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alexanderlightweight · 8 months

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I desperately want to prompt. But it's mostly just bc I wanna see what you'll write. Not even anything specific. I just love what you come up for malec. Is there anything that's got you in its grasp you'd like to get out in the world?

this an awesme prompt and i'm happy for anything sent in because it does make my brain think!

originally i was going to write something for a favorite verse but then i realized that this is super open-worded and you have unleashed a hidden away verse!

so this is 'under my skin' and i have at some point posted two snippets of it randomly and they weren't in relation to writing wednesday because i wasn't planning on unleashing yet another verse without a specific prompt or finishing the fic but i love this fic and i can't say that your prmpt doesn't fit it since i keep going back to the strategizing board for this fic (it has some twists i've haven't explored in depth before in regards to the clave and alicante)

i can't explain yet how different the direction of this fic is going to go because that would give it away ^_^

i cleaned the beginning up a bit and i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

Magnus stares at the two fighters and licks his lips, glamour dropping as he uses his enhanced vision to see through the visual ward on the taller of the two fighters.

He’s runed, enticingly so at that and Magnus waves away his normal company and entertainment.

He’s enthralled by the fight, but mostly because of the shadowhunter and fury bleeds into him when the seelie gets a hand on runed muscles and skin against skin.

Blood spills, the seelie pressing too-sharp nails in and up across the hunter’s ribs and the shadowhunter falls back, dropping into a crouch and wrapping his arm around his torso.

He’s steadying himself, gearing himself up for another go and Magnus can’t stand it.

This is his domain.

It exists for Magnus’ entertainment.

And he finds he is no longer entertained.

“Bring them both to me, now.” He orders and he activates the magic that has each fighter wrapped in magical bonds. Normally Magnus lets the bonds drain from the leylines the arena is on, but he keeps a careful hold of them this time.

“Are the fights over?” The manager of the ring asks hesitantly and Magnus rolls his eyes and summons himself a drink.

“No,” he waves his hand, “you can return to your clients battering each other for the thrill.” Magnus says and he zeroes in on the two fighters being guided to him.

One of them is touching his hidden shadowhunter and Magnus bites back the urge to set her unnecessary hands on fire.

“What was the prize for winning?” He asks immediately; because that’s normally the reason people are paired up. Two fighters mutually looking to trade.

The shadowhunter is scowling at the seelie who looks incredibly pleased with himself.

“Something a little more fun than fighting.” The seelie said and Magnus feels his fading anger reignite.

“Information.” The shadowhunter says cooly and there is derision in his voice as he matches gaze with the seelie, “you never would have won.” There’s a promise in his eyes that he would have managed to kill either the seelie or even himself first.

“I disagree,” Magnus says and he tightens the bonds of his magic warningly when his shadowhunter tenses.

“I announce you as the winner.” Magnus says to the seelie, suddenly very bored and done with trying to hold his temper back. “Your prize is the honor of me killing you, you should never have overstepped.” Magnus smiles when the seelie tries to take a desperate step back and snaps his fingers

Blood splatters across his hunter and the guards escorting both fighters and while his shadowhunter doesn’t flinch, he is looking at Magnus with wild, wary and awed eyes.

“Now then, how about you strip off your glamour, pretty boy, it can’t be comfortable hiding away your runes.”

Magnus casually steps through viscera and brain matter and summons a handkerchief. He reaches up and begins to gently dab away the seelie’s blood that is dirtying his boy’s — potentially his boy — face.

He sends the guards a pointed look.

They’re completely unnecessary now that they’ve fetched his shadowhunter and now on cleanup.

It’s easy to get a grip on his hunter’s elbow and escort him along — Magnus is being gentle, not merely dragging him along by the magic entangling him.

“I— shit, I don’t understand.” He’s told in a hoarse, quiet voice and Magnus just hums as he finally gets a chance to look his hunter over. Magnus hisses in true sympathy when his boy flinches away from the wounds on his ribs that Magnus presses his fingers to.

“This space, all of it, exists for my entertainment, darling.” Magnus says and he smirks darkly when hazel eyes widen. “And while I am entertained by a pretty boy like you covering up his runes to make bets he shouldn’t be. I’d rather my enjoyment not be ruined by inconvenience.”

Because it would be inconvenient to have to slaughter anyone who’d hurt his boy and then he presses his open palm to his hunter’s open skin and heals it with magic.

“Alec.” Is the name gasped against him when Alec, his Alec, leans into the sudden and harsh healing.

Magnus is merciful, but he’s not going to just heal his boy nicely when Alec is the one who got himself into this mess.

Magnus resolutely ignores the little voice that reminds him he owns the place and it’s his rules that allowed Alexander in and oh —

He likes the flavor of that on his tongue.

“Alexander.” He rolls about his tongue and the taste of what must be Alec’s full name delights him just as much as the little shudder Alexander makes against him. “Come along, lovely. I’ll have your company beside me, you’ve played with others long enough.”

And Magnus is pleased when Alexander doesn’t even consider protesting.

Few people have so little self-preservation to argue, but Magnus can’t be sure.

Alexander did sign up for a cage fight.

Magnus finds his lack of self-care a bit concerning.

But it also means Magnus now gets to place his palms on Alexander’s naked skin and guide him over and down, so he’s sitting next to Magnus.

He’s polite and pretty and still bound by magic and Magnus is tempted to leave the magic on him, but they have only just met and Magnus doesn’t mind the long game.

So he calls the magic back to himself with a sigh and reminds himself to go slow.

“Can I grab my shirt?” Alexander asks, a grimace on his face as his runes appear. He has a small ring with a glamour tied to it in his hand that he’s just taken off and he’s rubbing at where a deflect rune is fetchingly placed on his neck.

Magnus wants to bite it.

And destroy the ring that tried to hide it.

“No need.” Magnus says because he has magic and Alexander is correct, he should not be so fetchingly handsome, beat up and half-naked for all of the spectators to see.

They should be focusing on the next match, but Magnus doubts all of the crowd has the self-control to not be too nosey.

Magnus already regrets having to share the view as much as he has and he summons one of his own workout vests. It settles nicely on Alexander and he inhales, pupils dilating like he realizes and likes the idea of wearing something of Magnus’.

He definitely has the potential to be Magnus then.

And then Alexander lets Magnus slide closer, lets Magnus press his own glass to his lips and drinks when coaxed to.

And Magnus is thrilled.

Thrilled and delighted and quite pleased with how his evening is turning out.

“Let me take you home.” Magnus says, but it’s not really a question and patience has never been his strong suit when it comes to what he wants.

And he finds he desperately wants Alexander.

The avarice he feels for his boy is the kind that would make his father proud.

A bone-deep lust for every single moment of Alexander’s life to be Magnus’.

It’s thrilling by how much of a thrall he is in and while Magnus knows he’s not been enchanted or bewitched, he still feels like it.

So when Alexander agrees, curious about Magnus and uncomfortable with the looks they are getting, Magnus summons a portal.

He makes no explanation or goodbyes, just pulls Alexander through the portal and steps out, his hand on the small of Alexander’s well muscled back.

His fingers clench covetously as he remembers others got to touch Alexander, even if it was in violence.

“Now—“Magnus says as soon as they are in his lair and Alexander’s attention is focused only on him. “How about a drink?”

—

“What to do with you darling.” Magnus murmurs as he watches his unconscious guest with a surprising depth of fondness.

Alexander managed two drinks and then his pretty eyes had fluttered and his head had lolled and now Magnus had a lapful of dozing shadowhunter.

Nineteen, he’d told Magnus, but Magnus traces faint lines and scars and marvels at the fact that Alexander's life speaks to a very different age.

There’s no softness to be found on him.

He’s pure muscle and lean lines and he’s solid. In the strange weightless yet heavy way nephilim bodies share.

And Magnus pets over the bridge of his nose and the little cut over the corner of his eye and wonders.

Magnus has had his own fair share of interests.

However they’re passing and fleeting and while at times they can be fierce, Magnus knows they are mostly formed from whimsy.

Alexander is not whimsy.

He is the very soul of want.

A deep vein of mithril that Magnus is recklessly willing to mine for himself. A mountain of platinum that belongs only to him and the lust he feels for the being in his lap is that of a dragon ravenous for its hoard.

The tangle of feelings that Magnus already possesses for Alexander are growing in a dark tangle of thorns. If Alexander were only a little older and a little more jaded, Magnus wouldn’t be so gentle.

As it is, Alexander hasn’t been broken yet and Magnus will ensure he remains that way.

There’s a softness to him, a shy tenderness that bloomed when Magnus killed the seelie and healed him.

A naive trust that formed when Magnus clothed him in his own shirt and fed him from his own glass.

It’s fragile and tenuous and the most delicate thing Magnus has ever allowed himself to touch.

And Magnus prides himself that even with all the destruction he can bring, he also has an incredibly delicate touch when required.

He can lay mile wide arrays with spider-fine lines of magic and weave tapestries of time from the boundaries of existence.

Yet Alexander’s trust seems so much more fragile.

So Magnus will do what he hasn’t forced himself to do in centuries.

He’ll be patient.

And he’ll play the long game.

And so Magnus stays on the couch, even though he wants to take Alexander to Magnus’ bed and wrap around him.

Instead, Magnus keeps his touches soft and confined to Alexander’s hair and the planes of his sleep-soft face until he wakes.

“There you are, pretty boy.” Magnus murmurs when Alec’s lashes flutter and he can’t help the way his greedy fingers curl tighter into Alexander's hair.

He wants to take, so very badly and Magnus hasn’t been denied anything in a very long time and to deny himself is an even greater restraint.

But if he wants to ensure he won’t lose Alexander’s adoration and trust, then he needs to be patient.

Alexander looks stunned and lost in the soft light of morning. His face is exhausted, smudged with deep bruises under his eyes that Magnus aches to wipe away with his magic.

“It’s still downtime for the shadowworld.” Magnus assures him, “it’s only just past daybreak. You still have hours till dusk.”

And Alexander relaxes back into Magnus with a little relieved sigh before he realizes what he’s done and blushes.

Magnus wants to coo, but he savagely bites his own tongue and just hums as he runs his fingers through fluffy, dark locks.

Magnus hasn’t been gentle in a very long time.

He hasn’t wanted or needed to be.

So now, working on it, on being as soft as possible, is probably the worst self-inflicted trial he’s ever pushed himself to do.

Yet even now, it's worth the reward he’s gained.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #under my skin #shadowhunters #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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