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Eternity in an Hour

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“Magnus? What are you doing here?”

Magnus froze. He must have forgotten to cast a warning spell for anyone coming towards him, and he could curse himself for it now. Luckily, it seems like the person who caught him was his own darling Alexander. He quickly pulled his hand back from the vertical row of stacked plates resting on the counter in the Institute kitchen.

“Oh! I was just looking for a glass of water, you know how thirsty enforcing the wards can make me,” Magnus said in a breezy tone.

“Couldn’t you just summon a glass of water…?” Alec asked, confusion written all over his face. “And you were just… stroking the edges of the plates.”

Magnus laughed, “stroking the plates? Oh, you young people- is that slang for something?”

Alec raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Fine,” Magnus said resignedly, “a long time ago, when The Accords were still being written I was invited to an Institute to help. They served us food, and drink- but after it was over they threw out every single item that had been touched by “dirty Downworlder” flesh… So now, when I find myself unaccompanied in an Institute, a rarity I assure you… I…”

“You touch the plates,” Alec said with understanding in his voice.  

Magnus nodded, “it’s a little bit silly, but it makes me feel better.”

Alec nodded, “okay. Anyway, I made some pecan pie the other day, would you like some?”

“You bake?” Magnus asked thrown by the sudden change in topics.

“Yeah, I can’t really cook, but I like baking. All you have to do is follow instructions,” Alec said. He was already walking to the fridge and pulling out a pie pan.

“I would love some of your pie,” Magnus said warmly. “I do hope you’re telling the truth unlike your charming sister. She convinced me to try her cooking a fortnight ago, and its taste still lingers on my tongue.”

Alec laughed and cut a piece of the pie, and then put it in a toaster oven to warm it up. He moved seamlessly around the kitchen to grab a spoon and a box of ice cream.

“Yeah… Izzy is, well… She’s passionate.”

The toaster oven went off, and Alec pulled out the piece of pie and, with another hand, grabbed a plate and put the slice on it before topping it with vanilla ice cream.

Magnus couldn’t help but feel a little stupid when he noticed what was happening. Alec was serving Magnus on Institute utensils. This was even more of a fuck you than his own harmless rebellion.

Alec smiled at him, and Magnus beamed back, before grabbing a fork and putting a piece in his mouth. It was amazing, sweet and warm with the perfect blend of vanilla ice cream. He couldn’t hold back a loud moan as he took a bite.

“Goodness, Alexander,” Magnus said when he finally opened his eyes, his voice breathy, “you are amazing.”

Alec choked and turned red, “I… I’m glad you like it.”

Magnus finished the dessert rather swiftly, and under Alec’s gentle and watchful eyes. The Shadowhunter seemed delighted by the way Magnus couldn’t seem to get enough of the baked treat.

“What do I have to do to get you to bake this for me again?”

“Ask nicely?” Alec responded, reaching for the now empty plate.

Magnus was about to ask what he was doing, but Alec turned towards the sink and swiftly washed the plate with a sponge.

“Do you mind drying it?” Alec asked.

Magnus raised his eyebrow at the odd behavior, but he reached for the towel by the sink and dried the dish, and fork that Alec just cleaned. Once they were dry, Alec took the items back and without another word went back to the tall stack of plates.

He took five clean plates off the top, placed the newly washed plate on the stack, and then added back the previously removed plates. The plate Magnus had used blended back into its identical brothers, ready to be utilized in the rotation again.

And Magnus, for his part, knew that he shouldn’t be so touched by this. This simple, tiny gesture. But he was, he was moved because Alec had listened to his story, and had paid attention.

“Thank you,” Magnus said unsteadily.

“Magnus,” Alec said standing in front of Magnus, his hand cupping the Warlock’s jaw, “what are you thanking me for? I just wanted you to start off with a clean plate at this institute.”

Magnus raised his eyebrow, and Alec blushed.

“Ya know?” Alec said, “like… clean slate but instead I said plate.”

Magnus chose not to dignify the pun with a response and instead leaned in, allowing their lips to meet gently.

“I love you, Alexander.”

Alec smiled like it was the first time he heard it every single time Magnus said it, “I love you too.”

And hey, maybe Magnus beamed back too.

Chapter Text

It was raining that fateful Thursday evening in New York. It was a sluggish rain, an oozing rain. The type of thing that reminds you of what New York is really like, under the glitz and glamor. It’s a leaking city. Leaking sin and vice.

The tall gray building on the side of the road has broken glass in front of it has broken glass to match the broken hearts that walk those streets. Inside, there is an office on the fifth floor of a mostly empty building, with lights flickering in the hallway. There is only one light still on this late in the evening, everyone else has run off to families and homes.

His door, which was bright purple had read, “Magnus Bane Private Investigator” was the only color in the beige hallway.

The proprietor is sitting at his desk drinking two fingers of the whiskey he keeps in his desk drawer.

There comes a time he thought when every man realizes the natural edges of the world he’s created for himself. And my edges look a hell’uv’a’lot like the edge of my whiskey glass.

He’s still chuckling to himself when he hears a knock at the door.

Magnus glances up and sees the shadow of a tall figure, so he reaches for his revolver after downing his whiskey in one burning sip. “Come in,” he said cautiously.

In walks a tall man, wearing a suit and a dark bowler hat. As he looked up from the ground, Magnus was hit full force with wide hazel eyes and pink lovely lips.

Magnus licked his lips and smirked in spite of himself.

“Can I help you, pretty boy?”

The man flushed but walked to the desk and sat at the corner. He blinked coquettishly at Magnus while he pulled out a cigarette, “can I have a light?”

“Of course,” Magnus said standing up. He leaned over the desk to light the other man’s cigarette and perhaps leaned a bit closer than necessary. “So what’s a dashing little thing like you doing on the wrong side of the tracks this late at night?”

“Someone’s trying to kill me,” he says, “You gotta help me.”

“Oh?” Magnus responds, amused, “and why should I?”

“They say you’re the best Mr. Bane. Were they lying?“

“And what is your name, darling?”

“Alec Lightwood.”

Magnus froze. He knew this case was bound to be no good. The Lightwoods had their fingers in so many pies, and were involved with so much scum in the city, he was surprised they didn’t bleed black. He’s been around that block before, he’s paid that price. Magnus reaches back for the whiskey bottle and pours himself another drink.

“I don’t think so, doll, get yourself another chump.”

“You don’t understand, Mr. Bane- they got someone after me. They say you even might know her. Camille Belcourt.”

Magnus’s insides went cold. It had been an age since he heard that name. The last time he saw her was in Prague under the hail of gunfire. Her betrayal still tasted like cheap whiskey and even cheaper lies.

“That was a bad business what happened between she and I. If you did your homework, you’d know that, wouldn’t you angel?”

“I’ll pay you anything you ask,” Alec continued, “not like I don’t got the money.”

“Interesting,” Magnus said walking around his desk and placing one hand next to Alec’s thigh which was resting on the corner. “You think you can pay my fee?”

“Yes,” Alec said meeting his eyes and leaning in dangerously. The hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette was now resting on Magnus’s lapels. “Every man’s got a price, just got to find yours.”

“Maybe I’m a man with integrity.”

Alec snorted and took a puff of his cigarette, “there ain’t no such thing in this day and age.”

“Such cynical thoughts from such a pretty little mouth. Though that is no reason to doubt the metal of a man.”

Alec’s eyes flashed dangerously as his lips edged into a smirk. The hand that is resting on Magnus’s lapel curled into it in a soft grip, “man you may be, Mr. Bane, but I don’t see a shred of armor on you.”

“Maybe you’re not looking close enough, angel.”

He pushed Magnus back slightly, “will you take the case or not?”

Magnus considered Alec, sitting casually on the corner of Magnus’ desk as if he owned it. He was definitely trouble, he could see that in his dark hazel eyes. Still- something was tempting Magnus to say yes. Maybe it was the money, maybe it was those lips, hell maybe it was even the long legs, but Magnus knew there was no way he was going to refuse.

“Come back tomorrow with some information and payment. I take forty dollars a day, plus expenses.”

“Looking forward to it, Mr. Bane.”

“Please, call me Magnus.”

“In that case, Magnus,” Alec said getting up and shifting to crowd Magnus against the desk. He could feel Alec’s hot breath on his skin, and their thighs were so close they were almost touching. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a ten dollar bill, and slowly slid his hand up Magnus’s sport coat until they reached his jacket pocket. He tucked the bill in and patted the detective’s chest softly, “consider it a retainer.”

Magnus stared at him, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Lightwood.”

Alec walked towards the door, hips swaying slightly, and pressed his hat back on his head. He paused at the door, turned around and said, “thanks for the light.”

With that, he closed the door leaving Magnus with the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and the taste of danger on his tongue.

Chapter Text

Alec and Izzy are wandering around the library in the Institute, trying to find a really obscure book that could help them with a particular demon. All the books are coated in a thick layer of dust because hardly anyone goes back there. And aside from that, the Clave has digitized most relevant information for the institutes around the world. So, by and large, there isn’t a real necessity to go back there.

But they do- because this book is old. So they’re just walking around when Izzy suddenly calls Alec over.

He comes, but he’s grumpy because he would much rather be watching the Great British Bake Off with Magnus. Instead he’s on (what he suspects) is a wild goose chase.

Izzy points wordlessly at a book and Alec looks at it. In The Defense of the Downworld: A Treatise on Human Nature Vol I. The book sounded interesting enough but what really caught his attention was the author. By: Magnus Bane. Then the book right next to it, equally thick, is the second volume. Next to both of those books are a three part series entitled The Accords: The Morality of Compromise.

Alec’s hands shake as he grabs the first volume of his treatise on Downworlders and flips it open. He goes to the table of contents and runs his hand gently down the different parts and sections. The argument was broken down very logically, and (through a quick skim) is highly compelling. Not that Alec needed to be convinced that Downworlders were human, but he could imagine this book changing a lot of minds.

“Damn,” Izzy said, she was holding his defense of The Accords, “damn. I think I’m going to borrow these, this sounds fascinating.”

Alec rolled his eyes because Izzy has always been the smart one. She’ll probably finish all three books on the Accords in a week and then have an impassioned argument with Magnus about it. He loved listening to them talk to each other because Magnus’s laid back, logical, utilitarian perspective offered an interesting counter to Izzy’s more passionate, principle based thinking.

Alec imagined Magnus sitting down and writing this, carefully and thoughtfully laying out his argument that would have seemed revolutionary at the time. As he looks at the inscription he notices that the book was published five years before The Accords were ratified. He wondered how much this book contributed to it. He likes thinking of Magnus like this because it is hard to remember sometimes. He’s flashy, and dramatic, bitingly funny and generous and obviously intelligent.

But, for some reason, he never really flaunts his intelligence the same way. He never hides it, but he also goes out of his way not to be a dick about it. Magnus values intelligence, but not over other qualities like generosity, bravery, and kindness. He’s really wise that way because Magnus knows being intelligent doesn’t make you a good person and there are a lot of ways of being intelligent. As a result, he never makes anyone he cares about feel stupid for not knowing what he knows or not being able to think in the same way as him.

Sometimes Alec is struck by how brilliant his boyfriend actually is, and it is a little intimidating. Mostly it is incredibly endearing and (fine) a little sexy. What he really wants right now is to sit down and talk to him about his ideas and thoughts, to debate him. Their nightly conversations ranging from the inane, “if you had to shower in one non-water substance for the rest of your life what would it be?” to the deeply thought provoking, “Does moral relativism reduce an individual's responsibility to their society?” were quickly becoming the highlight of his days.

“I’m going to Magnus, Izzy,” Alec said gently taking the book with him. Holding it like it is something rare and precious.

She nods, already reading her book and not paying attention to him.

So he starts back to the loft in Brooklyn, smiling softly to himself as he caresses the leather bound cover.

Chapter Text

When Luke was eleven, he had a terrible stutter.

His grandfather, a shockingly soft man with dark skin and gray hair, gave him a book of poetry, and said, “talking is one thing. Speech is another.” And he patted his back with a wink and a nod. When he opened the book for the first time he felt like he changed, the world out there of beauty and love, resistance and compassion appeared before his very eyes. Audrey Lorde, Maia Angelou, Langston Hughes… His mind was lost in verses.  

So, Luke devoured that book and then another and another. The bookshelves in his room in Idris were overflowing. Sometimes, Idris got lonely. He had a stutter and dark skin… And well, there weren’t many Shadowhunters with dark skin.

He once asked his father about it, with confused eyes and his father sighed heavily and placed a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder, “sometimes, some fools think purity of blood is something external. You just gotta remind them, Lukie boy, that a shadowhunter is more than a Savior. A Shadowhunter is a hero.”

Luke never forgot that. And when his father died, two weeks later because saved his friend on the battlefield at the expense of his own life, Luke vowed to live by it.

His father had actually been the one to first call him Luke, whispered to him once so his momma couldn’t hear, “Lucien is too damn long.”

“Ahh, look, little baby Lucien,” Jack Cavernrod said mockingly, dragging Luke out of his fifth reading of Letters from a Birmingham Jail.

“St-st-st-stop it,” Luke said. His voice may have stuttered, but his fists didn’t, and he knew for a fact that he could if he chose, teach his classmates a lesson.

“Aw, did you see that? What was he trying to speak? Stupid?”

It was times like these that Luke felt inadequate. He remembers Sojourner Truth, raised a slave and still gave one of the most remarkable speeches of all time. And he, raised in Idris, could barely say his own name.

Still, when he placed himself in battle stance (taking several particular moments to mark his spot in reading and making sure it was far away from destructive hands), they fled.

“They’re just jealous, ya know,” a voice called. There was a girl around his age with wild red hair sitting in the tree cleaning the spaces between her teeth with a dagger. Luke felt uncouth just looking at her.

“Excuse me?”

She does a flip out of the tree, and in his head, Luke scoffs (while noticing she was very pretty) and thinks she’s a show-off.

“They’re jealous.”

“Of what?” Luke asks bitterly, barely noticing that he isn’t stuttering around her.

“Hey, I’ve seen you in class Lucien. You’re top of our year, not just in combat but also in written tests. They’re jealous- most people only get one. Looks like you’re brain and brawn.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, and this time the girl blushed, which seemed jarring on her pale skin but also surprising. He knew her too, Jocelyn Fairchild- known for her spitfire mouth, excellent throwing arm and her lack of shame.

“I just… Well, hey, Shadowhunters are supposed to be observant,” she says defensively.

Luke chuckled and picked up his reading again, “it was fun to speak to you, Jocelyn.”

“You too, Lucien.”

“Hey,” Luke said before he could stop himself, “call me Luke.”

Chapter Text

Alec wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked into Magnus’s apartment later that day. His boyfriend seemed unusually distracted and uncharacteristically stressed when he left that morning, but he was running late for a patrol and didn’t have time to ask him. While he knew that Magnus didn’t hold that against him, he still couldn’t help but feel like a bad boyfriend when he walked in to see Magnus sitting across the table from a man holding a clipboard. 

“Alexander,” Magnus said surprised, “what are you doing here?”

“Um… I finished my patrol and thought I would come by. Is this a bad time?”

The man across from Magnus gave him a pointed look which Magnus ignored. 

“Of course not. I have to finish up some business right now, why don’t you take a shower and relax in my bedroom until I’m done.” 

Alec raised his eyebrows but nodded, the implication was fairly clear. Magnus didn’t want him in the same room as him for the moment, but Alec knew better than to judge. He was just curious.  

By the time he finished his shower the curiosity almost overwhelmed him. He decided to activate his hearing rune if it turned out to be very personal he would deactivate it. No harm, no foul. 

“As we see here, the results of your last review are quite promising,” the strange man began.  

“Yes, a lot of the problems that I was dealing with then have been addressed. Especially with issues of intense competition. But by changing the standards for being considered an active Warlock in Brooklyn I was able to significantly add to my compositional diversity as well as create a greater variety of research opportunities for younger warlocks,” Magnus responded. 

“Yes, very impressive. Still- you do have a problem. Your region has become intensely popular and having too many warlocks in one area can cause issues. How have you been dealing with it?” 

“A great deal of my popularity has come from the social programs I’ve enacted for younger, untrained warlocks as well as more advanced researchers and academics. So I’ve been training a few other High Warlocks in my pedagogical approach so that should help shift the burden.” 

“Alright, I think that is enough for today,” the other man said, “we should have the external consultants report and the internal consultant’s report soon. Have a nice day Warlock Bane.” 

Alec quickly deactivated his hearing rune and attempted to seem nonchalant as Magnus reentered the bedroom. 

“So,” Alec began in what he hoped was a casual voice, “what was that about?” 

Magnus flung himself onto the bed, face first and mumbled into the mattress. 

Alec chuckled, “I can’t hear you, Magnus.” 

“A review, trying to determine my effectiveness at my job. The external consultants are the worst, they come with no context about this area and then try to purpose solutions…”

“What?”

“I know that for you people,” Magnus said gesturing to his runes, “leadership is very top down… But for Warlocks it’s more like, we’re more… Academically inclined. Not really soldiers, the way you are. So I am not like you or your mother, I’m more like… I’m like the President of a college.”

“What?” Alec said blankly. 

“Right, of course,” Magnus sighed and sat up, “you’ve never attended college. Okay, think of it like this. I do the paperwork, I set the agenda for meetings, I make sure minutes are taken and approved… But people can disagree with me, and other warlocks are prone to spirited debate. So the extent to which I can regulate them, commercially, intellectually or otherwise is somewhat limited. So my “power” so to speak as High Warlock is complicated.” 

“Interesting,” Alec said moving so that he was curling around Magnus. He felt the older man relax into his arms, “so it isn’t based on magical power?” 

Magnus laughs hard, “magical power? Why on earth would power be the best way to pick a leader?” 

Alec flushed, “hey! I mean you’re really strong, so I just assumed that…” 

“All High Warlocks are?” Magnus asked sympathetically. 

“Yeah,” Alec said, “I’m sorry.” 

“It isn’t your fault that you don’t know,” Magnus said kindly. 

“I guess… Anyway this isn’t about me,” Alec said pressing Magnus’s tense back, “is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?” 

Magnus looked at him like he had suddenly transformed into a multi-winged beast, but then his face softened. His eyes looked warm and tender, while he stroked Alec’s face. 

“Thank you, my love,” Magnus said pressing a soft kiss to Alec’s jaw, “you know what I would like?” 

“Anything for you,” Alec said seriously. Magnus always said the same thing when Alec came home, stressed and overworked. It was only fair that he return the favor. 

“I want a hot shower, delicious food, and cuddling to a cheesy movie. What do you say, Shadowhunter?” 

“Well, Warlock Bane,” Alec said with a soft smile, “I think we can make that work.” 

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Magnus would disappear. Not physically, but it was actually his greatest feat of transportation. He could stand right next to Jace, speak to him, have an entire conversation, and not really be there. He could see it in his dark eyes, lost somewhere between now, then and tomorrow. His gaze a complex mix of always and never.

He knew there was really only one way to drag Magnus out of a funk like this. The reason they were such a shockingly good couple, despite many people’s constant confusion. Jace could make him mad, could irritate him and poke and prod. Jace was able to get under Magnus’s elegant, sophisticated skin and dig around a little.

And he delighted in it.

It’s funny because they’re tender. Normally, they’re tender. Jace knows too much, identifies too much, with Magnus’s (in his words) “daddy issues.” They smirk and snark, but at the end of the day when it was just them, they turn so soft Jace sometimes wonders if anyone would ever believe him.

But sometimes, they’re exactly as you expect. Sometimes. Jace gets lost in the memories, or Magnus gets lost in himself, and then it becomes a game. See how much they can vex each other, challenge each other, push each other- one of the most powerful warlocks in the world and the most talented Shadowhunter in the world. It’s the fire in their kiss when usually it is just a dull roar.

Like today for example.

Jace raised his eyebrows, challenging as always. His smirk enraging Magnus’s insides. He looked too god damn much like and Angel and sometimes Magnus just wanted to wreck him. Now isn’t the time for that, though.

“Scared, old man?”

“Oh please,” Magnus said rolling his eyes and rolling up his sleeves. He sits at his piano, gently stroking the keys.

“I don’t know… Someone as old as you might get set in their ways,” Jace said with a smirk.

This was a game they play. They both improvise one minute of music, and the winner creates the more complicated and beautiful song. Usually, it is evident. They may love to compete, but what they adore even more is their partner’s excellence. Often, despite how blood spit tingly competitive they are, they often insist that the other won.

Today, Magnus looked haunted. He did his work, made his drink, cooked dinner like he was a robot trapped in a body. Another monotonous day, of another monotonous year of another monotonous century.

So, it’s Jace’s job to remind him of who Magnus really is. A competitive, stubborn, creative little shit.

He places his hands on the keys and decides to go first. The song is energetic, bombastic, but it takes its slow turns- gentle in ways a listener might not expect. Suddenly jazzy, where someone might think pizzazz is overrated.

Jace thinks it reminds him of Magnus. Jace hopes Magnus notices that. 

And when Magnus plays, an elegant tune with some surprising sharp dissonant notes, deceptively beautiful- hiding a dangerous edge- Jace knows he did.

Chapter Text

This time, Alec thought, this time the date will go perfectly. Not that the last date had gone poorly, aside from the immediate shock factor of 17,000 and the unexpected arrival of Jace. Actually, if Alec really thought about it, their first date had actually gone pretty well. The game of pool they played ended up being a perfect ice breaker, and Magnus is exactly as charming and funny as advertised.

Heck, all things considered, Alec did actually get a second kiss. And a second date. So- it could be worse.

Still, Alec doubts if he’ll ever come to appreciate the alcohol that Magnus so carefully orders for him. The beer had been… Unpleasant. The martini, so intense he immediately felt like he was drinking someone’s Lysol can.

“You know what,” Magnus said suddenly after studying the menu for a moment, “I know exactly what you’d like.”

Alec raised an eyebrow challengingly. He likes that Magnus seems to appreciate (really appreciate if that dark look means anything) the parts of him that are smarmy and taciturn.

Magnus looked him dead in the eye, “Sex On The Beach.”

Alec choked on his own tongue. His brain jumped immediately to Magnus in a swimsuit on the beach and screamed hell yes, I would like that. That sounds like the best date idea you’ve had so far.

When he finally got the wherewithal to respond, it was mostly in useless stutters. “Wh- what- I mean- um- well… I- I, um…. Yes. I mean, um, yes. I uh- guess- I might…”

Alec watched Magnus’s face change from enthusiasm to confusion, before landing on amusement.

Then he just started laughing, “no! Alec, no. I meant the drink. A “Sex On The Beach,” it’s a really sweet vodka cocktail.”

Then, slowly, Alec’s words seem to have actually hit Magnus. And Alec watched smugly (even if his cheeks and neck were bright red) as Magnus’s face changed again. This time from amusement to dark lust.

“Wait… Did you say yes? Before you knew it was a cocktail?”

Alec smiled innocently before glancing at the menu and mustering up a bit of that so-called Lightwood bravery, “actually, Magnus. I think I’d prefer a Screw Against The Wall.”

Magnus didn’t choke on his tongue, but the surprised flash of cat eyes before the glamor reset was just as satisfying.

Chapter Text

Luke was reminded of the fact that Jocelyn (like himself) was born and raised a Shadowhunter when she raises a single skeptical eyebrow at him. He knows that a lot of this goes against everything they were raised to believe, and raised to think. But Luke has had about enough of that type of rhetoric.

“What?”

“You’re… going to be a police officer?”

“Yes,” Luke said. He ignored the look on her face, which plainly said that she did not understand. He raised his eyebrows challengingly and continued to eat from his Chinese takeaway container.

“But… You’re a werewolf.”

“Really?” Luke asked sarcastically.

“No, I mean… You want to work in the Mundane world?”

“We both agreed, Jocelyn. We both agreed we need to fit in and that means getting a job. It means moving out of this shitty, studio apartment, it means we have to at least pretend we want to get our lives together. Especially if you are going to keep hiding from the Clave.”

“I know, I know, you’re right… I guess it’ll be a good thing.”

“Why?”

She smirks at him playfully, and her lips quirk with mischief, “I’ve always found men in uniform very attractive.”

“Oh yeah?” Luke said, smiling at her.

“You bet your ass, Garroway.”

“Garroway….” Luke murmured to himself. No longer was he Lucien Graymark. That person was dead, and he couldn’t keep wishing for his old life back.

When they first ran from the Shadow world, screaming baby in tow, he had spiraled into a depression. Everything he had ever known was destroyed, his Parabatai- his brother- had tried to kill him, and he was a werewolf. A werewolf, a Downworlder, a slave to his impulses.

He didn’t say it out loud but the biggest loss was fundamental to his personality. Luke was a protector, he loved keeping the world safe- it was what he wanted out of life.

“I want to do this,” he said softly and with more feeling, “I just… I want to feel like I can take care of people again. And yes, maybe it isn’t saving the world- but bad things can happen that aren’t supernatural and maybe I can help with those.”

She smiled at him softly, “does it ever annoy you? Being this good of a person?”

He rolled his eyes and just then Clary started to cry. He put his box down and went to go calm her before Jocelyn had a chance. She also put her box down to come help but he gently pushed her back down.

“Hey, I got this,” Luke said with a gentle smile.


It’s only six months later that he manages to graduate from his police academy with flying colors. He had been the top of his class, of course, because some things never change. Apparently, if he played his cards right he could take the detective’s exam within a year.

“Wow, wow, wow, look at you,” Jocelyn said. She had worn a beautiful blue dress that she had scrimped and saved for, just to look nice at his graduation ceremony. Luke felt his heart grow three sizes as he looked at her, and little baby Clary in his arms- his girls.

Luke smiled shyly, “what do you think? Still, like a man in uniform?”

“Yeah,” Jocelyn said, brushing her hand down the lapel of his formal jacket, “it suits you. You’re going to be great at this.”

Luke looked down and grinned. His hand reflexively went to smooth down his dress uniform- pleased with himself, “ya think?”

“Luke, in all the time that I’ve known you, you’ve always done well. I’m so proud of you and we’re going to celebrate tonight.”

“We are?”

“Yes sir, we are,” Jocelyn said. “We are going to have Chicken Cacciatore. I just learned how to make it and I’ve been practicing the recipe all week. Just for you.”

“You learned to cook? For me?”

“Luke… You are really stupid,” she said with a soft smile and a kiss on his cheek. “Now let’s go, Officer. We’ve got dinner to eat and wine to drink.”

Chapter Text

Simon will never know what he did to deserve this. 

This, being Magnus Bane writhing and whimpering against him, rutting helplessly. He has the Warlock pushed against the wall, trapped between the fixed infrastructure of the apartment and Simon’s cold, hard body.

“Si-Si,” Magnus tried to speak, he was jerking in Simon’s hands before Simon bit into his neck. As soon as his fangs dug deep into Magnus’s neck, he quietened into soft pleas.

Simon lapped at the blood, sweeter and somehow almost carbonated. Magnus felt like the equivalent of drinking soda, the rush, the power, the incredible high in his veins, unlike a mortal. Hell, even unlike a Shadowhunter.

“I got you,” Simon said. His mouth still wrapped around Magnus’s neck, his lips dangerously close to that god forsaken Adam’s apple. Sometimes, he felt like Magnus existed just to tempt him.

He moved his right hand, his left one was still occupied by pulling Magnus’s hair to the left, to the considerable tent in front of Magnus’s pants. He was so fucking hard, and Simon could taste it. The exceptional taste of arousal mixed in with Magnus’s already heady blood scent.

“Simon,” Magnus whispered. His hand was coiled loosely in Simon’s black strands. Simon could barely stand it, he had done that. He turned Magnus Bane, filled with commanding tones, and impressive rhetoric, into a pleading mess.

He felt Magnus’s hips jump uselessly against Simon’s vampire strength. Simon knew from experience that Magnus’s tender skin would bear the dark marks of bruises tomorrow. The kind, gentle part of Simon recoiled at the thought. But the dark, primitive side roared with glee, this man- irrepressible, untamable- would bear his marks.

He could still taste Magnus’s blood on his tongue as he lapped up the open wound on Magnus’s neck.

Simon’s right hand was locked in a secure, tight grip around Magnus’s cock. Moving faster than a human could even dream, he slid his hand up and down to the rhythm of Magnus’s irregular breathing. If Magnus noticed the ironic pacing he didn’t say anything, just curled deeper into Simon’s arms and moaned.

“Can you take any more?”

Magnus nodded yes against his neck, and Simon took another small sip. Not too much, not to hurt him- but just to make him feel this. Lightheaded, controlled, protected- even though they both knew that of the two of them Magnus certainly was the protector.

The blood felt like electricity on his tongue, it woke him up and tasted like the most delicious drink. No sourness that he associated with animal blood, no sharpness that Simon associated with human blood. A taste entirely of his own.

Simon’s hand was moving at a relentless pace, jerking him while he held a majority of Magnus’s weight. He barely noticed, even hundreds of pounds would feel like pocket change. Vampirism had its benefits.

“I’m— I’m—“ Magnus stuttered again, clutching uselessly at Simon’s arm.

Simon smiled into Magnus’s hair, and somehow fount it in him to go even faster. His hand was a highly lubricated blur against the surroundings of the loft wall that Simon pushed him against.

The hand clutching Simon’s hair tightened, and Magnus clenched, “I’m so close.”

Simon smiled against Magnus’s neck again, obviously not out of breath. Another perk of being undead.

“You look beautiful,” Simon finds it in himself to whisper.

And just like that, Magnus’s body locked up. His head tilted back, mouth opened wide in rapture. His eyes, stubbornly brown, changed suddenly to gleaming gold cat eyes. Magnus’s dick coated Simon’s hand and his stomach with a white cum. Before Simon could even think about it, he lifted a hand to his lips to taste.

It smelled like Magnus, and on his tongue, it felt like him too. A sweet, smokey flavor that Magnus somehow always seemed to smell and taste like.

Speaking of Magnus, he was currently shivering against Simon’s still mostly clothed frame.

“Well,” Magnus said his voice rough, “I suppose that is the last time I wear this choker.”

Simon snickered to himself, “Oh please. You’ll just wear it every time you want something. But, just so you know- I still think you’re wrong. Star Wars is way better than Star Trek.

Magnus huffed a tired laugh and rolled his eyes, “why don’t we re-watch Wrath of Khan to settle this debate.” 

Simon smiled fondly, “fine. But after that, we’re watching A New Hope.” 

Magnus smiled, “fair enough.” 

 

Chapter Text

The turning point, for Jace, came suddenly.

When he walked through the door of the penthouse his hips were aching. The fae he had been with the night before had been voracious, requiring at least three rounds before she was satisfied.

He had expected the penthouse to be empty. The Warlock, Magnus Bane, was almost never in town. He became used to the notes on the door, out to Paris. Won’t be back for a week. Unless of course, Alec came by. Then a week was almost inevitably cut short.

So he was unprepared for Magnus to be standing, shirtless, in the kitchen dicing tomatoes at a frightening speed. Jace couldn’t help but make a small noise of alarm when the knife looked like it was a bit too close to Magnus’s fingers, which alerted the man to his presence.

“Wayland,” Magnus said, “I’m cooking dinner. Are you interested in joining me?”

“You cook?”

Magnus raised an insulted eyebrow, “I was trained by Alain Passard. Of course, I can cook.”

“Who?”

“A famous French chef… Silly me, I shouldn’t have presumed that a Shadowhunter would have any idea about gastronomy. Now, are you interested in joining me?”

“Uh- yeah,” Jace said.

Magnus sighed and turned away from Jace to resume dicing tomatoes. It gave him a chance to observe the older man’s firm back. The sharp line of his spine that curved at the base, where it was bracketed by two dimples in the musculature.

Jace had only ever been attracted to women, but watching Magnus he had a sudden appreciation for Alec. No wonder he had come out, so spectacularly, so intensely, for this man.

Dinner was… Jace wishes dinner had been awkward. In reality, Magnus was as gracious as he was funny. Perfectly capable of telling stories and listening quietly in equal measure, the Warlock was preternaturally charming. Jace wondered if it was a Warlock thing or a Magnus thing.

Another thing he liked about Magnus was his razor sharp tongue. He was entirely unafraid to call Jace out when he felt he was being disrespected and Jace liked that. Magnus may be charming, but he also had an iron backbone.

And an iron backside.

The thought made Jace drop his knife.

“Jace?”

“It’s fine… It’s nothing,” Jace said. A new knife appeared magically on his plate. “Thank you.”

Magnus inclined his head, and Jace clenched his jaw trying to force his eyes not to follow the smooth curve of his neck.

“It’s quite simple once you get a hang of it,” Magnus commented casually.

Jace was clutching his surfboard. Earlier that day, Magnus had gotten bored and restless and decided to portal to a beach to surf. Jace just happened to be there.

He’s self-aware enough to admit now, in the privacy of his own head, that he said yes for an excuse to see Magnus shirtless and in the sun.

He hadn’t accounted for huge waves.

“It’s all in the balance, darling,” Magnus said. Jace shivered, feeling Magnus’s breath on his face. “I’m sure a Shadowhunter can figure it out.”

Of course, Jace does figure it out. Though Magnus mocks him mercilessly for using a balance rune.

“Fine! Then I’ll just leave!”

Jace sighed from where he was holed up in his room. Magnus and Alec were fighting. He loves his parabatai, but sometimes he wonders if he knows what he’s doing.

“Alec…” Magnus replies, softer. “Don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion?”

Jace winces. That was the exact wrong thing to say to his parabatai at that moment.

“You know what, Magnus?” Alec replies, his voice loud and irritated, “I don’t think I am.”

If there is one thing Jace hates himself for, it’s the burning feeling of hope as Alec slams the door.

“Scared, old man?”

Jace was smirking, his hand wrapped casually around his bow staff. Magnus had walked in ten minutes ago with that look on his face, pinched and stressed- Jace had a feeling sparring might help him feel better.

“Wayland,” Magnus replies with a smirk, “it’s hardly fair to you.”

Jace laughs. He hasn’t had a sparring partner that can beat him in over fifteen years. “I’m starting to think you’re all bark, no bite.”

Magnus smirks, the tension in his shoulders draining, “you have no idea how hard my bite can be, Jace.”

Later, when Jace has been laid out on the mat four times in a row, he feels himself falling in love.

He promptly feels like shit.

Jace tells himself he’s not a bad person.

Magnus just… Sometimes needs some taking care of him, and Jace just so happens to live with him. Of course, he goes out of his way to make Magnus’s favorite tea after a bad day. Of course, he purposefully stays in on nights that he knows Magnus has a lot of clients. He’s just being a good friend. Magnus likes to decompress and watch movies on the couch. Really, Jace is just being a good guy.

He keeps telling himself that, over and over. It gets worse when Magnus does get comfortable with him, when Magnus obviously starts seeing him as a friend.

Because before, Magnus wasn’t tactile. He doesn’t touch people much unless he cares about them or he trusts them- and Jace has never been in either category.

Until recently. Sometimes, now, Magnus will throw his long legs over Jace’s while laying back on the couch and sighing dramatically as he weaves a tale about his day.

Jace chokes down the uncontrollable want. Not only for his body, though he wants that too. But for this. To hold him at the end of long days, and massage his legs when they are flung over his lap.

But he never does. He never touches.

Alec and Magnus make up.

Of course they do. They’re destined for each other. They are some written in the stars, new age Romeo and Juliet bullshit. Jace has read enough about true love to see it in others.

Jace makes himself scarce, leaves the loft more so he doesn’t have to see them tangled up together laughing softly.

One day, he enters the apartment and hears Magnus laughing from the kitchen saying, “of course I can cook, my love. I was trained by Alain Passard.”

No one, Jace thinks, can blame him for the single tear that slips down his face.

Chapter Text

NSFW: literally just 100% hardcore wlw Clizzy (Clary/Izzy) smut from a WLW writer. That is the whole thing. 

“What do you say, baby? Can you keep your hands to yourself?”

Isabelle nodded, her dark eyes blown black. Her hands, which were tied together in a soft scarf, rested casually behind her head. Clary took time to observe her, her perfect body and her even more perfect tits. Isabelle had put on Clary’s favorite bra that morning, made of a soft red lace that looked illegal on Isabelle’s creamy skin. Even better was the way the lace rubbed her sensitive nipples all day. She looked about ready to burst now, and Clary hasn’t even touched her.

“You’re always rushing me, Izzy. So focused on pleasure, and I understand,” Clary commented pressing a soft hand to Isabelle’s stomach. “You’re so… Sensitive. It must be torture for you.”

Isabelle made a soft keening noise, and Clary finally took pity on her. She straddled the other woman’s waist and pressed a kiss on her lips, purposefully keeping as much of their skin touching as possible.

“Finally, I get to take my time,” Clary said again. “You’re so god damn gorgeous, it’s a crime. Only fitting that you should get a punishment.”

She saw Isabelle’s cheeks flush and it sparked something fond in Clary. Isabelle’s body really is unreal, perfectly curved, and ruthlessly trained to perfection. Nothing about this woman is rough, except the way she talks and the way she fights. Clary loved how this was an Isabelle that only existed with her, trusting and pliant. And above all else, obedient.

Well, that last part wasn’t actually true. But Clary had ways of making her beautiful Shadowhunter girlfriend fall apart and listen.

Clary began trailing soft kisses down her neck, before landing a bite at the base. Isabelle arched her back and tilted her head to offer more and Clary gladly took it. She loved making dark bruises form, it sparked something possessive in her. It helped that Isabelle’s skin was so soft, and she smelled of her favorite perfume- sultry and mysterious.

She kept going, reaching those rock hard nipples and amazing breasts. Isabelle had been wet when they first got back to her room, the entire day of the soft scratch of lace had been a distraction. Poor dear, Clary thought to herself. She lowered her mouth to her right breast and rolled her tongue over it in a soft, wet circle.

Isabelle keened and arched her back to offer more, but Clary just chuckled and pushed her back down. Her left hand went to the other nipple, barely ghosting over it with her fingers. Isabelle had intensely sensitive tits, Clary was almost convinced she could make her come from this type of stimulation alone. But as it stood, it did serve to make her girlfriend ridiculously wet. She could feel her, leaking against her thigh where she was trying to get friction. Clary focused her attention there, sticking out her tongue to trace delicate wet circles around the tip relishing the feeling of puckered skin under her lips and tongue. The engorged flesh was a dark brown and looked so god damn delicious that Clary couldn’t blame herself for getting a bit distracted.

In all honestly, she barely noticed Isabelle’s loud, sultry moans, or the way her body was squirming as if she couldn’t contain her desire.

Then she felt it, the feeling of hands on her shoulders pushing her down to where Isabelle really wanted her. Though Isabelle’s hands were tied, they were not pinned to the headboard, so she was still able to use them.

Clary had plans, however, and they would not be deviated from. Plans she didn’t necessarily share with Isabelle, but she had a feeling her smart girlfriend would catch on eventually.

“Ah,” Clary said pushing herself back up to Isabelle’s lips, “you interrupted me. I guess I’ll have to start back from the top.”

“Wh-what?” Isabelle stuttered, raising herself up to look at Clary surprised.

“You forget, I’m an artist, Izzy. I can be patient, it’s all about the journey you know.”

She went back to her neck and kissed down it again, pressing a hard kiss on the already forming hickey. She couldn’t help but be possessive. Isabelle drew attention, with her perfect lips and hair and ass. Fuck, Clary didn’t know she was such an ass person before she met Isabelle, but perfection deserves to be appreciated.

She moved back down to her chest, which was heaving. Clary curiously slid a quick hand down her stomach to her vagina and felt her leaking and wet. So wet that Clary could feel her forming a wet puddle under her.

“Good.”

She trailed down to her breasts again as if she hadn’t spent the last seven minutes worshiping them. They were tender now, and very sensitive. A soft blow of air was enough to make Isabelle shudder.

Finally,  she moved down her stomach, pressing soft kisses as she went. Clary kept going, torturously slow trying to tempt her girlfriend to—

Ah, there it was. Breaking another rule.

“Oh, was I going too fast? I can start over.”

“Clary, please. Please, please, I need you. I, please,” Isabelle’s eyes were wide and pleading, so Clary took pity on her.

She went back to her breasts, but only for a moment, to press a swirling lick on both nipples before returning to her stomach. Isabelle raised her hips to encourage Clary to keep going, but Clary just raised her eyes playfully and forcefully pushed her hips back down.

“What was I saying?”

The journey!” Isabelle said, desperately thrashing in the bed. “The journey, the journey is important. Please, I promise. I was listening.”

“Shh,” Clary said running a soothing hand up and down her thigh, “I know you were. You’re my good girl.”

Isabelle nodded frantically as Clary finally lowered herself to Isabelle’s vagina. She was sopping wet now, glistening with every movement and leaking with desperation. Clary’s hand was still pressing her hips down, and she could feel the strain of the muscle. She pressed a long, lingering lick from bottom to top which made Isabelle shudder, before getting to business. Clary stuck her tongue out to taste her girlfriend, wet and waiting for her- and hell if it wasn’t hot. She pushed a hand down to her own sex and was unsurprised to notice how wet she was herself.

Eventually, she gave Isabelle what she asked for, pressing complicated swirling patterns around her clit and labia. She forced her jaw to relax as she made broad figure eights around her clit and vagina before switching patterns to something that resembled a “p” before switching again to a “q” shape.

Clary smirked to herself when she felt hands tangle in her hair pushing her harder into her sex so Isabelle could grind against her face. Smiling more when that tangle was coupled with an uncontrollable quiver in her thighs.

“Ah- Clary! Fuck, I’m—“

Clary kept going, even faster than before. She could feel her jaw getting tired, but she was focused now and was rewarded when her girlfriend literally screamed her release.

But Clary wasn’t quite done yet. Not giving Isabelle any time to recover she flipped the other woman, so she was laying on her stomach now and pulled her up by her hips slightly so she was resting on her knees with her head down. She leaned over her, so the front of her body was pressed against Isabelle’s back, and with one hand she pulled Isabelle’s face to the side to press a claiming kiss to her neck.

More?” Isabelle asked, out of breath and slightly alarmed. Clary smirked and nodded against her back so Isabelle could feel her- and let out an amused chuckle when Isabelle shuddered.

Isabelle let out a loud moan and squirmed back while Clary got a chance to worship her. She leaned back for a moment, cutting off contact, before swooping in suddenly to lick up her spine. She was rewarded when Isabelle arched her back even more dramatically and spread her knees even more as if subconsciously getting ready for what Clary had to give her. She went back to the top of her spine, laying soft, tingling kisses down her back, mixed with trailing her fingers along the other woman’s sides.

Clary imagined she was painting Isabelle with her tongue, taking time to explore sensitive areas she hadn’t had time to appreciate before.

Clary,” Isabelle cried, legs spreading even more. Isabelle’s thighs were coated and slick by now, much to Clary’s dark satisfaction. 

Clary shook her head, perhaps she got a bit distracted with exploration. She pulled back and reached for their favorite sex toy, a black vibrator which was large and curved enough to rest firmly on her clit and her entrance. Quickly she pulled a condom over the top of the toy, then reaching around, she pressed the toy firmly to Isabelle’s vagina.

“O-o-h by the Angel,” Isabelle stuttered.

Clary let herself enjoy the view of her girlfriend writhing on the vibrator. Her back was pulled into a perfect arch, showcasing her ass and her long, perfect black hair was scattered on the pillow to the side. Her face, which was pressed into the mattress without the benefit of hands to hold her up, was caught in rapture. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was wide open as she gyrated her hips to get more friction and more firm pressure.

And with that, Clary rubbed Isabelle’s ass twice before reaching back and slapping it.

Ah! Oh- oh- fuck, do that again.”

So Clary did, reaching back to send another firm stinging blow to her ass while she increased the setting on the vibrator.

“Can you count them for me, beautiful? Can you be a good girl?”

“Ah! I- I can, I can! By the Angel.”

Clary spanked her hard while keeping one hand on the vibrator.

“One.”

Isabelle’s ass had begun to take on a warm, pink color from the slaps and her cheeks matched. Her hands were twisted tightly in the scarf as if it would help her stop from falling apart, which seemed to be a lost mission at this point. Isabelle was entirely focused, her hips still pressing firmly into the vibrator while also keeping her ass high and presented for Clary’s stinging slaps.

This continued, until—

“Se-se-se-“ Isabelle tried, but her legs began quivering uncontrollably. “Yes, fuck, yes, yes, yes, Angel, yes.”

Clary kept the vibrator on, letting Isabelle ride out her orgasm until her intermittent shudders broke off and her moans turned slightly painful.

She left Isabelle there, and took off the condom from the toy and replaced it with a new one before pressing the vibrator to herself. She rested one hand on Isabelle’s ass and looked at her face, which was completely wrecked and flushed with tears leaking out from the side of her eyes.

Fuck,” Clary said, “you look so good, baby. So good, so wet and wrecked for me- you took it so well.”

She knew she was close, she was so wet at this point she could feel a cold liquid trailing down her thighs. She raised her other hand to her own breast to roll her nipple between her fingers, taking care to make sure her eyes were always partially open so she could see Isabelle. It barely took her another two minutes to come violently, watching with satisfaction as Isabelle lay there unmoving and completely exhausted.

Fuck,” Clary muttered as she orgasm crash over her.

She allowed herself to collapse slightly on Isabelle’s back, before taking a few deep breaths, untying her girlfriend and turning her around, so she was on her back.

“Wow,” Isabelle said her voice was rough and distracted sounding. Clary noted with satisfaction that her eyes were still completely glazed over. “Where did that come from?”

“Artistic temperament,” Clary responded with a playful smirk.

“I’ll say,” Isabelle said, “my tits are sore, my pussy is sore, and I’m exhausted.”

“Tits?”

“You spent a lot of time on my nipples. I won’t be able to wear a bra for days without thinking of you,” Isabelle said with a smile of approval. Her hand went to her breast where her nipples were darker than usual.

“Good.”

“I agree,” Isabelle said with a wicked smirk on her face.

“You looked good, though,” Clary said, her voice rough and low, “all spread out and wet for me. Wet and waiting.”

Isabelle groaned and threw her arm over her eyes, “don’t start with me! I am way too tired to do that again.”

Clary shrugged innocently, “just saying.”

“Well, you can “just say” whatever you like, Fray. Your ass is mine next time.”

Clary laughed and curled up in Isabelle’s arms, “counting on it.”

Chapter Text

Alec felt the sun shining on his face. That feeling was nice, but the view was even more excellent. Magnus was laying next to him on his stomach with one arm flung casually over Alec’s back. Alec is struck by how perfect this moment and this morning truly is. He appreciates the soft, relaxed flex of Magnus’s back muscles. Alec observes the planes of his face, the sharp cheekbones, and almost dangerously cutting jawline.

Alec smiles to himself when he sees a track of drool dripping from Magnus’s slackened mouth. It’s stupid how enamored he is.

Angel knows how long Alec has been watching before Magnus’s eyes slowly flutter open. They’re cat eye slits this early in the morning before Magnus is awake enough to cast his glamor for the day and Alec lets himself appreciate it.

He loves this man so much, it’s becoming more and more alarming every day. But at this moment, with the sun hitting his face and a smile on both of their sleepy faces, it feels like the most obvious fact in the world.

Magnus turns, so he is on his side, and Alec copies the move so they are facing each other. Alec raises one hand and rests it gently on Magnus’s cheek. Magnus inclines his head slightly, silently asking for a kiss. Alec has never been good at denying him anything, so he meets him without a moment’s hesitation. There is a warm slide of lips, a little sour from morning breath but neither of them cares.

He pulls back to gaze at Magnus. This is it. The perfect moment he’s been waiting for.

Alec opens his mouth, a gentle smile on his lips, “Magnus, I lo—“

Just then there is a horrifying screeching noise. The windows in Magnus’s bedroom break at once and a bright, piercing light burns through.

He hears Magnus’s scream of pain.

“Magnus?! Magnus?!”

He can’t see- there is a blinding light in the room, but he can feel. The area that held Magnus is disintegrating, he senses Magnus’s body turn into ash.

“No,” Alec murmurs to himself. And when the light dies down all he sees is a black pile of ash, curved in the shape of Magnus.

He can’t help himself, he screams.

Alec is still crying when he wakes up.

It takes him a full minute to realize it was a dream. It takes him even longer to realize he’s in The Institute, laying in his bedroom.

His hands are trembling as they reach for his phone. It’s four thirty in the morning, even Magnus Bane was probably asleep by now. Still, he couldn’t rest until he knew for sure. Knew that Magnus was alive and everything was fine.

“Alexander?” Magnus’s voice when he answered is thick with sleep.

Alec smiles a little in spite of himself, his limbs still shaking from the nightmare, and remembers that beautiful night they spent together and the morning they woke up together. Once they had gotten into the bedroom, it became painfully clear that Alec had no idea what he was doing. But Magnus just smiled softly and led him through it. In the privacy of his own mind, Alec is not sure if saying they had sex is even the right terminology. It felt like making love in every single aspect.

“Hey, Magnus.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“No,” Alec said, even though it felt like a lie, “I just… Had a weird dream. I wanted to hear your voice.”

Magnus got quiet, the way he sometimes does when Alec is honest. He likes that, he likes that his honesty disarms Magnus in such beautiful ways. He may never lie again if this keeps happening.

“Well, you have it,” Magnus said.

Alec felt a bit guilty. It was only last week that Magnus had saved all of their lives with his brilliant use of magic. Unfortunately, their lives had come at the expense of Magnus’s entire life’s work. His creations, the spells he has spent centuries perfecting. Alec is not sure he has the right to ask anything of the Warlock, least of all his comfort.

Still, he’s already called now. He might as well enjoy the time he has.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Would you like to come over?”

The offer is so simple, and the answer is so simple. Walk through a portal and be comforted. Yes.

“Yeah, yeah… Would you mind?”

“Of course not,” Magnus replies, and seconds later there is a portal in his bedroom.

He steps through without bothering to change. He’s still in ratty cotton pants and a wife beater, but he wasn’t actually planning on talking much. He just wanted to feel Magnus around him, feel his heart beat against his palms and his breath on his skin.

Alec had been expecting the portal to lead to the living room, but when he stepped out, he was already in Magnus’s bedroom.

“I’m exhausted,” Magnus said patting the spot next to him, “let’s sleep.”

Alec opens his mouth to say something. So much of him burns to tell Magnus about his dream, about how scared he is to lose him, about how much he loves him. He’s dreamed about telling Magnus four times at this point and has still never said it out loud.

But he takes one look at Magnus, his eyes are bloodshot, and he has deep bags under his eyes. He really is exhausted, and Alec doesn’t want to force a conversation on him like this.

“Yeah,” Alec says with a smile. “Let’s sleep.”

He can’t help himself, though, he clutches to Magnus so tight through the night. Alec hopes it isn’t uncomfortable, but he can’t let go. If Magnus notices he doesn’t say anything.

The nightmares don’t get better. Day after day, he watches as Magnus- beautiful and grinning- burns in his arms.

That’s why he can’t stop himself, he can’t stop himself from pleading.

“Please, Magnus,” Alec says, he knows his voice sounds small and desperate, “leave. Go to Tokyo, I know there is that ramen place you want to try.”

“Alexander,” Magnus says, his voice is soft and understanding, “I can’t. You were right, there are millions of downworlders in this city, and hundreds of Warlocks. I can’t leave them to die alone. If they burn, I burn with them.”

“No,” Alec says before he can think of anything else. “No. You- you can’t.”

Magnus has that look on his face, the one that says that he won’t be pushed on this. Alec wants to cry, now more than ever. Simon Lewis- a man he knows Magnus cares about as his own- has been taken by Valentine. Clary, whose loyalty and bravery would be their undoing, is not ready to see her current boyfriend and long-time best friend be tortured.

He can’t blame her.

Still, looking at Magnus all he can see is his nightmares. How it’s all happening. And he can’t- he can’t- he can’t lose him.

“Magnus, please. I am begging you, leave. The soul sword probably can’t penetrate past North America. Go anywhere, regroup, strategize. You’re too important—”

“Alec,” Magnus says sharply, “I’m not leaving. Dot is still being held by Valentine, and so is Madzie. I swore an oath when I became High Warlock, this is my area to protect. I will not abandon it.”

Alec feels his phone vibrate, he knows it’s Jace with the plan. He stares at Magnus, who is glaring back at him defiantly. He doesn’t want to leave it like this.

“Please don’t die,” Alec says, his voice is soft and broken, and he can barely recognize it. “Please don’t die. I love you.”

And with that, he pulled Magnus into a bruising kiss. Alec doesn’t have long now, he’ll have to leave Magnus to his own journey, to protect his own people. Even though the last place he ever wants Magnus is out of his sight, he pulls himself away.

Magnus watches his, eyes wide and wet, the words still hitting him.

“That’s why I can’t live without you.”

“So, save the world, darling. And you won’t have to.” Magnus says brushing his cheek with his hand. “I love you, too.”

Alec turns his head to press his lips against his palm, “okay. I’ll save the world. But Magnus?”

Magnus looks at him curiously, his head quirked to the side.

“I’m saving the world for you. I can’t live in it without you.”

Magnus melts and pulls him into another kiss, his hands wrapped in Alec’s shirt. “I love you so much, my Shadowhunter. Now… We’ve got a madman to kill. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Alec clutches him, and stares intently into his eyes, “you’re damn right you will.

Chapter Text

Alec watched Magnus’s jaw clench with irritation as he held a circle member immobile in the alley. Alec couldn’t blame him either, the man- Chad Crosshaven- was an ardent Valentine supporter and blood supremacist.

“Where did he keep the Mortal Cup?” Magnus asked, his voice quiet and cold- his magical bonds were a surprising shade of blue.

Though, not that surprising. He may be irritated, but this pitiful excuse for a man was hardly worth his rage, chances are he didn’t know much anyway. Valentine was not the type of person to trust information to anyone.

Chad laughed, throwing his head back manically, “I’ll never tell you, warlock.”

Alec clenched his hand around his seraph blade but smiled slightly to himself when he heard Jace and Clary growl under their breath as well.

“I doubt he knows anything anyway,” Magnus says without paying attention to the man. “He’s an idiot.”

“Oh yeah? Well this idiot killed your little friend Ragnor Fell, so maybe I’m not so–”

Magnus’s magic went suddenly red as he tightened the bonds and walked closer to the man, “What did you just say?”

“Magnus…” Alec began, but he put up two fingers to silence him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Chad said with a cocky smirk, “I gave the order personally. Valentine asked me to summon a demon, I picked Shax- tell me, how funny did he look when he-?”

The noise Magnus made was inhuman. Before any of them had a chance to react the hand he was pouring magic out of went red-hot. Magnus moved quickly and shoved his hand into the other man’s chest. The air filled with the smell of burnt flesh as blood poured out of the circle member’s body. Alec heard his ribs break with a sharp crack, and he heard Clary gag in the background. Red lightning was crackling off Magnus’s body, which was still trembling with rage even as he was elbow deep in the other man’s chest cavity.

Then Magnus pulled his hand out, and it was holding the man’s heart- slightly charred from where Magnus’s burning fingers had grabbed it.

Chad’s face was frozen in abject horror and slumped down to his knees.

“You ripped my heart out, I’m just returning the favor.”

With that Magnus dropped the organ in front of the man’s corpse, blood still dripping from his ringed fingers.

Chapter Text

“You know, that stuff can kill you,” Jace said.

Magnus Bane pulled the cigarette out of his mouth without looking up from the book he was reading under the bleachers. Magnus was… Something else on campus. People called him a goth, but that isn’t quite right. Punk is a shade too far as well. He is himself, and there really isn’t any other social place for him. His nails painted black, and his eyeliner might suggest that he listens to too much Simple Plan, but his tastefully tailored shirts contradict it. Jace would be lying if he said that wasn’t interesting.

“Oh do they?” Magnus asked, his lips twisting up ironically, “tell me, what is it about them that can kill me? Is it the acetone? The ammonia? The Benzine? The Carbon Monoxide? The tar? The arsenic?”

“Um…”

“Don’t presume I don’t know my poisons.”

Jace raised his arms in mock surrender, “my bad.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and looked back down at his book.


“So, what do you know about Magnus Bane?” Jace asked at lunch. He’s on the soccer team, varsity, and people cling to his words. In the back of the cafeteria, eating alone is Magnus- the book he’s holding is different from the one he was reading two days ago.

“Goth,” Clary said, not looking up from her sketch book. She’s on the cheerleading team, but she spends most of her time in the art room- Jace tries and fails to pretend he doesn’t find that endearing.

“What else?”

“Uh, rich dad- not sure what he does. Mom died in fifth grade, I was in his class when he found out. It was horrible…” Clary continues, “why?”

“Nothing, just… curious.”


Isabelle is more helpful, but Jace expected her to be. She knows everything about everyone and maintains the best grades in the class. Jace has no idea how she does it, but he’s lived with her long enough to accept it.

“Talk to you later, Alec,” she said into the phone as Jace walked into her bedroom.

“How is he?”

“Apparently college boys are much better than high school ones,” she said.

Jace smiled, ever since Alec left for college, the house felt oddly large and quiet. Even though his older brother didn’t talk much, he had a way of filling space. It didn’t help that he picked a college on the other side of the country.

“What do you know about Magnus Bane?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing, nothing… I’m just curious.”

Isabelle leveled him with a cutting look, the way she looks at her experiments under a microscope. Her gaze suddenly softened, “um… He has a bit of a thing for college girls. Last I heard, he was dating a twenty-two year old at the Community College- Camille something.”

“Oh… Wow, who knew that guy had so much game?”

Isabelle shrugged, “he’s hot, and he knows it. And he’s got that dark tortured vibe going, muy sexy.”

“If you’re into that sort of thing.”

Isabelle leveled him with an amused grin, “I have a feeling you are.”


“Oh, by all means, please, make yourself comfortable,” Magnus said sarcastically.

Jace plopped himself on the other side of his table at the library and opened his calc textbook. “Thanks, I will.”

Magnus had a book opened (Jace recognized it as the book the AP-Lit kids were working through) and his laptop open.

“Working on Mr. Fell’s essay? I heard it’s a bitch,” Jace commented.

“Small talk? Really? Don’t you have some sophomore cheerleader to feel up?”

“You know,” Jace said, irritation coloring his voice, “I’m just trying to be nice. You don’t need to be such a dick.”

“I neither need nor want your charity, Wayland. I’m doing just fine.”

“Maybe it isn’t charity, jackass. Maybe it’s friendship- heard the term? Or would you like a four syllable synonym? God, I’ll take ‘pseduointellectual douchebags for five hundred, Mr. Tribek’”

Magnus looked at him, surprised, “never figured you for a fan of Jeopardy.”

“There is a lot you don’t know about me,” Jace said, “but you might know that I’m a decent sports player. I can play the long game.”

“Why are you even interested?” Magnus asked, his voice filling with exasperation.

“No one seems to know anything about you,” Jace said. “I mean, they know who you’re dating, and what happened to your mom, but almost no one knows a damn thing about you. Why is that?”

“Maybe there isn’t much to know.”

“Or perhaps,” Jace said, “you’re lonely and don’t know how to fix the problem. Or maybe you’re caught up in a super dangerous, crazy mystery. Either way, I want in.”

Magnus sighed with irritation, “what makes you think I would even want your friendship?”

Jace laughed, all cocky and golden, “who wouldn’t?”


Jace walked into Magnus’s mansion, his father wasn’t there (per usual), but he wanted to see if the other boy was interested in hanging out. It seems like he might be… Busy.

“Oh yes, god, Magnus!” A woman’s voice calls out again.

Ah, Camille. One of Jace’s absolute least favorite people. When he first met her, he had been dazzled of course. But the longer he got the know her the… Creepier her thing with Magnus became. He was Jace’s age, sixteen, she was nearing twenty-two. And she seemed to rejoice in manipulating him, asking him to buy her expensive things and returning the favor with sex and praise.

And Jace knew just how starved Magnus was for affection.

It didn’t help that Jace had become increasingly attached to Magnus, his quick sense of humor and his incredibly kind heart that he hides for no reason.  He especially loves his smile, when Jace is able to really make him laugh. The way he looks down, with a big grin, as if his own happiness surprised him.

They stumbled out of his bedroom ten minutes later.

“Jace, hey,” Magnus said apparently unsurprised to see him, “want some water?”

Jace raised the glass he was already drinking from.

Magnus rolled his eyes, “always making yourself at home.”

“Stop pretending you don’t love it.”

Something behind Magnus’s eyes flashed, which looked vaguely like panic, “ha. Right.”

Camille ticked her eyes to Jace, then to Magnus before twisting her lips into a cruel smile, “what a cute little homo moment. Now, darling, are you going to pour me a real drink?”

He saw the way Magnus’s eyes flinched at the slur, but he didn’t comment. Jace saw his hand hesitate for a second, before reaching for a bottle of whiskey, “yes. Of course.”


Come over.

It was unusual to receive a text from Magnus, so the second he saw it, he rushed over. The lights were off in the huge mansion when he walked in, but he saw Magnus slumped over the couch with a bottle of vodka.

“Jesus, Magnus,” Jace said pulling him into sitting position, “what happened?”

“She’s been cheating on me,” Magnus said, “she… God.”

He immediately started gagging, and Jace moved a trashcan in front of his mouth. He listened to his friend dry heave for a few minutes.

Jace rubbed his back softly, “I’m sorry, man.”

“For months now. And when I found out, she just laughed. Laughed and said I was a stupid high school boy.” Magnus sounded on the verge of tears, “I thought I loved her.”

Jace didn’t know what to say, just pulled Magnus into his arms and let him cry.

“I’m so sorry, Magnus,” Jace said, and he was surprised to find he really was. He might like Magnus, but he never wanted to see Camille leave him. It strikes Jace that he’d never actually seen Magnus express any particular emotion except wry amusement and irritation.

This is much worse.

“And don’t worry,” Jace continued, “she’s failing community college, and eventually her good looks will fade. Meanwhile, you’re going to be a world famous business man with at least three fashionable ex-wives and a fleet of cars.”

Magnus let out a watery laugh, “yeah?”

“Yeah. I know you, you’ll invent some really crazy bomb to sell to the military, and you’ll call it the Camille.”

“How dare you imply that I would engage in war profiteering,” Magnus replied. His voice was still thick and full of tears, but still had that bite of good humor Jace had come to be enamored by- a good sign.

Jace rolled his eyes and tightened his arm around Magnus’s shoulders, “you know what I mean.”

Magnus said nothing and curled deeper into Jace’s chest. He really must be tired, Jace thought, otherwise he never lets me have the last word.


Something imperceptible shifted in their friendship after that, they were always close but they were somehow now even closer. They touched often, when Jace spent the night they shared a bed curled in each other’s arm.

Weeks turned into months, which turned into summer- and their relationship was as close as ever.

“Platonic cuddling,” is what Magnus had called it with a nervous laugh. Jace just smiled and accepted it. He even accepted the “platonic hickeys” they sometimes left on each other’s skin when they watched movies.

After meeting Magnus’s father, the younger Bane made much more sense. His father was aggressively conservative, and needlessly cruel- especially to his son, who he sees as a ‘useless faggot.’ Jace can’t imagine how terrible he’d be if Magnus actually was interested in same gender attraction.

But that is what Jace gets for underestimating Magnus Bane, he supposes.

“You like me,” Magnus said. It’s late and they’re laying in bed together, Jace curled up on Magnus’s chest about to fall asleep the way they usually do.

“Um,” Jace began, aiming for nonchalant but his heart is pounding, “yes? We’re friends. Do we need to walk you through the concept again?”

Magnus pushed him off, so they were looking at each other, face to face, “no. You… You want to date me.”

Jace said nothing, his eyes were wide. All he could feel was terror. Though he might be attracted to Magnus (very attracted) and like him a lot (might even come close to loving him) he really was his best friend first. The thought of losing Magnus now was close to unbearable.

“Well?” Magnus said with a small smile, clearly seeing the fear on Jace’s face, “what are you waiting for?”

“Wh-what?”

Magnus sighed and rolled his eyes, though Jace could see the apprehension and nervousness on his features, “oh you sports players, always favoring action over words.”

With that, he moved slowly (slowly enough for Jace to escape if he wanted to) to kiss him.

It was- well, it wasn’t magical. Jace’s heart was still pounding with terror, making him nearly light headed, and Magnus was too nervous and trigger shy to compensate. Still, laying next to each other in Magnus’s bed, it felt like the best kiss he ever had.

Jace relaxed finally and let his lips twist into a smirk, “I had to wait for you to make the first move, naturally. I am, after all, highly sought after.”

Magnus laughed, tension draining from his broad shoulders, “on street corners, maybe.”

Jace pinched Magnus’s arm, “asshole.”

They got quite again suddenly, staring at each other. Jace raised his hand to Magnus’s face, his finger’s trembling, “can- can I kiss you again?”

Magnus’s eyes were shining in the dark as he nodded yes, Jace swallowed and pressed his lips to Magnus’s again and this time… This time was much better. They moved in slow tandem, a soft press of limbs and lips, Jace wouldn’t help but smile into it. He smiled even more when he felt Magnus’s returning grin on his mouth.

Fuck, feeling that smile was somehow even better than looking at it.


“You can not be serious,” Magnus said looking at the jacket in his hands.

“Oh come on, babe,” Jace said with a smile, “please? You’ll look so good in my Varsity Jacket at the game.”

Magnus’s long, ringed fingers grasped the harsh fabric, and his perfectly painted nails glinted in the sun. Jace is not sure he’s ever felt happier.

“It clashes,” Magnus said observing it. “It clashes with everything. It somehow even clashes with itself. How is that possible?”

“Fine,” Jace said with a sigh moving to take back the jacket when he felt Magnus cling tight to it.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t wear it,” Magnus said with a resigned sigh and slipped the jacket over his shoulders.

It made Jace chuckle, for most of the other guys on the team their letter jackets were huge on their girlfriends. But on Magnus, who was just as tall, broad and athletic as Jace, it basically looked the same.

Still, he wouldn’t deny the primal joy of seeing his name written on his boyfriend’s back.

“You better win,” Magnus said when Jace hadn’t responded, “I’ve got a lot of money riding on this pool.”

“You bet on the game?”

“Of course, darling,” Magnus said with a glint in his eyes. “But don’t worry, I always bet on you.”

Jace pulled Magnus in for a kiss, “good. I bet on you, too.” 

Chapter Text

Luke groaned when he recognized the scent coming through the door of the bar. He specifically chose a mundane haunt for this reason, he was looking for a break.

“Whiskey double, neat.”

“What are you doing here, Magnus?”

Magnus looked around the bar with a hint of dry sarcasm, “I didn’t realize I needed a reason to go to a public bar.”

Luke sighed and downed the shot of his whiskey before tapping the bar twice to let the bartender he wanted another. “Great. I don’t want to talk.”

“Fine,” Magnus said, sipping his drink, “we don’t need to.”

They sat like that for a few minutes, but Luke felt himself becoming more and more agitated by Magnus’s calm sitting next to him, “look, I just want one god damn day where I don’t need to control how I feel. Can you please just leave me alone.”

He can’t stop his voice from cracking on the last word and with it, the glass cracks from where he’s holding it too hard. He feels the whiskey leak between his fingers.

Magnus’s keen eyes catch the movement immediately, and he places a hundred dollar bill down on the table to pay for his drink and grabs Luke’s arm.

“Here, you can get shitfaced at home. My glassware is built to withstand werewolves.”

Luke lets himself be manhandled into an alley and pushed through a portal. He doesn’t even have to wait before a glass is in his hand again.

“We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, but I figure you might be safer here.”

Luke downs the drink, it refills immediately. He drinks another and laughs.

“Oh, I’ll be safe here?” Luke asks with a bitter laugh, moving to sit down on one of Magnus’s soft couches. “I’ll be safe; meanwhile I’m a curse.”

The couch sags where Magnus sits, “what do you mean?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Luke asked laughing again staring into his glass, “my parabatai betrayed me. Jocelyn is dead. Alaric is dead. Half my god damn pack is dead for following my orders. I’m like a cancer.”

He didn’t even realize tears were seeping out of his eyes until Magnus pressed a warm hand on his shoulder.

“All of those deaths, Luke, they’re not your fault. They’re Valentine’s.”

“Fine, either I am a curse or I am cursed, but either way- any time I care about someone they end up dead.”

Magnus sighed and took a sip from his own drink, “I know how it can feel sometimes. The whole world is ganging up against you, everything keeps going wrong, and there is nowhere to turn. But Luke, you’re not alone.”

“Where am I supposed to go? Everyone I used to turn to for comfort is dead,” Luke said.

The truth of the statement hit him like a jab in the gut. Jocelyn and Alaric have been his best friends for nearly two decades, and Jocelyn was the love of his life. Now he’s alone again, forced to figure out rough new terrain without his guiding lights.

“You find new comfort,” Magnus said.

Luke said nothing, tears were still pouring down his face. He hears a glass clink as Magnus sets it down on the table, and then the Warlock gathers him up into his arms for a strong hug.

Luke is surprised by just how much that breaks him, this act of tenderness and support that he hasn’t felt in weeks feels like alcohol being poured into a gaping wound. The effect may be beneficial, but it burns and throbs.

In Magnus’s arms, inexplicably, he thinks of his father who died when he was ten years old. It was the memory of him, his strong arms, and the way his eyes always used to twinkle when he said “watch out, Lukie-boy” that makes him crack.

Next thing he knows, he’s sobbing hysterically in Magnus’s arms who is rubbing his back softly whispering soothing sounds. He can feel himself hiccuping and hyperventilating, but he can’t stop, once the tears start they flow like he’s been holding them back for eighteen years.

Maybe he has.

“I just- I just-“ Luke said through stuttered breaths, “I miss her so much. I miss her all the time, she was the love of my life, and now she’s gone.”

Magnus just held him and said nothing, which gave Luke the space to keep talking. It felt like a floodgate was being released.

“She used to make this amazing chicken cacciatore, and all I can think- all I can think is that I’ll never eat it again. I’ll never get to walk into her apartment, and see Clary laughing about some silly school thing, and see the woman I love making chicken cacciatore. And it’s so stupid, I loved her, and I can’t stop thinking about a god damn chicken dish.”

Magnus kept rubbing his back when he spoke, hushed and gentle, “when the first woman I loved died, I was a mess. She was beautiful and kind, we were somewhat impoverished then, but that didn’t bother her. I spent all day working in the fields, and she would serve me bakmie when I came home like it was the world’s greatest delicacy. Bakmie is noodles, but the way she’d present it… Like she was a chef in a Dutch man’s palace. God, I couldn’t touch the stuff for nearly fifty years after she died.”

“Does it go away?”

Luke regrets the question immediately because he’s not sure he wants the answer. If Magnus says ‘yes’ then that implies that Luke will eventually move on, he’ll forget how much he loved her and the perfume she wore and how she felt in his arms. If he says “no”… Well, that comes with its own set of problems.

Magnus sighs, “progress isn’t a straight line. Not with anything, but especially not with mourning. The other day I was walking down the street, and I swear I saw her standing in the sun, and she looked exactly the same. It was just a trick of the light, but I had to lean against the wall for five minutes to remember how to breathe. But most days? Most days I keep moving, because there is so much in this life to mourn, so much pain to be felt, and you can’t feel it all at once.”

“You fell in love again,” Luke says.

Magnus nodded with a wry smile, “I did. Many, many times- sometimes they were wonderful, and sometimes they were terrible, but I carry their scars with me. If you’re asking me if you’ll forget her Luke… You may come to a stop thinking about her every day. You might realize one day that it’s been a day, a week, a month since you last remember to miss her. Eventually you might forget where her birthmarks were, what her favorite color was, if she preferred to sleep on the left or right side of the bed,” (on her back, on her stomach, behind her right knee) (cherry red) (the left), “but you’ll remember the important things. How brave she was, how she stood by you, how hard she could make you laugh. You’ll come to see her in other people.”

Luke was still curled up in Magnus’s arms and was surprisingly unwilling to leave, so he just let Magnus’s soothing voice wash over him.

“Sometimes when Alec laughs I see her, my first love. When he smirks, I get a flash of Camille, when he cries, still another love. Sometimes it feels as if they live on in my heart, influencing the choice I make- did I fall in love with Alec? Or was I lead to him, by the thousands of steps I took before? Yet, when he looks at me, when he holds me when I love him, I promise you, he’s all I see. Grief is not a straight line, there is no end goal.”

“I just… I’ve been low before, Magnus,” Luke began, his voice catching, “but I always had her. And then I had Alaric, and then I had my pack, my little family.”

“You still have a family, you have Clary—“

“Don’t get me started on Clary.” Magnus became quiet and started rubbing Luke’s back in soothing circles again as Luke began to speak, “she tasered me. In the back. She never listens to me. I don’t get it… Does she not respect me? Does she not love me? Why doesn’t she trust me?”

Magnus sighed, “Clarissa is a particularly… Strong-willed young woman. But she loves you, Luke. So very much. Try to remember she’s an eighteen-year-old girl and not listening to her father is sort of her M.O. Right now- could be worse right, she could be out drinking and having sex?”

Luke laughed, “I would much rather have that.”

They sat in silence, Luke becoming increasingly embarrassed by the amount of time he spent sobbing in the other man’s arms. Still, he can’t deny the quiet comfort it offered, a moment of safety with a person who wasn’t reliant on him for anything. Just a friend, someone to support him. He remembers the nights he spent with Alaric, working on cases late into the evening, that quiet camaraderie.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Magnus asked.

“Yeah, Chinese?”

Magnus nodded and snapped his finger, Chinese food appeared in front of them. With another snap, the television turned on to Wheel of Fortune.

They sat in silence after that, drinking more whiskey and watching hours of terrible television before they fell asleep on the couch together.

The next morning, when Luke woke up to find Magnus Bane passed out and leaning against the sofa with a box of Chinese take-out on his lap, he was filled with a quiet feeling of family. He smiled to himself slightly as he closed his eyes to get a few more hours of sleep.

Chapter Text

For the first time since she was six, Madzie was hesitant about knocking on Magnus’ door. 

“You going to stand there all day, kiddo? These groceries are heavy.” 

Madzie jumped a foot in the air but calmed down immediately when she saw Alec in front of her. It had been fourteen years since she first met him but he looked basically the same with the exception of fine lines that appeared around his eyes. She was immediately filled with a sense of comfort, and she smiled at him allowing him to pass her. The door opened for him magically, clearly sensing his hands were occupied. 

Once his groceries were on the table he turned to her, “so what’cha doing here?” 

She bit her lip, “I’m going to ask Magnus to oversee my continued training.” 

He raised his eyebrows, “oh, that is great Madzie!” 

She sighed, “you don’t understand!” She ignored the look of amusement that passed over his face. “He’s Magnus Bane.” 

“Really? I’ve only been married to him for five years, what did you say his name was again?”

She glared up at him, “you’re not being helpful, Alec. When will he be back?” 

“Um…” Alec said thoughtfully looking at his watch, “should be wrapping up a meeting soon. Are you staying for dinner?”

“Depends, what are you making?” 

“Brat,” Alec commented with a fond smile, “I was going to make paella.” 

Madzie beamed, “yes, I will absolutely be staying.” 

“How’s Cat?” Alec asked while he pulled different foods from the paper bags. 

“Busy, and still recovering from her hangover from her hang out with Magnus. What did they do, anyway?” 

Alec shrugged, “who knows. I’ve decided the less I know the happier I am.”

Just then the door opened with a flourish, “darling, I am absolutely exhausted. If you’re still planning on some nookie today you better be prepared to–” 

“Magnus!” Alec cut him off with burning pink ears, “Madzie came to visit.” 

Magnus turned the corner looking exactly the same as the day they met, with the exception of longer hair. “Madzie! Oh come here, I feel like its been so long! How was your internship in Nairobi?” 

“It was really great, the regional magic there was really interesting.” 

“Did Afiya treat you well?” Magnus asked turning around to take off his coat. Madzie winced involuntarily, which he missed but Alec looked at her curiously. 

“Yes, she did. She was absolutely lovely.” 

Magnus had set her up with an internship with the High Warlock of Nairobi two years ago. And yes, Afiya had treated her spectacularly- but it was very clear that she was giving Madzie preferential treatment due to her friendship with Magnus. In fact, nearly every Warlock she has interacted with in her life treated her differently because of her relationship with him. It was surprisingly painful- it felt like she was riding his coat tails. 

She was reminded of the idea that great people have mediocre children. She may not actually be his daughter, and Caterina Loss may have raised her, but there was no denying that she was family. 

“Wonderful. I’ll have to send her a thank you note. Actually, I was thinking about asking her to dinner next weekend. Are you free, darling?” Magnus said turning to Alec. “You’re welcome to join us as well, Madzie.” 

“I’ve got a few things with The Clave,” Alec said still watching Madzie curiously, “but I should be able to.” 

Magnus nodded and finally gave Madzie a hug, squeezing her with his strong arms. She smiled, he always made her feel so safe- even the first time she met him he radiated a sense of calm and support. 

“So, did you come for any reason?” Magnus asked once they pulled apart. 

“Um, actually… Yes,” Madzie said taking a deep breath to remain calm, “I wanted to do my continued training here. With you.” 

Magnus’s face goes from warm and gentle to professionally indifferent. Madzie had been prepared for this, he had a reputation for being a hardass and even beyond that, she knew he would never say yes without serious consideration. That was why she was so nervous, actually. There was a very real possibility that he would say no if he felt like she wouldn’t take him or the training seriously. 

“Why?” 

She saw Alec continue to cook in the kitchen even though his shoulders were tense. Clearly, he had come to the same conclusion she had, she would have to prove herself. Say what you will about Magnus Bane, but he’s not particularly disposed to nepotism. 

“Your work with powder and liquid potions is unparalleled,” Madzie said, beginning the speech she prepared, “as well is your continued research on quantum magic and thermodynamic propulsion theory regarding intra-dimensional travel. I believe that my experience working with the High Warlock of Nairobi, as well as my initial training under Caterina Loss has provided me with the skills necessary to be an effective apprentice to you.” 

She saw his eyes gleam with pride for a moment before he tamped it back down to cool professionalism. “Excellent credentials. But I only take the best and brightest- people who will change the course of magical study for years to come. Do you think you have the creativity and willingness to work to not only be a good magic practitioner but an extraordinary one?” 

She took a deep breath. In all honesty, no she was not. She is twenty years old and living in a shitty apartment with mundane roommates. She avoids doing the dishes as long as she can, to the point where yesterday she drank her coffee straight from the pot because she was out of mugs. But, if there is one thing Magnus had taught her it’s that ‘you should never let them see you sweat.’

“As mentioned, my work in Narobi required a great deal of self-discipline. I was in charge of maintaining and observing several of her experiments and had the opportunity to begin research on a new healing potion designed to reduce scar tissue on internal bleeding injuries. I fully believe I am capable of contributing a great deal to the magical community, especially in regards to healing potions and combat techniques.” 

She snuck a glance at Alec who was smiling softly as he continued to look down at the garlic he was chopping. Then she risked a glance at Magnus, whose face was still an impartial mask. 

“We begin in two days, be prepared to move in here. You will keep a seventy-hour work week, with Sundays off.” 

“Um,” Alec cut in, “seventy hours? How are you going to train her for…?”

Magnus rolled his eyes, “she will train for seventy hours. I will have stuff to do. Self-motivation and discipline are important.” 

Madzie meanwhile was beaming, “awesome! I mean, um, I mean… I am very honored to accept your patronage.” 

Magnus smiled at her, “as you should be. Now that the business section is over why don’t we help Alec finish dinner.” 


Every single part of Madzie was aching. 

She has been training for training with Magnus for two weeks and already she understands why he has a reputation for being a strict taskmaster. In terms of personal life, she no longer had one. Every spare second that she wasn’t working on projects Magnus assigned her was spent reading up for personal experiments that he also expected her to maintain on her own time.  

It’s true that Magnus pushes her hard, but it’s equally true that she really has grown since she began training under him. Besides, as cruel and uncompromising as he was during the day, once she was “off the clock” he returned to the fun-loving man she grew up with. 

She was also learning so much about him, about how he was trained and the way he grew up. There had been times in the first week that she had seriously doubted her decision, but she loved that expected so much from her even if it was anxiety producing occasionally. 

“Alright,” Magnus said clapping his hands together as they walked into the lab. “How’s everything going?” 

Madzie gave him an update on his potions as well as her experiments. When she was done he smiled softly at her. 

“You really are a remarkable girl,” Magnus said. “I’m so proud of you.” 

She smiled, “yeah?” 

“Oh yeah,” he said. “In fact, you’re doing so well, I thought maybe we could practice a meld today.” 

She gasped. A meld was when two Warlocks mixed their magic, it was frequently done between students and teachers to strengthen the bond. Madzie was beside herself. 

“Yes, I…! Now?” 

He chuckled and nodded, gently pulling her out to the balcony where candles were set up as well as two soft cushions on the ground. They sat across from each other with their hands out- her magic, a soft lilac purple, sprung to her hands immediately. His bright blue calm magic rose to meet hers. 

The feeling was unlike anything she had ever known. She could feel his power against hers, supportive and gentle the way he had been with her for her whole life. Their magic blended together with easy familiarity, and she couldn’t help but have tears come to her eyes. 

Growing up trust was a fraught topic for her. First Iris, then Valentine- in such rapid succession when she was so young, it hurt her. But Magnus had always gone out of his way to be kind to her, take care of her, and above all else treat her with respect and dignity. 

She could feel his love for her in his magic, beating against her own. She could feel it in ever cell, her magic singing out happily at the sensation of unselfish love being poured out to her. She responded with her own love in kind. A warlock’s magic is integral to their bodies, wrapped up in every strand of their DNA. To share magic is to share your full self. When Magnus shared his love through his magic he made sure she would be able to feel it every cell. A truly undeniable love- a family she never thought she would have. 

They sat in silence for hours, quietly sharing their magic and their connection. 

Chapter Text

Isabelle loves Pandemonium. Has for years, even when she’s not on a mission. Jace prefers Hunters Moon while Alec prefers the tried and true company of repression. Isabelle, though, she loves the noise, the glamour, the thumping bass.

And she also loves to watch.

Every once in a while, when she’s lucky, she even gets to see Magnus Bane sitting on his throne in the VIP section. His elegant outfits and unbelievable body just made it more enjoyable. And sometimes, when she is very, very lucky, he even gets up to dance.

She’s never actually spoken to him before. It feels like watching a celebrity from a distance, of course, she knows exactly who he is, but she’s confident he’d consider it an impertinence if she ever actually said anything.

She stared for another moment before turning back to the bar to start settling her tab. Isabelle had the day off the next day, but she has a reason to be in the club any later. She was pulling out her credit card when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Isabelle immediately went to judo-flip the stranger when she caught his eye.

It was Magnus Bane.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked with a smirk.

She smirked back, “I don’t have a reason to stay.”

“Is that right?” He asked, sliding into her personal space. She didn’t move, and instead leaned closer, so he continued, “what if I gave you a reason?”

She smiled down at the floor to play coy, before looking back up at him through her thick lashes. “Well, I suppose I could be persuaded.”

“Put her tab on mine… What’s your name, darling?” Magnus says, still staring at her intently.

“Oh- Isabelle,“ Isabelle started, “but you don’t have…”

“I insist,” he cut off smoothly. “Care to dance?”

They danced for what felt like hours, Isabelle’s body grinding smoothly with Magnus’s while he periodically spun her around the floor and pulled her back into his strong arms. There is something overwhelming about his perpetual control, she’s so hot and overheated, but he looks like he just got there- not a drop of sweat on him. It makes her wonder what he would look like if he were worked up.

“I think I could use some water,” she said into his ear. He nodded and followed her back to the bar to get a glass. She looked at him steadily for a moment, before continuing, “I think I could also get out of here.”

Magnus raised his eyebrows in mild surprise before looking at her with a glint in his eyes, “want to come back to my place?”

“I could use a nightcap.”

He portals them back and Isabelle’s mind spins. She’s never been with a warlock before, and she never considered the incredible convenience hooking up with a portal maker could have.

“What would you care to drink?” He asked, walking to a well-stocked cocktail table.

She shook her head, “I’m not that thirsty.”

Magnus chuckled darkly under his breath, before moving swiftly into her personal space, quiet and fast like a panther, “could have fooled me.”

On another man, a line like that would have made her roll her eyes, but his dark magnetic eyes are glinting at her, and she’s helpless to anything but falling deeper into his arms. Before she can even fully process it, they’re kissing. His strong hands are wrapped firmly around her waist, pushing her gently back towards the couch. Just as they go to sit, she flips them elegantly and lands squarely on his lap.

He glances up, surprised, but impressed.

“Want to talk about my training regime, or do you want to fuck me?” She asked to his unspoken question.

“I don’t think I need your Fonda tapes,” he replied with amusement, but Isabelle smiled when she saw the uptake in breath, and his eyes darken in response to her words. Not so cool, after all.

She laughs in response but stops when his hands start sliding up her thighs, heading dangerously close to her short hem. If Isabelle looks down she can already see how far up her dress had moved when she straddled him, she can almost see red lace panties.

Then his hands are cupping her ass, huge hands fondling and molding while he kissed her deeply. He was good at it, she thought with her mind spinning, the perfect mixture of lips, tongue, teeth and wandering hands to make her dizzy. She was so distracted that she barely noticed his grip firming up as he moved to stand.

“Oh!” She yelped, realizing she is now in the air, her thighs clenching around his hips in instinct. She hadn’t expected the warlock to be so strong, though she really should have… Looking at his bulging arm muscles.

“Why don’t we take this to someplace a bit more comfortable?”

She can’t fault his logic so decides to kiss his neck while he walks, taking extra time to press sharp kisses to his Adam’s apple which bobs provocatively in response. Now that she’s down on the bed she realizes he’s hovering above her, fingers glinting with blue magic.

“May I?” He asks, trailing his finger down her dress to indicate removing it with magic. She nods, still not quite able to get the words out.

With a snap, her dress and bra disappear, leaving her in her lacy red thong. Magnus’s eyes trail her body wickedly before he snaps his fingers again, and he’s just as undressed as her- only left in silk briefs. His ghosts his hand down her side, just barely brushing her sensitive nipples and she whines, pushing into him desperate for more contact.

He waits another moment before she can’t take it, “please, Magnus, please!”

He smiles to himself and goes for her neck, leaving a small hickey towards the back of her hairline, easy to hide. What a perfect gentleman, she thought, overwhelmed.

He keeps moving down, finally making it to her breasts. She thinks she could explode right now, she’s already so wet and ready it’s insane. He gently rolls one between his fingers while lightly tracing the other with the very tip of his tongue.

“Ahh,” she can’t help herself. She knows she’s making so much noise, but she can’t help it. Magnus has managed to zero in on all of her sensitive spots within seconds and is making quick work of driving her insane. His mouth stays on her nipple while one hand sneaks down to press teasing friction on her dripping cunt. Pleasure fizzles through her, and she pushes her hips up to meet his hand. His hand hesitates a moment on the band of her panties before she loses patience and shoves them off herself. He chuckles slightly, turning his head to her sensitive stomach.

This time, he doesn’t stop, he just keeps going right to where she needs him most and then ohh god his mouth is right there. Warm, and wet, sucking and licking and giving her teasing pressure all at the same time. She’s already so keyed up, he’s so good with his hands, and oh fuck his mouth. Then he starts vibrating. She has no idea how, but he is making his tongue literally vibrate on her clit, and she has a moment to think is he using magic? Before she’s coming hard.

He doesn’t let up, backing away slightly to her slit and vagina to give her sensitive clit a break, this hardly does anything to calm her down. Feeling his tongue teasing her raw hole reminds her how desperate she is for him to be inside her already. He doesn’t seem to be done though, having realized her sensitivity has gone down, Magnus has returned his head to her clit and is beginning the entire process again. Somehow, he’s using entirely new moves this time, and she can’t keep up. Her body literally can’t process the sensory overload he’s causing, because his hands have reached up to continue playing with her sensitive nipples while he teased her clit.

“Magnus,” she manages through panting breaths, “oh fuck— Magnus, oh— by the Angel, I’m so fucking close again. Oh fuck—“

She can practically feel him smirk around her while he sucks her pussy gently while also continuing maddening licks and then she can feel her thighs quake, coming so hard her body is physically convulsing.

This time he pulls back entirely, wiping his mouth delicately on his forearm before leaning up to kiss her. She shivers, tasting herself on his tongue before she finally gets a hold of herself. Taking a deep breath while continuing to kiss him, she flips him on his back.

“My turn,” she says with a smirk. She kisses down Magnus’s chest and his perfect abs, which are heaving and quivering under his touch. She can’t believe she thought he was so cool and collected. Seeing him like this, shaken out on his back for her, she feels powerful.

When she reaches his dick, the first thing she notices is that he’s big. Larger than she’s used to, but she’s a quick study and a focused learner. Isabelle drops a kiss on the tip, and he hisses.

For a moment she is quietly grateful that Warlocks and Shadowhunters are both incapable of having STIs.

Then she goes down, sinking her mouth around his dick while making sure to look up and keep eye contact.

Isabelle,” he whispers, his voice filled with pleasure, “yes. Just like that, baby, get me nice and wet. Oh god, your lips… It’s like you were made for this.”

She preens at the praise sucks more, his skin is so soft and clean under her. She loves doing this, having her mouth filled and her mind quiet. For a while, the only sounds in the room were his groans and the soft uck-uck-uck of his cock hitting the back of her throat. She wraps one hand around the base of his dick, anything that won’t fit, and the other goes further down to massage his balls. His thighs are thick and warm around her, and his hand is still buried in her hair.

“Stop,” he says eventually. It sounds like a command, so Isabelle does, blinking up at him. “I still want to fuck you tonight.”

Her mouth goes dry at that, and she scrambles up to kiss him. They’re both heavily mussed now, his eyeliner is smudged, and he has lipstick marks all down his body, most specifically at the base of his cock.

He reaches blindly backward and pulls a pillow out for her to rest her hips on while he lines up between her legs.

“I know you’ve got your safer sex rune on,” he notes with amusement, “but would you like me to use a condom anyway?”

“No,” she. She loves the feeling of being filled so full and to have it leak out of her later while she’s looking her mother dead in the eye. “No, fucking, I want it, Magnus.”

He curses softly and presses in, she’s still so wet and sensitive from his mouth, and honestly turned on from the blowjob she gave.

“Lilith, Isabelle,” he grunts, his voice low and dark, “you’re so wet for me, aren’t you? So wet and ready, you can take everything so well.”

She can only nod because the stretch feels never-ending, and so god damn good. Magnus’s cock is filling her up just right, and so deep she could swear she can feel it in her throat.

It takes her a moment, while he moves slowly and gently in and out before she can choke out, “faster.”

He nods and starts to pound into her, fast and hard, and Isabelle is not sure she’s ever been fucked quite like this. She is barely hanging on to a thread, the constant sweet stretch, in and out, while he keeps a steady rhythm.

“I think,” she starts, before being cut off by a deep thrust that hits her so good again, “I think I’m going to cum again.”

He nods and maintains his rhythm, focusing on hitting her right where she needs him, and she’s gone again, clenching intensely around his dick. She just barely comes down from it when he starts to lose rhythm himself, filling her up.

“Wow,” she says, unsure of what else to say after such mind-blowing sex.

He nods, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he pulls out gently. She winces, her pussy is sore from the pounding, and her clit is a little aching from the intense oral she got earlier. But its a sexy kind of sore, one she definitely wouldn’t mind getting again in the morning before she left.

“Can I stay the night?” She asks, to confirm.

Magnus looks at her for a moment, his dark eyes are sweet. He waves his hand to clean her with his magic before settling into bed next to her. “Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

“What do you want, Lorenzo?” Magnus asked, sitting at the bar staring into his whiskey rocks. 

“Who says I want anything, Bane?” 

Magnus looks up at him, unimpressed. Lorenzo’s dressed to the nines, his thick black hair tied behind his head. “You almost never speak to me unless you want something.” 

Lorenzo chuckled, sat next to Magnus at the bar while gesturing to the waitress that he’d have the same thing Magnus was drinking. “How cynical you’ve become, goodness.” 

“It’s 1972, Lorenzo. Everyone is cynical nowadays. Now can you please get to the point.” 

“Fine,” Lorenzo said. “You’re in an awfully bad mood today.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow, “you’re here because I’m in a bad mood?” 

“Of course not,” he replied. “I was here getting a drink, it’s a coincidence. But… I think I could do something to put a smile back on that pretty face.” 

Magnus looked at him with a smirk, “unlikely.” 

“Oh yeah?” Lorenzo said in a dark, low voice. “I think you’ve been the ringmaster of this little circus you run in New York for far too long. All that stress,” he said placing a  delicate hand on Magnus’s back,”hanging on your back. All work and no play makes Magnus a dull boy.” 

“And what is it exactly that you think I need?”

Lorenzo smirked, “I think you need someone even more powerful than you to take you apart.”

Magnus shivered involuntarily at the dark tone of voice that promised dirty things. Then he shook his head, ”you’re not more powerful than me, Rey.”

“Is that right?” Lorenzo said, his voice laced with amusement as his deep ebony magic danced along Magnus’s forearm.  

Magnus’s dropped his glamor immediately, letting deep red magic seep through his fingers which are still holding a glass of whiskey. “I’d watch yourself, Rey.” 

Lorenzo laughed, “kitty has claws, huh.”

Magnus felt a low growl echo from his throat as he looked Lorenzo in the eye. “If you’re trying to challenge me right now, I’d rather you just say it.” 

“Straightforward?” He said leaning back casually in his chair. “I don’t want to challenge you. Not right now. Make no mistake though, Bane. I will be coming for your title.” He smirked menacingly, “But, right now, I want to take you to bed.” 

Magnus looked at him for a long considering moment, eyes sweeping over his handsome face and broad shoulders, before knocking the rest of his whiskey back in one neat movement. He watched Lorenzo track his throat with his eyes. 

Without saying anything he slid to his feet and put his well-tailored jacket back on before looking at Lorenzo with intent. “I believe you said something about taking me apart.” 

Lorenzo moved into Magnus’s space, placing an arm around his waist and pulling him closer slightly. Magnus looks down at his full lips which are twisted into a smile of victory. 

“Yes,” Lorenzo said, his voice already gravely. “I did. I hope you’re not going to be doing much talking or sitting tomorrow.” 

Magnus looked back at him cooly, raising his eyebrows. “That is some awfully big talk.” 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes still staring intently at Magnus’s neck. “My bite is much worse than my bark.” 

Magnus chuckled slightly, “well then let’s get out of here. I may hate you Rey, but you’re right. I’m incredibly tense.” 

Magnus feels a sparkle of Lorenzo’s dark-colored magic caressing his body again before it sharply disappears. “Do you want me to call the portal?” He asks. “I’d hate for you to waste energy before the main event.” 

Magnus glares at him, “I think you’ll find that I can put up with anything you dish out.” 

Lorenzo’s hand slips dangerously close to Magnus’s ass. “I certainly hope so.” 

And with that, the two warlocks left in a swirl of magic. 

Chapter Text

The ten months Alec has spent serving on Zandar-IV have not been what he expected at all. When he was first placed at the remote outpost, he understood it to be what it was, a punishment for insubordination under Captain Morgenstern. Still, Alec holds that some orders shouldn’t be followed. 

He had assumed the job would be boring. When he received the assignment details, he was told he was to serve as a babysitter for one of Star Fleet’s most brilliant inventors and science officers. Alec had met science officers of course, and he thought he knew what he was getting into. Usually, they wanted nothing more than to hide in their labs, be quiet, and not cause too much trouble. 

Not so with Magnus Bane. 

In fact, Alec was beginning to see why they placed the scientist on this outpost as well. 

“What the hell are you doing now?” Alec asked with a sigh. 

Magnus glanced up for a moment to glare pointedly. 

“Fine,” Alec said sighing again, “what the hell are you doing now, Commander?” 

Magnus was standing over the anti-matter chamber (not a good thing) and was adding something to it (even worse). 

“Rest assured, Lieutenant Lightwood, I am about to change the course of Federation history.” 

“Can you wait until after lunch?” 

It wasn’t that Alec didn’t like Magnus. Because he did. The scientist was quite funny when he wanted to be, and endlessly generous and kind. The fact that he was also heart-stoppingly attractive was a bonus. 

He just also had, what his younger brother Max would call, “mad scientist tendencies.”

Alec still hadn’t quite recovered from the fire-breathing snake Magnus had invented because he managed to sneak into the lab while he was drunk. 

Or the mind-control device he invented “just to see if he could.” 

Magnus turned from his station to glare at Alec. He was wearing dark eyeliner today, and his hair was dyed blond at the tips. “No this can’t wait until after lunch. Good god, why am I trapped on this god forsaken planet with the likes of–” 

“We can go to the beach.” 

“– As I’m always saying,” Magnus continued undeterred, “you are the finest Star Fleet has to offer.” 

Alec smiled wryly. Say what you will about Zandar-IV (and Magnus can say quite a bit), but it is a beautiful beach planet. The locals are incredibly kind, and Magnus is friends with many of them. In all Alec’s life, he had never made friends with civilians, but then he had never been stationed at an outpost long enough. 

“Ragnor, my man,” Magnus greeted with a broad smile, “can we get two Salurian Sunrises and the fish of the day.” 

“Depends, Magnus,” Ragnor said, “are you going to come over for dinner next Tuesday? Caterina has been dying to see you.”

“And I her,” Magnus said with a smile, “I would love to join you.”

“Wonderful.” 

“I’m going to grab a table,” Magnus said, “would you get the food?” 

Alec nodded and watched Magnus leave.

“So,” Ragnor said pouring the drinks, “when are you going to tell him you’re madly in love with him?”

Alec stumbled on nothing and clutched the corner of the bar, “wha-what? I’m not? I’ve never even? Who’s… Magnus? I’ve never met him.” 

Alec wanted to slap himself, and by the bland look on Ragnor’s face, he wasn’t far behind. 

“Really? You’ve never met him?”

“Maybe there is a problem with the universal translator…?” 

“I don’t like Star Fleet,” Ragnor said instead, “with its tendency towards imperialism, and it’s dominance of the human species. But, I like Magnus. He’s smart, and he’s kind, he deserves someone who really sees him instead of just looking at him. I think you can do that. But, that is all the interference I will offer.”

Alec nodded and reached to grab the food but Ragnor stopped him, “actually, one more thing. You might want to hurry up. I heard his old lover is Captain of the USS Dumort and she’s stopping by. You might want to do something before she does,” 

“… Thank you.” 

Magnus was sitting in the sun by the water when Alec came with a tray. The beach town near the lab always seemed to be populated by beautiful young people playing some type of complicated game that Alec couldn’t understand. 

Alec watches Magnus for a minute, the way his keen eyes observe the ball and the young students playing. It was the first thing Alec noticed about Magnus, actually. He was intensely observant and astute. Perhaps, in another life, he could have been a detective of some kind. He is the type of intelligent and hardworking that borders on relentless. 

“Do you know how to play that game?” Alec asked to stop himself from staring. 

“Yes, it’s quite simple.” 

“You know what I’ve always wondered?” Alec began chewing on his lip. 

“What, Alexander?” 

“You… Well, you clearly did the command track. Worked your way up from ensign. And yet, you… Well, you’re here. You’re a Commander, relegated to a planet at the edge of the galaxy. What happened?”

“Taking advantage of my good mood, I see, Lieutenant Lightwood,” Magnus said. 

“I… I mean, you don’t have to answer. I’ve just wondered.” 

Magnus sighed, “I… I did. I joined to prove my father wrong, and I just kept going. But somewhere along the way, I realized… Following orders? That isn’t for me. I resented it. It was killing me… So, when an opportunity to be reassigned to a Starfleet outpost came up, I took it.” 

“Do you regret it?” 

Magnus took a bite of the lunch meal he brought, “difficult question to answer. Do I regret the opportunities it gave me? The resources I have to conduct my research? No. Do I regret the years I spent biting my tongue? Holding back my opinion from Captains and First Officers who weren’t ready to hear me? Yes. I do. So, where does that leave me?” 

“Conflicted,” Alec offered, taking a bit of his own meal, “or, I guess, human.” 

Magnus made a hum of agreement. “I suppose so.” 

“Anyway,” Alec said, “heavy subject for the beach.” 

Magnus laughed, “yes. You’re right.”

“So, why the Dumort is stopping by?”

Magnus stopped, “that is an even less light lunch topic. But I imagine you’ll get the transfer details soon enough, Cam– Captain Belcourt needs to resupply. Nothing too dramatic.” 

If Alec and Magnus were both being unnaturally quite for the rest of lunch, neither commented.

Chapter Text

“There is something we need to talk about.”

Alec looks up from his cup of coffee to Magnus who is staring at him from across the breakfast table with his “serious business” face. He tries not to wince, considering he had been looking forward to a full day without ‘serious business’. With the Institute in an uproar, it has been harder than ever to get a calm day with Magnus.

“Okay,” Alec says, “what’s wrong?”

Magnus chuckles slightly and reaches across the table to grab his hand, “nothing is wrong per say. Though it does say something amusing about the state of our lives if that is the first place your mind jumps to.”

Alec sighs openly with relief, “great, I’m glad. What’s up?”

“Well… You know I’m not one to make a big deal out of birthdays,” Magnus begins and Alec feels his heart rate tick up slightly. Magnus has been so closed lipped about his date of birth that Alec had eventually just given up.

“That’s a bit of an understatement.”

Magnus rolls his eyes, “well, yes. However, as it turns out- and it did quite sneak up on me, darling- my six hundred and fiftieth birthday is upon me.”

“Um… Happy birthday?” Alec says. It is one thing to know your boyfriend is an immortal, all-powerful warlock, it is quite another to have him say the phrase ‘six hundred and fiftieth birthday.’

“Thank you,” Magnus says, his eyes more amused than ever as he takes another sip of his tea. “But that isn’t what I wanted to talk about either. As you might know, warlock magic evolves significantly with age. We often have several ‘growth spurts’ over the course of our lives. One when we’re young, one when we’re around two hundred, another when we’re around six hundred and fifty, and so on…”

“What?”

“As it turns out, I will likely be going through one of these magic spurts myself over the next coming months,” Magnus says very calmly. “This is not a cause for panic and is very normal. You just may notice some changes, I may be a bit moodier from time to time, my magic will be stronger and a bit more spontaneous. But by and large, there shouldn’t be any major concerns.”

“So… you’re trying to tell me you’re going through magical puberty?”

“I wouldn’t have phrased it like that.”

Alec rolls his eyes, “really? You’re going to be a moody, angsty, 600-something-year-old, but you’re not going through a magical puberty?”

“Hysterical,” Magnus says with a slight eye roll. “I just didn’t want you to be alarmed if things seem a bit… Wonky.”

“Wonky?”

“I don’t know how it will manifest itself, but it will manifest itself someone. During my last one I couldn’t stop transforming all of my pillows into chickens while I was asleep,” Magnus says with a shrug. “Being that you share my bed more often than not, you might want to… be aware.”

Alec can’t argue with that logic, so he simply shrugs and they carry on with their day.


It takes a few months for it to become obvious that Magnus’s magic was changing. For the most part, Magnus himself took it in stride with characteristic panache.

“I think I need,” Magnus began as he was walking towards the door to leave, “to pick something—“

He cut himself off by disappearing through a portal that suddenly appeared directly in front of him. Alec had about twelve seconds to be concerned before he heard a very irritated goddamnit come from the ensuite bathroom connected to the master bedroom.

He said nothing and simply began walking towards the door again, paying careful attention this time.

It isn’t as though Alec is complaining. To be honest, it is completely hilarious watching Magnus try to do simple things and have his magic completely over-react. Alec watches in amusement as Magnus tries to summon a pen, only to get completely covered in a flood of ink. Or, try to give Alec a flower and have an entire god damn tree appear in the apartment. Or, he tried to summon dinner and ended up summoning an entire feast, enough for an entire party.

(Of course, he is Magnus Bane, so he simply solved that problem by having a party.)

(Alec just enjoys watching his usually perfect boyfriend become a temporary walking disaster.)

It’s also interesting because Alec can feel Magnus’s magic change. Magnus always feels like there is a faint hum of electricity under his skin, the thrum of barely repressed magic. But recently it has gotten even wilder, and Alec can’t understand how Magnus is even capable of controlling all that.

He realizes, sometime later, that this magical puberty really just means that Magnus is going to be even more powerful when it’s over and his magic has settled back into himself.

Still, none of it is really a problem until:

Alec is sitting at his office, going over his iPad with all the details from the Delta Squad raid. It’s early in the morning, around eight thirty, which is why he’s surprised when he hears the sound of a portal forming in his room. Magnus prefers to sleep in when he can because he is usually up late working, partying or drinking (or all three).

Still, Alec is never disappointed to have his boyfriend suddenly appear in his office, especially if it’s for breakfast.

“Hey, babe—“

“Ahhhh!”

Now that Alec is looking up he is noticing the portal is hovering over the couch he has in his office, the perfect height for a highly confused and very sleepy Magnus Bane to drop two feet and plop loudly onto the sofa.

“What the hell?” Magnus splutters, taking stock of where he is. He’s still dressed for bed in silk boxers, and his hair is unmade and unkept.

“Um,” Alec says, “what are you doing here?”

“That is an excellent question,” Magnus says with a pout, “I was sleeping. I’m not actually sure.”

“Huh,” Alec says. “Okay.”

Except, that wasn’t the last time it happened. It starts happening three times a week. It gets to the point that Alec has placed an extra pillow and blanket on the couch. Now, when Magnus finds himself unceremoniously plopped onto the couch he just turns snuggles into the pillow, covers himself with a blanket and keeps sleeping.

There is something adorable about having a sleeping Magnus Bane in his office for the first few hours of his day before he actually wakes up to portal home and gets ready. It is calming to hear his steady breathing and see his relaxed face. It’s especially nice because Magnus will come and nuzzle sweet, tired kisses to his face and want a little bit of cuddling before he actually leaves. Alec, despite himself, is absolutely charmed.

Magnus, on the other hand, is irritated.

“This is the fifteenth time I’ve woken up by falling out of the sky,” Magnus rages, interrupting Alec as he watches TV. “This is getting absurd.”

“Getting?” Alec comments wryly.

Magnus shoots him a dirty look, “I have no idea why this keeps happening. But I need to get to the bottom of it”

Alec just shrugged and turned back to Veep. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Maybe not yet,” Magnus continues, “but what are you going to do when you have a meeting with the Inquisitor and I come falling out of the ceiling?”

Alec paused, “touche.”

“No pasa nada, Alexander,” Magnus says. “I’ll do some research. I’m sure this is very common.”

Alec just shrugs again and lets the subject drop.

He doesn’t bring it up again until dinner the next day. Magnus has been skittish since he came home and has been uncharacteristically cautious.

“So,” Alec started, “did you find out what is causing the morning portals?”

Magnus looked away but nodded. Alec could see his cheeks tinting slightly red, and wondered what on earth could embarrass Magnus. He has seen his boyfriend do an entire public striptease to “Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy.” He’s fairly certain nothing makes him shy.

“Well, as I mentioned,” Magnus began, “this can make magic volatile and unpredictable.”

Alec nodded.

“Yes, well,” Magnus continued, “volatility makes people subconsciously insecure. Or, put another way, when systems are functioning abnormally, most people want to be somewhere safe.”

Alec realizes what Magnus is trying to say before Magnus actually says it. “You think you’re safe with me.”

“I, well, of course, I do, Alexander,” Magnus says gently, “that isn’t surprising. I guess I was surprised that my magic felt the same way. Felt as drawn to you as I am.”

Alec smiled, “well I guess the couch is just going to have to get used to you, and the Inquisitor can suck it.”

“Alexander…?” Magnus says questioningly.

“It’s not like I’m going to make myself less of a safe place for you,” Alec says rolling his eyes. “I like that you come to me, even subconsciously, to feel comfortable. You don’t have to fix it if you don’t want to.”

Magnus smiles at him and presses a hand to Alec’s cheek. He leans in on instinct, turning slightly to press a soft kiss to his palm.

“Besides,” Alec says with a small, mischievous smile, “I’ve been meaning to get some art for my office—“

Magnus cuts him off with a laugh and a kiss, easing into it with practiced ease.

“However can I thank you?” Magnus says with a smirk of his own. He lifts his hands to snap his fingers, “how about a bit of mood lighting?”

Immediately, the tablecloth and the counter burst into flames and Alec can’t stop cackling, especially when Magnus tries to stop the fire and ends up creating a tiny pond in the kitchen instead.

Magical puberty is the best.

 

Chapter Text

Isabelle leaned back on her heels to observe. Clary was desperately clutching at the pillow in order to keep her hands up, always so eager to be good for her.

She would never understand how she was allowed this, Clary Fray, who listened to no one about anything- stubborn and loyal to a fault. Stronger than she knows. Clary Fray, following her orders, being such a good girl for her. Isabelle twisted her lips up.

“You’re doing so well,” Isabelle commented.

“Izzy,” Clary breathed out, “please. Please.”

Isabelle chuckled and leaned down to kiss her girlfriend tenderly, softly running her hands up and down her sides, relishing in her soft skin. She leaned down to press a kiss on her neck, before sliding down to spend a little time gently licking her nipples.

“I’ve waited! You’ve gotten me to the edge like three times already. Come on, Izzy–”

Without warning, Izzy flipped Clary over, so she was on her stomach.

“Who is in charge here, Clary?” Izzy asked.

“You! You, but-”

“No “buts”,” Izzy says with a sharp slap. “Now, I’m going to spank you ten times, then I’m going to ask you a question. I hope you get it right.”

She continues, planting 10 more harsh slaps on Clary’s smooth, pale ass. She watched in fascination as her skin turned a bright cherry red before leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to each cheek.

“Now, who is in charge here, Clary?”

Clary looked up at her with wide, wet green eyes. But her lips were parted with pleasure and even now, Izzy could feel slick wetness on her thigh. “You are, Izzy.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Izzy said with a smirk, leaning down to kiss her girlfriend tenderly before turning her around again. Clary, flat on her back, her smooth white skin glowed against the deep red sheets in Izzy’s bedroom. “But don’t worry, baby. I’m going to make this so good for you. If you can be patient for me.”

Clary nodded frantically while Izzy moved her lips down, spending time gently licking her nipples with the very tip of her tongue. Just enough to cause maddening stimulation.

“Ahh,” Clary moaned, arching up into Isabelle’s mouth. She was so keyed up, Isabelle has been teasing her for at least half an hour. Bringing her right to the cusp of orgasm before ripping it cruelly away time after time. Clary was so wet at this point you could see her inner thighs glistening.

“So close, baby. Just a little more,” Izzy said. She was hardly unaffected, leaking all over the sheets as well. But she forces herself to stand up and reach for the curved vibrating dildo. She quickly covers it with a condom and wastes no time plunging it deep into her writhing girlfriend. As always, Clary takes it so well. The deep, matte, black silicone looked sinful sliding in and out of her sopping inner walls.

“Can I sit on your face, baby?” Izzy asked, and Clary nodded frantically.

She gently pushed herself up and hovered over Clary’s mouth before guiding one of Clary’s hands to her hip. “If it gets to be too much, pinch me, okay?”

Clary nodded, her eyes were bright and hazy and her cheeks were so red they nearly matched her hair. With that, Isabelle lowered herself over Clary and her girlfriend immediately began licking. Clary’s tongue was always devilish. In the mean time, Izzy leaned over- making sure to keep her clit firmly over her girlfriend’s mouth, and continued to push the dildo in and out at a dizzying rhythm.

She watched as Clary’s legs tensed and quivered, desperate to cum. Izzy smirked, though Clary loved penetration she could never cum from it, instead becoming even more desperately horny. On the other hand, Clary was bringing Izzy to the edge herself. She smirked and turned the vibration up, careful to keep the dildo inside Clary’s body, and pushed deep.

Clary made a high pitched shrieking noise from under her, the vibrations felt so good against her clit that she felt herself nearly cumming just from that. Izzy leaned back and ground down lightly, mixing friction with the sinful movements and vibrations from Clary’s moaning.

“Ah, yes, fuck. Clary, right there, oh god- you’re doing so, so fucking good. You’re so fucking good at this, baby. Oh!”

Izzy felt her thighs quiver, her orgasm wracking through her powerfully. She took a moment to come back to herself, and moved her body away from her girlfriends. Clary was even more of a mess now, her mouth slick with Izzy’s cum and her face red with lust and effort. Her bright green eyes were swallowed by her pupils.

“Are you ready to cum now, baby? Do you think you’ve earned it?”

“Yes!” Clary practically cried. “Yes, I’ve been a good girl. Please, please, please, pl-”

Izzy cut her off by pulling the vibrator out and placing it on her swollen clit. She leaned down at the same time to take Clary’s right nipple into her mouth, moving the vibrator clockwise as she moved her tongue counter clockwise on her nipple.

In the end, it hardly took ten minutes for Clary to come so hard her entire body froze up. Her leg muscles locked in ridged straight lines while she screamed her release. Her hands still curled tightly behind her head under the pillow.

Fuck, even now, following orders.

It took Clary a few minutes to calm down, her orgasm lasting two full minutes. She slowly uncurled her hands and brought them to Izzy’s face to move her lips from her chest.

“Wow.”

“Is that all, Fray?” Izzy said playfully, moving to hold Clary to her chest.

Clary was still breathing hard, and didn’t say anything, just curled deeper into Izzy’s arms.

Eventually, after a few minutes of silence, “wow, Izzy. That was fucking amazing.”

Izzy smirked, “see. I told you I’d get you back.”