together as soon as possible.
“I was just thinking we need a toast.” He summoned two glasses of champagne and handed one to Alec, clinking their glasses together and then reaching out for Alec’s hand, his heart brimming over with joy.
“Merry Christmas to all.” His gaze flicked back to his friends in the mirror’s reflection. “And to all, a good night.”
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thunder in our hearts
read on ao3
Alec can’t stop himself. He’s worried and shattered and absolutely terrified, but more than any of that, right now he’s furious.
Furious at Lorenzo for taking advantage of Magnus and willfully endangering him at the same time. Furious at Asmodeus for taking his magic in the first place. Furious at the world daring to deal Magnus even an ounce of pain.
Alec had been sitting in the infirmary at Magnus’s side for hours, refusing to look away even for a second, until Catarina convinced him to get some rest. There’s nothing you or I can do but wait, she’d said.
But she was wrong.
There is one thing. One thing Alec can do, even if it won’t help Magnus directly. Even if his boyfriend will still be lying in that bed when he’s done. Even if it won’t repair the effects of his body rejecting the magic. Even if it won’t bring Magnus’s own magic back to him.
He can’t stop himself, and he doesn’t want to.
The door swings open before he can knock. It’s familiar and wrong at the same time.
Magnus should be opening the door for Alec. Magnus should be the one standing at the window, his silhouette dark against the sunlight and gold curtains. Magnus should be the one standing perfectly upright with a healthy glow about him.
Not Lorenzo. Never Lorenzo.
Not in this apartment, the loft Alec had always imagined his and Magnus’s future in.
“Mr. Lightwood,” Lorenzo calls from the window. His voice is light. Chipper. Alec wants to claw the vocal cords from his neck. That would be breaking several of the Accords, he thinks. He’s almost okay with it.
But, no. Magnus wouldn’t want that, or at the very least, he wouldn’t want to see Alec face the consequences of that. Alec won’t do that to Magnus, no matter how much of a worthless, pathetic excuse of a person and High Warlock Lorenzo Rey might be. A placeholder, Alec thinks. A replacement that doesn’t even come close to the original.
“I’m surprised to see you again so soon. Did you decide you want to come with this apartment after all?” Lorenzo asks. Alec feels sick. Genuinely sick, like he could vomit all over the Persian rug that Alec knows for a fact Magnus spent weeks picking out dutifully.
“The magic you gave him. It’s—” Alec cuts off. He can’t bring himself to say it, he can’t. Killing him. “He’s—”
Lorenzo turns, his back to Alec once again. His voice is almost regretful when he speaks, but Alec hears the underlying glee. “His body is rejecting the magic. It’s a shame,” he tuts. He sighs and turns as Alec steps closer. “I did warn him of the risks,” Lorenzo adds, the smugness of his smile making Alec see bright red.
“You didn’t have to give him the magic. You didn’t have to agree,” Alec says through gritted teeth.
Lorenzo tuts again, moving languidly through the loft to the drink cart. “I think we’re both aware of how stubborn Magnus Bane can be. Nothing I did or didn’t do would have made much of a difference.” He pauses, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “Care for one?”
The idea makes Alec sick to his stomach. Hell, even just the sight of Lorenzo using Magnus’s things makes him sick. “No,” he says, waving the offer and thought away. “You did this to him.” His voice is jagged, from tears and anger and every emotion in between, he’s sure. “You’re the reason Magnus is in that infirmary bed.”
“I assure you, Mr. Lightwood, that I am not,” Lorenzo says, his own voice angrier at the accusation. Denying. Defensive. “The same might have happened if he’d gotten the magical transplant from any warlock.”
“He didn’t get it from any warlock. He got it from you. You’re supposed to protect the warlocks of this city. You’re supposed to protect Magnus, whether you want to or not.” Alec’s surprised at the anger in his own voice, at the way he growls the words.
“I only did as Bane asked.” Lorenzo sneers, taking a long sip of his whiskey. “Now I’ll have to ask you to leave—”
“Magnus is my world,” Alec says, the words pulled out of him before he even knows he’s thought them. He steps closer, trying not to think about the desperation in his words, the wavering in his voice. “And if he dies—”
“You’ll what?”
The question is simple enough, one Alec would love nothing more than to answer. He would love nothing more than to send Lorenzo to Hell like Maia sent Heidi because that was what he deserved for hurting the man Alec loves.
But, he can’t.
Because things are never simple, not in their world, and because he is the Head of the New York Institute. A Shadowhunter. One who’s dedicated his short-run of leadership to improving relationships between the Shadowhunters and the Downworld. And Lorenzo is the High Warlock of Brooklyn, even though he isn’t deserving of the position. Lorenzo is a warlock, and regardless of that having absolutely nothing to do with Alec’s motivations, he knows how it would look. He knows the centuries of prejudice his people have shown the Downworld, still show the Downworld.
No, Alec can’t kill Lorenzo Rey, no matter how badly he wants to. No matter how much he deserves to suffer for the humiliation and pain he’s caused Magnus.
The worst thing is, he doesn’t know what he can do. Not yet, not now. He’s too caught up in his own anger, his own grief and pain, and he knows that. He knows he came here in an angry rush, too enraged to think straight, to think past He hurt Magnus and I have to make him pay.
Lorenzo is right in front of him, in his face. A challenge. He knows just as well as Alec that he can’t do anything. “I believe I asked you to leave,” he snarls, and Alec feels himself being pushed back, not by Lorenzo’s hands but by his magic. The same magic coursing through Magnus’s body, the same magic his body is rejecting and putting him through pain. Alec lets it happen, surprised the scream bubbling in his throat hasn’t forced its way out.
Lorenzo doesn’t wait for him leave. He turns and disappears down the hall into the bedroom. Magnus’s bedroom. The bedroom Alec’s been spending almost every night in and wanted to wake up in for the rest of his life by Magnus’s side. The bedroom they made love in for the first time, Alec’s first time. The bedroom Madzie came barrelling into in the mornings when she’d spent the night, jumping up and down asking for pancakes. The bedroom that always reminded him of the feeling of Magnus’s arms around him.
Alec’s skin crawls.
He can’t be here anymore. Can’t be in this loft that still feels so much like home, but so unfamiliar and strange. Can’t be here to see the little changes Lorenzo has made like a spreading infection. Can’t be here to see Lorenzo looking so at home and at ease among the little world Magnus had built for himself, while Magnus himself is lying in the Institute’s infirmary fighting for his life. Can’t be here when Lorenzo himself is the reason Magnus is even in that infirmary bed at all.
He turns to leave, hand reaching towards the doorknob when he spots it. He freezes, eyes glued to the little side table beside the door.
The omamori charm.
The gift he’d given Magnus after their trip to Tokyo. It’s lying on the table, partly underneath a scrap of paper as if it’d been tossed there and forgotten. Overlooked. Alec has no doubt Lorenzo put it there. He remembers how reverently Magnus had looked at the gift, at him. Magnus wouldn’t have treated it like nothing. It must’ve been misplaced and left when they’d quickly packed to temporarily move Magnus into the Institute.
Alec picks it up, his fingers brushing gingerly over the silk. It’s supposed to bring you luck and protection, he’d said when he’d given it to Magnus. By the Angel, he hopes that’s true. He slips it into his pocket and, without a second glance back into the loft, leaves. The door shutting behind him feels infinitely more final than it had when he and Magnus left in the first place.
***
The beeping of the monitor fills him with dread and reassures him simultaneously. It reminds him of last night, of Magnus’s bleeding nose and bloody cough and Magnus falling to the floor in a seizure. It reminds him of the terror from that moment that’s still clamping down on his heart in a grip he know won’t loosen until Magnus wakes.
But it also means his worst fear hasn’t come true. It means Magnus is still here. Still fighting.
Alec’s entire life has revolved around the divine, around angels and demons, but never once has he been certain of God’s existence as he is now. Thank you, thank you, thank you, he thinks. He repeats it over and over, a mantra. A prayer.
Catarina is at Magnus’s side, sitting tensely in the seat Alec himself had occupied for several hours earlier. Her eyes hold a question as she looks up, her mouth in a thin line. Like she wants to know, but is afraid to ask. He doesn’t blame her. I won’t let him get away with this, he’d said before storming out.
“I didn’t touch him,” Alec says, and her face softens instantly. He sees something almost like regret in her eyes. “I wanted to, but I didn’t.”
Cat doesn’t speak. She stands, leaning over Magnus to kiss his forehead before stepping away. Her hand brushes against Alec’s shoulder as she passes. He smiles, but he’s sure it looks tense and disfigured. She shuts the door behind her, a quiet click as it slides into place, leaving Alec alone with Magnus.
He moves to Magnus’s side, collapsing into the seat Catarina had just left. He doesn’t know how he’s been standing all this time, how he walked all the way back from the loft when his legs feel like jelly and his entire soul feels like it’s being torn into jagged pieces.
“Hey, Magnus,” Alec says, and the rawness in his own voice is enough to make his eyes fill with tears. He blinks, willing them away, as his hand slides into Magnus’s lying on the bed. His hand is cold, clammy, and it’s so different from the usual heat Alec associates with his boyfriend. “I’m back. I went to see Lorenzo,” he says, spitting out the name. “Don’t worry,” he adds. “I didn’t do anything stupid.” He laughs, the sound wet and harsh. “I wanted to, though.”
He remembers the omamori in his pocket, suddenly feeling the weight of the little slip of fabric. “I found something that belongs to you,” he says as he slides it out of his pocket. “It was still at the loft.” Alec lets go of Magnus’s hand, slipping the charm into his hand instead and folding his fingers gently around it. “I took it back. I don’t think Lorenzo will miss it, and it wasn’t for him, anyways.”
“I, uh--I really need you to wake up, Magnus,” Alec says, and he hates how choked the words sound. Hates that he has to say them at all. “I can’t do this without you, any of this. I can’t--I can’t live without you. I said that to you before, and I meant it then, and I still mean it now.”
He closes his eyes, wraps his hands around Magnus’s. “I love you, and I need you, and you were right. I do miss your cat eyes. Like a lot, and it would be really great if I could see them again, right now. If you just--wake up, please.”
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t, and Alec feels the exhaustion of the last twenty-hours settle over him like a weight. He scoots his chair closer to the bed, laying his head down on the mattress. He uses one arm as a pillow, his other hand still firmly gripped around Magnus’s.
He lets himself drift into sleep, lulled by the beeping of the monitor and the faint pulse he can feel in Magnus’s wrist.
#malec fics#malec fanfic#alec lightwood#magnus bane#malec#shadowhunters#my fic#based on the 3x16 promo
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Okay but consider this: SH soulmates AU where when you meat your soulmate a golden energy cuff forms on your writs, keeping you together until you kiss and make up. The moment Jace meets Magnus they get stuck together. Jace kisses Magnus hoping it'll solve it but apparently the make up means more like "establish an actual emotional bond that will ensure you won't run for the hills" and is required. Alec cackles a lot at Jace until Jace gleefully informs him Alec will be making excuses for-- 1/2
2/2 –him at the Institute because Jace is NOT coming home soulbond-shackled to a warlock with reputation. Lots of Jagnus UST and banter. Maybe in the end Jace gets his revenge when Alec gets equally chained to a random mundie/wolf 👀 on a mission. Also a nice layer of angst because back when Alec had a crush on Jace he knew they aren’t soulmates.
*frowns at you* Why are you doing this to me? I see this as a personal attack on my person. I am supposed to write this hella smutty PWP Ethan/Nico/Jason/Percy foursome that somehow already has 12 pages and they ain’t even together yet, I don’t have time to get distracted by shiny Jagnus–
Magnus blinked, a half-amused look on his face. Thepretty blonde in front of him looked mainly annoyed. Not so much atMagnus personally - or so Magnus assumed - but rather the situation.
Not everyone was lucky enough to meettheir soulmate. Those who did ended up literally linked to eachother. A golden glowing link that tied them together and didn't allowmuch room to move apart from each other. The direct connection lasteduntil a mental connection was established.
Until the bond was fully accepted andformed.
Usually, that happened rather quickly.It was a natural reaction, to fall in love with your soulmate. Theyusually always found an angle they shared, something that connectedthem. Then, when they shared True Love's kiss, the physical bindingsdissolved, leaving nothing but a golden ring around their wrists toindicate that they had indeed already found their soulmate. And thenthey lived happily ever after.
As things stood, having a bunch ofShadowhunters in his loft after an attack on his club was notentirely how Magnus had imagined meeting his soulmate. Though theblonde with the plush lips and mismatched eyes was very niceto look at.
“Well. That's unexpected”, notedthe very tall one.
“Oh, really, Alec. Thanks forthe input”, snarked pretty blonde.
Magnus smiled amused. “Now, now. Noneed to fight. How about some introductions? Magnus Bane, it's apleasure to meet you.”
“Jace Wayland”, grunted the blonde,seizing Magnus up. “How do we get rid of those cuffs?”
“True Love's kiss. That's always whatdoes the trick”, offered Alec and rolled his eyes.
Jace sighed and grabbed Magnus by theneck with his free hand. He offered Magnus a questioning look atwhich the warlock leaned down to seal Jace's lips. They were soft andJace gladly parted them for him. The Shadowhunter was surprisinglycompliant and Magnus found himself wrapping his free arm aroundJace's waist to hold him in place, as though he was afraid Jace wasjust going to melt away beneath him. When they parted, golden-blueeyes stared up at Magnus in a way the warlock could easily get usedto.
“Well, that didn't work”, notedAlec in the same deadpan voice as before.
“Great”, grunted Jace annoyed as helooked down. “Just... great.”
“Guess you're stuck together untilyou come to a mutual understanding of each other”, stated Alec witha slight snicker. “Wonderful. You could have a tea, share childhoodstories. Oh, maybe you can wear matching clothes.”
“Laugh all you want. You're the onewho has to come up with some kind of explanation”, growledJace, wagging a finger at Alec. “Come up with an excuse, something,anything. I just... I am not returning to the Institute,chained to the High Warlock of Brooklyn.”
Magnus made a slightly amused face atthat. It was fair enough; everybody knew the Clave only pretended tobe progressive. They didn't care much for Downworlders.
“Fine”, sighed Alec before heturned to glare at Magnus father fiercely. “You. If you harm myparabatai, I'm coming back for you and I don't care if you're theHigh Warlock of Brooklyn or not.”
“I assure you, harming my soulmate isnot something I'd ever do”, promised Magnus honestly, a bittouched by the Shadowhunter's concern for Magnus' soulmate.
And now that was a thought that filledMagnus with warmth. His soulmate. So many centuries alone. Now,finally, he had found his other half. He was never going tolet harm come to Jace, he was going to do his everything to protectJace from here on out.
“It's a slumber party then”,chuckled Magnus cheerfully.
“Just until we forge this...connection, whatever”, grunted Jace defensively.
“Of course, of course. For now,drinks?”, offered Magnus.
Jace heaved a sigh and accepted hisdrink gladly while watching the others leave the loft. This was goingto be... an experience.
Jace wake up feeling warm and surprisingly well-rested.He blinked blearily and looked around, just to notice that he wassleeping on someone's chest, in a bed that wasn't his own. Said otherperson was the reason he felt so warm. An arm was wrapped around hiswaist, holding him close.
“Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”
Blinking slowly, Jace looked up at Magnus Bane. Thewarlock was smirking down at him, looking decidedly too handsome thatearly in the morning. Jace had heardabout him. Heard all about the High Warlock with the changingbed-companions. Even more of a reputation than Jace. Then again, healso was at it for a couple more centuries than Jace. Now Jace had aplayboy soulmate, huh. Well, probably served him right; he had neverbeen very chaste either. Still – how was Jace going to live up tocenturies of most likely incredible sex? Not to mention, he was aShadowhunter, Magnus was a warlock. Neither of their communities weregoing to be big fans of that.
“...What happened?”,grunted Jace and looked at their linked hands.
They were holdinghands, the hands that were cuffed together with the goldensoulmate-bound. Their hands were laying on Magnus' chest, right nextto Jace's face. He considered getting up and bolting, but then again– where to? They had maybe two inches of range with the cuffs.
“We drank. A lot. Andthen you fell asleep on me. It was a bit difficult maneuvering youinto the bed, but I made due”, chuckled Magnus. “You're a heavysleeper.”
Actually, he wasn't. Hewas a very light sleeper; being raised by his father had done that tohim. Was this the effect of the soulmate thing...? Was... hissoulmate seriously making him feel safe enough to sleep? No. That wasridiculous. Right? Sure, soulmates were supposed to be all of that –protection, safety, love – but he didn't even knowthe guy. Magnus' arm felt heavy on his waist all of a sudden, likeJace was acutely aware of it now. Warm, oddly comforting.
“Great. So. What arewe going to do about this...?”,grunted Jace, pointing at their joined hands.
“Get to know eachother to establish the soul-bond to solve the soul-bound”, offeredMagnus.
“That'll require moredrinking”, muttered Jace pointedly.
There was alot of drinking. They basicallyturned sharing their past into a drinking game and a competition. HowJace's mother had died before his birth and how he had been raised byhis father alone, that was until Jace witnessed the bloody death ofMichael Wayland. Magnus' mother had killed herself and Magnus hadended up killing his stepfather, who had not been able to deal withthe warlock child either. Faced with that, and also quite some drinksin, Jace had opened up about the abuse he had suffered at the handsof his father – the story of his falcon and... quite some more.
At that point, theybasically got lost in a competition of all the things that went wrongin their lives. Every wrong decision, every disappointment, everybroken heart and broken bone. It was oddly cathartic, for the both ofthem. Most of those things, neither had ever shared with someoneelse.
By the time eveningrolled around, they were both rather drunk and emotionally drained.Leaning against each other, they made their way to the bedroom andcollapsed on it arm in arm.
“For what it'sworth”, started Jace, voice low and a little lulled. “I'llnever... cheat on you. I don't do that shit. Like, whatever we'regonna be, I'm not gonna betray your trust like that.”
Magnus smiled faintly,feeling touched. “Thank you, sweetheart. And I promise, I'll notlet love destroy either of us. I'll not let something happen to youagain.”
Looking at Magnus –at the most powerful warlock in all of New York and most likelybeyond – Jace couldn't help but actually believe those words. Hehad never felt that safe with someone before. He had never sharedmost of those things with anyone but his parabatai. Was this it? Wasthis why soulmates existed? To have someone to rely on, to trust, toprotect and be protected by?
“I...”, startedJace softly before leaning in.
“Yes”, agreedMagnus slowly, bridging the last inch between them.
This kiss feltimpossibly soft, like their lips were barely touching. And when theyparted, Magnus could freely cup Jace's face with both hands. Not thateither of them noticed, they were too lost in each other's eyes. Jacesighed contently and laid down on Magnus' chest, closing his eyes.
Magnus woke up withquite the headache from drinking all day yesterday and also with anodd feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had never talked thisfreely about his mother with anyone but Catarina and Ragnor. Therereally was a truth to soulmates though; he had instantly felt like hecould trust Jace and hearing his soulmate open up to him had told himhe had made the right call.
Using his magic, Magnussummoned a large breakfast for them both and sat up. That was when henoticed that he could use both his hands freely. He stared inamazement at the golden tattoo around his wrist, the band signifyingthat he had found his soulmate. From that, he turned to look at hispeacefully sleeping soulmate. The blonde was still snuggled up tohim. Which, in itself, was kind of nice. To wake up to someone,feeling his warmth pressed against him. It felt comfortable. Safe.
“You're staring atme. It's creepy, Bane”, grunted Jace teasingly.
“Well, seems likeyou'd have to get used to it”, countered Magnus, waving at Jace.
It took the blonde amoment to realize why Magnus was waving at him – their hands. Theywere free. Wait. How... Had sharing about their crappy childhoodsseriously forged a deep enough bond to break the stupid magic? Jaceturned his hand curiously, staring at it.
“Huh. So... uhm...What now?”, inquired Jace slowly.
“Now, breakfast. AndI suspect you have work. Perhaps... a date, after?”, suggestedMagnus gently.
“Sounds... like aplan”, agreed Jace with a small smile.
#kimmycup#IF YOU WANT MORE#YOU WRITE IT BABE#(*refers to the Balec*)#OTP: keep it in your pants#Jagnus#Magnus Bane#Jace Herondale#Shadowhunters#Fanfiction#Soulmate AU
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i can’t breathe (sneak peek)
NOW. I wasn’t gonna post this after this week’s episode happened because ouch my soul. And I don’t have time to update multiple WIPs. So after this I’ll be posting the entirety of this fic on AO3 when it’s finished, which won’t be for a couple weeks unfortunately but I swear it’s coming, it’s just become a bit more of a project than I had originally thought
HOWEVER
Y’all are yelling at me to post something so fine here’s the opening scene, have fun crying
A couple things: this goes AU after 3x17, Magnus has the loft because I wasn’t creative enough to figure out another solution and he had to have his own place for the purposes of this fic, and this takes place about a month after the almost proposal because the Shadowhunters timeline is GARBAGE and I refuse to accept it
If you REALLY like pain, I was listening to lovely feat. Khalid by Billie Eilish and i can’t breathe by Bea Miller on repeat while I was writing this (Bea Miller’s song is the inspo for the title and various thematic elements of this angst monster) (also wow way to drive a knife in my heart with that scene and that song Shadowhunters fuck u very much)
Feel free to scream or ask questions in my ask
TW for depressive thoughts and all the Magnus feels
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Waking up becomes the worst part of his day.
Sleep is bliss—there is no reality in dreams. He’s filled to the brim with power, the familiar hum of magic coursing through his body, as steady as Alec’s heartbeat. It comes out of him in waves, blue fire wrapping delicately around the loft and out to the balcony and caressing his skin like a lover’s lips. He’s drunk and high and having an orgasm all at once and he’s never felt this alive.
For a moment, when he wakes up, golden light casting across the bed from the bay window and dancing tenderly on his skin, nothing is different. Nothing is missing.
But then, the knowledge of his new reality comes crashing down on him like a tsunami, and Magnus is drowning in grief, as if that part of him—the only part he really knows—died.
Every day is a new kind of hell—he might as well have stayed in Edom.
Magnus breaks out of his traitorous thoughts when he feels something stirring next to him: Alec, grunting softly as he rolls over. His long lashes flutter, opening to reveal big pale eyes that are clouded over with sleep.
He yawns until his jaw cracks and mutters, “Hey.”
Magnus gives him a small smile, barely a quirk of his lips.
“Good morning.”
Alec shuffles closer into Magnus’ side, clearly not ready to get out of the comfortable cocoon of blankets he’s sequestered himself in.
Normally, Magnus adores Alec in the morning; he’s the softest Magnus ever sees him, wanting nothing but warmth and sweetness. He reminds him fondly of a cat lying in a sun patch on the floor, sprawling his limbs out over the bed or on top of Magnus. He normally could spend hours tracing the runes on his pale skin, slowly waking Alec up with feather light kisses and barely there fingertips.
That was before, though. That was Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn.
He has no idea who Magnus Bane the mundane is, and Alec’s sleepy embrace only reminds him, with a pang, of what he no longer has.
Magnus extracts himself from the bed with some difficulty, Alec’s arms tightening around him like a boa constrictor. Alec groans in protest, lifting his head to drowsily glare at Magnus.
“Where are you going?” he pouts.
“Coffee,” Magnus says, because he knows it’s an answer Alec will wholeheartedly accept. There’s no limit to Alec’s caffeine addiction.
“Oh, okay,” Alec murmurs, predictably, sinking back down into the bed.
A part of Magnus, growing louder by the second, demands that he crawl back into bed and wrap himself up in his all too enticing boyfriend, thinking of nothing but them, existing in this space like nothing is wrong and there’s no gnawing pit in his stomach.
He can’t, though. He’s already put Alec through so much—Magnus doesn’t understand why he stays, why he lets Magnus do things like ruin romantic dinners or pick fights and cry, why he’s so patient and good. Far better than Magnus can ever be, that’s for sure. He doesn’t deserve it, and Alec especially doesn’t deserve what Magnus is giving him in return.
Which is, well, nothing. Nothing at all.
“I’ll be right back,” Magnus says, feeling suddenly overwhelmed and hoping Alec is still too tired to detect the note of panic in his voice.
He leaves the stifling bedroom and pads down the hall, his fingers automatically coming together in a phantom snap for coffee to begin brewing. The air rushes out of him when he remembers. Everything’s manual now.
As Magnus preps the coffee, he recalls, his face wrinkled in slight disgust, soon after he’d lost his magic for good. He’d almost had a breakdown over the damn machine, when he’d gone to make some for himself and Alec one morning and realized he had no idea how to actually make coffee.
Alec had wandered into the kitchen, wondering what was taking Magnus so long, and had found him sitting on the floor, head hanging low with the machine in pieces around him.
Of course—because Alec really must be one of those white knights in fairy tales—he’d hauled Magnus to his feet and helped him pick out a new coffee maker, a simple gold without any bells or whistles. When they got back, Alec sat Magnus down at the kitchen island and--with a teacher’s patience and a protective desire that was all Alec--walked him through how to make a perfect pot of coffee by hand.
Magnus pours the coffee into two mugs now, his fingers tingling when colliding with the warm ceramic. When he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend it’s the feeling of magic sparking at his fingertips.
Almost.
He goes back into the bedroom and finds Alec out of bed, pulling on a shirt. His phone lies on the edge of the bed, and his hair clings to his forehead, damp from the shower. Magnus wonders just how long he was in the kitchen for.
Alec makes no comment on it. He takes the mug Magnus offers him gratefully and sips, grinning at him.
“Perfect,” he says, eyes incredibly soft as he gazes at Magnus.
Magnus fidgets, a feeling of guilt that’s been ever-present lately when he looks at Alec washing over him.
“I have to go,” Alec says, apologetic, after a few moments of silence. “I’m sorry, Jace called, it’s important.”
Magnus nods his head too fast.
“Of course,” he says, more than a little relieved that Alec is leaving. He loves Alec, loves his grounding presence, but if he has to endure another day of pitying glances he might scream.
“You gonna be okay?” Alec asks, eyes probing as he slips on his leather jacket.
“Who, moi?” Magnus rolls his eyes, playing up nonchalance for Alec’s benefit. “I’ll be just fine. I’ve got some house stuff I’ve been meaning to take care of anyway. Dusting, scrubbing, Marie Kondo-ing. You know.”
Alec pauses in lacing up his boots, looking at Magnus in suspicion. Clearly, Magnus isn’t doing as good a job of hiding his emotions as he thinks he is.
Alec smashed through all of Magnus’ walls without even trying, by simply existing, and Magnus has to fight to rebuild in the wake of his new identity. He hates it, and he’s more than positive Alec isn’t pleased with it either, if the disastrous dinner on the balcony almost a month ago now is anything to go by. But he has to protect himself and without his magic, he doesn’t have very many ways left to do that. He’s safe behind the walls; nothing can hurt him here.
“You sure? I can try and leave work early, make Jace or Izzy take some paperwork for me—”
Magnus cuts him off, painting a wide smile on his face with as much false joy as he can muster.
“No!” he says, too earnest. “I’m fine, darling, honestly. You’ve got Shadowhunters to order around, you don’t need to worry about me.”
Alec slides his phone into his pocket and steps forward, closing the distance between them and cupping Magnus’ cheek with his palm. His eyes run over Magnus’ features, looking for… something.
“I always worry about you,” he murmurs.
Magnus doesn’t know what to say. If Magnus is fighting to rebuild his walls, Alec’s are crumbling down like skyscrapers in an earthquake. He’d worked so hard to get Alec to expose himself, and now that they’re here, Alec bearing everything to him in that urgently sweet way of his, all Magnus wants to do is hide.
He settles for a small smile, leaning into Alec’s hand and kissing his palm.
Alec’s phone buzzes violently in his pocket, and he winces.
“Gotta go,” he says, kissing Magnus’ forehead and disappearing out of the bedroom.
Magnus hears Alec’s tender call of ‘see you tonight, love you!’ as he leaves, the door falling shut behind him.
The loft is quiet, too quiet now, and Magnus stares off into the distance, embracing the hollowness of his chest as another empty, useless day stretches out before him, like the gray ocean fading into the horizon.
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A Collection of His Own
Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Words: 1783
Summary: There’s a very thin line between them, a tightrope string, and it’s Alec’s intention to tread it with the utmost care. // A missing scene for 3x05.
Read on AO3 or below the cut xx
“Are you staying tonight?”
Alec leans back against his desk, his stele flipping idly between the fingers of his left hand, almost of their own accord. “I don’t know.”
Magnus sighs across the line. The distance between them has never felt so palpable. Not even when they were apart had the Institute seemed so far from Brooklyn, and the loft he had begun to consider home.
It’s not. Not yet. It’s just Magnus’ home. Alec is a casual visitor, allowed to touch and exist within the walls and wards, but never to stay. Never permanent.
“I understand if you need space, Alexander, I wouldn’t take that from you. That isn’t why I’m asking.” Magnus pauses, the silence heavy and electric. Alec glances down, and only then realises that he’s still wearing Magnus’ shirt.
“Why are you asking?” Alec’s heart screams in protest, but then, he’s always had a bad habit of self-destruction.
“Because I love you.” Magnus states. Alec’s lungs deflate. “And because despite my fears I miss you when you’re not here, and I-” Magnus clears his throat. “Because everything is better when you’re around.”
Alec glances at the door, at the spot where Underhill had stood and thanked him , for being brave enough to come out in a world where it’s not even spoken off; where Underhill had almost gushed in praise of his ability to maintain a healthy, loving relationship.
It’s not much of a healthy relationship if they can’t even communicate openly with each other.
“I don’t have much left here to finish up.” Alec whispers, wishing his voice were stronger.
“I’ll whip up a portal.”
“You know, I could have walked. Manhattan isn’t that far, when you’ve got a speed rune.”
Magnus is standing by his drinks cart, although there’s nothing in his hand, but a small, red and gold charm. He smiles, and it’s a little strained, but it meets his eyes and that’s all Alec can hope for. “You Shadowhunters and your runes.” Magnus’ smile softens. “I don’t mind, Alexander. Actually, portalling you was rather selfish on my part.”
Alec raises a dark eyebrow, stepping forward as the last of the portal winks shut behind him.
“It decreases the time that I have to wait until I can see you again.”
Alec bites back comments that wouldn’t float well in the suffocating atmosphere, knowing it’s not him, not really; it’s the voice of fear inside of him, the part of him that’s always worried he’ll be forgotten, the part that can’t shake off the feeling he isn’t enough, and never will be.
“I’m here now.” He says, instead. “All yours.”
The words drift in the air between them, and it feels awkward, in the way that everything Alec said after he told Magnus he was going to marry Lydia had felt awkward . Alec shrugs his shoulders back, his leather jacket rustling with the movement.
“Would you like a drink?” Magnus asks, already turning to face the drinks cart. “Or are those earlier cocktails still leaving shockwaves?”
Alec curls his fingers against the nape of his neck. “I think I’m going to make a coffee, actually.”
Magnus nods. “Of course. Maybe we can have our respective drinks on the balcony, the fresh air might do us both some good.”
Alec smiles, but it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t sit in the places it should. “I’d love that.”
Magnus looks, for a moment, as though there’s something more he wants to say, but then he’s nodding again, spinning on his heel with more blue sparks than his magic usually requires, and Alec turns away too, because he knows when Magnus is trying to hide.
There’s a very thin line between them, a tightrope string, and it’s Alec’s intention to tread it with the utmost care.
“It’s a beautiful night.”
Alec exhales across the surface of his coffee, steam rising in coils before his face. “Surprisingly clear, for New York. I think I can almost see the moon.”
“That’s a jet plane.” There’s a smile to Magnus’ tone. “But there’s a few stars out, trying their best to show through the city fog.”
Alec sips his coffee, even knowing it’s too hot, knowing it will burn the edge of his tongue. A part of him welcomes the sting.
“Alexander-”
Alec sucks in a sharp breath. “Please, don’t.” His exhale doesn’t ease the weight on his lungs. “Don’t, pretend that nothing happened, that I didn’t snoop or that you didn’t yell or that there isn’t this, this gap between us. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen. That won’t fix anything.”
“I am not trying to pretend anything,” Magnus stares out across the New York city landscape, at the flickering lights and bustling cars and the people living their carefree lives. “I told you, I want to live in the now . Our world is at constant risk, there’s danger and death at every corner, Alexander, I just - want to appreciate the time I have to spend with you, while I have it.”
Alec’s heart breaks a little.
“I’m sorry.” He wonders if a cocktail might have been a better option. “I don’t want to, I mean, I never really…”
“This is very new, to us both.” Magnus reaches out, tentatively. Alec turns his hand, so that his palm is facing up, and Magnus interlaces their fingers. “But we can’t lose sight of what is important. I love you. That is all I want to think about tonight.”
Alec lifts their joined hands, brushing a tender, aching kiss across Magnus’ knuckles. “Then that is all that matters.”
The navy blue sheets are cold against Alec’s bare calves, the hairs on his forearms standing on end even as the bedroom warms with a slow heat. It’s a strange feeling, almost as though he’s teetering on a double-edged sword, stuck between knowing that he’s welcome here, and not entirely feeling it.
“I’m really glad you’re here.” Magnus says, leaning against the bathroom door frame. “I don’t think I say it enough, when you are.”
Alec licks his bottom lip, his throat dry. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Magnus smiles, and it’s tight but fond, and Alec thinks that not everything has to be easy for it to be good. “Flirt.” He says, though they both know he means something else.
Alec pulls the covers of Magnus’ side back, letting his heart settle as Magnus disrobes, something achingly familiar in the dip of the bed as Magnus slips in. He doesn’t sleep as well when Magnus isn’t there, and a selfish part of him hopes that it is the same for Magnus.
Most days he hates that part of himself, because it’s hardly ever quiet.
“Something, uh-” Alec curls his hand in the navy covers, his other hand resting flat on his chest. “Something interesting happened, at the Institute, today.”
Magnus rolls over onto his side, one hand flat beneath his cheek. “More interesting than someone tracking ichor into the entry? Did you finally replace that, frankly disgusting and lacklustre coffee? Did the Inquisitor turn up unannounced without her pole?”
Alec swats at Magnus’ shoulder, a laugh bubbling from his throat without his realising it. “Yes, more interesting than that. This is serious, Magnus.”
He doesn’t mention how good it feels, to laugh, even if it just for a second. Magnus leans forward, pressing a kiss to Alec’s bare shoulder, his smile bright enough to illuminate the entire room. “My apologies. Please, continue with your very serious story.”
Alec frowns, even as his smile persists. It’s a heavy thing to talk about, and things are far from perfect between them, but Magnus has this uncanny ability to make him feel calm and at ease, if not happy, and Alec is revelling in that.
“There’s a Shadowhunter, Underhill; he’s the new head of security.”
Magnus hums. “A VIP then.”
Alec shakes his head, then stops. “I suppose, yeah. He’s good at his job, really good. Doesn’t interfere or question much, always steps up to do whatever he can. My mom would say he’s the perfect soldier.”
Magnus freezes, then asks, his tone a careful whisper. “Would that be a compliment?”
Alec inclines his head. “I think so. I’d use it as such. Anyway, because he’s new, and because he’s so unassuming, I’ve never considered much about him past the glowing recommendations from Idris. Turns out, he’s been a perfect soldier for ten years, and - in all of that time, he never felt comfortable really being himself.”
Magnus makes a pointed noise, and Alec rolls over, until they’re facing each other, hands clasped between them, though not yet touching. “You mean?”
Alec nods, the answer there without question. “He’s gay. He said that, that I was inspiring and that my courage helped him come out, himself. I don’t know, if he has a partner or anything, although he spoke almost as though he did. I was a little too struck to ask.”
“You’re paving the way for people like you,” Magnus smiles, lifting his hand until it’s cupping Alec’s cheek. “It’s inspiring on its own, but you’re also running an Institute, and you’ve been more successful than the last two predecessors, if I’m honest.”
Alec purses his lips, cheek warm beneath Magnus’ palm. “I’m just doing my job.”
Magnus huffs out a fond laugh. “Don’t you see, Alexander? That is the point. You are the best for the job, you always have been, but you haven’t had to make compromises to get here. That is what inspires people.”
Magnus looks at Alec, then, like he is the world. “I should know. You inspire me every day.”
If Alec’s heart skips a beat, it’s only because he’s holding his breath, and not because Magnus’ words have danced their way between his ribs. If Alec feels a little part of himself breaking away, it’s only because that piece never belonged to him anyway.
If Alec’s hands shake when they wrap around Magnus’, it’s only because some days, he still can’t believe how lucky is, to be loved so deeply by Magnus Bane.
Things aren’t easy, their world is in turmoil and their relationship is sailing towards a rocky cliff, but Alec was always taught that most things took effort, and some were simply unexplainable. He and Magnus, they’re a rare combination of everything he ever thought he knew, and a thousand more things he never could have imagined.
He isn’t the first. He won’t be the last. But for now, he is the one whom Magnus loves, and Alec isn’t foolish enough to throw away the best thing that has ever happened to him.
He’ll take what he can get, each precious, fragile moment. A collection of his own.
#malec#malec fic#my writing#missing scene#shfanficnexus#canon compliant ish#coda fic#magnus bane#alec lightwood#shadowhunters#sh fic#my fic#fluff and angst#feels#bittersweet ending#post 3x05#pre 3x06
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That Hat Has Become the Bane of my Existence
"Hey, Lady Hummel,"
"Yeah?" Kurt turned to look at Santana, who was holding a hot pink hat, "What in the name of all things-"
"I think you should buy it," Santana was grinning as she plopped the hat on his head, adjusting it until it was perfect. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork, and Kurt struck a pose. "You rock it," She laughed.
"Of course I do," He turned to admire himself in the mirror. He hummed, "I think it's growing on me."
Santana rested her hands on his shoulders, "It's beautifully and extravagantly gay. Just like you. It's a match made in heaven!"
That was almost a week ago, and Kurt had nearly forgotten about the hat, thanks to the other bounty he collected during that adventure with Santana.
"Rachel!" He yelled across the apartment, "Emergency!"
Rachel snorted, "You always manage to find perfect headwear, and besides, it's only the diner."
He heard a vague crash from somewhere in the loft but decided to worry about it later. Rachel slid into his room in her socks, out of breath. "What's wrong, Kurt?"
"I can't find appropriate headwear,"
"Rachel," He said her name it that way that he knew infuriated her, she hated when she didn't know something. "You remember that raffle thing right?"
"Yeah, but you've already gotten so many great opportunities! You don't need to perform in front of some random critic! You're already making it!"
"Opportunities are opportunities, Rachel. I'm not just going to give this one up. It's landing right in my lap."
She shook her head but glanced at the hats spread across his bed, "So you don't want any of these?"
"Right,"
"What about that one you got with Santana? The pink one with the flower? That's not in this array."
Kurt grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and shook her, before racing off into Rachel's room.
She chased him in there, "What are you doing?"
"I put the hat in here 'cause I didn't have any space in my hat collection. And it's not like you use that space," His voice was so matter-of-fact that Rachel couldn't argue.
"Ah-ha! He exclaimed, pulling out the hatbox.
"Wait, Kurt, no!" She lunged for him, but it was too late. Everything she had along the top of her closet collapsed right on top of Rachel and Kurt.
~~~~~
"Babe, please, for the love of all bowties take that damn hat off,"
"No!" Kurt exclaimed, trying to wrap his arms protectively around the hat currently resting on his head.
"Kurt," Rachel said softly, "Please take the hat off."
"It was adorable for the first week, but it's been two weeks,"
"And you haven't even washed your hair," Rachel finished.
"It's concerning," Blaine said, nodding.
"But I got it with Santana at the Broadway flea market! And it made me win that raffle at the diner to perform in front of that scout! She loved me!"
"Kurt," Blaine said, taking his face in his hands and forcing him to look at him,
"You wear it when we have sex."
They both heard Rachel choke from next to Blaine on the couch.
"Blaine, I love you. But this hat..."
Blaine leaned back, his eyebrows raised.
"Now, if you two will excuse me from this," He looked over them with a scrutinizing look, "Intervention. I have places to be." He stood up, dusted himself off, and strode out the door, adjusting that disturbing pink hat as he went.
"Blaine, you know he didn't mean that." Rachel reached out but Blaine shook her off and followed Kurt out the door.
~~~~~
Blaine could see his breath in the cold air as he twisted through the dark streets of New York. He had a horrible flash of Kurt winding up in another hospital bed if he continued walking around in the dark with that hat and attitude, so he started walking much faster.
He caught up to his fiancé, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning Kurt to face him.
"Kurt, that critic didn't' love you because of some stupid hat you found with Santana that's previous owner is probably a dead woman that never even wore it. You blew away that critic because you, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, are sensational."
Kurt only looked at him.
"You are the best singer I have ever heard in my entire life, and you have barely done anything at all since you put this hat on."
"Please, Kurt," Blaine sighed, "I want my fiancé back."
Kurt pulled away from Blaine, backing a few steps away. Blaine worried that this was it. He wouldn't be able to do anything, that Kurt would waste away because of a fucking pink hat. Maybe he would kill Santana? Yes, that's what he would do. Then he and Brittany would have to live sadly ever after together.
Blaine was shaken out of his spiral when Kurt lifted the hat very slowly off his head. As soon as it was off, it was like a spell broke. Kurt started at the hat with utter disgust, "I don't need you," He told it, before just tossing it out of sight.
"That's littering, babe."
-------------------------------------------
Kurt only laughed before lunging forward and capturing Blaine's lips with his.
So, Blaine wouldn't have to live sadly ever after with Brittany S. Pierce after all.
So. I don’t really know what this is but I was working on my ice hockey/figure skater forbidden romance but I was on the phone with my best friend Maddie (who has the same middle name as Kurt Hummel. Is she his mom? Idk, maybe) so...this is for her? *mwah* you bitch @i-told-him-it-was-joe
#idk#i need help#klaine#glee fanfiction#glee#brittana#blaine anderson#kurt hummel#rachel berry#santana lopez#brittany s pierce
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